ILL-USTRATED SONGS #45 CURLY CHALKER! (Can't Buy Me Love)

    In the world of country music, a guy named “Curly” was more likely to actually have curly, wavy hair than be bald. That was the deal for “Curly” Putman, songwriter of “Green Green Grass of Home,” and of steel guitar session man Harold Chalker (October 22, 1931 – April 30, 1998).

    Both guys had trouble getting record deals; they were better known for what they could do behind the scenes. There were so many singers around, Curly Putman’s fine but not too distinctive stylings failed to find an audience. As for Chalker, was there really a big market for entire pedal steel albums? Evidently not.  Two or three albums on either would take a long time to find, especially now that so few record stores are left standing. 

    In the 50’s and 60’s, Chalker played in a number of bands, and had a steady gig in Las Vegas with Hank Penny’s group. For a while, he had a reputation for being erratic. Hank Thompson famously recalled that Curly would sometimes miss a note, and give out with a shout of ‘SHIT!” Hank said that Curly might “bear down and play the best you ever saw” for an important gig, but on some routine night on the road, “hell, every other song he’d mess it up.” 

        Curly moved to Nashville for lucrative session work (back when recording studios were prospering and there was no such thing as Pro Tools).  His first solo album was “Big Hits on Big Steel” for Columbia in 1966. It wasn’t a big hit, but he remained in high demand for a variety of artists from rockabilly types (Bill Haley), to country stars (Ray Price, Willie Nelson) to even mainstream performers (he’s on “The Boxer” by Paul Simon). He was in the band that backed all the performers on “Hee Haw,” a show that ran on network TV and in syndication for 18 years. 

    Curly did do a pedal steel cover of Paul Simon’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” but let’s go with something mainstream but a little more upbeat for your download sample: CAN'T BUY ME LOVE - no stupid egocentric PASSWORDS, no obnoxious demand for Paypal donations, instant download or listen online from a non-Putin company

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #45 - BEWITCHED with lyrics via PEGGY LEE

A salute to Peggy Lee, born Norma Egstrom on May 26, 1920. (She swooped the planet on January 21, 2002). 

Also being saluted, Elizabeth Montgomery, who died of colorectal cancer on May 18th, 1995. It's possible that if she'd had a colonoscopy or other check-up, her problem could have been caught and corrected, and she'd still be with us. She was born April 15, 1933.

Many vintage TV themes had lyrics so that idiots could instantly figure out what the show was about.  The "premise" TV theme was used to explain the Clampetts becoming "The Beverly Hillbillies," Mr. and Mrs. Douglas moving to "Green Acres," and how the castaways got to "Gilligan's Island." The "introductory" TV theme simply explained "Bat Masterson," "Wyatt Earp," "Maverick" and "Paladin." Some shows didn't require much in the way of lyrics. One theme song merely had a sexy gal saying..."It's Burke's Law." 

Fans have discovered that there ARE lyrics to some TV shows with well known instrumental themes, including "Bonanza," "Hawaii 5-0," and yes..."Bewitched." But you'll find out about the latter with just a finger twitch...

Twitch and hear BEWITCHED...online or via download. No greedhead Paypal donation request, no egocentric Password, no buy-a-premium-account weasel shit from Rapidgator  

Ill-ustrated Songs #39 "COME IN MY MOUTH" Tobie Columbus

    “Hey, my teacher used to sing about wanting a guy to come in her mouth!” 

    Yeah. Listen: “Run your fingers through my hair as you force my mouth to open mind. Don’t you just love it there? As I drink you deep inside…you taste so good, you taste so good, you taste so good, you taste so good…”

    How about the spoken part of the song? “I wanna lick, I wanna suck…I wanna make you scream, I wanna make you the happiest man alive. I want you deep in my throat. I want to smell your sweat. I want to lap up your load…” 

    Happily for Tobie Columbus, embarrassingly ridiculous late 60’s and early 70’s porn songs are considered just that. In fact, if you even made porn films, you could enjoy a “straight” career making movies or retire to run an antique shop or something and not be chased out of town.  We’ve COME a long way. 

    COME to think of it, these days, it’s hardly a surprise if a teacher has had a student come in her mouth. As long as the come is vintage, 18 years or older, that’s fine. College professors doing it with their students is just fine. Ladies teaching high school, and finding an 18 year-old guy to get a mouthful with…that’s just delicious. While dirty MALE teachers will run into serious trouble if they come into jailbait, FEMALE teachers tend to get a slap on their masturbating wrist if they help a student through puberty. 

    But I digress. Back in 1974, a fairly ridiculous Off-Broadway show turned up called “Let My People Come.” Theater goers and comers had seen “Hair” of course, and “Oh Calcutta,” but how about something joyously and unabashedly dirty? Sort of? The musical wasn’t exactly hardcore. The lyrics for “Come in My Mouth” are at about the same level of dribble-drivel as purple prose romance books of the day. Some lines are probably as corny as what pudgy E.L. James used to drain the color of any porn connoisseur’s face to a shade of gray. 

            There was a lot of now-silly “porn” songs back then. Some were artfully pretentious, like “Je ‘Taime,” and others were ludicrous like “The Theme from Deep Throat” by Linda and the Lollipops. In between, there was the frank stuff from Frank Zappa, and the childish stuff like “Shaving Cream,” which came out of obscurity when a disc jockey was dared to play it. This thing? Pure 70’s, with the corny synths and bubbly over-done sound effects. Jeez, most hippie chicks practicing free love either had two or three kids by 1974, or were charging for sex and making movies for Jerry Damiano.

