The devil went to a thrift shop, he was looking for a soul to steal. He was in a bind 'cos he was way behind: he was willin' to make a deal. When he came across this old pig sawin' on a fiddle and playin' it hot.
Vintage red-eared pig figurine playing violin in thrift shop display case: $2.99 Opportunity to mash-up a Charlie Daniels classic: Priceless
While I'm not entirely sure what the hell "emo" really is anymore, I'm convinced the seller of this bowling pin floor mat using a "FLOOR MAT BOWLING PINS Kitschy Cool Retro Punk Emo Gift" auction title knows even less.
Retro Walt Disney's Mickey Mouse Club record Mouseketeer's Talent Round-Up, #653, copyright, 1975; the 45 has the following songs: We're The Mouseketeers, A Rollin' Stone, Talent Round-up, and Hi To You.
The record itself has a big straight split, so I can't play it -- but I can't toss it either. Maybe there's a collector out there who really really needs this cover. Maybe I can discover a way to mend & play the 45. Maybe, maybe, maybe...
This is why I blog; to excuse the crap I hold onto under the guise of helping another collector find what they need.
Thanks to reruns playing after school during my teen babysitting years, every time I spy this on my shelf (and that happens more often than you might think), I hear the Mickey Mouse Club Today Is Tuesday song:
Today is Tuesday, you know what that means. We're gonna have a special guest So get out the broom and sweep the place clean. And dust off the mat so the welcome can be seen. Roll out the carpet, strike up the band, And give out with a Hip, Hooray! Wiggle your ears like good Mouseketeers. We're gonna present a guest today 'Cause Tuesday is Guest Star Day!
This has nothing to do with the songs on this record, I suspect; but if I must have an earworm, you will too.
Seventies italian rap is, surprisingly, much cooler than you might think - with a huge case of the 'trippy' tossed in:
It's actually an edit of two other videos, the sum of the two is far awesomer than each individual piece. If there's one thing to take away from this video, is that there's something missing from the choreography in modern musical performances. There's no way you'll see dozens of undulating, throbbing dancers waving their hands around unironically like that on today's television, and the world is a little sadder because of it.
The new Jensen JiMS 525i may be a great iPod dockable HD Radio, but as technology leaps ever forward, I can't help but feel old nostalgic. Sure, I use the Internet (far too much, according to some), but I can't help but feel that kids today are missing out. Take music, for example.
So many makers of today's music machines, like the new Jensen JiMS 525i, are selling themselves on the the benefit of iTunes Tagging. "How many times have you heard a song on the radio you’d really like to hear again?" they say. "Wouldn't it be great if you could tag that song and buy it?"
Everyone knows that one of the many joys of music, along with the often related ear worm song, is the nagging annoyance of 'knowing' a song, but being unable to name it or who recorded it.
Honestly. It's a thrill.
There's a satisfaction in ending the auditory blackout -- remembering the name -- right as you walk into the record shop, before you have to ask some clerk and show your ignorance in public. And I love waking up at 3 A.M., sitting straight up in bed and uttering, "Power Station!" before passing out again with a sigh. Maybe I'll remember that in the morning; maybe not. But for now, I got it, damnit.
This deficit on the part of the general population to recall the song's title and artist even when listening to it forces you to listen to the radio announcers (even today on those new music stations), just to hear them identify the song. You beat your fist on the dashboard in frustration when they didn't -- and rhythmically on the steering wheel as you repeated the title/artist mantra out loud when they did (yes, all the way to the record shop). If you were home alone on a Saturday night, you could even call into the radio station and ask... The final nail on your loser coffin. This alone made DJs vital to your life.
But, again, sometimes you couldn't count on the DJ for help. You just wandered, frustrated and annoyed until you found one of those rare and annoying but necessary walking encyclopedias of musical knowledge -- those who can who can hear, process & recall such info (along with band, album name, and concert date at CBGB's). We need these geeks of music. And they know it. Hence their egos.
