ILL-USTRATED SONGS #49 "I Like Germany" Sapristi, Christie, Who Doesn't??

 

Sapristi! When you're a middle-aged middle-of-the-road singer trying to squeeze Euros from the EU, you do what you can. That includes pretty propaganda songs, even about a country that tried to conquer the world twice in the 20th Century, caused millions of dollars in damages, murdered millions upon millions of people (in their own country) as well as millions trying to save the world from their insane racism. 

But...LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT THE WAR(S). As Michael Flanders liked to say, you can say anything you want about the Germans, and who doesn't, but that was a fine song, (the National Anthem), "German German Overalls." 

Know Tony Christie? What last name does that represent? Never mind, he was born Anthony Fitzgerald, and he damn well wasn't going to make a career out of reprising Harry Lauder songs, or trying to make everyone cry with "Danny Boy." His career took off in the 70's when he sang about American cities: "Las Vegas" and "Is This the Way to Amarillo?" Well, it was the way to get people to care about just another guy no different from Al Martino, Paul Anka or Vic Damone. 

There was a limit to just how much USA patronizing his home country could stand, though. In 1976, his hits not coming too quickly, he offered "The Queen of the Mardi Gras" -- hoping to represent the United Kingdom in the annual horrible Eurovision show. He didn't quite make it. And, no, America didn't jump at the chance to have a Brit from Sheffield sing a Louisiana song for them. 

As no less an authority than Wikipedia will tell you, "Although his popularity waned in his native England through most of the 1980s and 1990s, he maintained a successful singing career in continental Europe during this period. This was especially so in Germany." That might be a grand reason to do for the Germans what Eric Idle did for the Chinese. 

Eric Idle's 'I Like Chinese" is really not as humorous as Tony's ridiculous ode, "Germany." As Randy Newman did with "I Love L.A.," but not taking it seriously, Tony recites some lists of great things about Germany. Somehow he left out antiSemitism, Merkel destroying her culture with greedy moronic thugs pouring over the border, and old fashioned Germany stupidity via Covidiots refusing to wear masks (and protesting en masse, which is something even Florida's vast army of assholes wouldn't have done). 

Oh well. Despite what they did (and the Italians the Japanese) we try to forgive if not forget. Yes, it's a bit strange that the Germans got behind Hitler the way they did, and loved him for scapegoating the Jews the way he did. But then again, we have Trump, who has millions and millions of jeering, violent, nasty followers who love how he scapegoated the Mexicans and is so obviously into White Supremacy.

"If I'm Being Honest," this wonderful tune "Germany" is hardly a new song. It was simply new to ME, having discovered it while pawing through Tony's albums, looking for the one that had a cover version of a song by a friend of mine. Frankly, "Germany" was the real prize. 

"Wonderful cities! Nice people! Good beer! Believe it not, I like it a lot -- when I'm here!

I like to be --- in GERMANY  --- being here means every time something very special to me! Whether Hamburg or Frankfurst, Cologne or Berlin, all the lovely places I've been! I always meet nice people...everywhere...AND THAT IS WHY I'M FLYING HIGH!"  

Good lord. That's not pandering. Panzering...subtle as a German tank.

To say something nice about Tony, he's a reasonable looking chap, sings well, and has admirable tenacity when it comes to trying to remain relevant. About ten years ago, he strayed from the middle of the road to work with Jarvis Cocker and Roisin Murphy, and record for the Acid Jazz label. He's also lent his time to high-profile charity causes, including things not related to Germany, like raising money for Barnsley Hospice and the Conisbrough Music Festival. A fine, fine fellow. 

And anyone who likes Germany should like Tony Christie!

GERMANY! (What's not to like) Download or Listen on Line

 

"I'M NOT GOOD LOOKING" the "WOMANFACE" Misogynist Ridicule from James "Fat Turd" Corden - song by WALTER STONE

HA HA HA..."I'M NOT GOOD LOOKING" DRESSED AS A WOMAN...

HA HA HA...wanna see who would be laughing if fat, pig-faced un-funny James Corden dressed up in BLACKFACE instead of WOMANFACE?

Interesting isn't it? Somehow, it's not ok for a comedian (a good one, such as Jimmy Kimmel, or Billy Crystal or Darrel Hammond) to take advantage of make-up technology and do a really good impersonation of a Black celebrity. No no. You are not BLACK so it's OFFENSIVE.

But it's OK for fat, pig-faced un-funny James Corden to make fun of women by mocking what makes them feminine?

Let's see him do BLACKFACE like that. Or REDFACE. Or YELLOWFACE. But because he's an effeminate disgusting talentless twit who has a morbid need to do drag, that's...funny. No, it doesn't look that funny. Not even clown-funny. It's insulting.

Cordon is just the fetid uncircumcized tip of the dickheads. There's homos mincing around in grotesque parody of womanhood on RuPaul's Drag Race, a huge hit. The idea is to wear some of the most stereotypical sex-object outfits imaginable, and if you're not fugly enough and ridiculous enough, "sashay away." How many women do you know who SASHAY away? About as many as blacks who spend their lunch hour chowing on fried chicken and watermelon?

Somehow, DRAG LIVES MATTER. The fabulous #METOO movement isn't demanding that this totally "inappropriate" and un-PC garbage SASHAY AWAY from cable TV. As ugly and demeaning as it is, it STAYS. Maybe because homos can kick cunt around the block, and not even get aroused by it. So watch it, ladies. The drag queens are a lot tougher than you are.

You might think that Walter Stone's "I'm Not Good Looking" was merely used to tee off on fat, ugly, un-funny drag-happy James Corden. Well. YES. One good reason for it, is that James Corden is fat, ugly, un-funny and drag-happy, and what he and other garish female impersonators do is obnoxious. You want to be effeminate, which is bad enough, go ahead, if that's who you are, Nancy, but don't PAINT YOUR FUCKING FACE too. Not in WOMANFACE. As a clown maybe, because that is what you are.

All right. One last point needs to be made. I don't know diddly about "Walter Stone." But I sure filled up a few paragraphs, didn't I?

The totally obscure rockabilly singer Walter Stone managed to get a song pressed on an indie label, and apparently worked the Thunderbird Club in Indianapolis circa 1967. With such a fine song title, it’s not surprising that local disc jockeys then, and cult-oriented indie-radio disc jockeys today, would dedicate this song to a particular person they hate.  Or, they’d get a request from someone to “Please play this song, and dedicate it to Hans…” or Christian. Or Anderson. Or fat un-funny pig-faced James Corden.

So here you are: “I’M NOT GOOD LOOKING,” which you can download and send to your favorite gruesome-looking jerk. That includes Corden. “Here, Pudgy Jim, you’re not only un-funny and un-talented, and couldn't possibly have succeeded in Carson's era or when late-night hosts had to actually have a million+ viewers... you’re NOT GOOD LOOKING. That’ll do, pig.”

I'M NOT GOOD LOOKING! Walter Stone 

Equalizer Version (a bit louder, and via Mega)

BLOGGERS FIDDLE WHILE RANDY BURNS

Another artist with albums that could bring him some money, is instead on his knees, on the GoFundMe page:

In the human body, cells go out of control and become destructive. These are cancer sells. On the Internet, people go out of control and become destructive. These are bloggers. 

Just maybe, just MAYBE, Randy would have had some extra savings in the bank if his early major label record albums were given attractive CD re-issues. But we know that re-issue labels have faltered and failed because piracy is rampant and the Internet culture has declared "music should be free." I found, having pitched re-issues (with bonus tracks) for some of my well known singer-songwriter friends, that the answer at the labels became, more and more, and then permanently, "No, we can't even break even anymore." 

