Tire Tracks Across Your Bedroom Floor

“Refrigerator Door,” The Human Switchboard from Who’s Landing In My Hangar? (Faulty Products, Inc. 1981. COPE 1)

Mark 347

Human Switchboard Who’s Landing In My Hangar? LP (Faulty Products, 1981)

When I was approached, snuck up on, blindsided, to add to the internoise for this blog, I was lured by the idea of writing about any music I chose, saying whatever I thought or felt and foisting some obsessions upon whoever stumbled, by their filthy little index fingers across the screen. It sounded fun. It’s not. It’s a duty, now, for the future. As DEVO so succinctly put it, “Freedom of choice is what you got. Freedom from choice, is what you want.” So much music, so many forgotten LPs, so many Artists and waaaaaaay too many people writing about it all. What’s true, what’s false and who gives a fuck, anyway? I’m talking to myself at a computer. I’d rather talk to a stranger at a bar about what’s on the jukebox. I’d rather turn off the computer and put a record on. I’d rather a lot of things. But they’re not on vinyl. Too bad this isn’t about The Psychedelic Furs’ Talk Talk Talk. Too bad I take everything so seriously.

There’s something about staying mystified, believing in possibilities and head-scratching philosophizing that appeals to the tiniest clump of optimism I still own. That translates into a Great Leveler that will set my skeleton back on its hinges and yours in the ground, but still, take optimism where you find it. It’s a childhood thing, Santa Claus or Jesus being obvious examples. An old soul once told me that he loved guitar playing, blown away by the focus of fingers dancing on a fretboard, so he learned to play the guitar. He regretted it to the point of ruination. He learned the magician’s tricks, could duplicate them and the Magick was gone. He wished he stayed mystified, enjoying the sound without following the cables through the effects pedal case, and back to the amplifier. I got his point and empathized. (It’s what I do. The vicarious double-life always affords some new kind of kick.) Alas and alack, finding out is a many-edged sword. (Please pronounce the “w” – it sounds more swashbuckly.) So, now you know. Now what, smarty-pants? His interest in the guitar was shattered rather than encouraged and that was that. The world didn’t need another guitar hero, anyway. He became the next best thing, a librarian.

I understood and learned from his experience, even if only through self-recognition. My own exploration indicated that I never wanted to do anything a million other people did or could do better. Of course, with eating, fucking, sleeping, shitting and dying, all bets are off. Nobody really knows of our private ritualistic successes and that keeps individuality an acceptable delusion. If I have a goal in life, it’s to do ONE thing no one else did. A stunning artwork, a love letter to myself, forgiving all and encouraging everything. An ideal for living. I’m running out of time, but not dead yet. Trouble is, I can think things through to the pointy point of pointlessness. Probably why I’m not a writer, artist, musician, filmmaker or serial killer. I’m a fuckin’ dilettante, a Luddite and the only thing I’ll ever do that no one else can is to be my annoying self.

“If you’re going to do something, do it well and leave something witchy behind so the world will know you were there.” Okay, that was Charles Manson implying murder to drug-addled morons, but the basic idea is a sacred mission. “Witchy” can be reassigned/redesigned/reassembled as Magick, random creative/destructive moments that arise from the right people being in the right place at the right time. Unfortunately, time can also leave no one in the forest to hear the resulting sound of a band’s perfect – and only – studio album carving its name on a… tree. From 1981, Who’s Landing In My Hangar? by The Human Switchboard is a mighty, plastic oak that still stands, much like the fabled cheese, alone. Accomplished in eight years, so, not quite as prolific as the Beatles, the legacy left by The Human Switchboard is a classic DIY example of the single-minded focus, maniacal drive and pure, open-wounds need to make expressive/explosive Art in spite of demystification and because of disconnection, rather than, say, ram your head into a wall or play suicide-by-cop. Certainly, do those things if possessed by the Holy Spirit, but write about it. Paint it on out. Scream into another face, rhyming every other line. Film it, from a camera cleverly hidden in a bread truck, first. Then call the cops. Why? Why not? And this was before the interNUT made everyone into everything so quick and easy in one easy step: Lie.

