All Sports Band

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

:: Can't Give Up The Feeling ::

:: Can't Change Destiny ::

:: Hit-N-Run ::

:: I'm Hurt ::

I can put this one off no longer.

A dear friend gave me this album about 5 years ago and thank God they did, because although it is one of the worst records ever made, I happen to love it very much. Just one look is all it takes. Get it? If listening to the Village People makes you question your sexuality, you can always take comfort with the All Sports Band. Feel better now?

Story goes something like this: A guy named Tracy Coats, a live sound engineer from Cleveland famous for recordings like Frampton Comes Alive, Kiss Alive I & II and The Village People Live has a bright idea one day. He recruits the Village People's session bassist, Alfonso Carey and another local Cleveland guitarist named Cy Sulack, and eventually adds keyboardist Chuck Kentis who played on the VP's live album and went on to play with Rod Stewart, Joan Jett and John Waite. Drummer Jimmy "The Boxer" Clark and singer Michael John Toste filled out the lineup, and they were ready to start playing stadiums.

Coats sealed a record deal and found investors to back them, but when the record didn't sell, the team went bankrupt and had to sell off all their bats and helmets. It's one of those stories that reaffirms your faith in human nature. Just because the Village People found success wearing costumes, it didn't mean the public was willing to buy some guys wearing sports uniforms while singing songs about good lovin' gone bad. These songs are so wimpy, the macho costumes become super-ludicrous.

While most of the guys in the band went on to make decent livings playing music, singer Michael John Toste has claimed to have received financial advice from God, and is a self-proclaimed "prophet and business consultant" who allegedly tried to raise funds for his ministry via a Sept. 11 anniversary event in Washington DC in 2002. If you want to hear some more great music (although Mr. Toste ain't doin' no singin'), go here.

So while you're watching Prince during half time this Sunday, just imagine if the All Sports Band had been successful, maybe they'd be playing instead of Prince. Oh well, our loss.

Hut Hut Mike

Kiwi Platter

Monday, January 29, 2007

:: Brother Love - King Acid ::

:: Cyclops - Light ::

If you’re hard pressed to come up with some New Zealand bands that weren’t off of the Flying Nun label, here are two. Both of these 7-inch releases were put out by a short-lived, Highland Park, NJ label, New World of Sound, back in 1993. First up is some fuzzed-out stoner rock, courtesy of Brother Love, of Christchurch, NZ. Members of this band were also in bands called Spacedust and Ape Management. The next song, "Light," is from a band called Cyclops, out of Dunedin, which featured members of Trash. I’d expound and pontificate on the virtues of each were I not in the midst of a fever and coughing fits, so this will have to do. I’m going back to hiding under my blanky.


Actually, Moog Rhymes With Vogue

:: The Plastic Cow ::

Keyboardist Mike Melvoin's handiwork is all over the musical landscape of the past 40 or so years. He's played on countless thangs, from sessions with jazz heavies to Pet Sounds, composed film and TV music, supplied the world with Wendy of Wendy and Lisa, and even played the Moog on what is supposed to be its first appearance on wax, Zodiac: Cosmic Sounds

So that he did a Moog album isn't surprising, especially since he was in such high demand at the time the Moog was a crazy new thing. Enter the Plastic Cow. Rather than regurgitating the liner notes myself, I'll just direct you here, to the always fine, for a transcript.

You know what to expect here - thick, peanut-buttery blurps, interesting arrangements, and sometimes whimsical sounds, often over funky drumming, covering a grab bag of pop hits. There are two originals -- The Plastic Cow and One Man, One Volt (ha). This one isn't as much fun for me as some of the other Moog things I've been picking up, but it certainly has its moments. Sunshine Of My Love is as inappropriate as you'd expect, as is Born To Be Wild. Here's all of it.


The Real Who?

Friday, January 26, 2007

:: Sausalito Bay ::

:: Welcome To The Mighty East ::

:: Dancing Lights ::

Many a hopeful musical artist has nabbed a deal with a major label, only to find themselves very quickly back at square one, and probably at a factory job back in Cincinnati. In the case of Smokey and his Sister, who knows what became of them? No, I'd really like to know. If anyone out there does know, including Smokey and/or his Sister, please speak up.

