Susanna Hoffs' Secret Passion For Pop! Dept.

I swear I've been staring at this for the best part of an hour.

You'll know luscious, pouting Susanna Hoffs from her Oscar-nom performance in Teen Panty Planet, but did you know she's also a "pop "music star?! Turns out Sultry Susie [good grief - Ed.] played guitar(!!) for a "girlie group" back in the 'seventies. Or 'eighties. Whenever. She dropped by th' IoF© yesterday to chat about her "pash for pop"!

FT3 Heyyy! Susikins! Lookin' lu-ush, baby!

SH Uh, okay. I brought some albums with me to share with the Four Or Five Guys©.

FT3 Gee! That's swell! Why don't we stretch out by the pool, smoke a little wee-eed, get comfortable!

SH Anyway. Mark Everett's first album was privately recorded, and he tried to buy back every copy of it, but there's a homemade quality to it I find attractive.

FT3 There's a homemade quality to you I find attractive, baby! Ooh yeah! Lookit them cupcakes!

SH Can you just - move away a little? Like, Des Moines? Anyway, he shortened his name to just E, and released an exquisite pair of albums suffused with a melancholic melodicism that for me have a warmth missing from his later work as the ipso facto leader of Eels, although they are sadly underplayed today.

FT3 I luuuuurve the way you lisp like that! GrrrrRRRROOOOWL! A-WOOOO!!!! Hey - where'd she go? Gee - I guess my manly pheromones overcame her! I get that a lot! Why - she forgot her albums, th' dizzy broad! I'm sure she'll swing back for them when she's fixed her hair and put on some alluring perfume! She'll be like "Ooh! Farq! I forgot my albums! I'll just bend over in front of you and pick them up!" I'll just wait here by the pool with my robe open! Yessir! Oboy! Meanwhile, youse saps listen to the albums!

Kind Of Belew Dept. - Bambi Turns Crimson!

Robert Fripp [left] and Adrian Belew live on stage! ©Foam-O-Graph

Most of the Four Or Five Guys© [hypothesizes Bambi - Ed.] have got records that feature Adrian Belew, but a few of you won’t of course.

Between 78 and 79 he was in Zappa's band, 79 to 80 Bowie's guitar for hire. He played guitar both studio and live with Talking Heads between 80 and 81, so this guy was a player to watch out for. He also did session work on dozens of other big albums.

In 1981 Belew joined Robert Fripp in a ‘new’ King Crimson. I didn’t knowingly hear King Crimson until about 1979, but the track I heard was rather special, 21st Century Schizoid Man from their first album. So wishing to investigate this band I cycled off to my local secondhand record shop to see what they had in. I bought USA a live album from 1974, the last track was Schizoid Man. I got home, played it and to be honest was a bit disappointed, it had a couple of rather soft songs and some weird stuff, but at least I now had Schizoid Man.

KC had split up in 1974 (after the USA album), but fast forward to 1982 and a newly reformed KC were playing at a nearby venue, so me and a couple of friends went along. Again I was slightly disappointed, they played all of their new album (Discipline) that we’d not heard yet, and I believe the track Red from 74. But was this even King Crimson? there was an American(!) fronting the band, not a beard in sight and four very smart haircuts and suits to match…AND they didn’t play Schizoid Man.

Fortunately these experiences and not knowing much about the band didn’t put me off, I grew to love the USA and Discipline albums, bought many others and started to obsess about them, I even picked up the first album eventually and wow, that first album must have fried some minds in 1969 when it came out, and I believe they blew The Stones off the stage at Hyde Park (Brian Jones Memorial Concert - not The Stones finest hour).

So in 1981 KC reformed and the Discipline album is a wonderful way into the ’new’ Adrian Belew era, it’s probably this line-ups best studio album, but plenty of fabulous live and studio albums were released from this era too.

So what loaddown are we getting? I hear you shout. Well an good old fashioned 45minutes of tracks I compiled from the first 3 King Crimson/Belew era albums - but don’t complain if it’s not got Elephant Talk, SteveShark already gave you that in January.  Also a very accessible solo Belew album from 2019, and finally my favourite Laurie Anderson album Mr Heartbreak featuring Belew and a stellar cast of players.

The list of albums he has played on is much bigger than I realised (he’s even on Magic Windows by Herbie Hancock Farq) [*shudder* - Ed.] so I hope these three albums are of interest to some of the guys, and maybe you’ll check out more of his stuff. 

Garden gnome rocks out!

