Sunday, February 19, 2012


Today, any idiot can be on YouTube and go nowhere. Any idiot can soil eMusic with a crappy album cobbled together with ProTools. And they end up in the the digital limbo they deserve…mere useless blips that most people don't even download for free. Why should anyone care when no care was taken in the recording? Knock something off for nothing and that's what it's worth.

Back in the vinyl era…you had to put your money where your microphone was. You hired the studio. You paid the musicians. You made sure what you did was worth investing in. You walked through the Brill Building with your demo. You sat in a manager's office or a producer's outer office, or stood in the sidewalk trying to sell your package to a stranger. (Uh, I think the latter was mostly on 42nd Street, several blocks from the Brill Building.)

With some luck your single got pressed and sent to radio stations. Even if you could only get interest from an indie label, there was a chance your tune could become a disc jockey favorite and the latest hit. Even if it didn't go anywhere, at least you made a real vinyl single! A piece of history! And if nothing happened, it was a family heirloom, maybe even a collectors item for some vinyl freak who's gotta have everything and thinks his hearse has a luggage rack.

I didn't know Mickey Press. I have no idea what his real name is. All I know is my father knew him, was given the indie single, and it was given to me. I've had this record for a long, long, long time. I remember also having a card with a photo of Mickey, declaring me an honorary member of the Mickey Press Fan Club. The record did get a review in Billboard, and probably some slight airplay. And it's a good bit of fake-Elvis. Meaning, Mickey Press turned in a performance well above "Conrad Birdie."

Whoever Mickey got to give that razzy-wow sax intro…and whoever charted the song…they gave him all they had, and the guy sang it with confidence. The lyrics are right down the pike, in keeping with the times, when swaggering rock n' rollers were winking about being poor little fools, and not quite towers of strength, and not always gettin' the girl they wanted even though they were so greasy and handsome and charismatic.

And so for the sixth anniversary of the blog of less renown, here's something that ain't been on the Net before, and is not on any of those "lost jukebox" compilations either.

My father died two months ago. Distinctly I remember. It was in the bleak December. He's now shelved in a very cold rectangle of cement in a mausoleum. With no records. No turntable. None of his possessions except the clothes he has on. Which I picked out to match the color of the casket. And this single he gave me....

Well...."Greatest Lover Of Them All," submitted for your approval, can be filed in the mausoleum of your external drive, under the great general category: "bid for immortality."

THE GREATEST LOVER OF THEM ALL by Mickey Press. A gift from my father. Instant download or listen on line. No capcha codes, wait time, or whines about paying for a premium account.


Anonymous said...

Your dad sounds like a marvelous man. Thank you both for this zippy tune.


This post is amazing to me and my sisters, because Mickey Press is my father, and he passed away last week. This tune and the flip side, Speak to me, which you can check out on You tube, were pieces of our family history, and your words brought a piece of our father back to us, and that is fantastic! Thanks so much!!!

Ill Folks said...

Thanks, Randi. Hello Isabella and RaRa and everyone.

Sometimes when I wonder why I'm doing this blog...the answer comes in a comment such as yours.

Thanks for your blog, and sharing the love and those lovely pictures!

BRUCE said...