Larry Vincent - What Rhymes with SHIT? "Sweet Violets"

    A cousin to the famous Benny Bell song “Shaving Cream,” here’s Larry Vincent singing “Sweet Violets.” A gag that never seems to get old, you still smile when, instead of the expected dirty-word rhyme...you get a chiding chorus oh-so-innocently offering a sweet, incongruous refrain.

 Among people who care about novelty songs…almost nobody really gives a pile of SWEET VIOLETS or SHAVING CREAM over whether Larry stole from Benny Bell, or the reverse. Most likely Benny Bell was the original, but the idea of an innocent word substituting for a nasty one goes back a lot earlier. Benny's "Shaving Cream" arrived in 1946, Larry's "Sweet Violets" in 1949.  
 
Born in San Jose, California (January 13, 1901) Vincent began touring in the 1920's. During a stay in Chicago he recorded his lone early single, “She’s a Great, Great Girl.” Singing straight material, he tried his hand at songwriting, coming up with “If I Had My Life to Live Over,” a co-write with the more established Jewish songwriters Moe Jaffe and Henry Tobias. Larry recorded it himself on the “20th Century Records” label, credit to “Larry Vincent and [the] Feilden Foursome.” The flip, a co-write with Haven Gillespie, is “Stay as Long as You Like.”

 If you don't want to know more about Moe Jaffe and Henry Tobias, skip this paragraph. Tobias, a cousin of Eddie Cantor’s, wrote the melody for “And Away We Go” recorded by Jackie Gleason. Henry wrote a book, “Music In My Heart and Borscht in my Blood.” He worked with several different people, including his brothers. Among his hits were “Miss You,” recorded by Jaye P. Morgan, Bing Crosby and others, “Cooking Breakfast For the One I Love” (Fanny Brice), “Easter Sunday With You’ (Perry Como) and “May I Have the Next Dream with You” (Jerry Vale). Moe Jaffe co-wrote “I Don’t Know from Nuthin’” with Henry Tobias, but worked with many others as well. Moe’s co-writes include “The Gypsy in My Soul” (with Clay Boland) “Oh You Sweet One” (with Paul Kapp), and “Bell Bottom Trousers,” which was a bawdy ballad he cleaned up (sort of the way Cy Coben cleaned up "Sweet Violets") “Collegiate” (a co-write with the oddly-named Nat Bonx) was recorded by quite a few people including Fred Waring, and turns up via Chico Marx in The Marx Brothers’ college comedy “Horse Feathers.” The versatile Moe could even knock off gospel titles, such as “Get Together with the Lord,” a co-write with Bickley Reichner that was recorded by Andy Kirk’s Orchestra.
 
Larry Vincent kicked around various peculiarly named nightclubs, from Benny the Bum’s in Philadelphia to The Lookout House in Covington, Kentucky, where he stayed for many years. Not quite as obscure as it might seem, Covington wasn’t too far from Cincinnati, Ohio. Go check a map. It was in the unlikely town of Covington that Larry and Moe Jaffe formed the Pearl Records label. Like Benny Bell recording for Bell Records, Vincent hired himself to record everything on his label.  He tried “legit” novelty songs (“I Grow Gooey Over Chop Suey”)  but ended up pandering to the “party song” crowd.
 
Larry’s popular numbers, including “Sweet Violets,” “Yas Yas Yas,” “The Smell Song (Fish Fish Fish),” “Sarah Sittin’ in a Shoe Shine Shop” and “I Used to Work in Chicago” were usually credited to  “Larry Vincent and the Pearl Boys,” or “The Pearl Boys,” “The Pearl Trio” or “The Pearl Five” etc. etc. With a nod to his hangout at The Lookout House, a number of his 78’s were also credited to “Larry Vincent and his Lookout Boys.” He had a certain wiseguy-charm that made his risque tunes more amusing than annoying, more light-hearted than smarmy. Most of his 78’s were released between 1946 and 1949, the date for "Sweet Violets."
 
As the long-play era started in the 50's Larry compiled some of his old tunes, including  “She Had to Lose It as the Astor,” “The Kanaka Song,” “Buster Astor,” “Get Off the Table Mabel” and various “butt” pun songs like “I Kissed Her But I Never Will Again” and “She Has Freckles On her But She is Nice,” (aka The Freckle Song). The albums include “Listen and Laugh” and “Laugh Provoking Ditties for the Party.”   

Still hoping for a legit hit, in the mid-50’s Larry recorded “The Whole Town’s Batty About Cincinnati” and lastly, the 1954 single “Let’s Bowl (The Bowling Song”) b/w “I Cried For You.”
 
Larry's risque rival Benny Bell didn't stay in the risque novelty genre in the late 50's or 60's. By then, silly double entendre stuff was passe, and instead of discs by those guys, or contemporaries Dwight Fiske and Ruth Wallis,  Lenny Bruce records were hot. Benny's "hot" tunes had also turned up the heat on him, as many Jews in his Brooklyn neighborhood frowned on such frivolity. Benny sang many straight novelty numbers in Yiddish and authored "freilachs" (dance instrumentals) that were played at weddings. The Jewish stores that sold this kind of thing (along with menorahs, prayer shawls and Molly Picon 78's) threatened not to carry Benny's material if he didn't clean up his act.

Benny did clean up his act, and when he composed novelty songs, they were aimed (not too successfully) in the direction of past (Mickey Katz) and current (Allan Sherman) Jewish novelty singers. For example, he hoped for a knock-off on Chubby Checker via "The Kosher Twist." Benny was pleasantly surprised when people old enough to be his grandson discovered and delighted in his old risque tunes. ‘Shaving Cream” was re-issued and became a surprise hit, landing in the Billboard Top 40 in 1975. Larry? He passed on, January 5, 1977.

Larry Vincent  
Sweet Violets   Instant download or listen on line. 

SWEET VIOLETS - anticipation comedy from HOMER & JETHRO

    “Anticipation comedy” is a very simple way of getting a laugh. In fact in our 21st Century, it’s considered too simple. But for quite a while, the formula worked. 

    I remember “us kids” singing the “Lulu” song. We thought it was so clever: 

    “Lulu had a steamboat. The steamboat had a bell. Lulu went to heaven, the steamboat went to —
    Hello Operator, give me Mr. Glass. If you can not find him. I’ll paddle your —
    Behind the fridgerator…” 

    And on and on. 

    (Parenthetically, another form of “Anticipation comedy” was perfected by Mantan Moreland, using a variety of vaudeville partners. Instead of relying on actual jokes and complicated mis-hearings, like “Who’s on First,” the routine simply involved cutting off the sentences like a know-it-all. “Mantan, what’s your brother doin’ now?” “He’s working down here for a man. They payin’ him a salary—“ “He can live that cheap??” “You got him wrong. He gonna get married.” “To whom?” “He’s gonna marry the daughter of —“ “She’s a nice girl. Well…” “You got some dirt?” “One time I —“ “That was her sister.”) 

    Along with “Shaving Cream,” the notorious version of “Sweet Violets” got the laughs by NOT rhyming the expected word: SHIT. You anticipated it, and got the laugh-producing surprise of a silly chorus instead.   

    Could the radio play that kind of thing in the 40’s? Definitely not. But “Sweet Violets” DID get played in a different version. 

