tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52865336752044424032024-03-12T23:05:36.606-04:00GEMINI SPACECRAFTBob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-51370060632499302912024-02-18T23:30:00.001-05:002024-02-21T14:00:24.786-05:00Dexter Romweber (RIP) and The Flat Duo Jets<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEic0UPDyuI7VNRyf9I_ap0S04gJ1qQGnmCk5b6pn9fpE8Ynme0WsK4PJ7Md2alVYZx43YHqlnnTGr_3S0lK2-SidNYhQsQuCRRrUwXUZhDEEJpQwE9hKswFvI2wbJZJPS1jfXz5gA-2T3lwaHQwX3Uqnj4GmktysQuWfcaOCThEAtYtvnRNUUBC4v80ZM4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEic0UPDyuI7VNRyf9I_ap0S04gJ1qQGnmCk5b6pn9fpE8Ynme0WsK4PJ7Md2alVYZx43YHqlnnTGr_3S0lK2-SidNYhQsQuCRRrUwXUZhDEEJpQwE9hKswFvI2wbJZJPS1jfXz5gA-2T3lwaHQwX3Uqnj4GmktysQuWfcaOCThEAtYtvnRNUUBC4v80ZM4" width="320" /></a></div><br />Like a lot of folks right about now, I've been thinking about the recently deceased Dexter Romweber and his old band, The Flat Duo Jets. The news of Dex's passing is, to me, truly shocking and sad. I'd just gotten home from seeing an incredibly great show by Big Sandy along with the Dave and Deke Combo, was tired, old guy no longer used to staying out so late, and I checked the social media monster on my phone and learned the news. Man, how I loved The Flat Duo Jets at one time. I nearly wore the grooves out on my copy of their first LP. Their versions of Benny Joy's "Wild, Wild Lover," The Frantic Four's "Down by the Old Millstream," Bobby Brown and Curios' "Please, Please Baby," Glen Bland's "When My Baby Passes By," and others all seemed to blaze forth both from the shadowy past of American music as well as from outer space. Like the music rode some lost radio signal that had broken loose from the 1950's and traveled out past Pluto before it boomeranged back toward Earth even more damaged, warped, loud and furious. Or something like that. Later I would discover the original versions of all of those songs, first on various rockabilly compilations, then sometimes even on 45 records. But The Flat Duo Jets definitely acted as one of my gateway drugs.<p></p><p>Speaking of drugs... I was trying to recall at what point and just how I first discovered The Flat Duo Jets and narrowed it down to the year 1990. Then I had recently returned from New York City to Pittsburgh, PA, where I had family, in order to get clean. It's hard to collect records when you have a dope habit, and, as I skidded into the early 90's, I owned only a couple of Cramps records, maybe a Little Walter LP, and it got worse from there. At that time I had to rebuild everything, the record collection, my brain, and my whole life. By necessity I took a menial job with the Three Rivers Arts Festival that summer, working on the set-up crew. This mostly involved constructing miles of scaffolding --for artist booths, stages, etc.,-- and ripping back and forth to the festival's warehouse in a beat 70's Chevy pickup that really hauled ass. At this job I met a guy, Chris Franko, who'd been hired to work security around the festival office. For him that mostly meant sitting around and reading books all day, and, whenever the crew blew back to the office, shooting the shit with us. We discussed the usual, music, film, books, politics and all of that, and he was pretty hep. Much more so than me! Back then I was pretty much just a mess. Anyway, Franko was the one who turned me on to The Gories, The Scientists from Australia, and... The Flat Duo Jets, among others. All of those bands put some dents in my life, one way or another. For example, hearing The Gories made me take up playing the guitar, thinking "Shee-it... I could do <i>that!</i> " (I learned my lesson there--sure, it was easy to play their one or two chords. But could ya do it with the same mojo? What the hell, after kicking the dope, I needed a new pass time.) And The Flat Duo Jets would just sort of haunt me all of the time.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3wEvaZZi46hm4NCe8TUw3VZT6znFWiulJiBChbuFh4RmIA9rdJ29h4YRxi4PxDzlP2gv5jTOtJ_wMkwdHFNtsDLHL0iL24AaWounmE_w8e2VOB7C77PHnoxkImbRPYL0CSY2DuwfEGKv_kDFiGRCPUVbDc3m1RZNYhk2t6sbGLNAXgPAHHRxkntkmHiA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh3wEvaZZi46hm4NCe8TUw3VZT6znFWiulJiBChbuFh4RmIA9rdJ29h4YRxi4PxDzlP2gv5jTOtJ_wMkwdHFNtsDLHL0iL24AaWounmE_w8e2VOB7C77PHnoxkImbRPYL0CSY2DuwfEGKv_kDFiGRCPUVbDc3m1RZNYhk2t6sbGLNAXgPAHHRxkntkmHiA=w311-h288" width="311" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>I wanted badly to catch The Flat Duo Jets live, but I'd have to wait years, until the late 90's, before they played the 'burgh. Sure, <i>old</i> Pittsburgh, the Pittsburgh of Mad Mike Metrovic, et. al., is legendary. But the rocker kids there at the time mostly tended to go for the sort of jockly, testosterone-fueled indie rock found on the Touch'n'Go and Amphetamine Reptile record labels. For example, the hot ticket at the time were local boys who made the indie rock big time, Don Caballero, who played a sort of muscle bound power prog rock. And the guy that promoted most of the underground shows was into art damage and experimental music. Yes, I've seen The Ex, and the Dog Faced Hermans. We did have The Cynics and The Mount McKinleys to scratch the garage rock itch. But, for the most part, during the 90's, Pittsburgh got passed over by most of the bands that played my kind of music. However, sometimes when ya gotta wait for something, it's all the better when it finally hits. Eventually, probably around 1997 or thereabouts, Dex and Crow brought the act to town and I made sure not to miss it. They did not disappoint. In fact, I don't think their records fully prepared me for the intensity of their live show, and especially for the state that Dex worked himself into when he played. When he rocked he was truly possessed by something not altogether benevolent. And man could he and Crow play. Of course, between every song, there was all the tuning he had to do on that crappy Silvertone guitar. Yeah, yeah, everyone loves the tone of those Danelectro-made lipstick pickups, and rightfully so. But the headstocks are fucked, forcing the strings to angle off the nut too severely up to the tuning pegs to remain in tune very long, rendering the guitars a total pain in the ass to play a show with. But Dex made it look easy, as if he'd been born with a Silvertone as an extra appendage. Needless to say, after their show, I went out directly and bought the first one of