    Above is an information sheet that Tobie filled out way back when. As you see, “Let My People Come” was her first big credit. And, last. I think you’ll agree, once you hear this thing, that singing a convincing erotic song was not her specialty. When your singing is barely at the level of Andrea True, you’d better try something else. She moved on to dancing, and dance instruction.

    Fortunately for Tobie, “Let My People Come” wasn’t such a hit that her unusual name became all that well known. Besides, singing a porn song in a legit off-Broadway show is much different than actually being in porn. So she, and the members of "Oh Calcutta" and similar efforts, just dispersed, like crowds witnessing a car wreck. She moved to California, had a kid, and she taught for years and years at a school in Tujunga, California. The L.A. Times even mentioned her in a 2006 article, with no allusion to her previous come-uppance. They just noted that she and the other teachers did a great job of helping the kiddies learn their moves. Dance moves, that is:

    “At the after-school dance class Thursday, dance instructor Tobie Columbus demonstrated the basic steps for swing. "Step, touch, step, touch," she called out. Boy-girl pairs avoided eye contact as they formed two lines that stretched most of the length of the bare-floored auditorium. The students mimicked Columbus' steps, many with hands in their pockets and arms crossed. Several boys paired off with each other, too embarrassed by the formal dance style to approach girls. Later, they learned the foxtrot to "Bossy," a hip-hop song by Kelis. "You can't ask the kids to do an old dance to old music," Columbus said. "These dances can be as contemporary as when they were first created." Columbus…will make the dance classes a regular school activity. Starting in February, a group of 12 to 15 students will study social dance twice a week at no cost to them or the school.”

           I once talked with Tom Lehrer, who left behind his "sick comedy" song career to be a full-time math professor. "Do your students come up to you with copies of your old albums to sign?" Tom said that most of the kids had no idea he made records, and hardly knew about any of Lehrer's contemporaries, including Mort Sahl and Lenny Bruce. Tom said, "Some of them are impressed when they find out I wrote a few songs for Seseme Street. Like: "Wow, you wrote SILENT Y???"

           So it's doubtful that any of Tobie's students ever came up to her and asked her to autograph "Come in My Mouth" on the back of the "Let My People Come" album. If somebody did, do you suppose it would make her scream? It would make her the happiest woman in the world? Mmmm, oooooh, uhhhhhhhh. No.

COME IN MY MOUTH    Instant download or listen on line. No Zinfart passwords, malware or spyware anywhere.

Ill-Ustrated Songs #37 - Pearl Bailey - TOWER OF STRENGTH

Was Pearl Bailey a "Tower of Strength?"

She was, as they say, a force to be reckoned with, "tall, buxom, exuberant and handsome." That's the New York Times description. Plus this: "Her voice had a distinctively warm timbre and her natural vocal inflection was filled with fascinating colors and highlights."

Of black and Creek Indian ancestry, we belatedly honor her birthday, March 29, 1918. She was married to white jazz drummer Louis Bellson (aka Luigi Balassoni) for 38 years. He fan base included jazz buffs, sophisticates, Broadway gays (she was in the pioneering all-Black production of "Hello Dolly") and Presidents, including Nixon and Johnson. In the 50's, she was known for her risque humor in nightclubs; her song introductions were sometimes bawdy, and "Pearlie Mae" was also known to song a provocative tune, too. "I call myself a humorist. I tell stories to music and, thank God, in tune. I laugh at people who call me an actress."

"Tower of Strength" is usually sung by male singers, with abject humiliation or angst-ridden despair. The original by Gene McDaniels had a trombone mocking his grief and pain. Paul Raven offered one of the more effeminate cover versions. At least, he sang it with full knowledge that he was a wimp who couldn't leave the bitch that was in control of his life. The song doesn't quite work so well as a female vocal, because Bacharach's melody is so upbeat and loaded with syncopated bumps. It's not one of those "I'm a Fool to Want You" jazz ballads. So Pearl just plays with the jazz aspect and doesn't really emote the lyrics. She cools things down.

And if you'd like to hear other versions...go right ahead down the line of downloads.

Pearl Bailey Tower of Strength Instant download or listen on line.

TOWER OF STRENGTH Gerd Bottcher- CAROLIN CAROLIN

TOWER OF STRENGTH Frankie Vaughan

TOWER OF STRENGTH - GENE MCDANIEL

TOWER OF STRENGTH - PAUL RAVEN

TOWER OF STRENGTH - PAUL RICH

TOWER OF STRENGTH - Sue Richards

TOWER OF STRENGTH cute recent Asian version by Yeongene

YOU DON"T HAVE TO BE A TOWER OF STRENGTH - GLORIA LYNNE

TOUTE MA VIE (Tower of Strength) Audrey Arno

TOWER OF STRENGTH -Lew Davis

TOWER OF STRENGTH - DO IT YOURSELF via KARAOKE VERSION!

Download or listen on line. No pop-ups, porn ads or use of sleazy companies that pay a percentage to bloggers for their "hard work." The hard work was done not by upping files, but by the original writers and performers.

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #32: Purple People Eater by BARRY CRYER

SAPRISTI!

He could've performed this under a pseudonym. Like Ben Worse.

But it couldn't have Ben Worse.

Below, landing with a thud, the space creature called "The Purple People Eater," as covered by Barry Cryer.

Obviously done very quickly to cash in on American vocalist Sheb Wooley's novelty original, Barry's cover misses a few notes by a mile...like Jamie Foxx doing "The National Anthem" last week at the Pacquiao-Mayweather fight.

