Randy Randomguy's Acid Reflux O' Randomitude! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© - advancing retinal decay since 1923!

It's Saturday! [Eh? - Ed.] And every Saturday Randy Randomguy - the guy who has everything and somewhere to put it - opens up his portal to a non-causal event horizon in lovely [YOUR AREA]. What is your device insisting you listen to in a world where your right to choose is denied? List first five songs! Oboy!

Cheap Stratagems® Dept.

Once again, a request allows me to weasel out of my homework assignment by reprinting an earlier piece. Thank you, John!

The Harder They Come and Catch A Fire were the gateway reggae drugs for many who'd failed to be hooked by ska and rock steady. The Marley album, with its clever Chris Blackwell sweetening, opened up a whole world of music that was at once exotic and yet somehow familiar. It just sounded right. Natural. It made no demands on the listener - you didn't have to get up and dance (if you're listening to ska you're missing the point), you didn't have to analyze the lyrics, struggle with difficult progressions - this was at the height of prog - or do anything other than lie back and let it massage you up. It helped to have an interest in home bakery - in the sense of getting baked at home - but this deep-heat groove got you lightly cooked on its own.

When Culture released the epochal Two Sevens Clash everyone who heard it became an evangelist, if not for its entertainingly eccentric Rastafarianism, then for its transportational power to beam you up. Roots became the favored term, to distinguish the righteous from the cash-in pop party sing-along singles.

Today's Romper Room o' Roots© offers five slabs of original vinyl rootier than a field of hemp, in their rare (-ish - this is the internet) original Jamaican pressings, complete with original crackles and scuffed genius cover art. Culture's Africa Stand Alone, Bunny Wailer's Blackheart Man, Heart Of The Congos, Burning Spear's Marcus Garvey and Studio One Presents. These pressings often differ significantly from later editions, and are guaranteed to impress any swivel-eyed collector scrolling through your digital content. Sigh "I had that on vinyl" in a tone of infinite regret to complete the effect.

Perry Miller's Unexpected Knowledge Of British Race Car Drivers Dept.

In 1964, Perry Miller - a perfectly fine name - assembled his new showbiz I.D. from two outlaw cowboys, Jesse James and Cole Younger, and a British race car driver, Colin Chapman. Which is weird. Perry is one of those guys who can't help but inspire a little good-natured envy. Handsome, gifted with an immediately likeable voice, Perry enjoyed an easy Long Island childhood, half-hearted university studies interrupted and finally terminated by learning to play the music he loved, and folk club gigs in New York leading quickly to a recording contract. Some guys have all the luck.

Here's where it all started; a couple of super-swell solo albums that never get old. A much underrated vocalist, he gives the material the grit it needs, and his picking is accomplished. After these, he devoted himself to The Youngbloods [yay! - Ed.] for a few years before returning to a solo career that's active to this day. Way to go, Perry Miller.

(Don't know about you, but to me the second album, Young Blood, looks like the first. The City Boy cover hasn't dated at all.)

Steve Shark Mansplains Heroin Horror To Kreemé! Dept.

Kreemé [left - Ed.] relaxes surfside with Davey Graham [right - Ed.], yestiddy. ©Foam-O-Graph

Steve Shark parachuted in to th' Isle O' Foam© with some swell screed, but his pictorial attachments were - what's the opposite of clickbait? That. So I axed Kreemé [18 my ass - Ed.] to help out with a celebrity appearance! It's a win-win situation! Th' gals get a platform for their gal-type "issues" - such as like, uh, swimwear - what th' fuck I know what's on their minds? - and us musicologists get a feast o' folk-blues history!

Back in 1971 [scribes Steve - Ed.], when I had hair and a waistline, I was a student at Milton Keynes College of Education – a teacher training college in Bletchley [Kreemé is gone like a train - Ed.]. It was actually in Bletchley Park, which was the home of the WWII codebreaking centre and where they cracked the Enigma machine. The town was also, and still is, where Marshall made their amps, but that's another story...

Some friends and I had decided to form a college FOLK CLUB and for a few months it was just acts drawn from the college students. It all went well, up to a point, mainly courtesy of the cheap bar.

One day, we were sitting thinking about what we could do to give it a bit of a boost and it was obvious we needed a famous folk artist appearing at our fortnightly folk night. In the end, we settled on the idea of having Davey Graham come to play. I can’t remember how we managed to contact his agent, but somehow we did. A cheque was sent off and so DG was booked to play a few weeks later.

The idea was to meet DG at the station – only a five minute walk from the college – and this seemed to be going to plan until Davey stepped off the train with a guitar case seeming a little confused, to say the least.

It was immediately very clear that he was either drunk or stoned, or both.

We were students, so we knew drunk.

We were students, so we knew stoned.