those I could find. And back then they still fetched only about $100. </p><p>I still have all of my Flat Duo Jets records, but for some reason haven't played em much in recent years, I'll admit. And they cut several great ones after their first, LPs like "Safari", "Introducing the Flat Duo Jets" (songs all recorded in one take at Brooklyn's Coyote Studios), "Wild Blue Yonder", "White Trees", "Red Tango" and more. And while I eventually got to catch him live quite a bit, I haven't seen Dex play since the Norton Records 25th anniversary party in Brooklyn already more than a decade ago. And somehow I doubt I'll dust off those records and play them now, even in tribute, at least for a little while, since I'm sure to do so would just be too impossibly sad. What a loss. Characters like Dexter Romweber don't come around too often. Truly rest in peace, Flat Duo Jet, god bless you, and thanks for all that you gave us. </p><p></p>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-57846741194897273762012-10-21T11:54:00.000-04:002012-10-21T11:58:59.332-04:00Goin' Instro-Mental #7 - Ike Turner <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Skxbe0iKl1M/UIQX6zAy8xI/AAAAAAAABBw/LRWZhFOLtlk/s1600/Ike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Skxbe0iKl1M/UIQX6zAy8xI/AAAAAAAABBw/LRWZhFOLtlk/s400/Ike.jpg" width="375" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We like Ike</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19538554-c03">The Rooster - Ike Turner's Kings of Rhythm</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/20053706-7bf">Square Dance - Ike Turner's Kings of Rhythm</a> Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-63491630361980155982012-09-23T12:42:00.000-04:002012-09-23T12:43:22.881-04:00Andy Starr - Rockin' Rollin' Stone<style>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0W_MPg8O1DU/UFX880-2fMI/AAAAAAAABBI/s1FWYW_6Z5I/s1600/AndyStarrCountrySongRoundup" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0W_MPg8O1DU/UFX880-2fMI/AAAAAAAABBI/s1FWYW_6Z5I/s400/AndyStarrCountrySongRoundup" width="317" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I don’t want to hear
none of your tales, boy… Too many tales come from these mountains and
everwhere…”*</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The
Ozark Mountains breed many legends. In the foggy hollers there, tales abound
of witches, of the impending revolt of the Nini indians, and of a
chicken-legged man-monster known as the Yarp. Yet another to have once roamed
those hills was rockabilly legend Frank “Andy” Starr, the Rockin’ Rollin’
Jumpin’ Crazy Stone. </span></span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JRk7I36DD4o/UFX8r9zproI/AAAAAAAABBA/PpHd-7h9Vzs/s1600/DesireInTheOzarks" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JRk7I36DD4o/UFX8r9zproI/AAAAAAAABBA/PpHd-7h9Vzs/s400/DesireInTheOzarks" width="258" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Born
into abject poverty, named after a U.S. president, Franklin Delano Gulledge (b.
1932) grew up in a dirt shack near Mill Creek, “about six mile from Combs,
Arkansas.” His<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b>mother struggled to feed the brood bestowed upon her by her
rounder husband. The elder Gulledge, Grover Cleveland by name (yes, such naming was a family tradition), came and went according to the movements
of an itinerant hustler. He was rarely present in the home. To help out
around the dirt farm, sister Drew sold the Cloverleaf Salve that arrived by mail
order. She sold so much, in fact, that she won a prize: a cheap guitar. The
siblings all shared that guitar, beating and bashing it in the hillbilly fashion, but young Frank took a true shine to it. Blowing thru Mill Creek again around that
time, G.C., a fiddle player himself, heard his middle son strumming on that
mail order guitar. Father encouraged son to “tag along in the
Key of D.” He liked what he heard and began to take his son with him to play
the local dances held in cabins around the hills. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">(Continued, with song files, after the jump.) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“…and now, getting on dark, the
mountains I feel they live and squeeze in on you…” </span></i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">As he
grew, he who would become Andy Starr began to get wise to the dead-end life
dealt by poverty. He got a gun. He hit the road. He worked and hobo’d and
played that mail-order guitar.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">War
broke out in KO-rea just when Starr'd reached perfect commie killin’ age. To an army
recruiter he said “Well, I’ll tell you. You give me a gun and show me who you
want me to shoot, and I’ll shoot him.” The U.S. Army can always use a man like
that, and they packed Starr off straightaway to the DMZ. At that time, Starr wanted
to fight, and not play music. But the army heard him play that guitar, and
encouraged him to entertain the troops with it. The good soldier followed his orders and assembled
a hillbilly combo called The Arkansas Plowboys. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">War
ended, and, like many vets, Starr returned home and married a hot li'l number.
Wives would come. Wives would go. Sherry Davis was but his first. And yet, as
Starr said, "There is something about your first wife that is very
special." </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meanwhile,
The Arkansas Plowboys plowed onward. They worked in California, with Starr’s
brothers joining the band. They rambled back and forth from L.A. to Texas,
playing dates, seeking recording deals. The brothers soon bailed, but the
Rockin’ Rollin’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stone kept at it. Eventually
Starr landed spot on radio station KDSX in Dennison, TX. Nights he played over
on the other side of the Red River, in the rowdy, ramshackle honky tonks along
a stretch of highway then called the Oklahoma Strip. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Around
this time, the KDSX Station Manager tipped Starr to the news that businessman
Joe Leonard, of Gainesville, TX, was launching his Lin Record Co. and needed
talent for its roster. In 1955 Starr released his first single <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19630746-3db">"Dig Them Squeaky Shoes"</a> for the Lin label. The record was credited to “Andy Starr.”
