Aardvark Nostril Hair Crisper

Mad River had everything going for them. Skinny girlfriends at Antioch College, catered blotter acid, a major-label contract, the late sixties ... what could possibly go wrong?

A cursory dip into their recordings will reveal why they were never as big as (uh) Pacific Gas & Electric. It's Lawrence Hammond's "mournful, quavering vocals" as Allmusic puts it, "a voice to crisp an aardvark's nose hairs."

I'm betting he was in the band because he had family money. That's my guess. It's not that he was without talent. It's just that the talent was beyond human comprehension. Maybe they sing like this on Planet Zzyxxlo, which is eight billion years away from your house. Here's their first album, with a psyched-up sleeve guaranteed to give you a contact high.

And here's the first Berkley e.p., recorded in the spin-polarized tilt-a-whirl of cosmic optimism and jungle despair that birthed The Country Joe & His Fishes.

And their second album, Paradise Bar & Grill where they made the traditional kaftan-burning move away from psychedelia to country rock so familiar to habituées of La Maison d' Mousse©.

And Jersey Sloo, a limited edition e.p., with a better sleeve. I'm not bragging here - it would be impossible to come up with worse than the original. Nice selection of early studio cuts.

And a ragbag of bootleg odds and ends, live shit and demos. Not for the fainthearted (their Antioch audience certainly wasn't - listen hard and you can hear their girlfriends cheering).

Thinking Outside The Pentangle

In a perfect world, John Renbourn would be valued more highly. Faro Annie is from '72, a beautiful mix of U.S. and U.K. influences, with a touch of sitar, a touch of wah-wah.

Lost Sessions comes from the following year, and heightens the country-rock band flavor. Perhaps guilty about deserting his folk roots, he junked the entire album. He shouldn't have worried - it's pretty damn gorgeous. Never the strongest of vocalists, his singing is gently addictive, and his playing - everybody's playing - is a joy.

Bert Jansch is inseparable in musical memory from Renbourn. His L.A. Turnaround, from '74, explores similar post-Pentangle territory. Sympathetically produced by FoamFavorite© Michael Nesmith, and featuring Red Rhodes - yay! - the album also boasts some of Jansch's strongest singing.

Both artists would head back to "purer" acoustic music, leaving these albums for konnoisseurs of kountry to discover and be grateful for.

"A Lot Of Bread In Those Days" - The John Fogerty Interview

"We always loved that name," John Fogerty says. "The Golliwogs! It had class, and it had that kind of British feeling that was current at the time. My girlfriend, Susi, she came up with it. She had this cute soft toy collection, Raggedy Andy, that was another one, but she just knew that Golliwogs was right - spiritually. She was intuitive that way, star signs, like that. Anyway, I loved it, but the band thought it ... well, they didn't go for it a whole bunch, but what you gonna do? We had the cover slick printed up and everything, for the album, which looked great, way before that whole Sergeant Pepper thing. We could only afford to rent two costumes, though. Just the jackets, the hats. Eight bucks! That was a lot of bread in those days. Never got that back."

Today's FMF© Legacy Recording is the entire Golliwogs œuvre [Fr. egg - Ed.] housed in a fine original Art Print that you'll be proud to display in den or lobby!

"The Most Listened-To Band In America"

The Buckinghams didn't much like their 1967 hit, Kind Of A Drag, and let producer Jim Guercio lead them into more complex arrangements (Al Kooper admits the magnificent first BS&T album was directly inspired by the Bucks).

The Beatles' influence was keenly felt, but the hits dried up and by 1968, the presciently-titled In One Ear And Gone Tomorrow signaled the end of their reign as Billboard's  "Most Listened-To Band In America".

From sketchy garage rock, through ornate pop-psych and Guercio's horn charts, they cut four albums in under two years.

We're still listening. What a groovy, groovy band. Groovy cover art, too!

King Tut

Tut Taylor wasn't even a household name in his own house. "Who the hell are you?" his wife asked every morning. "Hey! I was in the Folkswingers!" he replied. "Never heard of 'em!" At which point he'd sigh and point to the printout of his Wikipedia page stuck to the refrigerator door.

