Podcasts about mgm records

Label: MGM 13567Year: 1966Condition: M-Price: $20.00British singer Farlowe had success with a number of Jagger-Richards compositions in the mid-1960's, including this one also produced by Mick Jagger. Jagger has brought in arranger Art Greenslade for this recording, who adds some very effective and arty touches to the lesser-known Stones classic. Check out the mp3 "snippet" of the song. "Out Of Time" was on the U.K. version of the Stones LP Aftermath, but it was left off of the U.S. version for some reason, winding up on a compilation LP the following year. The Stones didn't release the song as a single, letting Farlowe's Jagger-produced version become a #1 hit in the U.K. and producing his only brush with the U.S. Hot 100. In the U.S., Farlowe's 45 was a non-album single. Note: This beautiful copy has a drillhole and comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It grades Near Mint across the board (Labels, Vinyl, Audio).

Label: MGM 13813 djYear: 1967Condition: M-Price: $16.00From a warehouse find, this is a new, unplayed promo copy, in its original factory sleeve. Sunshine Pop lovers of the world unite! Here's a Greenaway-Cook rarity that will keep your toe tappin' and your mouth smilin'. This was the group's last single on Co & Ce, and unfortunately never made it onto Top 40 playlists. When MGM picked up the Co & Ce catalog, they released this one Vogues single. It would be a year and a half before the group re-emerged on Warner Bros.' Reprise label to score a couple of hits in 1968-69. Note: This copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve.

Label: MGM 13721Year: 1967Condition: M-Last Price: $20.00. Not currently available for sale.Credited to "Eric Burdon & The Animals," this is the group's finest foray into psychedelic rock. Every time I hear the opening guitar growl, it's obvious where Black Sabbath got the inspiration for the similar opening growl to "Iron Man." Now in the Classic 45's jukebox, cause it's one of those nuggets that just doesn't get played often enough. The big mystery to me is why Dave Marsh left it off his list of the 1,001 greatest 45s of Rock'n'Soul. It would definitely be on my list (if I ever make one!) For one thing, this is a single that was not included on any contemporary Animals album ? this was a previously unreleased, non-LP single. The two sides eventually got added to an Animals compilation CD, but you won't find them anywhere on vinyl (to my knowledge) except on this little 45 record. (And may I say how incredible the audio is? Stunning doesn't come close!) Note: This beautiful copy has a drillhole and comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. The vinyl has some notable scuffs, particularly on the B side, grading a strong EX. Miraculously, the audio comes through clean Near Mint with just a touch of surface noise here and there. (This scan is a representative image from our archives--the copy for sale has NO drillhole)

As the final entry in this year's Black History Month episodes, my dear friend Previn Moore introduces his Listeners' Favorites choice, an episode I published in the early months of Countermelody back in the fall of 2019. It features two phenomenal Black sopranos whose friendship and mentorship Previn outlines in detail in an introductory interview I did with him at his home in Vienna this past week. This episode features the phenomenal, the legendary, the pathbreaking soprano Camilla Williams (1919-2012), whom Previn first met as a young tenor at Indiana University's School of Music, where Miss Williams was the first African American teacher of singing to serve on the faculty. While there, Previn also formed a lifelong friendship with Camilla's student, Janet Williams, who herself went on to a brilliant worldwide career, including twelve years as a leading soprano with the Staatsoper Unter den Linden here in Berlin. Janet and I met as fellow students in the Merola Opera Program of the San Francisco Opera and it has been my joy and a privilege to share a treasured friendship with her ever since. In tribute to both of these extraordinary sopranos, I offer a cache of rare studio recordings by Camilla Williams, supplemented by live material sung by Janet Williams from the artist's private archives. Included among the selections are excerpts from Camilla's rarely-heard album of spirituals on the MGM Records label, and a concert given by Janet Williams in her home town of Detroit in 1989, capped by a stunning rendition of Undine Smith Moore's arrangement of the spiritual “Watch and Pray,” dedicated to Camilla Williams. Many thanks to Previn, Janet, and the extraordinary Camilla Williams for their shining examples and for their dedicated artistry.

Label: MGM 12713Year: 1958Condition: M-Price: $30.00Wow! I almost put this one in the rockabilly category... terrific rockabilly guitar accompanies Connie as she belts out this uncharacteristically tough rock'n'roll number, an early composition credit for Neil Sedaka. Note: This beautiful copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It grades very close to Mint across the board (Labels, Vinyl, Audio).

NIMH Ep #621 Clarence Avant, ‘The Black Godfather' of music, dies at 92. According to USA Today Clarence Avant, the executive and businessman known as “The Black Godfather” of music and entertainment, died Sunday at 92. Avant died at his Los Angeles home, his son Alex Avant, daughter Nicole Avant and son-in-law Ted Sarandos shared in a statement Monday. “It is with a heavy heart that the Avant/Sarandos family announce the passing of Clarence Alexander Avant,” the family said. “Through his revolutionary business leadership, Clarence became affectionately known as ‘The Black Godfather' in the worlds of music, entertainment, politics, and sports.” Avant's family added: “Clarence leaves behind a loving family and a sea of friends and associates that have changed the world and will continue to change the world for generations to come. The joy of his legacy eases the sorrow of our loss.” Avant's first foray into steering a record label came in 1967 with Venture Records, originally founded as an outlet for the soul recording artists on MGM Records. Venture Records lasted only two years, but Avant was ready to jump to his next assignment: helping to broker the sale of legendary Stax Records, which he did in 1968, before founding Sussex Records. Sussex, however, folded in 1975 after the IRS auctioned off the company's assets due to $48,000 in federal tax liens. In 2019, Avant received the Industry Icon Award as the honoree at fellow music mogul Clive Davis' annual Pre-Grammy Gala. “Clarence Avant was truly one of a kind. His passing is a great loss of someone who is irreplaceable,” Davis told USA TODAY in a statement Monday. “Clarence's extraordinary contribution to music and the barriers he broke throughout his career are unrivaled. He was the mentor to all Black executives in the music industry for decades, providing invaluable guidance and support while always standing up for equal rights. Clarence was humane and fair and inspired love and respect from all who knew him. I personally loved him and will miss him forever.” #ClarenceAvant #Vansilk1127 --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/van-silk/support

Label: MGM 13379Year: 1965Condition: M-Last Price: $15.00. Not currently available for sale.A must-have dance number from 1965! Note: This beautiful copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It grades Near Mint across the board (Labels, Vinyl, Audio), with only very minor flaws.

Label: MGM 13322Year: 1965Condition: M-Price: $40.00Here's a beautiful copy of the original MGM pressing of this swamp-rock classic. These tracks had earlier been released on the small Texas label XL, a 45 that could fetch $1,000 or more if you find a Near Mint copy! :-) Besides the well-known and -loved A side, which Dave Marsh pegs at #78 in his Top 1,001 singles list, be sure to check out the totally cool blues-rock performance on the flip. This is precisely the kind of sound that British groups like the Animals and Stones were striving for at the time and is one of the foundations of what became known as "Garage Rock." (Check out the mp3 snippet we've added to our "jukebox.") By the way, this very short (2:05!) B side wasn't included on any of Sam The Sham's albums... it was a non-album cut available only this 45. Note: This copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It has Mint labels and Near Mint-looking vinyl with just a few light scuffs. I'm delighted to report that both sides of this important single have nearly pristine audio — and man, is it a big sound!

BATMAN: The Animated Series   Robin's Reckoning Part 1   During a fight with some gangsters at a construction yard, Batman and Robin learn the name of their boss: Billy Marin. While Robin looks forward to going up against Marin, Batman becomes distant, and after a falling out at the Batcave, Batman doesn't allow Robin to accompany him on the search for Marin. Robin investigates on the Batcomputer, and soon realizes that Billy Marin is not the boss' real name. Rather, it is an alias of Tony Zucco, the man who killed his parents (which Batman already knew, but chose not to tell Robin).   Robin's Reckoning Part 2   Angered by Batman's deceit, Robin sets out to find Tony Zucco on his own, all the while plagued by the memories of his parents' death and how Bruce took him in as his own son. Eventually, Batman manages to find Zucco at an old amusement park, but breaks his leg during the fight. Robin finally arrives and prepares to kill Zucco in revenge.   Night of the Ninja   A mysterious ninja is robbing Wayne Enterprises subsidiaries, and Batman discovers that the ninja is actually his equal in combat. A grudge against Bruce Wayne and skills to match him can only mean one person: Kyodai Ken, an old rival of Wayne's teacher from his days in Japan, and who was thrown out of the dojo after attempting to rob it, only to be stopped by Wayne. Ken, it turns out, wants revenge.     Cat Scratch Fever   Batman must stop Roland Daggett's plan to release a viral plague designed by Professor Milo into Gotham by way of its stray cat population. The case gains new urgency when Catwoman becomes infected with the virus during her search for her missing cat, Isis. Now, Batman must find an antidote to save the woman who loves him most. Opening Credits; Introduction (1.29); Episode One Robin's Reckoning Part 1 & 2 (22.52); Episode Two:  Night of the Ninja (42.33); Episode Three:  Cat Scratch Fever (53.20); Favourite Character (1:06.58); Favourite Episode (1;13.41);Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel (1:20.08); Closing Credits (1:21.00)   Opening Credits– Batman Animated Theme by Danny Elfman.  Copyright 1992 Warner Music    Closing Credits:  Boy Wonder, I Love You by Burt Ward and Frank Zappa.  Copyright 1966 MGM Records. ​ Original Music copyrighted 2020 Dan Hughes Music and the Literary License Podcast.    All rights reserved.  Used with Kind Permission.   All songs available through Amazon Music.

