Who: Colorado
What: California Dreaming (b/w "Space Lady Love")
Label: Pinnacle
When: 1978
Who: Colorado
What: California Dreaming (b/w "Space Lady Love")
Label: Pinnacle
When: 1978
Monday, May 9, 2011
Second Hand Record Dip Part 73 - Colorado - California Dreaming/ Space Lady Love
Who: Colorado
What: California Dreaming (b/w "Space Lady Love")
Label: Pinnacle
When: 1978
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Re-upload - Goliath - Port and Lemon Lady
Label: CBS
Year of Release: 1970
As the sixties waved goodbye and everyone wept - or so popular culture would have us believe, but it's safe to say that wasn't universally true - the old guard didn't so much change their stripes as gently mutate into other beasts. The bubblegum brigade largely turned their attentions to glam (Mud and The Sweet had both been around and been ignored during the sixties, lest we forget). The garage rock acts frequently morphed into full blown hard rock bands. And then the psychedelic hippies, seemingly for want of anything better to do, carried on exploring their pastoral and experimental influences until, in some cases, we got something rather like this lot.
Goliath were one of several prog-folk acts to emerge almost exactly at the same time as the sixties faded, and whilst as a genre it didn't really have any big-hitting names like Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin, it nonetheless ploughed its own particular furrow for a rather long period of time. Unlike many of their rivals (or perhaps we should say "fellow travellers") however, Goliath had a distinct blues influences to their work as well, and were probably one of the only acts of the era to combine raunchy vocals- courtesy of lead singer Linda Rothwell - with puffing flutes. As the various cultures clash and compete for your ear's attention across the grooves, it should be a tremendous mess, but amazingly it all hangs together very well.
"Port and Lemon Lady" was CBS's choice for the single off their sole eponymous album, and is a rather merry little number which I personally find close to irritating, but the B-side "I Heard About a Friend" is rather more serious and satisfying and displays the band's strengths much more successfully.
Some critics referred to them as being the British Jefferson Airplane - whether that's the case or not, they seemingly never had an opportunity to record another album, and petered out a few years later. Their sole long player has never been reissued, and is now extremely collectible - the single features nothing which isn't already on the album and is as such less desirable, but still pretty scarce. Enjoy, although I do feel that this is probably an acquired taste, more like gin in that respect than Port and lemon.
(This blog entry was originally uploaded in May 2009, since when Goliath's sole album appears to have been re-issued on CD. All's well that ends well, then!)
Label: CBS
Year of Release: 1970
As the sixties waved goodbye and everyone wept - or so popular culture would have us believe, but it's safe to say that wasn't universally true - the old guard didn't so much change their stripes as gently mutate into other beasts. The bubblegum brigade largely turned their attentions to glam (Mud and The Sweet had both been around and been ignored during the sixties, lest we forget). The garage rock acts frequently morphed into full blown hard rock bands. And then the psychedelic hippies, seemingly for want of anything better to do, carried on exploring their pastoral and experimental influences until, in some cases, we got something rather like this lot.
Goliath were one of several prog-folk acts to emerge almost exactly at the same time as the sixties faded, and whilst as a genre it didn't really have any big-hitting names like Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin, it nonetheless ploughed its own particular furrow for a rather long period of time. Unlike many of their rivals (or perhaps we should say "fellow travellers") however, Goliath had a distinct blues influences to their work as well, and were probably one of the only acts of the era to combine raunchy vocals- courtesy of lead singer Linda Rothwell - with puffing flutes. As the various cultures clash and compete for your ear's attention across the grooves, it should be a tremendous mess, but amazingly it all hangs together very well.
"Port and Lemon Lady" was CBS's choice for the single off their sole eponymous album, and is a rather merry little number which I personally find close to irritating, but the B-side "I Heard About a Friend" is rather more serious and satisfying and displays the band's strengths much more successfully.
Some critics referred to them as being the British Jefferson Airplane - whether that's the case or not, they seemingly never had an opportunity to record another album, and petered out a few years later. Their sole long player has never been reissued, and is now extremely collectible - the single features nothing which isn't already on the album and is as such less desirable, but still pretty scarce. Enjoy, although I do feel that this is probably an acquired taste, more like gin in that respect than Port and lemon.
(This blog entry was originally uploaded in May 2009, since when Goliath's sole album appears to have been re-issued on CD. All's well that ends well, then!)
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Underground Sunshine - Birthday/ All I Want Is You
Label: Intrepid
Year of Release: 1969
You know the drill with cheeky cash-in Beatles cover versions from the sixties by now - or if you don't, here's a handy guide which was doubtless followed by music industry hucksters at the time:
1. Listen to a copy of the latest Beatles LP, preferably a pre-release if you can obtain one.
2. Get that ailing band whose career you're worried about to record one of the stronger tracks as quickly as possible. Don't waste money on orchestras, complex arrangements, or production values, just bang the bastard out at speed - you'll need to release it before anyone else gets the same idea, and time is of the essence.