The Human Switchboard Fly-In 7″ ep (1977)

Released by Faulty Products, “another I.R.S. Agency,” the LP sports a high-contrast photo of the band, accented with purple and silver. (Metz, I must say, is wearing the longest-crotched pants I’ve ever seen.) My copy is still glossy, like the unmolested corpse of some saint in a glass box. Deservedly so. “(Say No To) Saturday’s Girl” begins side 1 with an organ intro. You’re late to church. Grab a seat before the drums start…

Bob Pfeifer (guitars, vocals), Myrna Marcarian (Farfisa, piano, vocals) and Ron Metz (drums) formed the core of the band, filling bass holes with Steve Calabria, Paul Hamann, and Doug Morgan, but never finding the elusive fourth member. The saxophone was blown by Ernie Krivda. It’s a stripped-to-the-bone delivery, however, as the mix has been compared to The Velvet Underground. I hear that, but Marcarian’s rich tones, from harmonizing to shouts, invokes Patti Smith and Pfeifer has enough sneer and angsty tenderness in his vocal cords to propel the material when singing solo. Though born in Cleveland in 1977, The Human Switchboard were steeped in the NYC scene with attitude verging on No Wave. Emotionally cacophonous, all killer, no filler. From Tom Carson’s back cover notes dated July 4, 1981, “there are still a few others who know that it (Rock’n’Roll) was the most dangerous, joyful noise they’d ever heard…a whole way of life. This record is for them.”

The remainder of Human Switchboard’s discography encompassed 4 EPs/singles, Human Switchboard Live (Square Records, 1980), Coffee Break! (ROIR cassette-only, live) and a couple of compilation tracks. Fat Possum reissued their first, self-released, 4-song 7″ on Record Store Day, 2019, expanded from the original “lyric leaf & 7″ x 14″ pop poster” to include a ‘zine of press clippings and flyers. Who’s Landing In My Hangar? was also reissued the same year. Of course, EVERYTHING is available to steal online. Get yours, today!

The band’s history is that of a million others, with critical acclaim but no risk-taking by major labels. After relocating to Kent, OH, they operated a record store as a base and for financial support, successfully, for 3 years. Pfeifer and Marcarian were involved in a relationship, having met at Syracuse University, and that story has a predictable ending. No more making beautiful music together. Though breaking up under the frustration and stress of spinning their wheels threatened the group, again and again, they managed to hold on until 1985, with followings in Kent, Akron, Dayton, Detroit, Columbus and…Pittsburgh. (Let me know if/where you saw them, I beg of you, please and thank you.) Polydor UK financed demos in 1983, recorded during afternoons on CBGB’s 16-track machine, but the plug was pulled, literally, when John Stains, their champion at Polydor was sacked. Such missed opportunities and lost connections aside, they continued playing regular shows for the next year and a half. After the band imploded, Marcarian, Metz, and Pfeifer continued with other projects I don’t really care about but, in 1987, Pfeifer released his anemic solo LP Afterwords. More on that later.

Mark: you had your chances! Flyer for Human Switchboard at Lion Walk (North Oakland) c. 1979?

Flyer for The Human Switchboard at Phase III (Swissvale) c. 1979

First, the Farfisa. Organ of choice for the wedding marches of sickly Goths who still have a warm spot for Hello Kitty (REGISTERED TRADEMARK). 96 Tears. (Joe “King” Carrasco and The Crowns did a ripping cover, remember? Like James Brown.) As Mod as it is cartoony and off-kilter, like its power source is a questionably overloaded socket. Singular and charming, forever groovy and reliably overplayed percussively, the Farfisa belongs in the otherworldly realm of theremins, harmoniums and bagpipes. Hits you in the back of the neck and spreads like a shot of whiskey going down. Delicious, delightful and delovely.

Interestingly enough, it’s Marcarian’s organ and voice, Metz’s drumming and the hired-gun bass lines that do the heavy-lifting, overshadowing Pfeifer’s guitar and voice ever so slightly, but consistently. The best tracks on WLIMH? are those that interplay Marcarian and Pfeifer’s vocals and her singing solo. The absolute centerpiece, closing side one, is the seven-and-a-half minute “Refrigerator Door,” which Curt Somebody-or-other called the “Stairway To Heaven” of punk.” Even with a hole in his head, his exaggeration comes close. Masters of the slow-burn building itchy tension to suddenly release hellfire and silence…repeat, “Refrigerator Door” is the hinge between sides, punctuating a remarkably well-crafted tracklist and not condemned to close the LP, as an obvious climax.

