A cart-before-the-horse situation in which brassy (in both senses) arrangements on Charles’ fourth post-Atlantic Lp sometimes overwhelm his performances, as if they were mere vehicles for big band-style horn punctuations, rather than, you know, songs.
How many records bought on Record Store Day were re-sold on Record Store Night?
That this is a legitimate question for grumpy old men is one of the ironies of RSD. Designed to attract footfall into bricks ‘n’ mortar music emporia, RSD has become instead a frenzy for internet quick-flippers eager to prey on the greedy and stupid. While this can’t be 100% true, I still wonder who among those punters standing in the hour-long queue at Whitstable’s Gateway Sounds, say, were legitimate, regular patrons and how many were simply scrabbling to grab as much product as possible, like crazed Christmas parents beating each other over the head at FAO Shwartz and Hamleys to secure Cabbage Patch Dolls or Tamagotchis. It’s this rabidity, this rabble-led avariciousness that I find so unattractive. Raw capitalism, market forces, supply and demand, blah, blah, blah.
It’s possible, likely even, that some people in that line get a buzz from the experience, but it’s not for me. I can’t be bothered.
Now at least one Thrifty Vinyl reader I know subsidises his high-priced RSD purchases by over-buying and selling on the excess. As a cheapskate, this makes a bit more sense to me, despite reservations; I do something similar with my second-hand shopping, just at a far, far slimmer profit margin.
I suppose this year I was particularly bitter as there were two RSD item that I would really liked to have picked up, The Action set mentioned above and a super-nice Jef Gilson et Malagasy collection from Jazzman. I buy regularly from Jazzman, but because of Record Store Day “rules”, I may not be able to own Malagasy without paying way, way over the odds. And I don’t roll like that–it’s not called Thrifty Vinyl for nothin’.
So I leave you to your jive-ass, many-times re-issued David Bowie 7″s, your over-priced Aerosmith 70s albums and your (seriously) One Direction singles; I’ll be celebrating Record Store Day the rest of the year when there aren’t so many people in the way.
With the sleeve, title and typography to suggest nothing less than a Thin Lizzy in concert Lp, this excellent early 70s Atlantic Records soul-jazz compilation is almost comically desperate in its attempts to appeal to the callow youth weaned on Sixeventies Rock.
Barry Graves’ liner notes takes this notion several ludicrous steps further. To wit:
- Alright, you, push back your headphones and give me that Mick Jagger-type high camp look of disgust: ‘I don’t care about your jazz’. I should have guessed that Neil Young is stronger than blue notes.
- You burn incense at Jimi’s grave while the wind cries Mary, and you tell everybody that Pete Townshend is a close relative of yours. Why should you be bothered by jazz?
- You like flaming keyboards…and you wouldn’t mind being drowned by foaming tambourines and splashing congas?
- And then you catch a glimpse of Miles Davis, all high-heeled silver boots and red-hot bell bottoms, whipping it out under the magic spot-lights of the ‘Fillmore’.
- Today jazz can be caught wearing dashikis, flashing the peace sign, toying with Moog synthesizers, getting all those space-out freaks back to dancing and displaying as much soul as you need to make black look beautiful.
- Modern jazz sound[s] now!, ‘together’, ‘far out’ [and has] got itself electrified by Hendrix and 16-tracked by rock stereo ingenuity to maintain the vitality of the young.
- The skilfulness of its musicians is combed Afro-style and sports hippie beads, their creative power knows the headlines by heart.
- Etc., etc., etc.
Despite its vintage, only one track, Herbie Hancock’s Ostinato, sounds at all post-Bitches Brew. Most of the rest rely on the boogie beat and/or raga drone to supply their modernism. Flutes prevail on several selections. All are worthwhile.
Thrifty Thrifty Vinyl readers needn’t be alarmed by the £5 sticker on the cover. I paid £2 for this last Sat.
A mixture of soul covers, originals and unlikely re-imagined country hits was the formula of choice for commercial reggae produced by Pama, Trojan, etc. in the 1970s and set the stage for UB40’s ubiquity the following decade. On this early 80s Lp, Simon’s tremulous, yet powerful tenor strongly recalls international reggae star Jimmy Cliff. No strings here, but it’s still a fairly backward looking (i.e. no Dancehall stylee vibes, which would have been the contemporary thing), professional pop-roots album.
Another pound record from yesterday in almost mint condition, featuring a textured sleeve.
For the immature amongst the Thrifty V readership, Simon’s original songs are published by TIT music. Fnarr, fnarr.
Dave Brubeck Quartet cornerstone Desmond, a man for whose musical hue the word ‘mellifluous’ could have been invented, takes turns smoothly vamping with John Lewis et. al. on a programme of standards and, in peculiar deference to the season and then-contemporary tastes, ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’. Recorded on Xmas Day 1971, but not released until a decade later as a tribute to the recently deceased saxophonist.