Episode 164 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "White Light/White Heat" and the career of the Velvet Underground. This is a long one, lasting three hours and twenty minutes. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a twenty-three minute bonus episode available, on "Why Don't You Smile Now?" by the Downliners Sect. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Errata I say the Velvet Underground didn't play New York for the rest of the sixties after 1966. They played at least one gig there in 1967, but did generally avoid the city. Also, I refer to Cale and Conrad as the other surviving members of the Theater of Eternal Music. Sadly Conrad died in 2016. Resources No Mixcloud this week, as there are too many songs by the Velvet Underground, and some of the avant-garde pieces excerpted run to six hours or more. I used a lot of resources for this one. Up-Tight: The Velvet Underground Story by Victor Bockris and Gerard Malanga is the best book on the group as a group. I also used Joe Harvard's 33 1/3 book on The Velvet Underground and Nico. Bockris also wrote one of the two biographies of Reed I referred to, Transformer. The other was Lou Reed by Anthony DeCurtis. Information on Cale mostly came from Sedition and Alchemy by Tim Mitchell. Information on Nico came from Nico: The Life and Lies of an Icon by Richard Witts. I used Draw a Straight Line and Follow it by Jeremy Grimshaw as my main source for La Monte Young, The Roaring Silence by David Revill for John Cage, and Warhol: A Life as Art by Blake Gopnik for Warhol. I also referred to the Criterion Collection Blu-Ray of the 2021 documentary The Velvet Underground.  The definitive collection of the Velvet Underground's music is the sadly out-of-print box set Peel Slowly and See, which contains the four albums the group made with Reed in full, plus demos, outtakes, and live recordings. Note that the digital version of the album as sold by Amazon for some reason doesn't include the last disc -- if you want the full box set you have to buy a physical copy. All four studio albums have also been released and rereleased many times over in different configurations with different numbers of CDs at different price points -- I have used the "45th Anniversary Super-Deluxe" versions for this episode, but for most people the standard CD versions will be fine. Sadly there are no good shorter compilation overviews of the group -- they tend to emphasise either the group's "pop" mode or its "avant-garde" mode to the exclusion of the other. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Before I begin this episode, there are a few things to say. This introductory section is going to be longer than normal because, as you will hear, this episode is also going to be longer than normal. Firstly, I try to warn people about potentially upsetting material in these episodes. But this is the first episode for 1968, and as you will see there is a *profound* increase in the amount of upsetting and disturbing material covered as we go through 1968 and 1969. The story is going to be in a much darker place for the next twenty or thirty episodes. And this episode is no exception. As always, I try to deal with everything as sensitively as possible, but you should be aware that the list of warnings for this one is so long I am very likely to have missed some. Among the topics touched on in this episode are mental illness, drug addiction, gun violence, racism, societal and medical homophobia, medical mistreatment of mental illness, domestic abuse, rape, and more. If you find discussion of any of those subjects upsetting, you might want to read the transcript. Also, I use the term "queer" freely in this episode. In the past I have received some pushback for this, because of a belief among some that "queer" is a slur. The following explanation will seem redundant to many of my listeners, but as with many of the things I discuss in the podcast I am dealing with multiple different audiences with different levels of awareness and understanding of issues, so I'd like to beg those people's indulgence a moment. The term "queer" has certainly been used as a slur in the past, but so have terms like "lesbian", "gay", "homosexual" and others. In all those cases, the term has gone from a term used as a self-identifier, to a slur, to a reclaimed slur, and back again many times. The reason for using that word, specifically, here is because the vast majority of people in this story have sexualities or genders that don't match the societal norms of their times, but used labels for themselves that have shifted in meaning over the years. There are at least two men in the story, for example, who are now dead and referred to themselves as "homosexual", but were in multiple long-term sexually-active relationships with women. Would those men now refer to themselves as "bisexual" or "pansexual" -- terms not in widespread use at the time -- or would they, in the relatively more tolerant society we live in now, only have been in same-gender relationships? We can't know. But in our current context using the word "homosexual" for those men would lead to incorrect assumptions about their behaviour. The labels people use change over time, and the definitions of them blur and shift. I have discussed this issue with many, many, friends who fall under the queer umbrella, and while not all of them are comfortable with "queer" as a personal label because of how it's been used against them in the past, there is near-unanimity from them that it's the correct word to use in this situation. Anyway, now that that rather lengthy set of disclaimers is over, let's get into the story proper, as we look at "White Light, White Heat" by the Velvet Underground: [Excerpt: The Velvet Underground, "White Light, White Heat"] And that look will start with... a disclaimer about length. This episode is going to be a long one. Not as long as episode one hundred and fifty, but almost certainly the longest episode I'll do this year, by some way. And there's a reason for that. One of the questions I've been asked repeatedly over the years about the podcast is why almost all the acts I've covered have been extremely commercially successful ones. "Where are the underground bands? The alternative bands? The little niche acts?" The answer to that is simple. Until the mid-sixties, the idea of an underground or alternative band made no sense at all in rock, pop, rock and roll, R&B, or soul. The idea would have been completely counterintuitive to the vast majority of the people we've discussed in the podcast. Those musics were commercial musics, made by people who wanted to make money and to  get the largest audiences possible. That doesn't mean that they had no artistic merit, or that there was no artistic intent behind them, but the artists making that music were *commercial* artists. They knew if they wanted to make another record, they had to sell enough copies of the last record for the record company to make another, and that if they wanted to keep eating, they had to draw enough of an audience to their gigs for promoters to keep booking them. There was no space in this worldview for what we might think of as cult success. If your record only sold a thousand copies, then you had failed in your goal, even if the thousand people who bought your record really loved it. Even less commercially successful artists we've covered to this point, like the Mothers of Invention or Love, were *trying* for commercial success, even if they made the decision not to compromise as much as others do. This started to change a tiny bit in the mid-sixties as the influence of jazz and folk in the US, and the British blues scene, started to be felt in rock music. But this influence, at first, was a one-way thing -- people who had been in the folk and jazz worlds deciding to modify their music to be more commercial. And that was followed by already massively commercial musicians, like the Beatles, taking on some of those influences and bringing their audience with them. But that started to change around the time that "rock" started to differentiate itself from "rock and roll" and "pop", in mid 1967. So in this episode and the next, we're going to look at two bands who in different ways provided a model for how to be an alternative band. Both of them still *wanted* commercial success, but neither achieved it, at least not at first and not in the conventional way. And both, when they started out, went by the name The Warlocks. But we have to take a rather circuitous route to get to this week's band, because we're now properly introducing a strand of music that has been there in the background for a while -- avant-garde art music. So before we go any further, let's have a listen to a thirty-second clip of the most famous piece of avant-garde music ever, and I'll be performing it myself: [Excerpt, Andrew Hickey "4'33 (Cage)"] Obviously that won't give the full effect, you have to listen to the whole piece to get that. That is of course a section of "4'33" by John Cage, a piece of music that is often incorrectly described as being four minutes and thirty three seconds of silence. As I've mentioned before, though, in the episode on "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag", it isn't that at all. The whole point of the piece is that there is no such thing as silence, and it's intended to make the listener appreciate all the normal ambient sounds as music, every bit as much as any piece by Bach or Beethoven. John Cage, the composer of "4'33", is possibly the single most influential avant-garde artist of the mid twentieth century, so as we're properly introducing the ideas of avant-garde music into the story here, we need to talk about him a little. Cage was, from an early age, torn between three great vocations, all of which in some fashion would shape his work for decades to come. One of these was architecture, and for a time he intended to become an architect. Another was the religious ministry, and he very seriously considered becoming a minister as a young man, and religion -- though not the religious faith of his youth -- was to be a massive factor in his work as he grew older. He started studying music from an early age, though he never had any facility as a performer -- though he did, when he discovered the work of Grieg, think that might change. He later said “For a while I played nothing else. I even imagined devoting my life to the performance of his works alone, for they did not seem to me to be too difficult, and I loved them.” [Excerpt: Grieg piano concerto in A minor] But he soon realised that he didn't have some of the basic skills that would be required to be a performer -- he never actually thought of himself as very musical -- and so he decided to move into composition, and he later talked about putting his musical limits to good use in being more inventive. From his very first pieces, Cage was trying to expand the definition of what a performance of a piece of music actually was. One of his friends, Harry Hay, who took part in the first documented performance of a piece by Cage, described how Cage's father, an inventor, had "devised a fluorescent light source over which Sample" -- Don Sample, Cage's boyfriend at the time -- "laid a piece of vellum painted with designs in oils. The blankets I was wearing were white, and a sort of lampshade shone coloured patterns onto me. It looked very good. The thing got so hot the designs began to run, but that only made it better.” Apparently the audience for this light show -- one that predated the light shows used by rock bands by a good thirty years -- were not impressed, though that may be more because the Santa Monica Women's Club in the early 1930s was not the vanguard of the avant-garde. Or maybe it was. Certainly the housewives of Santa Monica seemed more willing than one might expect to sign up for another of Cage's ideas. In 1933 he went door to door asking women if they would be interested in signing up to a lecture course from him on modern art and music. He told them that if they signed up for $2.50, he would give them ten lectures, and somewhere between twenty and forty of them signed up, even though, as he said later, “I explained to the housewives that I didn't know anything about either subject but that I was enthusiastic about both of them. I promised to learn faithfully enough about each subject so as to be able to give a talk an hour long each week.” And he did just that, going to the library every day and spending all week preparing an hour-long talk for them. History does not relate whether he ended these lectures by telling the housewives to tell just one friend about them. He said later “I came out of these lectures, with a devotion to the painting of Mondrian, on the one hand, and the music of Schoenberg on the other.” [Excerpt: Schoenberg, "Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte"] Schoenberg was one of the two most widely-respected composers in the world at that point, the other being Stravinsky, but the two had very different attitudes to composition. Schoenberg's great innovation was the creation and popularisation of the twelve-tone technique, and I should probably explain that a little before I go any further. Most Western music is based on an eight-note scale -- do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do -- with the eighth note being an octave up from the first. So in the key of C major that would be C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C: [demonstrates] And when you hear notes from that scale, if your ears are accustomed to basically any Western music written before about 1920, or any Western popular music written since then, you expect the melody to lead back to C, and you know to expect that because it only uses those notes -- there are differing intervals between them, some having a tone between them and some having a semitone, and you recognise the pattern. But of course there are other notes between the notes of that scale. There are actually an infinite number of these, but in conventional Western music we only look at a few more -- C# (or D flat), D# (or E flat), F# (or G flat), G# (or A flat) and A# (or B flat). If you add in all those notes you get this: [demonstrates] There's no clear beginning or end, no do for it to come back to. And Schoenberg's great innovation, which he was only starting to promote widely around this time, was to insist that all twelve notes should be equal -- his melodies would use all twelve of the notes the exact same number of times, and so if he used say a B flat, he would have to use all eleven other notes before he used B flat again in the piece. This was a radical new idea, but Schoenberg had only started advancing it after first winning great acclaim for earlier pieces, like his "Three Pieces for Piano", a work which wasn't properly twelve-tone, but did try to do without the idea of having any one note be more important than any other: [Excerpt: Schoenberg, "Three Pieces for Piano"] At this point, that work had only been performed in the US by one performer, Richard Buhlig, and hadn't been released as a recording yet. Cage was so eager to hear it that he'd found Buhlig's phone number and called him, asking him to play the piece, but Buhlig put the phone down on him. Now he was doing these lectures, though, he had to do one on Schoenberg, and he wasn't a competent enough pianist to play Schoenberg's pieces himself, and there were still no recordings of them. Cage hitch-hiked from Santa Monica to LA, where Buhlig lived, to try to get him to come and visit his class and play some of Schoenberg's pieces for them. Buhlig wasn't in, and Cage hung around in his garden hoping for him to come back -- he pulled the leaves off a bough from one of Buhlig's trees, going "He'll come back, he won't come back, he'll come back..." and the leaves said he'd be back. Buhlig arrived back at midnight, and quite understandably told the strange twenty-one-year-old who'd spent twelve hours in his garden pulling the leaves off his trees that no, he would not come to Santa Monica and give a free performance. But he did agree that if Cage brought some of his own compositions he'd give them a look over. Buhlig started giving Cage some proper lessons in composition, although he stressed that he was a performer, not a composer. Around this time Cage wrote his Sonata for Clarinet: [Excerpt: John Cage, "Sonata For Clarinet"] Buhlig suggested that Cage send that to Henry Cowell, the composer we heard about in the episode on "Good Vibrations" who was friends with Lev Termen and who created music by playing the strings inside a piano: [Excerpt: Henry Cowell, "Aeolian Harp and Sinister Resonance"] Cowell offered to take Cage on as an assistant, in return for which Cowell would teach him for a semester, as would Adolph Weiss, a pupil of Schoenberg's. But the goal, which Cowell suggested, was always to have Cage study with Schoenberg himself. Schoenberg at first refused, saying that Cage couldn't afford his price, but eventually took Cage on as a student having been assured that he would devote his entire life to music -- a promise Cage kept. Cage started writing pieces for percussion, something that had been very rare up to that point -- only a handful of composers, most notably Edgard Varese, had written pieces for percussion alone, but Cage was: [Excerpt: John Cage, "Trio"] This is often portrayed as a break from the ideals of his teacher Schoenberg, but in fact there's a clear continuity there, once you see what Cage was taking from Schoenberg. Schoenberg's work is, in some senses, about equality, about all notes being equal. Or to put it another way, it's about fairness. About erasing arbitrary distinctions. What Cage was doing was erasing the arbitrary distinction between the more and less prominent instruments. Why should there be pieces for solo violin or string quartet, but not for multiple percussion players? That said, Schoenberg was not exactly the most encouraging of teachers. When Cage invited Schoenberg to go to a concert of Cage's percussion work, Schoenberg told him he was busy that night. When Cage offered to arrange another concert for a date Schoenberg wasn't busy, the reply came "No, I will not be free at any time". Despite this, Cage later said “Schoenberg was a magnificent teacher, who always gave the impression that he was putting us in touch with musical principles,” and said "I literally worshipped him" -- a strong statement from someone who took religious matters as seriously as Cage. Cage was so devoted to Schoenberg's music that when a concert of music by Stravinsky was promoted as "music of the world's greatest living composer", Cage stormed into the promoter's office angrily, confronting the promoter and making it very clear that such things should not be said in the city where Schoenberg lived. Schoenberg clearly didn't think much of Cage's attempts at composition, thinking -- correctly -- that Cage had no ear for harmony. And his reportedly aggressive and confrontational teaching style didn't sit well with Cage -- though it seems very similar to a lot of the teaching techniques of the Zen masters he would later go on to respect. The two eventually parted ways, although Cage always spoke highly of Schoenberg. Schoenberg later gave Cage a compliment of sorts, when asked if any of his students had gone on to do anything interesting. At first he replied that none had, but then he mentioned Cage and said “Of course he's not a composer, but an inventor—of genius.” Cage was at this point very worried if there was any point to being a composer at all. He said later “I'd read Cowell's New Musical Resources and . . . The Theory of Rhythm. I had also read Chavez's Towards a New Music. Both works gave me the feeling that everything that was possible in music had already happened. So I thought I could never compose socially important music. Only if I could invent something new, then would I be useful to society. But that seemed unlikely then.” [Excerpt: John Cage, "Totem Ancestor"] Part of the solution came when he was asked to compose music for an abstract animation by the filmmaker Oskar Fischinger, and also to work as Fischinger's assistant when making the film. He was fascinated by the stop-motion process, and by the results of the film, which he described as "a beautiful film in which these squares, triangles and circles and other things moved and changed colour.” But more than that he was overwhelmed by a comment by Fischinger, who told him “Everything in the world has its own spirit, and this spirit becomes audible by setting it into vibration.” Cage later said “That set me on fire. He started me on a path of exploration of the world around me which has never stopped—of hitting and stretching and scraping and rubbing everything.” Cage now took his ideas further. His compositions for percussion had been about, if you like, giving the underdog a chance -- percussion was always in the background, why should it not be in the spotlight? Now he realised that there were other things getting excluded in conventional music -- the sounds that we characterise as noise. Why should composers work to exclude those sounds, but work to *include* other sounds? Surely that was... well, a little unfair? Eventually this would lead to pieces like his 1952 piece "Water Music", later expanded and retitled "Water Walk", which can be heard here in his 1959 appearance on the TV show "I've Got a Secret".  It's a piece for, amongst other things, a flowerpot full of flowers, a bathtub, a watering can, a pipe, a duck call, a blender full of ice cubes, and five unplugged radios: [Excerpt: John Cage "Water Walk"] As he was now avoiding pitch and harmony as organising principles for his music, he turned to time. But note -- not to rhythm. He said “There's none of this boom, boom, boom, business in my music . . . a measure is taken as a strict measure of time—not a one two three four—which I fill with various sounds.” He came up with a system he referred to as “micro-macrocosmic rhythmic structure,” what we would now call fractals, though that word hadn't yet been invented, where the structure of the whole piece was reflected in the smallest part of it. For a time he started moving away from the term music, preferring to refer to the "art of noise" or to "organised sound" -- though he later received a telegram from Edgard Varese, one of his musical heroes and one of the few other people writing works purely for percussion, asking him not to use that phrase, which Varese used for his own work. After meeting with Varese and his wife, he later became convinced that it was Varese's wife who had initiated the telegram, as she explained to Cage's wife "we didn't want your husband's work confused with my husband's work, any more than you'd want some . . . any artist's work confused with that of a cartoonist.” While there is a humour to Cage's work, I don't really hear much qualitative difference between a Cage piece like the one we just heard and a Varese piece like Ionisation: [Excerpt: Edgard Varese, "Ionisation"] But it was in 1952, the year of "Water Music" that John Cage made his two biggest impacts on the cultural world, though the full force of those impacts wasn't felt for some years. To understand Cage's 1952 work, you first have to understand that he had become heavily influenced by Zen, which at that time was very little known in the Western world. Indeed he had studied with Daisetsu Suzuki, who is credited with introducing Zen to the West, and said later “I didn't study music with just anybody; I studied with Schoenberg, I didn't study Zen with just anybody; I studied with Suzuki. I've always gone, insofar as I could, to the president of the company.” Cage's whole worldview was profoundly affected by Zen, but he was also naturally sympathetic to it, and his work after learning about Zen is mostly a continuation of trends we can already see. In particular, he became convinced that the point of music isn't to communicate anything between two people, rather its point is merely to be experienced. I'm far from an expert on Buddhism, but one way of thinking about its central lessons is that one should experience things as they are, experiencing the thing itself rather than one's thoughts or preconceptions about it. And so at Black Mountain college came Theatre Piece Number 1: [Excerpt: Edith Piaf, "La Vie En Rose" ] In this piece, Cage had set the audience on all sides, so they'd be facing each other. He stood on a stepladder, as colleagues danced in and around the audience, another colleague played the piano, two more took turns to stand on another stepladder to recite poetry, different films and slides were projected, seemingly at random, onto the walls, and the painter Robert Rauschenberg played scratchy Edith Piaf records on a wind-up gramophone. The audience were included in the performance, and it was meant to be experienced as a gestalt, as a whole, to be what we would now call an immersive experience. One of Cage's students around this time was the artist Allan Kaprow, and he would be inspired by Theatre Piece Number 1 to put on several similar events in the late fifties. Those events he called "happenings", because the point of them was that you were meant to experience an event as it was happening rather than bring preconceptions of form and structure to them. Those happenings were the inspiration for events like The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream, and the term "happening" became such an integral part of the counterculture that by 1967 there were comedy films being released about them, including one just called The Happening with a title track by the Supremes that made number one: [Excerpt: The Supremes, "The Happening"] Theatre Piece Number 1 was retrospectively considered the first happening, and as such its influence is incalculable. But one part I didn't mention about Theatre Piece Number 1 is that as well as Rauschenberg playing Edith Piaf's records, he also displayed some of his paintings. These paintings were totally white -- at a glance, they looked like blank canvases, but as one inspected them more clearly, it became apparent that Rauschenberg had painted them with white paint, with visible brushstrokes. These paintings, along with a visit to an anechoic chamber in which Cage discovered that even in total silence one can still hear one's own blood and nervous system, so will never experience total silence, were the final key to something Cage had been working towards -- if music had minimised percussion, and excluded noise, how much more had it excluded silence? As Cage said in 1958 “Curiously enough, the twelve-tone system has no zero in it.” And so came 4'33, the piece that we heard an excerpt of near the start of this episode. That piece was the something new he'd been looking for that could be useful to society. It took the sounds the audience could already hear, and without changing them even slightly gave them a new context and made the audience hear them as they were. Simply by saying "this is music", it caused the ambient noise to be perceived as music. This idea, of recontextualising existing material, was one that had already been done in the art world -- Marcel Duchamp, in 1917, had exhibited a urinal as a sculpture titled "Fountain" -- but even Duchamp had talked about his work as "everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist's act of choice". The artist was *raising* the object to art. What Cage was saying was "the object is already art". This was all massively influential to a young painter who had seen Cage give lectures many times, and while at art school had with friends prepared a piano in the same way Cage did for his own experimental compositions, dampening the strings with different objects. [Excerpt: Dana Gillespie, "Andy Warhol (live)"] Duchamp and Rauschenberg were both big influences on Andy Warhol, but he would say in the early sixties "John Cage is really so responsible for so much that's going on," and would for the rest of his life cite Cage as one of the two or three prime influences of his career. Warhol is a difficult figure to discuss, because his work is very intellectual but he was not very articulate -- which is one reason I've led up to him by discussing Cage in such detail, because Cage was always eager to talk at great length about the theoretical basis of his work, while Warhol would say very few words about anything at all. Probably the person who knew him best was his business partner and collaborator Paul Morrissey, and Morrissey's descriptions of Warhol have shaped my own view of his life, but it's very worth noting that Morrissey is an extremely right-wing moralist who wishes to see a Catholic theocracy imposed to do away with the scourges of sexual immorality, drug use, hedonism, and liberalism, so his view of Warhol, a queer drug using progressive whose worldview seems to have been totally opposed to Morrissey's in every way, might be a little distorted. Warhol came from an impoverished background, and so, as many people who grew up poor do, he was, throughout his life, very eager to make money. He studied art at university, and got decent but not exceptional grades -- he was a competent draughtsman, but not a great one, and most importantly as far as success in the art world goes he didn't have what is known as his own "line" -- with most successful artists, you can look at a handful of lines they've drawn and see something of their own personality in it. You couldn't with Warhol. His drawings looked like mediocre imitations of other people's work. Perfectly competent, but nothing that stood out. So Warhol came up with a technique to make his drawings stand out -- blotting. He would do a normal drawing, then go over it with a lot of wet ink. He'd lower a piece of paper on to the wet drawing, and the new paper would soak up the ink, and that second piece of paper would become the finished work. The lines would be fractured and smeared, broken in places where the ink didn't get picked up, and thick in others where it had pooled. With this mechanical process, Warhol had managed to create an individual style, and he became an extremely successful commercial artist. In the early 1950s photography was still seen as a somewhat low-class way of advertising things. If you wanted to sell to a rich audience, you needed to use drawings or paintings. By 1955 Warhol was making about twelve thousand dollars a year -- somewhere close to a hundred and thirty thousand a year in today's money -- drawing shoes for advertisements. He also had a sideline in doing record covers for people like Count Basie: [Excerpt: Count Basie, "Seventh Avenue Express"] For most of the 1950s he also tried to put on shows of his more serious artistic work -- often with homoerotic themes -- but to little success. The dominant art style of the time was the abstract expressionism of people like Jackson Pollock, whose art was visceral, emotional, and macho. The term "action paintings" which was coined for the work of people like Pollock, sums it up. This was manly art for manly men having manly emotions and expressing them loudly. It was very male and very straight, and even the gay artists who were prominent at the time tended to be very conformist and look down on anything they considered flamboyant or effeminate. Warhol was a rather effeminate, very reserved man, who strongly disliked showing his emotions, and whose tastes ran firmly to the camp. Camp as an aesthetic of finding joy in the flamboyant or trashy, as opposed to merely a descriptive term for men who behaved in a way considered effeminate, was only just starting to be codified at this time -- it wouldn't really become a fully-formed recognisable thing until Susan Sontag's essay "Notes on Camp" in 1964 -- but of course just because something hasn't been recognised doesn't mean it doesn't exist, and Warhol's aesthetic was always very camp, and in the 1950s in the US that was frowned upon even in gay culture, where the mainstream opinion was that the best way to acceptance was through assimilation. Abstract expressionism was all about expressing the self, and that was something Warhol never wanted to do -- in fact he made some pronouncements at times which suggested he didn't think of himself as *having* a self in the conventional sense. The combination of not wanting to express himself and of wanting to work more efficiently as a commercial artist led to some interesting results. For example, he was commissioned in 1957 to do a cover for an album by Moondog, the blind street musician whose name Alan Freed had once stolen: [Excerpt: Moondog, "Gloving It"] For that cover, Warhol got his mother, Julia Warhola, to just write out the liner notes for the album in her rather ornamental cursive script, and that became the front cover, leading to an award for graphic design going that year to "Andy Warhol's mother". (Incidentally, my copy of the current CD issue of that album, complete with Julia Warhola's cover, is put out by Pickwick Records...) But towards the end of the fifties, the work for commercial artists started to dry up. If you wanted to advertise shoes, now, you just took a photo of the shoes rather than get Andy Warhol to draw a picture of them. The money started to disappear, and Warhol started to panic. If there was no room for him in graphic design any more, he had to make his living in the fine arts, which he'd been totally unsuccessful in. But luckily for Warhol, there was a new movement that was starting to form -- Pop Art. Pop Art started in England, and had originally been intended, at least in part, as a critique of American consumerist capitalism. Pieces like "Just what is it that makes today's homes so different, so appealing?" by Richard Hamilton (who went on to design the Beatles' White Album cover) are collages of found images, almost all from American sources, recontextualised and juxtaposed in interesting ways, so a bodybuilder poses in a room that's taken from an advert in Ladies' Home Journal, while on the wall, instead of a painting, hangs a blown-up cover of a Jack Kirby romance comic. Pop Art changed slightly when it got taken up in America, and there it became something rather different, something closer to Duchamp, taking those found images and displaying them as art with no juxtaposition. Where Richard Hamilton created collage art which *showed* a comic cover by Jack Kirby as a painting in the background, Roy Lichtenstein would take a panel of comic art by Kirby, or Russ Heath or Irv Novick or a dozen other comic artists, and redraw it at the size of a normal painting. So Warhol took Cage's idea that the object is already art, and brought that into painting, starting by doing paintings of Campbell's soup cans, in which he tried as far as possible to make the cans look exactly like actual soup cans. The paintings were controversial, inciting fury in some and laughter in others and causing almost everyone to question whether they were art. Warhol would embrace an aesthetic in which things considered unimportant or trash or pop culture detritus were the greatest art of all. For example pretty much every profile of him written in the mid sixties talks about him obsessively playing "Sally Go Round the Roses", a girl-group single by the one-hit wonders the Jaynettes: [Excerpt: The Jaynettes, "Sally Go Round the Roses"] After his paintings of Campbell's soup cans, and some rather controversial but less commercially successful paintings of photographs of horrors and catastrophes taken from newspapers, Warhol abandoned painting in the conventional sense altogether, instead creating brightly coloured screen prints -- a form of stencilling -- based on photographs of celebrities like Elvis Presley, Elizabeth Taylor and, most famously, Marilyn Monroe. That way he could produce images which could be mass-produced, without his active involvement, and which supposedly had none of his personality in them, though of course his personality pervades the work anyway. He put on exhibitions of wooden boxes, silk-screen printed to look exactly like shipping cartons of Brillo pads. Images we see everywhere -- in newspapers, in supermarkets -- were art. And Warhol even briefly formed a band. The Druds were a garage band formed to play at a show at the Washington Gallery of Modern Art, the opening night of an exhibition that featured a silkscreen by Warhol of 210 identical bottles of Coca-Cola, as well as paintings by Rauschenberg and others. That opening night featured a happening by Claes Oldenburg, and a performance by Cage -- Cage gave a live lecture while three recordings of his own voice also played. The Druds were also meant to perform, but they fell apart after only a few rehearsals. Some recordings apparently exist, but they don't seem to circulate, but they'd be fascinating to hear as almost the entire band were non-musician artists like Warhol, Jasper Johns, and the sculptor Walter de Maria. Warhol said of the group “It didn't go too well, but if we had just stayed on it it would have been great.” On the other hand, the one actual musician in the group said “It was kind of ridiculous, so I quit after the second rehearsal". That musician was La Monte Young: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Well-Tuned Piano"] That's an excerpt from what is generally considered Young's masterwork, "The Well-Tuned Piano". It's six and a half hours long. If Warhol is a difficult figure to write about, Young is almost impossible. He's a musician with a career stretching sixty years, who is arguably the most influential musician from the classical tradition in that time period. He's generally considered the father of minimalism, and he's also been called by Brian Eno "the daddy of us all" -- without Young you simply *do not* get art rock at all. Without Young there is no Velvet Underground, no David Bowie, no Eno, no New York punk scene, no Yoko Ono. Anywhere that the fine arts or conceptual art have intersected with popular music in the last fifty or more years has been influenced in one way or another by Young's work. BUT... he only rarely publishes his scores. He very, very rarely allows recordings of his work to be released -- there are four recordings on his bandcamp, plus a handful of recordings of his older, published, pieces, and very little else. He doesn't allow his music to be performed live without his supervision. There *are* bootleg recordings of his music, but even those are not easily obtainable -- Young is vigorous in enforcing his copyrights and issues takedown notices against anywhere that hosts them. So other than that handful of legitimately available recordings -- plus a recording by Young's Theater of Eternal Music, the legality of which is still disputed, and an off-air recording of a 1971 radio programme I've managed to track down, the only way to experience Young's music unless you're willing to travel to one of his rare live performances or installations is second-hand, by reading about it. Except that the one book that deals solely with Young and his music is not only a dense and difficult book to read, it's also one that Young vehemently disagreed with and considered extremely inaccurate, to the point he refused to allow permissions to quote his work in the book. Young did apparently prepare a list of corrections for the book, but he wouldn't tell the author what they were without payment. So please assume that anything I say about Young is wrong, but also accept that the short section of this episode about Young has required more work to *try* to get it right than pretty much anything else this year. Young's musical career actually started out in a relatively straightforward manner. He didn't grow up in the most loving of homes -- he's talked about his father beating him as a child because he had been told that young La Monte was clever -- but his father did buy him a saxophone and teach him the rudiments of the instrument, and as a child he was most influenced by the music of the big band saxophone player Jimmy Dorsey: [Excerpt: Jimmy Dorsey, “It's the Dreamer in Me”] The family, who were Mormon farmers, relocated several times in Young's childhood, from Idaho first to California and then to Utah, but everywhere they went La Monte seemed to find musical inspiration, whether from an uncle who had been part of the Kansas City jazz scene, a classmate who was a musical prodigy who had played with Perez Prado in his early teens, or a teacher who took the class to see a performance of Bartok's Concerto for Orchestra: [Excerpt: Bartok, "Concerto for Orchestra"] After leaving high school, Young went to Los Angeles City College to study music under Leonard Stein, who had been Schoenberg's assistant when Schoenberg had taught at UCLA, and there he became part of the thriving jazz scene based around Central Avenue, studying and performing with musicians like Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry, and Eric Dolphy -- Young once beat Dolphy in an audition for a place in the City College dance band, and the two would apparently substitute for each other on their regular gigs when one couldn't make it. During this time, Young's musical tastes became much more adventurous. He was a particular fan of the work of John Coltrane, and also got inspired by City of Glass, an album by Stan Kenton that attempted to combine jazz and modern classical music: [Excerpt: Stan Kenton's Innovations Orchestra, "City of Glass: The Structures"] His other major musical discovery in the mid-fifties was one we've talked about on several previous occasions -- the album Music of India, Morning and Evening Ragas by Ali Akhbar Khan: [Excerpt: Ali Akhbar Khan, "Rag Sindhi Bhairavi"] Young's music at this point was becoming increasingly modal, and equally influenced by the blues and Indian music. But he was also becoming interested in serialism. Serialism is an extension and generalisation of twelve-tone music, inspired by mathematical set theory. In serialism, you choose a set of musical elements -- in twelve-tone music that's the twelve notes in the twelve-tone scale, but it can also be a set of tonal relations, a chord, or any other set of elements. You then define all the possible ways you can permute those elements, a defined set of operations you can perform on them -- so you could play a scale forwards, play it backwards, play all the notes in the scale simultaneously, and so on. You then go through all the possible permutations, exactly once, and that's your piece of music. Young was particularly influenced by the works of Anton Webern, one of the earliest serialists: [Excerpt: Anton Webern, "Cantata number 1 for Soprano, Mixed Chorus, and Orchestra"] That piece we just heard, Webern's "Cantata number 1", was the subject of some of the earliest theoretical discussion of serialism, and in particular led to some discussion of the next step on from serialism. If serialism was all about going through every single permutation of a set, what if you *didn't* permute every element? There was a lot of discussion in the late fifties in music-theoretical circles about the idea of invariance. Normally in music, the interesting thing is what gets changed. To use a very simple example, you might change a melody from a major key to a minor one to make it sound sadder. What theorists at this point were starting to discuss is what happens if you leave something the same, but change the surrounding context, so the thing you *don't* vary sounds different because of the changed context. And going further, what if you don't change the context at all, and merely *imply* a changed context? These ideas were some of those which inspired Young's first major work, his Trio For Strings from 1958, a complex, palindromic, serial piece which is now credited as the first work of minimalism, because the notes in it change so infrequently: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "Trio for Strings"] Though I should point out that Young never considers his works truly finished, and constantly rewrites them, and what we just heard is an excerpt from the only recording of the trio ever officially released, which is of the 2015 version. So I can't state for certain how close what we just heard is to the piece he wrote in 1958, except that it sounds very like the written descriptions of it I've read. After writing the Trio For Strings, Young moved to Germany to study with the modernist composer Karlheinz Stockhausen. While studying with Stockhausen, he became interested in the work of John Cage, and started up a correspondence with Cage. On his return to New York he studied with Cage and started writing pieces inspired by Cage, of which the most musical is probably Composition 1960 #7: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "Composition 1960 #7"] The score for that piece is a stave on which is drawn a treble clef, the notes B and F#, and the words "To be held for a long Time". Other of his compositions from 1960 -- which are among the few of his compositions which have been published -- include composition 1960 #10 ("To Bob Morris"), the score for which is just the instruction "Draw a straight line and follow it.", and Piano Piece for David  Tudor #1, the score for which reads "Bring a bale of hay and a bucket of water onto the stage for the piano to eat and drink. The performer may then feed the piano or leave it to eat by itself. If the former, the piece is over after the piano has been fed. If the latter, it is over after the piano eats or decides not to". Most of these compositions were performed as part of a loose New York art collective called Fluxus, all of whom were influenced by Cage and the Dadaists. This collective, led by George Maciunas, sometimes involved Cage himself, but also involved people like Henry Flynt, the inventor of conceptual art, who later became a campaigner against art itself, and who also much to Young's bemusement abandoned abstract music in the mid-sixties to form a garage band with Walter de Maria (who had played drums with the Druds): [Excerpt: Henry Flynt and the Insurrections, "I Don't Wanna"] Much of Young's work was performed at Fluxus concerts given in a New York loft belonging to another member of the collective, Yoko Ono, who co-curated the concerts with Young. One of Ono's mid-sixties pieces, her "Four Pieces for Orchestra" is dedicated to Young, and consists of such instructions as "Count all the stars of that night by heart. The piece ends when all the orchestra members finish counting the stars, or when it dawns. This can be done with windows instead of stars." But while these conceptual ideas remained a huge part of Young's thinking, he soon became interested in two other ideas. The first was the idea of just intonation -- tuning instruments and voices to perfect harmonics, rather than using the subtly-off tuning that is used in Western music. I'm sure I've explained that before in a previous episode, but to put it simply when you're tuning an instrument with fixed pitches like a piano, you have a choice -- you can either tune it so that the notes in one key are perfectly in tune with each other, but then when you change key things go very out of tune, or you can choose to make *everything* a tiny bit, almost unnoticeably, out of tune, but equally so. For the last several hundred years, musicians as a community have chosen the latter course, which was among other things promoted by Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier, a collection of compositions which shows how the different keys work together: [Excerpt: Bach (Glenn Gould), "The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book II: Fugue in F-sharp minor, BWV 883"] Young, by contrast, has his own esoteric tuning system, which he uses in his own work The Well-Tuned Piano: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Well-Tuned Piano"] The other idea that Young took on was from Indian music, the idea of the drone. One of the four recordings of Young's music that is available from his Bandcamp, a 1982 recording titled The Tamburas of Pandit Pran Nath, consists of one hour, thirteen minutes, and fifty-eight seconds of this: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Tamburas of Pandit Pran Nath"] Yes, I have listened to the whole piece. No, nothing else happens. The minimalist composer Terry Riley describes the recording as "a singularly rare contribution that far outshines any other attempts to capture this instrument in recorded media". In 1962, Young started writing pieces based on what he called the "dream chord", a chord consisting of a root, fourth, sharpened fourth, and fifth: [dream chord] That chord had already appeared in his Trio for Strings, but now it would become the focus of much of his work, in pieces like his 1962 piece The Second Dream of the High-Tension Line Stepdown Transformer, heard here in a 1982 revision: [Excerpt: La Monte Young, "The Second Dream of the High-Tension Line Stepdown Transformer"] That was part of a series of works titled The Four Dreams of China, and Young began to plan an installation work titled Dream House, which would eventually be created, and which currently exists in Tribeca, New York, where it's been in continuous "performance" for thirty years -- and which consists of thirty-two different pure sine wave tones all played continuously, plus purple lighting by Young's wife Marian Zazeela. But as an initial step towards creating this, Young formed a collective called Theatre of Eternal Music, which some of the members -- though never Young himself -- always claim also went by the alternative name The Dream Syndicate. According to John Cale, a member of the group, that name came about because the group tuned their instruments to the 60hz hum of the fridge in Young's apartment, which Cale called "the key of Western civilisation". According to Cale, that meant the fundamental of the chords they played was 10hz, the frequency of alpha waves when dreaming -- hence the name. The group initially consisted of Young, Zazeela, the photographer Billy Name, and percussionist Angus MacLise, but by this recording in 1964 the lineup was Young, Zazeela, MacLise, Tony Conrad and John Cale: [Excerpt: "Cale, Conrad, Maclise, Young, Zazeela - The Dream Syndicate 2 IV 64-4"] That recording, like any others that have leaked by the 1960s version of the Theatre of Eternal Music or Dream Syndicate, is of disputed legality, because Young and Zazeela claim to this day that what the group performed were La Monte Young's compositions, while the other two surviving members, Cale and Conrad, claim that their performances were improvisational collaborations and should be equally credited to all the members, and so there have been lawsuits and countersuits any time anyone has released the recordings. John Cale, the youngest member of the group, was also the only one who wasn't American. He'd been born in Wales in 1942, and had had the kind of childhood that, in retrospect, seems guaranteed to lead to eccentricity. He was the product of a mixed-language marriage -- his father, William, was an English speaker while his mother, Margaret, spoke Welsh, but the couple had moved in on their marriage with Margaret's mother, who insisted that only Welsh could be spoken in her house. William didn't speak Welsh, and while he eventually picked up the basics from spending all his life surrounded by Welsh-speakers, he refused on principle to capitulate to his mother-in-law, and so remained silent in the house. John, meanwhile, grew up a monolingual Welsh speaker, and didn't start to learn English until he went to school when he was seven, and so couldn't speak to his father until then even though they lived together. Young John was extremely unwell for most of his childhood, both physically -- he had bronchial problems for which he had to take a cough mixture that was largely opium to help him sleep at night -- and mentally. He was hospitalised when he was sixteen with what was at first thought to be meningitis, but turned out to be a psychosomatic condition, the result of what he has described as a nervous breakdown. That breakdown is probably connected to the fact that during his teenage years he was sexually assaulted by two adults in positions of authority -- a vicar and a music teacher -- and felt unable to talk to anyone about this. He was, though, a child prodigy and was playing viola with the National Youth Orchestra of Wales from the age of thirteen, and listening to music by Schoenberg, Webern, and Stravinsky. He was so talented a multi-instrumentalist that at school he was the only person other than one of the music teachers and the headmaster who was allowed to use the piano -- which led to a prank on his very last day at school. The headmaster would, on the last day, hit a low G on the piano to cue the assembly to stand up, and Cale had placed a comb on the string, muting it and stopping the note from sounding -- in much the same way that his near-namesake John Cage was "preparing" pianos for his own compositions in the USA. Cale went on to Goldsmith's College to study music and composition, under Humphrey Searle, one of Britain's greatest proponents of serialism who had himself studied under Webern. Cale's main instrument was the viola, but he insisted on also playing pieces written for the violin, because they required more technical skill. For his final exam he chose to play Hindemith's notoriously difficult Viola Sonata: [Excerpt: Hindemith Viola Sonata] While at Goldsmith's, Cale became friendly with Cornelius Cardew, a composer and cellist who had studied with Stockhausen and at the time was a great admirer of and advocate for the works of Cage and Young (though by the mid-seventies Cardew rejected their work as counter-revolutionary bourgeois imperialism). Through Cardew, Cale started to correspond with Cage, and with George Maciunas and other members of Fluxus. In July 1963, just after he'd finished his studies at Goldsmith's, Cale presented a festival there consisting of an afternoon and an evening show. These shows included the first British performances of several works including Cardew's Autumn '60 for Orchestra -- a piece in which the musicians were given blank staves on which to write whatever part they wanted to play, but a separate set of instructions in *how* to play the parts they'd written. Another piece Cale presented in its British premiere at that show was Cage's "Concerto for Piano and Orchestra": [Excerpt: John Cage, "Concerto for Piano and Orchestra"] In the evening show, they performed Two Pieces For String Quartet by George Brecht (in which the musicians polish their instruments with dusters, making scraping sounds as they clean them),  and two new pieces by Cale, one of which involved a plant being put on the stage, and then the performer, Robin Page, screaming from the balcony at the plant that it would die, then running down, through the audience, and onto the stage, screaming abuse and threats at the plant. The final piece in the show was a performance by Cale (the first one in Britain) of La Monte Young's "X For Henry Flynt". For this piece, Cale put his hands together and then smashed both his arms onto the keyboard as hard as he could, over and over. After five minutes some of the audience stormed the stage and tried to drag the piano away from him. Cale followed the piano on his knees, continuing to bang the keys, and eventually the audience gave up in defeat and Cale the performer won. After this Cale moved to the USA, to further study composition, this time with Iannis Xenakis, the modernist composer who had also taught Mickey Baker orchestration after Baker left Mickey and Sylvia, and who composed such works as "Orient Occident": [Excerpt: Iannis Xenakis, "Orient Occident"] Cale had been recommended to Xenakis as a student by Aaron Copland, who thought the young man was probably a genius. But Cale's musical ambitions were rather too great for Tanglewood, Massachusetts -- he discovered that the institute had eighty-eight pianos, the same number as there are keys on a piano keyboard, and thought it would be great if for a piece he could take all eighty-eight pianos, put them all on different boats, sail the boats out onto a lake, and have eighty-eight different musicians each play one note on each piano, while the boats sank with the pianos on board. For some reason, Cale wasn't allowed to perform this composition, and instead had to make do with one where he pulled an axe out of a single piano and slammed it down on a table. Hardly the same, I'm sure you'll agree. From Tanglewood, Cale moved on to New York, where he soon became part of the artistic circles surrounding John Cage and La Monte Young. It was at this time that he joined Young's Theatre of Eternal Music, and also took part in a performance with Cage that would get Cale his first television exposure: [Excerpt: John Cale playing Erik Satie's "Vexations" on "I've Got a Secret"] That's Cale playing through "Vexations", a piece by Erik Satie that wasn't published until after Satie's death, and that remained in obscurity until Cage popularised -- if that's the word -- the piece. The piece, which Cage had found while studying Satie's notes, seems to be written as an exercise and has the inscription (in French) "In order to play the motif 840 times in succession, it would be advisable to prepare oneself beforehand, and in the deepest silence, by serious immobilities." Cage interpreted that, possibly correctly, as an instruction that the piece should be played eight hundred and forty times straight through, and so he put together a performance of the piece, the first one ever, by a group he called the Pocket Theatre Piano Relay Team, which included Cage himself, Cale, Joshua Rifkin, and several other notable musical figures, who took it in turns playing the piece. For that performance, which ended up lasting eighteen hours, there was an entry fee of five dollars, and there was a time-clock in the lobby. Audience members punched in and punched out, and got a refund of five cents for every twenty minutes they'd spent listening to the music. Supposedly, at the end, one audience member yelled "Encore!" A week later, Cale appeared on "I've Got a Secret", a popular game-show in which celebrities tried to guess people's secrets (and which is where that performance of Cage's "Water Walk" we heard earlier comes from): [Excerpt: John Cale on I've Got a Secret] For a while, Cale lived with a friend of La Monte Young's, Terry Jennings, before moving in to a flat with Tony Conrad, one of the other members of the Theatre of Eternal Music. Angus MacLise lived in another flat in the same building. As there was not much money to be made in avant-garde music, Cale also worked in a bookshop -- a job Cage had found him -- and had a sideline in dealing drugs. But rents were so cheap at this time that Cale and Conrad only had to work part-time, and could spend much of their time working on the music they were making with Young. Both were string players -- Conrad violin, Cale viola -- and they soon modified their instruments. Conrad merely attached pickups to his so it could be amplified, but Cale went much further. He filed down the viola's bridge so he could play three strings at once, and he replaced the normal viola strings with thicker, heavier, guitar and mandolin strings. This created a sound so loud that it sounded like a distorted electric guitar -- though in late 1963 and early 1964 there were very few people who even knew what a distorted guitar sounded like. Cale and Conrad were also starting to become interested in rock and roll music, to which neither of them had previously paid much attention, because John Cage's music had taught them to listen for music in sounds they previously dismissed. In particular, Cale became fascinated with the harmonies of the Everly Brothers, hearing in them the same just intonation that Young advocated for: [Excerpt: The Everly Brothers, "All I Have to Do is Dream"] And it was with this newfound interest in rock and roll that Cale and Conrad suddenly found themselves members of a manufactured pop band. The two men had been invited to a party on the Lower East Side, and there they'd been introduced to Terry Phillips of Pickwick Records. Phillips had seen their long hair and asked if they were musicians, so they'd answered "yes". He asked if they were in a band, and they said yes. He asked if that band had a drummer, and again they said yes. By this point they realised that he had assumed they were rock guitarists, rather than experimental avant-garde string players, but they decided to play along and see where this was going. Phillips told them that if they brought along their drummer to Pickwick's studios the next day, he had a job for them. The two of them went along with Walter de Maria, who did play the drums a little in between his conceptual art work, and there they were played a record: [Excerpt: The Primitives, "The Ostrich"] It was explained to them that Pickwick made knock-off records -- soundalikes of big hits, and their own records in the style of those hits, all played by a bunch of session musicians and put out under different band names. This one, by "the Primitives", they thought had a shot at being an actual hit, even though it was a dance-craze song about a dance where one partner lays on the floor and the other stamps on their head. But if it was going to be a hit, they needed an actual band to go out and perform it, backing the singer. How would Cale, Conrad, and de Maria like to be three quarters of the Primitives? It sounded fun, but of course they weren't actually guitarists. But as it turned out, that wasn't going to be a problem. They were told that the guitars on the track had all been tuned to one note -- not even to an open chord, like we talked about Steve Cropper doing last episode, but all the strings to one note. Cale and Conrad were astonished -- that was exactly the kind of thing they'd been doing in their drone experiments with La Monte Young. Who was this person who was independently inventing the most advanced ideas in experimental music but applying them to pop songs? And that was how they met Lou Reed: [Excerpt: The Primitives, "The Ostrich"] Where Cale and Conrad were avant-gardeists who had only just started paying attention to rock and roll music, rock and roll was in Lou Reed's blood, but there were a few striking similarities between him and Cale, even though at a glance their backgrounds could not have seemed more different. Reed had been brought up in a comfortably middle-class home in Long Island, but despised the suburban conformity that surrounded him from a very early age, and by his teens was starting to rebel against it very strongly. According to one classmate “Lou was always more advanced than the rest of us. The drinking age was eighteen back then, so we all started drinking at around sixteen. We were drinking quarts of beer, but Lou was smoking joints. He didn't do that in front of many people, but I knew he was doing it. While we were looking at girls in Playboy, Lou was reading Story of O. He was reading the Marquis de Sade, stuff that I wouldn't even have thought about or known how to find.” But one way in which Reed was a typical teenager of the period was his love for rock and roll, especially doo-wop. He'd got himself a guitar, but only had one lesson -- according to the story he would tell on numerous occasions, he turned up with a copy of "Blue Suede Shoes" and told the teacher he only wanted to know how to play the chords for that, and he'd work out the rest himself. Reed and two schoolfriends, Alan Walters and Phil Harris, put together a doo-wop trio they called The Shades, because they wore sunglasses, and a neighbour introduced them to Bob Shad, who had been an A&R man for Mercury Records and was starting his own new label. He renamed them the Jades and took them into the studio with some of the best New York session players, and at fourteen years old Lou Reed was writing songs and singing them backed by Mickey Baker and King Curtis: [Excerpt: The Jades, "Leave Her For Me"] Sadly the Jades' single was a flop -- the closest it came to success was being played on Murray the K's radio show, but on a day when Murray the K was off ill and someone else was filling in for him, much to Reed's disappointment. Phil Harris, the lead singer of the group, got to record some solo sessions after that, but the Jades split up and it would be several years before Reed made any more records. Partly this was because of Reed's mental health, and here's where things get disputed and rather messy. What we know is that in his late teens, just after he'd gone off to New

