DON BOWMAN DEAD: "CHIT" ATKINS & WILLIE NELSON FAVE

As usual with the blog, you're wondering WHO? Don Bowman?? Dead? Didn't know he was sick. Never heard of him.

Well…the guy ain't that obscure, at least not to C&W comedy fans who bought some of his vinyl in the 60's. Or those who attended Willie Nelson shows in the 80's. I can't say he was a favorite of mine, despite the great Homer & Jethro name-dropping him now and then. I've played some of those drunk-dopey Ben Colder novelty parodies a lot more, but the guy is being missed by some Red State folk around now. Why not pay respects? Whether you'll respect any of the "best of" in the download below, tain't my concern, at least it's yore education. If you do get a kick out of a certain type of rural character (a Festus, Floyd the Barber, or some other resident of Mayberry, Hooterville or Dodge City) you might be smiling at wiseguy Don's attitude-based humor.

A Southern-area disc jockey both before and after his singing and concert successes, Texas-born Don Bowman (August 26, 1937- June 5, 2013) never seemed to come close to getting mainstream fame. Jim Stafford, hardly a household name either, did push Bowman's song "Wildwood Weed" onto Top 40 radio but few could quote a line of it. Don's only Top 20 single was strictly in the C&W charts. This isn't a knock on Don, it's just reality. And certain types of country comedy, especially character driven (whether Sheb Wooley's "Ben Colder" 45's or Jerry Clower's huge number of stand-up albums) just turn off most everyone who doesn't chaw, watch the Indy 500 or know someone named Ferlin. (If you'd like to know what C&W comedy albums I find mainstream and very funny...try Pat Buttram, or George Lindsay's MCA disc. You can't deny Minnie Pearl had a lotta personality.)

Don definitely had his chances. First off, he was on RCA (along with Homer and Jethro) and was even Grammy-nominated in 1967. His resume did have "Top 20 single" on it via "Chit Atkins, Make Me A Star" (1964). He even starred in a pair of cheap movies that could've gotten him a sitcom or something ("The Las Vegas Hillbillys" and "Hillbillys in a Haunted House" 1966-67). "Haunted House" is a cult item on DVD thanks to hapless roles for fading horror stars John Carradine, Lon Chaney Jr. and Basil Rathbone. Remember, this was a time when "Green Acres" was a popular show for everyone, and even Homer & Jethro got TV commercials. But as the 60's ended, so did Don's RCA deal. He became more of a journeyman doing comedy and opening for singers on the country circuit. Which was good enough, really.

He just wasn't very funny by mainstream standards. Listen to "Hello D.J." and if you're not a C&W fan recognizing a particular type of local cuss, you'll have a hard time smiling. It's just aimless music with a nasty, almost bitchy-gay Southerner grumbling on the phone to a radio station because his single "ain't been played yet, now play the son of a bitch..." Maybe that same script drawled by Redd Foxx or Moms Mabley would also fail to get laughs if the listener didn't get the character and love the voice. Recognition humor can be right tricky. Don wasn't so familiar to Top 40 America that a rant like this would yield chuckles instead of "who's THAT guy and what's his problem?."

Unlike the Ben Colder singles, which threw in some corny jokes you might guffaw at in spite of yourself, there's not a single funny line in "Hello D.J." The formula was set with "Chit Atkins Make me a Star," which also has no jokes in it. It's Don as a dopey drawling hayseed screwing up on guitar in front of C&W's genius producer (at RCA) Chet Atkins. Most comedy fans will be scratching their heads now as they were then, wondering how Bowman even had a hit with this. Which may not be what an obit should be saying, but it's part of being honest. And Bowman fans shouldn't be offended because comedy is in the ear of the be-hearer anyways. Comedy often depends heavily on getting the references or loving the personality of the performer.

Frankly, non-comedy singers George Jones ("White Lightning") and Roger Miller ("Dang Me") demonstrated more natural comedy ability on their hits than Bowman. Given funny lyrics by Shel Silverstein, Johnny Cash showed great comic phrasing too ("Boy Named Sue"). Bowman's voice is, oddly enough, a bit creepy, like a Southern version of Kenneth Williams' Rambling Syd Rumpo. It's deep, nasal and if you're not on his wavelength, grating.

Slightly more accessible is "The Other Ringo," Don's kick in the shins to Ringo Starr by way of Lorne Greene's non-Beatles "Ringo" song. There's also "Tom Dooley," from his skewering "Folk Flops" concept album. At the time, good ol' boys shore hated urban folk singers for their uppity elevation of down-home music into coffee-house chic. "Tom Dooley" has no jokes. It's all attitude: "ya oughta hang down your hay-yed…if you did wutt I'm beginnin' to think ya did. Dooley Baby, mah boy, mah boy…." Not many comics made concept albums. After a whole album of "Folk Flops" Don made a disc poking fun at the fad for Herb Alpert via "From Mexico with Laughs." Gotta admit, Don's drawling about marijuana on the cut "Mexican Weed" was slightly ahead of its time, Did anyone think Herb Alpert was on pot? Anyone know what pot was when "Spanish Flea" was on the radio?? And lastly, there's "Coward at the Alamo," one of those non-PC novelties making fun of homos. But it's no "Mister Custer," because Don's coward doesn't have the cartoony voice of a Larry Verne (or a Ray Stevens) which could instantly put a smile on your face just on sound alone.

In the 70's, no longer on RCA (his record labels degenerated from Mega to Lone Star to Lard Bucket) Bowman had better luck as a radio host via the"American Country Countdown" show. He was Willie Nelson's opening act from 1981 through 1986 and after that turned up at various Southern radio stations amusing listeners with his ad-libs and personality. While he ended up in a nursing home, somebody from his family had a website up in his honor, listing his many C&W achievements, and he did have a career with a lot of credits, and he's made a lot of people smile, and he still will, even if his voice isn't Chill Wills'. YOUR DOWNLOAD is a half dozen Dons…

Chit Atkins Make me a Star (Our Man in Trouble)

Coward at the Alamo (Fresh From the Funny Farm)

Hello DJ (On the Road too Long)

The Other Ringo (Funny Way to Make an Album)

Tom Dooley Baby (Funny Folk Flops)

Mexican Weed (From Mexico with Laughs)

A Half Dozen Dons The Best of Bowman

BOBBY LEWIS - MUMBLES BLUES

Mistakes...can become intentional. Stuttering, stumbling all around, playing with spoonerisms or just plain mumbling…if a vocalist accidentally makes an audience laugh or applaud...it stays in the act! There probably are some long forgotten cylinders and 78's that sold because nobody bothered with a re-take and the result was a "novelty." No wonder the music world soon began to see deliberate screw-up songs like "K-K-K-Katy" and...many decades later, "Mumbles Blues," recorded in 1957 by Bobby Lewis. Yes, the Bobby Lewis who had that big hit years later with "Tossin' and Turnin'"

"Pure Sound" and the joyful noise...not such a big part of music anymore. From Big Band idiocy ("The Hut Sut Song") to doo-wop, to the scat singing of Ella Fitzgerald and Roger Miller, to Chipmunks novelty songs...there was always a place for frisky sound effects and sing-alongs. Now? Well, there's a farty pastime called "beat boxing," but can you think of two more sinister and unpleasant words? A "beat boxer" is no entertainer, just a spitty show-off, the exact opposite of a warm, giving, ebullient performer such as Bobby Lewis.

Lewis is now about 88 years old, living in Newark, and mostly blind. But he can still get on stage if asked, and if given the opportunity to do more than the "hit single," he probably could do a wonderful job on "Mumbles Blues."

Maybe Clark Terry is the most famous "mumbler" of all time, but this IS a nice one. Some song lyrics don't need much analysis. As for Bobby's sound effects, he's doing a nice job of both mumbling AND stuttering. Mumbles you killin' me! Just download it for some fun….

Tossin, Turnin…. MUMBLIN and STUTTERIN'

JOSE CAN YOU SING? Jose Gonzalez-Gonzalez "TACOS FOR TWO"

Salsa replaced ketchup as America's favorite condiment. You're being asked to choose whether to continue in English or SPANISH when you use your ATM machine or call up 311 for a complaint. You go to a movie and can't understand the actress because it's Penelope Cruz. Telemundo beats NBC in the ratings. Half of Cuba is in Florida and areas of Manhattan are so Puerto Rican and Dominican it's hard to find a single store front with an English-speaking sign in the window. The Catholic church wisely chooses a new Pope from their best baby-making ethnicity. Wall Street cries for Argentina and the rest of Latin America. You watch Jimmy Kimmel's late night show and nobody's complaining that his sidekick Guillermo is a fat, ugly nasal-voiced stereotype of a Mexican because…men (and women!) who look like him now outnumber most everyone in California.

What do you do, amigo? Enjoy…TACOS FOR TWO.

Poor Jose Gonzalez-Gonzalez. He was a little ahead of his time. But maybe somebody will download this and add some Jenni Rivera beats or Thalia thump and his relatives will be making mucho dinero!

If you're a student of oddball novelty, that last name MIGHT seem familiar to you. Jose Gonzalez-Gonzalez. Wasn't he that comical deadpan guy who was a contestant on Groucho's "You Bet Your Life" show? Si?

NO. But…it was his brother, Pedro!

And aside from Desi Arnaz, he may have been one of the first Latino laugh-getters early TV audiences saw. After all, Mel Blanc ("Cy" the Mexican) and Bill Dana ("Jose Jimenez") were both Jewish. But let's not digress too mucho.

Pedro's appearance on Groucho's show led to a decent part-time career as a comic actor on TV and in films. All because of his ability to match Groucho's questions with cute, obstinate responses. Yeah, he had a redundant last name ( his father and mother were both named Gonzalez. ) He also had a brother Jose.

And it was Jose who gifted the family with one novelty single, the obscure but unforgivable…unforgettable, "Tacos for Two." Which does almost sound like some racist thing Spike Jones might've recorded to go with the awful Jewish and Asian dialect numbers that mar some of his compilation albums.

If the track makes you want more of Jose Gonzalez-Gonzalez you might find him in bad sitcoms ("Baileys of Balboa," "My Mother The Car") and as a stereotypical character in brief scenes in a few movies ("Herbie Goes Bananas" and as "Wetback" in a 1956 Lloyd Bridges movie called "Wetbacks.") Never deserting music, Jose could play bottles and pans as if they were xylophones and drum sets, and toured the country with his own stage shows, specializing in state fairs and conventions. He was a mainstay at the Los Angeles County Fair, the Monterey Fair and the State Fair in Sacramento, as well as Los Angeles' annual birthday extravaganzas and Cinco de Mayo celebrations in such places as Santa Ana's Centennial Regional Park. A bit part as a mariachi musician in Leslie Nielsen's 1991 "Naked Gun: The Smell of Fear" was Jose's last film credit. He died on December 15, 2000. Brother Pedro died February 6, 2006.