When the re-issue label needed only 500 to 1000 copies to make it worthwhile for all concerned, the deciding factor was often "how many blogs are already giving away downloads," and how many FEWER people would have followed the blogger's rote remark, "if you like it, buy it." How about leave it alone so there's buyer demand? How about posting ONE song only, so that people might actually take a gamble that the rest of the album would also be good? 

Bloggers have been giving away Randy Burns for years...and we're talking about someone who ain't McCartney, and doesn't have, obviously, a huge bank account so that piracy doesn't matter...

You get the idea...the excuse used to be that posting whole albums on Elvis or Buddy Holly didn't hurt anybody but the "BAD GUYS" who run the evil record labels. Then EVERYBODY became fair game. As in "my blog can beat YOUR blog," and "hey everyone, look at ME, look how many comments I get, it's like I'm in the music business! I'm so KEWL! I'm The Music Man, dig? I use a password so nobody can steal MY hard work, I hide my links so bots can't remove them, and I'm now using Filecrypt because I get royalties. PS, gimme a Paypal donation!"

It's gotten to the point where no excuse is needed for downloading entire albums or discographies. It's just...the Internet. It's lawless. Ho ho. Go to a forum or a shoutbox and if you don't see what you want, say "Anybody GOT?" Somebody will help, because the important thing is for everyone to save money on music and spend it on beer. So far there's no way to anonymously download beer via the Internet.

 On Randy’s website, http://randyburns.net/music.html he has a few of his newer CDs for sale. NOT “sharing” as free downloads. Gosh, why is  THAT? He’d like to get PAID for his work? But there are anonymous people relentless upping and re-upping even the obscurities of Randy Burns, making it impossible for authorized re-issues, with bonus tracks and researched CD notes, to EVER get made.

But some guy in Redneckville who can't get laid and spends all day adding to his whole album blog,  or some nobody for whom English is a second language, and who can barely say "I do this for FUN," they know better, huh? They figure that not only should Barbra Streisand be pirated because she's got money, but hey, do Randy Burns and his colleagues, too, whole albums, because...uh, because...because record store owners shouldn't own a business they love and be able to "talk music" to real music loving music buying customers? They should sell t-shirts or smoothies instead? That's as "logical" a reason as any. Maybe. 

 My experience, in actually BEING in the music business, as well as knowing plenty of musicians as well as blogging, is that maybe 5% of artists don’t mind their entire album being given away. This is usually the case of an album "lost" due to some complicated rights issue. For example, I know of a woman who got an indie re-issue on CD. She was proud. It was well done. Great album notes. It sold out its printing of 1000 copies. Guess what, because she didn't own the music (Universal, owner of MCA and Decca did), she had no say when Universal REFUSED to license another 1000 copies. Who knows what they were thinking. Maybe, "Hey, if they sold 1000 so easy, let's charge them DOUBLE this time." Whatever, she is one of the artists who would rather people get her stuff free than not at all. But that's the small 5%. 

Most artists don't like the parasites on the Internet, but are afraid of being hacked and harassed for “spoiling the fun" by complaining. They also know how easy Google makes it to get another blog, or for people to hide in obscure forums, or to use torrents based in Putinville. "It's whack-a-mole," they say, knowing the spread of their music can happen as swiftly as a cancer diagnosis telling them they've got parasites eating their healthy blood cells...and that it'll cost a fortune to stop the hell. 

It seems most stoppages of music piracy involve the latest albums by Taylor Swift and that bunch. Don't fuck with Taylor Swift...but plunder Connie Francis. So why doesn't Connie fight back? She’s going to risk threatening e-mails, a break-in, or some other abuse? She’s had enough in her life already, as some might know, and she’s quite elderly now. 

She expresses how she feels about being exploited and used here: HERE IN THIS MESSAGE Too bad that artists such as Connie Francis, or Randy Burns, are like Mom and Pop stores that can't do much against professional shoplifters. They either accept the "shrinkage" and live with it, and live modestly, or go out of business. Or beg on GoFundMe or Kickstarter. 

Randy Burns was on the esp label (they also signed The Fugs and Pearls Before Swine) back when he was playing on the same bill with colleagues Tom Paxton, Dave Van Ronk, Eric Andersen, Phil Ochs and Carolyn Hester. What bloggers can do, in dialing back their abuse and their egotism, is WRITE about the artist, and post one link, or the link to streaming music on YouTube. 

Here's a vintage Randy Burns track. WHEN DAYLIGHT COMES IN EVERYTHING was originally on the ESP album “Evening of the Magician," which is now controlled by CD Baby for sales and streaming, with Randy getting a royalty check. Streaming the songs on YouTube is honest, and so is providing a link, as you see below. It's a lot more ethical than being part of the anonymous jerks who make people shrug "the Internet is lawless...and nothing can be done about it." Is that lack of civility what we need more of, in a world where people yap on cellphones, blast the music all night, let the dog shit on the sidewalk, have graffiti sprayed all over, insult the elderly, use up natural resources and don't recycle, and brag about cheating? 

It's a dark world that accepts corruption. selfishness and bad behavior as the norm. WHEN DAYLIGHT COMES do you notice it's just a little dirtier and grayer than the day before? 

Randy Burns: WHEN DAYLIGHT COMES IN EVERYTHING. A legal link to the music.  Big thanks to those who have given to the RANDY BURNS GoFUNDMe

A big "what the FUCK" to the people who think it's "kewl" and it's FUN and it's "sharing" and it's "loving the music" to toss entire copyrighted albums and entire discographies around via free links and free blogs and free forum memberships. The excuse is the same as the ones chavs use when they steal a busker's hat full of coins and run away with it: "I felt like it. Ha!"

The Last Time we Saw Jenny Darren (on the crooked faux-amateur BRITAIN'S GOT TALENT) + RAY JESSEL

Last time the general public saw Jenny Darren perform, it was on "Britain's Got Talent," the show that conspires with professionals to pretend they're "amateurs" getting a dream chance to perform in public. 

The all-too-familiar scam has Simon Cowell, tongue-in-cheek, say "go on, this is your chance, let's see what you can do," to somebody who has already had a record deal, or been playing Vegas, or is making a comfy living on cruise ships. Simon is so corrupt, he's even greeted contestants on "America's Got Talent" as strangers...when they ALREADY appeared on "Britain's Got Talent." (A glaring example being Stevie Starr the "Regurgitator," who I remember seeing in Montreal in the late 80's when he was on the comedy club circuit.)

There was even the un-Godly case of a priest called “Father Ray Kelly” who was brought out as a modest amateur. After the audience went wild for him, the tabloids gleefully pointed out he’d been signed to a major label only a few years earlier! He was on the same show as...yes...Jenny Darren. In the clip below, you can see him backstage with Jenny, acting like a nervous newcomer. 

Just as Stevie Starr was familiar to me when he modestly walked onto the "Got Talent" stage, the name "Jenny Darren" struck a rockin' bell as soon as it was flashed on the screen. Jenny Darren? The 70's rival to Elkie Brooks and Genya Ravan? She'd have to be...

When asked her age, she admitted to 68. Asked what she did for a living, Jenny said “I’m retired.” She did NOT say “I used to be a rock singer, signed with DJM, and I made several albums and issued a handful of singles.” The judges...all fine actors and actresses...pretended this elderly“retiree” in the dowdy outfit would be a quick buzz, and not another Susan Boyle or Janey Cutler. 

WOO HOO! Jenny stripped down to biker-leather and started to sing as passionately as old Tina Turner or old Tom Jones!  Want to see for yourself? Take a look at the bullshit set-up, the goggle-eyed “surprised” looks from the judges and the fake-o reaction shots from audience members which were no doubt spliced in. Why do I say spliced in? 