    And so it was that later, as the dj spun his disc, that his face, it just stayed ghostly, ‘cause the disc was not a risk. Cy Coben (who worked quite a bit with Homer and Jethro) created the acceptable version, partnered with Charles Grean. Homer and Jethro’s version starts out with the familiar, if not downright annoying “Sweet Violets” chorus: 

    “Sweet violets, sweeter than the roses,  Covered all over from head to toe. Covered all over with sweet violets,” a bit of crummy schmaltz that goes back to 1882 and the forotten Joseph Emmet. From there, it’s time for anticipation and denial: 

    “There one was a guy who invited his pals out to a burlesque show to
    LOOK at the scenery for it would be well worth the trip, when a gal came on stage and she started to
    CRY, ‘cause a clown with big putty nose walked out on the stage and said “Peel off your
    GLASSES but…” 

Now, the rude version of “Sweet Violets” was well known, and the Cy Coben version, less so. So you can imagine, in 1951, how surprised disc jockeys were when they received copies of the new Dinah Shore single from RCA, and it was, yep, “Sweet Violets.” 

Her version, which made it to #3 on the charts, is pretty similar to the Homer and Jethro version. But let’s give it to our boys Homer and Jethro, since they are STILL under-appreciated and STILL haven’t gotten that Bear Family boxed set of all their RCA Victor sides, which they deserve.

Homer and Jethro 
Sweet Violets   Instant download or listen on line. 

Elsa Lanchester is bawdy, and Illfolks' "Hard Work" gets "borrowed"

Hmmm. Back in 2007, TEN YEARS AGO, I posted an Elsa Lanchester song. As I tend to do, I didn't just post it for a Paypal tip, or use Rapidshare or Megaupload so I might get a free account. It was all "shared" at no profit. I also tossed in one of my typically cheeky Photoshop jobs.

FIVE years later, and another blogger steals (er, "Shares") not my link, but my Photoshop job. Did he/she say "This was done by Ill Folks?" No. Did he/she say "I found this on the Illfolks blog?" No.

In fact, he/she took pains to Photoshop ILLFOLKS off the photo, and FLIP it, making it seem that his/her version is the original, and mine, posted FIVE YEARS EARLIER, is the copy.

Did you notice that I had Karloff's monster peeking through the window at her? Another little touch I bothered to do. But I see I made a mistake in not putting a name or logo OVER a strategic part of the photo, so an ASSHOLE couldn't just COVER IT OVER and pretend ownership.

Christ, you see this in the "real" world all the time, with ignorant self-entitled brats saying, "I bought that CD, DVD, book...so I'm allowed to make copies to give away, or even sell." No, you bought a COPY with NO rights to COPY it, silly "copyright is copy wrong" SPOILED BABY.

This creature (I have no idea of "Cherrybomb" is a real woman or a campy drag queen) even asks for a donation on the free blog site masked as a dotcom:

As Bob Dylan sang it, "If you live outside the law you must be honest." It would've killed this schmuck to give me a credit, on a dot.com that is basically LOW on original content and creativity, and mostly a collection of celebrity nudie images, fake or real? It takes "hard work" to Google celebrity nudes and surf blogs and "harvest" content like grave robbers do with kidneys and livers?

Al Goldstein's lawyer (and who would be a better one on matters involving sleaze) once explained a quirk in the plagiarism laws. Generally, you can't sue and win, or get "treble damages" unless you can PROVE that what happened affected you monetarily.

It comes down to four words: "What are your damages?"

Can I prove that this jerk stealing my Photoshop job deprived ME of income? Of course not. My blog has never posted: "BUY ME A DRINK" or "Help me pay for my time and HARD WORK" with a fucking PAYPAL DONATION button.

The bottom line is that YOU know about MY blog, and you never heard of Cherry's, until just now. (Christ, even the fake name is not original! Cherry Bomb? Ooof!)

The late great Brother Theodore put it this way: "The dog barking at the moon does not bother the moon in the slightest. It just makes the dog look like a jackass."

I have the talent to match up two images to create something unique. That JACKASS had the talent to erase my name from the photo and re-post it. Not exactly the same thing.

And here we are in January, 2017.

I should not even be blogging anymore.

I reached my TENTH ANNIVERSARY. This blog has been around TEN YEARS. If I was Jerry Seinfeld I would've quit a year ago!

Instead, there will be sporadic additions for the "small circle of friends" who visit here.

Oh, you don't have to say "I'm Glad To See You're Back."

I don't exist for "nice" comments.

Just enjoy the photo of Elsa, and if you choose, discover her talents as a Music Hall singer, via the download below:

"I'm Glad to See Your Back."

Students (I stole that greeting off Kay Kyser, and GIVE HIM CREDIT), long before Elsa was temptingly stitched up and then hitched up as "The Bride of Frankenstein," she was a nude model, the star of "Peter Pan" on the British stage, and the flame-haired darling of bohemians and intellectuals. She was well known for singing risque novelty tunes, and for her unlikely marriage to a brilliant but deeply conflicted and troubled actor by the name of Laughton

26 years after her dual role in "Bride of Frankenstein," Elsa debuted on Broadway in a one-woman show, singing, among others, "I'm Glad to See Your Back." The arched "Back" along with "Somebody Broke Lola's Saucepan" and "If You Peek in My Gazebo" had audiences tittering immoderately.

Elsa recorded "Songs for a Shuttered parlor" and "Songs for a Smoke Filled Room" (on the Hi-Fi label) with narration by Charles Laughton, whom she was still married to despite his "degrading" (her word) need to now and then be submissive with a male.

In a decision that probably had Laughton rolling awkwardly in his grave, these two albums were re-issued as "Bawdy Cockney Songs" and "More Bawdy Cockney Songs" (via Tradition) without him. I doubt there was any legal reason for omitting the introductions; the label rightly figured that people like to listen to songs over and over, but not introductions.

Elsa's other two original albums were on Verve, now a division of the Univ-arsal cartel. Maybe they'll toss 'em on Spotify to make a few extra nickels for themselves.

Return to those double-entendre days, as lovely Elsa Lanchester describes being glimpsed in her dressing room by a suitor who likes what he sees:

"Your face may be your fortune, but I like a different view. I'm glad to see your back..."

ELSA LANCHESTER SINGS Instant download or listen on line. No porn ads, pop-ups, waiting or code numbers.

BLOWFLY IS DEAD...like ROTTEN FISH

The past week has seen the progrock world moaning about The Thin White Duke, Smiley the "Breathlessly Beautiful," and the drummer from "Mott the Hoople." I think you knew better than to anticipate a tribute on this blog to them. They have more than enough fans. So the salute here is to BLOWFLY, and I have more albums by him than the other three put together. Which isn't to say that any of 'em even contain a song at the same level as "Space Oddity" or "Putting Out Fire (the theme for Cat People)". But hey, weren't the BLOWFLY album covers a lot less pretentious than the BOWIE album covers?

In the world of Blowfly, you wouldn't waste your time on Mott the Hoople when there was a chance to Suck the Nipple. You wouldn't be squealing "Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am" to a suffragette while secretly dreaming of being in bed with Mick Jagger. And your re-write on The Shirelles would go like this:

"Tonight your head is mine completely. As you jerk it in my cunt so freely…but will you still eat me when my period comes on?"