There are a few interesting things about this oddity. First, it opens with sci-fi noises copped from the Mercury vault (and used on everything from "Martian Hop" to Boris Karloff's "Tales of the Frightened"). Second, they did take the time to throw in speeded up vocals for the Purple People Eater (some cover versions tried to get away with a kid's voice or just a weird voice). And last, and least, Cryer is clearly aping an American accent. Accent on the ape. Like I said, it could've Ben Worse.

Sheb Wooley (first name was Shelby) actually had another recording identity with a similarly awful pseudonym. Aside from his own novelty hits and C&W numbers, he recorded as Ben Colder. This was a gag name that came about when he recorded "Don't Go Near the Eskimos," a parody of Rex Allen's "Don't Go Near the Indians."

I hate people who grin and tell you to enjoy something because "it's so bad it's good." That's not the case with this thing! Rather, quoting a W.C. Fields line, "I won't say I like it, and I won't say I don't like it. Let me put it this way: I don't mind it." It's certainly an example of what quickie cover version recordings were like way back when...which is still a lot better than the shit that idiots throw on YouTube to try and (fail) to get a few hundred listeners.

BARRY CRYER A version of PURPLE PEOPLE EATER that could make you cry

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #31: FROZEN IN THE NIGHT

It seemed like Dan Hill was going to be a a huge, huge star when "Sometimes When We Touch" became the achy-breaky ballad of 1977. The music was co-written by the legendary Barry Mann. And yet, the follow-up album, 1978's "Frozen in the Night" went nowhere, and few except ardent fans are familiar with his late 80's albums. Known primarily in Canada now, he's 60 and rather suave-looking. He no longer resembles, well, a Cro-Magnon. It might have been pictures like THIS, that led romantic teenage girls to look elsewhere for a wall pin-up:

Oh well. Most everyone who took a photo in 1978 regrets it now! The title track is no "Sometimes When We Touch." Again, with musical help from Barry Mann, "Frozen in the Night" seems more like some creepy Harry Chapin cautionary tale. You remember Harry singing about depressing bar pick-ups, women who put cigarette burns in their skin, mail-order brides and such? Well, here's a grim tale about an older man picking up Little Slut Lost.

The purple prose describes a few details: "Her dress was as black as the night was hot. Her eyes so green they could kill you...her brown skin young but aging fast." Her name? "Call me anything you want makes no difference anyway." And once they get into bed…"You know what I'm after. I don't wanna hurt no one…" And sounding like a page from an overbaked romance writer's novel: "and the moon shone down so softly in mock defiance."

All of this is sung like Meatloaf after eating some bad meatloaf. The 1978 production values are no different than what you'd get on a pretentious Hall & Oates album. About the only cliche that was missed is that there's not an actual siren blaring during the "a siren screamed just a bit too late" line.

Like "Indiana Wants Me," this thing is a kind of perverse, guilty pleasure. We sure don't care too much about either of these losers.

While the rest of the album is just sorry, strangle-voiced mewling about sensitive love scenes, I guess most DJ's played the first track, were turned off, and didn't bother to search for another track that might be a hit. They just went back to flogging "Sometimes When We Touch" to death. It took a full decade before Hill scored another hit ("Can't We Try", a duet with Vonda Shepard). He still performs, and has written a book about his childhood. And his two protagonists remain "Frozen" on a slab of out of print vinyl.

Dirty Losers Get Hot and then Cool It Frozen in the Night

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #29 - SOUTHWEST F.O.B.

Wow, man. If this was 1968, you'd be staring at the above album cover a long time! Even now, it's so trippy and fascinating; four nude chicks in a plastic box on a strange planet or just (ooh) IN YOUR MIND. Back then these sci-femmes had record fans asking "where in the Southwest do we find them?" And does "F.O.B." mean "Fuck Our Bitches?"

As many an lp-cover-lover will bad-breathlessly howl at you, "There's something so COOL about naked chicks on a record album!" As opposed to a naked chick actually on a record collector…which rarely happens.

Back in the 60's, it wasn't that easy to find any chick's naked rack in a record store's racks. Even here, all we get is "side boob" which still can give you a side kick. Most of the full frontal titty pix were on "under the counter" lousy adult comedy albums from obscure guys such as Bub Thomas and Bert Henry. Weird, isn't it…guys could easily get entire magazines (Playboy, Rogue, Nugget, Dude, Gent, Knight, Cavalier, Cavalcade, etc.) for 50 cents or so, but would pay ten times that much to see ONE nudie on an album cover.

OK…it's time to at least make some sort of mention of the group and their semi-hit song. "Smell of Incense" was actually written by two guys (Bob Markley and Ron Morgan) who had come from the fartily-named band "The Laughing Wind" to form the ultra-pretentious "West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band," which, no surprise, somehow involved Van Dyke Parks for a while. Their version of their own song "did not chart," as muffin-eaters like to say, as if it justifies feeling smug about their own mediocrity and failures. What did chart, barely, just outside the Top 40, was the cover by the Dallas band called Southwest F.O.B.

That group included two guys who would go on to greater infamy: Dan Seals and John Colley. They later formed the duo England Dan and John Ford Coley, whose main achievement, let's not forget, is that they weren't Seals and Crofts. Yes, Coley got an L outta there, so people wouldn't pronounce his name like he was a breed of dog.