Sometimes it's difficult to find any info about obscure artists via the world wide web, but if you don't know their surname, it can be really, really difficult. It struck me as kind of absurd to name your act "Smokey And His Sister", first off. What, his sister doesn't deserve to be called by name? At least the liner notes reveal her name is Viki, and she's 2 years Smokey's elder, but no where does it reveal their last name. Even the songwriting credits are simply "Smokey". If they wanted anonymity, they got it.

Actually Smoke & Sis had two major record deals. First with Columbia, where they released one single in 1967, Creators of Rain, which at least got them some notice because Claudine Longet covered it. I guess it didn't do as well as Columbia had hoped though, so they made the jump to Warner Bros, and cut an album's worth of material. My copy is a promo, and I have to wonder if it even made it to stores. Some of the songs are pretty good, and their whispery harmonies are charming, so what the heck. I just can't help but wonder what happened next?



Thursday, January 25, 2007

:: Hot Lips ::

:: On a Clear Day ::

:: Night Train ::

:: Running Wild ::

Should you have been traveling on Route 66 through Claremont, CA in the late ‘60s, and the smell of manure hadn’t affected your hunger pangs, you’d have maybe stopped in at the Sage Hen Restaurant to dine sumptuously on glazed ham and a delicious fruit ring mold. If you were really lucky, Larry Seibert would be jazzing up the place on his Gulbransen Rialto Organ (with Gulbransen Select-A-Rhythm attachment) while you ate. And if you were really, really lucky, perhaps he’d autograph a copy of his album, Larry Plays Again!, for you, as he did for the fortunate soul who owned this copy before it became mine.

Larry began playing the piano professionally in the 1930’s in various bands in both New York and California, until World War II beckoned and he went off to fight the good fight. After the war, Larry only tinkered with music casually, until discovering the unexplored potential of the Hammond Organ in 1949. He formed a group called the “Cinema Bums” and they toured the west, performing in hot spots at Lake Tahoe and Palm Springs. The mid-50’s found him writing advertising jingles for ad agencies and scoring episodes of radio serial broadcasts. Larry unplugged the organ for awhile to earn his degree in clinical psychology and become a marriage counselor, but those keys soon called again and he began playing nights at the aforementioned Sage Hen. That’s where this album was recorded “live,” to an incredibly silent audience of diners.


When Nashville Goes Bad

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

:: La Chicana ::

:: Four In The Morning ::

:: Kentucky ::

:: Wabash Cannonball ::

Chet Atkins is a music legend. Floyd Cramer is a very well known Country tinkler. Danny Davis...well, you know if you lead the Nashville Brass, you are going to be the third wheel in this crowd. His super power appears to be the ability to turn old American standards into 70's game show music. I'm not necessarily complaining; I totally see myself picking up something by him down the road, once I get my walls shag-carpeted in chocolate brown.

What I thought this record was, in my lunch hour haste, was an historic and hopefully quirky collaboration of these three country music figures. Turns out it's primarily a compilation of the works of the three artists, with just two tunes featuring all three. Turns out that's plenty! You would think that the influence of Atkins and Cramer might steer things toward their style a bit, something at least remotely traditional, but on the opening track "La Chicana" the unholy result of these three getting together is perhaps a whole new genre - Disco Cruise Ship Game Show Music. I can see a Conga line with Charo in the front and Charles Nelson Reilly in the rear (naturally), decrepitly making its way down the deck of the Love Boat while Capt. Stubing and Bert Convy look on approvingly. It's perfect music to honk a titty to. The other compost-ition, "Four In The Morning," sounds like hangover music for the loneliest old fart in the world. What the hell was wrong in 1977?

I am tossing in the Atkins track "Kentucky," because it sounds like Brian May. I wish I was kidding. And the Danny Davis and the Nashville Brass version of "Wabash Cannonball," because I feel like you might not believe what I said about his super power.


Prepare To Be Dazzled

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

:: Spirits ::

:: Rock & Roll ::

:: City City ::

:: You Are My Love ::

So, it's gonna be kinda hard for me to write this, because I'm acquainted with one of the guys in this band. Really, he's a friend of a friend, but we email every now and then, and although I don't think he looks at this blog regularly, I just hope he's not offended by anything I write here.

Anyway, if you refer to the piece I wrote about a band called Chopper, you'll kind of get the connection. The guitar player in Bobbidazzler, George Marinelli, was and is a close friend of Pete and George (different George) from Chopper. As a matter of fact, Bobbidazzler George lived next door to Chopper Pete in Redondo Beach in those days. I used to hang out at Pete's place trying to get a little rock star rubbed off on me, and George used to pop in from time to time. All I knew about him then was that he was funny as a motherfucker and was one hell of a guitar player. Within the rather extensive circle of guitar players I hung out with at the time, George was generally excepted as the best of the bunch.