I’ve been at tapings of "Got Talent, and the warm-up guy actually told us, “We’re going to have cameras zero in on various audience members, and sections…to get reaction shots. We do this now when the lighting is good. So let’s get started…when I say three, I want you to all look SHOCKED like you’ve just seen something amazing…great…now when I count to three, I want you to all start LAUGHING, as if you heard the funniest joke...” 

Be one of the TWO MILLION who have seen Jenny on the show...and be one of the TWO MILLION who never bought a song from her and never "supported" her when she managed to book herself into some small local club with cheap admission (or maybe none at all, just please buy a drink). 

Gotta admit, Jenny Darren sounded great, didn’t she? 

It would be naive to expect that she would've signed a record deal off this splashy performance, or that if she did, ANYBODY would actually BUY the CD. Quite a few "Got Talent" winners got a CD deal and were dropped after one release, and many others only self-made discs to sell on their websites...with few bothering. After all, with so much FREE music being given away on the Internet, why spend money that could go to beer and chips, which can't be downloaded? Besides, surely in a forum or a shoutbox, some "kind soul" will answer the "anybody got" request. "Anybody got Jenny Darren stuff? I'm interested, but not enough to simply go on eBay or Amazon and buy. Not even a used copy where the seller runs a charity shop." 

Jenny was put through to the next round but...was kicked off "Britain's Got Talent" when the ever PC tabloids began snooping her on social media and discovered she "liked" some un-PC things on Twitter, and apparently wrote a few anti-semitic things on Facebook. The chaste tabloids refused to quote any of it (unlike, say, Tyson Fury's anti-semitic ravings which never caused a boxing match to be canceled). But really, it doesn't take much for the villagers with their torches to burn down somebody's career and extinguish their hopes. 

Another example? Here you go. Ray Jessel, who, like Jenny Darren, was presented to the public as an elderly, eccentric amateur instead of a longtime PROFESSIONAL. Before he takes the stage, he admits, vaguely, "I only started performing when I was 72." But doesn't mention that he was a successful songwriter and comedy writer -- from the Broadway musical "Baker Street" (with Fritz Weaver as Sherlock Holmes) to the Smothers Brothers, "Love Boat," and the Carol Burnett show, to songs on CDs from Michael Feinstein, etc. etc. 

 What happened to the whimsical-looking Mr. Jessel? 

He sang a novelty tune “What She’s Got” (aka “The Penis Song” aka “She’s Got a Penis.”) It was a simple yock about how he began dating a “woman” who turned out to be a man and guess what, “her penis is bigger than mine!” 

Everybody laughed and the judges happily passed him on to the next round…but overnight the P.C. brigade decided old Ray was homophobic, and being mean to the transgender community for joking about NOT wanting to date a chick with a dick. Oooh. So Jessel was OUT. Instead of a record deal or a chance to play Vegas, the next few months were nothing but some local bookings in California, and flying halfway around the world for the Adelaid Cabaret Festival in Australia. Then he dropped dead.

What was that tune? "VIdeo Killed the Radio Star." Yeah? The Internet has killed just about every music star...aside from rappers, boy band idiots, overtly gay cretins like Sam Smith, obese clods like Adele, and the usual parade of slutty tarts who people want to see in person hoping for a wardrobe malfunction (intentional though it may be). Why go to shows when you can see the live performances on YouTube free? Why buy the music when "cool" bloggers and shoutbox denizens with Banksy-type idiot names will happily toss the shit to ya for a "nice" comment in return? 

The problem with NOT supporting the artists is that eventually there ARE NONE. There's no wailin' Jenny Darren, and no funny Ray Jessel, that's for sure...there's predictable sound-alike pop-rap from Taylor or Miley, and monotonous cursing and whining from Jeezy or Jay-Z or Nipsey or B.I.G. or whoever hasn't been shot. The music industry IS dead; it's now just a zombie landscape with few record labels, thousands of people paying for indie CDs that don't sell, and millions offering their music on YouTube to people who will never find it because everyone can stuff their eyes and ears with audio and video bootlegs of the big stars who can afford to let the parasites steal from them. Some "cool" dudes write, "no copyright abuse intended," ha ha. Others say, "if a rights owner wants a take down, just ask," only a rights owner would be spending every second, nine to five, finding every sneak and trying to get a desist instead of a re-up. 

Jenny Darren would like to still perform, and still have the satisfaction of releasing music before she's called away to meet Ray Jessel. The reply is, what, "too bad, times have changed?" Yep. And you can get "The Time's They are a Changin'" on a free download with just a quick Google. Because Google, who make a million every day, and are the owners of YouTube and Blogspot, are your FRIEND. They just aren't the friends of artists trying to make a living.

THAT OLD OUTLAW...TIME - Bob Nolan one of the Sons of the Pioneers

"Now as I go along, he steals from me.
My way of life. My woman's love. My peace of mind.
If I could see him I'd hit him. If I could reach him I'd kill him.
That old outlaw...Time." 

In 1979, Bob Nolan, one of the original "Sons of the Pioneers," emerged from long retirement to cut "The Sound of a Pioneer." The most gripping song was "That Old Outlaw Time."

A year later, June 16, 1980, he was dead.  

Johnny Cash would later be part of a morbid video for his cover of "Hurt," and in a flurry of activity before his death, cover a variety of grim songs and warning ballads, including "The Man Comes Around." 

"This shadow I can't seem to shake is not flesh and blood. This is a stranger each man faces in his own mind; filling him with fear and doubt. And behind it all, is that old outlaw: Time." 

Karloff couldn't have narrated it better. 

"No way to win...no way to win...against that old outlaw...TIME."

That Old Outlaw Time - instant download or listen online - no password, no make-you-pay Rapidgator crap, no freak website taking you to Spyware-ville

CREEPY BACHARACH #1: “TWO HOUR HONEYMOON” - Paul Hampton

Why the long face, Burt? Is it because you recognize that you look a bit like Paul Hampton and Jeffrey Epstein? 

Epstein died before he could cover some Burt tunes, like "Do You Know a 3-Way in San Jose," "What the world needs now is love...with 14 year-olds," or maybe "Always Pubic Hair to Remind Me." 

Meanwhile, Paul Hampton can't live down the astonishing "Two Hour Honeymoon," which was a pretty obvious attempt to tap into the "Teen Angel" market of disaster tunes. In fact, it arrived (or rather, crashed) in 1960, well before that look-out, look-out masterpiece, "Leader of the Pack." So give credit for the first song to have skidding sound effects. 

In all fairness, Burt is only responsible for the music. The perp behind the sicko lyrics is the performer himself, Paul Hampton. Hampton at the time was not only involved in the music world, he was an actor, notably in "Senior Prom," (which co-starred comic James Komack and had a brief role for Moe of the 3 Stooges). 

As you see, or squint, the single was "arranged and conducted by Burt F. Bacharach." He was responsible for adding cricket noises to denote the desolate area in which the crash occurred.
He chose the slimy noir sax in the background, one that recalls the Mike Hammer theme song “Harlem Nocturne." This was the era when cynical narrators (including Lee Marvin on "M Squad") described life's miseries while cool jazz played in the background.

People who say “that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard, bwaa  haaa haa,” are generally dimwits or limp-wrists. If something is terrible, it’s terrible. That’s all. There’s nothing funny about it. What makes songs like “Tell Laura I Love Her” or “Dead Man’s Curve” fun is that they are not only sincere in their dementia, but turn tragedy into art. Somehow.

The problem with Paul Hampton is that his choked-up sniveling is so unpleasant one doesn't feel sorry for him at all. Within a minute, you wish he'd hurry up and drop dead. Usually, you like to savor the agony (as in the gore connoisseur favorite “DOA” by Bloodrock). At least, if the singer is martyrd and woebegone, like Mark Dinning on "Teen Angel," you feel for him even if you have trouble hiding an amused grin. 