The modest success of his early Lin sides earned Starr a spot on Opry
package shows, sharing billing with the likes of Grandpa Jones, Porter
Wagoner, and others. But, like many during that mid-50’s era, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy Starr had a different, new sound, a
rougher, rowdier sound</span>--<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">who knows what those nights on the Oklahoma Strip had
wrought? Hillbilly disc jockey Carl “The Squeakin’ Deacon” Moore described
Starr thus: "You've heard of Elvis the Pelvis, now meet Andy the Dandy."
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9YN5z5dn7Jo/UFYS1hUs-aI/AAAAAAAABBY/Kpw1MimHACM/s1600/RoundandRound.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9YN5z5dn7Jo/UFYS1hUs-aI/AAAAAAAABBY/Kpw1MimHACM/s200/RoundandRound.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">1956 was
the big year for Andy Starr. Just as he hit his Rockin’ Rollin’ peak, Joe
Leonard began leasing his recordings to MGM, a major label that, like all the
majors at that time, actively sought their own answer to Elvis. For MGM, Starr
cut roughly a half-dozen bursts of rockabilly perfection. First of these was <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19630765-bdc">“Rockin’Rollin’ Stone”</a> b/w <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19630769-15a">“I Wanna Go South,”</a> followed by <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19630771-194">“She’s Goin’ Jessie”</a> b/w <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19630772-f6f">“OldDeacon Jones,”</a> and that ultimate, steam-rollin’, pent-up and pantin’ twin-spin <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19630759-e09">“Round& Round”</a> b/w <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19630774-7a7">“Give Me a Woman.” </a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“He was known to come to a dance
out of nowhere and negotiate his fiddle to warp women & girls.” </span></i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Success
with MGM brought notoriety, Opry dates, write-ups in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Country Song Round-Up,</i> and, if not monetary wealth, then wealth of
another kind. “The young ladies were coming along by the droves,” Starr would
later recount. “And I began to date these young ladies. I started out dating a
different one every night and that’s the way I liked it.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">Let those last
words resonate for a moment, dear reader. “And that’s the way I liked it.” We
might as well end our story right here, for the phrase contains the essence of it all, summed up like an ad in a comic
book: "That’s right lads, follow Andy Starr’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Blueprint for Success: Play guitar, Make records, Meet & Feast upon women." That credo quickly became the tired cliché
driving thousands of extended guitar solos, but Andy Starr was one of its early
pioneers. And while his story contains subsequent chapters--</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">Franklin Delano
Starr would himself one day run for president--</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">we care little
about them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">*<i>Quotes in italics taken from "Evening of the Yarp," a short story by Barry Hannah, from the collection </i><u>Bats Out of Hell</u> <i>(Grove, 1993)</i>. </span></span></span>
Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-28814498666018473662012-09-16T11:30:00.000-04:002012-09-16T12:41:50.015-04:00Hillbilly Hayride #6: Teenage Boogie - Webb Pierce <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot4g71A0B0Y/UFVVhQ--WiI/AAAAAAAABAo/FVEH-0NU0SY/s1600/Webb" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot4g71A0B0Y/UFVVhQ--WiI/AAAAAAAABAo/FVEH-0NU0SY/s640/Webb" width="441" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19569140-401">Teenage Boogie - Webb Pierce</a>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-79509011822208855842012-09-12T22:15:00.001-04:002012-09-13T09:56:00.929-04:00ESQUERITA! - The Voola's First Capitol Single <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YuxxJDjX2vc/UFE_blIOPsI/AAAAAAAABAI/GmBX1MUr5X4/s1600/EskewOhBaby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YuxxJDjX2vc/UFE_blIOPsI/AAAAAAAABAI/GmBX1MUr5X4/s320/EskewOhBaby.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Voola's debyoola, released 1958. </td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/19538523-746"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh Baby - Esquerita </span></a> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capitol Ad, 1958</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S-aDzRZrTog/UFE_iKhdh_I/AAAAAAAABAY/IjB6CTdURbc/s1600/Esqueritagain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S-aDzRZrTog/UFE_iKhdh_I/AAAAAAAABAY/IjB6CTdURbc/s400/Esqueritagain.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Esquerita & Friend in New Orleans, mid-1960's</td></tr>
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<br />Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-90942371845086697332012-03-24T09:00:00.000-04:002012-03-24T13:51:32.663-04:00Hey Trumpet Ears! It's National Sputnik Monroe Day<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Sc_-1sPbHVI/TYqNknRBWXI/AAAAAAAAA34/w7VQAgVPESQ/s1600/wsputnik%255B1%255D_t320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Sc_-1sPbHVI/TYqNknRBWXI/AAAAAAAAA34/w7VQAgVPESQ/s400/wsputnik%255B1%255D_t320.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy Off the Top Rope Productions</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Repost from Last Year: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">March 24th is now National Sputnik Monroe day, commemorating the legendary grappler celebrated in Robert Gordon's <i>It Came from Memphis</i> and elsewhere. In the late 50s, Sputnik effectively put the bionic elbow drop on segregation at Ellis Auditorium in Memphis. Go <a href="http://sputnik.memphis-heat.com/">here</a> to read more about this, or pick up a copy of Gordon's great book. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Coinciding with National Sputnik Monroe Day is the world premiere (<i>happened last year, 2011: ed.)</i> of the Memphis wrestling documentary <i>Memphis Heat</i>. If you're in Bluff City tonight and want to catch the movie and ceremony for the late, great Sputnik, go <a href="http://sputnik.memphis-heat.com/">here</a> for more details. </span><br />
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"Sputnik Hires a Band" on Peak Records (a label owned by Lansky's clothiers?). Year? Supposedly the first wrestler record, even before Classy Freddy Blassie's "Pencil Necked Geek." <br />
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<embed wmode="transparent" height="28" width="335" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" src="http://www.divshare.com/flash/audio_embed?data=YTo2OntzOjU6ImFwaUlkIjtzOjE6IjQiO3M6NjoiZmlsZUlkIjtzOjc6IjgzODAyOTEiO3M6NDoiY29kZSI7czoxMToiODM4MDI5MS1hMWMiO3M6NjoidXNlcklkIjtzOjc6IjExNzIxMTYiO3M6MTI6ImV4dGVybmFsQ2FsbCI7aToxO3M6NDoidGltZSI7aToxMzAwOTI1MjM2O30=&autoplay=default"></embed></object>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-54919265004396901882012-03-12T10:00:00.000-04:002012-03-12T10:00:08.473-04:00The Crazy Cajun on the Teevee!<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="375" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AKZCk0df8k4" width="480"></iframe>