Some of you may have heard of the legendary Starwood club in L.A. in the late 70s. It was one of those punk clubs like the Whiskey and the Masque where a lot of great bands played and a lot of debaucherous shit happened. Well, I saw two shows there: Devo in '78, and Bobbidazzler in '77. Now, nothing against anyone involved, but at the time I was a smartass 20 yr old in a pseudo punk band, having already passed through my prog rock and Steely Dan phase, so these guys didn't seem terribly interesting to me. I heard the album once, and saw their show at the Starwood, but it just seemed slick and kind of cheesy and quirky and terribly 70s, at a time when I happened to be pretty sick of the 70s.

Within a couple of years, I was married and lost touch with many in that circle of friends. Sometime around the mid-80s, someone told me that George Marinelli was now the guitar player in Bruce Hornsby and The Range. Sure as hell, there he was with his big afro (well, not as big as in the 70s) right there on MTV. Damn. "One of those guys really did make it big", I thought. George has since gone on to make a nice living as a session man in Nashville, and for about the last 15 years, he's been Bonnie Raitt's right hand man.

But what of the rest of Bobbidazzler? Oh yeah, there is a bit of back story there. Before they were Bobbidazzler, they were called Ivory, and were a straight ahead prog rock band (with a bit of a jazzy bent). They made one album for Playboy Records in about 1974. This was before George joined. The main guys in both Ivory and Bobbidazzler were the Gullickson brothers, Lance and Grant, who were the vocalists and main songwriters. After both Ivory and Bobbidazzler ran their course, the Gullicksons had one of their songs recorded by Art Garfunkel before Grant went on to become an entertainment lawyer, and Lance married Jimmy Buffet's background singer.

So see? Everything turned out ok, even if rock & roll did take their soul, and a whole lot more.


The Pair Extraordinaire!

Monday, January 22, 2007

:: In the Beginning ::

:: A Hard Day's Night ::

:: A Hundred Pounds of Clay ::

This album calls them, The Pair, but Carl Craig and Marcus Hemphill actually went by the name, The Pair Extraordinaire. A lounge-style soul duo from Texas, Craig on vocals and Hemphill on upright bass, they made the rounds of the L.A. club circuit throughout the 1960’s. Liberty Records picked them up, and they recorded four albums, three of them live, between 1965 and 1967. This one is their first, recorded at the Ice House in Pasadena, CA, a home for folk music in the 60’s that exists now as a comedy club. There was, however, a little more than a pairing the night this was recorded, as there’s some un-credited drums and guitar accompaniment going on.

This album languished in my unlistened-to dollar-bin finds for quite a bit, I’m sorry to say. I thought it would be squaresville, but was pleasantly surprised to find laid back, smooth and jazzy soulfulness tucked inside. Carl sprinkles in jokes, both between songs and in lyric, giving a nice touch of humor to the show. Perhaps this sense of humor endeared them to Bill Cosby, with whom they toured for awhile as his opening act. Hemphill, who became a playwright during the 70’s, hooked up with Bill Cosby again in the ‘80’s as a writer for The Cosby Show before his death in 1986. That’s about all the internets will tell me about them. And, apologies in advance for the pops and surface noise, my copy is a bit thrashed.



Friday, January 19, 2007

:: Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye ::

:: Nights In White Satin ::

:: Sugar, Sugar ::

:: Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head ::

:: House Of The Rising Sun ::

:: Everybody's Talkin' ::

:: Venus ::

:: Come Together ::

:: Bridge Over Troubled Water ::

:: Lay Lady Lay ::

:: United We Stand ::

:: Proud Mary ::

They typically cost me more, but I am finding more and more that I am sort of addicted to wacky old Moog albums. This one I hadn't seen before, but one look at the track listing and I was on board. Plus, it's a London Phase 4, meaning that it's bound to be a little weird. This thing is all over the place, and it's certainly not Muzak as one might expect. Some rocking occurs. The version of "Lay Lady Lady" might be the template for a great deal of Boards of Canada's sound. When Mike looked at the track listing, he said, "The greatest hits of 1970," and that's pretty much what this is, but all Moogified n' stuff.

