And speaking as we were last week of the incomparable Brit chanteuse Sandie Shaw, behold in breathless wonder this 1966 clip of Ms. Shaw, absolutely live, on some French TV show in 1966.
Now -- tell me she wasn't the greatest white girl pop singer of her generation.
Go ahead -- I dare you.
[h/t JZ]
So the other day, over at the forever estimable Burning Wood blog, the proprietor (our chum Sal Nunziato) posted an intriguing playlist of (mostly obscure) pop psychedelia from the late 60s, and with it the following intriguing paragraph as part of his liner notes:
I wish I could find the interview, but I am pretty sure when [XTC's] Andy Partridge was asked if there were any songs he wished he had written, he said, "Autumn Almanac" by Ray Davies and "I Can't Let Maggie Go" by The Honeybus. Trust me.
This took me aback, frankly. "Autumn Almanac" is one of my all-time favorite singles, and if pressed I might even call it Ray's masterpiece, but The Honeybus song? I'm sure I must have heard that one on some Nuggets collection at some point, but I have absolutely no memory of it. Or as they used to say at the NY Times TV listings page, "not reviewed by us."
Anyway, here it is for your listening pleasure.
A very nice song and a charming period production and performance, but "Autumn Almanac" class? I don't think so. And I'll say it to Partridge straight up if I ever encounter that whey-faced git in person.
Okay, kidding aside, I should add that another song in the playlist with which I was heretofore unfamiliar -- by the enigmatically monikered Caleb -- had one of the best song titles ever. "Baby, Your Phrasing is Bad." Enjoy.
Heh.
I should also add that -- as I should have guessed -- said Caleb turned out to be Caleb Quaye, a subsequently very successful and well known session guitarist who is perhaps most familiar from a long and profitable stint as a member of Elton John's touring and recording band in the 70s.
In the meantime to download Sal's complete playlist, click here and then scroll down to the word PSYCH.
Chrissie Hynde appropriated her breathy vocal style (if not her barefoot stage act), and she's still pretty much my favorite white girl singer of the 60s, with the possible exception of Evie Sands.
Sandie Shaw, ladies and germs. They don't make 'em like they used to.
"Toujours un coin qui me repelle"
"Mais tu l'aimes"
And she's even better in the original French. Heh.
You know the songs -- listen to these versions, however, and be changed.
[h/t Steve Schwartz]
From 1964, and recorded in a home studio in their garage (which is pretty damned amazing for 1964) please enjoy obscure West Coast surf gods P.J. & The Galaxies and the sublimely catchy "Tally Ho."
This first came out on a really great anthology of obscure surf stuff in 1995; I bring it up now because of that Ventures album I posted yesterday.
The point being that the guys making this music didn't particularly think of what they were doing as surf -- what they thought (with reason) they were doing was (for want of a better phrase) instro-rock.
And it's worth pondering how bands like this might have developed and how rock history might have been changed if the British Invasion hadn't come along and rendered them obsolete.
From 1965 -- before an audience of slack-jawed Japanese fans -- please enjoy The Ventures and their incomparably twangy assault on Richard Rodgers' "Slaughter on 10th Avenue."
Mick Ronson, eat your heart out.
Seriously, the Ventures live album from which "Slaughter" derives has just been remastered and reissued in all its glory by our good friends at Sundazed Records, still the coolest reissue label on the planet, and let's just say it's killer. At the time it came out, the Ventures brand of instro-rock couldn't have been more out of step with what was happening in the rest of pop, and in terms of public perception the band was decidedly uncool. Nevertheless, several generations of guitar players have stolen licks from it since the day it was released, and nearly half a century later it still sounds fresh as paint.
You can -- and very definitely should -- order it over at Amazon, or at The Sundazed Store where you can learn about more of their splendid audio products.
So if you were here yesterday, you may recall I found myself enamored of The Singing Strings of Ernie Freeman, as heard on the otherwise execrable Vikki Carr version of Gene Pitney's "He's a Rebel."
I mention this because while contemplating said Singing Strings (may they live in infamy) I was reminded of the immortal Singing Bush, as seen in a scene from the oddly underrated '80s comedy Three Amigos.
I dunno why that strikes me so funny, but it does.
In any event, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded to the first reader to identify the artist providing the voice for said Singing Bush. And no Googling, obviously.
From 1962, please enjoy -- if that is the precise word -- Miss Vicki Carr and the original non-hit version of Gene Pitney's classic ode to non-comformity "He's a Rebel."
Apparently, Phil Spector heard this in pre-release, decided (wisely) that a less whitebread version produced by himself had genuine commercial potential, and thus rushed his more famous Wall of Sound version of the tune by The Crystals out on his own Phillies label. And the rest, as they say, is history.