Huey P. Meaux, aka The Crazy Cajun, record producer, erstwhile resident of Huntsville Penitentiary, and disc jockey broadcasting his last Friday night oldies sheaux on KPFT, Houston, TX, 1974. You better sho believe it! Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-27417352530690186292012-02-29T10:00:00.000-05:002012-02-29T14:01:58.366-05:00Skeets McDonald's Tattooed Lady Plus Eleven Other Sizzlers<style>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S09TVXo8_x4/T02Zegt_4rI/AAAAAAAAA_g/IqUVA9PEa2M/s1600/tattoed-lady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S09TVXo8_x4/T02Zegt_4rI/AAAAAAAAA_g/IqUVA9PEa2M/s400/tattoed-lady.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Travel the boondocks, go back in time, out past Rackemsack, on the Hamtramck Line. Hear a boogie piano played by a man from the hills. Pet a shaggy-haired poodle, it’ll give ya a thrill. At the burlesque show you’ll see pasties twirl, but you best watch your step ‘round a Highland Park Girl. She took it to the country, and she took it to the town, but when the preacher saw her, he laid his Bible down. </div>
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In that past, nearly forgotten now, in that golden age of raunchy hillbilly records that began in the pre-war days and culminated in the early 50’s, folks knew how to make a party record. Some were tawdry, some were trite. But the best songs portray the deed with salty humor and no guilt and, what’s more, they convey the sense that death and decency lurk just outside the whorehouse door. So you'd better have your fun while you can. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>Collected here on the 1959 LP <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Skeets McDonald’s Tattooed Lady Plus Eleven Other Sizzlers</i>, is a twelve-pack of tracks chock full of leering, lascivious, and barely concealed double-entendre. For the most part all of these sides were originally released on long lost 78 rpm singles on Devora and Jack Brown’s fabled Fortune label.</div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Brief, anonymous liner notes tell more of the story:</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Skeets McDonald’s orignal hit recording of ‘<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908779-5cc">The Tattooed Lady’</a> heads this spicy, risque collection of party novelties. This is the ‘Lady’ that burned up the juke boxes in the 50’s. What a song! Also included is Skeets McDonald’s ‘<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908750-ac0">BirthdayCake Boogie,’ </a>another sizzling scorcher in the honky tonk tradition.</i></div>
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<i>Here is hilarious party fun galore as this album spins merrily on its way with <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908905-151">‘DirtyBoogie’ </a>and <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908818-744">‘She Sure Can Rock Me’ </a>by that outstanding honky tonk piano player and singer, Roy Hall, who is also a fine comedian and a versatile actor. Another high-light of this great album, are the two evergreens, <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908726-95f">‘HamtramckMama,’ </a>and <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908714-43d">‘Highland Park Girl’ </a>by the famous York Brothers. Additional spice added to this album is, <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908813-09d">‘At the Burlesque Show’ </a>by Rufus Shoffner, also the humorously spicy, <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908916-762">‘He’s a Mighty Good Man to Do That’ </a>and ‘<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908918-650">Song of the Club’</a>featuring the talented and naughty vocal stylings of Boots Gilbert. The titles of the other three numbers, by Johnny Bucket and Tommy Odim, speak for themselves </i>[See below - ed.]<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. Have a ball with this exciting TATTOOED LADY album!</i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> If Not Available At Your Dealer Order Direct</i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">FORTUNE RECORDS</i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">3942 THIRD AVE. DETROIT 1, MICHIGAN</i></div>
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Let us end here, stopping as abruptly as do the tracks on this crude album. Now move your hand, don’t let it linger, or you’ll get sticky stuff all over your finger. </div>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908960-277">Let Me Play With Your Poodle</a> - Johnny Buckett</div>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908953-3c7">Griddle Greasin' Daddy</a> - Johnny Buckett</div>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16908732-8c9">She Won't Turn Over For Me</a> - Tommy Odim </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mu73Ot0ecuM/T02aK2rbdgI/AAAAAAAAA_o/F5etFhpO8AA/s1600/birthdaycakeboogie" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mu73Ot0ecuM/T02aK2rbdgI/AAAAAAAAA_o/F5etFhpO8AA/s320/birthdaycakeboogie" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday Cake Boogie</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tHXUF--isZY/T02aaiPCPTI/AAAAAAAABAA/7lPA-UcDOYg/s1600/letmeplaywithyourpoodle" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tHXUF--isZY/T02aaiPCPTI/AAAAAAAABAA/7lPA-UcDOYg/s320/letmeplaywithyourpoodle" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can I Play With Your Poodle? </td></tr>
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<i> Original cover illustrations by David R. Kirk</i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-67162228074972651772012-01-31T10:00:00.000-05:002012-01-31T21:31:38.007-05:00Dirty! Dirty! Dirty!<style>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;">Mike Edison apparently has a soft spot for book reviewers. Or maybe he just doesn’t want us to sweat the job too hard. As for our portion of summary and description, he's already done most of he work for us with his long-assed subtitles. First there was his memoir <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I Have Fun Everywhere I Go, Savage Tales of Pot, Porn, Punk Rock, Pro Wrestling, Talking Apes, Evil Bosses, Dirty Blues, American Heroes, and The Most Notorious Magazines in the World </i>(whew! I get bushed just typing it!). Now he gives us his latest <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dirty! Dirty! Dirty!, Of Playboys, Pigs, and Penthouse Paupers, an American Tale of Sex and Wonder</i> (New York, Soft Skull, 2011)<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</i> </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;"> Edison contextualizes this latest tale with an epigram. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;">“America,” he writes, “always the most audacious of cultures, is also the most repressed.” </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;">For said repression’s release—manual and otherwise—we owe a debt to our pornographers. Or so the premise goes. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;">From here, as if in anticipation of the collective nose-holding such names still elicit among prudish readers, Edison makes haste to establish Hugh Hefner, Bob Guccione, Larry Flynt, and Al Goldstein as champions, not only of the beaver shot, but also, more importantly maybe, of free speech. But then you can’t have one without the other. No Free Speech fight, no beaver shot. For few have tested the First Amendment more rigorously than the smut peddler. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;">After this introduction, Edison then informs us that, of these Four Horsemen of Porn, “I want to tell you their story, and then some.” On this score, Edison delivers the goods. Pick up a copy of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dirty! Dirty! Dirty! </i></span><style>