Claude Denjean was a Frenchman (duh) who ended up in Canada, as apparently many other Frenchpersons did. He may or not be dead. Yet again you are getting a whole damn album, because I know some of you will want that. Now get your Friday on, girlfriend.


Aw, Come On!

Thursday, January 18, 2007

:: Give It To Me ::

:: I'm Gay ::

:: Come In My Mouth ::

:: Choir Practice ::

:: The Cunnilingus Champion of Co C ::

This album has already been "exposed" via the internets, but it's worth repeating even if you read fine blogs like Plasticmusic. Let My People Come is an original cast album made during the heyday of the off-Broadway nude musical. Considered ground breaking in it's day for it's honesty and blatant disregard for all that is, well, modest, it enjoyed a successful run until moving to Broadway and subsequently getting sued over their parody of "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Co. B". As if stage musicals aren't basically cringe-worthy enough, here you have people emoting about their cocks and pussies with nothing to cover them but lots of hair.

While nude musicals have gone out of style, songs like these never will. Listen naked.


The Inevitable Murphy's Law Post

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

:: Quest for Herb ::

:: Bong ::

In a search for some happy fun party tunes to aid in my recovery from the Eagles loss to the Saints on Saturday night, I pulled out this Murphy’s Law record and immersed myself in lyrical masterpieces concerning beer, weed, and panty raids. Though I don’t think I’ve listened to this record in about 15 years, I surprised myself by being able to sing along perfectly to all the lyrics from “Quest for Herb.” It’s funny how a brain that can’t remember what it had for dinner last night can manage to scrounge up certain things.

1989’s Back with a Bong! is the NYC party punkers’ third album, their second on Profile Records, a rap label with Run DMC and DJ Quik on their roster. With this album, vocalist Jimmy Gestapo put together a different line-up and infused brass and ska into the fast-paced, hardcore thrash that was found on the previous, self-titled LP from 1986. The result is a fun bunch of tunes that can have you alternately moshing and skanking between bong hits.


Flintstones Do Germany

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

:: The Flintstones ::

:: Hansel & Gretel Pt 1 excerpt ::

:: Pebbles ::

:: Hansel & Gretel ::

I figured with so many of you likely to have hangovers from the raging MLK Day parties you probably attended, you might appreciate some lighter fare. This album says 1977, but it sounds pretty 60's to me. Even though the regular series ended in 1966, The Flintstones have been a part of many childhoods since because of their practically perpetual afterlife in syndication. There's been lots of not-really-Flintstones stuff too, and this falls under that category, although they do have the voices of Mel Blanc and Alan Reed here. Does anybody else find themselves typing Flinstones instead of Flintstones? I can't freaking STOP.

The different take on the Hansel & Gretel tale is kept fairly amusing, but I'm just putting up a little of it so you can get the feel of what they were doing, which is not unlike the actual show: entertainment mostly for kids, but with enough mature humor to keep the older folks chuckling as well. The three songs are pretty groovy; silly light rock n' roll fare not too different from the music you might hear on the shows. Nothing as awesome as The Wayouts, but then again what is?



Monday, January 15, 2007

:: United We Stand ::

Some time ago, I did a post about The Pipkins, "Gimme Dat Ding" album. Basically, some of the people involved with that record were also involved with the making of this one. There could not be two more different records though. The Pipkins were strictly from noveltyville, and The Brotherhood of Man couldn't have been more earnest. The song, "United We Stand" was a huge hit in it's native Great Britain, and a fairly big hit in the States, but whereas here The Brotherhood of Man were considered a one hit wonder, in Europe they are considered second only to Abba in the boy/girl band world domination sweepstakes.

Music publisher and song writer Tony Hiller was the brains of the operation. Seeing an unfilled niche for anthemic choral pop, Hiller and his partner Johnny Goodison started in to writing, while Hiller used his music biz connections to secure a recording contract. Various singers were enlisted including frequent Hiller collaborators Roger Greenaway and Tony Burrows, and they were on their way. After a couple of false starts, they came up with "United We Stand", and a formula was born.

The Brotherhood went on to score another hit with "Where Are you Going To My Love", then faded away. Tony Hiller never gave up though, and eventually brought the band back to the top, winning the Song for Europe songwriting competition in 1976 with "Save Your Kisses For Me", giving the BHM their biggest worldwide hit ever, and extending their hitmaking career well into the 80s. The band is still going strong to this day.