But he LIVES. Viva Jose Gonzalez-Gonzalez. It's time for…

JOSE Tacos for TWO

LANCE RENTZEL : INDECENT EXPOSURE BEHIND THE MUSIC

It's hard not to feel badly for someone like Lance Rentzel. Sort of. A sports figure is supposed to be a hero, but he's just some jock who might have some mental problems. If his mental problem is being a gambler (Pete Rose), a con-artist weasel (Lenny Dykstra), or even a wrongful death murderer (O.J. Simpson) he can still hold his head up, get news coverage, and have fans. But if it's a sexual problem, and doesn't even involve touching the victim? Rentzel now can't really show his face. He can't do memorabilia shows. Not even after 30 years.

If the athlete exposing himself is not particularly well known (Ed Bouchee) there aren't blazing headlines and the man can resume his career and later go to autograph-signing shows if he feels like it, reliving the good times. If it's a non-consensual gang bang involving another player's woman, but can't be fully documented with videotaped evidence (Dwight Gooden, Vince Coleman and Daryl Boston taking their turns at bat) then people likewise forget. If the incident is wife-swapping and the guy ends up divorced and looking like a total asshole AND he's not much of an athlete anyway, he can change his name and disappear (oh, Mike Kekich where art thou…nevermind….)

But Rentzel? The unusual name, his huge fame (a star athlete married to Joey Heatherton) and being officially caught TWICE exposing himself to young girls? Hey, that's the third strike, even if you're a football player.

Rentzel got away with it once in 1967 when he was with the Minnesota Vikings, and the charge was quietly reduced to "disorderly conduct." But three years later, while a member of the Dallas Cowboys and Joey-married, his victim's family refused all bribes and chose to shame his fame. And they did, nevermind his excuses, his depression, his confusion. Rentzel's marriage ended, and while he did manage to keep playing (for the Rams) the scandal sent him to exile and obscurity soon after. His whereabouts and his life over the past decades are not well known.

Footnote #1: scandal-plagued bike rider Lance Armstrong was named after Lance Rentzel.

Footnote #2: Rentzel blamed the first incident on depression after reading the book "1984." The second incident after watching the movie "2001: A Space Odyssey."

Footnote #3: Lance's book is mostly a straight autobiography, not entirely about two incidents or the psycho-sexual phenomenon of guys who either have a turn-on or suddenly are driven to "prove their masculinity" by flashing (especially flashing at young girls or old ladies who'd be most likely to show a reaction). An irony is that Lance talks about the sadistic coaches that worked players till they dropped (not illegal) and the hazing rituals he and other college athletes went through. Like being forced to crawl around backward with "grapes up our asses" while drinking body fluids and getting smacked with battery-powered cattle prods. Ohhh, that's normal college activity! All the laughter hasn't died as far as college fraternity and sorority antics go...it still goes on, and nobody's as concerned with that shit as they are with protecting children from...the sight of a dick? Which they get to see on line thanks to our wonderful Internet sometimes by accident but many times on purpose by people a lot more evil than Lance Rentzel?

And here's a musical footnote. When he was a big star, Lance was even asked to make a record.

LOOKIN' LIKE SOMETHIN' THAT AIN'T?...too easy to make that into a dick joke. Let's just say that this star athlete, who wrote a book trying to explain himself, was not a bad singer. He does a nice job on this mild soul B-side. It's short and painless. No, that's not a dick joke either.

Lance Rentzel LOOKIN' LIKE SOMETHIN' THAT AIN'T

10 PIECES FOR CHILDREN - Dmitri Kabalevsky

10 songs in about six minutes?

That shouldn't tax anyone's attention span, even a child's. What you'll hear may sound more like piano for a Charlie Chaplin short than "classical music." No wonder. Kabalevsky began his career at the keyboard in St. Petersburg theaters, adding music to silent movies!

The reason for an all-classical set this time? Well, the blog IS designed to shine a light on obscure stuff that is actually worth hearing in any category. Well, any category I care about. This entry may also have nostalgia appeal as well. For many piano students, Dmitri (not Dimitri) Kabalevsky was the first composer they could master.

While the guy couldn't exactly compete with past masters Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff and Stravinsky, neither could anyone else. By the last half of the 20th Century, "classical" music was done. Along with painting and sculpture, all that most moderns could do was fuck things up with discord, bizarre shit and experimentation. No way could they add to the perfection of previous centuries, so they just pushed Darwin on his ass and began doing stuff that had observers grumbling, "hey, even a child could do that!" It's called "art" but rarely is. Kab, at least, who passed away fairly recently for a great master (1987) tried something more creative. He composed a lot of legitimately good classical music FOR a child to play. Or even more advanced students. These are probably the most popular things he composed, along with "The Comedians Suite." But the days of attempting a symphony that could compare with the masters…that was over. (With a nod to Kab's contemporary Prokofiev, best known not for any symphony or concerto but accessible suites involving "Three Oranges" and "Lt. Kije.")

There was never a shortage of classical pieces for kids to practice with, but before Kabalevsky most of this was simplified versions of "The Moonlight Sonata" or bare-bones arrangements of symphonic melodies. While it was nice to be able to fool some relative with what sounded like Mozart, it was a little more satisfying to play something not so well known, and a bit more fresh and contemporary. I know this from experience…as I enjoyed playing some of the Kabalevsky pieces in the download below….along with things like "The Wild Horseman" and "The Happy Farmer," both from Robert Schumann, one of the few major composers to give his pupils some exciting but easy compositions to play.

The ten easy pieces below (and Kab wrote dozens more of them) starts with a favorite of mine, "A Sad Tale," which is far sadder the way I play it. There's just a brief pause between each 40 or 50 second tune, most intended to educate a kid on a particular music form (like "Rondo" or "Scherzo," which seemed the same to me). Some little songs led potential kiddie-composers to perhaps try and illustrate an emotion or activity with their own tune, though the result was probably more "Clowning" than anything else. The complete rundown:

A Sad Tale, Old Dance, Cradle Song, Little Fable, Clowning, Rondo, Toccatina, A Little Prank, Scherzo, and March.

Once we all mastered this stuff, we either gave up, or moved on to "real" piano playing, seeking out the actual manuscripts a Horowitz or Brendel used in the recording of a "real" sonata. And along with Vladimir and Alfred, we somehow never thought to play our sweet Kiddie Klassics ever again in front of an audience. That's why it's not easy to find Kabalevsky's student-oriented piano studies on vinyl or compact disc. The ten here come from an old Musical Heritage 12 inch, as performed by Armenian-Turkish pianist and Victor Borge sidekick Sahan Arzruni.

TEN EASY PIECES Dmitri Kabalevsky

INKI AND THE MINAH BIRD - BIRD-BRAINED MENDELSSOHN

Banned by broadcast TV and not on official DVDs, the Warner Bros. "Inki" cartoon series is often dimly remembered as some kind of hallucination. No words. Some strange philosophy behind life and death or thought and action. And...that music...the trademark loping classical refrain any time the grim minah bird hopped into the scene. Unfortunately his co-star was "Inki," a little African native boy that in name and features some find politically incorrect. It's kept the meager "Inki" cartoon series a cult item for decades now.

Some seventy years ago, "Inki and the Minah Bird" was received well enough to sputter a few sequels, years apart, before being abandoned entirely in favor of the more popular Porky Pig, Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck stuff. Nothing remotely as baffling, intellectual or mysteriously appealing would come out of the Warners cartoon mill till "One Froggy Evening" many years later. That one, ironically, was also memorable in part for the music, including the original 20's-flavored song "Michigan Rag."

With no dialogue (or dialect, fortunately), each "Inki" cartoon was a meditation on the frantic violence of a savage world (usually a ferocious lion chasing Inki) and the stoic attempts of the bird, like Poe's Raven, to ignore it with "NEVERMORE" determination and eyes cast downward. Looking more like a distant crow relative of Heckle and Jeckle, he was one of the more intriguing and subtle characters in the Warners stable, especially considering a minah is known as a good talker and they had Mel Blanc ready at the microphone. But…whether to get some peace and quiet, or to see to it that good triumphs over bad, the minah bird would silently choose when to turn from stoic observer into a violently active participant. There was also some question over whether he was on one side or the other, or a total misanthrope bearing allegiance to nobody but himself.

For some, the Warner Bros. cartoon soundtracks were early introductions to classical music. Their music department brilliantly adapted Mendelssohn's "Hebrides Overture," for their minah bird.

It's ironic that a composer who is alternately claimed as both Jewish and Protestant/Lutheran (converting made life less stressful in Hamburg) and sometimes listed as Jakob Felix Mendelssohn or Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, should have several titles associated with his best symphonic work. It's still known alternately as both "The Hebrides Overture" and "Fingal's Cave."

Barely out of his 20's, Hamburger Felix was already a sophisticated composer and a world traveler. In 1830 he visited the Hebrides in Scotland, and was awed by the sight of Fingal's 35 foot high cave. He sketched a tone poem that he called "The Lonely Island." The moody, roiling turbulence in the piece seemed to capture some of the seasickness that made getting to the island less than fun.

By 1832 the finished, more substantial work was now called "The Hebrides." It ended up being categorized as an "overture" even though it isn't. Just to confuse things further, when the piece was actually published for orchestras around the world to play, it was printed up as "Fingal's Cave," apparently due to Felix once again revising the title. No less a genius than Brahms himself declared his love of this salty suite: "“I would gladly give all my works if I had succeeded in composing a piece like the Hebrides Overture."

Below?

I've created a four minute version of "Inki and the Minah Bird" from the original soundtrack, editing out some of the dead air, and sound effects that are just noisy and wouldn't mean anything.

You also get a "real" version of the original "Hebrides Overture" for comparison.

Felix cartooned: Four Minute "Cartoon Audio" Single: INKI AND THE MINAH BIRD by Ill Folks

HEBRIDES OVERTURE - FINGAL'S CAVE Bamberg Symphony Orchestra

SATIE on the HARMONICA - via CLAUDE GARDEN

This unusually esoteric "all classical" set of new additions to the blog ends with….the lowly harmonica brought to the high art of quality music.