Now the chips on the shoulders of those who do not recall as well have been replaced by some computer chip.
Sure, it's cleaner, easier, and costs your pride less to hold up a device and get the answer than it is to humbly ask your local music knowledge god. But the computer chip has no great stories.
It won't regale you with tales of rock concerts.
Or of staying home one night after being dumped and polishing off a six-pack of Zimas solo while listening to November Rain over and over again until you could get pissed enough (emotionally & alcohol-wise) to angrily sing-scream along with I Used To Love Her.
(Axel Rose sure knew how to musically score a love life -- or so I'm told. I never did that, of course. It's just an example... From my, uh, friend's life.)
Sooner or later we all have the thrill of playing music knowledge god too. Eventually a friend doesn't know the latest release by the hottest new artist -- but you do. And then you get to express your superiority & snark as you reply, "How do you not know of The The?!" followed by a "sheesh!" or a sigh and the mandatory eyeball roll.
Without these mental musical blanks in the minds of your friends, how would you ever get that opening to tell the story of why you'll never-ever forget the Pet Shop Boys' or West End Girls -- because that song sooo reminds you of the night you were sooo drunk you woke up in the dorm's girls' bathroom, staring at the "janitor's" shoes. (He said he was the janitor, but what janitor wears patent leather shoes to his job?)
How else will we be able to share these stories?
Oh yeah... Blogs.
But then, it's not quite the same as being asked -- and I have no idea if you're even listening.
I have no idea if this is Eddie Leonard surrounded by a bevy of 1920 beauties; but the photo is fetching. It's not why I bought it though. I bought it because you can't help but read it as "Ida, sweet as apple cida."
After the Trash or Treasure event at the Plains Art Museum today, we stopped in one of our favorite local antique malls where I snapped-up, at $1 each, these 8 x 10 promotional photos of the band the Nock-A-Bouts.
I believe the men are older in the second photo; hubby says the photos were taken the same day because of their suits. I insist the first photo of the trio is them in their hey-day, playing the college & club circuit; the latter them on the way down, older musicians trying to get a gig -- the same suits are the result of not being able to afford new suits.
A little research shows very little on the trio, other than they were Dorsey, Flo & Jimmy Clark (Dorsey presumably the one, in both photos, with the "D" hanky in his pocket) and they cut at least one comedy/party album. As the title of the recording is The Two Sides of the Nock-A-Bouts, I'm guessing hubby is right. And now I'll need to eat my own hat. Or pith helmet. Or whatever.
Highlights of this show include DJ's late arrival ~ not due to, as James said, the chronic tardiness of guitarists, but DJ's Internet stalking of yours truly (visits to Peek-A-Boob and Sex-Kitten ~ who can blame him then for being late?), and the continual mockery of the musicians for being underage for the show (complete with a crazy phone call from Captain Planet aka Jill B. of SWOP-East).
OK, so those weren't the highlights of the show...
We might have been tempted to believe Gracie's comments were the self-deprecating mutterings of a woman who knows that "You gotta laugh when you're the joke"; but then we read the following from SIXX:A.M. fans as DJ Ashba's "Ashbaland Forum":
listen carefully for my favorite parts of that interview, in not much of a particular order:
dj whining defensively, "man! i was 2 minutes late!" you can hear him smile. too cute.
the lady calling to dispute their ages. did she REALLY say shed never been a member of a cult before? i keep meaning to listen to that part again, but its just not THAT important. when i heard it i got a vision in my head of some lady sitting next to her radio believing that she was being initiated into a real cult and that if she just passed this preliminary test, shed score her place in line waiting for the pitcher of kool aid to be passed around. the post show notes credit her with being a host to another show, but when i was listening i had no idea who she was and it was just funny.
How on earth did we miss this?