3. Release the disc, and hope with your fingers tightly crossed that it launches some new stars.
4. If it flops, drop the band like hot bricks. If it charts, watch with a sinking heart over the next year as it becomes apparent that they will never have another hit ever again.
So many band's careers followed the above pattern that it's amazing anyone in the industry was still bothering with the technique by 1969. The Young Idea, The Truth, The Overlanders, Ray Morgan... all these artists had a short, sharp hit of success by riding on the back of Lennon and McCartney's tunesmithery, only to be relegated back on to the Working Man's club circuit within the twelve month.
I had assumed that in the USA this was less common practice, but Underground Sunshine managed to climb to number 26 on the Billboard Chart with this, their slightly limp-wristed cover of "Birthday". Whereas the original has oomph, wah-wah piano, and a thumping proto-glam rock performance from Ringo Starr, the Sunshine here turn it into a bubblegum affair. It's not bad, but it adds nothing and subtracts a fair amount, rendering the exercise as pointless as the ones their British cousins over the water attempted.
Far better is the B-side "All I Want Is You" where the band shine through in their true colours, sounding almost mod-ish and turning out a groovesome mix of hypnotic organ washes, laidback vocals, funky guitar lines and a non-fussy, raw delivery. I must confess that I wasn't terribly sure about uploading this one - initially I felt it may be a bit too laissez-faire for its own good - but completely without prompting a number of friends have given it the thumbs-up upon hearing it, which has given me enough faith to deliver it to you good readers.
Underground Sunshine eventually issued a full-length album entitled "Let There Be More Light", but as this and subsequent singles (including the David Gates cover "Don't Shut Me Out") failed to chart convincingly, their number was up by 1970.
Label: Intrepid
Year of Release: 1969
You know the drill with cheeky cash-in Beatles cover versions from the sixties by now - or if you don't, here's a handy guide which was doubtless followed by music industry hucksters at the time:
1. Listen to a copy of the latest Beatles LP, preferably a pre-release if you can obtain one.
2. Get that ailing band whose career you're worried about to record one of the stronger tracks as quickly as possible. Don't waste money on orchestras, complex arrangements, or production values, just bang the bastard out at speed - you'll need to release it before anyone else gets the same idea, and time is of the essence.
3. Release the disc, and hope with your fingers tightly crossed that it launches some new stars.
4. If it flops, drop the band like hot bricks. If it charts, watch with a sinking heart over the next year as it becomes apparent that they will never have another hit ever again.
So many band's careers followed the above pattern that it's amazing anyone in the industry was still bothering with the technique by 1969. The Young Idea, The Truth, The Overlanders, Ray Morgan... all these artists had a short, sharp hit of success by riding on the back of Lennon and McCartney's tunesmithery, only to be relegated back on to the Working Man's club circuit within the twelve month.
I had assumed that in the USA this was less common practice, but Underground Sunshine managed to climb to number 26 on the Billboard Chart with this, their slightly limp-wristed cover of "Birthday". Whereas the original has oomph, wah-wah piano, and a thumping proto-glam rock performance from Ringo Starr, the Sunshine here turn it into a bubblegum affair. It's not bad, but it adds nothing and subtracts a fair amount, rendering the exercise as pointless as the ones their British cousins over the water attempted.
Far better is the B-side "All I Want Is You" where the band shine through in their true colours, sounding almost mod-ish and turning out a groovesome mix of hypnotic organ washes, laidback vocals, funky guitar lines and a non-fussy, raw delivery. I must confess that I wasn't terribly sure about uploading this one - initially I felt it may be a bit too laissez-faire for its own good - but completely without prompting a number of friends have given it the thumbs-up upon hearing it, which has given me enough faith to deliver it to you good readers.
Underground Sunshine eventually issued a full-length album entitled "Let There Be More Light", but as this and subsequent singles (including the David Gates cover "Don't Shut Me Out") failed to chart convincingly, their number was up by 1970.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Funktion - Dance of the Clangers
Label: Pye
Year of Release: 1972
A perplexing mystery of a disc, this one. Released initially on Pye in 1972, then again on the Beacon label in 1973 under the name "The Clangers", this single is a very obvious attempt at cashing in on the phenomenon of those moon dwelling, dustbin lid clashing beasts who were all over British children's television in the seventies.