"Claude Garden!" "What, the cat has been pulling up the grass in the back yard again?"

Perhaps in France Claude's better known than Larry Adler among famous name harmonica players. Maybe this blog will change all that. Not. He did issue a few albums, and even a pop single of that annoying ditty "Nola."

Garden's obscure French pressing of romantic toots to modern composers Satie, Faure, Debussy, Milhaud and Bartok sounds like music, not a gimmick. The odd Frenchie is joined by silly piano accompaniment. Oh. Typo. The woman's name isn't Silly, it's Catherine Silie. And to make it a three-way, there's Marielle Nordmann on "harp" (which is pretty ironic if you think about how many people now call a harmonica a "harp." It's not just me and Bobby McGee.)

Probably because classical music is an acquired taste, and not easy listening (in the James Last way…something overweight Dutchmen can tearfully smile and sob to), there are often unfortunate attempts to trick people into listening. There's "Pops" concerts and "Greatest Hits" albums that simplify the music, jazz artists "swinging" the classics, and "trick instrument" deals where somebody figures you might dig Bach if it's played on a koto or a moog synthesizer. But Claude's harmonica versions aren't too bastardy, even if he does play safe and choose very melodic stuff that NPR radio stations like so much. Fortunately, no Pachelbel here, but yes, warm and fuzzy Faure and minor key snake charmer Satie.

Saving bandwidth so the blog can offer a wide variety of samples is the main reason the download is restricted to one cut, "Maniere de Commencement des 3 Morceaux en forme de Poire." Yeah, even if you translate the Satie title and notice "pear-shaped pieces" in there, it's not quite as catchy as "Flabby Preludes for a Dog" or some of his other whimsies. But...Vive le musique…and now you know that the harmonica is capable of doing more than spitting "Red River Valley" or "Clementine" via a hyper child or hillbilly, or being blasted by Bob Dylan or gooned by Max Geldray

Claude Garden Monsieur, you Satie on a Harmonica?

HOLT AND JONAH - THE RISE OF MOVIEVILLE (Brecht & Weill, NOT)

This, the blog of less renown (so obscure most people don't even get the Les Brown reference) once again offers you information and a download on a music act you never heard of; one that should've had a better fate.

In the early 60's, Nichols and May became famous and went to Broadway with their acerbic, neurotic brand of satire. Taking the opposite approach, Stiller and Meara soon became famous (and "The Ed Sullivan Show" regulars) with broader, more human comedy on the differences between man and woman and Jew and Gentile. All four would eventually have successes in solo careers. (Mike Nichols has directed many a brilliant film and play, Elaine May has also written and directed some remarkable work. Comic actors Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara are still married, and yeah, spawned Ben Stiller.)

Also playing the same clubs, but not reaching TV or Broadway, Holt and Jonah were a synthesis of the other two acts. Like Mike Nichols, Will Holt tended to play it uptight and brittle. In his case, WASPy as well. Like Anne Meara, or even Jerry Stiller, Dolly Jonah was blunt and at times boisterous.

They did make one album for Atlantic, called "On the Brink." Which we now know was not the brink of success. The cover pose had them dressed as sophisticates while standing in the rubble of a destroyed building.

Back in the late 50's and early 60's, nightclubs flourished, and urban clubs in Chicago, New York, St. Louis, San Francisco and elsewhere gave the "intelligentsia" sophisticated and challenging humor that could at least match Fred Allen of radio, or Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley of the magazine world. Audiences were expected to "get" the references to literature, art and history, and in the case of Holt and Jonah's closing showpiece, Brecht and Weill.

An evening of Holt and Jonah touched ground in many areas. The dynamic in their best routines was the down-to-earth broad giving an elbow in the ribs to Mr. Hung-up. There was also room for songs (Will Holt having been a solo folk singer for years, and the first to record "The M.T.A." comic ballad about a guy unable to get off a Boston train).

Let's just say it was a great (lost) age when people came to a nightclub to hear challenging, brainy material, be it poems (Henry Gibson), rambling political riffs (Mort Sahl), fake lectures (Professor Irwin Corey), dark meditations (Brother Theodore), theatrical monology touching on Freud and Kafka (Shelley Berman), or…this rather daring and ambitious serio-comic mini-musical Hollywood satire incorporating the stylings of "Threepenny Opera."

Will Holt went on to write lyrics for a few successful off-Broadway and Broadway shows. As previously mentioned here, he put lyrics to "Lemon Tree," which was a hit for Trini Lopez, and wrote "One Of Those Songs," a catchy vaudevillian novelty which was a favorite of belting-bozos like Jimmy Durante. Sadly, Dolly Jonah, who acted in the films "The Pawnbroker" and "Harry and Tonto," and performed solo in cabaret, died back in 1983. She was only 53 years old. Her ebullience is well-captured on the track below, which brims with both a joyous and wicked sense of humor.

Holt and Jonah The Rise and Fall of the City of MOVIEVILLE

JULIUS MONK REVUE : THE HOLY MAN AND THE NEW YORKER

Before there was "Saturday Night Live" in America, or "That Was The Week That Was" in Great Britain…there was the late 50's.

Before your time, and mine, intelligent audiences couldn't find topical, sophisticated or thoughtful humor on late night television. Not anything close. There wasn't much on even the most avant-garde indie radio station, either. What did they do?

They went to a now almost-extinct form of nightclub entertainment called the "revue." Or cabaret. Or review. This was where sketch comedy was droll, and following in the less polished footsteps of Noel Coward and Cole Porter, one might find a singer offering a witty ballad. Many top songwriters began by submitting material to these shows, from the Americans Schmidt and Jones (alias the authors of "The Fantasticks") to the British team of Flanders and Swann.

Though there was plenty of "shoestring" and "new faces" competition (from Bagley, Sillman and other producers), Julius Monk made his shows a favorite among New York theater fans, especially for those who had already pored through the week's New Yorker cartoons, loving both the grim (Chas Addams) and the obscure (William Steig). Each season, offbeat off-Broadway fans went to see the latest edition (each with an ascending numerical title) "Four Below" or "Take Five" or "Demi-Dozen," enjoying material that was witty and usually in good taste. [Ronny Graham's cheerful "hep smoke a reefer" bit drew the jealous ire of hipster Lenny Bruce...one of the few times a Monk revue monologue strayed into bohemian concerns.] In other words, if it was the subject of a New Yorker cartoon, it might be worthy of a Monk sketch...and an evening at a Monk show got you six performers instead of just one comic and a folk trio.

"Demi Dozen" was probably the best Monk show, featuring a controversial sketch about Madison Avenue mad men trying to spin away the news that cigarettes cause cancer (written by pre-Jose Jimenez Bill Dana), and a frisky song, "The Race of the Lexington Avenue Express" sung by comic diva Jane Connell. Also, the change-up: "The Holy Man and the New Yorker," performed by Gerry Matthews (later getting a good paycheck as the voice of Sugar Bear, a cereal spokes-creature in TV commercials). Like Flanders & Swann, who offered "20 Tons of TNT" and "Slow Train," or even downtown beatnik Shel Silverstein (who performed the sad "Unicorn" along with the raucous "It Does Not Pay to Be Hip') a good love song or a bit of comic-drama was welcomed to make for a varied evening.

As these blog entries tend to go on too long anyway, let's end the discussion of Mr. Monk and his revues here (no surprise he and the entire genre disappeared by the late 60's when decent late night TV became available) and let you discover "The Holy Man and the New Yorker" for yourself.

HOLY MAN AND THE NEW YORKER performed by Gerry Matthews

JULIUS MONK REVUE: "CON EDISON" RAP

"That's so old," Professor Moriarty (as portrayed by Henry Daniell) sneered, "it's new."

If he was around today, he'd refer to "hip hop" that way, as a prime example of something diabolical…of the fiendish way dangerously ignorant people took nursery rhyme and melded it to rotten percussion. "Hip Hop" -- sounds like a dance taught to mentally slow children around Easter. And yet these simple-minded idiots with "bling" on their teeth would tell you "hip hop" is new and cutting edge...not a fouling of nursery rhyme and the most simple and mindless of rhythms.

Old folkies will claim that Bob Dylan's "Homesick Subterranean Blues" was the first popular rap. But older folkies would tell you that Bob only rocked the well-known "talking blues," a style of monologue-with-music heard for over a century.

Uptown from Greenwich Village clubs that booked Dylan was a place called "Upstairs at the Downstairs." That part of town, the West 50's, was known for Broadway theaters, chic nightclubs, and a variety of "cult" establishments where you could listen to jazz and/or "sick comics" turning stand-up comedy on its head.

At "Upstairs at the Downstairs," impresario Julius Monk booked fresh young talent. This included promising singers and comics such as Tammy Grimes, Dorothy Loudon, Ronny Graham and Mary Louise Wilson. I'd name more, but you probably would not have heard of them, as most chose to graduate to Broadway, not to movies or television. Wilson's list of credits over the years is remarkable for someone most have never heard of.

Each season, Monk would throw together a new show of sketches and comedy songs aimed at the affluent upper middle-class. He was not out to offend, nor was he very political. His sense of humor was very much like most of the New Yorker cartoons of the day…preoccupied with the PTA, fashion, the vagaries of Madison Avenue, or being anyone whose job at the office might lead to taking tranquilizers.

One of the lesser shows, "Dressed to the Nines," (1960), does have some odd tracks. There's one about a teenage junkie getting a fix from her nanny, a silly novelty about celebrities getting married (if Sybil Thorndike married Ish Kabibble she'd become Sybil Kabibble - ha ha, tra la), and a quick sketch about a neurotic consulting his shrink — who happens to be his girlfriend's father. Buried in the mix is "Con Edison," which might be the first "comedy rap."

Except….at that time the audience knew the source material: Vachel Lindsay's "The Congo," which was sort of "rap" without any music beyond the rhythm of the words. The joke (then) was a bunch of sophisticated New Yorkers reduced to rapping about the city's electricity provider the same way Lindsay chanted about jungle creatures. Some of Lindsay's experiments in sound were recorded back in 1931...most notably his attempt to mimic feline noises ("Proud Mysterious Cat") and his epic "The Congo," now quite un-PC in noting the "basic savagery" of the black race…as well as the excitement of their culture, glory of their percussion and the soulfulness of their vocalizing. Anyway…"Con Edison" appropriates the rap-percussion and expands on it…poking fun and eardrums at the way the utility fucked up the streets (and still does).

Maybe you'll be amused because…it's so old, now it's new.