OK, I didn't say the guy's lyrics scanned that well. There was a decent, or rather, indecent shock laugh to some of what was on those old Blowfly records. A main problem with him, over 4 decades and spanning oldies parodies and funk porn, is that he was not on a major label and was elbowed aside by others. Early in his career, the stuff from Doug Clark and the Hot Nuts was much more accessible, and later, his funk was fairly mild and inept compared with the much more offensive and angry rap material out there from Ol' Dirty Bastard, 2 Live Crew or Li'l Kim.

Back in the early 70's, it wasn't easy to find Blowfly albums, which were on the obscure "Weird World" label. Record stores were afraid to put the records on the shelf, since they usually had the skankiest topless women on them, and Blowfly in his ridiculous superhero outfit. Much of what was on the black vinyl was, frankly, aimed at blacks only…and ones with a nasty sense of humor.

Blowfly was Clarence Reid (February 14, 1939-January 17, 2016). and as Clarence, he had some success in the "clean" music world. His legit songs turned up on albums by K.C. and the Sunshine Band, Betty Wright, and Sam and Dave. K.C.'s label, TKO, released "Rap Dirty" back in 1980, which Blowfly would later insist made him "the first rapper," and a true pioneer. What he definitely was, in his Blowfly guise, was a crapper. This included his parody, "Shittin' on the Dock of the Bay." Like most parodists, he ran afoul of copyright holders. The courts were on his side, though, since parody was, and is, considered "fair use," as long as the profits are split. After all, if you change the lyrics but keep the music, the original composer should still be paid. Too bad if the lyricist who wrote "What A Difference a Day Makes" doesn't find it funny to hear "What a Difference a Lay Makes."

Reid's rather stupid comedy name was something he received as a child. Foul-mouthed almost from the time he could talk, Clarence liked to jerk around with whatever he heard on the radio. Singing along to Chubby Checker's "Do The Twist," Clarence changed the words to "Suck My Dick!" His grandmother declared, with awe if not enthusiasm, "You is nastier than a blowfly." Well, it could've been chigger, which would've been worse.

With his legit songwriting and his underground fame as Blowfly, Clarence managed to stay in showbiz year after year, and by the 1990's, the world had somewhat caught up with him, and he was getting better gigs and less hassles. Record stores that had been busted just for selling his "Porno Freak" album now stocked all his stuff. He toured with his sex songs and often was welcomed on the bill with other established acts, like Flea and the Fishbone, or colleague in dirty vinyl, Rudy Ray Moore. Jello Biafra was a fan, too.

But...Blowfly wasn't exactly going to sell out big venues, and it's no surprise that as he struggled into his 70's, his bookings were less frequent. That he was seeing little royalties from airplay or record sales in the age of Spotify and piracy, meant that he had to keep pushing to do live shows, even if his health and stamina wasn't what it once was. His website, not updated often, didn't list any dates after the summer of 2014 when he managed to book a few shows.

He probably sold t-shirts at his gigs. He had one as part of his infamous CD box set. The 3-CD set "Blowfly X-Rated" includes a t-shirt AND a membership card. Just who'd be impressed if you flash it, I don't know. I've never flashed it, and I've never taken the t-shirt out of the plastic bag it's in.

Blowfly was popular enough to even grant interviews with such prestigious publications as SCREW. I dug up some Q&A from a slowly tanning few pages from a 1991 issue of SCREW. It's Blowfly talkin' with Al Goldstein:

AL: "You are not on everyone's list because your message and your songs have not reachd the public. How do you view your career? "

BLOWFLY: "Most ofthe other guys just be plain nasty. Anybody can be nasty…it takes blues like "When somebody fucks you, it's no good unless he fucks you all the way…" You can't help but laugh. It's the combination of nasty and funny."

AL: "Is a black woman offended by being told hey, you're my bitch? "

BLOWFLY: "No, because they're used to hearing it. They know the definition of what it means….Bitch is just like calling a man he's a motherfucker. Bad means, like, good." AL: "It used to be when I was in school the black guys would say "My Bitch will suck my dick but I don't eat her pussy…" Has that changed?

BLOWFLY: "Oh, that has changed now. It's like the opposite way. We got it from you Jewish guys."

AL: "Have you had any relationships with Jewish women?"

BLOWFLY: "A couple."

AL: "They like to be in charge. They want you to be submissive. Do you enjoy that?"

BLOWFLY: "Well, his particular chick wanted me to get into a sexual thing with her and she wanted to play the dominating role. The least I can do is obey her, because one favor deserves another."

AL: So you're saying she made you do it…and you put the dildo up your ass for her sake. Is that what you're telling us?"

BLOWFLY: "Shut this guy's mouth!"

And now, Blowfly's mouth is shut. However, like a corpse in a badly constructed casket, the smell lingers on. Below are two examples of the Blowfly's nasty sting.

ROTTEN FISH, a Jamaican novelty, channels Benny Hill, turning an old joke into a rhyme: "…I can always tell when a chick is a nasty whore. When she's dancing and doin' the splits and her ass sticks to the floor."

SHE'S BAD, something Michael Jackson might've done had he been heterosexual, is really no different from a lot of rap and R&B from the late 80's and early 90's. Reid's vocals don't add much to the predictable melody and sass: "The bitch is built to the hilt, she keep her pussy wrapped in silk…she will make you come in yo pants until there's nothin' left. Her pussy's so motherfuckin' good that she wanna fuck herself!"

ROTTEN FISH Blowfly tries some raunchy reggae

SHE'S BAD How bad, Blowfly? Less feminine-looking than Michael Jackson?

"IF YOU SEE KAY" A fuckin' tasty treat from SWEETPIE

I don't know how much money he made off me, but in my disc jockey days, I did play SWEETPIE's "If You See Kay" quite a bit.

One of the rules at the radio station was "you can't curse. It's ok if an ARTIST says it on VINYL, but not YOU."

Naturally I took every opportunity to play snippets of Lenny Bruce or George Carlin, and regularly offered Zappa's "Lonesome Cowboy Burt" with the happy shout at the end, "You hot little bitch!" Ah, "Prince of Blends" that I was, I segued that line into "Bitch" by the Rolling Stones.

When I had a spare minute to shake the listeners up, I played an oddity called "If You See Kay." I discovered it surreptitiously tucked into the grooves of a Warner Bros."loss leader" album. No, Sweetpie, who sang the thing, wasn't officially on their label, but they mixed it in just the same. There were some very cool people at Warners in those days, and for a disc jockey wanting to play a wide variety of music, the Warners "loss leader" sampler albums made it seem like I had a much more monumental record collection than I did back then.

Since Warners was not promoting him, I had no idea who Sweetpie was. I figured he was some old black blues man, but it turned out that he was a white hippie weirdo. His 1972 album on The Fugs' ESP label is "Pleasure Pudding LIVE AT FAT CITY." Among the hippie-dippie tracks: "Let's Boogie," "This Bitter Earth" "Too Drunk to Ball," "Vermont - A Lazy Man's Colorado" and "Kay." Through the 70's, Sweetpie shocked and annoyed East Coast audiences (especially in Massachusetts)

Sweetpie (Paul Winer) is still alive and well, and lives in Quartzite, Arizona where he runs a funky-lookin' bookstore and, as always, sports wild hair, a wild beard, and is more prone to wear more on his head than anywhere else. The nudist-pianist certainly has good reason not to wear much in Arizona, so a single whats-it around his genitalia suffices. One tooth in his lower jaw apparently suffices, too, and might warn people against too much sweet pie.