For what it's worth, however, I rather enjoy The Singing Strings of Ernie Freeman that underscore Miss Carr's plaid stylings here. Actually, I think I mostly enjoy the fact that they're actually billed as The Singing Strings of Ernie Freeman on the 45 label.
h/t Todd Everett
You know, I've said it on numerous occasions, but some days I really love my phony baloney job. And very often those days are when the Merry Mailman brings me something of a video nature from the movie mavens over at the Criterion Collection. Come to think of it, a bunch of Criterion vids have been accumulating around Casa Simels over the last month or two, so while I wait for their forthcoming version of Quadrophenia -- a film which is perhaps closer to the mission statement of the blog you're reading, and which which has been poorly served by all its previous video incarnations on other labels -- let's take a gander at some of Criterion's characteristically swell (and recent) DVD and Blu-ray releases.
Have I mentioned that some days I really love my phony baloney job?
1. The 39 Steps
2. David Lean Directs Noël Coward
Four films from the 40s -- two wartime sort of propaganda/morale boosters (In Which We Serve, This Happy Breed), the greatest tearjerker ever made about two people who don't really commit adultery (Brief Encounter), and a swank, sophisticated supernatural themed no-sex-we're-British-please comedy (Blithe Spirit) featuring the wowser Kay Hammond (that's her on the left below)...
...as the Ghostess with the Mostest (as used to be said about another sexy spectre, albeit on 50s TV). In any case, although you can probably guess my fave in the set, given that I've always liked Coward's famous self-assessment -- that he "had a talent to amuse" -- all four of these are more than worth your time, if only for Lean's often dazzling visuals, and all four have been gloriously transferred from the flawless 2008 BFI National Film Archive restorations (Blithe Spirit, as you can see from the pic, has Technicolor that you can eat with the proverbial spoon). Lots of interesting bonuses, as you might imagine, including a 1978 tv documentary on Lean and a 1969 audio-only interview with Coward and Dickie Attenborough. (I know he's Sir Richard Attenborough, but I just like calling him Dickie, for some reason).
3. Jean Grémillon During the Occupation
A three film box set -- from a director I'm embarrassed to say I was heretofore unaware of -- and all of the pictures (naturalist melodramas, with the exception of Lumière d'été, a tragicomic love story that's a little harder to characterize) were shot under the obviously difficult conditions involving those Nazi guys who were goosestepping around the vicinity of French film studios at the time. In any case, in his homeland Gremillion is considered a consummate humanist filmmaker from the Golden Age, and after seeing the three examples of his work here -- particularly Remorques, with the great Jean Gabin as a tugboat captain drawn to a mysterious sexpot played by (woo hoo) Michelle Morgan -- I'd have to say the reputation is deserved; comparisons to Renoir do not seem at all far-fetched. All three films look pristine in Criterion's transfers, and the set -- released under Criterion's budget Eclipse imprint -- is something of a bargain at a mere 36 bucks list.
4. The Gold Rush
Little needs to be said about Chaplin's masterpiece -- the dance of the forks! the meal of the shoe! -- at this point, but it's hard to imagine a better presentation of it then the one Criterion serves up here. Disc one has stunning restored high-def transfers of both the original 1925 silent version (with Chaplin's original score newly recorded in surround sound) and the 1942 reissue, for which Chaplin added music, narration and sound effects. Disc two, meanwhile, has about a gazillion documentaries on Chaplin and/or the making of the film, including one featuring (personal hero of mine) historian and filmmaker Kevin Browlow. Needless to say, this one is about as essential as it gets.
I should add that all of the above can -- and should -- be ordered over at Amazon, or -- and if you'd like to learn more about them -- over at the Criterion website. And tell 'em PowerPop sent you.
From 1960, pleathe please enjoy America's Poet Laureate, the immortal Percy Dovetonsils, and his "Ode to Stanley's Pussycat."
Percy, of course, was the creation of the late great Ernie Kovacs, one of my personal heroes since childhood, and the clip itself is a track from the just released Percy Dovetonsils....thpeaks, a comedy album that Ernie recorded in 1960, but that for some reason wasn't released at the time. It's out now thanks to the same vault researchers who have been unearthing Kovacs' TV work on DVD for Shout!Factory (along with some bonus tracks) and I can say without fear of contradiction that nothing released to the public this year will tickle the vicinity of your auditory canal any harder.
I should add that you can order it, in the format of your choice (CD, mp3 album or vinyl) over at Amazon here.
I should also add that "the vinyl release will be limited to 1000 copies pressed on limited edition lavender vinyl, with future pressings to be made available on black vinyl thereafter."
Words fail me.
Actual important stuff to do today.
Regular blogging -- including a review of the "new" album by America's Poet Laureate, and that video roundup I've been threatening -- resumes tomorrow.
