NELSON MANDELA : "MY BLACK PRESIDENT" by Brenda Fassie

The media...the hype-filled, bizarre, manipulating media...has really pushed Nelson Mandela's death into some GLOBAL EVENT.

Even though Mandela's legacy is local, and most of the action is taking place in South Africa, the media has descended with full force to provide literally hours...and hours...and hours...of coverage of every gathering from happy dances of joy over his death, to the lighting of candles and creation of fire hazards all over Soweto, Pretoria, and other places you've never considered a tourist destination.

The goal of the media is to make this slow-news time MANDELA time, and fire up the editorials about oppressive white people (blacks would NEVER be mean to a minority. Nor Japs, Germans or Serbs or Irish or English or Pakistanis...). As the slow, slow days move along (several days mourning he died, several days discussing the funeral, three or four days he'll be lying in state) keep the coverage only on Mandela and forget what else is going on, like Iran's nuclear antics, the latest gang rapes in India, or the bizarre climate change incidents around the world including sudden floods in parts of Great Britain that had never suffered devastation before.

If the goal is to not only cover, but exaggerate Mandela's world influence and prolong this death and burial till everyone goes into a coma, the media has succeeded.

Oh, maybe they neglected a few things...sober coverage of what this guy did and didn't do, for example. Or giving us an example of one of the many songs written and sung about him when he was at the height of his triumph, released from jail and in power.

That brings us to the lady they called Mabrr. She's just one of the many South African (and African) musical artists unknown around the world. It seems that unless the rhythms are stolen and then performed by a Paul Simon (or in tribute to Biko, a Peter Gabriel), there's still some kind of apartheid going on. Oh, just a little irony, that music is free (via air waves or the Internet) but people choose to segregate it. To paraphrase the Claude Rains character in "Casablanca," I am "Shocked...shocked...to find this is going on." Racism is the only possible answer. Don't people realize South African music is JUST as good as any other country's music?

Anyway...Mabrr, better known on a record label as Brenda Fassie, formed "Brenda and the Big Dudes," (although her interest wasn't just in dudes, but in women as well...this is someone who truly believed in equality!). One of her earliest hits was "My Black President," in honor of Nelson Mandela. Ten years later, she made her debut in America, as covered by Time Magazine: "The audience gasped, but Fassie unabashedly grabbed her bare bosom and thrust it at the crowd. "This," she proclaimed, "is Africa!" But America, it seems, was not yet ready for that part of Africa. "The promoters asked me not to do that again," she said afterward. Which is too bad, because back home Fassie is known (and loved) for her outrageousness."

Almost all her albums were platinum in South Africa (you'd think in that country the designation would've been "gone diamond").

In South Africa, 50,000 copies means platinum...but Fassie once sold that amount in a single day (her 1998 album "Memeza").

100,000 to 300,000 was more like it. In May of 2004, she suffered a cocaine overdose and went into a coma. Nelson Mandela visited her in the hospital, but she was brain dead, and eventually taken off life support.

On and off life support in recent years, Nelson Mandela finally died a few days ago, at 95. Hardly unexpected, but this blog MUST join with the entire world in saluting the man who is really just a notch below Jesus and Mohamed in having had a huge influence on the entire world.

Hasn't he?

Of course he has. The fact that he rose from woman-chaser and prison martyr to become President of a fairly unimportant country makes him a world figure. And while Dr. Martin Luther King may have gotten there first in making segregation an issue, and actually died for the cause, well...race is still a problem in the USA. But not in South Africa, right? Mandela didn't just make progress against apartheid by ending up President for a while, he erased it! Didn't he? Isn't that part of the celebration? Has to be. That's why the whole world has to hear about this for ten solid days.

It's like saying that because Obama became President, the United States is now free from segregation, unsubtle apartheid in hiring or not hiring blacks, etc. In the race to turn Mandela's death into a pre-Christmas holiday, the vast amount of racial unrest...affecting ALL races...has been erased from memory like everything on a DELL computer a day after warranty.

Forget about little bumps in the road, like the murder of WBO heavyweight champ Corrie Sanders just last year, September 22, 1021. (Besides, the South African was white, his killers black. So it doesn't count). And forget about the latest hero athlete from South Africa, Oscar Pistorius, who shot his girlfriend through the bathroom door. Heck, just because the guy felt so unsafe in South Africa that he needed a lethal weapon beside his bed...that doesn't mean that Mandela isn't a world-influencing hero or that South Africa isn't the bestest place on Earth to spend your vacation, or end your life.