Hampton is over-acting as he lies in the wreckage, grumbling that the timing is so lousy and it's his honeymoon, and that his surviving wife should get on with her life. Imagine if the narrator was a hard-luck country star like Jim Reeves or even Jimmy Dean? How about if it was Don Ameche as John Bickerson?


Burt is still with us at 91, and so is Hampton, at 82.  His schizoid career includes singing (not narrating) the peppy theme song for “My Mother the Car,” and for writing the classic “Sea of Heartbreak,” which has had many cover versions, including the pairing of Rosanne Cash and Bruce Springsteen. Hampton's last album was back in 1974 for Ray Stevens’ bathos-loaded Barnaby Records label, and his last film appearances were in 1992 and 1993 (“Waxwork II” and “The Thing Called Love”).  

You'll not be laughing about it being "one of the worst things" you've heard but such a knee-slapper. It IS an experience, though. You might even want to play it a second time, or send this link to some friends, just to shake 'em up. After that, the honeymoon's over. 

TWO HOUR HONEYMOON - instant download or listen online - no passwords or porn ads  

Ronnie Deauville - he would've been 94 on August 28th

It's a sad story: he had a golden voice. Then he needed an iron lung. Wheelchair-bound, he was promoted by everyone from Jerry Lewis to Ralph Edwards, but the rigors of touring were too much. He remained a beloved member of his family, one who didn't dwell on his misfortunes. And for some discerning record collectors, his music is still beautiful and enduring, right up there with guys who had a more natural career arc, such as Vic Damone. 

The words "crooner" and "gutsy" rarely cross, but they do in the case of star-crossed Ronnie Deauville. Ronnie's "Smoke Dreams" album has one of the most iconic images in the world of "lounge erotic" album covers. Not long after its release, Deauville actually standing and singing was a dream, not reality.

He was born Henry Deauville (August 28, 1925). His mother Marie was an actress and his sister Sheryl also tried show biz (notably playing a hooker role in "Irma La Douce"). Ronnie became the star of the family, the big band singer for orchestras led by Glenn Gray, Tex Beneke and ultimately Ray Anthony. “Sentimental Me” was a hit in 1950 and “Be My Love” made the charts in 1951. The Ray Anthony "Capitol Collectors Series" CD features Ronnie on "Nevertheless," "Can Anyone Explain," and "Autumn Leaves."

Following all those singles, it was time to go long-play. 1956 was the year "Smoke Dreams" came out. But it was also the year that his dreams went up in smoke. In September of 1956 a car veered into his path, and the impact threw him out of his vehicle and into the street. How could it get worse? While recuperating in the hospital, he was diagnosed with polio. He spent a year in an iron lung.

Paralyzed from the neck down, he fought back, and miraculously regained enough breath control to sing again. For TV appearances, an ordinary chair was substituted for his wheelchair, as in an artfully done TV rendition of "Aloha 'oe," where romantic Ronnie is viewed in a sailor cap, seemingly in a cabin on board a boat, sitting at the port hole, dreaming of Hawaiian dancers (double-exposed as nostalgic visions in his mind). Blogger "Dr. Chilled Air" uploaded this to YouTube:

Jerry Lewis helped Ronnie get attention from disc jockeys. Deauville's record label sent out a special single, with Ronnie singing a song, and Jerry on the flip side, talking about this great talent: "December 27th on my TV show Ronnie is going to make his first major singing appearance on television since he was stricken with clinical polio. All the boys at this station are going to cooperate with over 3,000 radio stations throughout the country when, for the first time in the history of radio, on December 28th, and throughout the day, they will play Ronnie's new Era recording. We're doing this as a special tribute to a courageous guy and a wonderful singer..."

On November 6, 1957 Ralph Edwards told his story on "This Is Your Life." Here's the opening scene. Please watch. It's something you won't forget: 

Ronnie's 1959 album for Imperial featured a big close-up of the handsome star on the cover. It would be his last album. "Romance with Ronnie" offered such songs as "Tormented," "Blame Your Eyes," and "Dream Girl." On his smooth cover of "Unchained Melody," he was able to hit the challenging high notes with ease. 

Ronnie did some song-dubbing for movie stars and eventually retired to Florida with his wife and children. He passed away from cancer on Christmas Eve, 1990. His sister has a Facebook page for him, and he stays in the hearts of hundreds upon hundreds who never had a chance to see him perform, or to meet him, but are touched deeply by the sound of his voice. 

Ronnie Deauville sings the classic "LAURA" - instant download, or listen on line.

JERRY YESTER: ASHES HAVE TURNED and the Lovin' Spoonful offender has been sentenced

"He must be high on something" someone said
Though it never made The New York Times
In The Daily News, the caption read
"Save the life of my child!" 

Well...it didn't make the Daily News either. Or Rolling Stone. But it was big news on the website for the local Harrison, Arkansas newspaper. That's where Jerry was downloading, and apparently uploading, the child porn.

"Save the life of my child," could start with the parents:  well, that's all right mama, but you could save lives yourself by NOT taking nude pix of the kiddies and putting them on the Net. Right? 

Where does child porn come from? It comes, to a great degree, from parents exploiting their kids for profit. 

Mama, if you didn't have a litter of puppies and not be able to keep track of them, maybe your 12 or 14 year-old would not have been viewed by Mr. Yester. But let's only blame Jerry: 

Not being as rich and famous as Pete from The Who, Jerry couldn’t get away with “oh, it was research.” '

The question, since he was busted over a year ago (check his name on this blog for that story) was how long it would take for the wheel of justice to run him over. While he waited, banned from playing sappy music with Lovin’ Spoonful at county fairs, he turned up in a few local venues including a hotel. Here's Jerry along with Catherine Reed, performing in Eureka Springs, Arkansas back on November 15, 2018:  

Catherine starts off singing Paul Simon ("Kathy's Song" and "Slip Slidin' Away"), the latter starting off with some chicken impressions and laughs. Don't expect a Judy Henske here, just a smooth-voiced, affable folkie. 

There's slight irony when Jerry Yester is given a microphone for a duet on a song by Simon and Garfunkel's beloved Everly Brothers: "Bye Bye Love, Bye Bye Happiness. Hello Loneliness. I think I'm gonna cry." 

Hello loneliness: last month, a judge officially sent 74 year-old Jerry away for two years. Compare that with a hedge fund weasel named Epstein (now deceased) who also got busted in the Deep South, but had enough money to plea get away with ONE count of “soliciting an underage prostitute.” He got 13 months. He didn’t download, he fucked. Not only did he get a lighter sentence than Jerry Yester, he spent most of each day OUT of his cell, playing unsupervised games. 

Downloading underage porn IS a serious crime. It’s not victimless. It’s not just pictures. Those pictures came from somewhere, and some criminal types took them and profited from them. Some deranged parents may have been involved, too, pocketing the money for meth. Epstein had procurers hunting for 13-14 year old girls that the PARENTS allowed to be taken and used. Polanski, you might remember, found that "model" thanks to her mama.

Some idiots say "why spoil our fun, it's just pictures," but these aren't snapshots from a nudist magazine (ps, eBay bans nudist magazines due to pedophile interest). The young people in these images, certainly ones that aren’t mere poses, run the risk of being both emotionally and physically damaged. But let’s take a look at THIS: 

Here’s a maniac who got NO jail time for what amounts to obscene SCAT behavior. You feed your kids shit? Really? 

By the time the cops found out (they were busy checking on Internet porn downloaders?) the two kids were gaunt, emaciated, and half the weight of normal children their age. NO jail time for her; she just has to stay away from those kids now. Did she sashay out of court with a shit-eating grin?    