We were students, so we knew drunk and stoned.

However, this was clearly not just booze or marijuana, but something else entirely. By all accounts, I later discovered, he was a heroin addict then, so it was probably smack – something right out of our experience then, but very feasible to me now. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to inspire us with much confidence in the forthcoming evening.

It took about fifteen minutes (not the usual five!) to reach the college and we put him in the Green Room – someone’s bedroom in the student hall of residence.

As showtime grew closer, it became apparent that he was in no fit state to play, so we plied him with water and black coffee, and he seemed to perk up a little and started to tune his guitar. He still didn’t seem right, though. Looking back, perhaps it was cold turkey as we didn't see him take anything pharmaceutical.

The glitz! The glamor! Steve rips it up on stage!

The opening act went on – myself and Paul (the guy who’d eventually be one of the ushers at my wedding and later die from alcoholism) [left - Ed.] – and we played our set of mostly Lindisfarne, Neil Young and Donovan numbers [WHIPPING POST! - Ed.].

Then it was time for the HEADLINE ACT!

DG stumbled onto the stage, spent about 10 minutes retuning his guitar and then started to play.

It wasn’t good.

Through the fluffs, and despite the clams [???? - Ed.], you could hear that he was one hell of a guitarist, but it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

Did I say it wasn’t good?

It was absolutely bloody terrible.

He went on for about four numbers and then we indicated that he should stop, which he did.

We put Davey’s guitar back in its case, got him his coat, walked him back to the station, put him on the next train back to London Euston and returned to the college.

So, it was all one very strange folk night. On one hand, it was a big let down but, on the other, we’d had a genuine folk guitar hero at our own little college! In spite of Davy’s poor performance, we all felt really buzzed about it for days afterwards.

Davey was a master of acoustic guitar – jazz, folk, classical, blues, world...he could play it all. He wrote the standard Anji and was the first in a long line of British folk guitarists who went on to bring instrumental acoustic guitar music to world prominence, and influence players from Bert Jansch to Jimmy Page and beyond. Davey died of lung cancer in 2008.

A couple of albums to accompany this screed. In a handcrafted zip file you'll find Folk, Blues & Beyond, widely considered to be his finest solo album, and After Hours, which was recorded by a student at a college gig in 1967 – fortunately when he was totally compos mentis.

[Ed.]'s Psychedelic Psoundtrack Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© - Wallpaper For The Shrieking Insect Abyss Of The Soul!

Th' IoF© postbag has been bursting with concerned enquiries after [Ed.]'s health and whereabouts! Older readers - that's you, boomerbutt - may remember visiting his Treehouse Of Blessed Forgetfulness™ a while back. Naturally a recluse, [Ed.] has been occupied with creating a hauntingly lifelike diorama of The Diet Of Worms out of chicken fat. But enough history already! What album has been spinning on th' treehouse Victrola as soundtrack to his lofty artistic endeavor?

"Why," laughed [Ed.] [left - Ed.] yestiddy, "which it's Amphetamine Gazelle, a exclusive compilation of all-studio tracks by Mad River what never made it to anal bum! Gee! Is it ever swell! Plus also, it's got this wayyy groovy cover like what you go boss-eyed at while you listen to the sounds! That is, unless you're busy working on a hauntingly lifelike diorama of The Diet Of Worms out of chicken fat!" (laughs)

Sayy, pals, leave us join [Ed.] freakin' out' to this otherwise unavailable FoamExclusive®!

Thanks to the ClamSlam© Corporation for their Non-Fungible Token crowdfunding initiative!

Myra Nussbaum's Rack Is A Mess! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© courtesy Peggy Guggenheim

Uh-oh! Mrs. Myra Nussbaum's rack has been interfered with! Thoughtless bums fingering her goods have misplaced albums in the bargain section! D'oh!

Can you help Myra identify the misplaced albums, subscribers? Some have even been filed the wrong way up! How many can you spot? Why not invite the gang to an album spotting party in your den! Or gather the family around the home computer for a wholesome evening's entertainment! If you're a shut-in with tubes up your nose and ass, ask your carer to solve the furshlugginer puzzle for you! Or perhaps you're on Death Row? Your guard will be pleased to hear the gales of laughter coming from your cell! Maybe you've just been in a terrible freeway pile-up and you're trying to use your blood-smeared phone as your life slips away! Don't waste your time dialling 911 - cheer yourself up with this week's FoamKwiz™!

THESE ARE THE RULES - THE RULES ARE THESE: The rules have changed! Please read the comments right through! Thank you for your participation in what is probably the most mildly amusing album-related puzzle competition featuring an elderly dame in a bikini on the internet right now! At least this bit of it!

Wake Up! It's 1982! Dept.