Via Hip Records, the Fobs ("Freight on Board" is the likely meaning of the initials), offered music very typical of the times. There's the Emenee-like toy keyboard, which was popularized by The Doors. Not exactly a rival to the keyboard on "Light My Fire," the organ riff here sounds more like a parrot knocking its beak against a few notes hoping to tap out the morse code for HELP. Or OVERDOSE

The meandering melody pauses for the chorus and its profoundly hymn-like harmony. It recalls "Spanky and Our Gang" and their pretentious demand: "Give a Damn." It all works, in an ooky-spooky icky-trippy kinda way. As for the lyrics, they reflect the naive era's notion that "enlightenment" is attainable by rollin' doobies. Just cover the smell with…incense. Oh, eat some peppermints afterward, and forget about time, which is only an illusion on a strawberry alarm clock affixed to a chocolate watchband.

As with so many late 60's (and early 70's) hippie dippy trippy songs, the lyrics stand alone about as well as anyone who's had some powerful weed:

"She stood as still as the shadows of stone. She stood on the edge of my mind. I tried to push her away. I shut and locked the door. Her eyes grew large and asking. AND THE SMELL OF INCENSE FILLS HER ROOM.

She stood in the ever present fullness of expectation. What happened to her childhood dreams? The sidewalk smothers us tomorrow."

What it needs is a real ending: "Do not tell me, I am source of your knock-up. The mud elephant wading through the sea leaves no tracks." Oh, sorry, that was The Fugs, who not only wrote better real "beat poetry," but knew how stupid most of it actually was. "Norwegian Wood" seems to have influenced a few lyricists into going into a triter shade of pale. But look, if you're really wasted on pot, you might think the sidewalk can smother you, you concretin. Your recipe for being a total asshole is easy enough; just add "mushrooms."

Download this, and if you actually were part of the late 60's or early 70's world of heavy lyrics and light-headed pot usage you'll find some nostalgia. If you weren't around back then, and are just some fucking goofus with a frog not prog face, who goes to thrift shops to buy what his parents' used to wear, and walks around saying "Oh wow" a lot, and were in the "It's Psych" forum…go find a hat with a human head underneath it, and consider a transplant.

The best thing about Southwest F.O.B. remains the cover, featuring a box of twats. I'd rather be in that box with 'em, smelling something that ain't incense.

SOUTHWEST FOB SMELL of incense

ILL-USTRATED Songs #25 "EBB TIDE" from Jerry Colonna

It's summer, and humans are at the beach, pulling clams, crabs and lobsters out of their hiding places and into scalding water or onto burning barbecue racks till their shells crack. Mmmm, seafood mama!

Seafood doesn't scream, so let's allow Jerry Colonna (September 17, 1904 – November 21, 1986) to do it for 'em.

A human caricature with pop eyes and a stereotypical Italian mustache, Colonna was a trombone player for various big bands. His strange look and class clown personality made him a stand-out at live gigs, and a natural for handling novelty vocals. He eventually worked with the eccentric orchestra leader and composer Raymond Scott. Jerry worked with a variety of bands and many of them got radio gigs backing the top comics of the day. Comedians always liked to play to the hipster musicians, and often single out a few to ad-lib with. David Letterman with Paul Shafer is the most obvious example now. Going backward, there was Johnny Carson and Doc Severinsen, Merv Griffin and Jack Sheldon, Jackie Gleason and Sammy Spear and Jack Benny with Phil Harris. Colonna caught the eye of most every radio comedian he worked with, from Fred Allen to Bob Hope, who elevated him to second banana.

Colonna was versatile enough to be able to borrow from a variety of other comics of the day. Joe E. Brown was the wide-mouthed comic known for stretching out a yell to comic proportions, and Colonna became another. "The Mad Russian" was a comic who came out with pop eyes and a glazed personality and after a few eccentric words in a strange accent, disappeared again. Colonna did that, too. Like many an inane comedian, such as Joe "Wanna Buy a Duck" Penner, Colonna found a catchphrase that made no sense but was loved by listeners: "Who's Yehudi?" Phil Harris' snappy "Hiya Jackson" to Jack Benny was bettered by Jerry's impudent "Greetings, Gate" to Bob Hope.

Most of all, "One Note" Colonna had the trademark routine of wrecking a song with his corny over-the-top dramatics...always done with a look of lunacy in his eye. "You're My Everything" was sure-fire, the first word of the song starting softly in the back of his throat, gaining speed and volume and becoming an ear-splitting siren. One might not want a whole album of this, or hear this every week, but Colonna's mixed bag of eccentric tricks kept him a welcome co-star with Bob Hope well into the 60's and 70's.

JERRY COLONNA soils the EBB TIDE

ILL-USTRATED Songs #24 "AT THE CODFISH BALL" Mae Questel

Continuing our sea-side luau, here's one of the few eccentric female vocalists who was working around the same time as Jerry Colonna. Mae Questel was mainly known for voicing cartoon characters in the 30's and 40's; both Betty Boop and Olive Oyl. While she didn't really make a dent on radio or in the movies, she did record many a novelty song (as did Helen Kane, the original boop-a-doop girl.) Some people love the Betty and Olive voices, others find them irritating and tiresome after more than a few minutes. So proceed with caution: "At the Codfish Ball" could make you break out in a rash.