*side note* now that i think about it, i wonder why it wasnt promoted a bit more. weve all seen 2 minutes interview clips that get boatloads of hype and press. here was a 48 minute call in show that id never even heard of till a couple of days after the fact. as it turned out, maybe it was alot more fun just listening to them sorta hanging out than it mighta been to hear other people calling in with questions that have been answered in 45873 other interviews...this one was entertaining cuz it was unique if nothing else lol.
An old promotional invitation for the After Easter Ball, arranged by the White Lily Socials, at the Bahn Frei Turn Hall, Sat. Eve., April 13, 1912.
Printed on the back, is the following cheeky and charming song:
I've Got to Go and Get Myself a Girl Like You
Little Miss Muffet sat down on a tuffet, whatever a tuffet may be, When young Sammy Snyder sat down right beside her and spoke unto her soothingly; Be quite alarmless, for I am quite harmless, But I saw you were human like me, So I thought I might sit and look at you a bit, And this is the answer, said he, The more of you I see The more my heart tells me:
I've got to go and get myself a girl like you, That's some job to do, For they come feew, but believe me, If I can't find one just like you, I don't care who you belong to, I'll come right back again, Right straight back again and steal you.
Little Miss Muffet stood up on her tuffet, and said, Vas is los mit your head, You're feverish, mercy, run right home to nursie and tell her to put you to bed; Where can you find sir, a girl of my kind, sir, If your optics could "op" you would see, That while boys will be boys and while girls will be girls, There is only one me, and that's me. Said he, I guess that's so But still I guess I'll go.
The purpose of this meme is to give high-fives to 5 people, posts, blogs and/or websites you've admired during the week. I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 5 high-fives on Friday. Trackbacks, pings, linky widgets, comment links accepted!
Visiting fellow High-Fivers is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your High-Fives in others comments (please note if NWS).
Patty Clayton was the first radio voice of Chiquita for radio in 1944, followed by Elsa Miranda for 1945-6 promotional tour. Elsa Puerto Rican not related to the Brazillian singer in the fruit hat who inspired the character of Chiquita Banana.
Chantilly lace and a pretty face And a pony tail a hangin down That wiggle in the walk And giggle in the talk Makes the world go round There ain't nothin in the world Like a big eyed girl That makes me act so funny Make me spend my money Make me feel real loose like a long necked goose Like a girl, oh baby that's what I like
My mom used to sing this song -- everywhere. My kids even know it now. Hence my darn-near-hatred of the Chantilly fragrance.
Even though Xmas is past, don't knock the winter kids' music -- there's not a hint of Christmas in Frosty the Snowman. Recorded as a cash-in follow-up to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the silly little song gave a personality to every snowman made by kids since (well, up until Calvin took it a different direction) . We even overlook that the song ends with the disgusting death of the main character, and his ominous promise of resurrection...maybe there's something more Easter in the song than Christmas.
I stumbled into this baby on Saturday during thrift shop excursions.
A select group of records, each with sticker prices higher than the LPs in the regular rack, sat at the wrap desk. I poked through them and while I could wrinkle my nose at most of them, this one stuck out both for its comic cover design (as in 'looks like a comic' -- tho, I admit it is comic in other ways) and for its hefty (for me) price tag. $8.99? I've paid much less for a box full of records. In fact, I don't think I've paid this much for a record since they were the only other way to buy them other than cassette tape... And I didn't even know what this one was or who made it.
New Birth? Featuring Leslie Wilson? Behold The Mighty Army? And why did the thrift shop think this was worthy of such a price? Was it the slit-open but largely intact cellophane? Well, curiosity and nice looking vinyl won over and I brought it home.
Turns out New Birth was a concept band. The brainchild of Vernon Bullock, New Birth was a touring company comprised of several groups who could each perform separately as well as part of the larger group. They were formed in 1963 with some help from Harvey Fuqua, and signed with RCA, but it wasn't until 1971 that Leslie Wilson (and his brother Melvin Wilson, Ann Bogan and a few others) joined.