Chad Finkelhoffer and Shannon Buns pose for 1982 Pork Bend High Yearbook

At the time, I sneered at Duran Duran because they were a stoopid girls' band, and I was a sophisticated-type guy who (obviously) knew better. I convinced myself they weren't real musicians, their lyrics were shit, and the production was plastic and horrible. Listening to the Rio album all these years later, I was so very, very wrong. Maybe the lyrics are a bit shit, but they can play as well as they need to, the production is exactly of its time but exceptionally imaginative, and the songs, written and arranged by the band, are just too damn infectious to resist. A consistently fine and varied piece of work, going out on the atmospheric The Chauffeur, which wouldn't be out of place on a Roxy Music album, unexpected coda and all. And that perfect cover ...

Decades after its release, ABC's Lexicon Of Love is still a lush pop swoon. Cinematic, literate without being pretentious, it's ideal for detailed listening or just throwing shapes to. The cover is appropriately dramatic, elegant, and, with that block of text, just a tad highbrow. Note how this and the Rio cover feature an image bleeding off one side from a dark solid color, and serif fonts. Class. From The Dictionary Of Soul to The Lexicon Of Love maybe isn't so very far ...

Orange Juice's second (!) album from '82, Rip It Up left the twee-core and indie jangle behind, and today sounds utterly timeless. A little crooning, a subtly funky vibe, and state-of-the-art production (unlike their first) make for a hooky, laid-back breeze of an album. The self-consciously artless cover, at once "real" and fake, reflects the band's pose of indie amateurism. That hi-hat!

The Church had to wait until Under The Milky Way for the public to catch up, but in 1982 they quietly released a landmark psychedelic rock album in The Blurred Crusade. The guitars swirl and shimmer, the beat pulses, the lyrics are an opium haze, and Bob Clearmountain's production is as crystalline as the sky over Kanchenjunga. You couldn't dance to it anywhere but in your head. And the cover is ... oh, wow. Of these four albums, this is the one I felt was truly for me, having joined their congregation with the first album, and it's still a rush, after all these years.

Thanks to Altoid for the It Up Rip.

Steve Shark Grapples The Grim Reaper Dept.

In a very real sense, are we not all playing Twister™ with Death©?

Death! [intones Steve Shark - Ed.] Not the cheeriest of subjects, but it comes to us all. Unfortunately, it sometimes comes way too soon and that's the theme of this screed - musicians who left us, and also left us wanting more. I've picked 15 (or have I?) out of thousands and thousands and I've been intrigued by what I found. I never really appreciated the fact that Lowell George, for example, was a mere 34 when he shuffled off this mortal wotnot. OK, I knew he wasn't old, but 34 FFS. That's no age at all...and Fred Sonic Smith - he'd been around forever, surely? [stop calling me Shirley - Ed.]
I've now concluded that our deceased musical heroes somehow remain in our minds, ageing along with us, whilst simultaneously staying as they were when we first got acquainted with them, until we start to look at the numbers and begin to face the facts about their mortality - and ours.
As for how they died...well, there's suicides, ODs, accidents and, inevitably, all that disease stuff, and often accompanied by a good helping of sheer bad luck to hurry some of these along. I'm not going to say how each or any of the below died - I refer you instead to Google, if you're that curious. I'm just going to stick with a brief comment on each track and leave you to fill in any gaps.
The only criteria I've used for my choices is that a) the subject is dead (obvs!) and b) they're under 50 (or are they?). Again, in line with my previous screeds, some of these people you'll know and some you won't. They're all worthy of further exploration and all of them left us some wonderful music.

 

Gratuitous mystery introduction (52)

Courtesy of somebody who didn't make the cut, but only by a couple of years - another shock to me. I'd have said he was way older than that when he died.

 

Kevin Gilbert (29) Last Plane Out (Toy Matinee)

Gilbert's "Toy Matinee" band released one studio album and its lead track is my choice. A dense slab of power pop with great vocals and tricksy production, it's a tale of being one of the last people to leave a war zone, but it seems more apocalyptic to me. Guy Pratt's bass playing is fantastic.

 

Steve Goodman (36) City of New Orleans

An obvious choice, perhaps, so sue me... If you don't know Goodman's original version, you'll certainly be familiar with Arlo Guthrie's earlier cover. This is a little smoother, but it has a certain quality in the vocals that celebrates the whole experience of the journey, whereas Guthrie sounds more wearied by it. 'A list' Nashville Cats all over this one!

 

Eddie Hazel (42) Lompoc Boogie

Yeah...but "Maggot Brain"! OK, this doesn't have the raw pain and sorrow of that track, but Eddie really stretches out here with just a bassist and drummer for company. There's more than a hint of Jimi in this, but also a lot of individual rhythm and lead work that made Hazel one of the finest players to take the Hendrix legacy forward. When he cuts loose with his solos, he just soars. Why Lompoc? Eddie did time there.  