DRESSED TO THE NINES CON EDISON

ILL-USTRATED Songs #22: ON THE ROAD TO MANDALAY - FRANKIE LAINE

Submitted for your approval…"On the Road to Mandalay," yet another of those great over-the-top songs belted by Frankie Laine. The man could do no wrong, whether it was whooping it up about Poe's "Annabel Lee," whipping out "Blazing Saddles," or telling everyone where the "Wild Goose" goes.

Most any good narrator of the poem will growl disgust over the paving stones of "civilization" and speak softly of the wonders in nature. Jazz singer Frankie keeps to one groovy pace. Still, you get the idea he'd trade a smokey nightclub and boozing till 3 am for a place to cook up a few flyin' fishes for breakfast and watch "the dawn come up like thunder."

The original poem touched on a soldier's frustrations with war, religious cultism, and, back home, the "reward" of dreary, monotonous life in the average city.

And what's happened since Kipling wrote the poem? We still have insane war and much of it caused by religious fanatics. City life is excruciatingly stressful. There ain't no Burma anymore. There ain't no Frankie Laine either. As for finding a guileless gal who will be a good companion, today's British soldier is more likely to go off to Thailand and find a ladyboy in a brothel than a sexy obedient girl named "Supi-yaw-lat."

Ladyboys and religious fanatics where flying fishes used to play? The original poem had the soldier want to go where "there are no ten commandments!" (In Frankie's version, the Christian-friendly re-write is "where there are no regulations.") OK. This part of the poem is now true!

In 2013 there are no ten commandments. At least, not ten that anyone follows. Any good advice in the New Testament, the Koran or any other "holy" book is being ignored.. Soon enough, thanks to climate change, there won't be flying fish anywhere at all, and nowhere to find a "neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land." And when "the dawn comes up like thunder," it's probably going to be a nuclear bomb detonated by some religious fanatic. But dig that last explosive note from the fabulous Frankie Laine! Hold onto your platter of fish and chips, mate, this guy's bombastic voice could make that fish take off and fly through the air...right to China, cross the bay.

Enjoy the twisted climate change caused when Rudyard Kipling's words get swung through the mighty lungs of an Italian jazz singer. Yessir, the best IS like the worst.

Swingin' them flyin' fishes... Frankie Laine on THE ROAD TO MANDALAY

OWEN BRANNIGAN - Broom Buzzems to Dick Deadeye (NORTHUMBRIA)

Tomorrow will mark the 40th anniversary of Owen Brannigan's death (March 10, 1908-May 10, 1973).

Yes, he's now un-Owen, and, to flog the Agatha Christie pun, also unknown. To most. In other words, I doubt I'd get much for the autographed Owen Brannigan card if I put it on eBay.

In his era (the 1940's) Owen Brannigan was the premiere British baritone. He was in the original Sadler's Wells production of "Peter Grimes." Benjamin Britten wrote several opera parts with Owen in mind, including "Bottom" in "Midsummer Night's Dream." My first encounter with him was when he played Dick Deadeye on the classic "HMS Pinafore" two-record set issued by Angel in the 50's and featuring the Pro Arte Orchestra and Glyndebourne Festival Chorus. For me he was the first and the definitive Dick Deadeye.

A talent with less lofty notes than opera and operetta, the "Tynesider" from Annitsford, Northumberland was justly proud of his area's popular songs and folk tradition, and a pleasing result can be found on "Brannigan's Northumbria." Quite a few tunes are sung in a rather impenetrable dialect. The samples below are among the best tracks.

1. BUY BROOM BUZZEMS sounds quite rude, doesn't it? Never fear, it's based on another regional tune, "Green Brown Besoms," which may have originated in Newcastle.

2. CA' HAWKIE THRO' THE WATER is a stirring example of Brannigan's vocal abilities, whether you catch all the words or not. The "Ca" is a cow, and the singer is having a lot of problems getting the clunky animal across a stream. You wouldn't think the subject of the song was so mundane, based on the ominous music. Then again, the minor key music may be a warning to be careful where you step when you've got a cow around.

3. THE COLLIER'S RANT is from Durham, and wouldn't it be nice if there was subtitles for this? The song is about two guys who meet the Devil himself down in a mine, and go after the evil one's horns.

4. WHERE IVVER YE GAN YOU'RE SURE TO FIND A GEORDIE is pretty easy to figure out. Owen sings with grand pride, and by the end, you get the fun that only a baritone or bass can have….dropping the last notes oh…so…LOW

5-8. HMS PINAFORE EXCERPTS. Here are the great scenes featuring cynical realist Dick Deadeye. Learning that the hero's been spurned, he laughs out loud, and scornfully reminds one and all that a mere "slave" deck hand shouldn't woo the "gallant captain's daughter." Called a "vermin," Deadeye skulks away, only to be driven into a blacker mood when the captain's daughter has the damn nerve to change her mind…and prevent the hero from killing himself! While everyone rejoices, Deadeye growls his revenge…which involves ratting out the happy couple to the captain himself! Does the captain want his virginal daughter to become "less coy in many various ways?" Wouldn't it be better to take a cat o' nine tails to the lustful sailor instead? As happy endings are SO disgusting, we leave Dick Deadeye and the Captain at this point. The great moments of Dick Deadeye in "HMS Pinafore" only run six or eight minutes…but remain (for SOME of us) the highlights of the entire operetta.

Brannigan is featured on many Gilbert & Sullivan recordings, Benjamin Britten opera CDs, and there's more old vinyl out there, including "Kipling in Song." Most of Owen's solo albums are pretty hard to find except on British eBay.

Geordies, British folk fans, opera buffs and Gilbert & Sullivan fans....these are the ones most likely to know the name "Owen Brannigan" from a theater program or record album. Now, thanks to the Internet...Geordies, British folk fans, opera buffs and Gilbert & Sullivan fans are still the ones most likely to know or care about the name "Owen Brannigan." Owe well.

OWEN BRANNIGAN NORTHUMBRIA and PINAFORE zip file.

WHEN LES PAUL BACKED W.C. FIELDS; AND HOW DID FIELDS DIE?

It happened before Eminem rapped in the middle of a Dido song.

It happened before Les Crane narrated "Desiderata" to musical backing.

W.C. Fields recorded monologues with music over 60 years ago...and who better to accompany the genius of enunciation than that master of the guitar…Les Paul?

Someone wanted to get Fields on wax if it was the last thing he did. And it was.

In 1936, The Great Man had health problems that left him with radio as his only option, delighting fans with his unique voice and cadence. He eventually was well enough to make movies again, but by 1946 alcohol and aging had sent him to a sanitarium.

Hoping to keep his spirits up (no, not spiritus fermenti), Fields' friend Bill Morrow arranged for a visit to Les Paul's new home recording studio. On a hot day in July, hobbling on a cane, and wearing shoes split open to ease the pain in his badly swollen feet, Fields made his appearance. He eyed the way Les Paul was fiddling around amid double-track equipment and control boards, and called him an "octopus." Paul was amused, and named his new machine OCT, short for octopus. Soon after, the recording genius expanded his studio to include a true "octopus," a pioneering 8-track tape recorder.

Fields drank some booze and squinted at the familiar lines he'd performed on radio, but his deteriorating eyesight, and very pickled gray matter, made recording impossible. The lines had to be literally re-written, LARGE, on a set of cards, so he could handle the strain. Uncle Bill's sight-reading errors could be funny in front of an audience, but not on disc. On radio, he once delivered a boozy version of "The Temperance Lecture" fumbling "pocket-picking school" into "picket-pocking school." The line "I stumbled across a case of bourbon," got mangled enough for him to chuckle and say "I stumbled across that…"

Thanks to the huge cards, Fields was able to get through the session, one that was such a dim memory that Les Paul couldn't recall who the pianist was on "Temperance Lecture," or the names of the actor and actress who helped out in the "Day I Drank a Glass of Water" sketch (for which he ad-libbed guitar accompaniment).

The most exhaustive recent biography of Fields, by James Curtis (2003) digs up a lot of obscure information on Fields, but there are some errors, or at least, some fuzzy recollections, including Les Paul "strumming the guitar" on "The Temperance Lecture," when the background was piano. Guitar was only on "The Day I Drank a Glass of Water." Curtis doesn't mention the two supporting players in that routine. Curtis did affirm that Les Paul handled all the recording, and "set the level, dropped the needle down, ran back into the studio and…started to record" because "Nobody else was engineering that day."

Fields sounds robust enough on these recordings, but this was the last time the public would ever hear his familiar voice. Five months later, he was dead. There had been hope, around Thanksgiving, that Fields could navigate a wheelchair over to Bing Crosby's radio show for a broadcast scheduled on December 22nd. He never made it. The first biography of Fields, by Robert Lewis Taylor in 1949, describes the comedian's sad condition:

"…he had periods of delirium. Occasionally he cursed and railed at things…and once out of a blue sky, he sang what appeared to be a kind of love song…Shortly before midnight (December 25th), Miss Monti took his hand and began calling to him. While she pleaded, he opened his eyes, and, noting the people in the room put a finger to his lips and winked. A few minutes later, as bells over the city announced the arrival of Christmas morning, he suffered a violent hemorrhage of the stomach. The blood bubbled thickly out of his lips, he drew several long sighs, and lay still. "

You'd think this account would be the most accurate, written only a few years after Bill Fields died, and with access to Bill's two closest female friends, Magda Michael and Carlotta Monti.

Monti, Fields' secretary and on-and-off mistress (in his late 60's he was more off than on), published her own book in 1973. Her version has him alive and cursing well past midnight:

"On Christmas Day, shortly before noon, he said to me, "Grab everything and run. The vultures are coming…" At three minutes past noon he…cursed forcefully, his face twisted with pain. "Goddamn," he repeated, his eyes opened wider than I'd ever seen them. His voice was the rusting and crackling of dry leaves. "Goddamn the whole friggin' world and everyone in it but you, Carlotta."

"Those were his last words. He was shaken by a violent stomach hemorrhage. Moments later he was dead, at the age of sixty-eight."

Other biographers say Carlotta Monti wasn't even there when Fields died. The Curtis bio says Monti merely sent a card that arrived before Christmas day: "My outside men tell me your [sic] the same as ever. And I am always the same as ever - Truly yours, Carlotta."

Curtis writes that Fields was in a coma and "Magda stayed with him through Christmas Eve, maintaining a vigil at his bedside. Denied all powers of communication and the singular wit that had sustained him for nearly sixty-seven years, this most independent of men was now unable to perform even the simplest of tasks for himself, and it must have come as a relief when, at 12:03 on a rainy Christmas afternoon, Death gave him an old-fashioned hug."