We're in the midst of a 10 day grief-fest, with tears of joy and shouts of triumph. People are having a great time mourn-ebrating the death of Nelson Mandela, and anyone who does NOT agree this is an event the whole world should be involved in, not just South Africa, is one hell of a rotten realist. If Jackie Robinson died a few days ago, perhaps the media would likewise insist the whole world have a 10 day grief-fest, even if baseball isn't played in every nation on Earth. Why should it matter? Robinson, like Mandela, achieved something for his people, so all people should celebrate it and take a good happy hit off the inspiration bong. Any excuse to party, right?

Celebrate real world figures? Nah. Moses? Let the Jews celebrate him if they want. Jesus? His teachings are ONLY really for fully ordained television ministers who know exactly what that Son of God was talking about. Mohamed? He's for Muslims...you need not pay attention unless a knife is put to your throat by an Islam extremist who expects you to convert or die. But Mandela? THERE'S A KIND OF HUSH ALL OVER THE WORLD...

...Because the man fought apartheid, single-handedly. No help from entertainers who refused to play Sun City. No inspiration from Dr. King. No support from the United Nations. Nothing to do with changing times and attitudes towards blacks around the world...or the fact that for several decades, blacks were being given much more visibility in teaching, banking, and other positions, as well as in politics...and that a guy like Arthur Ashe could be winning on a tennis court instead of sweeping it. Oh...let's forget that a Jewish tennis player can't play a tournament in Dubai at the moment. Just how Mandela, the world figure who cured the world of prejudice, couldn't fix that up...who knows. Who cares. Jews shouldn't play tennis anyway. What do they need it for? Most are employed by the Wiesenthal Center faking holocaust photos.

Still with me? Then join with me in saluting the British press, and the British people, because though many cities over there were just in the midst of a huge downpour and flood...the kind most have NEVER seen before (what, Nelson Mandela didn't also prevent global climate change?), coverage happily turned away from tragedy and toward the Great Mandela Fest. I hear next year's summer rock concerts will be name-changed to Mendelabury. Peter Gabriel will headline, now that he's got to write a song about Nelson, to eclipse the feel-good dirge he wrote about Biko. You know, the one he wrote and sang in a fake African dialect (having left his Jolson black-cork at home).

Hey, fuck the British floods and the people who lost their homes and all the rest of that...or those who lost their lives at 20 or 30, not 95 after decades of doing little except posing for photos and being told "you're great."

Happily the British press knows their priorities. And if they didn't, Photoshop did.

Right now, nothing eclipses the constant coverage of Mandela's death.

President Obama, too overcome to offer up something original, like his catch-phrase about the "audacity of hope," re-cycled Secretary of State Stanton's line after Lincoln was shot: "Now he belongs to the ages." Stanton was pretty good, ad-libbing that at a traumatic time. Lincoln was, after all, shot in the head and still president.

You'd think that after the first hospital scares, and being in his 90's, Mandela's condition would've prompted America's Big O to start thinking up something really good.

Now, Nelson Mandela was a good man. Maybe even a great man. Most don't know how he made it from screwing a lot of women to vegetating in jail for two decades, to becoming President of South Africa. But I'd like to think that a few people know that South Africa is a lousy place to live, and it's on a continent that is a lousy place to live...an ENTIRE CONTINENT that is horribly overloaded with savagery...where women are circumcised, oppressed and attacked. If they didn't have cunts, there would be apartheid against them. The African continent is wild with crazy bands of nuts killing other crazy bands of nuts...tribes warring against each other, and with no white people to blame all the shit on, they go attack anyone who is albino. It's the continent where poverty, caused by over-breeding and by stupidity, is considered an excuse to attack any ship that happens to be within sight of Somalia. There are also excuses to attack and kill people in shopping malls...the few examples of civilization in a land that nobody would visit at all if there weren't lions and elephants and diamond mines.

OK, that's enough. A little too much information and a bit of sacrilege here? It's just a response to a little TOO much coverage of Mandela this week...turning an expected death of a 95 year-old political figure into a junior Kwaanza.

Your reward for reading is listening...to...a download of "My Black President," which is about Nelson Mandela...not Obama. But hey, Obama is irrelevant. No point in changing the world. Mandela did that. And Mandela died at 95 knowing he not only helped his people take a few steps closer to equality...but that his example made blacks in EVERY country on Earth equal and free. Just ask any black in Alabama, Newark, Cleveland, Compton, London, Paris, Dusseldorf, China, Russia... Oh. Russia. They don't let blacks in. They still have apartheid. Also ethnic cleansing. And they're currently torturing a few punk rock chicks who dared to sing in a church. Oh well. Don't let anything stop this week's grief-fest. Reality is that any kind of racial quality or even sanity or tolerance is still a baby step for mankind...even with the efforts of the man named Mandela.