 

Snakefinger (38) Kill the Great Raven

Philip Lithman - ex-Resident, ex-Chilli Willi and the Red Hot Peppers - was a walking encyclopdia of musical genres. Equally at home with Delta blues, cajun, country, electric blues and avant garde rock, Snakefinger cut some very idiosyncratic solo albums, with that quality well in evidence here in a reggae piece - complete with a sort of "Turkish" guitar solo (if it's even guitar!).

 

Danny Gatton (49) Nitpickin'

I first heard this on a Guitar Player magazine flexi-disc (remember those?) and it blew me away with its mix of rockabilly, Les Paul, jazz and blues. Not so much a jack of all trades, as the master of them all, Gatton combined dazzling technique with a willingness to play anything. He often lapsed into "cheesiness" but at his peak and with the right material, he was probably one of the best in the world. Bizarrely and coincidentally, he was going to join Lowell George's post-Feat band but Lowell died a couple of days after issuing the invitation. Lots of WTF??? moments on this track.

 

Phil Lynott (36) Dancin' in the Moonlight (Thin Lizzy)

Thin Lizzy didn't mean a lot in the US, but as well as being a very highly regarded live act in the UK, they also scored some big hits there. Phil had it all: looks, charm, bass chops and a good ear for melodic rock. In "Moonlight" he plays the small-town Lothario to a T and the whole production, with a rare use of saxes, lifts the band firmly out of the "hard rock" bracket. A great pop record!

 

Nick Drake (26) Northern Sky

This was all set to be Drake's breakthrough single, but it never got the promotion it deserved, even though it's one his most highly regarded songs. It's a plea for the light in the darkness that only love can bring. John Cale plays keyboards which create a lovely wash behind the wispiness of Nick's vocals. He's a classic case of being more famous post mortem.

 

Al Wilson (27) Poor Moon (Canned Heat)

The "Blind Owl" was responsible for the high vocals and Hookerish guitar that made many of Canned Heat's tracks so distinctive at the time. Here he sings about how he hopes the Moon isn't trashed when Man colonises it. Very innovative backing vocals and a melody line that contains lots of quirky major key notes. When the band lost Al, along with his highly individual take on the blues, they were never the same again.

  

Ollie Halsall (43) Loud Green Song (Patto)

Going on to play with John Cale, Viv Stanshall, Kevin Ayres, Grimms, Tempest and Boxer, Halsall started playing guitar in Timebox, but really blossomed on the instrument in Patto. This track was recorded in 1972 and shows Ollie letting rip with legato runs and whammy bar tricks (on a Gibson SG FFS) that paved the way for shredders like Eddie Van Halen many years later. He just may be the most influential guitarist that (almost virtually) no one's ever heard of.

 

Charlie Christian (25)

Christian was the first bebop guitarist and the first to play the instrument as if it was a horn, blowing his lines and runs as freely over the band as any sax or trumpet. On this track he's jamming at Minton's Playhouse and tearing his way through several choruses. The recording is 70 years old but still sounds fresh and vital. I love the way he repeats phrases over the chord changes. Monk may be on piano.

 

Steve Marriott (44) Out of the Blue

Small Faces and then Humble Pie...Marriott had his fair share of fame, and his less successful solo career wasn't too shabby, although much of his output was a bit "Stones lite". "Out of the Blue" also features Peter Frampton on vocals and guitar and the track brings out the best in both men, with a meaty but thoughtful production avoiding the balls-out strutty vibe that was too often Marriott's default position.

 

Gene Clark (46) So You Say You Lost Your Baby

A lot of people slagged off this album as being over-produced. Perhaps they were expecting the Byrds, but they didn't listen to how Gene was trying so hard to move on from them. Lovely breezy pop with strings and a touch of psychedelic guitar. The album credits include 3/5 of the original Byrds (including Clark), Clarence White (soon to get his wings) and lots more of those Nashville Cats.

 

(Will) Owsley (44) Oh No, the Radio

After a promising start with power poppers "The Semantics" - whose debut album remained unreleased for 3 years - Owsley went on to become guitarist for Shania Twain and Amy Grant, amongst many others, and did a hell of a lot of session work. His first solo album, catchily entitled "Owsley", is a power pop classic with enough hooks for a party of anglers and sufficient quirkiness to lift it out of the formulaic. "Radio" is well-nigh perfect with great vocals, lyrics and guitar, and a punchy (self) production.