You like guitar playin' and a-pickin' with a Tennessee swing, King Tut's your man, yessireebob. It's resophonic, is what it is!

Da Boids Is Da Woid - Part IV

Younger Than Yesterday. Longer, too. Thirty-five tracks, mono and stereo, associated recordings, all from official releases. Proto-psych, Chris Hillman stepping up, Gary Usher producing, David Crosby being a pain in the ass - it seems sacrilege to say it, but Gene Clark is barely missed.

Your FMF© Coronavirus Promise!

FMF© staffer Kelly checks for germs yesterday

Unlike other music-related blogs adopting a sometimes satiric tone, FalseMemoryFoam© is taking the Coronavirus threat seriously.

And pro-actively.

Th' House O' Foam© now promises its valued clientele that every download will be absolutely free of the Yellow Peril. That's right, music fans! Unlike other blogs, whose attitude is frankly a fucking disgrace, every single download - or as near as makes no diff. - will be screened for the deadly disease that's bringing the world to its knees!

So, thanks to a corporate culture that puts customer care at the top of the list - just below making a buck - you, Mr. Consumer, may download in comfort and security from the blog that has Attempting To Strive as its proud mission statement!

As to other blogs - your life is in your hands.

NB Some re-ups may not yet have been screened

Sunday Something

Kathy McCord's debut album was a hot collectors' ticket a while back, and maybe still is. Creed Taylor chose it to launch CTI as an independent label in 1970, but sales were disappointing. Its mix of pop, folk-rock and jazz-lite didn't exactly fit in the marketplace, somehow. Ms. McCord's subsequent music career was patchy and frustrating, but she went as far as she could on the limited mileage of her voice.

For Sunday listening, this is just swell. Be it pottering about the house, scrapbooking, or freebasing with a Russian crack whore in the back of your van, these tunes are the perfect accompaniment!

Flower Pot Men

Mainstream was a mostly MOR/jazz label until CEO Abraham Shadrinsky signed Big Brother And The Holding Company after getting a contact high from a hippie in an elevator. Surprised by the album's success, Abe installed waterbeds and a bong in their  headquarters in Chicago's prestigious slaughterhouse district and released a compilation sampler of acts not even they'd heard of.

"These hippie shmucks are pissing in our ferns!" yelled CFO Morrie Slibowic. "Hihihihihih!" Shadrinsky squeaked before blacking out from a huge bong hit.

They were on a roll, releasing albums by any bunch of swivel-eyed no-hopers who could stand up without help, including rabid hillbilly Ted Nugent, who signed his contract with his face.

It couldn't last. But the label limped on longer than anyone thought it might, given that The Amboy Dukes were their tentpole act. Here's a couple of samplers in advance of albums currently stored in th' House O'Foam© crawl space. Some of it is pretty swell. You decide.

Pure Pleasure

The term guilty pleasure is one I don't like. It implies that you consider yourself to have more refined tastes than the common herd, and yet are capable of wallowing in their kitsch pleasures on occasion, which makes you adorably human. A commenter suggested that Rod Stewart is a guilty pleasure of mine - he's not. Simple pleasure needs no qualification. But when I first picked up The Pleasure Fair in the early seventies, I kept it hidden from the cool crowd I slouched around with, and my pleasure in it did have a guilty aspect to it - like I was burning my freak flag, or at least singeing it at the edges. It was undeniably plastic, man, but the songs made me feel good - what was wrong with me?

These days, of course, who gives a flying fuck what anybody likes? And I still like this. How could anybody not? Especially in this expanded version uniquely crafted by none other than sitarswami [FX: ELECTRIC SITAR, WINDCHIMES] internet mystic and psychedelic panjandrum. He's trawled his unicorn-mane dreamcatcher across the ætheric void to gather a handful of associated recordings by the core (pre-Bread) line-up under different names. They're super-swell. You may never hear them unless you download this. And nobody's watching.