Happily, you can find plenty of Sweetpie on YouTube, thanks to Todd Anderson who got him to both sing and recall his greatest hits. Aside from "If You See Kay," Sweetpie is known for the sing-along "Fuck 'Em If They Can't Take a Joke," which was popularized by Bette Midler. Just what is original, what is legend, what is owed to Memphis Slim, or what was just part of the R.Crumb Boogie subculture of the day…most people are way too baked and/or old to recall with any certainty.

Below, a live rendition of "If You See Kay" from Our Hippie in Arizona. The 1972 album? You can download it at the espdisk.com website (yes, they expect payment). F.U.C.K. to the greedheads, Zinfarts and Hans Diverticulitis slobs who never drop some money in a singer's cup. And if you're in Quartzite, Arizona, and female, go pay homage to Sweetpie's cup. It's all he wears. Everyone else, buy something, there's a lot of odd stuff in the store that might be considered priceless.

SweetPie If You See Kay

"IF YOU SEE KAY" Randy Howard

Another tune with an "IF YOU SEE KAY" pun? Yes. While not as vivid as Sweetpie's jazzy number, it's a good 'un. It comes from the late Randy Howard.

Ol' Randy was a redneck's redneck. The proof is that he got killed in a gunfight. And he wouldn't be a redneck's redneck unless it was an unnecessary gunfight.

Before we examine his colorful last moments, you might NOT be a redneck if…your first thought is "Who the FUCK is Randy Howard?" Since I'm not a redneck, I only vaguely knew about him before his colorful death. While I'm a fan of a wide range of C&W including Homer & Jethro, Juice Newton, Mindy McCready, George Jones and plenty of others, and even owned a Johnny Paycheck "Greatest Hits," I'm not that strong on the overtly redneck world of Merle, Hank III, NASCAR, rebel flags, and the Randy Howard types.

Howard, a "hard-partying, gun-toting country caricature" (quoting the Fox News obit) gained attention in 1983 with his "All-American Redneck" album. The title track did well, but didn't propel Howard to stardom. At best, he was a solid opening act for the usual trouble-makers, and he could fill some venues on his own, too.

It's a testament to his abilities that he was still making some kind of a living from music over the next 20 years, and circa 2006, he gruffly deadpanned his way through "If You See Kay" live, while opening for one of the more popular "outlaw" stars. The sound ain't too bad on this cowboy boot. Nine years later, and Howard was hiding out in a cabin in Lynchburg, pissed off about his mounting legal problems.

Randy's offenses were just the redneck usuals; driving without a valid license, reckless driving under the influence, being reckless with a gun. It's the latter problem that ended his life.

The aging All-American redneck had enough of a price on his head to make him attractive to a local bounty hunter. Howard did not want to go quietly. He allegedly shot first, and the bounty hunter defended himself. What makes this ring true is that the bounty hunter had to be hospitalized. You don't shoot a guy then somehow fire a shot into yourself for a "he shot first" defense. The man was not expecting to shoot at all, since the reward on him and the jail time involved were fairly minor. Howard overreacted, and it was over.

Apparently Randy Howard did not have any last words. Not "Aw, shit." Or a demure, "F-U-C-K." Here's "If You See Kay..."

RANDY HOWARD If You See Kay

KATE AND PRINCE WILLIAM, PLEASE, "DO IT NO MORE"

For the past week, the irritating combo of Kanye and Kim had to step aside while the world gasped at something almost as irrelevant: the new baby for Kate Middleton the Topless and Prince William the Bald. As Groucho used to say, "You seem like a nice couple…" but, you bet your life, who the hell wants to read about them, or give a crap about their diaper-fouling spawn?

Toothless and ignorant Brits actually pranced around with gleeful banners "IT'S A PRINCESS!" referring to a toothless and ignorant baby. Were you idiot commoners expecting a frog? You commoners are stupid enough to think fairy tales come true? Well, yes, they do, but only for The Royals, not for YOU LOT! What's your vicarious delight in how "classier than you by birth" Royals prance and ponce around the world, and periodically procreate?

Poor people buying up souvenirs of ROYAL events? It only encourages the ROYALS to believe that average people are absolute fools, not worthy of any respect.

Cheering Brat #2? This spawn is so far down the line she'll never be Queen. By the time she's fully grown, it might be "off with her head," for not being Muslim, the likely majority.

The way things are going in formerly Great Britain, the Queen in 40 years could be a gay man (son of Elton and David), or more likely, it'll be a Muslim, and in that case, a King. (Arabs don't think women should do much besides stay covered in cloth and pretend to enjoy sex without the clitoris that was circumcised off). In 2055 you might see King Gazzoleen, the former Duke of Oil, on the throne. He'll be shouting to the white peasants, "Let them eat hummus." Looking for Cameron? He will have been smashed to bits and given an anonymous burial under a gas station parking lot. Nick Clegg, doddering only a bit more than he is now, will be one of the midwives helping in the birthing of Muslim babies. That's all members of the "Labour Party" will be allowed to do.

Speaking of labour, after the hoopla over the birth of this useless dollop, sister to useless dollop #1, I wondered how many were secretly singing, "Do It No More." Just switch the song about Prince Albert and Queen Victoria to the new names, Prince William and Kate.

"Do it No More," popular in the 1840's, was a wry, ribald and daring song for the day. It seems that SOME people weren't too thrilled about tax money going to the ever-expanding family of "Royals," and who knows, maybe Queen Victoria's vagina was getting tired of it, too. Hence, a song with the Queen supposedly declaring a cease and desist with the royal dick.

"John Bull," in the song, refers to the press. A reporter has heard Queen Victoria say, or sing: "The state is bewildering about little children, and we are increasing, you know we have four. We kindly do treat them and seldom to beat them, so Albert dear Albert we'll do it no more."

Albert isn't pleased with the idea: "Do not persuade me or try to degrade me all pleasure and pastime to freely give over…" Well, listen for yourself, it won't won't hurt.

It especially won't hurt because the singer is the artist Derek Lamb, who chose to record British Music Hall in an intimate way, without the usual Stanley Holloway-type bombast.

As originally published in song books of the day, "Do It No More" (aka "England Forever/Do It No More") went on longer than a Thomas Hood ballad, but it's considerably truncated in this Lambinated version

DEREK LAMB Do It No More - British Music Hall update version Download or listen on line.

No passwords using names of assholes. No links to Kim Dotcom Mega-conjobs. No spyware.

Ill-ustrated Songs #22 : "Tying Up is FUN To Do"

The world's just discovered bondage and domination? Seems that way, thanks to that ugly cow who wrote the "Shades of Grey" series, which is now the subject of tiresome "who will be in the movie" rumors. A quirk of publicity (some people wanting to censor her self-published junk) led idiot women to seek out the ineptly written mommy-porn. Moronic readers have made millionaires of moronic writers over the years…talentless word recyclers like formula fatales Barbara Cartland, Jackie Collins, Nora Roberts or Danielle Steel.