 

Fred Sonic Smith (46) City Slang (Sonic's Rendezvous Band)

Life after the MC5 for Fred began with this single. The band only had enough money to record one track, so a single was pressed with a stereo side and a mono one, although they were both the same mix! There are the usual wonderfully snotty vocals from Fred, and the guitars, bass and drums are all as tight as a gnat's chuff - it's the 70s Detroit rock scene in one track and I love it!

 

Lowell George (34) Rock 'n' Roll Doctor (Little Feat)

"Two degrees in bebop, a PhD in swing"...the first Feat track I heard, and a masterclass in how the spaces between the notes are just as important as the notes themselves. Lowell was a superb singer and slide guitarist, as well as a consummate songwriter, and the Feat were the perfect band to showcase this. Alas, unhappy with the direction in which the band was going, he quit. As I said above, it's very hard to think he was only 34 when he died.

 

Gratuitous bonus track - Bootsy's New Rubber Band - Good Night Eddie

Put together and dedicated to Eddie Hazel by Bootsy, this features Eddie playing some beautifully limpid guitar. Fortunately, Bootsy is still with us!

"Lord, just wait in the midnight when death comes slippin' in your room. You're gonna need somebody on your bond."

Shoes For Industry Dept.

Every rock critic knows The Shoes came from Zion, which is like in Israel. What they don't know is they're actually from Sion, in France. Jim-Bob and DeWayne von Schüe were the sons of Otto von Schüe, direct descendant of the Knights Templar and ninth in line to the Merovingian throne, then occupied by Fish (out of Marillion). The boys were passing the Grail around with Fish when he suggested they form a band. The rest is history.

Let's start at the very beginning - a very good place to start - with Heads Or Tails, which I ain't gots, and youse neither.  Four copies known to exist of this 10", when Fish was still in the band, one of which is buried in the tomb of Adam Weishaupt under the Lincoln Memorial. Westernising their name, they moved to Paris, where they recorded One In Versailles. under the patronage of Hiram, Duc de Clignancourt.

The success of One In Versailles (reaching #1 on the Versailles country chart) led to them being picked up by Black Vinyl Records, owned by reclusive foot fetishists the Barclay Twins. The loaddown is the CD version of Black Vinyl Shoes, which differs slightly from the original vinyl (which I had, fact fans, complete with shoelace sticker!).

Next time, we document the band's move to Elektra, and the discovery of the genome (or G) string in Otto von Schüe's effects.

Judee Sill - Stick-Up Artist, Smack Addict, Hooker, Forger, Jailbird, And Artist

How she found time to put together a couple of albums is a mystery. But she left us something beautiful to remember her by, the crazy, mixed-up kid.

In a world where anyone wearing a stetson and carrying a guitar can call himself an "outlaw", Sill was the real deal, living the life. Tough as nails and soft as a summer morning.

Unlike many albums from troubled artists, Sill's music is mostly honey from the hive. Redemption.

Play Some New! Dept. - Th' Electric Looking Glasses

Gals! Who's your fave 'Leccie? Write us and win a dreamy date!

Y'know, pals, we here at Fabulous False Memory Foam Island© pride ourselves on being "down with the kids" and hip to the latest "happening" sounds! So get ready to be whiplashed right into the twentieth century with Th' Electric Looking Glasses! Yes, the madcap lads from La La Land have rush-released their first long-playing "L.P." record album [last year - Ed.], and man, is it ever groovy! In fact, it's electric! Their lively combination of Top Ten tunefulness and a swingin' party beat means we'll be seeing much, much more of the "Lads Electrical" in the future!

Take an in-depth look at the 'Leccies!*

🎸Arash Mafi likes Chinese food and au-go-go chicks in mini skirts!

🥁 Brent Randall digs drive-in movies and sunset strolls on the beach!

🎸Johnny Toomey enjoys goofin' around on his Honda™ Monkey 125!

🎹 Danny Winebarger likes sharing strawberry Popsicles™ backstage with fans!

Support the band by attending their "electrifying" live concert appearances or buying the three remaining copies of the album!

*I had to make this shit up - information unavailable at time of going to press.

Randolph "Randy" Randomguy's Romper Room O' Randomicity! Dept.

Randolph [left - Ed.] demonstrates stoic acceptance of New Normal - Foam-O-Graph©

It's Saturday! [Friday - Ed.] And what do we do on Saturday? That's right - stampede into the Romper Room O' Randomness like it was Black Friday at Honest Irv's Adult Video's And Sex Toy XXXchange (walk-in's welcome)!

Join in the heady excitement by setting your device of choice to rando shuffle and show everybody the first five to play! No cheating - artificially massaging your playlist to make it more impressive to a bunch of people you've never met may have the opposite effect - and anyway, who gives a flying fuck?