Cheese And Ham On Ry

Blue City is an early Ross Macdonald novel, written as Kenneth Millar, and for lovers of the noir genre (such as moi) it's a grail find. It took me a long time to appreciate Macdonald, being a lifetime Hammett/Chandler maven, but over the years he's joined them in the Big Three; red-hot Hammett, cool-as-rocks-in-rye Chandler, and icy Macdonald, equally good, and each quintessentially of their times.

Blue City was written before Macdonald established the formal style of the Lew Archer books. It's relentless, visceral action; page-turning story, deep-enough characters, and a lurid grind-house style. So of course someone made a shit movie out of it. The critics raved: "The worst major studio film we've seen in recent memory." "How many ways can a movie go wrong? ... subzero chemistry ... preposterous action ... dull sex ... witless wisecracks ..." First-time director Michelle Manning never directed another movie, which was the only silver lining in this stinking cloud of smog.

Unfeasibly, Ry Cooder supplied the soundtrack. It's probably one of his rarer waxings, and deserved better than the "ham and cheese" of the movie.

(Hey! If any of youse bums read books, I'll upload the original novel. I ain't holdin' me breath. Gettin' to th' end of your own wanted poster is more than most of youse can manage.)

Rick Wrap

In Concert was the debut of the Stone Canyon Band (named after the Sherman Oaks address where they rehearsed), wayyyyyyy back at the tail end of the 'sixties, coming between Perspective and Rick Sings Nelson. It must have surprised everyone when it charted healthily, nudging the top fifty, and it took a couple of albums before he'd better that with Garden Party. It's prime Rick, sounding perfectly in tune with his band and the times, with fan-pleasing nods to his past.

This should unpack in iTunes as two discs. Let me know if it doesn't behave. The cover shown here is the vinyl original, but the download is the massively-expanded CD re-issue.

Today's bonus is the 6-disc The American Dream set, which gathers all his teen idol recordings, throws in a bunch of rarities, and packages it in this mean, moody and magnificent cover. The downside is that it's at a bitrate lower than a snake's belly - @128 - and although it sounds fine to me you may have loftier audio standards.

It's really only Elvis I can follow back to those years, but there's no doubting the talent, skill, and taste on display here.

This post wraps up what I have to offer from Nelson - if you have more and feel generous, links will be welcome in the comments, as ever.

Re-Ups - Hosted By Cody!

Hey, Ron - uh, fella?

Hi guys! Cody here! Mr. III has tasked me with re-upping some, like, tunes for you guys? So if you've asked recently, check back here in the comments to see if I made your day! And remember, if you want something re-upped, be nice or Mr. III will bounce a spittoon off your face! (... and no pretending to be a girl, "Bambi"!)

Oh yeah - ask for re-ups in the comments to the original piece, not here, okay? Kisses!

Ron Burgundy's Jazz Flute University

Dean Burgundy with some of the faculty at the prestigious opening ceremony, yesterday

In what promises to be an exciting new feature at Th' House O' Foam©, media celebrity Ron Burgundy® will be sharing course work from the curriculum of his Jazz Flute University (Pork Bend, Fla.).

"That's right, jazz students!" he said yesterday, "You won't get the advantage of sweaty one-on-one tutorials with faculty members, but you'll get a valuable introduction to my passion! Don't act like you're not impressed!

Charles Lloyd was a great hero and a personal friend. I taught him so much. I inspired his late sixties albums on Atlantic even before I was born. I don't know how to put this but I'm kind of a big deal. People respect me. Jazz people. Black people. Although Charles isn't black. I'm very important. I have many leather-bound books and my flute smells of Sting's vagina."

Dean of Faculty Burgundy kindly donated today's albums, recorded during the same concerts at San Francisco's Fillmore West (don't look for it, it's not there any more). 

EDIT: At the request of hundreds (Irving Hundreds, Flatbush NY) here's a bonus disc for those of you brave enough to dip your toes into Lloyd's Warm Waters. Al Jardine didn't make it to the cover, but he's here too.

Ka-live-oscope

Dese is all I gots in th' bootleg line. 
You probably have them already, but you won't have the covers, so at least you can make them look purty.