Mae had an enduring career thanks to her vocal talents, coy though they might be. Once she aged into the spitting image of a yenta, and her pudgy face truly matched her naggy voice, she got some of her best paychecks. In 1964 she co-starred on Broadway in the musical "Bajour," playing the trying but lovable mother to Nancy Dussault (and the potential victim of a gypsy con game). A few years later, and she starred on the comedy album "Mrs. Portnoy's Retort," a risque attempt to cash in on Philip Roth's best selling novel of Judaism and jerking off. The album was quite a surprise for her fans and an odd choice for United Artists, a label that almost never issued comedy records (an exception being the two-disc deal they gave Jackie Vernon). Mae then invaded TV homes as "Aunt Bluebelle" in a series of paper towel commercials. As the funny-if-frightening "Jewish Mother in the Sky" her last hurrah was in Woody Allen's segment of "New York Stories" (1989).

"At the Codfish Ball" was a Shirley Temple hit, but covered by quite a few artists…none more precocious than Mae. Just why anyone would want to eat codfish balls is up for grabs, but just for the sake of novelty, here it is…and for the visual, you get to see the rare sight of a nine-tentacled octopus!

Mae Questel At the Codfish Ball

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

ILL-ustrated Songs # 21 : PUKIN' MY HEART OUT OVER YOU - The Funny Boners

The great unwashed love to watch Springsteen swapping spit with his doo-rag wearing Corporal Klinger-nosed little shower buddy Stevie. Brooose fans, almost all of them male, thrill to the homo-erotic way Brooose holds his guitar up in front of another guitar hero in his band in a "you show me yours, and I'll show you mine" pose. They roar as he snarls hungrily into his microphone, like he's going to start going down on it, while singing anthems about smelly highways in New Fucking Jersey. These dopey Snooki-slobs love Broose's tuuuunes because each ditty sounds so much alike that even cretins who can't memorize more than one song can sing along anyway. What was that great one about getting diarrhea from a Newark Applebees, or a Rahway Burger King? Oh, yeah, "Born to Run." So here's to Puke Springsteen! Is this Photoshop job that far from the truuuuth?

Some bogs and low-rents…uh, blogs and torrents… actually post every monotonous album by The Boss, (not to mention Kid Rock or Ted Nugent or Bon Jovi and other arena retards). Sick puppies lap it up like it was their own turds with some undigested crunchy bits to re-chew. They bark out happy squeaks of "Thanks, Dude," or actually, "Thanks, Doody," because they love this shit so much.

In this ill corner of the Net, let's say that one stupid novelty single can often be more memorable, and even more artistic, than an entire discography of some tedious Top Ten hit-maker. No wonder that one stupid novelty single might fetch $20 or $50 on eBay while nobody's buuuying Bruuuuse's old Columbia albums for a dollar. An entire discography of other arena rock retards or flavors-of-the-day (like Duran Duran) remains unsold for a fiver. Every thrift shop and boot sale has a crate of Phil Collins stuff nobody wants. But...how many times are you gonna come across The Funny Boners?

So here's The Funny Boners, doing "Pukin' My Heart Out Over You." Like quite a few other stupid novelties you could name ("Who Let the Dogs Out," "I'm Henry the Eighth I Am" or "Someone Like You" by Adele) it's catchy. Like a cold. And you might have trouble getting it out of your head for a while. As opposed to that discography of Status Quo, which you can't get out of your basement because the garbageman won't touch it.

Yeah, it's the flip-side over here. There are "Dedicated Followers of Fashion," and curmudgeons sneering, "I'm Not Like Everybody Else." Neither side is exactly right, but a single isn't wasting as much of your time.

And so we pluck a stupid obscure black 45 rpm disc from the dark shelf, let it glint on the turntable for a few minutes, send it hurtling to a cloud (with more than a "this did not chart" sentence for it and a photo of the label) and appreciate that somebody took some time to try something that just might keep people from being sullen for a while. Which is about all that can be said for the one-shot dickheads called The Funny Boners. After all, all they are doing here is a kind of low-class version of a Phil Harris drawl-narration. If they wrote something really awful, 50,000 people might've been holding up Zippo lighters in front of them, like they do for a millionaire posturing in a workshirt and jeans costume and singing about how times are tough (to people who pay $1500 to a scalper for front row seats to hear him). Sample boners about life with a trailer trash bitch:

"I bought you a vacuum cleaner so it makes me all the meaner when I see the pile of dirt upon the floor. And inside the bedroom closet is a sixteen ton deposit of that dirty smelly underwear you wore. So I'm pukin' my heart out over you…"

Can you believe it, it was over a year ago, February 19, 2011 that the previous "Ill-ustrated song" turned up ("From the Indies to the Andies in his Undies" featuring Mr. Bean). Hopefully there will be more nauseating illustrated songs coming up in the future…

This Download might come back up…. PUKIN' MY HEART OUT OVER YOU

Listen on line or download it. Download it without wait time, garish photos promoting bogus dating services, idiot anime to bring you to a spyware site, and no Paypal banner asking for donations, nor any button to swindle you into getting a 'premium account' so some fat-cat cynical businessman can stay rich while artists and real music lovers stay poor.

Ill-ustrated Songs #20: FROM THE INDIES TO THE ANDIES IN HIS UNDIES

It's taken a while, but finally, here's a sample of The Hoosier Hot Shots. They're a kind of lost link between Spike Jones and Homer & Jethro. They were not quite as tetched and eccentric as Jones (despite some fierce use of the slide whistle, washboard and car horn). Their tendency to go for hee-haws rather than laughs has also marked them "for corn lovers only," but a lot of their stuff is mighty fine mental moonshine. "I Like Bananas Because They Have No Bones" is a classic, but it's not as inspiring for a startling visual image as "From the Indies to the Andies In His Undies." I tried not to be TOO startling. (PS, "Andies" is how they chose to spell "Andes." You can see it for yourself if you buy Columbia's CD collection "Rural Rhythm") )

The song opens, as it so often does, with brother "Rudy" Trietsch giving a shout-out to brother "Hezzie" Trietsch. Are you ready? Can it still get a laugh? You should trietsch some time.