It's no surprise that the late Marquis De Sade's books remain shunned by most everyone. After all, the guy was the real thing. He lived what he wrote. The "Grey Lady" has been a snore on talk shows. Her worst sin is that she has no panache. You can find intelligence, wit, even a certain odd sense of adventurous "fun" in De Sade and so many others…but the "Grey Lady" turns out to be like the result of a bad S&M session…lame.

Which, sparing you any further ranting, leads to "Tying Up is Fun To Do," which is something Dr. Ruth Westheimer could tell you in two perky minutes, or two pages of one of her sex books. The song is on an obscure album by "Franken'Don," which was self-pressed years ago in Vermont. Frank Chase and (shades of) Don Grey took a bunch of familiar 50's and 60's tunes and dirtied up the lyrics a bit. Released on their own "Lox Records" label (produced by a guy named Shapiro), the cuts range from faux-Weird Al ("Another One Buys a Saab") to faux-Allan Sherman ("Thank God I'm a Jewish Boy") to the more universal subjects of sex and stupidity (combined here).

Rather than offer the actual cover of this dollar-bin diversion it's filed under the category of "Ill-ustrated" songs…as we take the actual author, Neil Sedaka, and pair him with his one-time girlfriend Carole Klein (King). You might remember that Neil wrote "Oh Carol" for her, and she, in an early effort to move from songwriter to star, knocked off a slow-selling answer single, "Oh Neil." "Oh…" just download this curiosity and waste two minutes of your life.

Shades of Idiocy! TYING UP IS FUN TO DO Instant download or listen on line. No "type my name as the password" crap, no faux-links to spyware sites, no requests for donations.

THE DEPRESSIONS (Tonight I'm Gonna...) "SCREW YA"

From the punkettes of "Pussy Riot" we look back to the punks who sang "Screw Ya."

Hey, what if you take the Dr. Hook eye-patch look, a ton of peroxide off Billy Idol of Generation X, and instead of a Richard Hell "Love Comes in Spurts," go all Screw magazine with it, and snarl a Sex Pistol "Tonight I'm Gonna SCREW YA?" What happens??

Nothing.

Depressing? Well, if you've named the band The Depressions, you can probably handle it. Whatever became of E. Wright, the author of 'Screw Ya?" Or the girl on the receiving end of: "(I'll) bring tears to your eyes and cream to your thighs, I'm the best that you had so far yet!" What about other band members? Producer Paddy Bergin? (The good thing about rhetorical questions asked on the Internet, is that somebody or other will take it seriously and reply in the comments!)

I think I probably gave the record a good review at the time…(the time of getting paid, being part of rock magazines that had circulations of 200,000 to 500,000). I still have the album in pristine condition. Meaning, I've rarely played more than the amusing open track, a punk brag that you don't take too seriously. Or shouldn't. At the time, quite a few reviewers were actually offended. Typical was this from Record Mirror in the UK: "It's awful. Just dreadful…"Screw Ya" tells of the moronic behaviour of the lowest kind of male ego…male macho rubbish. It's third rate punk."

The review is from the UK because this thing never got across the pond. I may have been among the few who was so connected to the import field, that I regularly reviewed such obscure stuff (and had venues that appreciated a writer doing more than begging to hear the latest from Brooooos). The Depressions were apparently a pretty big hit in their home town (Brighton), where they debuted with promising singles, including "Get Out of this Town" and "Messing With Your Heart." After receiving offended and huffy reviews for this album, and doing some tumultuous live shows that seemed to generate disgust more than Sex Pistols-type admiration, they became The DP's and issued their finale, "If You Know What I Mean."

After all these years, there's two pieces of wisdom you can take away from this band: 1) a good way to handle depression is to screw and 2) it's not likely to happen if you approach a girl singing this song.

Sapristi! (tonight I'm gonna) SCREW YA

BEBE BARDON : the sexy groans of WHIPLASH!

The sadomasochistic link between pain and pleasure is often symbolized by the whip. In the works of DeSade, particularly "Justine," it's the weapon of choice, especially since the ping pong paddle hadn't been invented yet. In pop culture, you'll find such movies as "The Whip and the Body," the Christopher Lee horror film that had to be re-titled in America as merely "What." WTF?? Oh yes, an earlier entry on this blog offered Genya Ravan's version of "Whipping Post," which roils with erotic heat.

Back in the late 60's a budget record label and "Bebe Bardon" whipped up the ante and created rude competition for the hit instrumental of orgasmic moans, "Je T'aime...Moi Non Plus." Too bad it was a little too much for most radio stations, but then again, Gainsbourg's song stalled outside the Top 40 due to timid programming managers around the country. The 45 rpm from Bardon was on Alshire, and she had over 100 people backing her: the 101 Strings.

The 101 Strings were actually incognito members of the Northwest German Radio Orchestra of Hamburg. They knocked out over two dozen albums in 1958 alone! Over the next ten years, they sold over 50 million discs! They originally recorded for Somerset, but owner David L. Miller sold it to Al Sherman, who re-named the label after himself (Al-Sher, get it?) Alshire re-issued the old stuff, and by the late 60's when easy listening stopped selling, they experimented with budget moog, with string versions of Beatles songs, and yes, even "Sounds of Love" albums with sexy covers.

"Bebe Bardon," their huffer and puffer (and perhaps fluffer), took her name from "Bebe" Bardot, as Brigitte was popularly known around the world. B.B. herself had recorded a groaner, the original version of "Je T'aime...Moi Non Plus," which she and Serge Gainsbourg felt was a bit too rude to release (he re-recorded it with Birken). Apparently Al Sherman and his producers and arrangers could only afford an hour in the studio with their anonymous chick, and didn't cut enough tracks for a whole album. So her output was carefully parsed over several "Sounds of Love"-type discs, each padded with generic tracks, or in one case, some awful narratives done by Joe Adams. And yes, there were the singles, starting with a "Je T'aime" knock-off called "Love At First Sight" in 1969 and progressing ultimately to "Whiplash," with erotic heebie jeebies from Bebe. All the material was credited to the 101 Strings "with special effects by Bebe Bardon."

There's no question that while most easy listening is crap, whether dweebs choose to re-name it "lounge" or not, many tracks are entertaining, and even rise to the level of greatness.

"Whiplash," is a nifty instrumental and depending on your point of view (or point of hear, actually), the "special effects" from Bebe Bardon will be lovely, lewd or laughable. Or all three. It's entertaining, that's for sure, which is more than you can say for "The 101 Strings Play Hit American Waltzes." That one's still 99 cents on eBay. The Bardon stuff…that'll set you back a lot more.

WHIPLASH moaned by BEBE BARDON

JAILBAIT - ANNI PIPER

Any list of awesome Aussies should include Anni Piper. She's an authentic roots blues rocker, and the highest compliment would probably be that she sounds 100% American. Her latest release is "Chasin' Tail," and one of her first was "Jailbait." She sure knows the American way with a catchy album title.

And yes, that's her to your left. Which is as close as you'll ever get.