What a two-year sentence for Jerry Yester accomplishes, I’m not sure. That he’ll spend a few years risking getting beaten up for being a pedo? Maybe he's an "example" and some dirty old men will be scared about downloading. It would be nice to think so, but people like this have addict-personalities and can't stay away. Some might only do something worse, like pull an Aqualung and hang around a playground.

Yester’s career is already ruined, and when you’re kicked out of a group that doesn’t have John Sebastian and has few original members, and plays shit like “What a Day for a Day Dream,” you’ve sunk very, very low. He’s probably close to bankruptcy, considering how little royalties artists get thanks to download piracy and the official robbery from low-paying pricks like Spotify and YouTube. 

No, I have never met Jerry Yester. Judy Henske and Craig Doerge, yes. While social (disease) media would tell you that Yester's fame is drifting into Lovin' Spoonful, Jerry's real accomplishments are in songwriting, and in the two albums he made with Judy: "Farewell Aldebaran" and "Rosebud" (the latter being the name of the group they formed, which included Craig Doerge, who would replace Jerry as Judy's husband. No hard feelings...a few years ago, Judy and Jerry sang together to promote the re-issue of "Farewell Aldebaran.").

Below, pre-dating Jerry and Judy's folk-psych return to albums (via Frank Zappa's Straight label), here's a solo single from Jerry on ABC-Dunhill. "Ashes Have Turned" is credited to Judy Henske Yester - Jerry Yester,. (The flip side is not something they wrote). If you listen to it a few times it might just become catchy. You might even think, “Hmm, they could’ve resurrected this and stuck it on the "Rosebud" album, as its lush yet slightly sour harmonies aren't too different from “Le Soleil” and a few other tracks. 

Concluding the Paul Simon theme that has run through this entry, think about this line of his: "I wasn't such a Johnny Ace fan but I felt bad just the same." You don't have to be a Jerry Yester fan to feel bad about how twisted things can get when there's a strange, compelling and forbidden psychological need. 

ASHES HAVE TURNED - Jerry Yester, lyrics by Judy Henske - download, listen on line, no passwords, no sleazy foreign download service, no porn ads or malware


update:


According to an Arkansas website, which mentioned him between the report of a redneck chick biting part of her boyfriend's ear off, and a drunk attacking a store owner and running off with pizza-flavored bagels, Jerry was sentenced in July of 2019 to two years in prison, eligible for parole in a year. So, let's see what happens in July of 2020. If anything. A Freudian slip on the website had Yester "disturbing" porn, rather than "distributing" it....

The other criminals also in trouble the same time included...

There’s Old Rick Wakeman and there’s “Young No More” HANK JONES - hear some HANK

Recently, Rick Wakeman performed in concert. Shabby of hair, stubbled of face, sporting a paunch, but still wearing a CAPE and acting like this was the dawning of the Age of Pretentiousness, he dazzled the gawking crowd. Ooo, watta Keyboard Hero! 

What denotes a keyboard hero? Same thing that defines a guitar hero: the ability to play FAST. And wowie zowie, look at all that gear! Dr. Frankenstein in his lab didn't have such cool stuff.

The big problem with keyboard heroes is that they're stuck at the keyboard. Unless you're on the right side of the stage (usually the left side) you can't see their fingers. Maybe you can if you're up in the balcony peeping down, or you're one of that cheering stadium throng of 50,000 who all came to watch TV on a giant screen, because from where you are, the guy on stage is barely a fly speck. 

Interesting that in the world of progrock, there are only two keyboard heroes, really: Rick Wakeman and the late Keith Emerson. They played FAST, LOUD and used synths. Classical and jazz pianists (and even Randy Newman, Elton John and Billy Joel) use an acoustic piano, so they play with nuance and emotion. That's why there are more PIANIST heroes in the music world than progrock synth stars.

After viewing Capeman, and learning he's still alive, and still has devoted fans,  I happened to put the headphones on, and play some miscellaneous jazz. Usually about an hour is more than enough of a fix. Like country, and even classical, jazz can get pretty annoying after too long. That's unlike the music of ELP or YES, which gets annoying after five minutes. 

One piece really sauced my cauliflowers (like the jive talk? I stole that phrase off liner notes on a Spike Jones record). It was "Young No More" by the old and now dead Hank Jones. And it reminded me of what a REAL keyboard hero can do on a Steinway. While synth albums get old for most people, acoustic piano albums remain fresh for a much wider audience. Put it this way, ELP and YES are in the bargain bin. Hank Jones, not so much.

Hank Jones. He might be an obscure name to the average music fan who at least knows about Oscar Peterson, Errol Garner, Fats Waller and Art Tatum. But...

....Hey, you know who was at the piano when Marilyn Monroe sang her ridiculously sultry “Happy Birthday Mr. President” to her fuck-buddy JFK? It was Hank Jones! 


Hank died back on May 16, 2010. He was "Young No More" when people began appreciating him and giving him honors: 1989’s Jazz Masters award from The National Endowment for the Arts (hope he was endowed with a check), 2003’s “Living Legend” award from ASCAP (who care about piracy and royalty payments SO much), and 2008’s “National Medal of Arts.”


Hank’s early career was as a session man and accompanist. He was Ella Fitzgerald’s pianist in the late 40’s and early 50’s, and was support on recordings by Charlie Parker, Wes Montgomery, Nancy Wilson and Cannonball Adderley. He was hired by Savoy to sit on most of the sessions they booked for well known soloists, and his day job for 15 years was working at CBS where he was often called in to back a singer on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” He toured the world doing jazz festivals, and was well liked and respected by his peers, sitting in on dozens and dozens of all-star recording sessions. And yes, he put out some solo albums as well for hipsters in the know. 

IF I’M BEING HONEST, as they say in the U.K., I found “Young No More” pleasant on first listen, but it grabbed me when, instead of background music, I happened to just lie back, close my eyes, and really listen, with headphones. Sometimes with pianists, this IS the way to really appreciate the nuances of tempo, phrasing, and shades of volume. In both jazz and classical, it’s not just about dexterity, but when a piece requires it, whether it’s Chopin, Bach, or “Young No More” (by Frank Metis) it creates a whole different awe. 

“Young No More” starts out with a spooky-cool lope, the bass line recalling Vic Mizzy’s “Night Walker,”  or something out of Vince Guaraldi’s “Charlie Brown” smooth bag of tasty tricks. What’s this? Sounds like Snoopy stalking the Red Baron or something. But after the jeepers creepers, a different gear kicks in, and, as they say, the song begins to swing all over the keys. I mean, SWING. Dance, pirouette, slip, slide, ravel with patterns that seem spontaneous but have mathematical precision. In rock, bassists are handed a solo; here, the bassist works with the pianist, the two instruments like loves, till a drum break separates them, and the song eases back into what someone crude might call a post-coital rest. We often take this for granted when it’s playing in the background at a restaurant. But the way this finger-spider weaves complexity without sacrificing melody is a wonder of nature. And then, as killer-easy as this piece turned into virtuosity, it slid back to the original cool; over and out. 

Not a surprise that “Note for Note,” a documentary on how Steinway makes a concert grand piano, included Hank among the pianists talking tech. The greats are not only technically proficient, and use the finest instruments, they take a supernatural joy and an almost religious devotion to making music that captures a full range of emotion. It’s a rare thing, whether in rock, pop, country, classical or jazz.

So, on July 29, nice to know old Wakeman is still around playing for geezers who still love him, and would even want to waddle onto a cruise ship to see him and pester him for a selfie, and a birthday remembrance to Hank Jones, who would be 101 if he lived to his birthday, July 31. 