In the attached photo [above - Ed.], probably shot before the ‘new’ KC recorded Discipline, Adrian is wearing a nasty tank-top to protect himself from the English weather. I know Farq used to be fond of a tank-top and cravat combination from his days as a highly-paid catalogue model.

Randy Randomguy's Romper Room O' Randomness! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© "The Alternative Alternative!"

It's Sunday! And regliar visitors to th' Isle O' Foam© will know that means a sickening lurch into Randy's Romper Room® - the forbidden realm of the random, the chaotic, the unforeseen, and the unpredictable!

Simply set your device of choice to shuffle, and list the first five plays! Oboyoboyoboy!

Holier Than Thou

There are two tracks on Houses Of The Holy that you have to make excuses for; The Crunge, and D'Yer Mak'er. "Come on! It's the sound of the band relaxing and having fuh-hun! Does everything have to be serious? Lighten up!"

Ye-eah. Except this is like explaining a joke - you may get it, but you don't laugh. They're B-sides from a band that didn't make singles. The only album they'd make sense on is a box set. But there they are, and we're stuck with them. Or, you know, not.

If you want to hear Houses at its absolute Holiest, uncompromised by ill-advised attempts to make it a comedy album, the yoks have to go. Luckily there a couple of tracks written for the album held back for Physical Graffiti that fit a treat. One is, duh, the title track. That dull thumping sound you hear is my head on my keyboard. Yup, they shelved the title track so they could include their leaden, irritating stylistic imitations of funk and reggae. You like 'em? You think they add variety and lightness of tone? Fine - what you doing here? The other song through our musical Stargate is the acoustic country blues of Black Country Woman, which now leads beautifully into Over The Hills. Don't worry - they'll still be on Physical Graffiti when you play it. But there's just a chance you'll hear them more frequently here, on the album they were meant for.

Replacing the pastiches of black music genres the band was incapable of playing straight with a couple of polished jewels changes the whole tenor of the album, from an unsatisfactory compromise to a totally credible follow-up to IV. A little darker, a little stranger, and a whole lot stronger. This is what we pay them for, not fucking around in the studio.

Cover notes: I read somewhere that the original gatefold images were intended to be montaged together, but were left separate to cover both inner and outer sleeves. So here's what that would have looked like - a natural fit. Like it's what they always had in mind. Amazing! The perspective and scale, and the attitude of the figures, locks together as seamlessly as the revised track order. The beautiful typography - missing from the original - is from the later, censored release. Even if you have *cough* ethical qualms about desecrating a priceless cultural artefact by shuffling tracks, you can use this image for your digital player. Because it's a huge improvement, not least in the way it shifts the focus to the house on the hill.

So let me take you, take you to the movie
Can I take you, baby, to the show?
Why don't you let me be yours ever truly?
Can I make your garden grow?
You know that's right ...

Sitarswami Plunges Into The Unsavory Underworld Of The Avant-Garde Dept.

My gateway (screeds Sitarswami - Ed.) into the heady, unsavory, sometimes discordant underworld of the avant-garde was The Chrome-Plated Megaphone of Destiny. Using that as a touchstone, let’s examine the bona fides of three other late 60’s exhibits. Three similar, yet singular, attempts to integrate electronics and musique concrète into a three-minute rock song. But rather than re-reading In the Penal Colony, consider what follows, listen, and form your own opinions.

The United States of America – self titled (1968). Headed by Joseph Byrd who studied with John Cage in NYC in the early 1960’s, the United States of America was a group of non-rock musicians that Byrd gathered from his avant-garde NY days and his academic and performance circles in Los Angeles. Recorded in LA, the album garnered a major label release on Columbia, consequently benefiting from a decent recording budget (including producer David Rubinson -- whose credits include Moby Grape and Herbie Hancock’s Mwandishi, Sextant & Headhunters) and a quality studio.  Reportedly, the sessions were marred by recurring clashes between Byrd and Rubinson. Compounding the drama was the presence of singer/instrumentalist Dorothy Moskowitz, an integral component of the band but a former girlfriend of both Byrd & Rubinson. Byrd, often described as “difficult to work with,” also disagreed with Columbia’s art dept. regarding the cover art. Byrd wanted a plain brown cover with the group’s name stamped across the front. Columbia agreed to use his design (on the original pressing) as wrapping paper over their cover artwork – similar to later releases by Led Zep and XTC. A rushed second album, The American Metaphysical Circus, was issued the next year on Columbia Masterworks as by Joe Byrd & the Field Hippies. It sold better than the USA lp, and the first three songs build upon the promise of that record, but the spark dissipates quickly thereafter. Byrd drifted into occasional film/tv work -- one highlight being the sound/voices of the miniature drones that man the agricultural starship in Douglas Trumbull’s Silent Running. In the mid-70’s Byrd recorded two smaller “historical” albums for Takoma and produced Ry Cooder’s Jazz. While the USA album was being recorded Byrd arranged Phil Ochs’ The Crucifixion, notable for its everything but the kitchen sink (and regrettably, no sitar) instrumentation and is included as a bonus track.