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</style><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;">and read about Lenny Bruce, Little Annie Fanny, and Helen Gurley Brown, learn how the set of <i>Caligula </i>was even more decadent than the actual film, revel in Larry Flynt’s foul-mouthed antics before the Supreme Court, dig all this and a whole lot more.</span> </div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;"> As for the story-teller, we've got the right man on the job here. Go ahead, check his resume. Edison once edited <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Screw,</i> wrote girl-copy for the Crescent Publications family of fine smut rags (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cheri, High Society, Swank</i>, etc.), and claims to have penned dozens of pornographic novels. (What’s that you ask? What’s a ‘pornographic novel’? Well, imagine a dirty book, sold on a dirty newsstand… Er… What’s a newsstand? Aw… forget it.) So Edison possesses more than a little first-hand experience with his subject. Plus he’s pretty fuckin’ funny, and his brash narration, at its best, strikes a balance somewhere between seasoned journalist, borscht-belt comic, and titty-bar emcee. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;"> Elsewhere, however, Edison relies too heavily on that brashness, and his research seems a bit light. Much of the thrill of this sort of story comes from marvelling at the reporter's legwork. And sure, Edison bags many good quotes here, from Flynt, Paul Krassner, the Jr. Gooch, et. Al (Goldstein). Plus <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">D!D!D!</i> comes with a fairly extensive bibliography and footnotes on most pages. Yet Edison often uses the latter less like a tool for documentation than an opportunity for another aside, one where a few hopped-up similes work to convince us to not sweat the sources, Edison's good for it, he'll get us back tomorrow, don't worry about it. </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;"> But, in the end, these are minor gripes. After all, this ain’t a PhD dissertation. A sensational subject calls for a similarly sensational narration. The important thing is Edison perceives the big stuff, like the tragedy of fortune, and the prices paid by each of his Four Horsemen. </span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt;">And did I mention that he’s also pretty fuckin’ funny? </span>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-61535061308428463652012-01-24T10:00:00.000-05:002012-01-24T11:21:38.645-05:00Lowman Pauling & The "5" Royales<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5eEWJK97678/TxyxcHtiytI/AAAAAAAAA_A/3KMFYUlea5A/s1600/LowmanPauling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5eEWJK97678/TxyxcHtiytI/AAAAAAAAA_A/3KMFYUlea5A/s400/LowmanPauling.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"5" Royales in hot pink, 1 Lowman Pauling with Guitar Face</td></tr>
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This post is largely motivated by the recent circulation on the interwebz of the above photo. I mean, check it OUT! Pink dinner jackets! A black lacquer Duo Jet! Guitar Face! For the full run-down on R&B guitar legend L.P. & The "5" Royales, see <a href="http://thehoundblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/5-royales-and-lowman-pauling.html">the Hound's great post on the subject</a>. Oh yeah, and these two records kill. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-osjW06fK1X4/Txyxre2fo_I/AAAAAAAAA_I/t3It7-bZ_No/s1600/SayIt5Royales" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-osjW06fK1X4/Txyxre2fo_I/AAAAAAAAA_I/t3It7-bZ_No/s320/SayIt5Royales" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16629436-46b">Say It</a> - The "5" Royales<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aAdoAzxns-g/Txyy9PpE9yI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/NOlZtijgy5g/s1600/slummer" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aAdoAzxns-g/Txyy9PpE9yI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/NOlZtijgy5g/s1600/slummer" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16629419-a1c">The Slummer the Slum</a> - The "5" RoyalesBob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-23563237133982714882012-01-23T10:00:00.000-05:002012-01-23T10:00:11.758-05:00Weegee the FamousJanuary seems to be month of Weegee (nee Arthur Fellig, June 12, 1899 – December 26, 1968) here in New York, with two exhibitions of the fabled photog's work running concurrently, for the next few weeks, at least. <a href="http://stevenkasher.com/html/exhibitions.asp">The Steven Kasher Gallery</a>, at 521 West 23rd Street, currently features the exhibition "Weegee Naked City," scheduled to show from January 12 to February 25, 2012.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opP8C7KirbA/TxyrMk-1F-I/AAAAAAAAA-w/4WOs3OIUwpA/s1600/WeeGee1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-opP8C7KirbA/TxyrMk-1F-I/AAAAAAAAA-w/4WOs3OIUwpA/s400/WeeGee1" width="282" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DLXTWLaVI2U/TxyryP6U0eI/AAAAAAAAA-4/jwHBKX5N-_E/s1600/Weegee03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DLXTWLaVI2U/TxyryP6U0eI/AAAAAAAAA-4/jwHBKX5N-_E/s400/Weegee03.jpg" width="281" /></a></div>
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Meanwhile, at the International Center of Photography, at 1163 Avenue of the Americas, another show <a href="http://www.icp.org/museum/exhibitions/weegee-murder-my-business">"Weegee: Murder is My Business,"</a> just opened last week. It runs through September 2, 2012.<br />
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Each exhibition is extensive and unique. Fans of the original and possibly still the greatest photographer of New York's lost, hard-boiled, nocturnal life ought to enjoy them both.Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-40732582553131957892012-01-16T21:34:00.004-05:002012-01-16T21:40:29.753-05:00Jimmy Castor: June 23, 1947 - January 16, 2012"Trogolodyte (Cave Man)": My favorite jam at age 10. I wasn't too sure at the time what "sockittome" meant, but I always laughed at the name "Bertha Butt." Now who's Bertha Butt gonna sockitto? RIP Jimmy Castor.