Try it with headphones: YOUNG NO MORE - Hank Jones - no dodgy foreign website, no spyware, no porn ads. Listen online or download.

DONALD SWANN sings SYDNEY CARTER: “The Devil Wore a Crucifix”

“Songs of Faith and Doubt” is an odd,  daring title for an album. Religious songwriters are supposed to affirm, with grand conviction, their trust in The Lord. Whether Jesus or Moses or Mohamed, the message is supposed to be clear: How Great Thou Art. Everybody, follow! What's to doubt? Oh ye of faith AND a dash of the realist, who knows this planet is much more than a few thousand years old, and that everything from tiny mites to huge dinosaurs were here before anybody claimed to be God's earthly representative.

Sydney Carter is best known for his songs of faith, not the ones of doubt. His most famous is “Lord of the Dance.” Here in Illville, he’s better known  dark, challenging and satirical songs, which sometimes dare to reflect even an ardent believer's moments of insecurity bordering on atheism. 

In his autobiography, Donald Swann declared he was a conscientious objector during World War 2 because he felt Christ would not possibly condone or participate in war. (Then who started it and why didn't he come down to Earth and stop it?) Carter was also a pacifist, and spent his war years in the Friends’ Ambulance Service, rather than on a battle field. It's possible the two met while on duty in Greece. The 1940 picture below shows, on the right, Carter among his Quaker friends, holding a skull…hopefully not of a soldier who didn’t get treatment in time. 

In the mid 50's, the team of Carter and Swann produced a failed musical called “Lucy and the Hunter.” In his book Swann lamented, “I am sure I have never written anything so tuneful or melodic…”

After teaming with Michael Flanders, and between Broadway dates for “At the Drop of Hat” and “Another Hat,” Swann recorded a 1964 E.P. of Sydney Carter's originals. Carter was far from anonymous at the time. His dark lullabye, “The Crow on the Cradle” appeared on a 1962 Judy Collins album. "Crow" offers not just the creepy symbolism of an ominous black bird observing an innocent child, but a talking bird who, unlike Poe’s raven, is pretty damn specific. If the child is a boy, the crow croaks, “he’ll carry a gun.” If it’s a girl, there will be “a bomber above her wherever she goes.” The crow knows the ending: “give you a coffin and dig you a grave. Hushabye little one…” 

In 1962 Sydney Carter teamed with Sheila Hancock for an album called “Putting Out the Dustbin.” They had a mild hit with the novelty tune “Last Cigarette.” 

Those expecting comedy from Swann, whose Stan Laurel-esque laugh greeted many a Flanders ad-lib, had to be surprised by the E.P. It explored musical territory quite alien to him. As he acknowledged in his liner notes, folk songs are better suited to guitar not piano. His voice is hardly Dylan or Van Ronk, and also not exactly suited to protest or irony. He does attack the songs with more heart and style than Carter himself, whose voice was more hearty than heartfelt or haunting. 

The Devil wore a Crucifix 
"The Christians they are right" 
The Devil said "so let us burn 
A heretic tonight". 

A lily or a swastika,
A shamrock or a star
The devil he can wear them all,
No matter what they are.

In red or blue or khaki 
In green or black and tan 
The Devil is a patriot 
A proper party man.

Whenever there's a lynching 
The Devil will be there.
A witch or an apostle, 
The Devil doesn't care. 

He'll beat a drum in China
He'll beat it in the west 
He'll beat a drum for anyone 
"Holy war is best". 

The Devil isn't down in hell 
Or riding in the sky 
“The Devil's dead” I’ve heard it said 
They're telling you a lie! 

Circa 1965, Carter was briefly signed to Elektra, and recorded his aleady-popular “Lord of the Dance” with backing from Martin Carthy and the Mike Sammes Singers. He would remain best known for this song (adapted from the American Shaker classic   “Tis The Gift To Be Simple” (aka Simple Gifts”) written in 1848 by Elder Joseph Brackett.) 

Carter was amused and surprised that it became such a hit: “"I did not think the churches would like it at all. I thought many people would find it pretty far flown, probably heretical and anyway dubiously Christian. But in fact people did sing it and, unknown to me, it touched a chord. Anyway it's the sort of Christianity I believe in."

People like comfy tunes of faith more than protest songs or Realist ballads, so "Lord of the Dance" has been covered by everyone from God-awful YouTube singers to ebullient church choirs.  One of Carter’s sporadic appearances on vinyl in the 70’s came via an album with “And Now It Is So Early,” in which he performed with the folk duo Bob and Carole Pegg. Phil Ochs fans might know their name, as they were one of the few to cover “The Scorpion Departs But Never Returns.”

Click here for The Devil Wore a Crucifix - no Paypal donation button, no egocentric password encoding, no dodgy Russian cloud server and no links to porn sites or malware

Reflection sings Sydney Carter: “Standing By The Window”

Thank God, or somebody, or nobody at all, Christmas, though less than a month in the past, is now pretty much forgotten. 

One can still get a shiver thinking about all the rotten novelty songs blasted at us, including the irritating solo works by Lennon and McCartney (“Happy Xmas War Is Over” and “Wonderful Christmastime”). There were tedious novelties (“Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer") and billiously cheerful pesterings like “Sleigh Ride” and "We Wish You A Merry Christmas." It was overkill on "Holly Jolly" Burl Ives, the idiotic "Feliz Navidad," and new pains in the ear like self-parodist William Shatner reciting "Winder Wonderland."

Nasty alternative songs have been few.  Stan Freberg, anyone? No. Not at all. You'll hear The Pogues once too often (and twice is too often). Somehow gutter trash from Ireland quarreling in a drunk tank in New York City amuses people. This isn't even an anti-Christmas song, since people LOVE it so much. It's more like Brecht & Weill reeking of corned beef and potatoes.

It would be nice if some alternative radio station or some Spotify playlist slipped in “Standing By The Window,” recorded by Reflection back in 1968. The album is named after the cunning and punning Carter poem, “The Present Tense,” which reflected on our age of anxiety. Spoken with eerie sound effects, it opens the album, which segues into "Standing By the Window."
The male and female leads of Reflection (the name of the group and also their record label!) do a fine folk-rock job mixing desultory verse and haunting chorus. It goes exactly like this, and you can strum along to a simple A minor and G, with a dash of D minor and E: 

No use knocking at the window, there is nothing here for you, sir,
All the rooms are let already, there is nothing left for you, sir. 

Chorus:
Standing in the rain, knocking on the window, knocking on the window on a Christmas day
There he goes again, knocking on the window, knocking on the window in the same old way

No use knocking at the window,  some are lucky, some are not, sir,
We are Christian men and women,  and we're keeping what we've got, sir.
No, we haven't got a cradle,  no, we haven't got a stable,
We are Christian men and women,   always willing, never able.
Christ, the Lord, has gone to heaven,  one day he'll be coming back, sir,
In our house he will be welcome,  but we hope he won't be black, sir.
Wishing you a merry Christmas, we will all go back to bed, sir,
Till you woke us with your knocking, we were sleeping like the dead, sir. 


 Reflection was Sue McHaffie, Mo Brown, Richard Spence, Jonathan Jones, Michael Campbell and Stuart Yeates on vocals. The backing musicians included James Etheridge, Michael Campbell, Colin Wright, Nik Knight and Lionel Browne. The eclectic group also tossed in some oboe (Lesley Bateson), flute (Marion Banks), Cello (Stuart Yeates), and even a celeste (from lead vocalist Sue McHaffie). Despite the somewhat bitter lyrics here, Reflection was a religious record label, and Sue McHaffie appears on two other Reflection releases, “A Folk Passion” (which includes the songs “Come to the Cross” and “Jesus the King”) and “Nativity” which includes “Sing High with the Holy” and “To Jesus On his Birthday.” These were issued in 1971 and 1972.  