The Fifty Foot Hose – Cauldron (1967). Issued on Limelight (a jazz and contemporary classical label that would soon release Pierre Henry’s mind-numbing adventure Le Voyage, and speaking of Henry, my only recommendation for Ceremony, his rock meets electronics collaboration with Spooky Tooth, is to avoid it) and manned by Cork Marcheschi. He was a sculptor, a Varèse and Cage devotee who also played bass with The Ethix, a local Bay area r&b band. On a one-night stand side gig he met guitarist David Blossom.  The two of them, plus Blossom’s vocalist wife, Nancy, fashioned the FFH soundscapes produced by Dan Healy (one of the Grateful Dead’s chief soundmen) and recorded at Columbia studios in San Francisco. By 1969, Marcheschi had refocused his sights on visual art, while the others, in a time-honored late-60’s tradition, joined a production of Hair.  The Ethix’ last gasp had been an improvised, cacophonous tract recorded in Cork’s parents’ basement. Sounding eerily like the caterwauling experimental ravings of Joseph Byrd acquaintance and fellow ex-Cage student, Yoko Ono, Bad Trip was released as a 45 but recorded at 33 rpm. According to an abandoned website found while browsing incognito, the 33 rpm recording was sped up purposely before the mastering. The 45’s label didn’t specify a playing speed so the song, aptly titled by the record company’s owner, was intended to be played back at either 45 or 33 – both versions are included as bonus tracks, as are two of the demos which earned FFH their record deal.

Spoils of War – self titled (1968-69) Formed by James Cuomo, another Cage admirer, as a University of Illinois (at Champaign/Urbana) graduate student, and guitarist Al Ierardi. The group’s name is taken from a musical instrument invented by Harry Partch from spent artillery shells. Using a band member’s studio, Cuomo recorded a reel-to-reel audition tape used to secure gigs, and a self-pressed ep to be sold at local concerts. These were not officially released until 1999 by Shadoks records – a label that specialized in rare psychedelia. The album sported stunning artwork, by Malcolm Smith, lifted from the June 1954 publication of Imagination (a cover illustration for Slaves to the Metal Horde) and, not surprisingly, somewhat lo-fi production values. Shadoks later released a two-lp set also titled The Spoils of War which contained one album’s worth of live extended Spoils and a second record of post-War NY sessions consisting of shorter pieces sung by the marvelous Annie “The Hat” Williams. Cuomo moved to Paris in 1970 where he founded the group Mormos (which included Annie the Hat) who recorded two albums for CBS/France. The first, the sumptuous, yet spare, Great Wall of China features a few re-imagined versions of earlier Spoilsongs. In the early 1980’s, Cuomo recorded with Viv Stanshall, eventually becoming his musical director.

Harpophonics

Harpo Harpo this is the angel
and where did you get that sound so fine?
Harpo Harpo we gotta hear it, ooh ooh one more time
Harpo Harpo we're in the galaxies
and where did you get that sound so fine
Harpo Harpo we gotta hear it, ooh ooh one more time

When Harpo Played His Harp Jonathan Richman

On his second album, Harpo (I can't find the first, Harpo By Harpo), Harpo plays a literate selection of standards with the Freddy Katz Orchestra (me neither). The two elements you might expect - comedy and schmaltz - are nowhere in evidence. It's a work of art, sophisticated and meditative. The Third Stream jazz setting is highly unusual, imaginative, and intimately recorded. It really is like nothing else. And it really is beautiful.

The arrangements for his third, Harpo At Work, are uncredited, but the wider orchestration - including an unnecessary string section, reed solos, and wordless vocals - obscures his playing. The spare and open sound of Harpo is lost, and makes the great man harder to hear, putting him both at a distance and the mercy of cliché.

But Harpo deserves a much wider audience, and respect rather than condescension, no matter how loving. If you can, ignore the associations of his name, and that wildly inappropriate cover, to discover a surprising 20th century classic.