Mother Theresa's Pstained Glass O' Psychedelia! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© - Art For Slobs!™

You'll know the scrotum-faced old weirdo for dressing up as a nun and rubbing starving children's faces in the dirt, but did you know she was also a keen collector of obscure sixties psychedelia? Well, she was, at least for the purposes of this week's Kwiz O' Kwality®, hosted by Rholonne d'Eodoranté [19 my ass - Ed.] in wardrobe malfunction cosplay on account which the real Mother Theresa is in Heaven (or Hell - the same place) sacrificing orphans to sew dainty nethergarments from their flayed skin.

Did you eye the swell stained glass window behind our simulacrum Saint, readers? Chances are you didn't, so take another hinge at th' above Foam-O-Graph© [above - Ed.]. Can you descry, perchance, the album what divinely inspired this sacred architectural fenestration?

Probably not, to be honest. The response of th' Four Or Five Guys© to the challenge of recent Kwizzes O' Kwality® has been lackluster at best. Well, no more Mister Goodbar, youse lazy-assed bums. No more hand-holding. You're on your own with this one, yessiree!

Usual rules apply - anyone mentioning act/album directly will be glommed from th' earthly realm by demons (or angels - the same thing) and cast at the hooves of Mother Theresa, there to acquiesce to her perverse desires for eternity, or until the Dems grow balls, whichever comes first.

The Michael Nesmith Radio Special Special (Dept.)

There's a Grand Prize for the first to add the sleeve notes to the comments!

Wiki tells it thus:

"In 1980, Pacific Arts issued The Michael Nesmith Radio Special to promote Nesmith's latest album Infinite Rider on the Big Dogma. Because Infinite Rider was originally released as a multimedia project, the radio special was designed to increase awareness of Nesmith's audio-visual productions, as well as promote the album.

The radio special comprises segments of an interview with Nesmith intercut with tracks from Infinite Rider. During the interview, Nesmith discusses The Monkees, his first public acknowledgement of his former band since the dedication on his 1970 album, Magnetic South.

As with many of Nesmith's compositions, the title of his songs were often indefinite. When he recorded the radio special, Nesmith had yet to finalize the song titles for Infinite Rider and the alternate track names are listed along with the interview.

Currently, the only copies of The Michael Nesmith Radio Special are available on LP (Pacific Arts #PAC7-1300), which was a limited release and is difficult to find. "

This post made plausible thru th' profligate largesse of our pal jcc - muchachas graniolas, compadore!

Cheap Stratagems® Dept.

The nascent Cheap Stratagems Dept. series will feature selected antecedently FoamFeatured™ FoamFeatures©. The reasons are as many as they are spurious; to ensure passing freeloading grifters don't miss out, to give the nogood bums who just grabbed the links the first time around a chance to heed th' screed (in this case, "one of the most perceptive and sublime pieces of pop criticism ever published"*) but mainly to give me much-needed respite from the sheer lacerating keyboard hell of trying to think of something vaguely fresh every fucking day of the week. It makes sense on another level; most  - 86.3% according to some studies - of the greatest albums ever recorded have already been antecedently FoamFeatured©, and the supply is dwindling, so the Cheap Stratagems® Dept. will artificially lengthen the flowery path to internet oblivion.

These albums, recorded months apart, are generally considered disappointing endings to distinguished pop careers, almost footnotes. Although The Mamas & The Papas' People Like Us received a probably now forgotten boost from Sean O'Hagan a few years back (decades? I've lost count), and enjoys respect from the ever-perceptive Japanese pop community, it still resides in the where-are-they-now category for most. I neglected it for many years for the usual reasons. It limped out on a budget label in the UK (where I was residing at the time), had no hits, and the group were then terminally nothing to nobody. Move on, nothing to see here, right?

Fast-forward to sometime in the late eighties, when I was in Berlin trying to finish a horror movie screenplay for a German independent producer ("the paper plane must fall with more melancholy!!"), an experience as grim as you imagine. But he had interesting taste in music, and one of the albums I pulled from the pile was People Like Us. He didn't rate it highly, laughing mirthlessly at the notion it was a lost classic, but I was hooked, and have remained so. The boilerplate critical dismissal always mentions the back story of a band already broken up, the lack of true ensemble singing, the sidelining of Cass Elliot, and yadda yadda. Color me I don't care. It's a beautiful album, made by people incapable of turning in a cynical performance. Cool as a dawn breeze off the ocean. The only album this group could have made at that time, and reflecting the fractured times with crystal definition. The end of the sixties, dealing with the damage, and the uncertainty of what was to come, yet still managing to enjoy blueberries for breakfast.