It is strange to ponder how removed we’ve gotten from the frustration of sitting by the telephone, waiting, hoping it will ring. A generation has already abandoned the process, if it was ever aware of it in the first place. A romantic dance with phone cords has been made irrelevant and the anticipation of exciting communication lost to Instagrab’s distractions while walking into Starbuck’s. It just ain’t the same. The language is gone and nobody’s crying in a telephone booth ever again. Now there’s an app. “BO-RING!” – Joanne Worley.

Human Switchboard “Refrigerator Door”

Spare, minimal and provocative, like bits of overheard conversation, “Refrigerator Door” is a relationship from “the first time that I ever saw you” to the “last time I saw you down at…Freddy’s” condensed to the essence of breathless, pleading, accusatory and regretful he-said/she-said. Simplicity nailed to the wall in such succinct language, you feel the lonely frustration in “ring, ring, ring” and the repetitious dullness of “work, work, work.” Phrasing, timing and interplay succeed in keeping up with the tempo changes, building, swirling and exploding into some of the most effective silences since Eve invented the cold shoulder. And then, a funny thing happens.

Right in the eye of the on/off storm, Pfeifer sings in Slovene. My grandfather was born in Bratislava, Czechoslavakia, or so I’ve been led to believe. I know nothing of my family history before that and am not inclined to find out, again, choosing to stay mystified at why anyone would want to have children. Besides, they all left me here to repeat their mistakes. Anyway, Slovak is a Western Slavic language and Slovene is Southern, just in case it pops up as a Jeopardy! question. My parents spoke Slovak and I know a few choice words, but it’s strangely creepy/romantic in Pfeifer’s delivery, nasty yet tender…no, the insidiously personal words of a lover. Secret.

If WLIMH? has a secret, it’s the securely insecure, stand up for your wrongs reality of the LP as a whole. Real people making real music, relevant, relatable and revealing. COPE 1, for Chrissakes. Bleed for your Art. There isn’t a stinker in the grooves, but the title track, “I Can Walk Alone,” “Book On Looks,” and “Where The Light Breaks” are other favorites. This is an LP that I have never listened to once, but continued flipping sides until I’ve plugged in, getting messages on my answering machine connected to the landline in my head.

So, what went wrong with Pfeifer’s solo LP, Afterwords? For me, it’s a case of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Though they appear on the record, Metz on drums and Marcarian doing backing vocals, the strength of the triangle was broken, Pfeifer, quite possibly, being the weakest side. It lacks the energy, tension and glorious release of WLIMH? but would probably be a monster sophomore if recorded by The Human Switchboard. It pales as is and it’s disappointing to view the pyramid from one side. If that’s not enough of a bummer, Pfeifer went on to be an A&R man and eventually the President of Hollywood Records. Something not quite right about that. No, siree.

Three. It’s a Magick number.

A Canyon Lady’s Songs, Nearly Lost to Time

Elyse Weinberg: Greasepaint Smile (Numerophon, 2015)

Scott Silsbe

Houses

Some nights, before heading off to Dreamland, my brain wanders in the muck that is the limited reaches of my comprehension of the world and beyond. I partly blame or credit the moon. That sliver or ball up there in the night sky does things to my mind, pouring its light in through my window. I end up trying to process what I read about the universe expanding, say, or I attempt to wrap my head around the history of recorded music. All recorded music. That’s a lot of music. So I narrow it. All officially released music. Then I broaden it. Shelved material—albums that were written, recorded, mixed, and then…never came out.

 I can’t remember exactly how long shelved albums have been an interest of mine, but I think I understand why they interest me. There’s a story there. One classic-to-me example is a great Lee Morgan Blue Note album called, Tom Cat. Tom Cat was recorded in 1964, but wasn’t released until 1980. The story there is that his album The Sidewinder, recorded in ‘63, had become a commercial success in ‘64 due to the cross-over appeal of the soul-jazz-y title track. The Sidewinder saved Blue Note from bankruptcy and the heads of the label decided to focus Morgan on more music in that vein. And so, Tom Cat sat on a shelf for 16 years.