"He carried for a charm a kippered herring.
To protect him when the tropic sun was glaring.
Whoever met him thought he needed airing…"

From the INDIES to the ANDIES in his UNDIES

ILL-Ustrated Songs #19 : DARLA HOOD - MY QUIET VILLAGE

What turned one of the Little Rascals into a grown up sexy Lounge lizard? It probably had something to do with her marriage. Darla Hood divorced her insurance salesman hubby in 1957, and the ex-child star and most famous female of the "Our Gang" comedies, married record company exec Jose Granson the same year. Which was 1957, the year she recorded her first demi-hit, "I Just Wanna Be Free."

"My Quiet Village" arrived in 1959. Yes, the song was intended to cash in the rage for what we now call "exotica," the music that backpack-wearers now clamber over themselves to acquire, breaking their horn rims and breaking wind, as they hunker over musty cardboard boxes of albums in thrift shops or at nerd-events like the WFMU record fair.

Darla's birthday is coming up soon (November 8, 1931 - June 13, 1979) which is a good reason to post this oddity. Another reason is to get her name onto "Captain Crawl," because as you see, when you type it in at the moment, you're told that you must've typed the wrong name...



"My Quiet Village" was originally released on the indie Ray Note label, and credited to Baxter-Leven (the sheet music gives the full names, Leslie Baxter and Mel Leven). Darla would follow "My Quiet Village" with "Silent Island," for which she supplied the lyrics. Billboard enthused, "ballad, chanted warmly by the chick to a lush backing featuring strings." But we'll leave that for another time, and somebody else's blog.



DARLA HOOD livens up MY QUIET VILLAGE

ILL-Ustrated Songs #18 : The haunting SHARLEEN SPITERI

Creepy and spooky, mysterious and retro, here's the nicely ooky "I'm Going to Haunt You," one of the better modern "vamp" songs out there, and a strange cross between Morticia Addams and Nancy Sinatra. The gruesomely winsome song is right there with lethal Illfolks fave Jill Tracy's "Evil Night Together" from the 1999 album "Diabolical Streak."

Unlike Tracy, Sharleen is only slumming in the world of erotic evil. She rarely wears glamour make-up these days, and most of the other tracks on her 2008 album "Melody" veer into other old-becomes-new directions, including "All the Times I Cried," which echoes the big beat days of Dusty Springfield.

Sharleen's newest release is a concept album "The Movie Songbook," which tackles a variety of great and not-so-great songs made popular in films. She sings "The Sound of Silence" from "The Graduate" and "Windmills of Your Mind" from "The Thomas Crown Affair" as well as "Xanadu" from the Olivia Newton-John film of the same name. The Glasgow beauty who fronted the band Texas through three platinum U.K. releases before turning solo, is now serious about her own film career, so watch for her up on a silver screen near you. For more information visit her website: http://www.sharleenspiteri.co.uk/
SHARLEEN SPITERI: I'm Going to Haunt You

Ill-Ustrated Songs #17 "DIRTY MAGGIE MAY" Vipers Skiffle Group Pre-Beatles

"Dirty Maggie May...she'll never walk down Lime Street anymore..." What happened to the rest of "Maggie May" on The Beatles' "Let it Be" album? Why didn't they complete it? Maybe Lennon figured everybody knew the song so well he didn't need to go on. John and his friends knew The Vipers Skiffle Group version by heart. Download it and you will, too.
Liverpool's DIRTY MAGGIE MAY

Ill-Ustrated Songs #16 "Yiddishe Mama" in SPANISH Neil Sedaka

Posted in time for the most solemn day on the Jewish calendar, here's Neil Sedaka singing the tearjerker "My Yiddishe Mama" in Spanish.
There's nothing too surprising about a link between the Jews and Latin countries. The great ventriloquist Senor Wences was Jewish. The Sephardic Eydie Gorme recorded many albums in Spanish. And Neil Sedaka very carefully made sure he was in key (it was the day of attunement) when he recorded his favorite tunes en Espanol.
Even so...this is posted in time for Yom Kippur, because if there's anything that could make the day more gloomy, THIS IS IT.
MY YIDDISHE MAMA in SPANISH Listen on line or download, porn-ad free.