From 1974 on MGM Records. Check out the main theme from The Rockford Files composed by Mike Post! Also, as special announcement about the Facebook group page The Way Things Used To Be. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/don-williams8/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/don-williams8/support

Episode 89 The Theremin Part 2: Recordings After 1970 Playlist Ultimate Spinach, “(Ballad of The) Hip Death Goddess” from Ultimate Spinach (1968 MGM Records). This American psychedelic rock band was from Boston, Massachusetts, although they had a sound that had more an affinity with the free spirit of San Francisco. The Theremin has a prominent part in this song, following the vocalist and filling in some interesting instrumental parts. Bass and Feedback, Richard Nese; Vocals, Drums, Tabla, Bass Drum, Bells, Chimes, Keith Lahteinen; Vocals, Electric Guitar, Guitar, Kazoo, Barbara Hudson; Vocals, Electric Piano, Electric Harpsichord, Organ, Harpsichord, Twelve-String Guitar, Sitar, Harmonica, Wood Flute, Theremin, Celesta, Ian Bruce-Douglas; Vocals, Lead Guitar, Guitar Feedback, Sitar Drone, Electric Sitar, Geoffrey Winthrop. 8:11 Hawkwind, “Paranoia Part 2” from Hawkwind (1970 Liberty). Hawkwind was a pioneering space-rock and psychedelic group from the UK. They were known to use a theremin during their early years—1969 to 1973 and revived its use on stage in later performances using a Moog Etherwave model in the 2000s. This first album features a theremin added to much of the sonic textures, sometimes overtly but often run through effects to provide a looming background, as in this song. It is sometimes difficult to distinguish, but I think there is a theremin providing some of the droning background and then sporadic bursts of tones beginning around 4:25. 14:54 McKendree Spring, “God Bless the Conspiracy” from 3 (1972 Decca). Electric Violin, Viola, Theremin, Michael Dreyfuss; Electronics (Ring Modulator), Tom Oberheim; Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Dulcimer, Fran McKendree; Electric Bass, Larry Tucker; Electric Guitar, Martin Slutsky. This progressive band with experimental leanings was a quartet without a drummer. Dreyfus later said, “In God Bless the Conspiracy and No Regrets I was able to play viola and Theremin at the same time by bringing my body closer to the Theremin (to change pitch) while playing a harmony part on the viola,”(2006). He played a Theremin beginning 1969. He may have used a Moog theremin, such as the Troubadour. 6:53 Linda Cohen, “Horizon Jane” from Lake Of Light (1973 Poppy). Folky album from Philadelphia featuring several electronic musicians. Acoustic Guitar, Bass, Piano, Polytonic Modulator, Jefferson Cain; Classical Guitar, Composer, Linda Cohen; Flute, Stan Slotter; Producer, Electric Guitar, Matrix Electronic Drums, Modulator, Sitar, Synthesizer, Craig Anderton; Minimoog, Theremin, Charles Cohen. 3:36 Ronnie Montrose, “Space Station #5” from Montrose (1973 Warner Brothers). Ronnie Montrose added a custom-built Theremin to his equipment with the pitch antenna mounted on his aluminum (silver) Velano guitar so that he could play both at the same time. Volume for the theremin was controlled by a black box mounted on a mike stand, to which he stood nearby. He was recording with it throughout the 1970s. Here is a great live clip you where you can see how he played it. Note the end of the clip where he put the theremin guitar up against the speaker and wails on the volume control of the theremin control box. Bass, Bill Church; Drums, Denny Carmassi; Guitar, Theremin-Guitar, Ronnie Montrose; Vocals, Sam Hagar. 5:36 Arthur Brown's Kingdom Come, “Time Captives” from Journey (1974 Passport). Fender Bass, Percussion, Vocals, Phil Shutt; Bentley Rhythm Ace, Vocals, Arthur Brown; Electric Guitar, Vocals, Andy Dalby; Mellotron, ARP 2600, EMS VCS 3, Piano, Theremin, Percussion, Vocals, Victor Peraino. 8:37 Michael Quatro, “Get Away” from In Collaboration with The Gods (1975 United Artists Records). Brother of Detroit rockers Suzi and Patti Quatro, he had a flare for progressive rock and electronic keyboards in the 1970s. The Theremin makes frequent appearances on this album, this track in particular. Arranger, Piano Baldwin, Electric Piano Gretsch Electro, Piano Tack Piano, Sonic Six Synthesizer, Effects Univox Phaser, Univox Stringman, EC-80 Echo, Elka Electric Piano, Hammond Organ, Minimoog Synthesizer, Univox Mini-Korg, Electroharmonix Boxes, Mellotron Violin, Cello, Flute, Effects Wah-Wah Pedals, Effects Syntha-Pedal, Bass Nova Bass, Horns, Organ Pipe Organ, Sounds Ring Modulation, Maestro Theremin, Electronic Effects, Percussion , Michael Quatro;Bass, Lead Vocals, Arranged By Arranging Assistance, Dave Kiswiney; Drums, Kirk (Arthur) Trachsel; Guitar, Teddy Hale. 4:04 Melodic Energy Commission, “Revise The Scene” from Stranger In Mystery (1979 Energy Discs). This is the first album from this Canadian space-rock, psychedelic and folk troupe from British Columbia. The Theremin was a key instrument in their ensemble and was custom-built by group member George McDonald. His Theremin would eventually be known as the Galactic Stream Theremin and would take some 25 years to build and evolve into a six antennae instrument for “tuning into the performers body motions.” During this recording, a simpler, more traditional version was used. Gas & Steam Bass, Bells, Tambourine, Mark Franklin; Dulcimer, Bowed Dulcimer, Khaen, Gongs, Flute, Randy Raine-Reusch; Hydro-electric Guitar, Custom-made Theremin, Aura, Wall Of Oscillation, George McDonald; Percussion, Tablas, Brass Tank, Glockenspiel, Roland SH5 Synthesizer, Organ, Paul Franklin; EMS Synthi AKS, Delatronics, Electric Guitar, Del Dettmar; Wordy Voice, Guitar, Piano, Organ, Roland SH 1000 Synthesizer, Gongs, Vibraphone, Kalimba, Stone Drum, Egyptian Shepherd's Pipe, Xaliman. 6:13 The Nihilist Spasm Band, “Elsinore” from Vol. 2 (1979 Music gallery Editions). Canadian group that used all hand-made instruments, including the kit-made Theremin by Bill Exley. Bass, Hugh McIntyre; Drums, Greg Curnoe; Guitar, John Clement, Murray Favro; Kazoo, John Boyle; Pratt-a-various, Art Pratten; Vocals, Theremin, Bill Exley. Recorded live at the Toronto Music Gallery, February 4th 1978. 5:14 Yuseff Yancy, Garret List, “Sweetness” Garrett List / A-1 Band, “Sweetness” from ‎Fire & Ice (1982 Lovely Music). Alto Saxophone, Byard Lancaster; Maestro Theremin, Electronics, Youseff Yancy; Vocals, Genie Sherman. 4:11. Todd Clark, “Into the Vision” from Into The Vision (1984 T.M.I. Productions). Guitar, Cheetah Chrome; Theremin, Bat-wing Guitar with ARP Avatar, Todd Clark; Found Vocals, William Burroughs. 8:38 Danielle Dax, “Yummer Yummer Man” from Yummer Yummer Man (1985 Awesome). UK artist Danielle Dax. Wah Guitar, Steve Reeves; Guitar, Slide Guitar, Organ, David Knight; Producer, arranger, lyrics, Vocals, Theremin, Tapes, Danielle Dax; Drums, Martyn Watts; Music by Danielle Dax, David Knight. Dax is an experimental English musician, artist, and producer, born as Danielle Gardner. 3:16 Mars Everywhere, “Attack of the Giant Squid” from Visitor Parking (1989 Audiofile Tapes). Cassette release from this space-rock band from the 1980s. Electric Guitar, Electronics, Tape, Ernie Falcone; Synthesizer, Theremin, Keyboards, Tom Fenwick. 5:03 Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, “Vacuum of Loneliness” from The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion (1992 Caroline). This NY band uses an original Moog Vanguard (circa 1960). This rock and blues band was active from 1991 until 2016. Baritone Saxophone, John Linnell; Drums, Russell Simins; Guitar, Vocals, Judah Bauer; Tenor Saxophone, Kurt Hoffman; Trumpet, Frank London; Vocals, Guitar, Moog Vanguard Theremin, Jon Spencer. Here is a video of a live performance of The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion with a Moog Vanguard Theremin (just after the 39-minute mark). 3:02 Calvin Owens and His Blues Orchestra, “Vincent Van Gogh” from That's Your Booty (1996 Sawdust Alley). Trumpet solo and vocals, Calvin Owens; Maestro Theremin, Youseff Yancy; Alto Saxophone, Tenor Saxophone, Eddy De Vos, Kurt van Herck, Peter Vandendriessche; Backing Vocals, B. J. Scott, Frank Deruytter, Mieke Belange, Yan De Bryun; Baritone Saxophone, Bo Vander Werf, Johan Vandendriessche; Bass, Ban Buls, Roman Korohek; Cello, B. Piatkowski, X. Gao; Drums, Cesar Janssens, Laurent Mercier; Guitar, Marty Townsend, Yan De Bryun; Keyboards, Rafael Van Goubergen; Organ, Peter Van Bogart; Saxophone, Jimmy Heath; Tenor Saxophone, David "Fathead" Newman, Shelly Caroll Paul; Trombone, Marc Godfroid, Yan De Breker; Trumpet, Andy Haderer, Rüdiger Baldauf; Violin, D. Ivanov, E. Kouyoumdjian; Vocals, Archie Bell, Otis Clay, Ruby Wilson. 6:23. David Simons, “Music For Theremin And Gamelan (1998-1999), parts I and II” from Fung Sha Noon (2009 Tzadik). Theremin, Rob Schwimmer; Gamelan, Theremin, Sampler, MIDI Controller, Percussion, Marimba, Zoomoozophone, 43 Pitch Zither, Harmonic Canon, Slide Guitar, Chromelodeon harmonium, David Simons; Gamelan, Barbara Benary, Denman Maroney, John Morton, Laura Liben. 6:09 (part I) and 6:29 (part II) Lydia Kavina, “Voice of the Theremin,” composed by Vladimir Komarov from Music from The Ether, Original Works For Theremin (1999 Mode). TVox Tour model theremin, Lydia Kavina. Arranged, mixed, performed by Lydia Kavina. 8:11 Lydia Kavina, “Free Music #1,” composed by Percy Grainger from Music from The Ether, Original Works For Theremin (1999 Mode). TVox Tour model theremin, Lydia Kavina; mixed and spatialized, Steve Puntolillo. This work was originally written for theremin although Grainger had many ideas around how this type of “free music” should be played. This native Australian was fascinated by the sounds of the real world and invented a mechanical machine for making such sounds. In 1938, Grainger said, "...Out in nature we hear all kinds of lovely and touching 'free' (non-harmonic) combinations of tones, yet we are unable to take up these beauties and expressiveness into the art of music because of our archaic notions of harmony.” His adaptation of free music for theremin was an attempt to create sounds that were new to music. This version was multitracked by Kavina and an old acquaintance of mine, sound engineer Steve Puntolillo, to recreate the parts for four theremins. 1:19 The Kurstins, “Sunshine” from Gymnopedie (2000 Rouge Records). Composed by Roy Ayers; Minimoog, ARP String Ensemble, Organ, Guitar, Sampler, Drums, Rhodes Electric Piano, Greg Kurstin; Moog Theremin, Theremin Vocoder, Moogerfoogers, Pamelia Kurstin. 3:47 The Kurstins, “Outside” from Gymnopedie (2000 Rouge Records). Composed by Greg Kurstin; Minimoog, ARP String Ensemble, Organ, Guitar, Sampler, Drums, Rhodes Electric Piano, Greg Kurstin; Moog Theremin, Theremin Vocoder, Moogerfoogers, Pamelia Kurstin. 3:55 Hecate's Angels, “Shrink-Wrapped Soul” from Saints And Scoundrels (2004 redFLY Records). Los Angeles-based Pietra Wexstun is a composer, singer, keyboard and theremin player. Vocals, Farfisa organ, piano, theremin, sound effects, Pietra Wexstun; bass, Bill Blatt; guitar, Stan Ridgway; drums, Elmo Smith. 3:52 Pamelia Kurstin, “Barrow In Furness” from Thinking Out Loud (2007 Tzadik). From Kurstin first solo record. Composed, Produced, Theremin With L6 Looping Pedals and Microsynth Pedal, Guitar, Piano, Pamelia Kurstin. She played the Etherwave Pro Theremin by Moog fo this recording. Pamelia Kurstin, video with she and Bob Moogdiscussing the Etherwave Pro when it was introduced. Kurstin uses the Etherwave Pro Theremin by Moog Music. 5:12 Barbara Bucholtz, “SixEight” from Moonstruck (2008 Intuition Records). Bucholtz was a German theremin player and composer. She played a TVox Tour model theremin. Drums, Sebastian Merk; Music By, Contrabass Flute, Sampler, programmed, engineered, produced, and recorded by Tilmann Dehnhard; Trumpet, Arve Henriksen. 4:01 Herb Deutsch, “Longing” from Theremin One Hundred Years (2020 Electronic Sound). Composer, Herb Deutsch; Piano, Nancy Deutsch; Moog Melodia Theremin, Daryl Kubian. Recording from 2012. The beloved Herb Deutsch, who died recently at age 90, was an early collaborator with Bob Moog on the creation of the synthesizer. Herb became acquainted with Bob by purchasing a Theremin kit—a Moog Melodia model, in the early 1960s. He was primarily responsible for convincing Moog to add a keyboard to his modular unit. Also, this is taken from a terrific compilation of modern Theremin artists to benefit the New York Theremin Society. Check it out. 3:38 M83, “Sitting” from M83 (2016 Lowlands Festival). This is a live recording from Holland. “Sitting” was a song on M83's first album in 2001. But it didn't have a theremin part until they decided to spice-up the live interpretation of the song in 2016. Jordan Lawlor uses a Moog Theremini when M83 performs this in concert. He puts down his guitar, grabs some drum sticks, beats a rhythm on some electronic drums while dancing in place and moving his hands around a theremin. You can hear the theremin in this track but don't mistake it for the keyboard tones that Gonzalez is playing on his modular system. A longer sequence of theremin begins at 1:38 in the audio. You can view the video here, beginning at 26:54 into the show. M83 is a French electronica band founded in 1999 by Anthony Gonzalez, who remains the only sole member from the original outfit. Performing members on this live tour included: Anthony Gonzalez, lead vocals, modular synthesizers, keyboards, guitars, piano, bass, drums, percussion, programming, arrangement, mixer, production; Loïc Maurin, drums, percussion, guitar, bass, keyboards; Jordan Lawlor, guitars, vocals, multi-instrumentalist; Kaela Sinclair, Dave Smith and M-Audio keyboards, vocals; Joe Berry, piano, synthesizers, electronic wind instrument, saxophone. 4:03 Radio Science Orchestra, “Theme from Doctor Who” (2019). This UK-based band unites theremin, ondes martenot, Moog and modular electronics, for its performances. They've played such events as the TEDSummit, the British Library, and Glastonbury Festival. They made a concert recording with Lydia Kavina in 2009 of the Theme from Doctor Who. This version was made more recently and appears to also include Kavina. She plays the TVox Tour model theremin made by her husband G. Pavlov. 2:18 Thorwald Jørgensen, Kamilla Bystrova, “Moderato” from Air électrique: Original Music For Theremin And Piano (2020 Zefir). Jørgensen is an accomplished Dutch classical theremin player. Piano, Kamilla Bystrova; Liner Notes, Design, Moog Etherwave Pro Theremin, Thorwald Jørgensen. 2:10 Dorit Chrysler, “A Happy Place” from Theremin One Hundred Years (2020 Electronic Sound). Issued with the magazine's 7” vinyl and magazine bundle Electronic Sound Magazine, issue 70. Written, produced, and performed by Dorit Chrysler. 2:06 Dorit Chrysler, “Calder Plays Theremin Side A” from Calder Plays Theremin (2023 NY Theremin Society/Fridman Gallery) Written for Theremin Orchestra in 5 Movements, Chrysler's work is based on a commissioned sound piece by The Museum of Modern Art in conjunction with the exhibition Alexander Calder: Modern from the Start. Chrysler identified two of Alexander Calder's sculptures, Snow Flurry, I (1948) and Man-Eater with Pennants (1945), to interact and “play” multiple Theremins on site. I believe the Theremin are various Moog models. Calder Plays Theremin is a co-release of the NY Theremin Society and Fridman Gallery. 8:48   Opening background tracks: Ronnie Montrose, “Open Fire” (excerpt) from Open Fire (1978 Warner Brothers). Bass, Alan Fitzgerald; Drums, Rick Shlosser; Guitar, Custom-built Theremin mpounted to his electric guitar, Ronnie Montrose; composed by Edgar Winter, Ronnie Montrose. 2:09 Hooverphonic, “‎L'Odeur Animale” from The Magnificent Tree (2000 Columbia). Guitar, Raymond Geerts; Keyboards, Bass, Programmed by Alex Callier; Vocals, Geike Arnaert; Maestro Theremin, trumpet, Youseff Yancy; Fairlight, Effects, Dan Lacksman. 3:46. Opening and closing sequences voiced by Anne Benkovitz. Additional opening, closing, and other incidental music by Thom Holmes. See my companion blog that I write for the Bob Moog Foundation: For additional notes, please see my blog, Noise and Notations.

Show #976 Passed And Gone Blues 01. Christine Perfect - No Road Is The Right Road (2:50) (Christine Perfect, Blue Horizon, 1970) 02. Chicken Shack - When The Train Comes Back (3:31) (Forty Blue Fingers, Freshly Packed And Ready To Serve, Blue Horizon, 1968) 03. Chicken Shack - I Wanna See My Baby (3:52) (OK Ken, Blue Horizon, 1969) 04. Christine Perfect - I'd Rather Go Blind (3:11) (Christine Perfect, Blue Horizon, 1970) 05. Boyd Small - Can You Help (3:34) (This Time No Lies, Cool Buzz Records, 1998) 06. Boyd Small - Belair (4:05) (...So Easy, Cool Buzz Records, 2001) 07. Boyd Small - Here Come The Tears (2:51) (Four + One, Cool Buzz Records, 2002) 08. Ramsey Lewis Trio - The 'In' Crowd (3:22) (The In Crowd, Argo Records, 1965) 09. Jerry Lee Lewis - Lewis Boogie (2:03) (78 RPM Shellac, Sun Records, 1956) 10. Bobby Rydell - I Dig Girls (2:30) (45 RPM Single, Cameo Records, 1959) 11. Jerry Butler & the Impressions - For Your Precious Love (2:44) (45 RPM Single, Vee-Jay Records, 1958) 12. Mable John - Who Wouldn't Love A Man Like That (2:43) (45 RPM Single, Tamla Records, 1960) 13. Mable John - Your Good Thing (Is About to End) (3:02) (45 RPM Single, Stax Records, 1966) 14. Syl Johnson - Dresses Too Short (2:47) (Dresses Too Short, Twinight Records, 1968) 15. Marvin Gaye - Can I Get A Witness (2:52) (45 RPM Single, Tamla Records, 1963) 16. The Temptations - Ain't Too Proud To Beg (2:33) (45 RPM Single, Gordy Records, 1966) 17. Bob Dylan - Temporary Like Achilles (5:06) (Blonde On Blonde, Columbia Records, 1966) 18. Dr. Feelgood - Paradise (3:48) (Sneakin' Suspicion, United Artists Records, 1977) 19. Five Satins - In The Still Of The Nite (3:02) (45 RPM Single, Standord Records, 1956) 20. Buddy Holly & the Crickets - That'll Be the Day (2:17) (45 RPM Single, Brunswick Records, 1957) 21. Janis Joplin - Mercedes Benz (1:40) (Pearl, CBS Records, 1971) 22. Doobie Brothers - Cotton Mouth (3:39) (Toulouse Street, Warner Bros Records, 1972) 23. Seals & Crofts - Cotton Mouth (3:46) (Down Home, TA Records, 1970) 24. Procol Harum - Lime Street Blues (3:02) (45 RPM Single, Deram Records, 1967) 25. Ernie Andrews with Terrell Prude Trio - River's Invitation (Part I+II) (4:33) (45 RPM Single, Tangerine Records, 1965) 26. Barbara Morrison - Don't Touch Me (5:31) (I Know How To Do It, Blue Lady Records, 1996) 27. Lionel Hampton (ft. Janet Thurlow) - I Can't Believe That You're in Love With Me (3:12) (78 RPM Shellac, MGM Records, 1951) 28. Paul Butterfield Blues Band - I Got My Mojo Working (3:36) (The Paul Butterfield Blues Band, Elektra Records, 1965) Bandana Blues is and will always be a labor of love. Please help Spinner deal with the costs of hosting & bandwidth. Visit www.bandanablues.com and hit the tipjar. Any amount is much appreciated, no matter how small. Thank you.