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="367" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/JNS42Na2mpc" width="481"></iframe>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-46363564221428147042012-01-08T12:28:00.001-05:002012-01-08T17:54:19.351-05:00"The Death of Rock and Roll" ...Happy Birthday Elvis, That IsElvis Presley, January 8, 1935 - August 16, 1977. Was he King of Rock 'n' Roll, or its Kiss of Death? Does it matter either way at this point? He cut some fine records and had some mighty cool hair. So happy birthday Elvis. Here's a clip of his version of "I've Got a Woman."<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="367" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ELDW2giaoBM" width="481"></iframe>
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The Maddox Brothers and Rose re-did the tune as <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16535657-0f3">"The Death of Rock and Roll"</a> for Columbia Records in 1956, featuring Don Maddox on the lead vocal.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H7etH13hJIs/TwnRfzgwfhI/AAAAAAAAA-k/RopA0iKV6fM/s1600/2759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H7etH13hJIs/TwnRfzgwfhI/AAAAAAAAA-k/RopA0iKV6fM/s320/2759.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Finally, here's a clip of ol' Don Maddox doing "The Death of Rock and Roll" in 2011 (!!) at last year's Hillbillyfest, supported by Deke Dickerson and Dave Stuckey.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="367" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/3gjoBSodyYE" width="481"></iframe>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-14518730776579375802012-01-07T12:23:00.001-05:002012-01-07T12:23:25.264-05:00Moon Mullican on the TeeVee!<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="367" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ry745OAWAD8" width="481"></iframe>
Moon bangs out a quick version of "Cherokee Boogie" for the cameras. He's introduced by country crooner George Morgan, on Morgan's television show (anyone know it was called?), from probably 1956-1957.Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-16736836677720195292012-01-02T12:00:00.000-05:002012-01-31T10:33:27.986-05:00Charlie Ryan: Of Okies, Arkies, and Hot Rod Rockets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJVt29JqWmg/Tv8xDwmjAYI/AAAAAAAAA8w/6TVl5Ignhio/s1600/charlie_4starpromo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BJVt29JqWmg/Tv8xDwmjAYI/AAAAAAAAA8w/6TVl5Ignhio/s320/charlie_4starpromo2.jpg" width="272" /></a></div>
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Our story begins with what is, by now, familiar history: From out of the dust bowl of the 1930’s poured a great, westward moving horde. An entire generation of Okies, Arkies, Linkhorns, and Panhandlers crowded into jalopies, hopped freights, stuck out their thumbs, and wore out shoe-leather—those, that is, who didn’t simply roam the barren barefoot—all bound for the mythical sugar bowl of California. They settled in towns like Fresno, Stockton, Bakersfield, Compton, and San Pedro. These places became the new hillbilly enclaves of the west, booming through World War II and tuning into Town Hall Party. <br />
Charlie Ryan was not among them—at least, not until later, when his records would land in their jukeboxes and his boots would scuff their stages. <br />
Ryan was born in Graceville, Minnesota, December 19, 1915, several years and several hundred miles safely beyond the reach of the “Black Blizzards” of prairie dust. Another son of 20th Century American mobility, Ryan likewise moved west, first to Polson, Montana, where the young singer/guitar-picker formed his first group, The Montana Range Riders. He eventually settled in Spokane, Washington, in 1943, according to once source. Another claims that the Range Riders took their first regular engagement at a Spokane joint called the Bell Tavern as early as 1935. One thing we do know is that Ryan was calling his band the Timberlines by the late 40’s. In 1950 he wrote his signature song.<br />
<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16489274-162">“Hot Rod Lincoln”</a> was essentially another talking blues in the old Chris<br />
Bouchillon/Woody Guthrie tradition—Guthrie, the original “Do-Re-Mi” man, knew a<br />
little something about Okies and Arkies. More specifically, Ryan’s song borrowed heavily from the work of yet another Arkie, in this case Arkie Shibley, whose “Hot Rod Race” was released in 1950 on the Gilt-Edge label and peaked at #5 on the country charts. What’s more, Shibley had also relocated to Spokane, and as fate would have it, his and Ryan’s tire tracks would cross. <br />
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<a name='more'></a> Shibley’s “Hot Rod Race” was quickly followed by “Hot Rod Race No. 2,” and “Hot Rod Race No. 3." Arkies, Okies, talking blues, speed…Had the world gained some new thing under the sun? The Arkie Hot Rod genre was born. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PBovsoZsDIE/Tv8zZCkiqBI/AAAAAAAAA9g/smVD-MCAueA/s1600/GrapevineHill.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PBovsoZsDIE/Tv8zZCkiqBI/AAAAAAAAA9g/smVD-MCAueA/s320/GrapevineHill.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Grapevine Hill</td></tr>
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In typical gear-head fashion, Ryan simply modified the stock version to get his “Hot Rod Lincoln.” The song was inspired, so the story goes, by Ryan’s own experiences, particularly his frequent road-trips to play the Paradise Club in Lewiston, Idaho. Some tell of Ryan’s own ’41 Lincoln one night chasing a Cadillac up the Lewiston Grade—and the telephone poles there looked like picket fences. And yet, presumably in tribute to Shibley’s record, to which he owed a great debt, Ryan likewise set his tale on the Grapevine Hill, in San Pedro, CA, set it, that is, right in the heart of Town Hall Party’s broadcast range. <br />
And so, it might be said that with a lifted verse and a boogie guitar, Charlie<br />
Ryan joined that westward rushing horde.<br />
Ryan and his band—now called the Timberline Riders—first recorded “Hot Rod Lincoln” in 1955, releasing it on the Souvenir label. This version pretty much sank without notice, except that it did eventually catch the ear of 4-Star Records, who re-released it near the end of 1959. It became on of the biggest country hits of 1960.<br />
<i>Billboard Magazine</i> described it: “Hot Rod Lincoln—Charlie Ryan tells the story of the souped-up Lincoln and what happens when it tries to pass a Cadillac. Interesting wax that has a sound and a chance. Watch it.”<br />
About the record’s sound, Nick Tosches, in <i>Country: The Biggest Music in America</i> (Stein & Day, 1977), wrote “steel guitarist Neal Livingston wrought sounds of speed, sirens, and whiplash behind Ryan’s tough boogie beat and amphetamine vocal. Ryan had been playing, in his phrase, ‘country music with a beat’ since about 1947.” <br />
What Tosches described was for Charlie Ryan and the Timberline Riders a formula for a string of follow-up singles. “Hot Rod Lincoln” gave birth to “Hot Rod Hades,” “Hot Rod Guitar,” “Side Car Cycle,” et. al. But Ryan and the boys never again achieved the chart success of that first hit. Nevertheless, with that string of singles, the saga of that fabled ’41 Lincoln went serial. <br />