The group’s 1968 album of Carter songs did include “Lord of the Dance,” and in the album notes, a shrug that “classification of Sydney Cater’s songs is self-defeating.” Yes, quite true of an album that includes both “Every Star Shall Sing a Carol” and “The Vicar is a Beatnik.” And the stinging track below. Again quoting from the liner notes, “It is the genius of Sydney Carter that his songs have this ability to make us face and question our innermost thoughts and conflicts.”  

While some find comfort in singing “Rock of Ages,” Carter joked about carrying around his “rock of doubt,” (the title of his book). His songs about the hypocrisy of religion made those who loved his lyrics to “Lord of the Dance” feel uneasy. One of the crowns in his thorny canon is “Friday Morning.” The poem first published in 1960 instantly outraged the conservative U.K. politician and one-time Minister of Health Enoch Powell. The Daily Mirror joined in, demanding the poem be banned because of lines such as: “‘It’s God they ought to crucify instead of you or me,’” I said to the carpenter a’ hanging on the tree.” 

The less inflammatory songs of Carter would turn up on “Lovely in the Dances,” a 1981 all-star collection of covers led by the lovely Maddy Prior.  Carter also got some royalties from the comic sewer song “Down Below,” which was recorded by both Ian Wallace (who also had hits with Flanders & Swann novelties) and by Rolf Harris. 

Over these past 50 years, since Reflection recorded their album of covers, it’s mostly been the general satires (“The Rat Race” for example) and the more genial and Christmas-type numbers that have kept Carter’s name alive. His name is alive but he isn't -- born in 1915, he died in 2004 at the age of 88. 

STANDING BY THE WINDOW - no dopey passwords, no creepy "anonymous" download site or Russians, no porn ads, no Paypal donation whining

PETE BEST explained by John Lennon & Paul McCartney - and MONEY

It was a nice day's week for Beatles fans, wasn't it? 

John Lennon was honored with an artless Photoshop-job commemorative stamp (long after Janis and Jimi were given better treatment). Yoko also announced a SIX CD set of outtakes from "Imagine," plus a re-imagined new print of their home movie of the same title. 

Paul McCartney went on the puppy Jimmy Fallon's show, where he teased up his "secret" NYC concert in support of "Egypt Station." EGYPT Station? Sure. Aside from Lagos, Nigeria, who wouldn't want to take a trip to, or promote calm, stable Egypt? A few nights after the Fallon-fawning-fest, Paul played an obscure closed-off room in gigantic Grand Central Station. He got a fairly mild reaction from the torpid 300 people (including the puppy Fallon, Paul's wife, some unimpressed kid standing with his Dad, and one or two people who weren't white). Hype-crazed TV news reporters were in Grand Central standing around, as were some fans ridiculously thinking they'd get an autograph or selfie or something. Usually at 8:30 on a Friday evening the place would've been deserted. The media, of course, insisted it was "rush hour" and there was feverish excitement and throngs of spectators.

Paul also found time to drop by Howard Stern's radio show, where Howard delighted in fawning over Paul and telling him how great "Too Many People" was. He dredged up the nastiness of John in writing the "How Do You Sleep" song, and how Paul topped him. Paul, as he usually does, deflected the put-downs about John with wide-eyed surprise.

In all of this, nobody mentioned Pete Best. Not Paul. Not Yoko. Not the US Post Office. Aside from Paul's mannequins on lead and rhythm guitar (the new album is not WINGS, after all), there was Abe Laboriel Jr. on drums, once best known for his seat of power behind France's superstar Mylene Farmer. But...couldn't Abe step aside and let PETE give it a go?

I remember seeing Pete Best sitting at a memorabilia table, ready to sign something for a twenty. Somehow, I didn't consider getting a signed photo or CD as owning a piece of history. A few tables away was Peter Tork, also signing for the same price. Or not. Neither had a long line of takers. 
 
Below, John and Paul's best interview remarks on Pete, and why he was sacked. It's followed by an example of his adequate but not innovative drumming. Happily, "MONEY" is not just a song title. A few of his tracks with The Beatles did manage to turn up on one of the Capitol re-issue CDs, and since people actually still buy everything Beatles, he got a decent paycheck. Pretty good, at a time when the royalties for almost everyone who made music 50 years ago have petered out. 

Lennon and McCartney talk about Pete Best - then you get MONEY instant download or listen online - no Password or Paypal-donation pestering.

Elvis Costello’s Dad Ross McManus “Patsy Girl” - this Guyana’s In Love with You

      For a little while, Ross McManus was "Mr. Patsy Girl," the guy who hit the charts his first time out. "Patsy Girl" was credit to Ross McManus and the Joe Loss Blue Beats. The HMV single (1964) was the solo vinyl debut for a guy already respected as the vocalist for Loss's very popular big band.

       Born Ronald Patrick Ross McManus (October 20, 1927-November 24, 2011), he was both a singer and  trumpet player for Joe Loss. He took his son Declan McManus (Elvis Costello, born in 1954) to some of his gigs and TV tapings. The kid was delighted to meet all kinds of famous musicians thanks to his Dad and the fame of the Joe Loss group. At the height of Beatlemania, his Dad came home one day with...yes...ALL FOUR BEATLES AUTOGRAPHS. Because the large piece of paper couldn’t fit in his autograph book, ELvis cut each signature out individually to preserve.

      Elvis' Dad was an expert musician who could almost instantly memorize any song. He'd slap a tune on the turntable, get it down, and hand off the vinyl to his son. With budget cover version records becoming popular, Ross moonlighted as a mimic, covering a diverse range of artists. For cheap labels such as ROCKET and CANNON, Ross would come into the studio and knock off a bunch of tracks using different voices. He used different names, too. As Hal Prince, he performed Roy Orbison's "It's Over." As Frank Bacon (backed by the Baconeers!) he sang The Beatles "She Loves You." Ross was the lead voice behind mythical groups such as The Layabouts, The Ravers and The Foresters, the latter specializing in folk music. 

       Ross's background in voices was an asset when his first single came out: a novelty A-side done in a Guyanese accent, backed with a jivey variation on Muhammad Ali (see I'm the Greatest" below).

    Pretending to be “of color” is not PC anymore, but there was quite an arc for it, starting with the minstrels and Al Jolson, and wandering through “isn’t he a black guy?” 78 rpm singles by jazz vocalists Frankie Laine and Louis Prima. In 1964, it was ok to goof around with an accent, and "Patsy Girl" did well. Singing ethnic would remain with us through Sting’s ridiculous “Roxanne” and Peter Gabriel’s offensive “Biko,” which can’t pay tribute to an African without mimicking the dialect. 

    In 1964, did people assume Ross McManus was from Guyana? Did they simply think he was a white guy putting on an accent the way Lonnie Donegan fucked around with hillbilly American voices? Most likely people just weren't as fucked up as they are now, and figured that if somebody wanted to cosplay in another dialect, it was a tribute.

     Ross issued one more HMV single, "Stop Your Playing Around" in 1966, and was signed by Decca for a one-off, a cover of Frankie Valli's "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You." His next and last single, on the Spark label, was a Beatles cover, "The Long and Winding Road" issued under a new name...Day Costello. Altogether now...the DAY would come when another Costello would get a chance at the charts...and come up with hit after hit.

PATSY GIRL - a hit for ROSS MCMANUS listen online or download. No ego type-my-name passwords, no "give me a Paypal tip for my HARD WORK" horse shit.