Elyse Weinberg “Houses”

Recently, I happened upon Elyse Weinberg’s song, “Houses.” This led me to her second album, Greasepaint Smile—an album that was recorded in 1969, but didn’t see a proper release until 2015. The story…

Weinberg was born in 1945 in Chatham, Ontario, Canada. She grew up there and in Montreal, where, at age 12, she acquired her first guitar. After dropping out of McGill, Weinberg moved to Toronto to be a part of the folk scene there that featured acts like Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot, and Ian & Sylvia. Weinberg also made friends with Neil Young, who eventually suggested that she move out to Los Angeles. That she did in the spring of 1968, crashing on Young’s couch before becoming roommates with Cass Elliot. Elliot introduced Weinberg to Roy Silver (who had managed Elliot in her band before The Mamas & the Papas, The Big 3), and Silver immediately signed Weinberg to a management and record deal. By May of 1969, Weinberg’s debut record, Elyse, was out on Tetragrammaton Records, a label Roy Silver co-owned with Bill Cosby. Weinberg was 23 years old.

Elyse was a success. It made it to #31 on the Billboard charts. Weinberg was included in a 1969 Newsweek feature about lady songwriters and she made an appearance on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. Cher covered “Band of Thieves,” the first song on Elyse, for the soundtrack of her acting debut (though the song was renamed and credited to Sonny Bono—oops!). A session for the follow-up album was quickly arranged, recorded, and was completed before summer’s end in 1969. According to Jerry David DeCicca (in Greasepaint Smile’s liner notes), “But despite Tetragrammaton reserving the catalog number and completing the photo shoot for the album cover, the label was in financial trouble. During the release of Deep Purple’s third album, their most profitable artist, they went bankrupt and closed shop.” And so…Greasepaint Smile sat. For 46 years.

The stripped-down “What You Call It” gets the album rolling—Weinberg finger-picking and singing, “You make it easy in so many ways…” It definitely has a 1969 feel to it. And you can certainly hear the connection to her countrymen, Neil and Joni (I pick up on some very “Morning Morgantown” vibes). It’s a pretty song…but there’s something to the vocals—a grit. And a plaintiveness. As DeCicca notes, Weinberg described her own voice as an “old gravel pit.

With track two, “City of the Angels,” producer David Briggs makes his presence felt. Briggs was Neil Young’s engineer, starting with Young’s very first solo album. I hear some of that “Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere”-type production in “City of the Angels”—most notably perhaps in the tone of the very-pronounced lead guitar line running through the song. The drums kick pretty hard—that’s J. D. Souther on the traps and Kenny Edwards (of The Stone Poneys) on bass. Weinberg shows some Dylan-influence in her lyrics and in the delivery of them with lines like, “The satisfied saints with dime store visions / Don’t even begin to see / That paradise lost was paradise gained / I know I claimed it gracelessly.” The backing vocals on the choruses also have an element that feels very familiar to me as a Neil Young fan—I think that’s Briggs’s touch again.

Even more houses

And then comes “Houses”—the would-be hit, had this album made its way out in the world back in the day. It’s not just the fact that Neil Young plays lead guitar on it—though that is an endearing quality of the song. It just has that hit single feel to it. It’s catchy, but also sonically intriguing. There are shifting time signatures, Weinberg’s croon-y gravel pit vocals, well-positioned backing vocals on the choruses, and a nice folk-rock lope to the tempo. And Weinberg’s compelling yet mysterious lyrics. And that Neil Young guitar-work I mentioned. In DeCicca’s liner notes, he quotes Weinberg talking about Young recording the lead guitar for “Houses”—“These were fuzzy times, but Weinberg recalls this part of the session well: ‘I remember us sitting in the control room and Neil was plugged directly into the soundboard. I had my arm around him and he just began ripping out these beautiful guitar lines. It was very sweet and intimate.’”

Side one is rounded out with “It’s All Right to Linger” and “Collection Bureau.” “Collection Bureau” is another one that has a recognizable groove for Neil Young fans like myself. It’s got this slow, late 60s / early 70s blues-rock beginning that builds to a full-throated guitar shred. And on lead guitar for this track…18-year-old Nils Lofgren (of Crazy Horse).