Since only a rude and rabid Tasmanian Devil would cop a track off a brand new release, there's nothing from "Chasin' Tail" below. Instead, you get the song "Jailbait," a sample of her down-under wares which should be more than enough to get you piping hot for Anni, and ready to go "Chasin' Tail."

She's so hot she'll probably be banned from Canada due to global warming concerns. When "Jailbait" first arrived, a nyuking Canuck at the The Edmonton Sun burned brightly for her:

"Anni Piper's inner CD sleeve is quite obviously designed -- successfully -- to make men drool over the statuesque Australian Blues Mama. Then she starts singing, and all sorts of other tingly things happen. Piper has the kind of voice that lulls men to their doom. It's soft and sweet when it wants to be, scared and vulnerable a moment later, then ripping through you like a razor..."

Anni's interest in music began when she was, well, jailbait. She was in school when she heard a memorable tune: "It was Paul Butterfield Blues Band playing "Born in Chicago." I knew straight away this was the direction I was heading."

"Jailbait" won glowing reviews in 2005, and she followed it two years later with "Texas Hold 'Em," a title that had the average viewer figuring she was born in the Lone Star state, except…neither album had been released in the U.S.A. Her American debut would come in 2009 via the indie "Two's Company," compiling the best tracks from her first two albums.

And now, 2010, there's "Chasin' Tail." So if you're chasin' Anni Piper, you have some catching up to do.
ANNI PIPER JAILBAIT

MIGHTY SPARROW: A FACE LIKE JACK PALANCE

Van Dyke Parks used a fragment of "Jack Palance" on one of his eccentric albums, "Discover America," which made it seem that either he, or some insane studio musician, was impersonating a lunatic calypso singer. Actually, he was doing an early form of blogging, offering a tease to intrigue people into searching out an artist and buying his work. (He also, on the same album, threw in a plug for The Mills Brothers.)

The singer Van was trying to move: Trinidad's Mighty Sparrow (aka Slinger Francisco). You can learn all about him at his own mightysparrow dot com, where he has a load of CD's to sell to you, but gosh, no mp3 files to give away, just some "real audio" clips instead.

Since "Jack Palance" doesn't seem to be on any of the CDs, let it be a minor theft and serve as an introduction to the flights of fancy from Mr. Sparrow. The song is a cheerful rant that old whores should get off the street and let hotter sluts prevail. One 60 year-old broad in particular has Mighty shaking his head, 'cause she's SO ugly she looks like...

...But on the positive side, a whore who looks like Jack Palance and can still find someone willing to pay to do one-armed push ups on top of her, must be doing something right. Sparrow says, if the street is narrow, and her ugly old barrow is truly in the way..."move! Step aside and give your daughter a chance!"
MIGHTY SPARROW - JACK PALANCE

ELVIS COSTELLO SINGS IAN DURY

You might remember the "Stiffs Live" tour...the beginnings of so many great acts, many now forgotten, a few still having some cult status, and one or two still big stars. Elvis Costello, even with so much original material, liked to cover other artists, and even Stiffs such as Nick Lowe and Ian Dury.
"The Roadette Song" actually goes back to Ian's early group, Kilburn and the High Roads. Any band fronted by Ian Dury was sure to have some weird groupies, and the High Roads had some Roadettes: "She can roll her shoulder, she can roll her ass. Ain't no doubt about it, she's a gamey lass..."
Apparently back then, Elvis attracted a Roadette or two as well. A live track copped from a vinyl boot.

ELVIS SINGS IAN

INNUENDO SMUT: "LET'S DUET" Cornporn

What a rarity; a subtle dirty song. That's "Let's Duet," a cute and corny bit of crassness that turned up in the docu-parody film "Walk Hard." This pun-filled toss-off co-written by Judd Apatow had modest success in theaters, and probably the same indifference in the DVD release, but it's worth your time, if you like comedy that doesn't take itself or its target too seriously.

One of the musical highlights in this fractured factual fairy tale of some legend crossed between Johnny Cash, Roy Orbison and "The King" his own self, is the moment when Dewey Cox (plenty more dick puns where that came from) joins his lady love for a "let's do it" duet. She sounds a bit more like Nancy Sinatra than June Carter Cash, but that's part of the fun; you can bring your own set of musical references to the film and to the songs. The opening line could, if you feel like it, be considered a nudge-nudge and wink-wink to "Throw mama from the train...a kiss," more than any derivative of Ruth Wallis or Benny Bell.

"In my dreams you're blowing me...some kisses."
"That's one of my favorite things to do."
"You and I could go down...in history."
"That's what I'm prayin' to do with you."

Let's leave it right there, and let you enjoy the rest of the dirt in this ditty. Check out the film, buy the soundtrack, or just go find someone and play this song as inspiration and foreplay.
Let's Duet
Download or listen on line. No capcha codes. No porn ads. No percentage going to the blogger for his "hard work." The hard work was done by the artist.

DINGLEBERRY BLUES & HERSHEY HIGHWAY biker joe warren

The only reason there's dirty ditties on this site, is to get traffic.

While here, and foraging for more filth, people may just take a moment to check out Martin Briley, Bobby Cole, Ron Nagle or Sarah Kernochan.

Yeah, right. To use Colin Quinn's catchphrase, "That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!"

If you're not sure about downloading songs with such titles as "Dingleberry Blues" and "Hershey Highway," here are some sample lines:

"Look here bitch, that shit's makin' my mustache itch. Go on slut, get in there and wash your butt...Well I got one stuck in my teeth, another one caught in my eye, I got one under my fingernail and I put it back in the pie..."
And
"Do you ride that Hershey HIghway? We've already done it your way, let's do it my way...Some girls don't like it but the others think it's really a hit. But what I don't understand is how them faggots can do it when it hurts me just to shit."

Who'd record such things?

It was Biker Joe Warren, who never got to be a household or outhouse name, like David Allan Coe. Good taste and bad breaks (and maybe bad brakes) did him in. He was always living dangerously. A patriotic redneck, he joined the Army, served in Vietnam, and nearly got himself killed, earning a Purple Heart and a Silver Star.

Back home in '69, Joe ended up doing two years in prison for holding less than two joints of weed. In '71 he began his career as a singer and songwriter, but it sputtered out of control, and so did Joe. Between near-lethal accidents and trying to make a living, he slipped in and out of show business, finally making some kind of dent in 1985 when his lone indie album of filth was released.

More ups and downs followed, and a decade later, he was still hawking the same album, re-issued...and still having hard luck. In 1996 another serious accident laid him horizontal for months. Not long after he recovered, he was knocked more than horizontal by an 18 wheeler. This time, he would rest six feet down.

The legendary Biker Joe is a cult figure, and you can literally buy a cult figure of him, as well as t-shirts, memorabilia, and music by going over to: http://www.bikerjoe.com/order.html. In the meantime, sample some of his shit:
Dingleberry Blues/Hershey Highway

Update: Nov, 2011. Rapidshare's annoying "30 days without a download kills it" policy killed the original links. They are back via a better company.

Dingleberry Blues
Hershey Highway

Download or listen on line. No capcha codes. No porn ads. No percentage going to the blogger for his "hard work." The hard work was done by the artist.