Waterbeds In Trinidad was The Association's last album, barely scraping into the Billboard top two hundred. We can assume that the irony of the title in combination with the cover image was lost on most. Irony is never a good marketing hook. But its monochrome nostalgia has something in common with People Like Us, and the music shares that mature melancholy my producer missed in the fall of the paper plane. Again, it's a sheerly beautiful album made by seasoned professionals, and if we consider it a lesser work than, say, Cherish we're doing the band, and ourselves, a grievous mis-service. No more waterbeds in Trinidad for these guys. No more love-ins and dancing in the park. The Age Of Aquarius turned out to be a chill dawn breeze off the ocean, and the sixties were already a dream of a dream.

*Me, just now.

Steve Shark's List Job Dept. - EDIT!

Steve Shark heeds th' need for screed and parachutes in with this neatly-typed think-piece about something-or-other (I don't know - I ain't read it yet - I always go straight for the comments). At left, comely marine biologist Rholonne d'Eodorante [eighteen my ass - Ed.] demonstrates archaic meaning of list!

EDIT: drfeelgoed contributes a swell cover [below left - Ed.]  for the collection!

Lists - love them or hate them, we probably all make them, so here's a list of songs that all include lists. Some you'll know, some you won't!

The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band - The Intro And The Outro
The first thing I ever heard from the Bonzos. It amazes me that I still find it funny - 55 years later - especially "Val Doonican as himself". Horace Bachelor will reappear a couple of years later on "Keynsham" but we will never hear their like again.
                                             
King Crimson - Elephant Talk
The Crims redux with a guitar-heavy line up. This features Adrian Belew singing about talking and making a right brouhaha. I'm in awe of everyone here - Bruford's restraint is inspired, and the bass and guitars mesh beautifully.
                                                                             
The Byrds - Turn! Turn! Turn! - To Everything There Is A Season
Quintessential Byrds - the soaring harmonies and that Rick 12 jangle. For a few albums back then, there was no-one to touch them. Gene Clark's harmony line is truly beautiful.
         
Simon & Garfunkel - At The Zoo
From the stellar "Bookends" album. This started out with lyrics complaining abut Rice Krispies not tasting the same and ended up as a dystopian reply to "Going to the Zoo". Eventually a breakfast cereal got a mention elsewhere on the album. This is the punchier mono mix.
                                                                             
Ry Cooder - 13 Question Method
Originally by Chuck Berry, Cooder's solo acoustic version of this relatively obscure composition has a sly charm all of its own, and the slide guitar playing is up to Ry's usual high standards.

Paolo Nutini - Pencil Full of Lead
A sort of vaudeville feel here, with a list of all the things he's got - but, best of all, his baby. Yes, pencil full of lead is a saucy metaphor. Nutini is possibly the top Scottish solo singer today, but his fame has yet to reach the rest of the world. He's worth checking out - "Pencil" isn't at all typical of his output, although it's great fun!
                                   
Tom Waits - Soldier's Things
Classic Waits - just voice and piano - with a list of a soldier's possessions that have found their way into a car boot or yard sale. Everything is a dollar - even his medals. Perhaps the narrator is the soldier. Not depressing - that will come later in my list - just incredibly sad and poignant.
                                           
John Hiatt - The Way We Make a Broken Heart
A series of lessons detailing how a love affair can hurt the betrayed partner. The twist here is that the lovers know exactly what they're doing, but it's just an inevitable part of the whole situation - collateral damage, as it were. From Hiatt's breakthrough "Borderline" album. Ry Cooder did a great cover, but Roseanne Cash made it into a hit.

Ian Hunter - All-American Alien Boy
Mott the Hoople's Ian 'Unter with a farewell to the UK and a hello to the US. Great bass solo from Jaco Patorius and the whole thing concludes with a list of Native Americans for no good reason that I can see. In between there's a bizarre name check - "I'm an All-American Alien Boy - look out Mary Tyler Moore".        

Divine Comedy - Gin Soaked Boy
A little rockier than Neil Hannon is usually, this is a list of all the things the narrator is, but I'm guessing it's just the gin talking. The Divine Comedy *is* Hannon and worth checking out if you like pop with a more orchestral feel and a fair helping of sarcasm.

Mike Bloomfield - The Altar Song
In which the late great guitarist namechecks a plethora of blues artists over a gospel backing with his slide guitar wailing away. From the classic "If You Love These Blues" album, which is virtually a primer of blues stylings. Bloomfield was so much more than the guitarist with Butterfield and Dylan.

Ella Fitzgerald - These Foolish Things
One of those songs I once assumed was a Berlin or Porter composition - but it's not. It's by Jack Strachey and Eric Maschwitz (who???) and has been covered numerous times - and not always very well. Here's the peerless Ella F, who does things to the melody that bring me out in goosebumps. A list of how trivial things can bring back overwhelming memories.

Bob Dylan - Everything Is Broken
If you can get past his sometimes "individual" voice, the later period Dylan catalogue has some hidden gems. A fairly uptempo rocker with downbeat lyrics, it makes its point well.