Elyse Weinberg “My My My”

The flipside of the album starts with a shambling cover of The Carter Family’s “Gospel Ship”—a nod to Weinberg’s roots and early influences. According to DeCicca, The Carter Family’s “Wildwood Flower” was one of the first songs Weinberg learned back in those old folky days. With “Nicodemus” and “My, My, My,” we hear Weinberg’s deep emotional strain come through in the lyrics—in “Nicodemus,” she sings, “Please don’t desert me / Not in my hour of need” and “Please don’t abuse me / I’m looking for relief.” Again, from DeCicca’s liner notes—“As [Weinberg] listens back now, she says, ‘I hear a young woman wanting to be loved. I hear a spiritual yearning for a higher love. I know it now, but I didn’t know it then.’” The album closes with the title track. There’s a nice little bit of studio banter left in at the beginning of the song. And Lofgren’s guitar makes another welcome appearance. “Greasepaint Smile” has a similar vibe as “Houses”—it could have been a good pick for a second single from the record.

By the mid-70s, Elyse Weinberg had given up on a music career. But … flash forward to the year 2000 when Elf Power frontman Andrew Rieger found an old copy of Elyse in a thrift store in Missoula, Montana and purchased it because he liked the cover art. Once Rieger got around to spinning the platter, he and his bandmate Laura Carter fell for it hard. Rieger got in touch with Weinberg (now 56 years old, living in Ashland, Oregon, and going by the name Cori Bishop) and asked if he could reissue the album on his record label, Orange Twin. She agreed and Elyse was reissued in 2001. This led to a resurgence of interest in Weinberg and “Houses” ended up being the hit it always had the potential to be. At least in some circles. The song has been covered by Vetiver, Dinosaur Jr., and Courtney Barnett … and countless others, I’m sure. Weinberg self-released an album called In My Own Sweet Time in 2009. And The Numero Group released Greasepaint Smile in 2015 on their Numerophon imprint. Elyse Weinberg passed away in 2020 at the age of 74.

A Splitting of Differences Between the This and the That

Bob Jungkunz

Feet on the ground! … just don’t track that stuff into the house

Starting is such sweet sorrow. Made a list. I blame CREEM; you can hold me responsible, though. Some factoids of the imagination, lots of questions, a few obzervationz and ruminations, theoretical bungling, fond remembrances, half-assed praisings / condemnations, goofy ideas and who-knows-what. Even feeble comparisons! A splitting of differences between the this and the that, the real and the imagined, the peanut and the butter. In this particular case, if it exists, very good. If it does not exist, we’ll wait until it does. Be that as it may, some good-natured ribbing is being tossed about. Rest assured, no ill will is meant. Feet on the ground!

• Carole King’s Tapestry can be a very pesky album, if you know what I mean.
• Fleetwood Mac’s Kiln House is a record with no discernible odor.
• The Velvet Underground’s Squeeze is most likely someone’s favorite fake Grateful Dead album (maybe Ian Paice).
• The soundtrack to 2001: A Space Odyssey is an important record.

A space oddity

• Doing A Moonlight by Alkatraz is the most 1976 record I’ve never heard. When am I?
• Fleetwood Max Rumours is fueled by hushed gossip at pleasant tempo and volume.
• Fleetwood Snack’s Bare Trees hardly shuffles at all.
• Electronic Sound by George Harrison is a contradictory son-of-a-potato-gun.
• Throbbing Gristle’s Live at Leeds is quite different from The Who’s Live at Leeds, but I’m not sure how. It’s all noise to me!
• “No Fair At All” by The Association must be one of the most crushed-by-chance records out there!
• The Opals “Hop, Skip & Jump” will make you want to play saxophone, too.
• The Androids of Mu are sassy and elastic and full of it.
• 10cc epitomized everything, until consequence said enough already!
• Delta 5 happened exactly when they were supposed to.
• Procol Harum’s Shine on Brightly album is splendid. Especially the parts that sound like Hobbstweedle.
• That very first Montrose album could do with a haircut, but it’s OK for now.
• Mouth & MacNeal asked the right question, but got the wrong answer. Sometimes they got no answer at all.
• The New Christy Minstrels are held in high esteem by Open Mike Eagle, for reasons that he has never clearly explained.
• Hawkwind, Hawklords, Hawksquat, Steve Hawkett, Hawkbutt, Hawkflip, Hawknot, Hawkrock, Hawkbloop, A Hawkwind And A Hawksaw, Blatz beer.
• Mellotron flamenco is something that has not happened since way back Wurlitzer-when.