DIRK HAMILTON How Your Urine Hits the Sink

Over at Elektra in 1978, they thought they had the second coming of Van Morrison in Dirk Hamilton. Or another "new Dylan."

The lyrics for title track "Meet Me at the Crux" were scribbled all over the back cover. The idea was that anyone browsing the album would be awed by the song's edgy profundity.

The song opens: "Horace Tidas was murdered by the hatred that he leveled on himself. Guilty weighted, he walked around pretending he was somebody else..."
A while later, Dirk focuses his attention on an exotic dancer in a bar:
"Blame your mama. Egg a duck. I'm watchin' what your doin' and what your doin' sucks. It ain't bad timin' it ain't bad luck. When will you Meet Me at the Crux."
(Yes, ala Dylan, Dirk invented his own punctuation.)

A woman who seemed to know Horace Tidas: "She's blind but she sure can feel. She's crippled and she reverently kneels, in thanks for the new pair of wheels he got thrown in with the deals that he maimed her to seal."

This leads to another Dylanesque put-down of the woman with the sucky occupation:
"I'm watchin' your behind, out on the dance floor shakin' at eye level all the time. Stop and take a breather. Let me freshen up your drink. Explain to me in detail how your urine hits the sink."

If you aren't gettin' it all, Mr. Jones, then listen to the download several times.
Vincent Price, in Tallulah Bankhead's dressing room, watched her pause in the midst of the conversation to hoist herself onto the sink and piss. Since it was Tallulah, Vinnie was hardly shocked or surprised. He didn't go into detail how her urine hit the sink, but he did make note of this unusual event.

Other songs on Dirk's album include "Mouth Full of Suck" and "Billboard on the Moon," and his follow-up disc featured "Moses & Me" and "Colder than Mexican Snow." Challenging stuff, no? Dirk may have left Elektra scratching their heads, but he's kept sharp, with many more albums. The full details are on the dot.com bearing his name.

This intro-Dirktion could mark the beginning of a new artist you'll want to start following and collecting. If so, you can leave a thanks in the comment section. You can also use the comment section to explain in detail how your urine hits the sink. NEW LINK
Urine Luck! Dirk's a Click Away NEW LINK
Dirk's a pisser

OH! OH! OHHHH! Here's...ORGASM SONGS!

Women who fake orgasms...what music they make!
In nature, a coo, croon or cry can signal that the female animal is ready for sex...and with a low growl or a high screech, enjoying it!
So it is, that we sophisticated humans get turned on by sounds in music...including nicely faked moans and groans sailing over slimy strings or hard-blowing brass.
In the shellac era, a blues moan or a Mae West "mmm" could signal rising passion. Radio tunes hinted at the Big O in subliminal ways, everything from the "music" going round and round "oh-o oh oh, oh oh...and it comes out here" to an insistent "Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, how you can love."
Finally the rock era made it explicit.
Many consider "Little Girl" (by John and Jackie) to be the first intentional, no-doubt orgasm song.
While there were some pretty suggestive Big Band tunes, and such gruesome lounge items as "Baby, It's Cold Outside," there's no question that Jackie's "uh huh" and "ah ha" utterances were reached by pressing a certain button.
The song's airplay was limited, since rockabilly corn was rarely successful in urban markets, nobody knew who this duo was, and John's dopey singing doesn't exactly explain Jackie's enthusiastic response...unless she's showing off her combination vibrator-pogo stick for him: "Oh, oh, OHHHH!" Boing, boing...BOIINNNNG.
We'll leave you to grumble that Jayne Mansfield's 'That Makes It" was sexier, or even Stan Freberg's classic "John and Marsha," but we'll start off the phony groan festivities with "Little Girl," one of the first "Hey...she's having an orgasm or something" records to be heard on AM radio. There would be no serious competition until 1968 when a French import scorched the airwaves.
Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin were most certainly banned by some radio stations for "Je T'aime...Moi Non Plus," which loosely translates as "You came? I'm non-plussed!" No? Then I have no idea what these two Frenchies are mumbling about. And it doesn't matter; there's no denying that Jane is beginning to get an eye full of Serge's tower, which causes her to sing an octave out of her register. This leads to some ridiculous gasps and some satisfied moans.
The French knew how to gasp with class. On the muckier side of the pond, R&B and soul acts have always been more overt with grunting and suggestive lyrics. Narrowed down to three choices...you get "Love to Love You Baby" from Donna Summer, "Throb" from Janet Jackson, and "Make it Last Forever," a 1978 track by Donna McGhee. All three seem to act like they are SO in love with YOU they can't help masturbating while they sing. Is that a bad thing? You'll harden while McGhee starts melting: "Oh baby, so good...oh baby...don't ever stop...ahhhh...yes! Baby! Ohhh baby I just want you to love me..."
So far we've talked about orgasm songs that actually have lyrics. Next samples? Pure moaning!
"Please love me," a woman creaks at the start of "Please Love Me: Erotica" by the chauvinistic band Manpower (the band's original name was simply Man). She's lubed after that, and the Eurotrashy sleaze-beat instrumentals, heavy on drums and heavy-handed lead guitar, serve as backing for her soppy ocean of emotions. She exhales, grunts, moans, and generally acts like a one-woman soundtrack for some really bad Georgina Spelvin movie of the day (about 1970). It's much better than actual porn soundtracks, or such dubious porn singles as "Theme from Deep Throat" by "Linda and the Lollipops."
The Latino version of helpless groans turns up on the 1972 hit "Jungle Fever" by The Chakachas. Also clocking in at around four minutes, the music is mostly congas and a few irritatingly repetitive notes that might be the band's aural interpretation of a woman tweaking her clit. The music periodically stops so the girl can yap variations of "Ai...aii...ai...no...no..no...ah si, ah si, ah si."
Some scholars say that one reason The Chakachas's music is so much less convincing than most any track from Perez Prado or Xavier Cugat, is that they weren't Latino at all, just a bunch of Belgian bozos who went into the studio and assumed any name or identity they were given. When the song was so big that a touring band could make some money, the more authentic band Barrio was called in and told to call themselves The Chakachas. It's been said that The Chakachas are also El Chicles, the guys who gave us the incredibly stupid "La La La," which sounds like the Muppets trying to be erotic. Instead of "Mah na mah na," it's two idiots moaning, giggling, and otherwise repeating "la la la" as if they've literally gotten their knickers in a twist. Both the Chakachas and Chicles had producer Roland Kluger and arranger Willy Albimoor involved, and those ain't Latino names.
By the 70's, and most certainly into the 80's, orgasm songs had become routine and plentiful, with The Runaways offering mocking gasps, Meatloaf working a girl into gravy for "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" and any number of other rude rockers or rappers spelling it all out with cuss words. Samples of the modern era for you:
You get Major Harris singing an R&B ballad "Love Won't Let Me Wait" with increasing if incongruous interruptions from a moaning girl, the meandering mewlings of Aphex Twin's "Windowlicker" (a noisy clunk of electronics and disco), and the equally freakish moans (or stomach ache gasps and mucoid vomiting) that turn "White Christmas" gooey, as performed by The Gerogerigegege. Lastly, "Infinity," a pretty severe parody of all the "I'm Coming" gasp tunes out there, as performed by Aphrodite's Child. From the sounds of it, be glad you weren't at the recording session.
ORGASM SONGS

