Merryweather and Carey, "Five Days on the Trail" (1971)

Neil Merryweather and Lynn Carey shall live long in my heart for releasing this album containing the absolutely incandescent slab of treacle-thick fugitive blues that is "Five Days on the Trail", a song that damn near breaks my neck any time I drop a needle on it:

Merryweather & Carey - Five Days On The Trail by doggziller

Merryweather and Carey have both had long and varied careers in music (mostly independent of one another, though they were apparently lovers when this album was released) - and with more than a few brushes against  giants of popular culture. For instance, one of Neil Merryweather's earlier bands, the Mynah Birds, was fronted by a young Rick James (not sounding much like his Cold-Blooded era self back in the mid-60s).

Lynn Carey belted out vocals for fictional group "The Carrie Nations" in the Russ Meyer/Roger Ebert collaboration Beyond the Valley of the Dolls - very loosely dubbed over actress Dolly Read's lip-syncing (Roger Ebert - these days notorious for his endorsement of 1997 Jamie Foxx vehicle "Booty Call" - would later claim this and all other flaws in the film were intended for comic effect).



Although Russ Meyer evidently considered her "too flat-chested" for the silver screen, Lynn Carey nevertheless appeared in Penthouse a couple of years later to promote her and Merryweather's new band Mama Lion (a band most famous for a minor scandal surrounding the cover of its first album - Lynn seemingly not especially shy at this point in her life)

A number of young men were to profess a keen interest in Isaac Asimov's article on immortality.

Penthouse December 1972 is also notable for containing "Xaviera Hollander's first advice column", which was to run for about 35 years. Xaviera will of course be familiar to you as the author of the best-selling saxophone sex mystery, Yours Fatally!

Oh Fausto! Your legacy lives on.

Jump, S/T (early '70s?)

This is one of those albums that winds up in the dollar bin because, in all honesty, ain't nobody want to buy an album with a big old shoe on the cover.

BUT WAIT A MOMENT MY CHILD, WHAT'S THIS???

Why, it's the four disembodied heads of  "Jump", flying out of the shoe on a rainbow!

This catastrophic design decision is probably the reason why an allmusic.com search for Jump contains no mention of this band whatsoever (and instead reads like a team of brain-stormers with lexical constipation were trying to come up with the name for a Christian music aerobics festival).

My initial guess was the the long-hair rockers from Jump never saw this cover until it was too late, and that shortly after they emerged stinking from the studio, someone in the Janus label art department was sent home bloody-faced and weeping to their family. But then I noticed a detail in this posse shot:

Jump: just a fun bunch of guys.

LOOK CLOSER AT THE FEETS

Digitally enhanced image.

Yep, I do believe that's lead guitarist Dennis Tracy sporting the ever-so-distinctive shoe from the cover, and its twin. I think "Jump" were doomed from the first - just imagine if the cover for "Appetite for Destruction" featured Axl Rose's head flying out of one of his nasty old Chuck Taylors and ask yourself whether you'd know the name "Guns'n'Roses" today.

(You would not).

As this is ostensibly a music blog and not a dang old design blog, I should point out that the quality of music on this LP is far better than that ghastly glam-rock-looking foot apparatus would suggest - my fave on here is "Bank of Love", which is about one time when a lowly teller from the Bank of  Love decided to rob the Bank of Love (OMG alert!)

Jump - Bank of Love by doggziller

Sarolta Zalatnay, "Zalatnay" (1971)

Eerily enough this is the exact look that most women will give any time I start to explain about records.

I'm back from my travels and, courtesy of a record store in Budapest that was savvy enough to install a diorama in one of the main subway stations, I was able to smuggle a few of Hungary's national treasures away with me.

This pile of trash is as the most beautiful ikebana to a dude like me. 

I ventured out to this place on my last day in town (getting drenched by the rain in the process), and quickly discovered something astonishing - Hungarian records are not rare in Hungary. Moreover, this place had a decent selection of records from the whole Eastern Bloc and, heaven of heavens, actually allowed the prospective buyer to listen to stuff (in my experience so far this is rare outside NZ - in London, that great Sodom of a town, stores don't even keep the records inside the sleeves, you just have to flip through all these flopsy old empty sleeves, the digging equivalent of having your palm tickled during a hand-shake). I could've easily used another day in Budapest just to go through this place properly - I still have this itchy feeling at the base of my skull like I ought to drop in there again later this week, (despite hundreds of dollars in air fares and hours of travel now being in the way).

I didn't actually expect to have access to a trove of carefully sorted and reasonably priced Hungarian heaters so I felt a bit short on homework - however I did recognize the name Sarolta Zalatnay from some recent exposure in compilations and re-issues.

Zalatnay Sarolta, "Zalatnay" (1971) by doggziller

"Késő Esti Órán" is probably the standout track on the album although it is marred by some shockingly ill-advised backing vocals (SERIOUSLY what is going on with the guy shrieking in at 2:24, was he a commissar's nephew and the engineer didn't feel safe muting him or what). "Hiszed-e Még?" is perhaps less catchy but on the other hand your ears don't have to dodge anything and you get not one but two fine Hammond solos for your trouble.

Listening in the shop, when the needle dropped on "Késő Esti Órán"and I first heard that riff kick in I had a sudden urge to try to ingratiate myself with the taciturn fellow in charge of the place. I took the headphones off and announced "ALL THIS MUSIC IS REALLY GOOD!" to which he flatly replied "yes" without glancing up from his game of Minesweeper (put a Hungarian behind a counter and they seem to don a nigh-impenetrable armour of scorn).