Ill-Ustrated Songs #15 Slaughter on Tenth Avenue Al Caiola

Here's the brilliant Al Caiola version of "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue."
Lounge. Too often, this term is abused by the un-hip.
If you're in a record store and you see a guy with stooped shoulders hauling a backpack, wearing a sloppy plaid shirt and khaki pants and Hush Puppies, you damn well know what bin he's hunched over: "LOUNGE." He'll squint through his glasses at any name he's been told is cool to like (Esquivel, babe) and maybe even take a fearful glimpse at those Julie London album covers that say, "You couldn't even put me on a spindle properly."
And he'll probably overlook the Al Caiola albums. Good. He's missing tracks like THIS, from Al's "Spies and Private Eyes" disc.
On this arrangement of "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" gunshot percussion and a blast of brass let us know that we're in a bad part of town on a dangerous night; West Side Story without chorus boys or Sondheim. Al Caiola hauls out his twanger and seems to count the number of punches being thrown.
We're barely a minute into the tune when the neighborhood really starts to rumble; organ blasts to one side, gasping horns on the other. And then, soaring over it all like a police helicopter, one hell of a trumpet. Blow, Gabriel, because some devils are gonna be swoopin' the planet tonight.
Too often it's easy to overlook how calculated "charts" can be, and how perfectly they can produce some sonic sock. This is a textbook example on how to pull out all stops in tempo, juxtaposition of brass vs percussion, and the texture of hard bongo skin and twangy guitar, to produce an audio picture of mixed-neighborhood mayhem.
The tune cues the warning wail of a trumpet again, a police siren howl. The organ weeps and shudders, but the relentless drums don't stop, and with 40 seconds left, Al Caiola picks up the body count with his guitar pick, till the squealer brass section calls the cops and there's a final stuttering step-away from the crime by the drums.
That was one helluva slaughter. Listen on line or download, porn-ad free.

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #14 VALERIE - Marshall Crenshaw

The Ill Folks blog anthem could well be Marshall Crenshaw's "You're My Favorite Waste of Time," so let's perversely choose "Valerie" instead. One of many "off" artists (a contemporary of Jonathan Richman and Greg Kihn), M.C. never exactly became a chart success with his odd punk and rockabilly mixes.

No doubt the labels who kept pushing oddballs like Loudon Wainwright, Nick Lowe or Randy Newman knew they'd eventually get at least a fluke novelty hit, but Crenshaw? His labels kept trying but none of his quirky numbers ever nicked the Top 20, did they?


Crenshaw's put out many an album, and each has some truly catchy tracks.
OK, maybe he never ran over a skunk, laughed about a dead actress being nibbled by her dog, or cracked a verse about short people...but he did sing this Buddy un-Holy ode to "Valerie," who might be short, might be capable of eating human flesh, and might smell to high heaven, too.
VALERIE by CRENSHAW

Ill-Ustrated Songs #13 Tiptoe to the Gas Pumps

Once upon a time, there was a gas shortage.
There were long lines, rationing, and nobody to cheer us up except Tiny Tim! He issued a single, even though vinyl is made from fossil fuel, and tried his plucky best to get the creepy sheiks and the manipulative oil companies to give us all a break.
Alas, there is no Tiny Tim to help us today. And gas prices continue to soar. No Tiny Tim and high gas prices. What a world, what a world.
Yes, like most everyone else, I can say that I did meet Tiny Tim, and he was indeed a kindly and pleasant fellow. Sincere but not "on" when he wasn't working, when I told him that I actually bought a copy of "Bring Back Those Rockabye Baby Days," he was flattered but didn't blow kisses. He was, after all, not quite the same guy you saw on "The Tonight Show" in real life.
Today there's plenty of gas...you don't have to tiptoe to the pumps. But you might crawl from the ATM having to withdraw so much to pay for it.
TIP TOE TO THE GAS PUMPS Listen on line or free download. No pop ups, code words or loser ads for dating services or pheromone sprays.

Ill-Ustrated Songs #12 LAURIE/STRANGE THINGS HAPPEN - Dickey Lee

Here's one of the great teen-death songs, a campfire horror tale set to music. Unusual for any Top 40 hit, this was one continuous story, evolving through three minutes to the punchline. Like any good anecdote, it was fun to re-tell, or to hear again and again.

If "Laurie" seems like a familiar old fashioned ghost story, it's because it is. 

It's based on the folklore of "Resurrection Mary." Her story seems to have originated in Chicago, around the time "Frankenstein" and "Dracula" were in movie theaters. Mary would appear to motorists, asking for a lift.

They would notice that she was wearing a rather ghostly white dress, and when she touched them, to point them down the road to where she needed to be left off, her hands felt cold. And where did she ask to be dropped off? Why in front of Resurrection Cemetery. She'd glide out of the car and...disappear.

This simple, creepy little anecdote would be one of many told late at night around the camp fireside, or as a bedtime story to scare the little kiddies.

It's similar to "One Step Beyond" anecdotes...like the one about the girl who is scared a maniac is on the loose. She asks her boyfriend to go outside and investigate...and he doesn't come back. She waits and waits. She listens. Then is petrified by a scratching noise at her front door. When it finally stops, she cautiously opens the door...to see her boyfriend with an ax in his head, his fingernail worn out from trying to scratch at the door for help. 

A variation on the "Resurrection Mary" story is called "Just Beyond the Cemetery," (told by Boris Karloff on the Mercury record album "Tales of the Frightened,"). A motorist is helped by a girl who then vanishes as if she was a ghost. 

The idea with horror quickies is to leave the listener momentarily shaken, if not stirred. The urban legend of ghostly Mary was submitted to the Memphis Commercial Appeal by a teenage girl, Cathie Harmon. It was read by Dr. Milton Addington, an amateur songwriter. 

He knew Dickey Lee, and when Dickey was looking for a follow-up to "Patches," and thinking, "maybe we can come up with some kind of ghost story," Addington was inspired. 

In Harmon's version, Mary appears at the Liberty Grove dance hall,  and seems to enjoy a last dance with a fellow who asks to take her home. He drops her off at, yeah, Resurrection Cemetery. She walks away and vanishes. Strange, she had given him her address, but insisted on stopping at the cemetery instead! Puzzled, the next day he visits her house. A woman answers. She says the girl USED to live there, but DIED. Oooooooooh. 