In October 1960, 4-Star released <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16489401-342">“Side Car Cycle”</a> b/w <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16489410-134http://www.divshare.com/download/16489410-134">“Steel Rock”</a>. Instrumentally speaking, the A-side nearly replicated its predecessor, but this time Ryan’s “amphetamine vocal” told of another joyride, one fueled by Union 76, sure, but also by the singer’s desire to put “the miles between me’n jail.” But, lo, along came some dame “stacked like a sack of barley” riding that side-car Harley. She poked fun, and another race ensued. The Hot Rod Lincoln put her in a hell of a pickle and she quit ridin’ that side-car sickle. The B-side instrumental featured swinging back-and-forth action, with the steel and that “tough boogie guitar” swapping licks. The record made the Billboard Top 100, but ultimately fizzled. <br />
Around this time <i>Billboard</i> reported that “Charlie Ryan is back in Spokane, Wash., after a two-week tour with Jim Reeves, Ferlin Husky, and Johnny Horton…Most of the trek was spent in Canada…Ryan had his 12-cylinder hot-rod Lincoln with him on tour to promote the song.”<br />
Formulaic follow-up singles and side-show gimmicks: American Show-biz at work. <br />
Still borrowing heavily from Shibley, but adding more inventive titles and premises, Ryan took another crack with the serial’s next installment. <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16489449-8fd">“Hot Rod Hades,”</a> from 1961, offered a warning about the grim afterlife awaiting the unrepentant speed demon. The flip, <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16489436-cd8">“Hot Rod Guitar,”</a> proved again that those B-side instros could hold their own. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eRXXwinNGVI/Tv814dj6pHI/AAAAAAAAA9s/oYAhUbo8GVM/s1600/Hot+Rod+-+Front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eRXXwinNGVI/Tv814dj6pHI/AAAAAAAAA9s/oYAhUbo8GVM/s320/Hot+Rod+-+Front.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Then, in June of 1963, Ryan released a straight cover of “Hot Rod Race,” a tribute to Shibley, his primogenitor in hot rod boogie. It was coupled with… a re-release of “Hot Rod Lincoln.” Ryan’s hot rod was running out of gas. And this when Rock ‘n’ Roll stood on the verge of being invaded not by Okies, nor even Arkies, but by funny-talkin’ Europeans in need of haircuts. But that’s just more familiar history. <br />
Charlie Ryan was more concerned with another foreign threat. <br />
Who could be better suited to whup the Ruskies than a speed-talkin’, boogie-beatin’ hot-rodder, he who embodied American Know-How, that noble virtue that could help rescue a man from a dust bowl, hop up a ’41 Lincoln, milk a show-biz gimmick, and woo a girl “stacked like a sack of barley”? That’s who you want on your side in a tale of Cold War conflict like <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16489458-631">“Hot Rod Rocket.”</a> Clearly, Charlie Ryan didn’t shy away from topical material. And yet, the tale, like that war itself, remained unresolved by the end of the side. <br />
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<i>Countries are bettin' and the stakes are high<br />on just who is gonna rule the sky.<br />Now this is not the end of this here race,<br />cause that hot rod cat's still out in space.</i></div>
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<br />Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-32369714624542101132011-12-31T12:02:00.000-05:002011-12-31T12:02:05.041-05:00Auld Lang Syne<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bj8_RQWZPrI/Tv89WqoOAQI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/ASzbNepxKmw/s1600/weegee_new-year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bj8_RQWZPrI/Tv89WqoOAQI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/ASzbNepxKmw/s400/weegee_new-year.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Weegee</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Happy New Year! from Gemini Spacecraft. May your '12 play the Dozens not too harshly with you. And steer clear of this guy (below) tonight...</span><br />
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<br />Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-5564518988380426622011-12-25T10:00:00.001-05:002011-12-31T11:44:35.488-05:00"I Better Get Them Cha-Cha Heels...!"<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="330" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uDie8goaBDU" width="480"></iframe>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-52825519276069263592011-12-24T17:30:00.000-05:002011-12-24T17:30:00.968-05:00Happy Holidays from the Gemini Spacecraft Crew<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-9322665268934056952011-12-24T10:00:00.000-05:002011-12-31T11:44:59.051-05:00Jingle Jangle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Penguins -- <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16425575-a9f">Jingle Jangle</a>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-3199116552690539562011-12-23T10:00:00.000-05:002011-12-31T11:45:21.115-05:00Christmas in Jail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Youngsters -- <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16425556-5c6">Christmas in Jail</a>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-81273598071304736582011-12-18T11:01:00.000-05:002011-12-18T11:43:44.414-05:00Happy Birthday Keef<span style="font-size: large;">"Televisions are boring anyway..." Note the camera crew visible in some of these shots. Of "Cocksucker Blues," the documentary of the Stones 1972 tour of the U.S., filmmaker Robert Frank has said that most of the stunts were staged, largely because if he'd simply filmed what was really going on no one would have believed it. Keith Richards, sixty-eight years old today. Believe that. </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/SOA3cJ8Y2As" width="465"></iframe>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-69696317169854393992011-11-24T12:00:00.000-05:002011-11-24T12:00:06.202-05:00Turkey Neck Stretch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1XsjUNetHYQ/Ts5joVDuLYI/AAAAAAAAA5g/qDW7xBruLBE/s1600/TurkeyNeck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1XsjUNetHYQ/Ts5joVDuLYI/AAAAAAAAA5g/qDW7xBruLBE/s320/TurkeyNeck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16254626-dce">Turkey Neck Stretch</a> - Gradie O'Neal and the Bella Tones, 1958.Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-38059360981872085402011-11-24T10:00:00.005-05:002011-11-24T10:00:53.534-05:00Lee Harvey Oswald: "They Say He Shot the President"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='470' height='416' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ma9DwoOnGT8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Lee Harvey Oswald, <span class="st">October 18, 1939 – November 24, 1963. </span><br />