Anyone expecting a child-pleasing record akin to The Teletubbies is going to be confused, however. "Dance of the Clangers" is actually a bass heavy, organ driven reggae track with a few Swanee whistles tacked on as an afterthought. The whistling effects aren't especially Clanger-like - as many a media pundit has pointed out before now, The Clangers always sounded as if they were talking in their own rhythmic language, whereas here it's just a bunch of tootling and pootling noises looking for a place to fit in the mix. It may fail as a tribute, but in fairness it cooks a decent enough groove and holds its own with some of the strongest instrumentals of the period. Therefore, it's a failed novelty single, but a perfectly good reggae track. It's not often that something clearly marketed as cheap tat ends up coming up trumps as a genuinely good piece of forgotten music instead, but you can count this among the very small pile of records that applies to.
I'll finish on a standard plea - if you were behind this record or know who was, please do let me know.
Label: Pye
Year of Release: 1972
A perplexing mystery of a disc, this one. Released initially on Pye in 1972, then again on the Beacon label in 1973 under the name "The Clangers", this single is a very obvious attempt at cashing in on the phenomenon of those moon dwelling, dustbin lid clashing beasts who were all over British children's television in the seventies.
Anyone expecting a child-pleasing record akin to The Teletubbies is going to be confused, however. "Dance of the Clangers" is actually a bass heavy, organ driven reggae track with a few Swanee whistles tacked on as an afterthought. The whistling effects aren't especially Clanger-like - as many a media pundit has pointed out before now, The Clangers always sounded as if they were talking in their own rhythmic language, whereas here it's just a bunch of tootling and pootling noises looking for a place to fit in the mix. It may fail as a tribute, but in fairness it cooks a decent enough groove and holds its own with some of the strongest instrumentals of the period. Therefore, it's a failed novelty single, but a perfectly good reggae track. It's not often that something clearly marketed as cheap tat ends up coming up trumps as a genuinely good piece of forgotten music instead, but you can count this among the very small pile of records that applies to.
I'll finish on a standard plea - if you were behind this record or know who was, please do let me know.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The Truth - Jingle Jangle (b/w "Hey Gyp")
Label: Deram
Year of Release: 1967
Despite their presence on this blog, North London duo The Truth were actually no strangers to the charts, having hit number 27 in 1966 with their cover version of The Beatles' "Girl". Beyond that, however, their career was somewhat underwhelming, their six other singles failing to register with the public.
Performed by a duo consisting of ex-hairdressers Frank Aiello and Steve Gold, "Jingle Jangle" is a Reg Presley penned ditty which would perhaps have been too subtle in its West Coast harmony derived popness to leap out of the radio. Despite its lack of punchy immediacy, it is a perfectly pleasant piece of work, and one which might have made sense as a follow-up to a hit rather than an attempt to hoist the act back into the public eye again.
The B-side, however, is the one which still frequently gets spins on mod dancefloors to this day. We've already heard Keith Shields' version of "Hey Gyp (Dig The Slowness)", but The Truth's attempt is full of aggression and incessant pounding, going nowhere in particular but building and building on its stripped back, hectoring theme, like a a more sharply suited and soulful version of The Monks. One of those mod records which possibly lays the foundations for harder edged sounds, it's a little bit mean and arguably makes more sense in a club than in a living room - but it still should be heard.
Once The Truth decided to call it a day, Steve Gold renamed himself Steve Jameson and cut a number of other discs, including the Northern Soul favourite "Goodbye Nothing To Say".
Label: Deram
Year of Release: 1967
Despite their presence on this blog, North London duo The Truth were actually no strangers to the charts, having hit number 27 in 1966 with their cover version of The Beatles' "Girl". Beyond that, however, their career was somewhat underwhelming, their six other singles failing to register with the public.
Performed by a duo consisting of ex-hairdressers Frank Aiello and Steve Gold, "Jingle Jangle" is a Reg Presley penned ditty which would perhaps have been too subtle in its West Coast harmony derived popness to leap out of the radio. Despite its lack of punchy immediacy, it is a perfectly pleasant piece of work, and one which might have made sense as a follow-up to a hit rather than an attempt to hoist the act back into the public eye again.
The B-side, however, is the one which still frequently gets spins on mod dancefloors to this day. We've already heard Keith Shields' version of "Hey Gyp (Dig The Slowness)", but The Truth's attempt is full of aggression and incessant pounding, going nowhere in particular but building and building on its stripped back, hectoring theme, like a a more sharply suited and soulful version of The Monks. One of those mod records which possibly lays the foundations for harder edged sounds, it's a little bit mean and arguably makes more sense in a club than in a living room - but it still should be heard.
Once The Truth decided to call it a day, Steve Gold renamed himself Steve Jameson and cut a number of other discs, including the Northern Soul favourite "Goodbye Nothing To Say".
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Easter Island
Er... sorry. I know I usually do at least two entries a week here on "Left and to the Back", but it's a busy old hive here at the moment. My blogging idleness in this instance is partly influenced by that and the fact that the stats for this site traditionally plummet over Easter anyway while you lot visit your relatives and stuff cocoa into your fat gobs. While I'm not wanted, why should I put in the effort, eh? Answer me that. And anyway, it's been at least a year-and-a-half since this blog has had any sort of interruption or break.
