Two soundtrack albums from the master of spaghetti western music, on RCA and EMI respectively. The first record needs little introduction, assuming you have similarly fond memories of watching these films as a kid. “This Is..” features highlights from other classics like The Good, the Bad and The Ugly and Death Rides A Horse, but opens each side somewhat jarringly with the main theme from Chi Mai, and the funky groove of Come Maddalena. Still, beggars can’t be choosers.
One last dance collection from 1987, this one totally focused on looking over its shoulder to the recent past for inspiration. Released on the little known Jam Today label, thankfully featuring just three tracks per side, and promising ‘all tracks in original and untouched form – ABSOLUTELY NO REMIXES OR EDITS’ this is obviously meant to appeal to the cash-strapped purist who like his/her rare grooves untarnished by contemporaneous production techniques. So no bolstering with drum machines, no stuttering samples or carelessly applied James Brown grunts here.
The time period covered is 1979-1982, and the style is instrumental disco, with Atmosfear’s “Dancing In Outer Space” a strong opening track; its uptempo groove laced with pleasingly kitsch Moog frills. Also from ’79, Stop’s “Iauwata” combines energetic percussion with cocktail piano vamps – you can hear Shakatak coming around the corner – whilst Powerline’s “Double Journey” from the following year strips the format back with space-inducing lashes of dub-echo and some furiously tight slap-bass noodling.
But then when you think you have this compilation pegged, along comes the proto-electro vocoder funk of “Inside You” by Contact-U, and finishing with a mellow funk jam from little-known Brit saxophonist Dave Chambers and his ensemble.
To be honest, most of this stuff sounds suspiciously like groovy elevator music, rather than smokin’ hot dancefloor rarities, but perhaps that is actually part of this collection’s curious appeal today.
Yet another dance collection from 1987, but by contrast with the previous post, Needle Records’ decision to cram ten full-length mixes onto a single platter (not an uncommon practice back then) sacrifices sound quality in the name of ‘value for money’. It’s probably short-sighted sales tactics like this that allowed CD to dominate the market so quickly.
Content-wise, this collection keeps one eye firmly on classic funk and disco sounds that evoke the feeling of previous eras, reminding us that, despite the wave of new House and Hip Hop sounds crossing the Atlantic, there was still a big appetite for ‘rare grooves’ in the UK, typified by the subtly tweaked ‘club mix’ of Maceo & The Macks’ 1974 classic “Cross The Tracks”, and the ‘House Mix’ of Philly disco number “Let No Man Put Asunder” by First Choice.
Most contemporaneous styles are represented, with the harder-edged House grooves of T-Coy and House Master Boys, mellow rappin’ and go-go funk from Kool Chip and Black Britain respectively, both sides finishing with syrupy, anodyne eighties soul from Lanier & Co and 52nd Street. A somewhat confusing blend, but as the sleeve notes say “Mash It Up!”
Another collection from 1987, on then-Mute subsidiary Rhythm King, but this is House Music from Chicago, and far more agreeable to my forty-something lug-holes. I already had Volume One, so its nice to find the sequel. I still have no idea who Rob Olson is/was. Perhaps I should google/research for this post, but I’m enjoying the mystery of it all (anyone can pretend they’re an expert with just a few taps on a laptop, but I’m happy to admit my ignorance on this occasion).
Suffice to say, Mr Olson executive- produced this compilation which, like Vol.1, takes a welcome detour down some of the less well-known/over-exposed tracks from Chi-town’s golden age of House. Of particular interest to me are “J.B. On The One” by Duane & Co (an orgy of James Brown grunts and latin cowbells) and Matt Warren’s “Bang The Box” (minimal 808 workout) both of which were playlisted by John Peel and recorded from his radio show onto cassette by my House-loving former self for further listening on the Cortina’s tape deck.
The decision to only include 3 tracks per side, which would’ve probably seemed a bit mean back then, now provides some welcome loudness and presence sadly lacking in many of the vinyl dance compilations of the era.
Released in 1987, this collection promises “the hardest hip-hop in the world direct from New York City” and certainly represents exactly what my 18-year-old self would’ve been playing on the tape deck of my Ford Cortina back in the day. In fact I bought lots of Hip Hop compilations (on cassette) back then, so its quite surprising I never bought this one.
To be honest, hearing this relentless barrage of beats, scratching, grainy samples and second division MCing now makes me feel terribly old and even gives me a slight headache. No wonder my dad hated this stuff. I still love it in principle, but I’m gonna take it off the deck and put something else on now before I have to take some Neurofen.
Released by Fashion Records of Lavender Hill, Clapham Junction in 1986, this album (according to my reggae-expert mate John Eden) represents the arse-end of Asher Senator’s run of mid-80s UK dancehall records. True, it has a bit a clean, commercial sound, fairly typical of the burgeoning, inexorable move towards digital production, but still a solid, entertaining ten-track trawl through Asher’s world, and a pungent relic of the era. Nice up!
Part of a small haul of reggae records found in Staple Hill Red Cross ages ago. More to follow…
I couldn’t actually face buying this, but couldn’t resist taking a quick photo in the shop, just to prove that I hadn’t hallucinated it.
As I recall, the funniest thing about The Krankies was that, off-stage, ‘Wee Jimmy’ and ‘his’ ‘dad’ Ian were secretly fucking each other. Now, how many other British comedy double acts can make that claim? Creepy stuff!
I bought both of these when they first came out back in ’87, but my original copies are long since lost (or in one case, stolen) so it was nice to finally replace both with near-immaculate copies in one fell swoop recently.
Conceived as a collaboration between 4AD label-mates Colourbox and A.R.Kane, the project was quickly expanded to incorporate the dj cut-up style of Dave Dorrell and C.J. Macintosh (later of Nasty Rox Inc.) which produced the surprise #1 smash “Pump Up The Volume”, which I’m sure we all know and love/hate. But it’s actually the A.R.Kane-orientated ‘AA’ side called “Anitina (The First Time I See Her Dance)” which still holds me enthralled. It’s a non-retro slice of psychedelic pop, incorporating elements of noise, dub and nascent dance beats (although tellingly, its the then-current dance elements which have dated least well) which served as a perfect aperitif for their subsequent debut album ’69′, which this writer still considers one of the best the late eighties had to offer.
The remix version is actually superior in my view – more skeletal with a clipped electro-flavour in the beats. No doubt you can compare and contrast on youtube or whatever, but nothing will beat the sheer depth and sonic intensity of these 12″ records blasting from my rig today…
Finally found a copy of this record in tip-top condition. Shame about the slight blemish on Grace’s face, but that’s only the sleeve, right?
“Pull Up To The Bumper” was the big hit on this album, but the whole thing is an exercise in seemingly effortless in-the-pocket grooves, held down by the Sly & Robbie rhythm section and luxurious, but never over-cooked production from Mr. Whiteworst Blackwell and his team.
This will sit very nicely in the collection, nestled in-between previously thrifted “Warm Leatherette” and “Living My Life” albums. Although I might keep an eye out for another copy with an unspoiled sleeve…
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