Quality is what we call "variable", but they're fun to spin once in a while.

Newport Folk Festival, Ash Grove, Cambridge, and the Shrine.

If you have other Kaleidoscope live recordings, you may like to contribute to humanity (or the four or five representatives of it who hang out here) by linkage in the comments - but I think this may be all there is.

EDIT: Here's artwork for Bob's Berkeley link in the comments - a short but (seven ate) sweet recording that deserves E.P. picture-sleeve status.

Kaleidoscope Kolors

Gee! Is this ever swell! A House O' Foam© exclusive, offering thirteen [14 - Ed.] rare non-album tracks from legendary Left Coast mindmelters Kaleidoscope! That's right, freak-out fans! More than any other compilation, and no cheating with live or "instrumental" tracks! Hoo boy! Are we having fun yet?

Not only that, but check out the retina-frying cover provided to you, Mr. Musiclover, ABSOLUTELY FREE! Imagine the looks of envy on the gang's faces as you spin this exclusive waxing in your treehouse club den!

From the single version of Why Try (the only song you'll find on an album) all the way through to the Zabriskie Point soundtrack, you'll believe you're experiencing a true thirty-six minute album experience with hauntingly-lifelike Kolors!

EDIT: Now includes extry trk!!!!!! It's the second in, Didi Ki (Down The Road I Go), an outtake from the first album. Download the whole enchilada again, junk the first edition. Yowsers!

Kollision In Kartoonistan

Everyone knows that Leonard Cohen got Kaleidoscope (Chester Crill, Chris Darrow, Solomon Feldthouse and David Lindley) to play on his first album. But not everyone knows about their last couple of studio albums, When Scopes Collide and Greetings From Kartoonistan (We Ain't Dead Yet).

The band (Brotman, Crill, Darrow, Feldthouse, Lagos, with Lindley sitting in) signed to Nesmith's Pacific Arts for their reunion album in '76, six years after Bernice, an album which stubbornly resists critical reappraisal as anything more than disappointing. When Scopes Collide is pretty darn good, and if the wild electric thrill of the earlier albums is absent, it was missing from the times, too.

We had to wait until '91 for the band to get its mojo back, when the same line-up (minus Lindley) cut the unlikely return-to-form Greetings From Kartoonistan, which would have made a swell follow-up to Incredible, all those years ago, and is much truer to the founding spirit of the band than Bernice.

Where Scopes was a little tired, this fizzes and bounces with energy. It's an unexpected delight and an under-appreciated swansong from one of the finest sixties bands.

New Sting Album - "This Smells Like My Vagina"

Sting (left) and new album cover, yesterday

FalseMemoryFoam© played host recently to famed actor, guru, environmentalist, tantric sex enthusiast, and punk rocker Sting. In this exclusive interview he talks about his latest album, slated to drop early April!

FMF© Sting, it's an honor to have you at Th' House O' Foam©!

Sting Of course it is.

FMF© So - the new album! That title! Very brave, and very Sting!

Sting It's a natural extension of my vagina into the marketplace. The smell of it.

FMF© Mm. That's swell! Will the album, you know, actually smell of your vagina?

Sting Yes it will. We investigated scratch n' sniff, but felt it was too inorganic. The microencapsulation process leaves a large carbon footprint and is unsustainable. So every album will be wiped across my own vagina before shrink-wrapping to ensure as pure as possible a transmission of the smell of my juices to the consumer. We believe it's a marketing first.

FMF© Very possibly. Would you care to talk about the music?

Sting It was an intensely creative and empowering process. I invited a select group of black jazz musicians to my wellness yurt atop Mount Baldie. I chose blacks because of the natural affinity I have with my black brothers. I have always believed I am part black. Perhaps it is my vagina. And I enjoy the respect they have for me, not only as a musician but as their employer.

FMF© And you have a tour lined up to promote the album?

Sting We do. It will be called The Smell Of Sting's Vagina Tour, and starts with a coast to coast tour of the states in the Vagina Bus. My musicians will sit at the back. I'll follow later in my Lear jet. [starts chanting, goes into trance]

Sting was kind enough to leave a complimentary copy of the new album. It must be faulty, because it smells like tuna.