New Birth recorded five albums for RCA. Then, in 1975, they split with RCA, Harvey Fuqua and their management and signed with Buddah Records where they made two records.
At Buddah, Melvin created a new stage presence for New Birth's rebirth. Bill Witten made stage costumes for the group, which had come to Marvin in his dreams. The group also incorporated the use of rear screen projection and had films commissioned to run as part of their performance, which was also a first for R & B artists. (soulwalking.co.uk)
It was during these "Buddah years" that the band "all lived together in a mansion in the famed Hollywood Hills that they dubbed 'the band house'."
Also during this time, in 1976, they released Love Potion. The album had award-winning cover art, designed by Melvin Wilson and photographer Norman Seeff, which featured all 12 band members posing together naked.
In 1977 they released Behold The Mighty Army, which was the last album. In-fighting & bickering over money, creative differences (and likely who used who's toothbrush) brought the New Birth to the same old death.
New Birth's songs have apparently been covered (or sampled) by K-Ci & Jo Jo, Notorious BIG, Something for the People, and De La Soul, to name a few. So some of it may sound a bit familiar.
As for the sound of the LP, it's classic soul mixed with old school funk and it doesn't disappoint.
New Birth still exists -- with Melvin & Leslie Wilson. But that's not the New Birth that Bullock had in mind, now is it.
I love my country, 'deed I do But oh, that war has made me blue. I like fightin' that's my name, But fightin' is the least a-bout the fightin' game. When Mister Hoover said to cut my dinner down, I never even hesitate, I never frown; I cut my sugar, I cut my coal, But now they dug deep in my soul.
I've got the blues -- I've got the blues, I've got the alcoholic blues. No more beer my heart to cheer; Goodbye whiskey, you used to make me frisky. So long high-ball, so long gin. Oh, tell me when you comin' back a-gin? Blues -- I've got the blues Since they amputated my booze Lord-y Lord-y, war is well -- you know, I don't have to tell-- Oh, I've got the alcoholic blues, some blues -- I've got the blues.
Prohibition that's the name, Prohibition, drives me insane. I'm so thirsty, soon I'll die, I'm simply goin' to 'vaporate, I'm just that dry. I wouldn't mind to live forever in a trench, Just if my daily thirst they only let me quench; And not with Bevo or Gingerale I want real stuff by the pail.
Copyright 1919 by Broadway Music Corporation. Words by Edward Laska, music by Albert Von Tilzer.
In 1958, RCA Camden released "Hits of the '50s", just 1/5 short of the actual decade's end. Not that they were missing much -- the hits for the rest of the decade echoed what's on this record: light popular music, with just a touch of rock-and-roll. This is a 'cover' album in the traditional sense, new versions of popular music performed by B-list musicians rather than the one who popularized the song. The Honeydreamers, Connie Haines, Dave Martin and the Strollers, they had names outside of this album, and are a step above a studio band. The songs are actually pretty good: Peter Ricardo's version of the Banana Boat Song takes from the Tarrier's version, and is a bouncy alternative to the rather somber Bellafonte version.
That space helmet kicks ass -- remember, in 1958, sending a person into space was still a sci-fi fantasy. Once we started popping people out of our atmosphere, space helmets stopped looking like this one, opting for a more stark, aviation style.
The antenna on top is a classy Googie, Jetsons thing -- with radio and television dominating the world, everything in The Future would need an antenna, even your head (they were actually pretty close). Back in the fifties, though, putting airtight plastic over a kid's head was preparation for their spacefaring futures -- their flying cars were only a few years away. Until then, though, Dad dons his porkpie hat, mom wears her opera gloves, everyone hops into the Volkswagen to drive it to the farthest star. Make sure the canvas roof is closed, though. That cloth sunroof, incidentally, warranted a credit on the back of the cover: Volkswagen Sunroof supplied by Fifth Avenue Motors, New York City. The photographer's name, the models' names? Nowhere to be found.