Lotus Land

Kenny and Cecil share a narcosis in this unusually sensitive Foam-O-Graph©

Steve Shark files screed from his dirigible high above Xanadu!

It must be amazing [avers Steve Shark - Ed.] to be remembered for creating a piece of music that's lasted for decades. However, I wonder what it's like if you've written lots of pieces but everyone keeps referring back to "that" one piece? I wonder if you just get sick of it?

Anyway here's the deal - two people from the world of music, together covering almost a century and a half with some considerable overlap, and both somewhat dogged by "that" one song. In this case it's two different songs, but roughly halfway through that swathe of time they met - sort of - in one stunning piece of music.

First up, jazz guitarist Kenny Burrell. Still a citizen of this planet and in his tenth decade, he's recorded over a hundred albums and played sessions on many, many more. "That" song for Kenny is a bluesy piece called Chitlins Con Carne covered by not only jazzers, such as Horace Silver and Big John Patton, but also blues guitarists like Buddy Guy and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Burrell composed it, so I hope he gets the royalities - although that's not a foregone conclusion in the music bizness.

Our other subject is Cyril Scott, who is an almost certainly less familiar name. Scott was a British classical composer, writer, furniture maker and occultist, born in 1879, and creator of some really very unusual music that sounds way ahead of its time. In his case, "that" song is a piece called Lotus Land. Written for solo piano, in 1905, it has startling clashes of notes and very elastic timing, although it's certainly not formless or particularly difficult to listen to. Smith eventually got bored being asked to perform it in his recitals and a later recording reveals him almost tossing it away. An earlier piano roll version, made by him in 1926, is far more studied and dynamic.

So, how do these two gentlemen eventually meet?

Well, in 1965, Burrell cut an album (on Verve, natch!) using both electric and classical guitar called Guitar Forms, which also had some tracks orchestrated by Gil Evans. Taking up over nine minutes of the album is Scott's Lotus Land with Burrell on nylon strung guitar and a superbly atmospheric arrangement by Evans. It builds rather like Ravel's Bolero, but it's far less uplifting and seems to portray the mythical Lotus Land as almost nightmarishly numbing to the emotions, as well as the senses. It's a truly remarkable track which is hauntingly beautiful, but also rather creepy. The rattling tambourine, chattering wood block and relentless snare drum give it a hypnotic and propulsive inevitability, even as it fades away with keening brass lines. If it didn't fade away, you just know that it'd stretch on for ever and ever...

Scott died in 1970 - five years after Burrell recorded his most famous composition. I wonder if he ever heard what Evans and Burrell had done to it? I wonder if he might have come to love it again?

Anyway, see what you think - there's a link in the comments to the whole Guitar Forms album: a good mix of classical and electric guitar in both small group and orchestral settings. And check out Scott's original piano roll version in the YouTube clip below:

All The News You Need Dept.

Don't give up the day job, Joe!

Did I dream Weather Report? This was a major, major band. Jazzbo cred out th' ass and a big hit single - who else could claim that? Yet the impression I get out here, in this ancient, rambling house high above the rushing waters of the Mekong River, is they never existed. They haven't left the cultural footprint [do you mean influential? Why not just say influential? - Ed.] of a Davis [Miles - Ed.], or a Herbie, or a John McLaughlin. Here's my theory: their line-up shifted continuously, so they never branded themselves in their audience's consciousness in the way a rock group can. Joe Zawinul isn't the most visually exciting frontman, either, even with his sexy knit hat and 'tache combo. He might as well have been making sandwiches for all the visual impact he made, and the rest - unless you're a jazzbo - are a blur. Over three hundred musicians played under the Weather Report umbrella. Okay, that figure's necessarily approximate because I made it up, but at the very least it serves to back up my theory. Someone who finds it a stretch naming all of Simon & Garfunkel is going to take a pass on Weather Report.

Yep, I blame Zawinul. Here's some albums. Gee, are they ever fantastic.

Cagefight Saturday! Dept. - Counts Basie And Five

Foam-O-Graph© - Your Fork In A World Of Soup!

It's Saturday! [uh ... Ed.] And what does that mean, subscribers? That's right - it's Cagefight Time! [synth theme by Flock Of Seagulls, ironic cheers] This week it's strictly "gloves off" as we pit heavyweight swinger Count Basie against one-hit wonders The Count Five! Who'll be "out for the count"? Why, that's for you to decide! One thing you can "count" on [please make it stop - Ed.] is some swell music!