Ronald Fields, W.C.'s grandson, also says Monti wasn't around. And in the bio (more a cut-and-paste job) by fanboy Simon Louvish, we read: "Later in the month, he lapsed into a coma. Magda Michael and the nurses kept the death watch. On the morning of Christmas Day…according to Ronald Fields, he awoke. Only Magda Michael and a nurse were in the room. Wrote Ronald: "He brought his forefinger to his lips to signify quiet, winked, then closed his eyes…"

Curtis writes that Carlotta Monti did appear at the sanitarium after Fields died, along with W.C.'s estranged son and wife. Amid the tumult, Fields' son insisted, "I did not strike Miss Monti. I merely pushed her…"

There was no push for copies of Fields' last recordings (issued on Les Paul's own indie label). It had been nearly six years since "The Bank Dick," his last screen success. Billboard's review when the records finally came out in March of 1947:

"Since the recent passing of comic W. C. Fields, many will want to own this six-sided disc book, if for nothing else, for memento's sake. The recordings…are far from being Fields at his best. Written and directed by Bill Morrow (Bing Crosby show's scribe), material is corny despite the sales efforts of the famed bourbon buffoon. Timing with few exceptions, was apparently ignored by scripter Morrow so that too often, the build-up for an obvious gag reveals the punch line long before it comes. As is the case with any waxed humor, after the first spinning there's no desire for replays…"

In the long-play era, the recordings got quiet re-issues on 10 inch (from Jay Records, top corner left in the first photo for this entry) and 12 inch format (Proscenium Records, with Fields on one side, Mae West vocals on the other). Finally, with "Laugh-In" and Tiny Tim popular in the late 60's, nostalgia made a comeback. Dubbed "anti-establishment," the Marx Brothers and the misanthropic W.C. Fields were hotter than ever, and even Laurel & Hardy got re-categorized as"Naturally High," for a Douglas Records album of voicetracks from their films. Decca issued Marx Brothers, Mae West and W.C. FIelds voicetracks (with "Laugh-In" announcer Gary Owens supplying narration). Blue Thumb's 1968 release "Original and Authentic Recording by the great W.C. Fields" didn't tell consumers what exactly they were buying. One might consider this in the spirit of Mr. Fields, who once said "Never give a sucker an even break, or smarten up a chump!"

Being one of the chumps, I bought the album, only to discover I'd been rooked into buying the familiar two Les Paul recordings. The label added Mae West singing "Come Up an See Me Sometime" at the end of the side that had "The Day I Drank A Glass Of Water"…maybe forgetting where to cut the tape on the old Proscenium master.

The album does have a fairly decent colorized shot of W.C. Fields on the cover. Ironically, this time the Billboard reviewer declared it to be "vintage Fields, containing some of his best lines."

Of all the various releases, only the original Varsity Records 78 rpm package has liner notes worth noting. On the front inner sleeve is a photo of Fields along with "The Story of My Life," a scant four paragraphs that mostly talk about how he left home, learned to juggle, toured the world, and ended up in the Ziegfeld Follies…."and finally nosed my way into motion pictures and then into radio. And there you have it." And you have the "ultimo," W.C. Fields' last creative gasps…two recordings, one of them with the uncredited (modest fellow…his name is nowhere to be found as producer, engineer or performer) guitarist Les Paul.

W.C. FIELDS THE TEMPERANCE LECTURE

THE DAY I DRANK A GLASS OF WATER

GEORGE JONES Last Gasp: Sings "He Stopped Loving Her Today" March 2013

"You never know when you're gonna pass away," George Jones said on his 80th birthday. He admitted, "If anybody should've been gone a long time ago…" odds would've been on him.

That quote, as well as a performance of "He Stopped Loving Her Today" about a month before he died, make up the download below

And the image below? Damn sad when his website reflected that he was "No Show Jones" for the last time....and there were tickets still being sold for concerts he would never, ever play.

"They call me 'No Show Jones,'" was how The Possum often opened his gigs, a triumphant chuckle at his own expense, comparing his nickname to the more theatrical ones from Kenny, Johnny and the others who wore costumes and were far better known to mainstream America. George? His years with Tammy Wynette were the last in which he fussed with an on stage wardrobe. After that, and sober in his golden years, he looked like any guy in the audience, wearing what looked like Haggar slacks and some semi-garish leisure shirt. Everybody could identify with that common-named guy on stage. Only the hair spray that turned his white-hair into a kind of meringue, was any sign that he was a performer. Aside from that voice.

The lead line from USA Today's obit:

"Hank Williams may have set country music's mythology and Johnny Cash its attitude, but Jones gave the genre its ultimate voice. With recordings that spanned 50 years...Jones influenced generations of country singers and was considered by many to be the greatest of them all." Yes, some 168 times on the charts, from 1955's "Why Baby Why" to "Country Boy" in 2010 with Charlie Daniels…and a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 2012.

But was he revered the way Hank and Johnny were? Not really. Because he was pure country and rarely had a crossover hit. And because his private life was not of romantic or heroic tragedy, but the humiliation of self-described insanity, paranoia, and pathetic drunken failure. Horribly enough, while enjoying his greatest success, the Award-winning "He Stopped Loving Her Today," George was too drunk or coked to perform on TV or in shows, could be found sitting in a car dirty and incoherent, was in debt by a million dollars, and often talking in tongues — — voices in his head coming out like Donald Duck or Walter Brennan. Riding a lawn mower to a liquor store because his car keys had been taken from him, was typical of the average drunken fool, not a "tragic star." Altercations with highway cops, and blackout rages at women did not get him sympathy in the press and those around him shunned him as they would any hopeless alkie. Abandoned by his band, divorced three times, he barely had a friend in the world...and the only one had him hauled away to a mental hospital.

There may have been glamor for the "Man in Black" who was photographed in almost heroic poses of defiance and despair as he fought his demons, but things were just ugly for "The Possum," until his fourth marriage in the early 80's, and sober middle-age. But even then, he lacked a manager and a music producer to give him the direction Johnny Cash had, and get him the broader audience he deserved.

Jones was often given that left-handed compliment of, "I don't like country music, but I like your stuff." Indeed, George was one of the very few singers who could save even weak material. Frank Sinatra said he was "the second greatest singer in America," and if the two had anything in common, it was a directness on stage. Sinatra didn't dress up much beyond the average guy either, except for a tux in Vegas. Sinatra sang in a way that made the lyrics matter, and he could get the best nuance out of any line. Keith Richards, Linda Ronstadt…there were a lot of varied artists lining up to get a chance to duet with George Jones. His peers admired him too. Waylon Jennings: “If we all could sound like we wanted to, we'd all sound like George Jones."

More than sounding like George Jones…a singer should sing as if that song is being sung right from the heart, right at the moment, made up on the spot. I must've heard dozens of different live versions of "He Stopped Loving Her Today" in concert, and you know, George did not sing it the same way twice. He never phoned it in. He found some way of keeping it fresh. Even on the version below, which is sadly more of a last gasp than singing, he's performing like it's the very first time...and like he just wrote it himself.

Jones fans knew this, and even as he changed record labels over the years, they supported him, and bought those sometimes disappointing and pretty chintzy CDs which usually had just 10 tracks on them and a number of clinkers. George did himself no favors...letting his producer choose 25 tracks which would then be cut to 10, but not showing that much interest in the recording process. Live shows, and singing the classic hits seemed to give him more satisfaction. He admitted in his autobiography that writing about the songs and how he selected them was not worth any time or effort. And sadly enough, aside from a specific concept album in which an Elvis Costello or James Taylor contributed a key number, the Jones albums of the 90's had an awful lot of hacky tunes on them cobbled by Nashville B-listers more often than a Curly Putman or a Rodney Crowell. There were exceptions, enough to keep him signed to a label and keep fans hoping for that "great" album (the way Sinatra would sometimes turn in a fresh classic satisfying from start to finish). What turned up in stores was not enough to get him on "The Tonight Show" too often, in the Top 10 on the charts, or in a venue beyond country fairs. A realist, though bitter about the direction of country music in general, George accepted his current status and appreciated those loyal fans. Just watch him on one of those infrequent live-show DVDS...they are a joy to watch...he's enjoying himself on stage as much as the crowd is.

George wrote in his autobiography, "Through it all I kept reading articles that said I was the greatest country singer alive…I was always appreciative, but I never understood how such a supposedly good singer could be such a troubled person. My talent, though it brought me fame and fortune, never brought me peace of mind."

George did have talent...a wealth and variety of it. Though known for "weepers," George's catalog runs the gamut from typical country tunes ("The Race is On") and gospel numbers to frisky novelties ("White Lightning" has some pretty zany sound effects). He was good at honky tonk regrets ("She Thinks I Still Care" written by Dickey Lee) and Leonard Cohen was a big fan of one of George's latter-day hits, "Choices."

Like Sinatra, George Jones aged to perfection; his inflections and his baritone got better in his 40's and 50's. Just as Sinatra's Columbia sides are quite pale compared to the ones for Capitol, a lot of what George did during his early days with Starday and Mercury and Musicor isn't as deeply artistic and satisfying as his later work on Epic and MCA. "White Lightning" and "Race is On" isn't what made him a legend; "He Stopped Loving Her Today" is.

Ironically George looked very good in his later years. If you take a look at photos and concert footage from the 70's, or 80''s, you'll note the deep lines in his face…which disappeared when he was actually in his 70's. And yet he didn't seem like, as Dolly Parton once noted of Kenny Rogers, he'd spent a lot of time at "Jiffy Suck" getting his skin ironed and Botox'd. But in his last years, suffering from respiratory problems, his voice was no longer strong. And so it was that he planned unlucky 2013 as his "farewell" year, and announced his final touring schedule.

This picture here…

I have dozens and dozens of George's albums and CDs. The CDs are in many many pages…I don't have room to keep everything in jewel cases anymore. I also have an autographed picture from George's days at MCA, and a more recent card signed in gold ink. The man was pure gold.

George reflects on being 80... and sings "He Stopped Loving Her Today," March, 2013.

GEORGE JONES' HIT-MAKER: THE NAME IS PUTMAN. CURLY PUTMAN.

Tom Jones was grateful.

George Jones was grateful.

Paul McCartney and Linda loved his "Farm."