For Video Edition, Please Click and Subscribe Here: https://youtu.be/MwrD9XuKm7o Scott Brogan was born towards the end of the Baby Boomer generation. Growing up watching The Wizard of Oz was a big deal. a big deal. Scott's interest in Judy Garland began after he bought the MGM Records soundtrack to the film. He loved Judy's voice, so he purchased the first Judy Garland album he saw. The cover intrigued him because it featured the mature Garland, who was new to him. From then on, he would buy any Garland album he could find. TOM JUDSON has been just about everywhere and done just about everything. He's written magazine columns and starred in adult films. This past September he walked 80 miles on the Cotswold Way in rural England. If you've been to a restaurant in the past 40 years, Tom was probably your waiter. In this new show Judson, who has appeared on, Off and Off-Off Broadway as an actor, writer and composer, and who has sparkled as a world-explorer, adult film star and magazine columnist, tells about how the moon has enthralled us since time immemorial.  Sean Patrick Murtagh made his cabaret debut in 2019 with his show, Mario! A Salute to the Great Lanza, and took the New York City night life scene by storm. Garnering much attention along with glowing reviews, Sean Patrick went on to win the 2020 MAC Award for Best Debut. To celebrate, Sean Patrick announced he would be presenting a new virtual concert series, The Mario 100!, led to two 2021 BroadwayWorld Cabaret Awards for Best Vocalist and Best Special Event, Solo as well as the 2022 MAC Award for Best Male Vocalist. Harvey Brownstone is a retired judge of the Ontario Court of Justice and the first openly gay judge in Canada. He is also a bestselling author and host of a television and internet talk show.

It's time to take a break from the stresses of life and all of the people who are mean to you with Ben Silverio and Andy Huttel. They're pop culture observers/zany podcasters/ excellent friends, who have banded together to rib each other's sandwich choices, do impressions and talk about every movie including the one they watched for this podcast. This week we're taking the time to deepen our collective knowledge about the technologies, features and art of the movie with a little edutainment. This is our accidental musical episode featuring shallow dives into Downtown by Petula Clark and I've Got My Mind Set On You by James Ray. Though, in a surprise to no one, the guys also got distracted with covers of these songs, covers of other songs and then martinis. Music Featured in this Episode:“Love of Power” written and performed by Marlon Longid, written for Time 2 Party“Downtown” performed by Petula Clark, written by Tony Hatch. Property of Universal-McA Music Publishing Div. of Universal Music Corp.'“Downtown” performed by the B-52s. Property Kobalt Music Copyrights“I've Got My Mind Set On You” performed by James Ray, written by Rudy Clark. Property of MGM Records.“[This Song's Just] Six Words Long” performed by Weird Al Yankovic, written by Rudy Clark & “Weird Al” Yankovic. Property of Volcano/Way Moby.“Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” performed by The Four Lads, lyrics by Jimmy Kennedy and music by Nat Simon. Released by Columbia Records“Downtown (Downtempo)” by Anya Taylor-Joy. From the soundtrack to “Last Night in Soho” Property of MGM Records. Ben Silverio is @Bsilverio20 on Twitter and IG. Andy Huttel is @Andohasissues on Twitter. Ansel Burch is @Indecisionist on Twitter and @TheIndecisionist on IG. Make sure you're subscribed because four Mondays a month, it's #Time2Party.

Label: MGM 13322Year: 1965Condition: M-Last Price: $35.00. Not currently available for sale.Here's a beautiful copy of the original MGM pressing of this swamp-rock classic. These tracks had earlier been released on the small Texas label XL, a 45 that could fetch $1,000 or more if you find a Near Mint copy! :-) Besides the well-known and -loved A side, which Dave Marsh pegs at #78 in his Top 1,001 singles list, be sure to check out the totally cool blues-rock performance on the flip. This is precisely the kind of sound that British groups like the Animals and Stones were striving for at the time and is one of the foundations of what became known as "Garage Rock." (Check out the mp3 snippet we've added to our "jukebox.") By the way, this very short (2:05!) B side wasn't included on any of Sam The Sham's albums... it was a non-album cut available only this 45. Note: This 45 record comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. The labels and vinyl grade Near Mint, with only very subtle flaws. I'm delighted to report that both sides of this important single retain pristine Mint audio — and man, is it a big sound!

Shades of the Same Color Email: audioofftheshelf@gmail.com. Instagram: @audioofftheshelf Twitter: @AOTS204 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/audioofftheshelf David Hillyard & The Rocksteady Seven. “The Fool.” Playtime. Hellcat Records, 1999. CD. LP. Impalas, The. “Fool, Fool, Fool.” Sorry (I Ran All The Way Home)/Fool, Fool, Fool. MGM Records, 1959. 7” Record. Martha & The Vandellas. “Love (Makes Me Do Foolish Things).” You've Been In Love Too Long/Love (Makes Me Do Foolish Things). Gordy Records, 1965. 7” Record. Slim & Paulette. “Love Makes Me Do Foolish Things.” Trojan Reggae Duets Box Set. Trojan Records, 2004. 3CD. LP. Bill Evans Trio. “My Foolish Heart.” Waltz for Debby. Riverside Records, 2011. Vinyl. LP. Hepcat. “The Fool.” Scientific. Better Youth Organization, 1996. Vinyl. LP. Copyright Disclaimer under Section 107 of the copyright act 1976, allowance is made for fair use for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favour of fair use.

