"Hi! I'm Cody! I'm Executive Outreach Officer here at FalseMemoryFoam©, and Mr III has given me the honor and responsibility of contributing a regular Sunday piece to the blog. Every week, I'll be choosing some music I find entertaining and hope that you do too!
But first, more seriously, I'd like to clear up some confusion about my status here. It seems that some of you have not been paying attention to the comments. Whilst it is true that I recently resigned my position in order to spend more time with my dogs (hi, Snuggles and Poopsie!) I was persuaded to return by popular opinion which Mr III could not ignore. He knows that posts with my picture in them get more page hits than his "funny" posts where he tries to be "funny" and I think he is resentful of this! LOL!
So, without further adieu [yeah, right - Ed.] I am proud to present my first Cody's Casual Sunday! It's an album I really like, called Fifty Hit Dance Hits by the Various Artists. I play it when I do my workouts by the pool, only Mr. III makes me wear earbuds. He's so grouchy! Anyway, that's all from me! See you guys next Sunday! Aaaaand ... keep dancin'!"
From camping it up with The Teddybear's Picnic to becoming heritage music curators on a par with the Smithsonian is quite a leap, but the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band made it. The earliest line-up, in 1965, included Jackson Browne, who bailed for a solo career before the first album. Chris Darrow passed in and out before Uncle Charlie, which was when perseverance (and talent) started to pay off.
It's impossible to overstate these guys' importance, which is strangely counterbalanced by their relative lack of fame.
They'd passed through the core American music genres; jugband, bluegrass, folk, pop, country, blues, rock n' roll, before curating (and for once, the word is used correctly) the epochal Will The Circle Remain Unbroken; that rare thing, a precious historical document that's also a lot of fun. It was a project that was only possible because the NGDB approached Nashville with respect and humility - qualities that have a bearing on their low showbiz presence.
Since then, a little bland AOR, and a slight return to the roots they never left, but here's their early œuvre [French - egg - Ed.], sounding fresh and timeless and fun and beautiful all at the same time.
Oh - and beautiful album artwork, too.
Who knew that UK progrock combos The Caravans, The Soft Machines, and The Pink Floyds were inspired by two obscure US acts to relocate to the sleepy British village of Canterbury and develop a thriving music scene? Not you, that's who.
The Canterbury Music Festival 1968 Rain And Shine album was produced in New York by Foam Favorites© The Tokens, who also contributed the stickier bubblegum songs. It's a swell record, although hard to see how the sunshine pop harmonies influenced The Pink Floyds' acid-trip instrumentals. Although the novelty sitar version of Son Of A Preacherman may have been on Mike Ratledge's jukebox.
Canterbury Fair's organ-dominated sound was clearly the inspiration for The Soft Machines' guitar-free line-up. Or not. In fact, the more I reflect on this connection, the less convinced I become. Never mind. It's a Foam Fact©. These guys were out of Fresno. Because someone had to be.
We're lucky to have TV's Tom Bosley (TV's much-loved Howard Cunningham from the hit comedy TV show Happy Days) on board to guest-host our popular Buyer's Remorse© feature! Yes folks, when inspiration for a blog piece dries up entirely, and our enthusiasm for upping more Byrds and Little Feat is at a low ebb, we fall back on the services of a much-loved TV celebrity to tell us about albums they bought but, like, were remorseful about! Hoo boy! Some fun, huh, gang?
Tom was kind enough to swing by Th' House O' Foam© while in Vegas on (finger-waggle) "business". We relaxed poolside, sipping cocktails served by Cody, who giggled apologies for her informal appearance as her Foamette© uniform was "in the wash".
TB: Holy fucking crap! The ass on that gal!
FMF©: I guess. What albums you brung, Bosforth?
TB: Huh? Oh, right. Albums. Well, we got this, by Bamboo. It's on Elektra! How bad can it be? Answer - pretty damn. I don't have the heart to trash it, though. Could we get another drink?
FMF©: Bamboo is a stinker, somewhat. I don't think I ever played it to the end of side two.
TB: It has a second side? [laughter]
FMF©: Moving on?
TB: Yeah. Picked this puppy up from a Goodwill store, and it nearly exhausted mine, ha ha. I'm a label maven. Anything on Elektra, anything on Ardent. I trust these guys. But Cargoe ... it's okay. Maybe. I don't play it much. At all, really. A lot of people like it. They were hot live. But ... [shrugs]. Can we get Cody back here? With pretzels or something?
FMF©: Is it true that cocaine was the drug of choice on the Happy Days lot?
TB: Did I tell you about the time that Marion and Erin did a le- [tape ends].
These guys were big in the UK provinces back when folk clubs were the places to eye up the local broads, roll herbal smokes in licorice Rizlas, nurse a warm half pint through the entire evening, and enjoy some superlative music.
At the same club - usually above a pub, or in the back room - you'd catch national talents like Bert Jansch on sleeping-in-the-van tours, but it was the core of local acts that kept the places going. Davey Graham's Anji was the gateway party piece for the solo picker, generally drowned out by conversation.
Dando Shaft were different - a full band of virtuoso players, fronted by the comely Polly Bolton, a vocalist of the class of Jacqui McShee, who at least stood up some of the time, unlike the others, who opted for the sedentary Pentangle-style look. Sitting down was a thing for folkies back then, and maybe still is.
They scored a deal with Neon for their first album, moving up to the parent label RCA for their third, Lantaloon, just before the inevitable internal forces split them up. As a bonus, the teeth-gratingly unlistenable Sun Clog Dance, an
ill-advised tilt at commerciality, is not included in this otherwise
worthwhile assemblage. The band reformed sans la Bolton for Kingdom in 1977. I suspect they may have stood up at gigs, too.