Curly Putman's had an impact on many people in many ways. That's what happens when you're a good family man, and friend, and one of the greatest songwriters in the world. Curly Putman is the man behind two of the most memorable songs in the history of country music: "Green Green Grass of Home" and "He Stopped Loving Her Today."

Tom Jones may have been doomed to being a silly Vegas lounge act doing "What's New Pussycat" and "It's Not Unusual" if it wasn't for the chance to ride a Curly Putman ballad to the top of the charts. As for George Jones, the man's career, his entire persona, was changed by that "weeper" that is now regarded as simply the best C&W song of all time.

A few days ago, when the faded, brave George Jones became a "no show" trying to complete a final tour, the obits dutifully mentioned "He Stopped Loving Her Today," and Curly "Putnam." It's a shame that Curly's probably the most well-known typing error on record labels and in discographies. Hell, turn to page 316 and 317 of George Jones' paperback autobiography, and it's "PutNAM" twice. The New York Times' obit for George turned this into a typo variation: "Curly PuRNAM."

CURLY PUTMAN is the man's name. PUTMAN!

And no, he didn't get his nickname for being "Curly," a bald stooge! If you check his album covers, you'll see that he had dark curly hair. Born Claude Putnam in Alabama in 1930, he pursued his "elusive dreams" of being a songwriter while keeping his day job selling Thom McCann shoes. In Nashville he had a few tunes covered by Marion Worth and Charlie Walker, but could barely leave shoe business for show business, working for a record store, and gigging in local bands at night. At the age of 34, he finally got a break working as a song plugger for Tree Publishing. There, he pushed a song he wrote: "Green Green Grass of Home."

It was recorded by Johnny Darrell, which led to a cover by Porter Wagoner, which led to Tom Jones making it a ten million-selling world-wide crossover hit. "He Stopped Loving Her Today" was first recorded by Johnny Russell…but ultimately, re-worked and revised at the request of producer Billy Sherrill, this co-write with Bobby Braddock became the trademark for George Jones in 1980. USA Today noted, it "revived Jones'career and perhaps saved his life. It gave him his first No. 1 hit in five years and won four awards from the Country Music Association, including Song of the Year. It also gave him the first of his two Grammys."

George, so drunk he kept singing the melody for "Help Me Make it Through the Night," thought the song too "morbid" even by C&W standards, and couldn't even put together a few lyric lines in a row. "I couldn't get it," George recalled. "I had been able to sing while drunk all of my life…but I could never speak without slurring when drunk. What we needed to complete that song was the narration, but Billy could never catch me sober enough to record four simple lines."

Jones would record other Putman tunes, including 'Wino the Clown," but many other artists were having success with Curly's work, too. The name PUTMAN, either solo, or on a co-credit, was on The Kendalls’ “It Don’t Feel Like Sinnin’ to Me,” Ricky Van Shelton’s “I Meant Every Word He Said,” T. Graham Brown’s “I Wish That I Could Hurt That Way Again,” Ferlin Husky’s “Just for You,” and Dolly Parton's first chart single "Dumb Blonde," a song that continues to get fresh cover versions all the time thanks to the huge number of dumb blondes on "American Idol." Over the years, new C&W talent has picked up on Curly's songs, too. “There’s a New Kid in Town” has been covered by Alan Jackson, Kathy Mattea, George Strait and Trisha Yearwood.

You get a dozen examples of Curly's songwriting below: "Let's Keep It That Way" (Annie Murray), "Ballad of Two Brothers" (Autry Inman), "Six Foot Deep Six Foot Down" (George Jones), "My Elusive Dreams" (Glen Campbell and Bobbie Gentry), "The Older the Violin The Sweeter the Music" (Hank Thompson), "Divorce" (Tammy Wynette), "He Stopped Loving Her Today" (Marie O'Brien), "Change My Mind" (Waylon Jennings), 'You Can't Have Your Kate and Edith Too" (Statler Brothers), "It's a Cheating Situation" (Dale Watson and Kelly Willis), "You Never Cross My Mind" (Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn) and a b-side from Curly himself, "Take It All Off."

Only a few years ago Curly put out a CD called "Write 'em Sad -Sing 'em Lonesome." None of us buy many CDs anymore. I bought this one, which features guest appearances from Dolly Parton, Deborah Allen and Sarah Johns.

The CD contains his versions of three of my favorite Putman songs of all time, "Green Green Grass of Home," "Radio Lover" and "Wino the Clown." Those three are unabashed story-songs with punchline endings, and don't fool yourself, the man is the Alfred Hitchcock of country music. He may write 'em sad, but he also writes 'em wicked…knowing how to keep a listener in suspense till the final lines which can bring chills or tears.

Oh. Did I forget to mention the connection between Curly and Macca? Well, just go to the opening page of CurlyPutman dot com, and you can read about "Junior's Farm," which is where Paul and Linda stayed in 1974. There's another dotcom to visit as well: www.seanputman.com. A portion of the sales from Curly's CD go to the Sean Putman Memorial Fund, and you'll find out all about it at that site.

A DOZEN SHORT AND CURLIES: CURLY PUTMAN Classics

MICK FLAVIN - TWO FROM THE GEORGE JONES- CURLY PUTMAN SONGBOOK

When Curly Putman writes 'em sad…and when George Jones sings 'em spooky and gruesome…that's usually it. Nobody else touches 'em or even tries.

An exception is the Irish country singer Mick Flavin, the only guy who has covered BOTH "Wino the Clown" and "Radio Lover," a pair of O.Henry-type numbers from the pen of Mr. Putman.

Call it a tribute to Curly, more than an attempt to get the better of George. George, by the way, could've had a second career as a spoken arts narrator. As great as his singing is, he had an eerie way with those spoken passages that some C&W tunes required!

"Wino the Clown" in the Jones version is tenderly from the heart, ripe with pathos, as few knew the pains of alcoholism any better or worse than he did. George's take on "Radio Lover" has that grim possum grin about it. You get the idea that George relishes the dark, dark tragedy and revenge of the tale, and can't wait to get to the punchline.

The Flavin versions are nice covers. "Wino," with the appropriate squeamy violin, is dry-eyed but touching. "Radio Lover"becomes more of a gruesome news item than a campfire horror story.

Mick's humble beginnings in a farmhouse in Ballinamuk in the late 50's included playing Tex Ritter and Hank Williams singles on his record player. He got a guitar from a local music store in Longford, and while working as a carpenter, began to play in local bands. In 1978 he managed to tour with some dates in America, and soon had his first record deal in Ireland. He's recorded over a dozen albums of country music, and anyone with the talent and taste to choose the works of Curly Putman is well worth anyone's attention. The two sample songs are on "As Good As I Once Was," his "best of" 2 CD set.

RADIO LOVER Mick Flavin

WiNO the CLOWN MICK FLAVIN

ANNETTE FUNICELLO sings THE TONIGHT SHOW THEME: IT'S REALLY LOVE

Timely trivia: with the recent death of Annette Funicello, and Paul Anka hitting the talk show circuit to promote his autobiography "My Way," the blog finally gets around to mentioning the origin of Johnny Carson's iconic "The Tonight Show" theme. Which was recycled from Anka's "It's Really Love," a minor tune that Annette once sang. Which was itself recycled from Paul's instrumental called "Toot Sweet," perhaps titled as a tribute to the tootin' Salvatore "Tutti" Camarata, the Disney orchestra leader and arranger. "Toot Sweet" was recorded by Camarata on the Disney "Vista" label, under the name Tutti's Trumpets.

When Annette happened to sing during a hayride moment on a "Mickey Mouse Club" episode, and fans demanded the tune be released as a single, "Tutti" became her patient tutor and taught her how to sing along to a guide track. Though her voice would never be distinctive, and she remained a personality more than a singer, for a while there was great demand for new Annette singles and albums.

You probably know that briefly Paul and Annette were an item, and they sang songs to each other, which dribbled onto the charts for a while. Annette's hit was "Tall Paul" and Anka warbled "Puppy Love" her way. Her second album, released on Disney's Buena Vista label in 1960, was titled "Annette Sings Anka."

Two years later, and Paul learned that quiz show host Johnny Carson, was taking over "The Tonight Show," and wanted a new theme song. Paul checked his catalog for something handy, and sent Johnny his instrumental, "Toot Sweet."

Anka (writing on page 153 of his new book) has oddly forgotten this fact; that the song he handed Johnny was over two years old. He writes: "I thought of Johnny Carson when I was writing the Tonight Show theme. I thought cool, late night, big band, and the rest was easy…" No, he didn't write that theme for Johnny! But embellishing his brilliance as a writer is nothing new for Anka. He's often said that "My Way" was another mystic, magical creation, and all he had to do was channel Frank's personality. He told Tavis Smiley only last week that he knocked out "My Way" in one night, inspired by learning that Frank was going to retire after one more album. Anka, determined to be on that album, sat up all night to hatch the hit. OK. Paul didn't add that the music to "My Way" was not his at all. The shrewd Mr. Anka was buying up music for his company, and that happened to include a French-language pop hit of the day.

Johnny, an avid drummer and big band fan, liked Anka's instrumental (apparently he never heard Annette's song at all) but thought the arrangement pop-dinky. It was more kiddie-daytime, and not a hip tune for late night. Johnny had the idea to kickstart the theme with a sharp little drum solo, and swing the tempo. Anka didn't mind, and even offered Johnny a co-write. This was done, Anka admitted (to Tavis Smiley) to ice Skitch Henderson out of the picture. Skitch was Johnny's band leader back then, and was angling to get involved in the theme song. But Johnny getting the co-write credit sealed the deal. It meant Anka-Carson would split the approximately $200 royalty given for EACH NIGHT'S PERFORMANCE of the song. Johnny was aware of original "Tonight Show" host Steve Allen's bonanza in having written his own theme song, "This Could Be The Start of Something Big." Carson wasn't such a superstar back then that he couldn't use an extra $500 a week in theme song royalties. Who knew if he'd last even a year or two in trying to replace a legend like Paar? And who expected any host to last more than a few years grinding out shows night after night? Steve Allen and Jack Paar had both felt the strain fairly quickly.

As it turned out, for over 30 years, fans loved that opening minute of "The Tonight Show," and Johnny and Paul had to love the big royalty checks that ended up being worth millions. The big bucks Johnny got would later influence many, including Red Skelton, Jackie Gleason, Joan Rivers and Craig Ferguson, to hum, co-write or completely write their TV theme song. Below, the original "Toot Sweet," Annette's version with lyrics, and the swingin' "Tonight Show" theme with the famous opening drum solo.