Update November 2011: "Please Love Me Erotica" has been re-upped individually via a better service:

PLEASE LOVE ME via MANPOWER

MARILYN CHAMBERS sings BENIHANA

On April 12th, Marilyn Chambers was found dead in a trailer park, at age 56. She was a pioneering porn star, back when a deep throat or energetic body could make up for a B-cup, horsey face or bad legs. It was also back when there was some effort to actually make a movie that had a plot, dialogue and acting.
What Marilyn had going for her was an angelic face (as you see from the much re-touched Ivory Soap box) and a lot of enthusiasm. She was arguably the most athletic of the early 70's actresses, and seemed to enjoy getting down and dirty (to the point of marrying Chuck Traynor, the guy Linda Lovelace had accused of taking advantage of her and forcing her into porn).
Marilyn, along with Linda Lovelace and Georgina Spelvin, paved the way for prettier, or more full-bodied actresses (notably Andrea True, Tina Russell, and Annette Haven). Still, those three were the ones who made the classic films ("Behind the Green Door," "Deep Throat" and "Devil In Miss Jones") and many are still more turned on by those films and actresses, than today's shaved and siliconed mannequins.
Chambers was one of the more active porn stars in defending and validating her industry. She was also one of the few to effectively appear on stage in a live sex show (one of them was filmed for posterity). She went on to a typically spotty career of comeback films, personal appearances, and behind-the-scenes (straight) jobs given to her by porn industry vets and fans, etc. etc.
But that's not why you're here...you're here to hear!
Marilyn Chambers' "Benihana" disco tune is at the same level as Andrea True's "More More More" and Xaviera Hollander's "Michelle." In other words, she's better at gasps and a cry of "Give it to me, yeah," than singing. Her singing voice is a lot like her body...thin but pretty flexible.
No, the song doesn't seem to have anything to do with the famous Japanese steakhouse chain. It most likely refers to her vaginal rosebud. "Benihana" means "red flower" in Japanese.
Don't dismiss the song after just one minute...consider it aural foreplay. The song builds some momentum as Marilyn ad-libs some lines and starts groaning. Stay for the last ridiculous minute when she starts hyper-ventillating and an echo chamber zooms her into orgasmic orbit. Chambers has swooped the planet, but her films, and perhaps even this hit single, can still bring you to a form of heaven.
BENIHANA Marilyn Chambers

FOREIGNERS in the whore HOUSE of the RISING SUN

Why do so many people identify with whores? They love to sing "House of the Rising Sun!"
Literally hundreds of females have wailed about workin' in a New Orleans bordello, as if they ingested enough semen to get flood relief from Fema.
Even worse, hundreds of MEN have likewise belted and brayed about being bothered, bewildered and buggered by anyone who wanted 'em to bend South while getting poked up North.
Folk song hunter Alan Lomax recorded Georgia Turner singing it in 1937, as "Risin' Sun Blues," and the bawl about balling kept on rolling, with some claiming credit for the lyrics, the music, or both. Dave Van Ronk perfected the right version...and as Suze Rotolo noted in her book about Bob, was mighty peeved when young Mr. Dylan decided to stick the song on his debut Columbia album. Dave couldn't sing the tune after that, 'cause he was accused of "stealing from Bob." Dave had the last laugh. When Eric Burdon copied Bob's, and had a hit with it, Dylan had to drop it, too!
Burdon and The Animals turned the song into a real rocker, with that famous opening guitar riff (or arpeggio, if you want to get technical) by Hilton Valentine, and the scorching organ of Alan Price...not to mention Burdon singing as if his organ was scorched, too. Many earlier versions credited whoever "adapted" it as the author, but when Alan Price ended up with the credit, rather than all the band members, there was much chagrin, especially when the tune became almost as big a perennial money maker as "Whiter Shade of Pale" or "Yesterday."
In placing "House of the Rising Sun" #91 on his list of the "1001 Greatest Singles Ever Made," ex-Rolling Stone scribe Dave Marsh, noted the gay problem with bleary-eyed Eric:
"Burdon...brattish spawn of Newcastle coal miners that he was...turned the lyric around, portraying the prostitute as a male and, thus, himself as a catamite."
Marsh, and most others, reject the musicologists who say that the song is only about a prison...and that the singer didn't lay for a living, just laid one person low.
But no, if you look it up, "catamite" doesn't refer to a prison inmate, or a little insect on a feline. "House of the Rising Sun" sounds more like a bordello than a prison and that's how most singers relate to it.
But that's not why you're here. You're not here to hear the White Man Burdon. No, this blog is too ill to offer famous English versions of the song. Instead, your download is...FOREIGN LANGUAGE versions.
Russian whores. Italian whores. German whores. Spanish whores. And more.
All of them bellow through herpes-riddled lips and have to stand up to sing because of nether-holes as prolapsed as a Slinky going down a stairway.
You get Johnny Hallyday singing in French and German, plus French singer Marie Laforet singing in Japanese, and...Boris Brown, Manfred Krug, Anatoly Savenkov, Bisonti, Alazan, Bruno Lomas, Sukachev, the appropriately named T. Hors, Vadim Kosogorov, Pataky Attila, Manfred Krug, Frida Boccara and much more..."La Casa Del Sol Naciente," "Es steht ein Haus in New orleans" "Dom Voskhodjashhego Solnca," "Le Penitencier" and more!
FOREIGN HOUSES OF THE RISING SUN

BOOBS - The Bob Dildyn Theme Hour

Bouncing back with yet another hour of amusing musing and music, the reclusive Bob Dildyn has a fresh podcast, and it's about BOOBS.
If you've heard the previous volumes, on CUNT and SHIT, then you know what to expect. This show's a bit lighter than the others, with Bob in a more buoyant mood. The topic of tits inspires enthusiasm...especially when the special guest is JOAN BAEZ.
Sort of. The Baez interview, like previous ones with Leonard Cohen, Madonna and Paul Simon seems to involve splicing the celeb's voice to answer unlikely questions. Ms. Baez, you didn't really say such rude things...did you?
It's hard to keep track of the titles...some are full tracks, a few are excerpts, but definitely in the mix are: My Boobs are OK, Itty Bitty Titties, Titties and Beer, Ass and Titties, Bounce Your Boobies, Mama's Got Her Boobs Out, Knockers Up and Boobs.
Plus some guy lecturing about breastfeeding, a Britney Spears parody "Make My Boobies One More Size," a milk commercial from The Cowsills, and the Bob Dildyn original lyric "Double D Cup Hooters" (the melody seems suspiciously similar to one from the original Bob).
And the girl in the photos? Why, Adriana Lima, of course, who starred with Dylan in that infamous Victoria's Secret commercial a few years ago.
PS, look for Bob Dylan "Tell Tale Signs Bootleg 8" in stores and on line next month. If there's any similarity to the hours from Bob Dildyn, it's that the collection is a confusing hodge-podge of released, unreleased and live tracks put together in a way that only makes sense to Bob himself.
BOOBS (PART ONE, Half hour)
BOOBS (PART TWO, Half hour)
Not a Bob Dylan Theme Hour...a big bold podcast from BOB DILDYN.