Wurlizer-when

• Algebra Mothers plus New Math plus The Bad Plus divided by Joy Division equals pi (in the sky).
• Lou Christie used to start his DJ sets with Homer & Jethro’s “Why Don’t You Wash Your Feet.”
• Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band did an Al Martino medley, live, on July 28, 1964, at Yreka High School in Forks of Salmon, California. They only did this once.
• The Beach Boys were all amateur window-washers.
• The Dells knew absolutely that Crass would never cover any of their songs in the future.
• Ravi Shankar had trophy regret.
• Be Bop Deluxe were right there, in Youngstown.
• Art Blakey certainly knew a lot of people.
• Mac Miller sells more now than Glenn Miller, Mitch Miller, and Mrs. Miller combined did then. Well, maybe not more than Glenn (then).
• The Tommy Flanagan Trio once considered calling themselves The Psychotic Petunias, but that was many moons ago. Jazz is crazy.
• Moondog was some cat.
• Voivod tartan paisley leisure jumpsuits were very popular in Montreal in 1979. Guys and gals!
• The Lounge Lizards worked up an arrangement of the theme from the Barney Miller TV series in 1982, but John Lurie said the “cohesion wasn’t there,” so they abandoned it. However, they did do a smashing version of the theme from Mannix at the same session, but decided not to release it. Lalo Schifrin thought it was tremendous when he heard it. Go figure!

Barney Miller? maybe…

• Any Trouble loved knish. It was on their rider for every show they ever did. Of course, they did not get it all the time, but occasionally they got knish-lucky.
• Blue Snag made serious use of galvanometers in the making of their second album, “Screw It, You Do It!”
• Indiana wants me.
• Chuck Berry, Bill Berry, Berry Gordy, Barry Gibb, and Cindy Lee Berryhill…what a band that could be!
• As far as I can tell, Sailcat never opened for Wilson Pickett, or vices verses.
• Doris Day, Morris Day. Funky days indeed.
• David Bowie wasn’t well pleased with the nickname Davbow.
• Budgie weren’t all that different from The Groundhogs (or Huggy Bear, for that matter) but if Budgie had been Budgie’s drummer, they would have been way different.
• The Dirty Three’s drummer also played drums for People With Chairs Up Their Noses!
• When will somebody reissue those early Smog cassettes? Shirley there are people that want to bask.
• Home taping really did kill music, didn’t it? Just took a lot longer than anyone thought, that’s all.
• All of Fleetwood Quack’s guitar solos are overdubbed and underscrubbed and concise, except for “Madge.”
• There exists a mis-pressing of ZZ Top’s First Album where the typesetter forgot the “r” in “First”, nobody noticed, and it was printed as “Fist Album.” It was recalled very quickly.
• I know what Scott English’s “High On A Hill” is about, but I don’t know what his “4,000 Miles Away” is about.
• Cabaret Voltaire were very careful about the many cables and cords they used for their equipment. They used 27% more cables and cords than any other proto-industrial / punknoise / gloomydark popslopsters out there. They were tired of tripping over them, so they got careful.
• There are two different Gorgeous Georges. The one that made records was also a tailor. The other one did not make any records, besides which he was a wrestler.
• A shirt with four sleeves for Kanye. And perhaps a triple-placket on the 7-inch collar.
• 4-71 GMC blower runs at crank speed off Potvin kit, Hilborn injected. Spalding ignition with vacuum advance converted to manual lights fire, contained by Forgedtrue pistons. Cam is a Racer Brown ST #2. Schiefer clutch holds 330-incher’s torque. 163.63 mph and 9.26 e.t.
• The Ventures, while on surfari in Japan in 1966, demonstrated that timing is everything. Even the future! Mel Taylor gripped tradition as elegantly and as surely as the mastermonster he must have been.