Chris Darrow

CD versions with extra tracks. In advance of incoming Kaleidoscope piece.

Siddown! It's Sidran!

Ben Sidran was at the University of Sussex [a town in England - Ed.] in '66. That alone is mildly interesting enough, but during this period he recorded with Eric Clapton and the Rolling Stones. How does that happen? Antecedently, he'd played with Steve Miller and Boz Scaggs in The Ardells, back in Wisconsin. Were Clapton and the Stones big Ardells fans?

This could be them -

- although there were a few groups who thought calling themselves The Ardells was a swell idea. EDIT: Hugh Candyside avers this to be the Florida Ardells, AKA The American Beetles, and offers linkage in support. But as I can't find a picture of the Miller Ardells, it's all we got.

Anyways, diggin' Sidran marks you out as a cat wit' savoir faire [German - sausage market - Ed.] out th' ass. Here's a starter pack for yez; Feel Your Groove, 1970, I Lead A Life, '71, Puttin' In Time, '72, Don't Let Go, '73, and The Doctor Is In, '77.

Late And Great Gregg

Not that you should care, but I lost interest in the Allman Brothers Band when Dickey Betts was ousted. I tried to tag along, listened to all the later albums, but it's always the Betts material I return to. Any of it. Even the much-maligned Peakin' At The Beacon, which was held up as evidence for his ouster.

Betts' and Gregg Allman's solo outings remained of interest, although I never got around to hearing Allman's Searching For Simplicity. Here's the original Duck Tape Studio sessions which were later made over for the official release. There's nothing lacking here, and I'm baffled at the decision not to release them.

I've dressed up his last, post-mortem, album Southern Blood with a stunning image of the man that owes more to Dutch Master painting techniques than cameras. The whole story's right there, the life of a man. Little Feat fans will not be disappointed by his heartfelt version of Willin', and Allman's great friend Jackson Browne helps make an album that stands among his best.

Got Crabs?

After Curt Boettcher's Millennium/Sagittarius projects, Michael Fennelly - and I'm going to pause for a moment here to point out the double-letter possibilities of that handful of names - joined the none-more-Tap Stonehenge (straight outta Sunset Strip), replacing a lead singer who couldn't write songs and couldn't sing. Duh. Fennelly fit right in, excelling at both. The band changed their name to Crabby Appleton, and released a nifty, swell, and bitchin' first album on Elektra in '70, produced by FoamFavorite© Don Gallucci (another double-letter offender). The single Go Back did okay in the charts, they toured with big name bands, and you'd think nothing was wrong with this picture.

But the band didn't feel the album captured their live ability to, er, rock out. Rocking out, AKA kicking ass, was important in the early seventies. So they gave the production of their second album to - a folksinger producer. Right. The result disappointed everybody. Even people who'd never heard of the band were disappointed. Irving Kowznofsky (Pork Bend, Wis.) puts it best: "the band seemed to have lost direction and focus. Some of the album is swell, but there was no single. I never listened to it."

It's worth reflecting - if you're the thoughtful, bookish type - on the covers. That first one is great, and having no text was unusual for Elektra. Everything about it is swell. Like the album. The second - er - features a large photograph of a rotten apple core.

I think I remember a non-album single, but I could be wrong.

New York, Old Ork

The Left Coast gets a lot of coverage here at th' House O' Foam©, and that's because it was - note past tense - the cultural hub of the twentieth century. From the 'thirties through to the back end of the 'seventies, L.A. (and to a lesser extent San Francisco) was the white-hot crucible of the culture known - and often derided - as pop.

But other stuff happened in other places, even in Gotham, and it was shadowy figures like movie fanboy Terry Ork who helped it happen. In spite of his best attempts, he avoided the Factory's icy clutches and set up Ork Records, signing street-buzz names and capturing the crackling neon zeitgeist of punk.

This is a swell compilation of Ork's finest, as essentially Gotham as a Weegee crime scene, before loft culture made Talking Heads and Blondie millionaires.