"I'm the Greatest" - Elvis Costello? No, His Dad Ross McManus as MUHAMMAD ALI

    Back when he was Cassius Clay, and not yet the World’s Champ, Muhammad Ali and Columbia records offered both a single and an album, “I am the Greatest.” He wasn't competing with Joe Frazier as a singer yet. (Not yet; he eventually tried singing via a cover version of “Stand By Me”) On the record and the single, Mr. Clay recited his comic poetry. 

    Clay’s “I am the Greatest” is not covered by Ross McManus, Elvis Costello’s father. This is a completely different tune. The novelty B-side to the novelty “Patsy Girl,” it offers a pretty ok impression of the brash new boxing star. There might be a little too much Ray “Harry the Hairy Ape” Stevens in there, but it’s ok. The number is very much a Louis Jordan-type bop boogie. 

     Perhaps trying to steer clear of a lawsuit, the lyrics don't specifically mention boxing. It's just a coincidence that the singer reference's Drew “Bundini” Brown’s catch-phrase for his pal Ali: “Float like a butterfly sting like a bee,” by doing a bee sting gag. Anyone without a knowledge of the boxing scene (in 1964) or the catch-phrase "I am the Greatest" might just think the song is simplyi about some guy coming on to his girlfriend. 

    This single probably turned up in stores after Clay won the championship from Sonny Liston (February 25, 1964) and announced he was now Muhammad Ali, one of the dreaded Black Muslims.

     Back then, Elijah Muhammad (Ali's spiritual leader) and Malcolm X both spoke angrily about whites (Malcolm being the “blue eyed white devil” guy). Ali was outspoken in favor of segregation, and said he didn't have anything against whites but didn't think it was a great idea for the two races to mingle that much. He was the opposite of Jack Johnson when it came to white women. His wives (he eventually had four, and eight children including a few out of wedlock) all had to be Muslim. He would sign autographs on booklets about Islam so that fans might read and convert.

      Many people, especially "youngsters" (as Ed Sullivan used to say) loved Cassius Clay and his comical brashness. The elders weren't so amused, and many were hoping Sonny Liston would shut his mouth. Or Henry Cooper. Or Floyd Patterson. Or Joe Frazier. Clay played off his loudmouth publicity, intentionally being the showman. He'd been inspired by Gorgeous George, a wrestler whose fame and money rested from being prettier and more flamboyant than the others. As Clay, he even did a photo op with the brash Beatles in Florida. He had no idea who they were, just that it was good publicity. After the "moptops" left, he mused, "who are those faggots?" 

      Becoming a Muslim seriously alarmed people, because that cult seemed dangerous, and some of its leaders, particularly Malcolm X, were spouting a lot of violent and reverse-racist views. Some of Malcolm's speeches were loaded with anti-white, anti-Semitic, and totally nuts re-writes of religious history, portraying Islam as older than Christianity and Judaism. Some of the teachings involved even more bizarre fairy tales than Noah's ark or Adam and Eve. It was only after the deaths of both Elijah and Malcolm that a calmer version of Black Islam evolved. 

      Ali's refusal to be drafted for Vietnam, even if given a cushy job entertaining the troops or being a conscientious objector, led more people to dislike him. He remained a favorite of the younger generation, and of those who reasoned that a guy who could goof with white Howard Cosell, and be trained by white Angelo Dundee, and have white Ferdie Pacheco as his ring doctor, was not racist at all. Over the years, many came around to admiring and even loving Muhammad Ali. He overcame his losses (to Frazier and Norton) and found a way of beating George Foreman against all odds and advancing age. 

      He retained his good humor, and his genuine love of all people could be seen in the way he found time to play with children, do magic tricks, comfort the elderly, and be patient and gentle with the mobs that followed him all over the world. Amazingly, he didn't turn away visitors who came to his Michigan home to say hello or get an autograph, and he also made sure his training camp was open so fans could stop by. This frustrated his wife and his managers and trainers, but it was the way he was; he genuinely respected and empathized with everyone, and unlike Joe DiMaggio and so many other big-named stars, he felt an obligation to brighten the day of the average person, and make a wish come true for those who wanted to shake his hand. 

       He had everyone's sympathy when his health began to fade, and the voice that had brought good will to the world, and good humor to so many, was stilled. He retained his dignity, even with the immobile face and trembling hands, and didn't stop making public appearances. When the 9/11 terrorists and subsequent attacks tarnished the name of Islam, Muhammad Ali issued a statement making it clear that his was a religion of peace, and the Muslims involved were dangerously misguided. Ali prayed five times a day and read his Koran. 

        Meanwhile, back at the download...Whether Ali ever heard “I’m the Greatest” or thought it was funny…nobody seems to know. 


"I'm the Greatest" - Ross McManus instant download, listen online, no passwords or creepy foreign language spyware site to go to

Elvis Costello's Dad does the DC5 - BACON BITS!

You may well ask, "Why is there no mention of DC's actual name here?" 

Because DC is a bit of a git, and he keeps a tight control of his catalog. He always kept tight control over his band, too, and there were complaints about who got the big share of the money. Rightly, he's one of the people rich enough to file complaints when things get beyond "fair use," as they usually do with blogs, forums and torrents. He might figure this is "fair use" but...sometimes people hire BOTS as part of enforcement, and a BOT has no idea and doesn't make value judgments...just automatic bonking. But a name in a photo? Nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more.

Now then. Elvis Costello's father was very successful performing live with the Joe Loss band, touring all over Europe. He was somewhat successful under his real name, issuing a few singles. Well, very few. Three between 1964-1967. He was also in demand as a "cover version" singer, somebody who could sound like a high-priced star. You might recall the game that Promenade and other labels played, of offering THREE songs on each side of a 45 rpm single, allowing pre-piracy music fans the option of hearing their favorite songs six for the price of one. Just not by the original artist. 

As "Frank Bacon," Ross did his best to replicate the DC5 sound. Listen....

BITS & PIECES of Bacon. Actually, the whole song. Listen or download. NO obnoxious Paypal tip-jar request.

DO YOU LOVE ME Bacon version? Don't shrivel away. Download or listen online. No passwords or bullshit "your flash is out of date, DL some spyware" warning

ROE YOUR BOAT: HEY "EVERYBODY" IT'S REALLY COSTELLO'S DAD!

No, that's not Buddy Hackett opening for Elvis Costello. 

Elvis enjoyed paying tribute to his Dad. When a geezer came up to Elvis and said, "Yer not the singer yer father was," Elvis smiled and agreed. 

Ross McManus was certainly a fine big band singer when he was with Joe Loss, but also, a very versatile one. He could sing in a lot of different styles. He was sought after for a lot of lucrative if anonymous work. 

When he died in 2011, some of the obits headlined: "Elvis Costello's Father: Secret Lemonade Drinker." What?

The last part refers to a very popular ad on British TV. It ran from about 1973 to 1981, which could've meant that while Elvis Costello was having a hit with "Alison," his Dad was actually reaching more listeners! 

The singing voice for the pyjama (we're talking England) clad secret lemonade drinker (Julian Chagrin) was Ross's. The odd thing is that Julian doesn't look that far removed from Elvis Costello, or, of course, a young Ross McManus. Connoisseurs of this idiot commercial have noted all the variations on how the guy walks downstairs at night (hushing his curious dog), gets all excited about having a bottle of R. White's, and then gets caught by his wife. There were several different wives including the old comedy legend Frankie Howerd. 

EVERYBODY seemed to have a reason to know and appreciate Ross McManus. This includes Tommy Roe? Well, maybe not. Back in the days of copycat cover versions, McManus used yet another alias for his version of "Everybody" in 1966. Here's "Hal Prince" singing the Tommy Roe song...

EVERYBODY -- download or listen online. No dopey passwords, no creepy German or Russian server or malware