As the liner notes on the United We Stand album state: "At a time when the world is torn between polarized feelings of love, hate, peace and war, The Brotherhood of Man emerges with an eloquent and convincing plea to unite." Sure, this kind of stuff is too corny to fly these days, but if we ever needed an eloquent and convincing plea to unite, it's now. And although the song was bastardized in airline commercials, and copycat jingles like "I'd Like To Buy The World A Coke" ultimately killed off the genre, today the song sounds earnest and fresh again, at least to these world weary ears.


Stare With Your Ears

Friday, January 12, 2007

:: Angel's Lament ::

:: Cracks in the Ceiling ::

:: Ballad of the Final Page ::

If you’re not familiar with who Ken Nordine is, chances are you’ll recognize that deep, deep, expressive voice of his from one of the, literally, thousands of commercial voice-overs he’s done over the last 60 years. But I’m sure you hipsters know who he is, and are familiar with the “Word Jazz” genre he created with the handful of Dot Records he released between 1957 and 1960. Those records are pretty hard to come by, but I’ll bet Mike has them all tucked away somewhere on his shelves. I’ll eat my own ass if he doesn’t.

I do, happily, have Stare with Your Ears, released on Nordine’s own Snail Records in 1979. The hipster howlings of yore are traded in for more fleshed out storytelling, and there’s an overall dark tone, both in subject matter and backing music. Some of the songs are drenched in keyboard, giving them that 70’s movie soundtrack type of feel. Combined with Nordine’s resonant voice, its great stuff for headphone listening.

I found my pristine copy for five bucks a few years ago, but there’s one record dealer on the internets selling a copy for $455. If any of you crazy fuckers out there are willing to shell out that much for it, I’ll sell you mine.


Boone Twang

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

:: What's Gnawing At Me ::

:: July, You're A Woman ::

:: Within My Own Time ::

:: Song Of The Siren ::

:: Molly ::

:: Never Goin' Back ::

:: Long Distance ::

:: No Playing In The Snow Today ::

:: I've Got A Secret ::

:: Bad News ::

:: Break My Mind ::

:: Friends ::

You thought the first time that the whitebread crooner tried something a little different was in the 90's with that wacky In A Metal Mood album? Nope. In 1969, Pat released this album, a "departure" from the safe and clean renditions he was famous for. As you might be able to guess from the cover, it's his sort of country-rock/road-folk album. And it's only made slightly stranger by the fact that it was released on Bill Cosby's short-lived Tetragrammaton label.

I really wish there was more information, but the only liner notes are a hippyish message from Pat and some thanks that include a whole lot of people that probably would have rather been left off, thank you. Apparently, Ry Cooder is on this, as well as some of the Lovin' Spoonful, and the Turtles. No mention of the producer, but I somehow doubt that Tetragrammaton's staff producer (and longtime Neil Young co-conspirator) David Briggs was involved, although you just never know.

I had a really hard time picking songs, since they are all interesting in their own way, and because of the different songwriters (old timey goofer Biff Rose, "Indian Reservation" and "Tobacco Road" penner John D. Loudermilk, and latter day Kingston Trio member and "people out there turnin' music into gold" dude John C. Stewart are featured prominently) involved, so here's everything. I didn't zip it up because most people aren't going to want this much Boone. So play some Pat Boone roulette! If you want odd, definitely check out "Friends" and his cover of the Tim Buckley tune "Song of the Siren," if for no other reason than to hear Pat warble "yo ho ho and bottle of rum!" at the outset.


Not That Breakfast Club

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

:: Memory Time -The World Is Mine ::

Long before the Brat Pack gave the term "breakfast club" a distinctively '80s teen angst sort of identity, to generations of pre-TV Americans, it literally meant gathering 'round the breakfast table before work or school or another day of household drudgery, with the radio tuned to Don McNeill's Breakfast Club. The daily hour long live unscripted program contained just the kind of corny "old timey" dialogue, comedy skits, inspirational monologues (such as "The World Is Mine"), and musical interludes you'd expect, only even cornier. Considered downright corny in it's day, the show was never the less loved by millions, and ran a record 35 years, from 1933 'till 1968.

This album, commemorating 25 years on the air, probably sounded weird in all it's hi fi glory to folks used to the shrill static of AM radio broadcasts, but beyond that, the record serves up a good portion of what the show was all about. As the liner notes state, "The genuine friendliness and good spirit of the Breakfast Club is undoubtedly the key to its long success. Don McNeill's Breakfast Club is something very special and very ordinary, true Americana, as bright and reassuring as the sun that rises along with it."