Zip File of Three Songs ANKA'S TOOT SWEET, IT'S REALLY LOVE, TONIGHT SHOW THEME

RITA MACNEIL -- AND THE GOOD HOSPITALS KILL YOU

Australia loved this Canadian star: in 1990 she had three different albums in the charts there at the same time. Apparently no other female singer has ever done that down there, not even Olivia Newton-John. That same year, her song "Working Man" was a Top 20 hit in the U.K.

Rita MacNeil (May 28, 1944 – April 16, 2013) was a legend in her own country, for both traditional folk songs and for her brand of country. She was planning a series of summer concerts at her home base, "The Tea Room" in Big Pond, but died following a surgical operation involving some kind of seemingly minor infection. I can only quote the late Brother Theodore, who observed, "The bad hospitals let you die, and the good hospitals kill you."

Which isn't to say that Rita was killed, but it should serve as a warning that one must be in very good health to withstand an operation! My grandfather didn't survive what I suppose was a routine gall bladder operation, but he, like Ms. MacNeil, was overweight and nearly 70.

Rita's first album arrived in 1975, but it wasn't until 1987 that she went Platinum in Canada with "Flying On Your Own," her breakout hit. That song was quickly covered by the photogenic Anne Murray. Rita's next seven albums were Platinum as well in the frozen North, and she could still hit Gold once in a while later in her career: "Porch Songs" in 1995 (which featured her last Top 20 single, "Rolling Thunder), and "Mining the Soul" in 2000. She continued to release new albums including "Pocket Full of Dreams" in 2008 and "Saving Grace" just last year.

Rita's death set flags to half-mast in Cape Breton and other areas of Nova Scotia, because she was in touch with the average "Working Man," and that included the mines. Nova Scotia was, after all, the scene of one of the most notorious mining disasters of all time, memorialized in Peggy Seeger's "Ballad of Springhill." MacNeil also bonded with those who appreciated a great voice, and great personality, and the fact that she looked like a neighbor or a friend, and not Anne Murray. She didn't act like a star. She was humble and still could could get nervous before a show. A few years ago she remarked, "When I'm out onstage…it's still intimidating…as corny as that sounds, on the eve of my 60th birthday it hasn't changed and I don't suspect it ever will."

Anne Murray, on hearing the news, said: "“I am deeply saddened by the loss of a dear sweet woman and a gifted singer-songwriter who represented women and her beloved Nova Scotia so eloquently in her songs."

Farewell to Rita... Farewell to Nova Scotia

WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? HER! HER!

Heckfire, Uncle Jed, who wouldn't want to have SEVEN pit bulls!

Shazam! SEVEN pit bulls killing a two year-old that crawled into the backyard? Well, that's life.

GAH-LEE, Sergeant, ever' one o' them dawgs is needed, because somebody might hop the fence and steal some flat tires, or the rusty barbecue grill, or the kinda moldy pile of hangman's rope that hasn't been used since (Lester) Maddox in the days of old.

If there's anything more American (more Southern-American in fact) than owning big loud automatic weapons of death it's owning big loud vicious killer dogs! Yeah, maybe a two-year old gets mauled and killed once in a while. Plenty more ready to come out of the baby-makin' place, ya know, and if ya start young enough, ya'll gonna end up with more kids than dogs fah sure!

WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? 18 year-old, Summer Laminack, that's who.

It happened in little ole Ellabell, Georgia, where, proudly, "four generations of the same family shared the home including...two uncles who are still young boys."

Summer, who will surely go on to star in an episode of "Jerry Springer" or "Maury Povich," is being defended as only 18, and not really neglectful or anythin' like that. It was just "a tragic accident." Like dropping the bottle of Jack Daniels in the parking lot because you were walking and chewing tobacco at the same time.

It would be downright un-patriotic to send this little lady to jail, or school, or anyplace besides Home Sweet Home, where there's always the sound of insane barking and howling like a rebel yell, which gives everyone a feeling of security. Listen, no matter how poor, white trash and stoopid ya might be, if ya own yo'self a set of dawgs, yo, then ya are sumpin'. Hope nobody takes 'em away. Bet their names are Big Dan, Little Dan, Dan-Bobby, Dan-Billy, Dan-Blasted, Dan-Dang and Dan-Cracker.

Rest easy, Friends. This Summer, Summer will still be home, as free as, oh, Casey Anthony. She'll be drinkin' some Red Bull and Mountain Dew, and pickin' her next Baby Papa out of six or seven neighborhood uncles or cousins. Come on, look at the mug shot. She looks right sorry the whole thing happened, don't she? IF by some mizzable mizzcarriage a' Southern justice, they keep houndin' this little lady for being a good American and owning seven pit bulls, why, we'll just have to go over to SHIT KICKER-STARTER, and start fussin' feudin' and puttin' out the word: SEND LAWYERS, GUNS AND WELFARE MONEY! The dog shit has hit the fan!

Who Let the Dogs Out? Summer Laminack. Hey Maury, introduce her to the Baha Men, and get the paternity tests ready!

MADMEN? FLAGPOLE SINGERS for BRASSIERE ADS & LIFE ON TRANQUILIZERS

Everyone seems thrilled that there's a new season of "Mad Men," a trendy "retro" show about the advertising world several generations ago. Oooh, what will happen to Don Draper this season! Who doesn't give a damn about Jon Hamm? Maybe a few of you who stop here now and then to check out obscure artists like..."The Flagpole Singers," who put out a concept album about the ad world, nearly 50 years ago!

Yeah, there's always been a fascination with the big bucks, highly creative, ultra-cynical world of advertising, probably since the late 50's when TV ad revenue paved Madison Avenue gold. The TV ad boom was unprecedented, and ad agencies were where bright college grads wanted to be. Even now, most having a choice of writing for TV or writing TV ads, will choose the latter. Ad agencies changed the way people thought and how they bought and what they bought. And they still do, as so many people buy insurance or invest in a product just because of an animated gekko or a quacking duck. They sure buy terrible brands of beer only because of ad campaign propaganda.

The black vinyl mirror exposed all this. In the late 50's band leader Lester Lanin put out an entire album of "dance" versions of TV and radio jingles (radio holding on via teen-pop music on the transistor radio). Louis Nye offered a spoken word album about the advertising game. Julius Monk's reviews consistently lampooned Madison Avenue (including a memorable sketch on hawking cigarettes, written by a pre-Jose Jimenez Bill Dana). There was Stan Freberg of course, while Homer & Jethro and Spike Jones both came up with lampoons based on the toothpaste catch-phrase "Look Ma, No Cavities." And…coming in a bit too late (although TV's Darren Stephens of "Bewitched" was an ad man and many shows based on his attempts to come up with new campaigns for his creepy clients), The Flagpole Singers offered a concept album about Mad Men and their products, recorded in February of 1964.

The idea was to skewer Madison Avenue via folk songs (since Allan Sherman's "My Son the Folk Singer" had done so well). Mad magazine-type comedy writers Norman Blagman and Sam Bobrick auditioned to find three singers (which did include folkie veteran Martin Ambrose), and knocked out songs about the grey-flannel suit guys with their button-down shirts. Nevermind that Bob Peck (a Tom Lehrer-wanna be) had already put out a comedy album with "Grey Flannel" in the title, and Newhart had a lock on being the "button-down mind."

The Flagpole SIngers sang about Mad Men taking tranquilizers, and how easy it is to make people pay attention to a bra ad…and really, if you like those two songs, go help out some struggling record seller and add the entire album to your collection. I just didn't want to be an even worse drone than an ad agency employee and have to digitize the rest and tweak the sound and upload it all (especially since I don' have Bromo Seltzer, Brioschi, or Bufferin around here…just to name three products drilled into my head by commercials to the point where I'd never buy them, just for spite.) You see some vintage bra and tranquilizer ads on this page…and seductive and eye-catching they are, insidiously enough. Much more than the songs about bra selling and taking tranquilizers you'll find below.

The cover of the album seems to reference both print and TV advertising…an ad campaign that always featured people carrying around their "nest egg" for savings, a model who wore an eye patch and hawked a band of shirt, and the guy in the business suit who seemed to fly, attache case and all, down into his favorite rental car as soon as he arrived at the airport.

Oh, those were the days…when Madison Avenue realized its power, gave six-figure salaries to its top brain-benders, and could have an entire nation happily singing along to "Eat too much, drink too much, take…" or "When the prices go up, up, up…" It was also a time when record companies didn't flinch about tossing novelty albums into the stores, even by unknowns. After all, eager buyers could browse the racks…and were desperate for audio entertainment because their favorite TV shows were…full of commercials. For the Flagpole Singers, local New York radio personailty Gene Klavan (without his partner Finch) offered album notes which included….

"It is obvious that these guys are trying to destroy the advertising industry. Here are twelve delightfully conceived, remarkably arranged, beautifully executed kicks…."

Two Songs Together in One Mp3 File: Best Brassiere Ads and Tranquilizers

CHEVALIER ALBUM OF GIRL-NAME SONGS - BUT THAT AIN'T HIM!

Last month the blog posted about the Marx Brothers trying to get past customs officials via bogus Maurice Chevalier impersonations. Know what? Even the French singer's record label pulled a "fake Chevalier" routine!

When the 30's romantic singer had a comeback in the 50's thanks in part to the movie "Gigi," MGM decided to re-package some Chevalier songs for a "new" album. The idea was to cull all the songs with females in the title ("Cecilia," "Margie," "Dinah,") and play on the "Gigi" hit song "Thank Heaven for Little Girls." Let's just show Maurice with grown up girls! But…

"Do we really need to pay Maurice to pose for a re-issue album cover photo?" PAY Chevalier, ehh? Nah!

Take a look at the album cover. The guy might as well have hidden his face behind a passport! If there weren't already enough Internet hoaxes, this blog would be claiming that the model was actually Zeppo Marx. Not even Snopes could undo the damage!

The album cover is really more entertaining than the music. Maurice Chevalier was a charming fellow, and he and his outrageous French accent can still be amusing for a song or two. Just how many of these songs with women's names you'll want to hear…well…you'll judge for yourself as you slowly turn as stiff as a washboard. Or pasteboard. Or skateboard.

Chevalier's THANK HEAVEN FOR GIRLS GIRL GIRLS album He sings songs with GIRL names: Margie, Cecilia, Dinah etc. etc.

THE WORKER - Fischer-Z For the late PETER WORKMAN

There's been a spate of famous people deaths lately, most not needing an extra mention on this blog of less renown. Among the diverse dead: Margaret Thatcher, Annette Funicello, Carl "The Truth" Williams, Roger Ebert, and cult film directors Bigas Luna and Jess Franco.