Episode 143 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Summer in the City'”, and at the short but productive career of the Lovin' Spoonful.  Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a ten-minute bonus episode available, on "The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Any More" by the Walker Brothers and the strange career of Scott Walker. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ Resources As usual, all the songs excerpted in the podcast can be heard in full at Mixcloud. This box set contains all four studio albums by the Lovin' Spoonful, plus the one album by "The Lovin' Spoonful featuring Joe Butler", while this CD contains their two film soundtracks (mostly inessential instrumental filler, apart from "Darling Be Home Soon") Information about harmonicas and harmonicists comes from Harmonicas, Harps, and Heavy Breathers by Kim Field. There are only three books about the Lovin' Spoonful, but all are worth reading. Do You Believe in Magic? by Simon Wordsworth is a good biography of the band, while his The Magic's in the Music is a scrapbook of press cuttings and reminiscences. Meanwhile Steve Boone's Hotter Than a Match Head: My Life on the Run with the Lovin' Spoonful has rather more discussion of the actual music than is normal in a musician's autobiography. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript Let's talk about the harmonica for a while. The harmonica is an instrument that has not shown up a huge amount in the podcast, but which was used in a fair bit of the music we've covered. We've heard it for example on records by Bo Diddley: [Excerpt: Bo Diddley, "I'm a Man"] and by Bob Dylan: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Blowin' in the Wind"] and the Rolling Stones: [Excerpt: The Rolling Stones, "Little Red Rooster"] In most folk and blues contexts, the harmonicas used are what is known as a diatonic harmonica, and these are what most people think of when they think of harmonicas at all. Diatonic harmonicas have the notes of a single key in them, and if you want to play a note in another key, you have to do interesting tricks with the shape of your mouth to bend the note. There's another type of harmonica, though, the chromatic harmonica. We've heard that a time or two as well, like on "Love Me Do" by the Beatles: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Love Me Do"] Chromatic harmonicas have sixteen holes, rather than the diatonic harmonica's ten, and they also have a slide which you can press to raise the note by a semitone, meaning you can play far more notes than on a diatonic harmonica -- but they're also physically harder to play, requiring a different kind of breathing to pull off playing one successfully. They're so different that John Lennon would distinguish between the two instruments -- he'd describe a chromatic harmonica as a harmonica, but a diatonic harmonica he would call a harp, like blues musicians often did: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Love These Goon Shows"] While the chromatic harmonica isn't a particularly popular instrument in rock music, it is one that has had some success in other fields. There have been some jazz and light-orchestral musicians who have become famous playing the instrument, like the jazz musician Max Geldray, who played in those Goon Shows the Beatles loved so much: [Excerpt: Max Geldray, "C-Jam Blues"] And in the middle of the twentieth century there were a few musicians who succeeded in making the harmonica into an instrument that was actually respected in serious classical music. By far the most famous of these was Larry Adler, who became almost synonymous with the instrument in the popular consciousness, and who reworked many famous pieces of music for the instrument: [Excerpt: Larry Adler, "Rhapsody in Blue"] But while Adler was the most famous classical harmonicist of his generation, he was not generally considered the best by other musicians. That was, rather, a man named John Sebastian. Sebastian, who chose to take his middle name as a surname partly to Anglicise his name but also, it seems, at least in part as tribute to Johann Sebastian Bach (which incidentally now makes it really, really difficult to search for copies of his masterwork "John Sebastian Plays Bach", as Internet searches uniformly think you're searching just for the composer...) started out like almost all harmonica players as an amateur playing popular music. But he quickly got very, very, good, and by his teens he was already teaching other children, including at a summer camp run by Albert Hoxie, a musician and entrepreneur who was basically single-handedly responsible for the boom in harmonica sales in the 1920s and 1930s, by starting up youth harmonica orchestras -- dozens or even hundreds of kids, all playing harmonica together, in a semi-militaristic youth organisation something like the scouts, but with harmonicas instead of woggles and knots. Hoxie's group and the various organisations copying it led to there being over a hundred and fifty harmonica orchestras in Chicago alone, and in LA in the twenties and thirties a total of more than a hundred thousand children passed through harmonica orchestras inspired by Hoxie. Hoxie's youth orchestras were largely responsible for the popularity of the harmonica as a cheap instrument for young people, and thus for its later popularity in the folk and blues worlds. That was only boosted in the Second World War by the American Federation of Musicians recording ban, which we talked about in the early episodes of the podcast -- harmonicas had never been thought of as a serious instrument, and so most professional harmonica players were not members of the AFM, but were considered variety performers and were part of the American Guild of Variety Artists, along with singers, ukulele players, and musical saw players. Of course, the war did also create a problem, because the best harmonicas were made in Germany by the Hohner company, but soon a lot of American companies started making cheap harmonicas to fill the gap in the market. There's a reason the cliche of the GI in a war film playing a harmonica in the trenches exists, and it's largely because of Hoxie. And Hoxie was based in Philadelphia, where John Sebastian lived as a kid, and he mentored the young player, who soon became a semi-professional performer. Sebastian's father was a rich banker, and discouraged him from becoming a full-time musician -- the plan was that after university, Sebastian would become a diplomat. But as part of his preparation for that role, he was sent to spend a couple of years studying at the universities of Rome and Florence, learning about Italian culture. On the boat back, though, he started talking to two other passengers, who turned out to be the legendary Broadway songwriting team Rodgers and Hart, the writers of such classic songs as "Blue Moon" and "My Funny Valentine": [Excerpt: Ella Fitzgerald, "My Funny Valentine"] Sebastian talked to his new friends, and told them that he was feeling torn between being a musician and being in the foreign service like his father wanted. They both told him that in their experience some people were just born to be artists, and that those people would never actually find happiness doing anything else. He took their advice, and decided he was going to become a full-time harmonica player. He started out playing in nightclubs, initially playing jazz and swing, but only while he built up a repertoire of classical music. He would rehearse with a pianist for three hours every day, and would spend the rest of his time finding classical works, especially baroque ones, and adapting them for the harmonica. As he later said “I discovered sonatas by Telemann, Veracini, Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, Hasse, Marcello, Purcell, and many others, which were written to be played on violin, flute, oboe, musette, even bagpipes... The composer seemed to be challenging each instrument to create the embellishments and ornaments to suit its particular voice. . . . I set about choosing works from this treasure trove that would best speak through my instrument.” Soon his nightclub repertoire was made up entirely of these classical pieces, and he was making records like John Sebastian Plays Bach: [Excerpt: John Sebastian, "Flute Sonata in B Minor BWV1030 (J.S. Bach)"] And while Sebastian was largely a lover of baroque music above all other forms, he realised that he would have to persuade new composers to write new pieces for the instrument should he ever hope for it to have any kind of reputation as a concert instrument, so he persuaded contemporary composers to write pieces like George Kleinsinger's "Street Corner Concerto", which Sebastian premiered with the New York Philharmonic: [Excerpt: John Sebastian, "Street Corner Concerto"] He became the first harmonica player to play an entirely classical repertoire, and regarded as the greatest player of his instrument in the world. The oboe player Jay S Harrison once wrote of seeing him perform "to accomplish with success a program of Mr. Sebastian's scope is nothing short of wizardry. . . . He has vast technical facility, a bulging range of colors, and his intentions are ever musical and sophisticated. In his hands the harmonica is no toy, no simple gadget for the dispensing of homespun tunes. Each single number of the evening was whittled, rounded, polished, and poised. . . . Mr. Sebastian's playing is uncanny." Sebastian came from a rich background, and he managed to earn enough as a classical musician to live the lifestyle of a rich artistic Bohemian. During the forties and fifties he lived in Greenwich Village with his family -- apart from a four-year period living in Rome from 1951 to 55 -- and Eleanor Roosevelt was a neighbour, while Vivian Vance, who played Ethel Mertz on I Love Lucy, was the godmother of his eldest son. But while Sebastian's playing was entirely classical, he was interested in a wider variety of music. When he would tour Europe, he would often return having learned European folk songs, and while he was living in Greenwich Village he would often be visited by people like Burl Ives, Woody Guthrie, and other folk singers living in the area. And that early influence rubbed off on Sebastian's son, John Benson Sebastian, although young John gave up trying to learn the harmonica the first time he tried, because he didn't want to be following too closely in his father's footsteps. Sebastian junior did, though, take up the guitar, inspired by the first wave rock and rollers he was listening to on Alan Freed's show, and he would later play the harmonica, though the diatonic harmonica rather than the chromatic. In case you haven't already figured it out, John Benson Sebastian, rather than his father, is a principal focus of this episode, and so to avoid confusion, from this point on, when I refer to "John Sebastian" or "Sebastian" without any qualifiers, I'm referring to the younger man. When I refer to "John Sebastian Sr" I'm talking about the father. But it was John Sebastian Sr's connections, in particular to the Bohemian folk and blues scenes, which gave his more famous son his first connection to that world of his own, when Sebastian Sr appeared in a TV show, in November 1960, put together by Robert Herridge, a TV writer and producer who was most famous for his drama series but who had also put together documentaries on both classical music and jazz, including the classic performance documentary The Sound of Jazz. Herridge's show featured both Sebastian Sr and the country-blues player Lightnin' Hopkins: [Excerpt: Lightnin' Hopkins, "Blues in the Bottle"] Hopkins was one of many country-blues players whose career was having a second wind after his discovery by the folk music scene. He'd been recording for fourteen years, putting out hundreds of records, but had barely performed outside Houston until 1959, when the folkies had picked up on his work, and in October 1960 he had been invited to play Carnegie Hall, performing with Pete Seeger and Joan Baez. Young John Sebastian had come along with his dad to see the TV show be recorded, and had an almost Damascene conversion -- he'd already heard Hopkins' recordings, but had never seen anything like his live performances. He was at that time attending a private boarding school, Blair Academy, and his roommate at the school also had his own apartment, where Sebastian would sometimes stay. Soon Lightnin' Hopkins was staying there as well, as somewhere he could live rent-free while he was in New York. Sebastian started following Hopkins around and learning everything he could, being allowed by the older man to carry his guitar and buy him gin, though the two never became close. But eventually, Hopkins would occasionally allow Sebastian to play with him when he played at people's houses, which he did on occasion. Sebastian became someone that Hopkins trusted enough that when he was performing on a bill with someone else whose accompanist wasn't able to make the gig and Sebastian put himself forward, Hopkins agreed that Sebastian would be a suitable accompanist for the evening. The singer he accompanied that evening was a performer named Valentine Pringle, who was a protege of Harry Belafonte, and who had a similar kind of sound to Paul Robeson. Sebastian soon became Pringle's regular accompanist, and played on his first album, I Hear America Singing, which was also the first record on which the great trumpet player Hugh Masakela played. Sadly, Paul Robeson style vocals were so out of fashion by that point that that album has never, as far as I can tell, been issued in a digital format, and hasn't even been uploaded to YouTube.  But this excerpt from a later recording by Pringle should give you some idea of the kind of thing he was doing: [Excerpt: Valentine Pringle, "Go 'Way From My Window"] After these experiences, Sebastian started regularly going to shows at Greenwich Village folk clubs, encouraged by his parents -- he had an advantage over his peers because he'd grown up in the area and had artistic parents, and so he was able to have a great deal of freedom that other people in their teens weren't. In particular, he would always look out for any performances by the great country blues performer Mississippi John Hurt. Hurt had made a few recordings for Okeh records in 1928, including an early version of "Stagger Lee", titled "Stack O'Lee": [Excerpt: Mississippi John Hurt, "Stack O'Lee Blues"] But those records had been unsuccessful, and he'd carried on working on a farm. and not performed other than in his tiny home town of Avalon, Mississippi, for decades. But then in 1952, a couple of his tracks had been included on the Harry Smith Anthology, and as a result he'd come to the attention of the folk and blues scholar community. They'd tried tracking him down, but been unable to until in the early sixties one of them had discovered a track on one of Hurt's records, "Avalon Blues", and in 1963, thirty-five years after he'd recorded six flop singles, Mississippi John Hurt became a minor star, playing the Newport Folk Festival and appearing on the Tonight Show. By this time, Sebastian was a fairly well-known figure in Greenwich Village, and he had become quite a virtuoso on the harmonica himself, and would walk around the city wearing a holster-belt containing harmonicas in a variety of different keys. Sebastian became a huge fan of Hurt, and would go and see him perform whenever Hurt was in New York. He soon found himself first jamming backstage with Hurt, and then performing with him on stage for the last two weeks of a residency. He was particularly impressed with what he called Hurt's positive attitude in his music -- something that Sebastian would emulate in his own songwriting. Sebastian was soon invited to join a jug band, called the Even Dozen Jug Band. Jug band music was a style of music that first became popular in the 1920s, and had many of the same musical elements as the music later known as skiffle. It was played on a mixture of standard musical instruments -- usually portable, "folky" ones like guitar and harmonica -- and improvised homemade instruments, like the spoons, the washboard, and comb and paper. The reason they're called jug bands is because they would involve someone blowing into a jug to make a noise that sounded a bit like a horn -- much like the coffee pot groups we talked about way back in episode six. The music was often hokum music, and incorporated elements of what we'd now call blues, vaudeville, and country music, though at the time those genres were nothing like as distinct as they're considered today: [Excerpt: Cincinnati Jug Band, "Newport Blues"] The Even Dozen Jug Band actually ended up having thirteen members, and it had a rather remarkable lineup. The leader was Stefan Grossman, later regarded as one of the greatest fingerpicking guitarists in America, and someone who will be coming up in other contexts in future episodes I'm sure, and they also featured David Grisman, a mandolin player who would later play with the Grateful Dead among many others;  Steve Katz, who would go on to be a founder member of Blood, Sweat and Tears and produce records for Lou Reed; Maria D'Amato, who under her married name Maria Muldaur would go on to have a huge hit with "Midnight at the Oasis"; and Joshua Rifkin, who would later go on to become one of the most important scholars of Bach's music of the latter half of the twentieth century, but who is best known for his recordings of Scott Joplin's piano rags, which more or less single-handedly revived Joplin's music from obscurity and created the ragtime revival of the 1970s: [Excerpt: Joshua Rifkin, "Maple Leaf Rag"] Unfortunately, despite the many talents involved, a band as big as that was uneconomical to keep together, and the Even Dozen Jug Band only played four shows together -- though those four shows were, as Muldaur later remembered, "Carnegie Hall twice, the Hootenanny television show and some church". The group did, though, make an album for Elektra records, produced by Paul Rothchild. Indeed, it was Rothchild who was the impetus for the group forming -- he wanted to produce a record of a jug band, and had told Grossman that if he got one together, he'd record it: [Excerpt: The Even Dozen Jug Band, "On the Road Again"] On that album, Sebastian wasn't actually credited as John Sebastian -- because he was playing harmonica on the album, and his father was such a famous harmonica player, he thought it better if he was credited by his middle name, so he was John Benson for this one album. The Even Dozen Jug Band split up after only a few months, with most of the band more interested in returning to university than becoming professional musicians, but Sebastian remained in touch with Rothchild, as they both shared an interest in the drug culture, and Rothchild started using him on sessions for other artists on Elektra, which was rapidly becoming one of the biggest labels for the nascent counterculture. The first record the two worked together on after the Even Dozen Jug Band was sparked by a casual conversation. Vince Martin and Fred Neil saw Sebastian walking down the street wearing his harmonica holster, and were intrigued and asked him if he played. Soon he and his friend Felix Pappalardi were accompanying Martin and Neil on stage, and the two of them were recording as the duo's accompanists: [Excerpt: Vince Martin and Fred Neil, "Tear Down the Walls"] We've mentioned Neil before, but if you don't remember him, he was one of the people around whom the whole Greenwich Village scene formed -- he was the MC and organiser of bills for many of the folk shows of the time, but he's now best known for writing the songs "Everybody's Talkin'", recorded famously by Harry Nilsson, and "The Dolphins", recorded by Tim Buckley. On the Martin and Neil album, Tear Down The Walls, as well as playing harmonica, Sebastian acted essentially as uncredited co-producer with Rothchild, but Martin and Neil soon stopped recording for Elektra. But in the meantime, Sebastian had met the most important musical collaborator he would ever have, and this is the start of something that will become a minor trend in the next few years, of important musical collaborations happening because of people being introduced by Cass Elliot. Cass Elliot had been a singer in a folk group called the Big 3 -- not the same group as the Merseybeat group -- with Tim Rose, and the man who would be her first husband, Jim Hendricks (not the more famous guitarist of a similar name): [Excerpt: Cass Elliot and the Big 3, "The Banjo Song"] The Big 3 had split up when Elliot and Hendricks had got married, and the two married members had been looking around for other musicians to perform with, when coincidentally another group they knew also split up. The Halifax Three were a Canadian group who had originally started out as The Colonials, with a lineup of Denny Doherty, Pat LaCroix and Richard Byrne. Byrne didn't turn up for a gig, and a homeless guitar player, Zal Yanovsky, who would hang around the club the group were playing at, stepped in. Doherty and LaCroix, much to Yanovsky's objections, insisted he bathe and have a haircut, but soon the newly-renamed Halifax Three were playing Carnegie Hall and recording for Epic Records: [Excerpt: The Halifax Three, "When I First Came to This Island"] But then a plane they were in crash-landed, and the group took that as a sign that they should split up. So they did, and Doherty and Yanovsky continued as a duo, until they hooked up with Hendricks and Elliot and formed a new group, the Mugwumps. A name which may be familiar if you recognise one of the hits of a group that Doherty and Elliot were in later: [Excerpt: The Mamas and the Papas, "Creeque Alley"] But we're skipping ahead a bit there. Cass Elliot was one of those few people in the music industry about whom it is impossible to find anyone with a bad word to say, and she was friendly with basically everyone, and particularly good at matching people up with each other. And on February the 7th 1964, she invited John Sebastian over to watch the Beatles' first performance on the Ed Sullivan Show. Like everyone in America, he was captivated by the performance: [Excerpt: The Beatles, "I Want to Hold Your Hand (live on the Ed Sullivan Show)"] But Yanovsky was also there, and the two played guitar together for a bit, before retreating to opposite sides of the room. And then Elliot spent several hours as a go-between, going to each man and telling him how much the other loved and admired his playing and wanted to play more with him. Sebastian joined the Mugwumps for a while, becoming one of the two main instrumentalists with Yanovsky, as the group pivoted from performing folk music to performing Beatles-inspired rock. But the group's management team, Bob Cavallo and Roy Silver, who weren't particularly musical people, and whose main client was the comedian Bill Cosby, got annoyed at Sebastian, because he and Yanovsky were getting on *too* well musically -- they were trading blues licks on stage, rather than sticking to the rather pedestrian arrangements that the group was meant to be performing -- and so Silver fired Sebastian fired from the group. When the Mugwumps recorded their one album, Sebastian had to sit in the control room while his former bandmates recorded with session musicians, who he thought were nowhere near up to his standard: [Excerpt: The Mugwumps, "Searchin'"] By the time that album was released, the Mugwumps had already split up. Sebastian had continued working as a session musician for Elektra, including playing on the album The Blues Project, which featured white Greenwich Village folk musicians like Eric Von Schmidt, Dave Van Ronk, and Spider John Koerner playing their versions of old blues records, including this track by Geoff Muldaur, which features Sebastian on harmonica and "Bob Landy" on piano -- a fairly blatant pseudonym: [Excerpt: Geoff Muldaur, "Downtown Blues"] Sebastian also played rhythm guitar and harmonica on the demos that became a big part of Tim Hardin's first album -- and his fourth, when the record company released the remaining demos. Sebastian doesn't appear to be on the orchestrated ballads that made Hardin's name -- songs like "Reason to Believe" and "Misty Roses" -- but he is on much of the more blues-oriented material, which while it's not anything like as powerful as Hardin's greatest songs, made up a large part of his repertoire: [Excerpt: Tim Hardin, "Ain't Gonna Do Without"] Erik Jacobsen, the producer of Hardin's records, was impressed enough by Sebastian that he got Sebastian to record lead vocals, for a studio group consisting of Sebastian, Felix Pappalardi, Jerry Yester and Henry Diltz of the Modern Folk Quartet, and a bass singer whose name nobody could later remember. The group, under the name "Pooh and the Heffalumps", recorded two Beach Boys knockoffs, "Lady Godiva" and "Rooty Toot", the latter written by Sebastian, though he would later be embarrassed by it and claim it was by his cousin: [Excerpt: Pooh and the Heffalumps, "Rooty Toot"] After that, Jacobsen became convinced that Sebastian should form a group to exploit his potential as a lead singer and songwriter. By this point, the Mugwumps had split up, and their management team had also split, with Silver taking Bill Cosby and Cavallo taking the Mugwumps, and so Sebastian was able to work with Yanovsky, and the putative group could be managed by Cavallo. But Sebastian and Yanovsky needed a rhythm section. And Erik Jacobsen knew a band that might know some people. Jacobsen was a fan of a Beatles soundalike group called the Sellouts, who were playing Greenwich Village and who were co-managed by Herb Cohen, the manager of the Modern Folk Quartet (who, as we heard a couple of episodes ago, would soon go on to be the manager of the Mothers of Invention). The Sellouts were ultra-professional by the standards  of rock groups of the time -- they even had a tape echo machine that they used on stage to give them a unique sound -- and they had cut a couple of tracks with Jacobsen producing, though I've not been able to track down copies of them. Their leader Skip Boone, had started out playing guitar in a band called the Blue Suedes, and had played in 1958 on a record by their lead singer Arthur Osborne: [Excerpt: Arthur Osborne, "Hey Ruby"] Skip Boone's brother Steve in his autobiography says that that was produced by Chet Atkins for RCA, but it was actually released on Brunswick records. In the early sixties, Skip Boone joined a band called the Kingsmen -- not the same one as the band that recorded "Louie Louie" -- playing lead guitar with his brother Steve on rhythm, a singer called Sonny Bottari, a saxophone player named King Charles, bass player Clay Sonier, and drummer Joe Butler. Sometimes Butler would get up front and sing, and then another drummer, Jan Buchner, would sit in in his place. Soon Steve Boone would replace Bonier as the bass player, but the Kingsmen had no success, and split up. From the ashes of the Kingsmen had formed the Sellouts, Skip Boone, Jerry Angus, Marshall O'Connell, and Joe Butler, who had switched from playing "Peppermint Twist" to playing "I Want to Hold Your Hand" in February 1964. Meanwhile Steve Boone went on a trip to Europe before starting at university in New York, where he hooked up again with Butler, and it was Butler who introduced him to Sebastian and Yanovsky. Sebastian and Yanovsky had been going to see the Sellouts at the behest of Jacobsen, and they'd been asking if they knew anyone else who could play that kind of material. Skip Boone had mentioned his little brother, and as soon as they met him, even before they first played together, they knew from his appearance that he would be the right bass player for them. So now they had at least the basis for a band. They hadn't played together, but Erik Jacobsen was an experienced record producer and Cavallo an experienced manager. They just needed to do some rehearsals and get a drummer, and a record contract was more or less guaranteed. Boone suggested Jan Buchner, the backup drummer from the Kingsmen, and he joined them for rehearsals. It was during these early rehearsals that Boone got to play on his first real record, other than some unreleased demos the Kingsmen had made. John Sebastian got a call from that "Bob Landy" we mentioned earlier, asking if he'd play bass on a session. Boone tagged along, because he was a fan, and when Sebastian couldn't get the parts down for some songs, he suggested that Boone, as an actual bass player, take over: [Excerpt: Bob Dylan, "Maggie's Farm"] But the new group needed a name, of course. It was John Sebastian who came up with the name they eventually chose, The Lovin' Spoonful, though Boone was a bit hesitant about it at first, worrying that it might be a reference to heroin -- Boone was from a very conservative, military, background, and knew little of drug culture and didn't at that time make much of a distinction between cannabis and heroin, though he'd started using the former -- but Sebastian was insistent. The phrase actually referred to coffee -- the name came from "Coffee Blues" by Sebastian's old idol Mississippi John Hurt – or at least Hurt always *said* it was about coffee, though in live performance he apparently made it clear that it was about cunnilingus: [Excerpt: Mississippi John Hurt, "Coffee Blues"] Their first show, at the Night Owl Club, was recorded, and there was even an attempt to release it as a CD in the 1990s, but it was left unreleased and as far as I can tell wasn't even leaked. There have been several explanations for this, but perhaps the most accurate one is just the comment from the manager of the club, who came up to the group after their two sets and told them “Hey, I don't know how to break this to you, but you guys suck.” There were apparently three different problems. They were underrehearsed -- which could be fixed with rehearsal -- they were playing too loud and hurting the patrons' ears -- which could be fixed by turning down the amps -- and their drummer didn't look right, was six years older than the rest of the group, and was playing in an out-of-date fifties style that wasn't suitable for the music they were playing. That was solved by sacking Buchner. By this point Joe Butler had left the Sellouts, and while Herb Cohen was interested in managing him as a singer, he was willing to join this new group at least for the moment. By now the group were all more-or-less permanent residents at the Albert Hotel, which was more or less a doss-house where underemployed musicians would stay, and which had its own rehearsal rooms. As well as the Spoonful, Cass Elliot and Denny Doherty lived there, as did the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. Joe Butler quickly fit into the group, and soon they were recording what became their first single, produced by Jacobsen, an original of Sebastian's called "Do You Believe in Magic?", with Sebastian on autoharp and vocals, Yanovsky on lead guitar and backing vocals, Boone on bass, Butler on drums, and Jerry Yester adding piano and backing vocals: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Do You Believe in Magic?"] For a long time, the group couldn't get a deal -- the record companies all liked the song, but said that unless the group were English they couldn't sell them at the moment. Then Phil Spector walked into the Night Owl Cafe, where the new lineup of the group had become popular, and tried to sign them up. But they turned him down -- they wanted Erik Jacobsen to produce them; they were a team. Spector's interest caused other labels to be interested, and the group very nearly signed to Elektra. But again, signing to Elektra would have meant being produced by Rothchild, and also Elektra were an album label who didn't at that time have any hit single acts, and the group knew they had hit single potential. They did record a few tracks for Elektra to stick on a blues compilation, but they knew that Elektra wouldn't be their real home. Eventually the group signed with Charley Koppelman and Don Rubin, who had started out as songwriters themselves, working for Don Kirshner. When Kirshner's organisation had been sold to Columbia, Koppelman and Rubin had gone along and ended up working for Columbia as executives. They'd then worked for Morris Levy at Roulette Records, before forming their own publishing and record company. Rather than put out records themselves, they had a deal to license records to Kama Sutra Records, who in turn had a distribution deal with MGM Records. Koppelman and Rubin were willing to take the group and their manager and producer as a package deal, and they released the group's demo of "Do You Believe In Magic?" unchanged as their first single: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Do You Believe in Magic?"] The single reached the top ten, and the group were soon in the studio cutting their first album, also titled Do You Believe In Magic? The album was a mix of songs that were part of the standard Greenwich Village folkie repertoire -- songs like Mississippi John Hurt's "Blues in the Bottle" and Fred Neil's "The Other Side of This Life" -- and a couple more originals. The group's second single was the first song that Steve Boone had co-written. It was inspired by a date he'd gone on with the photographer Nurit Wilde, who sadly for him didn't go on a second date, and who would later be the mother of Mike Nesmith's son Jason, but who he was very impressed by. He thought of her when he came up with the line "you didn't have to be so nice, I would have liked you anyway", and he and Sebastian finished up a song that became another top ten hit for the group: [Excerpt: (The Good Time Music of) The Lovin' Spoonful, "You Didn't Have to Be So Nice"] Shortly after that song was recorded, but before it was released, the group were called into Columbia TV with an intriguing proposition. Bert Schneider and Bob Rafelson, two young TV producers, were looking at producing a TV show inspired by A Hard Day's Night, and were looking for a band to perform in it. Would the Lovin' Spoonful be up for it? They were interested at first, but Boone and Sebastian weren't sure they wanted to be actors, and also it would involve the group changing its name. They'd already made a name for themselves as the Lovin' Spoonful, did they really want to be the Monkees instead? They passed on the idea. Instead, they went on a tour of the deep South as the support act to the Supremes, a pairing that they didn't feel made much sense, but which did at least allow them to watch the Supremes and the Funk Brothers every night. Sebastian was inspired by the straight four-on-the-floor beat of the Holland-Dozier-Holland repertoire, and came up with his own variation on it, though as this was the Lovin' Spoonful the end result didn't sound very Motown at all: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Daydream"] It was only after the track was recorded that Yanovsky pointed out to Sebastian that he'd unconsciously copied part of the melody of the old standard "Got a Date With an Angel": [Excerpt: Al Bowlly, "Got a Date With an Angel"] "Daydream" became the group's third top ten hit in a row, but it caused some problems for the group. The first was Kama Sutra's advertising campaign for the record, which had the words "Lovin' Spoonful Daydream", with the initials emphasised. While the group were drug users, they weren't particularly interested in being promoted for that rather than their music, and had strong words with the label. The other problem came with the Beach Boys. The group were supporting the Beach Boys on a tour in spring of 1966, when "Daydream" came out and became a hit, and they got on with all the band members except Mike Love, who they definitely did not get on with. Almost fifty years later, in his autobiography, Steve Boone would have nothing bad to say about the Wilson brothers, but calls Love "an obnoxious, boorish braggart", a "marginally talented hack" and worse, so it's safe to say that Love wasn't his favourite person in the world. Unfortunately, when "Daydream" hit the top ten, one of the promoters of the tour decided to bill the Lovin' Spoonful above the Beach Boys, and this upset Love, who understandably thought that his group, who were much better known and had much more hits, should be the headliners. If this had been any of the other Beach Boys, there would have been no problem, but because it was Love, who the Lovin' Spoonful despised, they decided that they were going to fight for top billing, and the managers had to get involved. Eventually it was agreed that the two groups would alternate the top spot on the bill for the rest of the tour. "Daydream" eventually reached number two on the charts (and number one on Cashbox) and also became the group's first hit in the UK, reaching number two here as well, and leading to the group playing a short UK tour. During that tour, they had a similar argument over billing with Mick Jagger as they'd had with Mike Love, this time over who was headlining on an appearance on Top of the Pops, and the group came to the same assessment of Jagger as they had of Love. The performance went OK, though, despite them being so stoned on hash given them by the wealthy socialite Tara Browne that Sebastian had to be woken up seconds before he started playing. They also played the Marquee Club -- Boone notes in his autobiography that he wasn't impressed by the club when he went to see it the day before their date there, because some nobody named David Bowie was playing there. But in the audience that day were George Harrison, John Lennon, Eric Clapton, Steve Winwood, Spencer Davis, and Brian Jones, most of whom partied with the group afterwards. The Lovin' Spoonful made a big impression on Lennon in particular, who put "Daydream" and "Do You Believe in Magic" in his jukebox at home, and who soon took to wearing glasses in the same round, wiry, style as the ones that Sebastian wore. They also influenced Paul McCartney, who wasn't at that gig, but who soon wrote this, inspired by "Daydream": [Excerpt: The Beatles, "Good Day Sunshine"] Unfortunately, this was more or less the high point of the group's career. Shortly after that brief UK tour, Zal Yanovsky and Steve Boone went to a party where they were given some cannabis -- and they were almost immediately stopped by the police, subjected to an illegal search of their vehicle, and arrested. They would probably have been able to get away with this -- after all, it was an illegal search, even though of course the police didn't admit to that -- were it not for the fact that Yanovsky was a Canadian citizen, and he could be deported and barred from ever re-entering the US just for being arrested. This was the first major drug bust of a rock and roll group, and there was no precedent for the group, their managers, their label or their lawyers to deal with this. And so they agreed to something they would regret for the rest of their lives. In return for being let off, Boone and Yanovsky agreed to take an undercover police officer to a party and introduce him to some of their friends as someone they knew in the record business, so he would be able to arrest one of the bigger dealers. This was, of course, something they knew was a despicable thing to do, throwing friends under the bus to save themselves, but they were young men and under a lot of pressure, and they hoped that it wouldn't actually lead to any arrests. And for almost a year, there were no serious consequences, although both Boone and Yanovsky were shaken up by the event, and Yanovsky's behaviour, which had always been erratic, became much, much worse. But for the moment, the group remained very successful. After "Daydream", an album track from their first album, "Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?" had been released as a stopgap single, and that went to number two as well. And right before the arrest, the group had been working on what would be an even bigger hit. The initial idea for "Summer in the City" actually came from John Sebastian's fourteen-year-old brother Mark, who'd written a bossa nova song called "It's a Different World". The song was, by all accounts, the kind of thing that a fourteen-year-old boy writes, but part of it had potential, and John Sebastian took that part -- giving his brother full credit -- and turned it into the chorus of a new song: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Summer in the City"] To this, Sebastian added a new verse, inspired by a riff the session player Artie Schroeck had been playing while the group recorded their songs for the Woody Allen film What's Up Tiger Lily, creating a tenser, darker, verse to go with his younger brother's chorus: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Summer in the City"] In the studio, Steve Boone came up with the instrumental arrangement, which started with drums, organ, electric piano, and guitar, and then proceeded to bass, autoharp, guitar, and percussion overdubs. The drum sound on the record was particularly powerful thanks to the engineer Roy Halee, who worked on most of Simon & Garfunkel's records. Halee put a mic at the top of a stairwell, a giant loudspeaker at the bottom, and used the stairwell as an echo chamber for the drum part. He would later use a similar technique on Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer". The track still needed another section though, and Boone suggested an instrumental part, which led to him getting an equal songwriting credit with the Sebastian brothers. His instrumental piano break was inspired by Gershwin, and the group topped it off with overdubbed city noises: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Summer in the City"] The track went to number one, becoming the group's only number one record, and it was the last track on what is by far their best album, Hums of the Lovin' Spoonful. That album produced two more top ten hits for the group, "Nashville Cats", a tribute to Nashville session players (though John Sebastian seems to have thought that Sun Records was a Nashville, rather than a Memphis, label), and the rather lovely "Rain on the Roof": [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Rain on the Roof"] But that song caused friction with the group, because it was written about Sebastian's relationship with his wife who the other members of the band despised. They also felt that the songs he was writing about their relationship were giving the group a wimpy image, and wanted to make more rockers like "Summer in the City" -- some of them had been receiving homophobic abuse for making such soft-sounding music. The group were also starting to resent Sebastian for other reasons. In a recent contract renegotiation, a "key member" clause had been put into the group's record contract, which stated that Sebastian, as far as the label was concerned, was the only important member of the group. While that didn't affect decision-making in the group, it did let the group know that if the other members did anything to upset Sebastian, he was able to take his ball away with him, and even just that potential affected the way the group thought about each other. All these factors came into play with a song called "Darling Be Home Soon", which was a soft ballad that Sebastian had written about his wife, and which was written for another film soundtrack -- this time for a film by a new director named Francis Ford Coppola. When the other band members came in to play on the soundtrack, including that track, they found that rather than being allowed to improvise and come up with their own parts as they had previously, they had to play pre-written parts to fit with the orchestration. Yanovsky in particular was annoyed by the simple part he had to play, and when the group appeared on the Ed Sullivan show to promote the record, he mugged, danced erratically, and mimed along mocking the lyrics as Sebastian sang. The song -- one of Sebastian's very best -- made a perfectly respectable number fifteen, but it was the group's first record not to make the top ten: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful, "Darling Be Home Soon"] And then to make matters worse, the news got out that someone had been arrested as a result of Boone and Yanovsky's efforts to get themselves out of trouble the year before. This was greeted with horror by the counterculture, and soon mimeographed newsletters and articles in the underground papers were calling the group part of the establishment, and calling for a general boycott of the group -- if you bought their records, attended their concerts, or had sex with any of the band members, you were a traitor. Yanovsky and Boone had both been in a bad way mentally since the bust, but Yanovsky was far worse, and was making trouble for the other members in all sorts of ways. The group decided to fire Yanovsky, and brought in Jerry Yester to replace him, giving him a severance package that ironically meant that he ended up seeing more money from the group's records than the rest of them, as their records were later bought up by a variety of shell companies that passed through the hands of Morris Levy among others, and so from the late sixties through the early nineties the group never got any royalties. For a while, this seemed to benefit everyone. Yanovsky had money, and his friendship with the group members was repaired. He released a solo single, arranged by Jack Nitzsche, which just missed the top one hundred: [Excerpt: Zal Yanovsky, "Just as Long as You're Here"] That song was written by the Bonner and Gordon songwriting team who were also writing hits for the Turtles at this time, and who were signed to Koppelman and Rubin's company. The extent to which Yanovsky's friendship with his ex-bandmates was repaired by his firing was shown by the fact that Jerry Yester, his replacement in the group, co-produced his one solo album, Alive and Well in Argentina, an odd mixture of comedy tracks, psychedelia, and tributes to the country music he loved. His instrumental version of Floyd Cramer's "Last Date" is fairly listenable -- Cramer's piano playing was a big influence on Yanovsky's guitar -- but his version of George Jones' "From Brown to Blue" makes it very clear that Zal Yanovsky was no George Jones: [Excerpt: Zal Yanovsky, "From Brown to Blue"] Yanovsky then quit music, and went into the restaurant business. The Lovin' Spoonful, meanwhile, made one further album, but the damage had been done. Everything Playing is actually a solid album, though not as good as the album before, and it produced three top forty hits, but the highest-charting was "Six O'Clock", which only made number eighteen, and the album itself made a pitiful one hundred and eighteen on the charts. The song on the album that in retrospect has had the most impact was the rather lovely "Younger Generation", which Sebastian later sang at Woodstock: [Excerpt: John Sebastian, "Younger Generation (Live at Woodstock)"] But at Woodstock he performed that alone, because by then he'd quit the group. Boone, Butler, and Yester decided to continue, with Butler singing lead, and recorded a single, "Never Going Back", produced by Yester's old bandmate from the Modern Folk Quartet Chip Douglas, who had since become a successful producer for the Monkees and the Turtles, and written by John Stewart of the Kingston Trio, who had written "Daydream Believer" for the Monkees, but the record only made number seventy-eight on the charts: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful featuring Joe Butler, "Never Going Back"] That was followed by an album by "The Lovin' Spoonful Featuring Joe Butler", Revelation: Revolution 69, a solo album by Butler in all but name -- Boone claims not to have played on it, and Butler is the only one featured on the cover, which shows a naked Butler being chased by a naked woman with a lion in front of them covering the naughty bits. The biggest hit other than "Never Going Back" from the album was "Me About You", a Bonner and Gordon song which only made number ninety-one: [Excerpt: The Lovin' Spoonful Featuring Joe Butler, "Me About You"] John Sebastian went on to have a moderately successful solo career -- as well as his appearance at Woodstock, he released several solo albums, guested on harmonica on records by the Doors, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young and others, and had a solo number one hit in 1976 with "Welcome Back", the theme song from the TV show Welcome Back, Kotter: [Excerpt: John Sebastian, "Welcome Back"] Sebastian continues to perform, though he's had throat problems for several decades that mean he can't sing many of the songs he's best known for. The original members of the Lovin' Spoonful reunited for two performances -- an appearance in Paul Simon's film One Trick Pony in 1980, and a rather disastrous induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2000. Zal Yanovsky died of a heart attack in 2002. The remaining band members remained friendly, and Boone, Butler, and Yester reunited as the Lovin' Spoonful in 1991, initially with Yester's brother Jim, who had played in The Association, latterly with other members. One of those other members in the 1990s was Yester's daughter Lena, who became Boone's fourth wife (and is as far as I can discover still married to him). Yester, Boone, and Butler continued touring together as the Lovin' Spoonful until 2017, when Jerry Yester was arrested on thirty counts of child pornography possession, and was immediately sacked from the group. The other two carried on, and the three surviving original members reunited on stage for a performance at one of the Wild Honey Orchestra's benefit concerts in LA in 2020, though that was just a one-off performance, not a full-blown reunion. It was also the last Lovin' Spoonful performance to date, as that was in February 2020, but Steve Boone has performed with John Sebastian's most recent project, John Sebastian's Jug Band Village, a tribute to the Greenwich Village folk scene the group originally formed in, and the two played together most recently in December 2021. The three surviving original members of the group all seem to be content with their legacy, doing work they enjoy, and basically friendly, which is more than can be said for most of their contemporaries, and which is perhaps appropriate for a band whose main songwriter had been inspired, more than anything else, to make music with a positive attitude.

Label: MGM 14799 djYear: 1975Condition: MPrice: $18.00This is a new, unplayed Stereo/Mono promo copy, in its original MGM Records factory sleeve. This rarely seen single has a dynamite Northern Soul-meets-Disco dancer. The group's name is an acronym for "The Ultimate Musical Experience." Note: Some of these copies may have a touch of storage wear on the labels, but they're otherwise pristine Mint.

Jay Mac and Sam discuss the classic rock record So Long Ago The Garden by controversial artist Larry Norman. Though not a widely known album today, it still has something great to offer nearly 50 years after its original release on MGM Records in 1973.

Label: MGM 13721Year: 1967Condition: M-Last Price: $24.00. Not currently available for sale.Credited to "Eric Burdon & The Animals," this is the group's finest foray into psychedelic rock. Every time I hear the opening guitar growl, it's obvious where Black Sabbath got the inspiration for the similar opening growl to "Iron Man." Now in the Classic 45's jukebox, cause it's one of those nuggets that just doesn't get played often enough. The big mystery to me is why Dave Marsh left it off his list of the 1,001 greatest 45s of Rock'n'Soul. It would definitely be on my list (if I ever make one!) For one thing, this is a single that was not included on any contemporary Animals album — this was a previously unreleased, non-LP single. The two sides eventually got added to an Animals compilation CD, but you won't find them anywhere on vinyl (to my knowledge) except on this little 45 record. Note: This Near Mint copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve.

CLICK TO SUBSCRIBE ON YOUR FAVORITE PODCATCHER CONTENT WARNING: Discussions of racism and sexism, and later, discussions of rape culture, sexual assault, loss of hearing, deafness. Hey, look! A fun movie for once! Seriously some of the films in this category were meant to be entertaining but instead wound up being incredible bores. Even our favorite movie thus far deals with the intensely difficult subject matter of mental illness and institutionalization. So a comedy about two old comedians who are rivals, even if they don’t remember why? Count us in! It doesn’t hurt that the prolific and fantastic Neil Simon is writing this script - at the very least, you know whatever you’re gonna watch will have laughs and a solid script. But is the majestic duo of an uncharacteristically wacky Walter Matthau and the genius dry wit of George Burns that make this film such a delight. Grab your make up, doctor’s coat and “ahh” sticks as we continue our Oscars ‘75 series with The Sunshine Boys. You can email us with feedback at macintoshandmaud@gmail.com, or you can connect with us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Also please subscribe, rate and review the show on your favorite podcatcher, and tell your friends. Intro and outro music taken from the Second Movement of Ludwig von Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Licensed under an Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Hong Kong (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0 HK) license. To hear the full performance or get more information, visit the song page at the Internet Archive. Excerpt taken from the song “Make ‘Em Laugh,” with lyrics by Arthur Freed and music by Nacio Herb Brown. Copyright 1952 MGM Records, Inc. & Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Inc. Excerpt taken from "Day of the Locust" from the film of the same name, written and composed by John Barry. Copyright 1974 Long Road Productions.

CLICK TO SUBSCRIBE ON YOUR FAVORITE PODCATCHER CONTENT WARNING: Gambling, theft, abuse, homelessness, economic issues. Notwithstanding her often tempestuous behavior, we here at Macintosh & Maud consider Barbra Streisand as one of the greats. She’s already made an appearance as Dolly Levi, shining through her co-star’s complete lack of interest or care. But it’s this role that started her stardom, before she’d ever been in a film. Barbra is Fanny, Fanny is Barbra, and none of what we see in these movies is the actual Fanny Brice. Which is fine for our first movie on the docket - sure it’s slow, and a little pointless, but those songs and that drama, wow! But when it comes to the film we’re more focused on for this series, we’re once again left asking “why bother and who cared?” It was the best of Barbra, it was the worst of Barbra, as we continue our Oscars ‘75 series with 1968’s Funny Girl and 1975’s Funny Lady You can email us with feedback at macintoshandmaud@gmail.com, or you can connect with us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Also please subscribe, rate and review the show on your favorite podcatcher, and tell your friends. Intro and outro music taken from the Second Movement of Ludwig von Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Licensed under an Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Hong Kong (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0 HK) license. To hear the full performance or get more information, visit the song page at the Internet Archive. Excerpt taken from the “Overture” to the film Funny Girl, written and composed by Jule Styne and Bob Merrill. Copyright 1968 Columbia Records / CBS, Inc. Clip taken from the film Funny Girl copyright © 1968, renewed 1996 Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Excerpt taken from the song “Don’t Rain on My Parade,” written and composed by Jule Styne and Bob Merrill. Copyright 1968 Columbia Records / CBS, Inc. Excerpt taken from the song “Make ‘Em Laugh,” with lyrics by Arthur Freed and music by Nacio Herb Brown. Copyright 1952 MGM Records, Inc. & Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Inc.

Label: MGM 13721Year: 1967Condition: M-Last Price: $25.00. Not currently available for sale.Credited to "Eric Burdon & The Animals," this is the group's finest foray into psychedelic rock. Every time I hear the opening guitar growl, it's obvious where Black Sabbath got the inspiration for the similar opening growl to "Iron Man." Now in the Classic 45's jukebox, cause it's one of those nuggets that just doesn't get played often enough. The big mystery to me is why Dave Marsh left it off his list of the 1,001 greatest 45s of Rock'n'Soul. It would definitely be on my list (if I ever make one!) For one thing, this is a single that was not included on any contemporary Animals album — this was a previously unreleased, non-LP single. The two sides eventually got added to an Animals compilation CD, but you won't find them anywhere on vinyl (to my knowledge) except on this little 45 record. (And may I say how incredible the audio is? Stunning doesn't come close!) Note: This beautiful copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It grades very close to Mint in appearance (Labels, Vinyl) and has pristine Mint sound. (This scan is a representative image from our archives.)