Will the plucky punks from San Jose beat the seasoned slugger from Red Bank? Make your vote "count" by placing your bet in the comments! The contender with the most votes not only garners the coveted Veeblefetzer Trophy being held aloft by leggy lovely Rholonne Deodoranté [above - Ed.] but a cheap-ass loaddown of their long-playing L.P. rekkid! Oh boy!

This post made possible thru sponsorship from Veeblefetzer Industries, Pork Bend, WIS.

T.V.'s Bat Masterson's Modern Classics Dept. - The Erotic Orchestra

Genuine Foam-O-Graph© - accept no substitute!

You'll know T.V.'s Bat Masterson from The Gene Barry Show, where he played a suave dandy in the days of the Old West. "He wore a cane and a Derby hat, they called him Bat," went the memorable and sartorially improbable theme song. But did you know Mr. Masterson is something of an authority on prog-style modern music? He waxed loquacious anent his passion from his suite at the Happyland Hotel And Lube Bay, Hackensack, N.J.

FT3 Yo! Batman! Wassup, my dude!

BM Howdy! T.V.'s Bat Masterson here!

FT3 Right! Which you gots a album to share wit' th' Four Or Five Guys©!

BM I certainly do, Farq! It's The Erotic Orchestra!

FT3 You sure about that? On the cover it says-

BM Yes, yes, but this amusing play on words will get you more page hits and prevent the artiste from finding his work here! His wikipedia page is one of the sketchiest I've seen. Obviously self-penned, the discography is padded to the point of absurdity. He also claims to have toured and recorded with Zappa, but I can find no corroboration for that.

FT3 I like the bit where he mentions being "awarded" a U.S. patent for for his invention of a sponge storage and disinfecting device. What's the album like?

BM It's some kind of achievement, for sure. Eddie Jobson plays violin, and Ruth Underwood percusses, among the thirty-odd occasional contributors to the album. But calling it an "orchestra" is a stretch. It's mostly Jason on keys and vox. Mellotron is always good, though.

FT3 Well, thanks for the share, Batster! Would you like to sing your song for us before I let you go?

BM Surely!

Knitting Pattern Guy™ Chooses This Week's Electronicals! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© - Ground Zero For Taste!

There's nothing Knitting Pattern Guy™ enjoys more than scarfing back a fistful of psychotropics and temporarily obliterating his meatbag self! In what promises to be a popliar FoamFeature®, K.P.G. will every week present his Electronicals Soundtrack to the fractal fringe of the fun zone!

"That's right, Farq!" enthused K.P.G. yestiddy at th' IoF©'s state-o'-th'-art Sensory Deprivation Chamber [above - Ed.], "This week I'm popping my synapses to Pitch Black!"

For those unfamiliar with the duo, Pitch Black is Jerry Kasenetz and Jeff Katz, famed "Bubblegum" music pioneers. "Pitch Black was like this side project?" uptalks Jerry today. "We were way ahead of the curve with that one!" laughs Jeff. "We were getting hits as The 1910 Fruitgum Company as part of our Berklee doctorate and recording as Pitch Black at night, in the same studio! Crazy times!"

Antecedently FoamFeatured®, Knitting Pattern Guy's timely choice allows a more comprehensive loadup of the Dynamic Duo's innovative work!

Frank Zappa Sucks Teats On Rotting Underbelly Of Pop Dept.

Shake them tatas for daddy, baby!

Old School Zappa fans - there is no other kind - tend to either forgive the Turtles Of Invention period or skate right by into the (*cough*) grown-up music of Waka Jawaka and beyond. Some go so far as to claim the Flo n' Eddie years are a creative high point; we can only back slowly away from these people, avoiding eye contact.

Weasels Ripped My Flesh, although stitched together from various sources in Zappa's already time-honored tradition, showed a fatal lack of direction in its scattershot, scruffy approach. There's no attempt at the cohesion that made Burnt Weeny Sandwich and Uncle Meat so successful; it's a mess, and you can love it for that if you find that kind of thing loveable. The title track, two minutes of chaotic noise, may have been fun in performance but on record sounds like Frank telling us he has nothing to say any more, and he's going to say it as loud as he can and incidentally, fuck you.