An irony is that a rather faithful version of this ghost story was performed by Frankie Miller for Starday. The single (credited to the trio of John Duffey, Joe Kingston and Chaw Monk) is titled "Bringing Mary Home." Mac Wiseman, Smiley Bates, Red Sovine and the great Billy Edd Wheeler also performed vintage versions of the song, but most recall THIS guy, Frankie Miller: 

"Bringing Mary Home" on YouTube 

"There was something strange about her. Her face was deathly white. She sat so pale and quiet there, in the back seat all alone. I never will forget that night, I took Mary home. I pulled into the driveway where she told me to go. Got out to help her from the car, and opened the door. But I could not believe my eyes, the back seat was bare. I looked all around the car but Mary wasn't there.

"A small light shone from the porch. Someone opened up the door. I asked about the little girl that I was looking for. And the lady gently smiled, and brushed a tear away. 

"(spoken) She said it sure was nice of you to go out of your way. But sir, 13 years ago today, in a wreck just down the road, our darling Mary lost her life and oh, we miss her so. So thank you for your kindness, and the troubles you have shown. You're the 13th one who's been here, bringing our Mary home."

Kindly Dr. Addington included Cathie Harmon as co-writer of his version of the song, which transplants the action to a dance and then to the graveyard. Dickey Lee once mentioned that he never did actually meet Cathie. But "Laurie?" He said, "Around Halloween it gets the heck play out of it...that song did cause a bit of trouble. There was a report of some kids who went out and wrote 'Laurie' on a bunch of tombstones in a cemetery."

"Mitt" Addington wrote about four dozen songs. Being Memphis-based, most were C&W oriented.  The closest one in fame to "Strange Things Happen (Laurie)" is "The Girl I Can't Forget," also recorded by Dickey Lee. The Vogues recorded his song "Five O'Clock World," Jerry Lee Lewis sang "Memphis Beat" Homer and Jethro yocked "Charlie Cheated on His Income Tax" (co-written with Dickey Lee and Allen Reynolds) and his co-writer Allen Reynolds tried "Though The Eyes of Love."  

Other songs by "Mitt" Addington include: "Baby No No," "Burned Fingers," "Car Nine," "Dodo" "Doll House," "Don't Knock What You Don't Understand," "El Toro de Goro," "Elmer the Elf," "Five Chicks," "Hide the Hurt," "I Go Lonely," "If It Wasn't for a Woman," "Impressions," "Julie Never Meant a Thing," "Lollipops and Teardrops," "The Long Walk from Childhood," "Lovers By Night," "Medicine Man," "Mr. Santa Claus," "Not Wisely But Too Well," "Out of Sight Out of Mind," "Ring Around the World," "Sunday Jealous," "Teach Me to Moan," "Trifling Around," "When Marty Throws a Party," "You Can't Turn Me Off Cause You Didn't Turn Me On," "You Name it She's Got It" and "Your Kisses." He was 55 when he died in 1979.   

Dickey Lee "told" the story well, his adenoids at just the right level of innocence and cringe. It's hard not to sound dorky while singing the word "sweater." His song's character is quite a sympathetic fool, missing obvious clues ("an angel of a girl.") 

For what most would consider a "cheapie" single on an obscure label a lot of production work went into the song to help make it a hit. The arrangement is first rate, with it's tentative bits of harpsichord, it's surge of heavenly brass, and a graceful pause when the father reveals the song's punchline. From there, the production (arrangement by Ray Stevens) kicks into eerie overdrive thanks to a choir and apparently the ethereal vocalise from none other than Marni Nixon. I haven't confirmed that the anecdote is a fact, but apparently Addington and/or Lee knew Ernest Gold, the famous ("Exodus" among others) composer. He in turn was married at the time to Marni (their son was pop singer Andrew Gold). So Ernest may have done some un-credited production on the song and figured it needed some the ghostess-hosting of Marni to drive the tune home. Boots Randolph (sax) and Jerry Reed (guitar) were also on this historic recording. When it was completed, Lee listened to the playback and thought, "This is cool — kinda weird."

Dickey Lipscomb (born September 21, 1936 in Memphis) had a regional hit in 1957 called "Dream Boy" on the Tampa label. In 1962 he ironically covered "Tell Laura I Love Her" on the album "Patches" (two death songs on one album!) He also covered "Teen Angel." Looking to switch up on morbid ballads, Dickey's next top ten was "I Saw Linda Yesterday," which he originally thought might be good for George Jones. After "Linda," in May, 1965, "Laurie" peaked at #14 and led to another album...this one larded with cover-songs with girls' names in them: Nadine, Marie, Annie, Gina, etc. Dickey vanished, then reappeared on RCA with seven C&W albums (1971-76). Dickey's biggest hit was a song he wrote for George Jones: “She Thinks I Still Care." More recently (ok, ten years ago) he co-wrote the Tracy Byrd hit "Keeper of the Stars." Dickey began touring Europe circa 1985 on the "oldies" circuit, doing a bunch of his hits along with a handful of other 60's artists. Who knows, once in a while one of them may have taken to the stage to cover the George Jones tune "She Thinks I Still Care," which was the biggest hit Dickey has as a solo songwriter.

Lastly from Mr. Lee: "My advice to any would be songwriters: If you kind of want to do it forget it or do it as a hobby. If you really want to do it you will know because outside of your family (in most cases) you will sacrifice everything it takes to hang in there. My first BMI check was for 69 cents and I cashed it because I needed the money!"
Laurie "Strange Things Happen" Instant Download or Listen on Line. No pop-ups, codes or porn ads