Perhaps the world would be a better place if we hadn't outgrown this kind of entertainment. Instead of sitting around in the morning reading smartass blogs like this one, we'd be merrily frying bacon and eggs as Don McNeill's Silent Prayer plays softly in the background. God forgive me when I whine.


Heino Why The Caged Bird Sings

Monday, January 08, 2007

:: Schwer war der Abschied ::

:: Aloah Oe ::

:: Vaya Con Dios ::

:: Seemannsios ::

:: Ay, Ay, Ay, Paloma ::

Don your best pair of lederhosen, fill your favorite stein, and give a warm round of applause for Heino. An uberstar for the last 40 years in Germany, he’s outsold The Beatles, and like Elvis, has spawned an industry of impersonators. Outside of his homeland, he seems to garner more laughter than respect. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s his resemblance to a pasty white alien in Warhol disguise, with crazy eyes hidden beneath rectangular sunglasses and an albino-like wig perched atop his head. Or perhaps it’s because his name sounds somewhat like an informal term for a person’s buttocks. Either way, I’ve been playing the hell out of all four sides of this sailor song LP all week. And, more strangely, I can’t stop looking at him on the album cover while listening.


You Know, For Kids

Friday, January 05, 2007

:: Watermelon Man ::

:: Surfin' USA ::

:: Pipeline ::

:: Alley Cat ::

:: South Street ::

Al Caiola has played a lot of guitar over the years. This time out, he takes on the top pop hits of 1963 with his swank, rich-as-mama's-Besciamella guitar stylings, backed by one of the the breeziest orchestras I've ever heard. I was particularly interested in what he'd do with the surf numbers, and I wasn't disappointed. A lot of this stuff is sort of dinner music, but I really dig the organ playing -- it kind of reminds me of the playing on Sinatra's Strangers In The Night album. Every once in a while, there's some undeniably 60's vocal work that really makes me want to do a Laugh-In style dance around my living room. Did I just type that? Speaking of sights, when I hear "South Street," I can picture Phil dancing along in his kitchen in his boxers while he makes eggs for breakfast. For those of you who know Phil and can actually picture that, I am sorry.

Back to Al Caiola -- he's still around, and to show you we've come full circle, one of his grandsons messaged me on MySpace recently because we have his grandpa listed as one of our heroes. And he is.


She's Guilty

Thursday, January 04, 2007

:: Guilty Of Rock & Roll ::

Ok, this isn't exactly fair. Ms. Koloc had a decent career as a Chicago area folkie in the 70s, and this quadraphonic LP from '74 is a fine example of the kind of pop/folk stuff she prolifically released at that time. Except this song.

Written by Jeff Barry's Steed Records staff songwriter Neil Goldberg, Guilty of Rock And Roll is the kind of pap that somebody oughta do some time over. I'm not suggesting that Bonnie Koloc should be locked up though. The statute of limitations is long past, and really she shouldn't be faulted as she was probably forced to record the song by the mob anyway. Bonnie's a nice lady living in Iowa, teaching art to grade school kids and is still active musically, so I won't be too harsh on her. If anyone knows of another version of this song though, let me know. As hard as it is to believe, in someone else's hands, it could be worse. And I wanna hear it!


The Human Bleat Box?

Wednesday, January 03, 2007
We normally just stick to vinyl here, but when I saw this, I had to put it up. This is a soundie of Rufe Davis (Floyd Smoot from Green Acres) doing one hell of an act. Courtesy of, where they also have some pretty amazing tap dancing and frenzied Lindy Hopping videos.


Cup Of Rodd

:: Your Picture Doesn't Talk ::

:: The Harp Waltz Played On ::

Let’s kick off the new year with a couple of depressing tunes from the brilliant, fractured mind of everyone’s favorite song shark, Rodd Keith. First up is, “Your Picture Doesn’t Talk,” a hypnotic trip into the sad psyche of a pathetically obsessed loner. On the flipside, we get a spooky, harmonic ballad concerning a recently deceased Grandpa in, “The Harp Waltz Played On.” It’s been said that Keith used to enjoy brewing tea laced with PCP. This song manages to induce a sense of what a cup of Rodd’s tea might taste like. Sit back and enjoy a few sips.