Enter the Twin Tubs O' Lard™ from The Turtles, a band which ambiguously flirted with satirical humor to atone for their sublime Bonner & Gordon chart hits. You got more than a snicker out of Battle Of The Bands? Kudos, lonely person! After sacking The Mothers (to be fair, they'd gone as far as they could together) Zappa, eager for a niche, or a hit, or anything, saw the market potential for infantile sniggering and fat-boy falsetto that others had missed. Chunga's Revenge was as fucked up as Weasels, only with added Flo n' Eddie as the sickly icing on a cake left out in the rain. Lyrically, it reiterates themes he'd already explored, to much lesser effect, because he was either stuck in the studio or stuck on stage or stuck in a motel room. He was just stuck. He'd turned his back on the commercial and artistic success of Hot Rats, which seemed to work for everybody on every level, and rather than do the unthinkable and just take that well-earned break, insisted on non-stop touring and shitting out albums because he's a workaholic, and he had nobody close with the authority to tell him to stop, please stop, Frank! In the name of all that is holy! Four albums, and one of the least watchable movies ever made - right up there with Let It Be - in eighteen months. It's quite the achievement.

The nadir of this period is the unforgivable Magdalena, from Just Another Band From L.A.. Zappa had already, uh, touched on pedophile incest in the effectively funny, bitter, and angry Brown Shoes Don't Make It. There he - just - gets away with it because it's part of a satiric portrait of a hypocritical upstanding member of the community, and the most graphic it gets is "Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup and strap her on again ..." In Magdalena, an audibly sweating mutant Turtle recounts in beady-eyed pornographic detail sexually assaulting his daughter. But as it's all in his imagination, it's okay, right? Satire, right? Come on! It's a j-o-k-e!

It wasn't only Magdalena that forced us to examine the limits of our hypocrisy, or whatever it was Zappa thought he was doing. Shove It Right In and other immortal compositions from this fertile period described life on the road with relentlessly unfunny ugliness. But there's an audience for that. He made millions of people exorbitantly happy during the full two years of Turtle wax.

Frank dragged his snoot out of the sewer with Waka Jawaka, but the temptation to roll in the sleaze would return, and never really went away. Zappa's problem, after that incredible burst of creativity ending with Hot Rats, was always with the lyrics. He had nothing left to say. Nothing insightful, anyway. No longer an active participant in the outside world - he'd been a key player in L.A.'s freak scene - he covered up for lack of connection with lame pastiche of stuff he'd heard on the radio, or in-joke gibberish, which critics admire for its dadaist surrealism, or its surrealist dadaism. I enjoyed Ben Watson's granular analysis in The Dialectics Of Poodle Play, but Ben's basically a nut.

Zappa was capable of true beauty, but always hedged his bets, not wanting to appear sentimental and weak. Much of his orchestral composition is gorgeous - shafts of light illuminating the overflowing toilet of 200 Motels. In Watermelon In Easter Hay he laid down one of the most lyrical, moving, and achingly beautiful solos ever recorded. And on the same album (if memory serves) described being anally raped with a domestic appliance.

Rock intellectuals like to stress that all of Zappa's music is one Great Work - the "project/object", if you will - and you have to see the Big Picture, which is fine in theory but breaks down if it means spending time with Magdalena. The Big Picture; the rancid ugliness as well as the beauty and the stoopid snork humor and the instrumental virtuosity and the many beautiful songs interpreted by singers the world over and whistled by urchins in the street. Maybe not the many beautiful songs interpreted by singers the world over and whistled by urchins in the street. Maybe not even one actual song, unstained by irony or his insane urge to fuck shit up.

That would have been nice. Just one song, with emotive and sincere lyrics sung from his heart and a melody that didn't trip over itself. His efforts to avoid that during a thirty year career of sneer were astonishingly elaborate, but ultimately successful.

(Don't worry if you didn't get through this - I didn't either.)

Someone Messed With Mrs. Myra Nussbaum's Rack! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© - Flattening the Dunning-Kueger Curve since 1971!

Uh-oh! Some heedless customers have mis-filed nine albums in the racks at Mrs. Myra Nussbaum's Vinly Collectible's™ store in downtown Pork Bend, WIS.!

Can you identify them, subscribers? Simply name as many as you can in comments to win this week's Grand Prize! Don't state which rack they're in, just name artist, album! Could it be any easier?! Why, yes, I suppose it could, but then it wouldn't be as much fun! Or even any fun! Or even a game! What are you - a party-pooper?

Sayyy - why not put out dainty snacks, zesty beverages, invite gang for album-spotting tourney? Imagine pals' pallid, sunken faces glowing with wholesome enjoyment as they realise they've wasted entire life in record stores! Gee, is it ever swell!

Remember - albums stuffed in Myra's rack any old whichway! Upside-down, whatever!