mastermonster

• Y Pants always tried to play in tune, but they couldn’t. It was probably the ukulele that threw them for a not-in-tune-never-ever loop.
• Ozzy Osbourne’s version of “21^st Century Schizoid Man” is nowhere near as good as Karmic Juggernaut’s version. Seriously.
• Boston had Boston, New England had New England, Kansas had Kansas, Chicago had Chicago, Pittsburgh had the Cardboards!
• “Satisfactorize Your Mind” by Africano is much smoother and weirder than I had initially expected. Rumbling boom-boom and strings combination perplexing.
• Les Yss Boys had a whole heck of a lot of ooomph in their sound. Maybe more than when they were known as Iss Boys. Either way, lotta ooomph.
• Head East seemed to genuinely like pancakes. A lot of carbs. It may have been just a phase; who knows? In any case, just about all their albums sport cover art as charming as any of Foghat’s.
• The Smurfs were once approached by Lester Sill with a request to record a version of “River Deep, Mountain High.” Something to do with Phil Spector, temper tantrums and the Internal Revenue Service. The Smurfs very politely declined (non merci!).

River deep, mountain high

• John Cage may have been seen wearing a Merzbow T-shirt in 1984. Reports are unconfirmed, but that’s to be expected with Mr. Cage and his T-shirt infamy.
• Joe Meek may not have been sure of what he was doing, but he did it anyway. That’s what counts. Could he have produced all of those records otherwise?
• Kathy Young was way off on how many stars she counted in the sky. Was she in a hurry? Suglasses after dark? Did she have a calculator handy?
• Twenty seven! There were at least twenty seven different places to buy records in the greater Pittsburgh area between the years of, say, 1976 and 1985. NRM had five locations Downtown alone, Peaches in Bethel Park, Heads Together in Squirrel Hill, Garbage and Jerry’s and Flo’s in Oakland, The Record Graveyard too. Horne’s, Gimbels, and Kaufmann’s all had record departments, as did Sears, G. C. Murphy’s and McCrory’s. Jim’s in Bloomfield, and Eide’s, and all of the Goodwills and thrift stores. The Listening Post in Shadyside. I even once bought a copy of the Lovin’ Spoonful’s Greatest Hits at the Little General convenience store in Carrick for ninety-nine cents. A record store called Gentile’s in Carrick that was gone by the time I turned eight, so that doesn’t really count, but I had to mention it. Hardware stores sold records! Lots of them were cut-outs, so they were cheap. Everywhere you went (it seems), there were records to buy. Pittsburgh still has lots of places to buy the pre-recorded music of your choice, and we’re very fortunate, because we love records. Twenty seven is not an accurate number at all, this is a memory-serves kind of thing…but boyoboy there was lots!

A different kind of record graveyard

• PSS 139, EMI 4C 006-06294, 8245, RS 6286, SMAS-11115, Rough US 6. Gadzooks! 0840 (M7442) sez “woof, me too!”. Why the heck not.
• Chubby Checker twisted. Alvin Cash did not. Even though it’s not a contest, just on the basis of Buddy Savitt’s gruff an’ tumble saxophone work, the Chubster wins.
• Paul McCartney had no synch mechanism on his recording rig for his very first solo album, so maybe that’s why it sounds the way that it does. Which way you goin’, Billy?
• Is it really that hard to finish a guitar solo?
• Speaking of drums, Johnny Barbata is one of the best. Well, he’s not a drum, he’s a drummer. A top-notch drummer. Besides which, he used two hi-hats (or sock cymbals, if you like). TWO!
• Geography, birthdays, the chaos of the universe. What if Leonard Cohen were British and he played saxophone and he didn’t really care for poetry….Ray Davies was from Topeka, Kansas, and all he wanted to do was devote himself to the Moog synthesizer and “Waterloo Sunset” never even entered his mind…..Courtney Barnett was a Hammond organ genius of French origin born in 1954…..Chris Spedding on guitar (of course)…..or Alec Bathgate……or Louis Armstrong, born in 1959 in Walla Walla, decides to focus on the electric bass? Or if Atomic Rooster thought that Atomic Booster was a better name? Things would be different.
• Swamp Rats, Terry Lee, David Werner, “Come Alive,” You and The Stew. Discuss.
• Dion may have used two drummers on “The Wanderer,” Panama Francis and Sticks Evans (just like the Allman Brothers and the early Doobie Brothers!). To be certain, a trip back thru the mists of time would be necessary. I’m not ready for that…but I’d really like to know.

Yep. That’s about it. There might be more, but less is usually more, and in any case enough is enough. I thank you for your thyme (and your paprika)!