Label: MGM 13379Year: 1965Condition: MLast Price: $20.00. Not currently available for sale.A must-have dance number from 1965! Note: This beautiful copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It has no notable flaws, grading Mint across the board (Labels, Vinyl, Audio).

Label: MGM 13379Year: 1965Condition: M-Last Price: $18.00. Not currently available for sale.A must-have dance number from 1965! Note: This beautiful copy comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It almost Mint in appearance (Labels, Vinyl), and features pristine Mint sound on the A side... a real treat for the ears!

Label: MGM 13501Year: 1966Condition: M-Price: $16.00I just don't hear this great tune enough, so I've socked a clip into the "jukebox" ... I'll admit I didn't learn to love this one until after hearing Nick Lowe's version, circa 1979. But after that, I discovered the Sandy Posey original, which is a very special slice of southern girl-pop bliss. From the American Studios in Memphis, Chips Moman conjured more than a little bit of magic from Posey's vocals and a simple, but powerful arrangement... just as he had with James Carr and "Dark End of the Street," and many, many others. This isn't the only magic he conjured from Sandy Posey, either. If you like this one as much as I do, you'll find that most of her other MGM singles are well worth seeking out. Collector Nerd Alert: For those of you keeping track, here's another just-over-2-minute classic: It times at 2:06. Talk about brilliant! Note: This copy has a drillhole comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. The vinyl looks untouched, and the audio is very close to Mint. (This scan is a representative image from our archives... the drillhole on this copy is on the left above publisher credits.)

Label: MGM 13322Year: 1965Condition: M-Last Price: $30.00. Not currently available for sale.Here's a beautiful copy of the original MGM pressing of this swamp-rock classic. These tracks had earlier been released on the small Texas label XL, a 45 that could fetch $1,000 or more if you find a Near Mint copy! :-) Besides the well-known and -loved A side, which Dave Marsh pegs at #78 in his Top 1,001 singles list, be sure to check out the totally cool blues-rock performance on the flip. This is precisely the kind of sound that British groups like the Animals and Stones were striving for at the time and is one of the foundations of what became known as "Garage Rock." (Check out the mp3 snippet we've added to our "jukebox.") By the way, this very short (2:05!) B side wasn't included on any of Sam The Sham's albums... it was a non-album cut available only this 45. Note: This 45 record comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. It has Near Mint labels and Near Mint-looking vinyl. I'm delighted to report that both sides of this important single have Near Mint audio — and man, is it a big sound!

Label: MGM 13322Year: 1965Condition: M-Last Price: $24.00. Not currently available for sale.Here's a beautiful copy of the original MGM pressing of this swamp-rock classic. These tracks had earlier been released on the small Texas label XL, a 45 that could fetch $1,000 or more if you find a Near Mint copy! :-) Besides the well-known and -loved A side, which Dave Marsh pegs at #78 in his Top 1,001 singles list, be sure to check out the totally cool blues-rock performance on the flip. This is precisely the kind of sound that British groups like the Animals and Stones were striving for at the time and is one of the foundations of what became known as "Garage Rock." (Check out the mp3 snippet we've added to our "jukebox.") By the way, this very short (2:05!) B side wasn't included on any of Sam The Sham's albums... it was a non-album cut available only this 45. Note: This 45 record comes in a vintage MGM Records factory sleeve. The labels grade Near Mint with only very subtle flaws. The vinyl grades a strong EX, reflecting some scuffing. I'm delighted to report that both sides of this important single have Near Mint audio — and man, is it a big sound!

Episode eighty-three of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "Only the Lonely" by Roy Orbison, and how Orbison finally found success by ignoring conventional pop song structure. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have two bonus podcasts -- part one of a two-part Q&A and a ten-minute bonus on "Walk Don't Run" by the Ventures. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ ----more----  Resources Apologies for the delay this week -- I'm still trying to catch up after last week.    As usual, I have put together a Mixcloud mix with every song excerpted in this podcast. I have relied for biographical information mostly on two books -- The Authorised Roy Orbison written by Jeff Slate and three of Orbison's children, and Rhapsody in Black by John Kruth.  For the musicological analysis, I referred a lot to the essay “Only the Lonely: Roy Orbison’s Sweet West Texas Style,” by Albin Zak, in Sounding Out Pop: Analytical Essays in Popular Music.   There are many Orbison collections available, but many have rerecordings rather than the original versions of his hits. The Monument Singles Collection is the originals.  Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript It's been nearly a year since we last looked at Roy Orbison, so it's probably a good idea to quickly catch up with where we were up to. Roy Orbison had started out as a rockabilly singer, with a group called the Wink Westerners who changed their name to the Teen Kings and were signed to Sun Records. Orbison had thought that he would like to be a ballad singer, but everyone at Sun was convinced that he would never make it as anything other than a rocker. He had one minor hit on Sun, "Ooby Dooby", but eventually got dissatisfied with the label and asked to be allowed to go to another label -- Sam Phillips agreed to free him from his contract, in return for all the songwriting royalties and credits for everything he'd recorded for Sun. Newly free, Orbison signed to a major publisher and a major record label, recording for RCA with the same Nashville A-Team that were recording with Elvis and Brenda Lee. He had some success as a songwriter, writing "Claudette", which became a hit for the Everly Brothers, but he did no better recording for RCA than he had recording for Sun, and soon he was dropped by his new label, and the money from "Claudette" ran out. By the middle of 1959, Roy Orbison was an absolute failure. But this episode, we're going to talk about what happened next, and the startling way in which someone who had been a failure when produced by both Sam Phillips and Chet Atkins managed to become one of the most important artists in the world on a tiny label with no track record. Today, we're going to look at "Only the Lonely", and the records that turned Roy Orbison into a star: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely"] It seems odd that Roy Orbison could thank Wesley Rose for introducing him to Monument Records. Rose was the co-owner of Acuff-Rose publishing, the biggest country music publishing company in the world, and the company to which Orbison had signed as a songwriter. Fred Foster, the owner of Monument, describes being called to a meeting of various Nashville music industry professionals, at which Rose asked him in front of everyone "Why are you trying to destroy Nashville by making these..." and then used an expletive I can't use here and a racial slur I *won't* use here, to describe the slightly R&B-infused music Foster was making. Foster was part of the new wave of Nashville record makers that also included Owen Bradley and Chet Atkins, though at this time he was far less successful than either of them. Foster had started out as a songwriter, writing the words for the McGuire Sisters' hit "Picking Sweethearts": [Excerpt: The McGuire Sisters, "Picking Sweethearts"] He had moved from there into record production, despite having little musical or technical ability. He did, though, have a good ear for artists, and he made his career in the business by picking good people and letting them do the music they wanted. He started out at 4 Star Records, a small country label. From there he moved to Mercury Records, but he only spent a brief time there -- he was in favour of moving into the rockabilly market, while his superiors in the company weren't. He quickly found another role at ABC/Paramount, where he produced hits for a number of people, including one track we've already covered in this podcast, Lloyd Price's version of "Stagger Lee". He then put his entire life savings into starting up his own company, Monument, which he initially co-owned with a DJ named Buddy Deane. As Foster and Deane were based in Washington at this time, they used an image of the Washington Monument as the label's logo, and that also inspired the name. The first single they put out on the label caused them some problems. Billy Grammer, their first signing, recorded a song that they believed to be in the public domain, "Done Laid Around", which had recently been recorded by the Weavers under the name "Gotta Travel On": [Excerpt: The Weavers, "Gotta Travel On"] However, after putting out Grammer's version, Foster discovered that the song was actually in copyright, with a credit to the folk singer and folklorist Paul Clayton. I don't know if Clayton actually wrote the song or not -- it was common practice at that time for folk songs to be copyrighted in the name of an artist. But whether Clayton wrote the song or not, "Done Laid Around" had to be withdrawn from sale, and reissued under the name "Gotta Travel On", with Clayton credited as the composer -- something which cost the new label a substantial amount of money. But it worked out well for everyone, with Grammer's record eventually reaching number four on the pop charts: [Excerpt: Billy Grammer, "Gotta Travel On"] After that success, Foster bought out Buddy Deane and moved the label down to Nashville. They put out a few more singles over the next year, mostly by Grammer, but nothing recaptured that initial success. But it did mean that Foster started working with the Nashville A-Team of session musicians -- people like Bob Moore, the bass player who played on almost every important record to come out of Nashville at that time, including the Elvis records we looked at last week. Moore had also played on Roy Orbison's last sessions for RCA, where he'd seen how downcast Orbison was. Orbison had explained to Moore about how this was going to be his last session for RCA -- his contract was about to expire, and it was clear that Chet Atkins had no more idea than Sam Phillips how to make a successful Roy Orbison record. Moore told him not to worry -- he very obviously had talent, and Moore would speak to Wesley Rose about him. As well as being Orbison's music publisher, Rose was also Orbison's manager, something that would nowadays be considered a conflict of interest, but was par for the course at the time -- he was also the Everly Brothers' manager and publisher, which is how Orbison had managed to place "Claudette" with them. There were a lot of such backroom deals in the industry at the time, and few people knew about them -- for example, none of Bob Moore's fellow session players on the A-Team knew that he secretly owned thirty-seven percent of Monument Records. While Fred Foster is credited as the producer on most of Orbison's sessions from this point on, it's probably reasonable to think of Bob Moore as at the very least an uncredited co-producer -- he was the arranger on all of the records, and he was also the person who booked the other musicians on the sessions. Orbison was by this point so depressed about his own chances in the music industry that he couldn't believe that anyone wanted to sign him at all -- he was convinced even after signing that Fred Foster was confusing his own "Ooby Dooby" with another Sun single, Warren Smith's similar sounding "Rock and Roll Ruby": [Excerpt: Warren Smith, "Rock and Roll Ruby"] Wesley Rose had very clear ideas as to what Orbison's first single for Monument should be -- that last session at RCA had included two songs, "Paper Boy", and "With the Bug", that RCA had not bothered to release, and so Orbison went into the studio with much the same set of musicians he'd been working with at RCA, and cut the same songs he'd recorded there. The single was released, and made absolutely no impact -- unsurprising for a record that was really the end of Orbison's period as a failure, rather than the beginning of his golden period. That golden period came when he started collaborating with Joe Melson. The two men had known each other for a while, but the legend has it that they started writing songs together after Melson was walking along and saw Orbison sat in his car playing the guitar -- Orbison and his wife Claudette had recently had a son, Roy DeWayne Orbison (his middle name was after Orbison's friend Duane Eddy, though spelled differently), and the flat they were living in was so small that the only way Orbison could write any songs without disturbing the baby was to go and write them in the car. Melson apparently tapped on the car window, and asked what Roy was doing, and when Roy explained, he suggested that the two of them start working together. Both men were more than capable songwriters on their own, but they brought out the best in one another, and soon they were writing material that was unlike anything else in popular music at the time. Their first collaboration to be released was Orbison's second Monument single, "Uptown", a bluesy rock and roll track which saw the first big change in Orbison's style -- the introduction of a string section along with the Nashville A-Team. This was something that was only just starting to be done in Nashville, and it made little sense to most people involved that Orbison would want strings on what would otherwise be a rockabilly track, but they went ahead: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Uptown"] The string arrangement was written by Anita Kerr, of the Anita Kerr Singers, the female vocal group that would be called into any Nashville session that required women's voices (the male equivalent was the Jordanaires). Kerr would write a lot of the string arrangements for Orbison's records, and her vocal group -- with Joe Melson adding a single male voice -- would provide the backing vocals on them for the next few years. Wesley Rose was still unsure that Orbison could ever be a star, mostly because he thought he was so odd-looking, but "Uptown" started to prove him wrong. It made number seventy-two on the pop charts -- still not a massive hit, but the best he'd done since "Ooby Dooby" three years and two record labels earlier. But it was the next single, another Orbison/Melson collaboration, that would make him into one of the biggest stars in music. "Only the Lonely" had its roots in two other songs. Melson had written a song called "Cry" before ever meeting Orbison, and the two of them had reworked it into one called "Only the Lonely", but they were also working on another song at the same time. They had still not had a hit, and were trying to write something in the style of a current popular record. At the time, Mark Dinning was having huge success with a ballad called "Teen Angel", about a girl who gets run over by a train: [Excerpt: Mark Dinning, "Teen Angel"] Orbison and Melson were writing their own knock-off of that, called "Come Back to Me My Love". But when they played it for Fred Foster, he told them it was awful, and they should scrap the whole thing -- apart from the backing vocal hook Joe was singing. That was worth doing something with: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", vocal intro] They took that vocal part and put it together with "Only the Lonely" to make a finished song. According to most reports, rather than have Orbison record it, they initially tried to get Elvis to do it -- if they did, they must have known that they had no chance of it getting recorded, because Elvis was only recording songs published by Hill and Range, and Orbison and Melson were Acuff-Rose songwriters. They also, though, tried to get it recorded by the Everly Brothers, who were friends of Orbison, were also signed with Acuff-Rose, and were also managed by Wesley Rose, and even they turned it down. This is understandable, because the finished "Only the Lonely" is one of the most bizarrely structured songs ever to be a hit. Now, I've known this song for more than thirty years, I have a fair understanding of music, *and* I am explaining this with the help of a musicological essay on the song I've read, analysing it bar by bar. I am *still* not sure that my explanation of what's going on with this song is right. *That's* how oddly structured this song is. The intro is straightforward enough, the kind of thing that every song has. But then the lead vocal comes in, and rather than continue under the lead, like you would normally expect, the lead and backing vocals alternate, and push each other out of phase as a result. Where in the intro, the first "dum dum dum" starts on the first bar of the phrase, here it starts on the *second* bar of the phrase and extends past the end of Orbison's line, meaning the first line of the verse is actually five bars (from where the instruments come in after the a capella "Only the"), and not only that, the backing vocals are stressing different beats to the ones the lead vocal is stressing: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", first line of verse] This is quite astonishingly jarring. Pop songs, of whatever genre -- country, or blues, or rock and roll, or doo-wop, or whatever -- almost all work in fours. You have four-bar phrases that build up into eight- or twelve-bar verses, choruses, and bridges. Here, by overlaying two four-bar phrases out of synch with each other, Orbison and Melson have created a five-bar phrase -- although please note if you try to count bars along with these excerpts, you may come out with a different number, because phrases cross bar lines and I'm splitting these excerpts up by the vocal phrase rather than by the bar line. The lead vocal then comes back, on a different beat than expected -- the stresses in the melody have moved all over the place. Because the lead vocal starts on a different beat for the second phrase, even though it's the same length as the first phrase, it crosses more bar lines, meaning two five-bar phrases total eleven bars. Not only that, but the bass doesn't move to a new chord where you expect, but it stays on its original chord for an extra two beats, giving the impression of a six-beat bar, even though the drums are staying in four-four. So the first half of the verse is eleven bars long, if you don't get thrown by thinking one of the bars is six beats rather than four. Structurally, harmonically, and rhythmically, it feels like someone has tried to compromise between a twelve-bar blues and an eight-bar doo-wop song: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", second line] There's then another section, which in itself is perfectly straightforward -- an eight-bar stop-time section, whose lyric is possibly inspired by the Drifters song that had used strings and rhythmic disorientation in a similar way a few months earlier: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", "There goes my baby..."] The only incongruity there is a very minor one -- a brief move to the fifth-of-fifth chord, which is the kind of extremely minor deviation from the key that's par for the course in pop music. That section by itself is nothing unusual. But then after that straightforward eight-bar section, which seems like a return to normality, we then get a five-bar section which takes us to the end of the verse: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Only the Lonely", "But only the lonely know why..."] The song then basically repeats all its musical material from the start, with a few changes – the second time, the verse starts on the third of the scale rather than the first, and the melody goes up more, but it's structured similarly, and finishes in under two and a half minutes. So the musical material of the song covers twenty-four bars, not counting the intro. Twenty-four bars is actually a perfectly normal number of bars for a song to cover, but it would normally be broken down into three lots of eight or two lots of twelve -- instead it's a five, a six, an eight, and a five. I think. Honestly, I've gone back and forth several times about how best to break this up. The song is so familiar to most of us now that this doesn't sound strange any more, but I distinctly remember my own first time listening to it, when I was about eight, and wondering if the backing vocalists just hadn't known when to come in, if the people making the record just hadn't known how to make one properly, because this just sounded *wrong* to me. But it's that wrongness, that strangeness, of course -- along with Orbison's magnificent voice -- that made the record a hit, expressing perfectly the confusion and disorientation felt by the song's protagonist. It went to number two in the US, and number one in the UK, and instantly made Roy Orbison a star. A couple of slightly more conventional singles followed -- "Blue Angel" and "I'm Hurtin'" -- and they were both hits, but nowhere near as big as "Only the Lonely", and this seems to have convinced Orbison and Melson that they needed to follow their instincts and go for different structures than the norm. They started to make their songs, as far as possible, through-composed pieces. While most songs of the time break down into neat little sections -- verse, chorus, verse, chorus, middle eight, instrumental solo, chorus to fade, or a similar structure, Orbison and Melson's songs rarely have sections that repeat without any changes. Instead a single melody develops and takes twists and turns over the course of a couple of minutes, with Orbison usually singing throughout. This also had another advantage, as far as Orbison was concerned -- their songs hardly ever had space for an instrumental break, and so he never had to do the rock and roll star thing of moving around the stage and dancing while the instrumentalists soloed, which was something he felt uncomfortable doing. Instead he could just stand perfectly still at the microphone and sing. The first single they released that fit this new style was inspired by a piece of music Fred Foster introduced Orbison to -- Ravel's "Bolero": [Excerpt: Ravel, "Bolero" (West-Eastern Divan Orchestra)] Orbison and Melson took that basic feel and changed it into what would become Orbison's first number one in the US, "Running Scared": [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Running Scared"] That song was apparently one that met some resistance from the Nashville A-Team. A chunk of the song is in rubato, or "free time", where the musicians speed up or slow down slightly to make the music more expressive. This was not something that Bob Moore, in particular, was comfortable with -- they were making pop music, weren't they? Pop music was for kids to dance to, and if kids were going to dance to it, it had to have a steady beat. Orbison wasn't very good at all at dealing with conflict, and wherever possible he would try to take the most positive attitude possible, and in this case he just went into the control room and waited, while the musicians tried to figure out a way of playing the song in strict tempo, and found it just didn't work. After a while, Orbison walked back into the studio and said "I think we should play it the way it was written", and the musicians finally went along with him. It may also have been on "Running Scared" that they pioneered a new recording technique, or at least new for Nashville, which was surprisingly conservative about recording technology for a town so rooted in the music industry. I've seen this story written about three different early Orbison songs, and it could have been any of them, but the descriptions of the "Running Scared" session are the most detailed. While Orbison had a great voice, at this point it wasn't especially powerful, and with the addition of strings, the band were overpowering his voice. At this time, it was customary for singers to record with the band, all performing together in one room, but the sound of the instruments was getting into Orbison's mic louder than his voice, making it impossible to get a good mix. Eventually, they brought a coatrack covered with coats into the studio, and used it to partition the space -- Orbison would stand on one side of it with his mic, and the band and their mics would be on the other side. The coats would deaden the sound of the musicians enough that Orbison's voice would be the main sound on his vocal mic. In this case, the reason his voice was being overpowered was that right at the end of the song he had to hit a high A in full voice -- something that's very difficult for a baritone like Orbison to do without going into falsetto. It may also be that he was nervous about trying this when the musicians could see him, and the coats in the way helped him feel more secure. Either way, he does a magnificent job on that note: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Running Scared", tag] Apparently when Chet Atkins popped into the studio for a visit, he was utterly bemused by what he saw -- but then he was impressed enough by the idea that he got RCA to build a proper vocal isolation booth at their studios to get the same effect. "Running Scared" also came along just after Orbison made one big change to his image. He'd been on tour with Patsy Cline, promoting "Blue Angel", and had left his glasses on the plane. As he couldn't see well without them, he had to resort to using his prescription sunglasses on stage, and was astonished to find that instead of looking gawky and rather odd-looking, the audience now seemed to think he looked cool and brooding. From that point on, he wore them constantly. For the next three years, Orbison and Melson continued working together and producing hits -- although Orbison also wrote several hits solo during this time, including "In Dreams", which many consider his greatest record. But Melson was becoming increasingly convinced that he was the real talent in the partnership. Melson was also putting out singles on his own at this time, and you can judge for yourself whether his most successful solo track, "Hey Mr. Cupid" is better or worse than the tracks Orbison did without him. [Excerpt: Joe Melson, "Hey Mr. Cupid"] Eventually Melson stopped working with Orbison altogether, after their last major collaboration, "Blue Bayou". This turned out to be the beginning of the collapse of Orbison's entire life, though it didn't seem like it at the time. It was the first crack in the team that produced his biggest hits, but for now he was on a roll. He started collaborating with another writer, Bill Dees, and even though Beatlemania was raging in the UK, and later in the US, he was one of a tiny number of American artists who continued to have hits. Indeed, two of the early collaborations by Orbison and Dees were the *only* two records by an American artist to go to number one in the UK between August 1963 and February 1965. The second of those, "Oh, Pretty Woman", also went to number one in the US, and became one of his most well-known songs: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, "Oh, Pretty Woman"] That song again caused problems with his new collaborator, as Bill Dees sang the harmony vocals on it, and felt he wasn't getting enough credit for that. But that was the high point for Orbison. Wesley Rose and Fred Foster had never got on, and Rose decided that he was going to move Orbison over to MGM Records, who gave him an advance of a million dollars, but immediately the hits dried up. And the events of the next few years were the kind of thing that would would break almost anyone. He had divorced his wife Claudette, who had inspired "Oh, Pretty Woman", in November 1964, just before signing to MGM, because he'd discovered she was cheating on him. But the two of them had been so in love they'd ended up reconciling and remarrying in December 1965. But then six months later, they were out riding motorbikes together, Claudette crashed hers, and she died. And then a little over two years later, while he was on tour in the UK, his house burned down, killing two of his three children. Orbison continued to work, putting out records that no-one was buying, and playing the chicken-in-a-basket circuit in the UK. He even remarried in 1969, and found happiness and a new family with his second wife. But for about twenty years, from 1965 through to 1985, he was in a wilderness period. Between personal tragedy, changing fashions in music, and the heart condition he developed in the 70s, he was no longer capable of making records that resonated with the public, even though his voice was as strong as ever, and he could still get an audience when singing those old hits. And even the old hits were hard to get hold of -- Monument Records went bankrupt in the seventies, and reissues of his old songs were tied up in legal battles over their ownership. But then things started to change for him in the mid-eighties. A few modern artists had had hits with cover versions of his hits, but the big change came in 1985, when he collaborated with his fellow ex-Sun performers Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, and Jerry Lee Lewis, on an album called Class of 55: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and the Class of 55, "Coming Home"] That came out in 1986, and made the top twenty on the country charts -- the first time he'd had an album make any chart at all since 1966. Also in 1986, David Lynch used Orbison's "In Dreams" in his film Blue Velvet, which brought the record to a very different audience. He collaborated with k.d. lang, who was then one of the hottest new singers in country music, on a new version of his hit "Crying": [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and k.d. lang, "Crying"] That later won a Grammy. He recorded a new album of rerecordings of his greatest hits, which made the lower reaches of the charts. He got inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame, and recorded a live TV special, A Black and White Night, where he was joined by Elvis' seventies backing band, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, k.d. lang, Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne and Tom Waits, among others, all just acting as backing singers and musicians for a man they admired. He also joined with George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty and Bob Dylan in a supergroup called The Travelling Wilburys, whose first album made the top five: [Excerpt: The Travelling Wilburys, "Handle With Care"] And he recorded an album of new material, his best in decades, Mystery Girl, produced by Lynne and with songs written by Orbison, Lynne, and Petty -- along with a couple of songs contributed by famous admirers like Bono and the Edge of U2. But by the time that came out, Orbison was dead -- after a day flying model aeroplanes with his sons, he had a heart attack and died, aged only fifty-two. When Mystery Girl came out a couple of months later, it rose to the top five or better almost everywhere -- and in the UK and US, he had two albums in the top five at the same time, as in the UK a hits compilation was also up there, while in the US the Wilburys album was still near the top of the charts. Orbison's is one of the saddest stories in rock music, with one of the greatest talents in history getting derailed for decades by heartbreaking tragedies unimaginable to most of us, and then dying right at the point he was finally starting to get the recognition he deserved. But the work he did, both as a songwriter and as a singer, would inspire people long after his death.