"We wouldn't get this sort of silence from somebody who worked in the professional media, you know!" Yes, I do know. That's what happens when people deliver content for free, you naughty, Big Society dwelling Creme Egg lovers.
I'll be back on Wednesday with a proper update. In the meantime, admire the picture of my Elizabethan Astronaut stacking record player above (forty pounds off ebay, a bargain) or visit some of the other blog links to the left of the page. The grandly but accurately titled "Lord of the Boot Sale" is the undisputed novelty vinyl collecting champion, even having a copy of Jimmy Savile's much sought-after "Ahab the Arab". Freaky Trigger are still continuing their detailed and fantastic reviews of every British number one single ever. And "Yes It's Number One" are analysing the series of "Top of the Pops" repeats on BBC4. If ye are desperate for web content, the content is there.
See you in a few days.
Er... sorry. I know I usually do at least two entries a week here on "Left and to the Back", but it's a busy old hive here at the moment. My blogging idleness in this instance is partly influenced by that and the fact that the stats for this site traditionally plummet over Easter anyway while you lot visit your relatives and stuff cocoa into your fat gobs. While I'm not wanted, why should I put in the effort, eh? Answer me that. And anyway, it's been at least a year-and-a-half since this blog has had any sort of interruption or break.
"We wouldn't get this sort of silence from somebody who worked in the professional media, you know!" Yes, I do know. That's what happens when people deliver content for free, you naughty, Big Society dwelling Creme Egg lovers.
I'll be back on Wednesday with a proper update. In the meantime, admire the picture of my Elizabethan Astronaut stacking record player above (forty pounds off ebay, a bargain) or visit some of the other blog links to the left of the page. The grandly but accurately titled "Lord of the Boot Sale" is the undisputed novelty vinyl collecting champion, even having a copy of Jimmy Savile's much sought-after "Ahab the Arab". Freaky Trigger are still continuing their detailed and fantastic reviews of every British number one single ever. And "Yes It's Number One" are analysing the series of "Top of the Pops" repeats on BBC4. If ye are desperate for web content, the content is there.
See you in a few days.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Raymond Lefevre - A Whiter Shade of Pale
Label: Major Minor
Year of Release: 1967
I'm an enormous fan of Raymond Lefevre which regular readers will already know, as I gushed on at some length about the man's skills as an arranger here. The subject of that entry, "Soul Coaxing", is undoubtedly his finest moment and the one most people would choose to highlight. I'm not going to argue with that, but his strengths don't really stop there.
"A Whiter Shade of Pale" is a single which has perhaps become over-familiar, being one of the most played records of all time on the global airwaves. Lefevre's version highlights the song's strengths and even edits it down, resisting the temptation to use the orchestra to make an epic record sound in some way more "classical". In this context, it perversely ends up sounding more concise and "pop" than the original whilst retaining its swooning, delirious feel, at times sounding melodramatic where the Harum's version frequently sounded self-consciously mysterious. For me, the absence of the slightly overblown and surreal lyrics is also a plus point, although I recognise millions of people will disagree with me.
There's really not much more to add here - as many readers will despise this as like it, but for me this is supremely well realised easy listening music which barely puts a foot wrong in its translation.
King Curtis also cut a version of "Whiter Shade of Pale" which was eventually used in the soundtrack of "Withnail and I", and for me that's also a worthy interpretation - and may be another entry for another day.
Sorry for the pops and clicks, by the way - this isn't a perfect copy of the single.
Label: Major Minor
Year of Release: 1967
I'm an enormous fan of Raymond Lefevre which regular readers will already know, as I gushed on at some length about the man's skills as an arranger here. The subject of that entry, "Soul Coaxing", is undoubtedly his finest moment and the one most people would choose to highlight. I'm not going to argue with that, but his strengths don't really stop there.
"A Whiter Shade of Pale" is a single which has perhaps become over-familiar, being one of the most played records of all time on the global airwaves. Lefevre's version highlights the song's strengths and even edits it down, resisting the temptation to use the orchestra to make an epic record sound in some way more "classical". In this context, it perversely ends up sounding more concise and "pop" than the original whilst retaining its swooning, delirious feel, at times sounding melodramatic where the Harum's version frequently sounded self-consciously mysterious. For me, the absence of the slightly overblown and surreal lyrics is also a plus point, although I recognise millions of people will disagree with me.
There's really not much more to add here - as many readers will despise this as like it, but for me this is supremely well realised easy listening music which barely puts a foot wrong in its translation.
King Curtis also cut a version of "Whiter Shade of Pale" which was eventually used in the soundtrack of "Withnail and I", and for me that's also a worthy interpretation - and may be another entry for another day.
Sorry for the pops and clicks, by the way - this isn't a perfect copy of the single.