As someone who has gone on record as a fan of the Swingle Singers, it pains me to report that Rags And All That Jazz is a truly wretched excersise from conception to execution. A big part of the Swingles’ appeal lay in their prodigious, wordless vocal interplay, the way their voices became instruments/mere sounds in themselves. Ah, but this is Swingle II, so it is not the case here. In collaboration with a lyricist called Tony Vincent Isaacs, Ward Swingle foolishly recasts early Jazz and Ragtime melodies by the likes of Joplin, Morton and Armstrong into obvious, nostalgic evocations of America in the first half of the 20th century. Hamfisted vocal arrangements only make the triteness of Isaacs’ newly-written lyrics all the more eye-rollingly camp. And it’s got that really shitty hollow, I-just-bought-new-strings electric bass sound that should never be heard on music purporting to call itself “jazz”. Fugging yuck.
While there’s no doubt that Mr. Ferry, and Boys and Girls in particular, virtually defines a kind of languid, sophisticated cool, the most effortlessly cool thing I saw in the Derby charity shops was the disabled man, accompanied by his parents, who, like us, was making a Thrifty Day of it going from store to store. He wore a bright blue t-shirt with white lettering reading: I’M AUTISTIC.
Brilliant. Say it loud, brother!
Derby is blessed with at least eight chazzas, nonetheless this fairly common item (from the city’s Bernardos) was all I managed to thrift–oh well, he will no doubt be happy joining his frères dans le tourne disque bibliothèque d’Asbo.
A pair of late 90s French house 12″ singles full of the muffled-sound-breaking-into-bold-bass-relief effect so popular around the turn of the century. They still sound fresh. The Newquay bootfair seller identified them as evidence of her misspent DJ youth, though she can’t have played these records too much as they were virtually mint.
Great singles from bands whose albums I find a bit spotty. I was particularly pleased with the Stardust twelve as I’m not sure it was available domestically on vinyl. It cost the woman selling £9 back in the day!
Had for £2 at a Padstow bootfair, this is the first of many posts from this year’s Cornish vac.
Super fonky, conscious third EWF album (Phillip Bailey’s first and their Columbia debut) that, if not quite a five star Lp, still pushes most all the right buttons. Some shrill singing on side two puts paid to that pesky fifth self-luminous celestial body. Note the Bitches Brew/Satanic Majesties Request-style outer sleeve with the Riot Goin’ On /Check Your Head collage action on the inside gate fold.
And another example of the strange EMI/CBS licensing conundrum elucidated by Boursin here; surely some poor schmuck had something better to do than black out Columbia 10,000 times. And three different trademarks were painstakingly cut out from the back of the Lp jacket with an Xacto knife–Jesus H!
PS: If Wilberforce doesn’t have this, he should.
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!
Ah, she’s white: so, pop it is.They musta broke the Phillips 1965 album packaging bank with this one: eye-catching photography for a classy gatefold sleeve and stapled-in colour booklet, hype-y and vaguely poetic liner notes, glued-in top load album sleeve. The works, basically.Just a pound a couple weeks ago from Hythe. Huzzah.
The final stop on Chess’s exhaustive trawl through Berry’s most creative 10 years, you won’t find “Roll Over Beethoven” or “Maybelline” here and though his blues performances aren’t anywhere near as powerful as some of his Chess lablemates, it’s still all the more enticing for unearthing the obscurities. In fact, chez Asbo needed more Chuck as I’ve only got Berry ’75 (Chess 9109 101), a tepid recreation (showcasing the affectless tones of his eldest female progeny) of these sorts of earlier glories.
A 24-track double Lp housed in a great Rock Dreams-style gatefold cover, I was happy to part with a deuce yesterday for the pleasure of owning it.