Episode eighty-three of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Only the Lonely” by Roy Orbison, and how Orbison finally found success by ignoring conventional pop song structure. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have two bonus podcasts — part one of a two-part Q&A and a ten-minute bonus on “Walk Don’t Run” by the Ventures. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt’s irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ —-more—-  Resources Apologies for the delay this week — I’m still trying to catch up after last week.    As usual, I have put together a Mixcloud mix with every song excerpted in this podcast. I have relied for biographical information mostly on two books — The Authorised Roy Orbison written by Jeff Slate and three of Orbison’s children, and Rhapsody in Black by John Kruth.  For the musicological analysis, I referred a lot to the essay “Only the Lonely: Roy Orbison’s Sweet West Texas Style,” by Albin Zak, in Sounding Out Pop: Analytical Essays in Popular Music.   There are many Orbison collections available, but many have rerecordings rather than the original versions of his hits. The Monument Singles Collection is the originals.  Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript It’s been nearly a year since we last looked at Roy Orbison, so it’s probably a good idea to quickly catch up with where we were up to. Roy Orbison had started out as a rockabilly singer, with a group called the Wink Westerners who changed their name to the Teen Kings and were signed to Sun Records. Orbison had thought that he would like to be a ballad singer, but everyone at Sun was convinced that he would never make it as anything other than a rocker. He had one minor hit on Sun, “Ooby Dooby”, but eventually got dissatisfied with the label and asked to be allowed to go to another label — Sam Phillips agreed to free him from his contract, in return for all the songwriting royalties and credits for everything he’d recorded for Sun. Newly free, Orbison signed to a major publisher and a major record label, recording for RCA with the same Nashville A-Team that were recording with Elvis and Brenda Lee. He had some success as a songwriter, writing “Claudette”, which became a hit for the Everly Brothers, but he did no better recording for RCA than he had recording for Sun, and soon he was dropped by his new label, and the money from “Claudette” ran out. By the middle of 1959, Roy Orbison was an absolute failure. But this episode, we’re going to talk about what happened next, and the startling way in which someone who had been a failure when produced by both Sam Phillips and Chet Atkins managed to become one of the most important artists in the world on a tiny label with no track record. Today, we’re going to look at “Only the Lonely”, and the records that turned Roy Orbison into a star: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”] It seems odd that Roy Orbison could thank Wesley Rose for introducing him to Monument Records. Rose was the co-owner of Acuff-Rose publishing, the biggest country music publishing company in the world, and the company to which Orbison had signed as a songwriter. Fred Foster, the owner of Monument, describes being called to a meeting of various Nashville music industry professionals, at which Rose asked him in front of everyone “Why are you trying to destroy Nashville by making these…” and then used an expletive I can’t use here and a racial slur I *won’t* use here, to describe the slightly R&B-infused music Foster was making. Foster was part of the new wave of Nashville record makers that also included Owen Bradley and Chet Atkins, though at this time he was far less successful than either of them. Foster had started out as a songwriter, writing the words for the McGuire Sisters’ hit “Picking Sweethearts”: [Excerpt: The McGuire Sisters, “Picking Sweethearts”] He had moved from there into record production, despite having little musical or technical ability. He did, though, have a good ear for artists, and he made his career in the business by picking good people and letting them do the music they wanted. He started out at 4 Star Records, a small country label. From there he moved to Mercury Records, but he only spent a brief time there — he was in favour of moving into the rockabilly market, while his superiors in the company weren’t. He quickly found another role at ABC/Paramount, where he produced hits for a number of people, including one track we’ve already covered in this podcast, Lloyd Price’s version of “Stagger Lee”. He then put his entire life savings into starting up his own company, Monument, which he initially co-owned with a DJ named Buddy Deane. As Foster and Deane were based in Washington at this time, they used an image of the Washington Monument as the label’s logo, and that also inspired the name. The first single they put out on the label caused them some problems. Billy Grammer, their first signing, recorded a song that they believed to be in the public domain, “Done Laid Around”, which had recently been recorded by the Weavers under the name “Gotta Travel On”: [Excerpt: The Weavers, “Gotta Travel On”] However, after putting out Grammer’s version, Foster discovered that the song was actually in copyright, with a credit to the folk singer and folklorist Paul Clayton. I don’t know if Clayton actually wrote the song or not — it was common practice at that time for folk songs to be copyrighted in the name of an artist. But whether Clayton wrote the song or not, “Done Laid Around” had to be withdrawn from sale, and reissued under the name “Gotta Travel On”, with Clayton credited as the composer — something which cost the new label a substantial amount of money. But it worked out well for everyone, with Grammer’s record eventually reaching number four on the pop charts: [Excerpt: Billy Grammer, “Gotta Travel On”] After that success, Foster bought out Buddy Deane and moved the label down to Nashville. They put out a few more singles over the next year, mostly by Grammer, but nothing recaptured that initial success. But it did mean that Foster started working with the Nashville A-Team of session musicians — people like Bob Moore, the bass player who played on almost every important record to come out of Nashville at that time, including the Elvis records we looked at last week. Moore had also played on Roy Orbison’s last sessions for RCA, where he’d seen how downcast Orbison was. Orbison had explained to Moore about how this was going to be his last session for RCA — his contract was about to expire, and it was clear that Chet Atkins had no more idea than Sam Phillips how to make a successful Roy Orbison record. Moore told him not to worry — he very obviously had talent, and Moore would speak to Wesley Rose about him. As well as being Orbison’s music publisher, Rose was also Orbison’s manager, something that would nowadays be considered a conflict of interest, but was par for the course at the time — he was also the Everly Brothers’ manager and publisher, which is how Orbison had managed to place “Claudette” with them. There were a lot of such backroom deals in the industry at the time, and few people knew about them — for example, none of Bob Moore’s fellow session players on the A-Team knew that he secretly owned thirty-seven percent of Monument Records. While Fred Foster is credited as the producer on most of Orbison’s sessions from this point on, it’s probably reasonable to think of Bob Moore as at the very least an uncredited co-producer — he was the arranger on all of the records, and he was also the person who booked the other musicians on the sessions. Orbison was by this point so depressed about his own chances in the music industry that he couldn’t believe that anyone wanted to sign him at all — he was convinced even after signing that Fred Foster was confusing his own “Ooby Dooby” with another Sun single, Warren Smith’s similar sounding “Rock and Roll Ruby”: [Excerpt: Warren Smith, “Rock and Roll Ruby”] Wesley Rose had very clear ideas as to what Orbison’s first single for Monument should be — that last session at RCA had included two songs, “Paper Boy”, and “With the Bug”, that RCA had not bothered to release, and so Orbison went into the studio with much the same set of musicians he’d been working with at RCA, and cut the same songs he’d recorded there. The single was released, and made absolutely no impact — unsurprising for a record that was really the end of Orbison’s period as a failure, rather than the beginning of his golden period. That golden period came when he started collaborating with Joe Melson. The two men had known each other for a while, but the legend has it that they started writing songs together after Melson was walking along and saw Orbison sat in his car playing the guitar — Orbison and his wife Claudette had recently had a son, Roy DeWayne Orbison (his middle name was after Orbison’s friend Duane Eddy, though spelled differently), and the flat they were living in was so small that the only way Orbison could write any songs without disturbing the baby was to go and write them in the car. Melson apparently tapped on the car window, and asked what Roy was doing, and when Roy explained, he suggested that the two of them start working together. Both men were more than capable songwriters on their own, but they brought out the best in one another, and soon they were writing material that was unlike anything else in popular music at the time. Their first collaboration to be released was Orbison’s second Monument single, “Uptown”, a bluesy rock and roll track which saw the first big change in Orbison’s style — the introduction of a string section along with the Nashville A-Team. This was something that was only just starting to be done in Nashville, and it made little sense to most people involved that Orbison would want strings on what would otherwise be a rockabilly track, but they went ahead: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Uptown”] The string arrangement was written by Anita Kerr, of the Anita Kerr Singers, the female vocal group that would be called into any Nashville session that required women’s voices (the male equivalent was the Jordanaires). Kerr would write a lot of the string arrangements for Orbison’s records, and her vocal group — with Joe Melson adding a single male voice — would provide the backing vocals on them for the next few years. Wesley Rose was still unsure that Orbison could ever be a star, mostly because he thought he was so odd-looking, but “Uptown” started to prove him wrong. It made number seventy-two on the pop charts — still not a massive hit, but the best he’d done since “Ooby Dooby” three years and two record labels earlier. But it was the next single, another Orbison/Melson collaboration, that would make him into one of the biggest stars in music. “Only the Lonely” had its roots in two other songs. Melson had written a song called “Cry” before ever meeting Orbison, and the two of them had reworked it into one called “Only the Lonely”, but they were also working on another song at the same time. They had still not had a hit, and were trying to write something in the style of a current popular record. At the time, Mark Dinning was having huge success with a ballad called “Teen Angel”, about a girl who gets run over by a train: [Excerpt: Mark Dinning, “Teen Angel”] Orbison and Melson were writing their own knock-off of that, called “Come Back to Me My Love”. But when they played it for Fred Foster, he told them it was awful, and they should scrap the whole thing — apart from the backing vocal hook Joe was singing. That was worth doing something with: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, vocal intro] They took that vocal part and put it together with “Only the Lonely” to make a finished song. According to most reports, rather than have Orbison record it, they initially tried to get Elvis to do it — if they did, they must have known that they had no chance of it getting recorded, because Elvis was only recording songs published by Hill and Range, and Orbison and Melson were Acuff-Rose songwriters. They also, though, tried to get it recorded by the Everly Brothers, who were friends of Orbison, were also signed with Acuff-Rose, and were also managed by Wesley Rose, and even they turned it down. This is understandable, because the finished “Only the Lonely” is one of the most bizarrely structured songs ever to be a hit. Now, I’ve known this song for more than thirty years, I have a fair understanding of music, *and* I am explaining this with the help of a musicological essay on the song I’ve read, analysing it bar by bar. I am *still* not sure that my explanation of what’s going on with this song is right. *That’s* how oddly structured this song is. The intro is straightforward enough, the kind of thing that every song has. But then the lead vocal comes in, and rather than continue under the lead, like you would normally expect, the lead and backing vocals alternate, and push each other out of phase as a result. Where in the intro, the first “dum dum dum” starts on the first bar of the phrase, here it starts on the *second* bar of the phrase and extends past the end of Orbison’s line, meaning the first line of the verse is actually five bars (from where the instruments come in after the a capella “Only the”), and not only that, the backing vocals are stressing different beats to the ones the lead vocal is stressing: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, first line of verse] This is quite astonishingly jarring. Pop songs, of whatever genre — country, or blues, or rock and roll, or doo-wop, or whatever — almost all work in fours. You have four-bar phrases that build up into eight- or twelve-bar verses, choruses, and bridges. Here, by overlaying two four-bar phrases out of synch with each other, Orbison and Melson have created a five-bar phrase — although please note if you try to count bars along with these excerpts, you may come out with a different number, because phrases cross bar lines and I’m splitting these excerpts up by the vocal phrase rather than by the bar line. The lead vocal then comes back, on a different beat than expected — the stresses in the melody have moved all over the place. Because the lead vocal starts on a different beat for the second phrase, even though it’s the same length as the first phrase, it crosses more bar lines, meaning two five-bar phrases total eleven bars. Not only that, but the bass doesn’t move to a new chord where you expect, but it stays on its original chord for an extra two beats, giving the impression of a six-beat bar, even though the drums are staying in four-four. So the first half of the verse is eleven bars long, if you don’t get thrown by thinking one of the bars is six beats rather than four. Structurally, harmonically, and rhythmically, it feels like someone has tried to compromise between a twelve-bar blues and an eight-bar doo-wop song: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, second line] There’s then another section, which in itself is perfectly straightforward — an eight-bar stop-time section, whose lyric is possibly inspired by the Drifters song that had used strings and rhythmic disorientation in a similar way a few months earlier: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, “There goes my baby…”] The only incongruity there is a very minor one — a brief move to the fifth-of-fifth chord, which is the kind of extremely minor deviation from the key that’s par for the course in pop music. That section by itself is nothing unusual. But then after that straightforward eight-bar section, which seems like a return to normality, we then get a five-bar section which takes us to the end of the verse: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Only the Lonely”, “But only the lonely know why…”] The song then basically repeats all its musical material from the start, with a few changes – the second time, the verse starts on the third of the scale rather than the first, and the melody goes up more, but it’s structured similarly, and finishes in under two and a half minutes. So the musical material of the song covers twenty-four bars, not counting the intro. Twenty-four bars is actually a perfectly normal number of bars for a song to cover, but it would normally be broken down into three lots of eight or two lots of twelve — instead it’s a five, a six, an eight, and a five. I think. Honestly, I’ve gone back and forth several times about how best to break this up. The song is so familiar to most of us now that this doesn’t sound strange any more, but I distinctly remember my own first time listening to it, when I was about eight, and wondering if the backing vocalists just hadn’t known when to come in, if the people making the record just hadn’t known how to make one properly, because this just sounded *wrong* to me. But it’s that wrongness, that strangeness, of course — along with Orbison’s magnificent voice — that made the record a hit, expressing perfectly the confusion and disorientation felt by the song’s protagonist. It went to number two in the US, and number one in the UK, and instantly made Roy Orbison a star. A couple of slightly more conventional singles followed — “Blue Angel” and “I’m Hurtin'” — and they were both hits, but nowhere near as big as “Only the Lonely”, and this seems to have convinced Orbison and Melson that they needed to follow their instincts and go for different structures than the norm. They started to make their songs, as far as possible, through-composed pieces. While most songs of the time break down into neat little sections — verse, chorus, verse, chorus, middle eight, instrumental solo, chorus to fade, or a similar structure, Orbison and Melson’s songs rarely have sections that repeat without any changes. Instead a single melody develops and takes twists and turns over the course of a couple of minutes, with Orbison usually singing throughout. This also had another advantage, as far as Orbison was concerned — their songs hardly ever had space for an instrumental break, and so he never had to do the rock and roll star thing of moving around the stage and dancing while the instrumentalists soloed, which was something he felt uncomfortable doing. Instead he could just stand perfectly still at the microphone and sing. The first single they released that fit this new style was inspired by a piece of music Fred Foster introduced Orbison to — Ravel’s “Bolero”: [Excerpt: Ravel, “Bolero” (West-Eastern Divan Orchestra)] Orbison and Melson took that basic feel and changed it into what would become Orbison’s first number one in the US, “Running Scared”: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Running Scared”] That song was apparently one that met some resistance from the Nashville A-Team. A chunk of the song is in rubato, or “free time”, where the musicians speed up or slow down slightly to make the music more expressive. This was not something that Bob Moore, in particular, was comfortable with — they were making pop music, weren’t they? Pop music was for kids to dance to, and if kids were going to dance to it, it had to have a steady beat. Orbison wasn’t very good at all at dealing with conflict, and wherever possible he would try to take the most positive attitude possible, and in this case he just went into the control room and waited, while the musicians tried to figure out a way of playing the song in strict tempo, and found it just didn’t work. After a while, Orbison walked back into the studio and said “I think we should play it the way it was written”, and the musicians finally went along with him. It may also have been on “Running Scared” that they pioneered a new recording technique, or at least new for Nashville, which was surprisingly conservative about recording technology for a town so rooted in the music industry. I’ve seen this story written about three different early Orbison songs, and it could have been any of them, but the descriptions of the “Running Scared” session are the most detailed. While Orbison had a great voice, at this point it wasn’t especially powerful, and with the addition of strings, the band were overpowering his voice. At this time, it was customary for singers to record with the band, all performing together in one room, but the sound of the instruments was getting into Orbison’s mic louder than his voice, making it impossible to get a good mix. Eventually, they brought a coatrack covered with coats into the studio, and used it to partition the space — Orbison would stand on one side of it with his mic, and the band and their mics would be on the other side. The coats would deaden the sound of the musicians enough that Orbison’s voice would be the main sound on his vocal mic. In this case, the reason his voice was being overpowered was that right at the end of the song he had to hit a high A in full voice — something that’s very difficult for a baritone like Orbison to do without going into falsetto. It may also be that he was nervous about trying this when the musicians could see him, and the coats in the way helped him feel more secure. Either way, he does a magnificent job on that note: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Running Scared”, tag] Apparently when Chet Atkins popped into the studio for a visit, he was utterly bemused by what he saw — but then he was impressed enough by the idea that he got RCA to build a proper vocal isolation booth at their studios to get the same effect. “Running Scared” also came along just after Orbison made one big change to his image. He’d been on tour with Patsy Cline, promoting “Blue Angel”, and had left his glasses on the plane. As he couldn’t see well without them, he had to resort to using his prescription sunglasses on stage, and was astonished to find that instead of looking gawky and rather odd-looking, the audience now seemed to think he looked cool and brooding. From that point on, he wore them constantly. For the next three years, Orbison and Melson continued working together and producing hits — although Orbison also wrote several hits solo during this time, including “In Dreams”, which many consider his greatest record. But Melson was becoming increasingly convinced that he was the real talent in the partnership. Melson was also putting out singles on his own at this time, and you can judge for yourself whether his most successful solo track, “Hey Mr. Cupid” is better or worse than the tracks Orbison did without him. [Excerpt: Joe Melson, “Hey Mr. Cupid”] Eventually Melson stopped working with Orbison altogether, after their last major collaboration, “Blue Bayou”. This turned out to be the beginning of the collapse of Orbison’s entire life, though it didn’t seem like it at the time. It was the first crack in the team that produced his biggest hits, but for now he was on a roll. He started collaborating with another writer, Bill Dees, and even though Beatlemania was raging in the UK, and later in the US, he was one of a tiny number of American artists who continued to have hits. Indeed, two of the early collaborations by Orbison and Dees were the *only* two records by an American artist to go to number one in the UK between August 1963 and February 1965. The second of those, “Oh, Pretty Woman”, also went to number one in the US, and became one of his most well-known songs: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison, “Oh, Pretty Woman”] That song again caused problems with his new collaborator, as Bill Dees sang the harmony vocals on it, and felt he wasn’t getting enough credit for that. But that was the high point for Orbison. Wesley Rose and Fred Foster had never got on, and Rose decided that he was going to move Orbison over to MGM Records, who gave him an advance of a million dollars, but immediately the hits dried up. And the events of the next few years were the kind of thing that would would break almost anyone. He had divorced his wife Claudette, who had inspired “Oh, Pretty Woman”, in November 1964, just before signing to MGM, because he’d discovered she was cheating on him. But the two of them had been so in love they’d ended up reconciling and remarrying in December 1965. But then six months later, they were out riding motorbikes together, Claudette crashed hers, and she died. And then a little over two years later, while he was on tour in the UK, his house burned down, killing two of his three children. Orbison continued to work, putting out records that no-one was buying, and playing the chicken-in-a-basket circuit in the UK. He even remarried in 1969, and found happiness and a new family with his second wife. But for about twenty years, from 1965 through to 1985, he was in a wilderness period. Between personal tragedy, changing fashions in music, and the heart condition he developed in the 70s, he was no longer capable of making records that resonated with the public, even though his voice was as strong as ever, and he could still get an audience when singing those old hits. And even the old hits were hard to get hold of — Monument Records went bankrupt in the seventies, and reissues of his old songs were tied up in legal battles over their ownership. But then things started to change for him in the mid-eighties. A few modern artists had had hits with cover versions of his hits, but the big change came in 1985, when he collaborated with his fellow ex-Sun performers Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, and Jerry Lee Lewis, on an album called Class of 55: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and the Class of 55, “Coming Home”] That came out in 1986, and made the top twenty on the country charts — the first time he’d had an album make any chart at all since 1966. Also in 1986, David Lynch used Orbison’s “In Dreams” in his film Blue Velvet, which brought the record to a very different audience. He collaborated with k.d. lang, who was then one of the hottest new singers in country music, on a new version of his hit “Crying”: [Excerpt: Roy Orbison and k.d. lang, “Crying”] That later won a Grammy. He recorded a new album of rerecordings of his greatest hits, which made the lower reaches of the charts. He got inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame, and recorded a live TV special, A Black and White Night, where he was joined by Elvis’ seventies backing band, Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, k.d. lang, Bonnie Raitt, Jackson Browne and Tom Waits, among others, all just acting as backing singers and musicians for a man they admired. He also joined with George Harrison, Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty and Bob Dylan in a supergroup called The Travelling Wilburys, whose first album made the top five: [Excerpt: The Travelling Wilburys, “Handle With Care”] And he recorded an album of new material, his best in decades, Mystery Girl, produced by Lynne and with songs written by Orbison, Lynne, and Petty — along with a couple of songs contributed by famous admirers like Bono and the Edge of U2. But by the time that came out, Orbison was dead — after a day flying model aeroplanes with his sons, he had a heart attack and died, aged only fifty-two. When Mystery Girl came out a couple of months later, it rose to the top five or better almost everywhere — and in the UK and US, he had two albums in the top five at the same time, as in the UK a hits compilation was also up there, while in the US the Wilburys album was still near the top of the charts. Orbison’s is one of the saddest stories in rock music, with one of the greatest talents in history getting derailed for decades by heartbreaking tragedies unimaginable to most of us, and then dying right at the point he was finally starting to get the recognition he deserved. But the work he did, both as a songwriter and as a singer, would inspire people long after his death.

Find us at: iTunes Spotify Patreon CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of war crimes, rape, murder, misogyny, violence toward women, hanging, WWII executions, war, mentions of racism. We don’t watch a lot of war films here at Mac & Maud HQ, but as we worked through 1967, we couldn’t help but watch one of the most iconic action films of all time. It’s hard to enjoy this movie on its own merits, since so many other movies have used this premise since. At the time, though, this film was working on a much deeper and darker level, a re-examination of war and the men who fight it. By making the heroes of this film convicted war criminals, waiting for a hangman’s noose, the comedy and camaraderie of the men is meant to thrill and terrify us. At the time, this movie The Dirty Dozen (1967) this week on Macintosh & Maud Haven’t Seen What?! You can email us with feedback at macintoshandmaud@gmail.com, or you can connect with us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. If you like the podcast, make sure to subscribe and review on iTunes, Spotify, or your favorite podcatcher, and tell your friends. Intro music taken from the Second Movement of Ludwig von Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Licensed under an Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Hong Kong (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0 HK) license. To hear the full performance or get more information, visit the song page at the Internet Archive. Excerpt taken from "Main Title from 'The Dirty Dozen'," composed by Frank DeVol. Copyright 1967 MGM Records, a division of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Inc. Excerpts taken from the film The Dirty Dozen are 1967 Turner Entertainment, Co and Warner Bros. Entertainment. All Rights Reserved.. Excerpt taken from “In Cold Blood,” composed and conducted by Quincy Jones. Copyright 1967 Colgems Records, Inc..

Find us at: iTunes Spotify Patreon STRONG CONTENT WARNING: Racism as a plot point, and the use of two terms in the bio and description of two cast characters. Also, misogyny, discussion of anti-semitism, and abduction of women. We went into this one expecting a fun, whimsical romp of a musical to cleanse the palette after several serious films in a row. Instead, we got a fun, whimsical romp of a musical that just so happened to lean into racism in a truly awful way. About 75% of this movie is great and fun and different than just about any movie musical. But that other 25% - it creates a major plot point out of racial stereotypes that isn't just problematic, it's patently offensive. We love Julie Andrews and Mary Tyler Moore; we think Carol Channing is simply divine; and George Roy Hill's directing is entirely his own. But the story of this movie went so hard for such a terrible plot device, that as much as we enjoyed the main story, it's up in the air as to whether we can recommend this movie. This week, we’re watching Thoroughly Modern Millie on Macintosh & Maud Haven’t Seen What?! You can email us with feedback at macintoshandmaud@gmail.com, or you can connect with us on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. If you like the podcast, make sure to subscribe and review on iTunes, Spotify, or your favorite podcatcher, and tell your friends. Intro music taken from the Second Movement of Ludwig von Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Licensed under an Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Hong Kong (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0 HK) license. To hear the full performance or get more information, visit the song page at the Internet Archive. Excerpt taken from "Prelude: Thoroughly Modern Millie," arranged and conducted by Andre Previn and performed by Julie Andrews. Copyright 1967 MCA Records, Inc. Excerpt taken from the film Thoroughly Modern Millie is copyright 1967 Universal Studios and Ross Hunter Productions, Inc. Excerpt taken from "Main Title from 'The Dirty Dozen'," composed by Frank DeVol. Copyright 1967 MGM Records, a division of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Inc.

Watch This Episode on YouTube: Multi-platinum producers - Michael Lloyd and Rob Chiarelli have worked on so many hit records, it’s mind-boggling! On this episode of TAXI TV, they will be sharing their top tips for production, recording, and mixing so that you can make better records either in your home studio or at an outside professional one! For more info on Michael Lloyd and Rob Chiarelli, please read below: Rob Chiarelli is an American record producer, mix engineer, musician, published author and multiple Grammy Award winner. Widely recognized as a music producer for Will Smith and Men in Black II (2002), Chiarelli's work appears on numerous Gold and Platinum albums and motion picture soundtracks, including nine GRAMMY winners. ​ As a mix engineer and record producer, Chiarelli has worked with such well known artists as Will Smith, Christina Aguilera, LeAnn Rimes, Kirk Franklin, Mary Mary, Janet Jackson, Jermaine Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Keiko Matsui, Coolio, Ray Charles, American Idol, Pink, Johnny Mathis, Paula Abdul, Diana Ross, En Vogue, Ice Cube, The Four Tops, Yolanda Adams, The Temptations, 3LW, K-Ci & JoJo, Madonna, Aaliyah, Hilary Duff, Jesse McCartney, Ricky Martin, The Corrs, Luther Vandross, Erin Boheme, Demetrius Ross and Charlie Wilson. Michael Lloyd was Vice President of A&R for MGM Records by the age of 20, and for more than 45 years has been producing hit records and soundtracks, earning more than 105 gold and platinum awards, a Diamond Award and selling over 170 million records. Some of the artists he’s worked with include, Barry Manilow, Mike Love and the Beach Boys, Sugar Ray, Lou Rawls, Sylvie Vartan, Shaun Cassidy, Belinda Carlisle, The Monkees, The Bellamy Brothers, The Osmonds, Donnie and Marie, Stryper, Sammy Davis, Jr., Bill Medley, The Righteous Brothers, Debby Boone, Kimberley Locke, Air Supply, and Frank Sinatra, just to name a few. He was the Music Supervisor for the film Dirty Dancing, wrote the Latin dance music for Patrick and Jennifer to dance to - and produced the Dirty Dancing soundtrack album. He’s also done the scoring, music supervision, songwriting, song placement, and/or music producing for over 200 motion pictures, TV movies, TV specials and television series. His chart records span six decades, from the ’60s to the present. ----------------------------------------- Watch Last Week's Episode: https://youtu.be/EJk9dVK57cE Learn More About TAXI Independent A&R: http://bit.ly/2mPVGYh Rub Elbows with Music Industry Pros at Our FREE Yearly Convention: http://bit.ly/2a9mwlp View Our Current Music Industry Opportunities: http://bit.ly/28JPUyd Connect with Fellow Songwriters on the TAXI Forum: http://bit.ly/2DENChs Listen on the Go with the TAXI TV Podcast: Apple Podcasts: http://apple.co/2afebwW Google Play: http://bit.ly/2a7cCQX Stitcher: http://bit.ly/2FuSTJQ Soundcloud: http://bit.ly/2icUDe0 TuneIn: http://bit.ly/2DCzKrd Follow Us On Social Media... Facebook: http://bit.ly/2931C7x Twitter: http://bit.ly/2jJ0EnQ Instagram: http://bit.ly/2jcg7we SUBSCRIBE to our channel and comment below!