Leonard Cohen - Everybody Knows
I've never been a Cohen fan, and I've yet to hear a bleaker and more depressing song by anyone, but it's one of my all time favourites ever, by anybody. It's hard to pick out a favourite line, so I won't. Everything is broken here, too.

John Cooper Clarke - Beasley Street
Punk poet Clarke lists all the things which make up life in an inner city slum street. This poem is over 40 years old but it describes life today for many waiting for trickledown to start...so yes, Cynthia, everything is still fucking broken.

Ian Dury & the Blockheads - Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part 3
Self explanatory - Ian and the chaps list all the things that make them happy, including "being in my nuddy" and "lighting up the chalice". This is the 12" version with all the great guitar stuff. After all the "broken" things above, it's a relief to hear something cheerful!    

The Bonzos - The Intros & Outros
Not the same as the first track! This is recorded off the TV and comes from a children's show called "Do Not Adjust Your Set", which included many future Pythons as well as the Bonzos as regular guests. It segues into something the name of which escapes me. Any ideas, anyone?

Mo' Brummels Dept.

The Beau Brummels are that rare thing - a time travel team on a mission from the past! Arriving stateside by chance in mid-'sixties U.S. ("We were aiming for the Côte d'Azur in the 'twenties and over-shot," laughs Sal Valentino today) the band's garb inspired one onlooker to say "who the fuck you guys think you are? Beau Brummel?", and the name stuck. Immediately forming a band ("because everyone thought we were one already") the resourceful team soon established themselves on the happening West Coast scene, and decided to stay! Their time machine? "We landed in downtown L.A.," remembers Ron Elliot, "and these guys just appeared from the shadows, stripped it right down, and ran off into the night with the parts. I think Ron [Meagher - Ed.] still has a warp valve, but everything else - pffft!"

Even if you're a Beau Brummels fan, the chances are you missed 2013's Continuum, a legit release from the original band with original songs. "And we're wearing our original duds on the cover!" laughed Sal [Valentino - Ed.] yesterday. It's swell!

This post made possible thru' the patronage of Tremelo. Muchachas graniolas, compadore!

It's Tardigrade Tuesday! Dept.

Tardigrade hosts Io'F© teenage beach party, yestiddy!

Every Tuesday we'll be handing over the day's musical choice to a Tardigrade! If your knowledge of these cute n' cuddly creatures is as limited as your knowledge of anything else, here's a fun clip n' keep fact sheet to bring you up to speed!

- Came to Earth seventeen billion years ago thru Dimensional Portal!

- World's oldest living organism - older than oxygen!

- Lives in your eyelids, ass crack!

- Indestructible - can't kill something too small to see!

- Encyclopædic knowledge of popular music!

Today we ask resident Isle O' Foam© tardigrade Irma Kowznofski [one thousand eight hundred my ass - Ed.] to choose her Teen Beach Party album du jour o' th' day! Irma?

IK - Hi guys! Wassup, my dudes? I brung a passel o' albums ideal for teen clambake, weenie roast, hayride, pyjama party! These Motown Chartbusters, vols one thru six, are surefire dancefloor fillers!

Thanks, Irma! Yes, this swell set of discs is sure to get your teen-style party swingin'! And it's at the low, low bitrate you've come to expect from th' IoF© - the bitrate o' th' workin' stiff! Leave us face it, compaderos, nobody at a truly happening party is going to be like, ew! the soundstage is cluttered, with harsh highs and distorted lows crowding indistinct mids! Unless they're creepy gatecrashers from th' Steve Huffman forum! Regliar guys don't give a shit! PAAAAARRRRRTAYYYYYY!

Ann-Margret's Psatanic Pspell O' Psychedelia! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© - Making Reality Obsolete!™

You'll know T.V.'s Ann-Margret as Samantha from hit comedy Th' Addams Family, where she played sinister mage of the Dark Arts, bringing Satanism to suburbia with hilarious consequences! But did you know she's also a keen collector of obscure psychedelic vinyl? Chances are you did, you rascal!

But rubbing shoulders - and worse! - with skeevy record collectors in seedy vinyl emporia isn't for her! Nossir! She summons what she wants directly from the Dark Side with mystic incantation! "It's kinda like ordering from Amazon?" she said yesterday from her coven in leafy downtown Burbank. "Only you're not supporting the King of Darkness. Sure, I have to sacrifice the occasional baby, but it's worth it to get albums like which is featured today!"

Take a hinge at th' above Foam-O-Graph© [above- Ed.] and see if you can descry featured album emerging from fire of forbidden ritual! Leave indication of your psychedelic profficiency in comments with clever allusion, oblique reference! Oboy! Some fun, huh?