It’s a wonderful show and an interesting recording: the mixture of close and ambient room mic-ing produces a magical 3D sound picture of startling depth, quite unlike any other I’ve heard. More than worth a pound I’d say.
(Columbus, Ohio) — His voice quavery and raw, local man Lightfoot McGee blamed his world of hurt on the nebulous psychological condition known as the Blues, which he claims were “fallin’ down like hail”. The itinerate musician says he noticed the symptoms when he woke up this mornin’ at which point, having rolled and tumbled the whole night long, he began a-weepin’ an’ a-moaning but still couldn’t get no relief.
The Blues, which area psychologist Becky Crane likened to “having a Hellhound on your tail”, presented itself with several physical manifestations, including McGee’s biscuit roller being gone, compulsive broom dusting and stones in his passway. Having tried hot foot powder all around his door and squeezing his lemon till the juice ran down his leg, McGee claims he still has “mean things all on my mind.”
Crane says she believes that McGee is going to have to beat his woman till he gets satisfied.
Editor’s Notes: This French 2 x Lp anthology more than lives up to its subtitle “A collection of authentic Blues By America’s Greatest Blues Artists”. Actually, one could argue that “authentic” is a somewhat problematic word in this context. While there’s no doubting the skill and sincerity of these performances, most are on electric instruments; not sure whether Messers Patton and Johnson would recognise them as “authentic”. I won’t split hairs though, this is stirring stuff.
Despite being an ex-library copy American Festival Folk Blues is in great shape–contrary to whatever you teenage boys might say, “FML” stands for “Fulham Metropolitan Library.” The chap who bought this record paid 40p less for it than I did some three decades later when I picked up last week.
(New York City, New York) – The release date, April Fool’s Day 1969, should have been a clue, but today Bob Dylan revealed what some had long suspected since the album’s release: Nashville Skyline was a prank.
The singer-songwriter called Nashville Skyline a ‘major league goof’ that ‘suckered most critics and record buyers alike.’
‘I sounded that way because I sung it from the back of my throat,’ smiled Dylan. ‘And not because I’d quit smoking!”
Speaking on the eve of the hoax country-rock Lp’s re-release as part of Dylan’s lauded Bootleg Series, the veteran rocker further disclosed that the ‘Kermit the Frog’ voice utilised on the album was one of several attempted for the project. Accordingly, The Bootleg Series Volume 11 – Nashville Skylarking will feature entire discs of Dylan trying to perform ‘Lay, Lady, Lay’ etc. in a faux operatic style, a heavy metal shriek, a Jamaican patois, a Sinatra-esque croon and a series of James Brown grunts as well as a normal version unreleased until now because Dylan felt it was ‘too straight’.
Editor’s Note: Nice original mono edition of one of Bob’s best albums in VG condish, cost me a pound; was part of the same collection as Oh Mercy below along with an interesting bootleg called Bob Dylan Vol. 2 – Little White Wonder.
Despite its reputation as Dylan’s return-to-form after a rum run of albums, I remembered Oh Mercy as sounding a trifle cold and undercooked. What a pleasant surprise then to now find the Daniel Lanois-produced album so warm and well thought out, the producer updating the notoriously slapdash record maker’s sound without sounding dated, a feat made all the more remarkable given its vintage.
By 1989, cds sold approximately 10 times more than vinyl record (though specifically how Dylan releases reflect this ratio, I don’t know), so scoring a worthwhile Lp from the time for a pound the day before yesterday represents a minor coup of sorts.
UK Pye Jazz issue of US Chess/Argo exotica Lp by then-Chicago based pianist. In fact, the record is more accurately described as a collaboration with bassist/composer/arranger Richard Evans, who did much excellent work with the progressive wing of the Chess stable. A song-cycle of sorts, Evans wrote all eight pieces after visiting several South American countries on a JFK-sponsored cultural exchange program. My impression from other liner notes is that this was one cultural exchange that really culturally benefitted all concerned. Whether CIA operatives also gained a destabilising foothold is another matter upon which I couldn’t possibly comment.The music is richly orchestrated, sparkling, particularly “Haitian Market Place“; and sounds like a genuine hybrid of Latin American styles and the jazz, rather than mere pastiche.
Inevitably groovy Lp by the Jimmy Smith-influenced Hammondist. The repertoire veers into EZ Listening, so, despite a funky backbeat, background or pruned enjoyment is recommended. Several jazzbos who went on to work with Steely Dan feature. Only £1.50 from the lady on the same stall as the Basie below.
When I saw this same seller in Etchinghill this weekend, she wanted to charge £5 a piece for albums that, while in EX+ condition, weren’t as interesting, saying she’d done a bunch of research in the meantime and was now basing her prices on eBay’s Buy-It-Now figures. I didn’t bother explaining that a quantification based on Discogs’ highest/lowest actually paid represents a more sensible option, I simply put those records back.