<span class="st">"Lee Harvey was a Friend of Mine" - Homer Henderson, released 198?.</span>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-14521366007682024372011-11-20T10:00:00.006-05:002011-12-02T16:44:33.076-05:00Hillbilly Hayride #5: Caffeine & Nicotine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XHWev5Hhu2M/Tsgl87CwLNI/AAAAAAAAA5I/jy7K8d-8lEo/s1600/Caffeine%2526Nicotine" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317px" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XHWev5Hhu2M/Tsgl87CwLNI/AAAAAAAAA5I/jy7K8d-8lEo/s320/Caffeine%2526Nicotine" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Curtis Gordon - <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16212655-c90">Caffeine & Nicotine</a>, released June, 1954. </span> </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-isr8bz0Bf7Y/TsgmBghS3EI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/pEnZHP-6l6I/s1600/CurtisGordon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-isr8bz0Bf7Y/TsgmBghS3EI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/pEnZHP-6l6I/s320/CurtisGordon.jpg" width="250px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo of C.G. courtesy Rockin' Country Style </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286533675204442403.post-6278581843428653612011-11-12T10:00:00.011-05:002011-11-23T20:25:18.310-05:00Vernon Green & The Medallions: Of Puppettutes and Pizmotalities<style>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EeY3uvQpvAo/Trnkwdxf3XI/AAAAAAAAA5A/YO8Ctolm7Zw/s1600/medallions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400px" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EeY3uvQpvAo/Trnkwdxf3XI/AAAAAAAAA5A/YO8Ctolm7Zw/s400/medallions.jpg" width="325px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vernon Green at 6 o'clock.</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">Much has already been said regarding the true meaning of “sweet pizmotality” and “the puppettutes of love” as these phrases were uttered by the Medallions on their 1954 single <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16137425-342">“The Letter.”</a> Many have speculated on their etymology--or should we say "etyzmotality"? Some trace that jive back to the ancients, still others to the label on cans of Royal Crown Hair Dressing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">Of his own enigmatic lyric, Medallions lead man Vernon Green once said, “You have to remember, I was a very lonely guy at the time. I was only fourteen years old, I had just run away from home, and I walked on crutches.” Teener love eluded young Green, whose body had been wracked by polio at an early age. And so, between joyrides and acne creams, he dreamed of other-wordly things. From these dreams he wrought doo-wop gold. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">As a single, <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16137421-2f4">"Buick 59"</a> b/w "The Letter," on the DooTone label, might perfectly illustrate that old schizoid doo-wop formula, where a revved-up rocker on the A-side was almost always coupled with a ballad, often a sappy one at that, on the B-side. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">For more on that let us refer to the September 1954 installment of “Notes from the R&B Beat” </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">(does anyone know the original source for this column?) </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">as compiled in Galen Gart’s incredible serial <i>First Pressings: The History of Rhythm & Blues</i>:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BYyo4wJZEh0/TrnkXo8YRLI/AAAAAAAAA44/MO7wfUg77lQ/s1600/DooToneAd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BYyo4wJZEh0/TrnkXo8YRLI/AAAAAAAAA44/MO7wfUg77lQ/s400/DooToneAd.jpg" width="172px" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">“After seven years of trying to break into the record market with a big hit, Dootsie Williams, prexy of DooTone Records has at long last come up with a big one. His latest waxing of ‘Buick 59’ b/w ‘The Letter’ by the Medallions has cracked wide open here in L.A. and it’s still a toss-up as to which side is the biggest. Spinner Hunter Hancock picked both sides of the disk as his ‘Record of the Week’.”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">All of this happened when the imaginative balladeer was just a kid, and that kid knew that nothin’ could shake the heartbreak of frustrated pizmotalities better than a fine set of wheels. The most Cruise-O-Matic of Medallions sides, “Buick 59” and <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/16135819-76d">“Speedin,”</a> (there were others: "' 59 Volvo" "Push Button Automobile" etc., etc.,) don’t merely describe so much as they sonically re-enact in full doo-wop glory the thrill of burning a “tankful of ethyl gas.” For these exploits, Green, ever the dreamer, even invented a car that didn’t yet exist. In fact, it would never exist. No Buick 59 ever rolled off the line in Detroit, or anywhere else. But if it had, then you know that bucket would have burned only high-grade pizmotane. Nothing but the best when your puppettutes is ridin’ by your side. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">In “Speedin’,” released after “Buick 59,” also on the DooTone label, the premise is simple enough: the singer’s gotta meet that girl, so he’s “Speedin’! Doo-do-do-do-doo.” However, without gas, even a Buick 59 becomes just another hoopdie. Green’s bucket always either runs out of gas, blows a tire, or the cops catch up to it just before it carries him to that dreamed-of Shangri-La. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BT6o_hNTUQY/TrnkU3iEcHI/AAAAAAAAA4w/orFkAJio7rE/s1600/DooToneSpeedin" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313px" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BT6o_hNTUQY/TrnkU3iEcHI/AAAAAAAAA4w/orFkAJio7rE/s320/DooToneSpeedin" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">It’s the classic American bummer: fulfillment of desire remains always just beyond reach. Behind the dream lies emptiness, a lonely crockashit. </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">After the early singles, as Green’s performances matured, we begin to hear real desolation, as in the ghostly <a href="http://www.divshare.com/download/13904707-00c">“Sweet Breeze,”</a> from 1956 on the Specialty label, credited not to the Medallions, but to Vernon Green and the Phantoms. Here, Green didn’t have to invent goofy words to say it: </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">The wind has a feeling and a soul.</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;"> I trust in thee, but please don’t be cold.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The sweet, sweet breeze</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">blows softly through her golden hair.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Tell me, does she really, really care?</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">It just isn't fair. </span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica;">Gone is the Clearasil, gone the greasy kid stuff, and the remedial math of matrimony. In the end there’s only the wind, that, and maybe a can of Royal Crown Hair Dressing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Bob Pomeroyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06706867947611308784noreply@blogger.com0