Episode 8: Williams and Williams. As a supplement to the first part of my interview last week with Janet Williams, I offer a cache of rare studio recordings by Camilla Williams, supplemented by live material sung by Janet Williams from the artist’s private archives. Among other material featured are excerpts from Camilla’s rarely-heard album of spirituals on the MGM Records label, and a concert given by Janet Williams in her home town of Detroit in 1989, capped by a stunning rendition of Undine Smith Moore’s arrangement of the spiritual “Watch and Pray,” dedicated to Camilla Williams. Countermelody is a new podcast devoted to the glories of the human voice raised in song. Singer and vocal aficionado Daniel Gundlach explores great classical and opera singers of the past and present with the help of guests from the classical music field: singers, conductors, composers, coaches, agents, and voice teachers. Daniel’s lifetime in music as a professional countertenor, pianist, vocal coach, voice teacher, and journalist yields an exciting array of anecdotes, impressions, and “inside stories.” At Countermelody’s core is the interaction between singers of all stripes, their instruments, and the connection they make to the words they sing. Please also visit the Countermelody website for updates, additional content, and to pledge your support. www.countermelodypodcast.com

Watch This Episode on YouTube: https://youtu.be/jPY8OXjxyRw Legendary record producer Michael Lloyd had such a great time on TAXI TV last April, that he’s coming back again this week! The cool part about this return visit is that Michael will be doing live Song critiques! He’s kind of famous for being super generous with his feedback at TAXI’s free convention (the Road Rally) every year, so we’d like our loyal viewers to experience the same thing on TAXI TV! Here’s Michael’s bio, and you’ll find submission instructions below that! Michael Lloyd was Vice President of A&R for MGM Records by the age of 20, and for more than 45 years has been producing hit records and soundtracks, earning more than 105 Gold and Platinum awards, and selling over 150 million records. Some of the artists he’s worked with include, Barry Manilow, Mike Love and the Beach Boys, Lou Rawls, Sylvie Vartan, Shaun Cassidy, Steve Holy, Belinda Carlisle, The Monkees, The Bellamy Brothers, The Osmonds, Stryper, Sammy Davis, Jr., Bill Medley, The Righteous Brothers, Debby Boone, Kimberley Locke, Leif Garrett, Air Supply, and Frank Sinatra, just to name a few. Michael was the Music Supervisor for the film Dirty Dancing, wrote the Latin dance music for Patrick and Jennifer to dance to - and produced the Dirty Dancing soundtrack album. Currently, there are several “Dirty Dancing - the Musical” companies that are touring all over the world. He’s done the scoring, music supervision, songwriting, song placement, and/or music producing for nearly 200 motion pictures, TV movies, TV specials and television series. His chart records span six decades, from the ’60s to the present. Michael is also a recipient of TAXI’s Lifetime Achievement Award! ------------------------------------ Learn More About TAXI: http://bit.ly/2mPVGYh Rub Elbows with Music Industry Pros at Our FREE Yearly Convention: http://bit.ly/2a9mwlp View Our Current Music Industry Opportunities: http://bit.ly/28JPUyd Connect with Fellow Songwriters on the TAXI Forum: http://bit.ly/2DENChs Listen on the Go with the TAXI TV Podcast: Apple Podcasts: http://apple.co/2afebwW Google Play: http://bit.ly/2a7cCQX Stitcher: http://bit.ly/2FuSTJQ Soundcloud: http://bit.ly/2icUDe0 TuneIn: http://bit.ly/2DCzKrd Connect With Us On... Facebook: http://bit.ly/2931C7x Twitter: http://bit.ly/2jJ0EnQ Instagram: http://bit.ly/2jcg7we

This week Craig stares down the barrel of “The Blue Scorpion” as he nears the end of the new Twilight Zone’s first season. Along the way he goes off half-cocked on a 20-gauge trip down memory lane, which may have been triggered (ha!) by second-hand TV smoke (hey, weirder things have happened up in here). He also tells the triumphant tale of one man’s endless quest for a Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Award… which, as fate would have it, isn’t so endless at all.  Listen first, ask questions later. Check out my appearance on Victor Gamboa’s OUTER LIMITS PODCAST here: http://thetwilightzonepodcast.com/craig-beam-interview/   “Neither Here Nor There (‘Really? Another Revision?’ Revision)” by Twin Loops “I Never Had No One” performed by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs (“Old MacDonald Had a Boogaloo Farm” B-side, copyright 1968 by MGM Records)   “It Ain’t No Easy Thing” performed by Carla Thomas (previously unissued track, recorded between 1960 and 1968, copyright Staxx Records) “Moon Love” performed by Electric Moon (from the album Lunatics & Lunatics Revenge, copyright 2015 by Sireena Records) “San and Ashitaka in the Forest of the Deer God” composed by Joe Hisaishi (from the Princess Mononoke soundtrack, copyright 1999 by Milan Records) Assorted cues from Taxi Driver composed and conducted by Bernard Herrmann (from the Taxi Driver soundtrack, copyright 1976 by Arista Records)   The Twilight Zone is a trademark of CBS, Inc. Between Light and Shadow: A Twilight Zone Podcast is a nonprofit podcast. Music clips and dialogue excerpts used herein are the property of their respective copyright owners; we claim no ownership of these materials. Their use is strictly for illustrative purposes and should be considered Fair Use as stated in the Copyright Act of 1976, 17 U.S.C. section 107.

Watch This Episode on YouTube: https://youtu.be/buggarSsnPI I’m thrilled that we’ll be joined by legendary record producer, Michael Lloyd, on this week’s episode! Here’s his bio… Michael Lloyd was Vice President of A&R for MGM Records by the age of 20, and for more than 45 years has been producing hit records and soundtracks, earning more than 105 Gold and Platinum awards, and selling over 150 million records. Some of the artists he’s worked with include, Barry Manilow, Mike Love and the Beach Boys, Lou Rawls, Sylvie Vartan, Shaun Cassidy, Steve Holy, Belinda Carlisle, The Monkees, The Bellamy Brothers, The Osmonds, Stryper, Sammy Davis, Jr., Bill Medley, The Righteous Brothers, Debby Boone, Kimberley Locke, Leif Garrett, Air Supply, and Frank Sinatra, just to name a few. Michael was the Music Supervisor for the film Dirty Dancing, wrote the Latin dance music for Patrick and Jennifer to dance to - and produced the Dirty Dancing soundtrack album. Currently, there are several “Dirty Dancing - the Musical” companies that are touring all over the world. He’s done the scoring, music supervision, songwriting, song placement, and/or music producing for nearly 200 motion pictures, TV movies, TV specials and television series. His chart records span six decades, from the ’60s to the present. Michael is also a recipient of TAXI’s Lifetime Achievement Award! Just a few of the things I’ll be asking Michael: If you had to pick one thing that makes a hit record, what would that be? What makes an artist desirable to labels and the public? What are some tips for artists who are producing themselves in home studios? What are some common misconceptions songwriters and artists have about making it in the music business? Any tricks that help you get killer vocal performances from artists in the studio? What Would You Ask Him? Michael revels in helping TAXI members! He loves answering their questions and inspiring them every year at the Road Rally. So bust out your very best questions for Michael’s first appearance on TAXI TV! The first questions we’ll answer from viewers will be those submitted before the broadcast. Post your questions on our Facebook page OR tweet us your questions on Twitter no later than TODAY, Monday, April 1st at 3pm, Pacific Time! If possible, we’ll take some questions from viewers during the live broadcast as well! ------------------------------------ Learn More About TAXI: http://bit.ly/2mPVGYh Rub Elbows with Music Industry Pros at Our FREE Yearly Convention: http://bit.ly/2a9mwlp View Our Current Music Industry Opportunities: http://bit.ly/28JPUyd Connect with Fellow Songwriters on the TAXI Forum: http://bit.ly/2DENChs Listen on the Go with the TAXI TV Podcast: Apple Podcasts: http://apple.co/2afebwW Google Play: http://bit.ly/2a7cCQX Stitcher: http://bit.ly/2FuSTJQ Soundcloud: http://bit.ly/2icUDe0 TuneIn: http://bit.ly/2DCzKrd Connect With Us On... Facebook: http://bit.ly/2931C7x Twitter: http://bit.ly/2jJ0EnQ Instagram: http://bit.ly/2jcg7we

作家黄昱宁出版了自己的第一部小说集《八部半》，这位曾经翻译过伊恩·麦克尤恩、被李敬泽誉为“年轻的阿特伍德”的著名译者，如何在自己的虚构作品中描摹这个时代的城市人群面临的种种问题？在她看来，从翻译走向创作又有哪些心得？ 【主持】 程衍樑（新浪微博：@GrenadierGuard2） 杨一（新浪微博：@杨一1） 【嘉宾】 黄昱宁，作家（新浪微博：@黄昱宁） [02:50]喜欢写作的人内心都有虚构情结 [04:45]写小说需要力气，不能太迟 [07:30]《八部半》里的第一个故事 [08:20]作家最重要的能力是他对虚构的欲望 [09:20]县城青年、电信诈骗与都市故事 [12:10]《登堂入室》里的偷窥欲 [13:45]中国本科以上学历的人口仅占4% [14:05]北上广普通白领的生活方式已属特例 [16:10]没有微信和朋友圈的时代，作家如何写作？ [17:10]黄昱宁经常和发廊小妹、社区门卫聊天 [20:40]《水》的主题就是城市中的孤独 [26:10]爱好音乐确实会对写作产生影响 [28:55]翻译的经验让黄昱宁乐于雕琢语句 [32:15]“我还是比较善良，不会冷酷到底” [36:30]大城市以外仍有许多的小众读者 [37:55]大家对于所谓几线城市有固定的偏见 [40:45]外省青年来大城市是文学世界古老的话题 [43:40]成熟的读者会分清作家与主角 【延伸阅读】 《八部半》，黄昱宁 著，浙江文艺出版社 【音乐】 "Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)"（The Delfonics·The Delfonics·1970·Philly Groove Records） "There Won't Be Many Coming Home"（Roy Orbison·The Fastest Guitar Alive·1967·MGM Records） 【logo设计】杨文骥 【收听方式】 推荐您使用「苹果播客」、Spotify或任意安卓播客客户端订阅收听《忽左忽右》，也可通过喜马拉雅FM、蜻蜓FM、 荔枝FM、网易云音乐收听。 【本节目由JustPod出品】 【互动方式】 微博：@忽左忽右leftright 微博：@播客一下 微信公众号：忽左忽右 微信公众号：播客一下

作家黄昱宁出版了自己的第一部小说集《八部半》，这位曾经翻译过伊恩·麦克尤恩、被李敬泽誉为“年轻的阿特伍德”的著名译者，如何在自己的虚构作品中描摹这个时代的城市人群面临的种种问题？在她看来，从翻译走向创作又有哪些心得？【主持】程衍樑、杨一【嘉宾】黄昱宁，作家●[02:50]喜欢写作的人内心都有虚构情结●[04:45]写小说需要力气，不能太迟●[07:30]《八部半》里的第一个故事●[08:20]作家最重要的能力是他对虚构的欲望●[09:20]县城青年、电信诈骗与都市故事●[12:10]《登堂入室》里的偷窥欲●[13:45]中国本科以上学历的人口仅占4%●[14:05]北上广普通白领的生活方式已属特例●[16:10]没有微信和朋友圈的时代，作家如何写作？●[17:10]黄昱宁经常和发廊小妹、社区门卫聊天●[20:40]《水》的主题就是城市中的孤独●[26:10]爱好音乐确实会对写作产生影响●[28:55]翻译的经验让黄昱宁乐于雕琢语句●[32:15]“我还是比较善良，不会冷酷到底”●[36:30]大城市以外仍有许多的小众读者●[37:55]大家对于所谓几线城市有固定的偏见●[40:45]外省青年来大城市是文学世界古老的话题●[43:40]成熟的读者会分清作家与主角【延伸阅读】《八部半》，黄昱宁 著，浙江文艺出版社【音乐】"Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)"（The Delfonics·The Delfonics·1970·Philly Groove Records）"There Won't Be Many Coming Home"（Roy Orbison·The Fastest Guitar Alive·1967·MGM Records）【logo设计】杨文骥【收听方式】本节目由喜马拉雅FM独家播出，也可通过泛用型播客客户端订阅收听《忽左忽右》。

作家黄昱宁出版了自己的第一部小说集《八部半》，这位曾经翻译过伊恩·麦克尤恩、被李敬泽誉为“年轻的阿特伍德”的著名译者，如何在自己的虚构作品中描摹这个时代的城市人群面临的种种问题？在她看来，从翻译走向创作又有哪些心得？【主持】程衍樑、杨一【嘉宾】黄昱宁，作家●[02:50]喜欢写作的人内心都有虚构情结●[04:45]写小说需要力气，不能太迟●[07:30]《八部半》里的第一个故事●[08:20]作家最重要的能力是他对虚构的欲望●[09:20]县城青年、电信诈骗与都市故事●[12:10]《登堂入室》里的偷窥欲●[13:45]中国本科以上学历的人口仅占4%●[14:05]北上广普通白领的生活方式已属特例●[16:10]没有微信和朋友圈的时代，作家如何写作？●[17:10]黄昱宁经常和发廊小妹、社区门卫聊天●[20:40]《水》的主题就是城市中的孤独●[26:10]爱好音乐确实会对写作产生影响●[28:55]翻译的经验让黄昱宁乐于雕琢语句●[32:15]“我还是比较善良，不会冷酷到底”●[36:30]大城市以外仍有许多的小众读者●[37:55]大家对于所谓几线城市有固定的偏见●[40:45]外省青年来大城市是文学世界古老的话题●[43:40]成熟的读者会分清作家与主角【延伸阅读】《八部半》，黄昱宁 著，浙江文艺出版社【音乐】"Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)"（The Delfonics·The Delfonics·1970·Philly Groove Records）"There Won't Be Many Coming Home"（Roy Orbison·The Fastest Guitar Alive·1967·MGM Records）【logo设计】杨文骥【收听方式】本节目由喜马拉雅FM独家播出，也可通过泛用型播客客户端订阅收听《忽左忽右》。

作家黄昱宁出版了自己的第一部小说集《八部半》，这位曾经翻译过伊恩·麦克尤恩、被李敬泽誉为“年轻的阿特伍德”的著名译者，如何在自己的虚构作品中描摹这个时代的城市人群面临的种种问题？在她看来，从翻译走向创作又有哪些心得？【主持】程衍樑、杨一【嘉宾】黄昱宁，作家●[02:50]喜欢写作的人内心都有虚构情结●[04:45]写小说需要力气，不能太迟●[07:30]《八部半》里的第一个故事●[08:20]作家最重要的能力是他对虚构的欲望●[09:20]县城青年、电信诈骗与都市故事●[12:10]《登堂入室》里的偷窥欲●[13:45]中国本科以上学历的人口仅占4%●[14:05]北上广普通白领的生活方式已属特例●[16:10]没有微信和朋友圈的时代，作家如何写作？●[17:10]黄昱宁经常和发廊小妹、社区门卫聊天●[20:40]《水》的主题就是城市中的孤独●[26:10]爱好音乐确实会对写作产生影响●[28:55]翻译的经验让黄昱宁乐于雕琢语句●[32:15]“我还是比较善良，不会冷酷到底”●[36:30]大城市以外仍有许多的小众读者●[37:55]大家对于所谓几线城市有固定的偏见●[40:45]外省青年来大城市是文学世界古老的话题●[43:40]成熟的读者会分清作家与主角【延伸阅读】《八部半》，黄昱宁 著，浙江文艺出版社【音乐】"Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)"（The Delfonics·The Delfonics·1970·Philly Groove Records）"There Won't Be Many Coming Home"（Roy Orbison·The Fastest Guitar Alive·1967·MGM Records）【logo设计】杨文骥【收听方式】本节目由喜马拉雅FM独家播出，也可通过泛用型播客客户端订阅收听《忽左忽右》。

作家黄昱宁出版了自己的第一部小说集《八部半》，这位曾经翻译过伊恩·麦克尤恩、被李敬泽誉为“年轻的阿特伍德”的著名译者，如何在自己的虚构作品中描摹这个时代的城市人群面临的种种问题？在她看来，从翻译走向创作又有哪些心得？【主持】程衍樑、杨一【嘉宾】黄昱宁，作家●[02:50]喜欢写作的人内心都有虚构情结●[04:45]写小说需要力气，不能太迟●[07:30]《八部半》里的第一个故事●[08:20]作家最重要的能力是他对虚构的欲望●[09:20]县城青年、电信诈骗与都市故事●[12:10]《登堂入室》里的偷窥欲●[13:45]中国本科以上学历的人口仅占4%●[14:05]北上广普通白领的生活方式已属特例●[16:10]没有微信和朋友圈的时代，作家如何写作？●[17:10]黄昱宁经常和发廊小妹、社区门卫聊天●[20:40]《水》的主题就是城市中的孤独●[26:10]爱好音乐确实会对写作产生影响●[28:55]翻译的经验让黄昱宁乐于雕琢语句●[32:15]“我还是比较善良，不会冷酷到底”●[36:30]大城市以外仍有许多的小众读者●[37:55]大家对于所谓几线城市有固定的偏见●[40:45]外省青年来大城市是文学世界古老的话题●[43:40]成熟的读者会分清作家与主角【延伸阅读】《八部半》，黄昱宁 著，浙江文艺出版社【音乐】"Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)"（The Delfonics·The Delfonics·1970·Philly Groove Records）"There Won't Be Many Coming Home"（Roy Orbison·The Fastest Guitar Alive·1967·MGM Records）【logo设计】杨文骥【收听方式】本节目由喜马拉雅FM独家播出，也可通过泛用型播客客户端订阅收听《忽左忽右》。

作家黄昱宁出版了自己的第一部小说集《八部半》，这位曾经翻译过伊恩·麦克尤恩、被李敬泽誉为“年轻的阿特伍德”的著名译者，如何在自己的虚构作品中描摹这个时代的城市人群面临的种种问题？在她看来，从翻译走向创作又有哪些心得？ 【主持】 程衍樑（新浪微博：@GrenadierGuard2） 杨一（新浪微博：@杨一1） 【嘉宾】 黄昱宁，作家（新浪微博：@黄昱宁） [02:50]喜欢写作的人内心都有虚构情结 [04:45]写小说需要力气，不能太迟 [07:30]《八部半》里的第一个故事 [08:20]作家最重要的能力是他对虚构的欲望 [09:20]县城青年、电信诈骗与都市故事 [12:10]《登堂入室》里的偷窥欲 [13:45]中国本科以上学历的人口仅占4% [14:05]北上广普通白领的生活方式已属特例 [16:10]没有微信和朋友圈的时代，作家如何写作？ [17:10]黄昱宁经常和发廊小妹、社区门卫聊天 [20:40]《水》的主题就是城市中的孤独 [26:10]爱好音乐确实会对写作产生影响 [28:55]翻译的经验让黄昱宁乐于雕琢语句 [32:15]“我还是比较善良，不会冷酷到底” [36:30]大城市以外仍有许多的小众读者 [37:55]大家对于所谓几线城市有固定的偏见 [40:45]外省青年来大城市是文学世界古老的话题 [43:40]成熟的读者会分清作家与主角 【延伸阅读】 《八部半》，黄昱宁 著，浙江文艺出版社 【音乐】 "Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)"（The Delfonics·The Delfonics·1970·Philly Groove Records） "There Won't Be Many Coming Home"（Roy Orbison·The Fastest Guitar Alive·1967·MGM Records） 【logo设计】杨文骥 【收听方式】 推荐您使用「苹果播客」、Spotify或任意安卓播客客户端订阅收听《忽左忽右》，也可通过喜马拉雅FM、蜻蜓FM、 荔枝FM、网易云音乐收听。 【本节目由JustPod出品】 【互动方式】 微博：@忽左忽右leftright 微博：@播客一下 微信公众号：忽左忽右 微信公众号：播客一下

Gary Walker is a Nashville music institution. As a songwriter (including hits for Jim Reeves, Carl Smith and Kitty Wells), recording artist (on MGM Records), recording studio owner (Fidelity Recordings), music publisher and pioneering song plugger (Lowery Music), artist manager (Sandy Posey), record producer (Sonny James, Lynn Anderson, and Arthur Alexander) and owner of The Great Escape record & comic book stores, Gary has been an integral part of the Nashville music community for the past 65 years. The Crazy Chester Radio Hour is created and hosted by record producer Andreas Werner. This episode was recorded at Gary Walker’s home in Nashville. The theme song is performed by Jimmy Hall & Funky Chester and written by Andreas Werner (Crazy Chester Music, BMI). Used with permission.

ALAIN BASHUNG. NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN – 3:00Dimanches à l'Elysée, Barclay, 2009 THE MOODY BLUES. NIGHTS IN WHITE SATIN – 4:25Days Of Future Passed, Deram, 1967 ERIC BURDON & THE ANIMALS. PAINT IT BLACK – 6:20Winds Of Change, MGM Records, 1967 THE ANIMALS. HEY GIP – 3:45Animalism, MGM Records, 1966 JIMI HENDRIX. ALL ALONG THE […] Cet article Errance #62 : De Alain Bashung à Neil Young & Crazy Horse est apparu en premier sur Eldorado.

Rock and a Heart Place traces the rise, fall, and redemption of famous entertainers who were brought to their knees a great place to meet God. Join award-winning producer and music executive Ken Mansfield and biographer Marshall Terrill on a spiritual journey down the secluded halls of the music industry. Rock and a Heart Place is your backstage pass to never before-heard secrets, stories, and testimonies from some of rock music's greatest legends including members of Buffalo Springfield, The Byrds, Collective Soul, England Dan & John Ford Coley, Grand Funk Railroad, Kansas, Korn, Ozzy Osbourne, Pointer Sisters, Prince, The Ronettes, and The Turtles. KEN MANSFIELD’s legendary career in the music industry began as a member of the Town Criers, a successful southern California folk group in the early 1960s. From there he moved to executive tenures as US manager of The Beatles’ Apple Records and, director at Capitol Records, vice president at MGM Records, and president at Barnaby/CBS Records MARSHALL TERRILL is a veteran film, sports, and music writer and the author of nearly twenty books, including best-selling biographies of Steve McQueen, Elvis Presley, and Pete Maravich. Three of his books are in development to be made into movies.Shane Evans, the former drummer of Collective Soul and a member of the Georgia Music Hall of Fame Shane's   New Project and Music, Beauty for Ashes is the husband and wife duo of Shane Evans and Kelsey Hamilton, who formed, fell in love, got married and started making beautiful music together. 

In the United States, Do You Want To Know a Secret was the first top ten song to feature Harrison as a lead singer, reaching number 2 on the Billboard chart in 1964 as a single released by Vee-Jay, VJ 587. The Beatles' version was never released as a single in the UK, where a cover version by Billy J. Kramer with the Dakotas hit number one in the NME chart. Lennon said he based the song on Wishing Well, from Walt Disney's 1937 animated feature film Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs. Indeed, the opening lines of the lyrics are taken from this film song. However, the melody of DYWTKAS appears to owe more to "I Really Love You", a song released by The Stereos in 1961. This record, issued on Cub Records, a subsidiary of MGM Records, reached number 29 on the Billboard Top 40 chart. The lead singer on I Really Love You was Ronnie Collins. This song was covered by the le George Harrison in his 1982 studio album Gone Troppo, so indeed it appears to have been well known to the Beatles. Lennon later said that he gave "Do You Want to Know a Secret" to Harrison to sing because "it only had three notes and he wasn't the best singer in the world". So George did pretty well with these 3 notes..... The song was recorded during a ten-hour session on 11 February 1963 along with nine other songs for Please Please Me. Take 8 was best — being a superimposition take of the harmony vocal and two drum sticks being tapped together (You can hear them from 1:09 to 1:20.), onto take six. Here, we used take 7 and Take 8 to create a stunning true stereo version.

GRAMMY® Award-winning former Beatles executive and music industry icon Ken Mansfield chronicles a deeply personal journey of faith and struggle in his highly-anticipated fourth title, Stumbling on Open Ground: Love, God, Cancer, and Rock ‘n' Roll. Revealing ongoing trials with two bouts of cancer, Mansfield's memoir thoughtfully frames his spiritual struggle and physical pain in the light of ultimate healing and triumph. Sharing personal prayers and honest insight alongside remarkable moments from his storied music career, he confronts his failing body, a faith that both falters and soars, and the questions that aren't supposed to be asked but need to be answered.Ken Mansfield's legendary career in the music industry includes tenures as the U.S. manager of the Beatles' Apple Records, an executive at Capitol Records, a vice president at MGM Records, and president of Andy Williams' Barnaby Records (CBS Records), among numerous influential roles. He has worked with such artists as the Beach Boys, James Taylor, Roy Orbison, Glen Campbell and Lou Rawls. Instrumental in launching country music's “Outlaw” movement in the 1970s, Mansfield was involved in the careers of Waylon Jennings and Jessi Colter, among others.  Since devoting his life to Christ more than two decades ago, Mansfield is now an ordained minister and sought-after speaker. He appears at churches, special events and colleges across the nation and has authored The Beatles, The Bible and Bodega Bay (B&H); The White Book: The Beatles, the Bands, the Biz: An Insiders Look at an Era  and Between Wyomings.Stumbling on Open Ground: Love, God, Cancer, and Rock ‘n' Roll a 256-page trade paper title, will be available January 15 from Thomas Nelson. Please Check out the YouTube Video YouTube video

Leon Sylvers first rose to prominence in the early 1960s as a member of The Little Angles harmony vocal group featuring his siblings (Olympia, Charmaine, and James). During this time they appeared on variety shows such as Make Room For Daddy and You Bet Your Life. Following their parents divorce, Leon and his older siblings went to live with various relatives before reuniting with their mother Shirley and their four younger siblings in Los Angeles, California. In 1970, Leon entered the family act into a local talent contest which now included younger brothers Edmund and Ricky. They won that talent contest hands down due to their versatility, choreographed and harmonies. The impresario Mike Curb signed them to MGM Records in 1971 and marketed them as The Sylvers. Leon wrote his first hit single ("Wish That I Could Talk to You") which was on their debut album called The Sylvers. He also penned his brother Foster Sylvers' Top 10 US R&B chart single "Misdemeanor" which was a hit during summer of 1973. For the next several albums, Leon would continue writing songs on his family's albums which included 1977's Top 10 US R&B chart single "High School Dance". In 1978 Leon would produced The Sylvers most critically acclaimed album, Forever Yours.