1969 Wasn't A Good Year For Cher

Guess the address and win a prize!

In 1969 (scribes Steve Shark), Cher's relationship with Sonny Bono was becoming strained, the counter culture demographic rejected them as being too unhip with their anti-drug and pro-monogamy position, their record label dropped the duo, Cher's label dropped her, and they ended up owing the taxman the equivalent of $1.5 million today after a failed movie venture.

Fortunately, in the middle of all this, Cher managed to snag a record deal with the label that dropped her and Sonny - ATCO. The couple's management saw this as a way of rekindling interest in the duo. However, the album was poorly received by the public, although the critics liked it, and she never cut another album for ATCO. Sonny didn't like it either - probably because Sonny wasn't involved...

In the end, it was variety television and cabaret that kept their careers going, with Cher as the smart and feisty wisecracking singer and Sonny as the butt of her jokes. Some renewed recording success eventually followed, but by 1977, the duo had broken up - professionally and personally.

The point of all this? That 1969 ATCO Cher solo album - 3614 Jackson Highway. Named after the first Muscle Shoals Sound studio and featuring its founders and house band, Barry Beckett, Roger Hawkins, Jimmy Johnson and David Hood, amongst others, it was the first album recorded there, although the band had been on many hits already. Later in 1969, the Stones would visit and record some of the "Sticky Fingers" album, achieving rather more success than Cher. The Muscle Shoals story is a fascinating one in its own right.

I'm not going to say much about the album - if you like early Cher and/or Atlantic type soul, then there's a fair chance you'll enjoy it as much as I do.

To hear the album the way it was originally intended, play the first 6 tracks, wait 5 seconds and then play the next 5 tracks. This will give you the "vinyl experience". It's a short album - 33 minutes, 11 tracks and it's job done. You may want to repeat the process.

There's a great choice of material, including the best ever cover by anyone of Dylan's I Threw It All Away, a radical revamp of For What It's Worth with a lovely dobro part and a smouldering version of Do Right Woman, Do Right Man with some great piano from Barry Beckett.

I think it's the best thing she ever did - 11 well-chosen songs, her voice was strong and confident, the session players were top notch and it was produced by Jerry Wexler, Tom Dowd and Arif Mardin.

It reached the dizzy heights of #160 in the US charts...

Noam Chomsky's Arena Rock Round-Up! Dept.

Noam, screengrabbed during Zoom™ call yestiddy!

You'll know Noam from his award-winning work for the Bumfight Foundation Trust®, which sponsors boxing competitions for the homeless, but did you know he's also something of an Arena Rock maven? Noam brought us up to speed in a Zoom™ call yestiddy!

FT3 Yo, Noamster! Lookin' buff, my man! Wassup?

NC Good day to you, sir! Can you see me?

FT3 Loud and clear, Noamie! Hey - what's wit' that album which you're desirous of sharing wit' th' Four Or Five Guys©??

NC Ah! This is Mr. Richard - Rick, as I believe he prefers to be known - Derringer's first solo album, All American Boy. I've been what the young people call a "fan" of his work since the McCoys, but I'm particularly fond of this solo album, for its winning combination of rhythmic urgency and melodic adroitness. It is my firm conviction that we may discern within its grooves the genesis of what came to be known as Arena Rock.

FT3 I think most guys would have you down as a Beethoven-type dude. Maybe Stephen Sondheim. Rick Derringer?

NC Oh, he's woefully undervalued, as a composer, musician, and memetic paradigm of popular Western culture at what might be termed its Babylonian zenith. Plus, he could rock out.

FT3  (glances at wristwatch) Well, thank you for taking time out from your work with the homeless bums to share this with us, Chomster!

NC My pleasure, sir! This is an extra tracks version, with an alternate and in my view much improved cover. Oh - do extend my warmest regards to Kreemé. [shewn relaxing poolside yestiddy, left - Ed.]

FT3 Uh - okay. I guess.

NC Could I perhaps contact her via you? I have some-

FT3 You're breaking up! BZZZZRRRRRT!

Support the work of the Bumfight Foundation Trust™ by sending me money - used, non-sequential low denomination U.S. currency please. No singles.

Kurse O' Th' Kaftan Dept. - The Staccatos/Five Man Electrical Band

Older readers may remember our Pulitzer nom series Kurse O' Th' Kaftan®, which Noam Chomsky was kind enough to describe as "delightful ... at once wryly humorous, insightful, and strangely elegiac" in his Blogwatch column for the New York Review. The series traced the devious stratagems employed by flower power bands to distance themselves from the love beads and headbands at the end of the 'sixties, and it's my pleasure to continue the much-loved FoamFeature™ with this timely and provocative piece on The Staccatos, out of Canadia, who morphed into Five Man Electrical Band.