This wasn't all misplaced flattery on my part however as the hit rate seems to be very high among Hungarian 70s music, in the weeks ahead I will doubtless write up a couple more of my Budapest finds in between the backlog of other tracks I have earmarked for attention.

The English leg of my trip also resulted in a few finds, mainly fairly well known 80s dancefloor cuts that I was missing (since I couldn't discover anything by listening) - to which, I should acknowledge, I am indebted to the help of reader Dom of Team Yours! who was amazingly kind enough to write up a guide to London record stores for me, what a real dude.

Team Yours! receives the 2010 Cowabunga Award for Achievements in Realness

NEW ZEALAND MUSIC MONTH #3: The Chapta "One" (1971)

Today's selection "Journey to the Sun" is cherry-picked from The Chapta's first album - amid a set of otherwise fairly straightforward pop-rock, someone decided to cut a freaky psych tune (my money says it was the Two Ronnies looking dude on the lower left).

Having listened carefully to the lyrics of this song I can confirm that in true psychedelic fashion, they are a bunch of nonsense - my guess is that the boys were stoned one day and decided that it was "about time someone gave the Sun some props". The change in the chorus where "Apollo" is exhorted to "shine [his] light" is a bit over the top but otherwise there's little to fault with this tune, the rise and fall of the synth at the start has me foaming at the mouth in particular. I'm unreliably informed that in 1971 the only synthesizer in New Zealand was held in an acoustics research lab at Victoria University so I guess the lads must have signed it out for the afternoon.


"Journey to the Sun" was not released as an album or B-side and was perhaps considered filler at the time - in retrospect it is the stand-out tune of the album. It should be noted that this is available alongside a number of excellent cuts on the compilation "A Day in My Mind's Mind"  (the Salvation and 40 Watt Banana tracks on there are some SERIOUS HEAT).

The Chapta - Journey to the Sun

Sandie Shaw "Reviewing the Situation" (1969)

Sandie Shaw was pretty famous in the mid-60s for recording songs that your Auntie likes such as "Always Something There To Remind Me" - and in fact she even performed the barely excusable feat of winning Eurovision in 1967 with this oompah joint that presumably won over the German judges in the first four seconds.

(To clarify, I have a fairly watertight theory about Eurovision: EVERYTHING THAT HAS EVER WON IS SHIT)

Sandie first showed signs of a lurch towards grooviness in 1968 when she appeared on the cover "The Sandie Shaw Supplement" in what appears to be a crocheted bikini. Since, as we all know, the UK has no beaches, the photo was apparently taken at low-tide on a salt marsh in Dartmouth, probably at sub-zero temperatures. The album also included a pretty worthy stab at "Route 66", a whiff of the good things to follow.

She looks like she should be holding a barbarian's leg.

In 1969, at the age of only 22, she released the self-produced "Reviewing the Situation", an LP of superbly arranged covers of significant artists of the day, covering ground as diverse as The Beatles, Dr. John, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, and Rufus Thomas. Yet bizzarrely enough the storming title track is actually one of Fagin's songs from "Oliver!"

I include three selections here - unlike some of the stuff I've posted so far, this album is available commercially via iTunes and maybe elsewhere, so hit that mess up for more songs at better quality if you're feeling it.

Sandie Shaw - Reviewing the Situation
Sandie Shaw - Love Me Do
Sandie Shaw - Coconut Grove

(I'll be screaming "PROMO USE ONLY" even as they drag me off to jail, you'll see)

Smith "A Group Called Smith" (1969)

Okay so the simple reason why I'm posting this track today is because it is hot as shit - tough drums, heavy bass, burbling Hammond, wailing fuzz guitar, and a woman yelling that she wants to sex you, while four stern men emerge from shack and silently observe.

Basically everything I hope for in rock music from this era.

Smith - I Just Wanna Make Love To You

BONUS JOINT: Etta James' version set to a photo montage of the bloke from "Draculas" and "Draculas 2: Oh No, Werewolves" - strickly 4 the ladiez / homo draculas.

Hanson & Karlsson "Rex" (1968)

Prog keyboardist Bo Hansson is prolly best known for his "Lord of the Rings" and "Watership Down" concept albums, which are dollar bin staples. He also did an LP call "Magician's Hat", the cover has a painting of a wizard on it, and that pretty much tells you where the dude is coming from.

This LP is probably from before he read Tolkein, a time when he was more about manly pursuits such as snorkelling with his buddy Janne Karlsson (truly a superb drummer) and wailing hard on the Hammond organ.

This live album mostly consists of the two of them frantically playing their instruments as fast as they can, presumably while grinning and waggling their eyebrows at each other. I mean that pretty much sums up side 1. To be honest, it doesn't sound great to a modern perspective (which is to say, I don't like it much).

Hansson & Karlsson - BFF!

Side 2 is a 22 minute suite call "Chateau Plaisance" and I include the first 5 and a half minutes here. It sounds like it was recorded off of one mic in Bo's bedroom (there were probably Gandalf posters on the wall) and it is just grimy as hell. Bo just sets up a nasty drone throughout the whole thing and the two of them crank up the intensity until... well, until an awkward cross-fade signifies that the whole thing must've been about to go off the rails. Let this one build, you guys.

Hansson & Karlsson - Chateua Plaisance (part 1)