Peter Workman died on April 7th, at the age of 74. You never heard of him, but you probably bought some of his books, especially if you wanted to give a somewhat quirky gift to someone, like "Banana Grams" or "Origami on the Go" or "Cake Doctor." Workman Publishing specialized in "novelty" titles and had the good sense and marketing skills to turn B. Kliban, a quirky Playboy cartoonist, into a best-selling author via a book of whimsical and weird tabby cat drawings. Wisely, Workman did indeed market t-shirts…as well as sheets, mugs, desk calendars and even shower curtains based on Kliban's cartoons. But the merch was driven by a book first, and that's changing now.

Workman, married to the same woman for 50 years, a charitable man who worked with Human Rights Watch, the ACLU and the Anti-Defamation League, may have died at the right time -- if a man's worth is tied to his accomplishments in his work. Because his work empire has peaked. The book world is going the way of the music biz. Bookstores are dying the way record shops did, and there's a cheapening of the product and a contempt for anyone trying to make a living at it. Ebooks will empty book shelves the way mp3's cleared out cabinets of CDs, and with less to manufacture or ship, more people will be out of work.

Scott Turow, the lawyer and best-selling author, recently wrote about "The Slow Death" of authors (and publishing) in a New York Times editorial. He underlined the "horrifying" problems and "menace" of Google, Amazon, piracy and the anti-copyright "crisis" caused by greed, self-entitlement and ignorance.

Turow ended with a report on what's happening in Russia: "I visited Moscow and met with a group of authors who described the sad fate of writing as a livelihood in Russia. There is only a handful of publishers left, while e-publishing is savaged by instantaneous piracy that goes almost completely unpoliced. As a result, in the country of Tolstoy and Chekhov, few Russians, let alone Westerners, can name a contemporary Russian author whose work regularly affects the national conversation." Don't get me started on how Putin and Russia are crippling the USA and UK by being SO nice to pirates and SUCH defebders of "Internet Freedom" by giving away ebooks, avi files and mp3s via torrents, forums and blogs. Putin offers a safe-haven for criminals operating in Croatia and any place where copyright and human rights can be violated, and what's going on is just as sick as the Mexican cartels that murder women and children and intimidate politicians and law enforcement so that idiots in America can get high. The Capitalist system which IS about free enterprise within copyright and respect for workers, is being destroyed by cartels who give access to illegal merchandise and are perceived as being so fucking cool. (End of rant).

For Workman Publishing to survive at all, they'll have to be more of a toy and game company, selling more 365-jokes-a-day calendars, and hope a new quirky cartoonist can parlay books into merch. But where will this stuff sell? Barnes & Noble, even by changing their bookstores into Starbucks-selling cafes, and offering their Nook, has shut down branches…frantic in trying to compete with Amazon and their Kindle.

I remember sending Peter Workman a book proposal, and to get his attention, including a photo of my cat (a tabby similar but not as fat as a Kliban cat) on a Kliban cat pillow case. I never did get a book published by Workman, but he sent a nice personal rejection letter.

To justify saying anything at all about Peter Workman on this music blog, there has to be an obligatory music download, and it's…"The Worker." I choose it to honor the Workman name, his indie publishing empire, and workers who read as they ride into town for a day at the office.

Lyrics: "…he hated journey on the train. Always been the same. Looking out windows. Second class and second best What a waste of time…The worker, the worker The worker, the worker. Always kiss the wife goodbye .Often wonder why. At seven in the morning…What a waste of time…" It's by short-lived but well-loved Fischer-Z, which was a quirky group that had a lead vocalist (John Watts) who seemed intent on singing in the highest, most hapless voice possible. A psych major, he infused his particular brand of pop-psych with a madness-dash of reggae as you can hear on this, the band's 1979 hit.

PETER WORKMAN THE WORKER

VINCENT PRICE : THE EASTER BUNNY ALWAYS SLEEPS

Today is Good Friday, and on Sunday, it's Easter.

Religulous as these days are…Jesus Christ…it's just too easy to make fun of it all. "Easter," with the bonnets, and the chocolate bunnies, and the colored eggs…it's already a joke. What has any of this to do with the supposed death and resurrection of somebody that a billion or more people think is the "Son of God?"It makes as much sense as Santa Claus and "Christmas."

We're dealing with revisionist crap. That's what all religion is. It's hearsay. People literally get bent out of shape, go around killing other people, make their lives miserable as well…all because of some shit that was written hundreds and hundreds of years after the supposed "sacred" events took place.

The more ridiculous the religion, the more humorless and vicious the followers are…because they are so fragile, so insecure, and so stupid, they can't just accept the fact that not everyone believes what they do. Some religious fanatics are so humorless, they will kill you over cartoons depicting their "savior," whom they insist was (is?) a deity of peace and good will. Nyuk nyuk. Why the fuck shouldn't people make fun of religion? It's hilarious. It's full of inane rituals, stupid-looking clothing, mumbo-jumbo prayers, and all kinds of psychotic taboos (which are mostly broken by the pious assholes who profess to follow them).

Enjoy the download, which is from the soundtrack to "Here Comes Peter Cottontail," and contains a few amusing remarks on the Easter bunny courtesy of the lovable horror star Vincent Price who was born in Saint Louis, religulously enough.

I've met Bill Maher, and I've watched him morph from the mainstream witty stand-up that Steve Allen admired, to one of the best political and religious satirists around. His recent "Real Time" editorial on the election of the new Pope included a few choice paragraphs on the revisionist nature of religious fanatics. He laughs at those who foolishly believe in "rules" that were not even in The Bible (second-hand source that it is) but tacked on later by a variety of laughable loons who somehow got others to go along with their nunsense. Here's some of what Bill said:

You know, people think all the church's rules and traditions come right from Jesus.  But almost none of them do…For example, New Rule: confession.  Jesus never said anything about confession.  Never even thought of it.  They pulled that out of their ass in the 12th century.  Just like they did with, New Rule: women can't be priests.  That's also not in the Bible.  Neither is celibacy for priests.  We didn't have that until the 4th century.  And even then, priests could still get married.  They just couldn't have sex — like regular marriage.

Jesus also never said anything about a Pope, let alone that he should live in a palace and get carried around in a chair like Liz Taylor in Cleopatra.  Or papal infallibility, another rectum-derived edict that came in the year 1870.  It's an eternal truth that's 11 years younger than the escalator….

Or how about this whopper?  New Rule: not only does God have a Son — who's really Him — but there's also a "Holy Ghost" in there, and they're all one person called the Trinity.  A Catholic monk named Tertullian made up the Holy Ghost in the 3rd century.  And after that, "It is true."

I tell ya, religion?  It's like Wikipedia.  Anyone can write something in.

VINCENT PRICE The Easter Bunny Always Sleeps

VASSAR GRATEFUL DEAD, PENN STATE MARCHING BAND BEATLES

College! One can look back on the experience quite fondly…the sex, the drugs, and actually learning a few things that helped jump-start a career. But sometimes, a belief that a college campus is a place of "higher education" can be shattered by irresponsible behavior and doing things that are downright brainless.

Like…being part of a marching band.

Like…being part of an a cappella ensemble

As this is a music blog, we confine ourselves to these two types of activities, which involve people who should be confined in strait jackets.

Two CDs that will always be part of my collection are: "Roses for the Lions" from the Penn State Blue Band, and "Cause It's Time" by the Vassar Devils. And yes, that hellish name is very accurate.

Below, you get a HALF DOZEN examples of the Vassar Devils sticking their pitchfork tongues into deservedly wretched pop-rock songs.

"Africa" by Toto. The soggy whitebread pop group's wimpy and limp ode to a country that hates their music, had gratuitous homogenized harmonies now bettered, buttered and battered by the Vassar Devils. They scat and doo-wop "Africa" to a level that could cause race riots.

"Carey" by Joni Mitchell. Another Africa-themed number, for reasons unknown, whiter-shade-of-vanilla Joni sets the tale somewhere near Africa winds, or Butterfly McQueen farts. There's a calliope of doo-doo's in the background as a plucky soloist named Biz (wasn't there a detergent by this name?) does her best to mimic the precociousness of her Canadian heroine.

"Signed, Sealed and Delivered" by Stevie Wonder. Blind people do not know the difference between black and white. But they can HEAR the difference. The Persuasions, this ain't. Sometimes you also have to wonder what the fuck the point is of NOT singing with backing instruments. A bunch of assholes going "doo oooh oooh" is fatefully farty.

"Killer Queen" by Queen. Well, ok, anything goes when you're covering the fruitiest rock band in history, even a cappella. Just wait till you hear the Vassar Devils do some kind of cat noises along with their usually poopy doops.

"Changes" by David Bowie. By this time, I was waiting to hear "ch-ch-ch" instead of "doo-doo-doo," but the Vassar Devils, like most a cappella groups, are really into deep doo-doo. While lead vocalist "Jon" does ch-ch-cheese it up, there's still way too much doo!

"Uncle John's Band" by The Grateful Dead. Say, didn't those dead-heads actually have an a capella moment in the original? Trust the Vassar Devils to add plenty of doo-doo to this happy shitkicker tune.

Also below, in addition to the zip-file of six songs from the Vassar Devils, is the most vivid example of marching band mania from "Roses for the Lions."

Who doesn't love a marching band? Spectators.

But let's not be so pessimistic. It's possible that half the marchers in the band don't love what they're doing either. Some have no choice if they're music majors, others…well, any joy in being in the midst of all that blazing brass and percussion soon palls due to rehearsals, lousy weather, embarrassing uniforms, having to carry around an instrument and choreograph at the same time…and most of the musical choices you get are cheese.

If they aren't cheese, they become cheese as they whiz through your horn. That most certainly includes a medley of Beatles songs…"Magical Mystery Tour…Got To Get You Into My Life…Hard Day's Night."

"Roses for the Lions" is a souvenir CD from the PENN STATE BLUE BAND, from live recordings made at the Eisenhower Auditorium between 1992 and 1994. At least they didn't have to march around when they were recording…although that misses a great opportunity for "living stereo" and having the thrill of tubas, trumpets and trombones circling around inside your head.

Take five, guys. And take a shower…it's ok, Sandusky's gone.

VASSAR DEVILS! SIX A CAPPELLA ROCK COVERS including Joni Mitchell, Stevie Wonder and The Grateful Dead

PENN STATE MARCH TO A BEATLES MEDLEY!