The Stacks, as they were known to the Lumberjack n' Mountie diaspora, released a number of singles and a debut album which gained some traction in the snow-girt timberlands of Canadia, but failed to make any impact anywhere they had record stores. A planned second album, for Capitol, Catch The Love Parade, had already missed the parade and was scrapped by the time the band changed their name to Five Man Electrical Band. Fabulous False Memory Foam Island© is pleased to offer it as a FoamExclusive™,  for the first time anywhere, together with the original cover art! Oboy!

The eponymous second album for Capitol [left - Ed.] also failed to make them the household name they should have been anywhere the household wasn't a log cabin with the family moose tied up outside. Maybe they couldn't afford the bus to California, maybe they couldn't get the shots, but staying in Canadia didn't do them any favors, career-wise. They were making top-tier sunshine pop with superlative songwriting and beautiful layered production, topped with stunning harmonies, in a country whose West Coast boasts the only permanently frozen surf in the world.

So anyway, the next album, '71's Goodbyes And Butterflies [left - Ed.] gave them, and new label Polydor, a much-deserved big hit single in Signs, with a move to a heavier, rock-credible style they amped up for Coming Of Age in '73. They're fine straight-ahead rock albums, but lack the cloudless sunshine happiness of the earlier recordings. And the striped hipster pants.

(Incidentally, if you can tell me what that is on the cover of Goodbyes & Butterflies, I'll be grateful.)

Herbie Goes Bananas! Dept.

Herbie Hancock's disco years are best forgotten. In fact - we forgot 'em awready! But there's some swell albums post-Headhunters and pre-electronica that tend to get overlooked, so we're underlooking them here, and brother, are they ever grand! We'll disregard his parallel "serious jazz" releases because they're boring.

Secrets ramps down a little after the sublime Man-Child (here), eyeing disco warily ('76 was arguably Peak Disco?). It's almost effortlessly gorgeous. Maybe he's coasting a little, but it's a pleasure to coast along. Ideal Isle O' Foam© surfside audio for that mind vacation you've been promising yourself!

While there are struts toward the dancefloor in the funk-pulse grooves of '77's Sunlight, it came wrapped in a Mister Disco Plays The Hits cover [not shewn - Ed.] that looks almost parodic today, designed - and I use the word in a newly ironic sense - by the idiot responsible for the terrible Man-Child cover. Well, fuck him. At no extra cost, we're supplying this here revamped design [left - Ed.] you'll be proud to shew your lowlife pals. 

Caveat griftor: some vocoder content.

Cowering in the shadows of the glitter ball, with its hands over its ears, is Mr. Hands, a lost gem of an album from 1980. It's the first time Herb used a computer to create music, but the music is warm, eclectic (yes, there are disco beats but also acoustic jazz piano), and delivers the tasteful sophistication we expect from the Hancock brand. Varied line-ups don't compromise the overall integrity of the album's sound. What's that cover about? Nobody knows.

After this, you'd of thunk he'd of - but no. Back to the sateen flares for another three years of ballsaching dancefloor fillers that nobody noticed even if they were strutting their stuff to them. 

We'd have to wait until '83 for th' Herbster to bury his chest medallion in the sock drawer and re-invent his bad self with Future Shock, but these here three albums (plus the peripheral and strangely sterile Direct Step, included as a bonus in the loaddown) show his considerable disco output as nothing but a shameful cash-grab he should have avoided, and surely didn't need. Yes, the piano trio carried on regardless, producing cookie-cutter jazz noodling to placate the beret-wearing hep-cats, but the amount of fucks I don't give about them would block the Suez Canal without going sideways. While in no way threatening the sublime Headhunters trilogy (yes, I know about Flood), these albums make for swell headphone listening when unexpected guests drop by with their insufferable kids.

Lou's So Free Right Now

This was made available on iTunes at the end of last year, either for "thirty minutes" or "a couple of days", as a copyright extension exercise. Maybe they thought nobody would notice, maybe they don't care that much - it's all about them - the lawyers, the music business. But of course some eagle-eyed music maven grabbed it, and it's extending its copyright right across the internet even as we speak, even as far as th' Isle O' Foam©. Free at last!

Thanks to all the links in the chain, whoever you are.