MY BLACK PRESIDENT Brenda Fassie. Her tribute to Nelson Mandela

MISTLETOE MUSTACHE and more: Priscilla Paris and THE PARIS SISTERS

If you like stupid holiday and winter tunes…from "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" to "Baby It's Cold Outside" to "Let It Snow" to "Feliz Navidad" and "Wonderful Christmastime," you'll be delirious over the Paris Sisters and "The Man with the Mistletoe Mustache." You can bet that at this blog, a concession to season's gratings would have to be a truly annoying little Christmas obscurity.

The Paris Sisters, who did have a Top Ten hit in 1961, don't deserve to be as forgotten as they are. Though they did commit the occasional hideous novelty tune or Andrews Sisters sound-alike atrocity, much of their work is as pleasing as The Shirelles, The Ronettes or most any other girl group more likely to be represented on an Oldies CD collection or PBS fundraiser DVD. As they moved from a harmonious homogenized trio to Priscilla Paris and two back up singers, they specialized in super-sweet tracks of pleasing pop. The route to teen-pleasing perfection took seven years.

Priscilla, and older siblings Albeth and Sherrell, literally followed in the Andrews Sisters footsteps back in 1954. Their aggressive stage mother arranged a backstage meeting when the trio came to town. Patty, Maxene and Laverne actually liked the young girls and gave 'em a break…an on-stage chance to sing along with them on their hit 'Rum and Coca Cola." The Paris Sisters signed with Decca that year and issued "Ooh La La." They turned up on the Imperial label in 1957, still imitating the sassy close-harmony stylings of both the Andrews and the McGuire sisters as well as The Chordettes.

It was when they signed with Gregmark in 1961 that owner Lester Sill and one of his top producers (a fellow by the name of Phil Spector) transformed the trio. If you'll pardon the term, the "zeitgeist" at the time was sugar pop; soft and sweet groups such as The Fleetwoods and the Dixie Cups would be topping the charts, along with easy swinging solo artists such as Frankie Avalon, Paul Anka and Annette Funicello. The Paris Sisters scored a Top Five with "I Love How You Love Me," (music by Barry Mann, lyrics not yet by Cynthia Weil), and also did well in 1962 with the singles "He Knows I Love Him Too Much" and "What Am I to Do," also produced by Spector…who soon got involved with several more girl groups, leaving the Paris Sisters behind. (Phil's 73rd birthday comes up December 26th…get him a cake with a file in it).

As pop underwent radical change in the mid-60's, smart producers were mixing messages into the mush…exemplified by the subversive "Along Comes Mary" from The Association and the overt "Give a Damn" from Spanky and Our Gang. There still seemed hope for the Paris Sisters, now on Reprise, and working with former Spector arranger Jack Nitzsche. Their 1966 album "Sing Everything Under the Sun" remains an unsung classic of the waning girl group era, featuring several original compositions by Priscilla that stand comfortably alongside contributions from Goffin and King (Some of Your Lovin') Bacharach and David ("Long After Tonight is All Over") and Mann and Weil ("See That Boy"). The album had their smart re-working of "It's My Party," transformed from Lesley Gore's squealing angst, to vulnerable, wide-eyed baby doll heartbreak.

Your download below does have "It's My Party," but rather than the obvious early hits, also includes two rarities: both sides of a GNP Crescendo single "Stand Naked Clown," backed with "The Ugliest Girl in Town." The latter was the theme song for a short-lived TV show about a guy who invades the kicky British fashion scene in drag. It pre-dates Lady Gaga by a generation.

Call it Diana Ross syndrome, or just common sense; Priscilla went solo in 1967. The age of the singer-songwriter had arrived, and she had enough original material for the appropriately titled "Priscilla Sings Herself." Writing to what she perceived to be her true vocal talents, there was a marked shift away from breathy intimacy and the world of Claudine Longet or Astrud Gilberto. Instead of fluff and easy listening, there was the moody "Stone is Very Very Cold" and the bombastic "message" tune "He Owns the World," two tracks that seemed to be Priscilla's bid for entering the territory of Dusty Springfield and Shirley Bassey. Hey…Dusty and Shirley didn't write their own music and lyrics…these hold up, too. But…the album didn't get the attention it deserved.

Her next album switched styles again; the Pat Boone-ish concept album "Priscilla Sings Billy." Yes, they spelled Billie Holiday's name wrong and offered middle-of-the-road interpretations of Lady Day. It didn't thrill purists who loved the original's weary jazz lilt and boozy phrasing, and it had no appeal to pop fans who didn't want to hear Gershwin's "I Loves You Porgy." The middle aged white audience had no idea who she was, so would've only bought that kind of album if it was from Rosemary Clooney or Doris Day.

After her 1978 comeback attempt, "Love Is…" Priscilla suffered an accident resulting in partial facial paralysis, sidelining her music career for a number of years. By the 1990s Priscilla was again playing the occasional Parisian club date, and in the spring of 2002 she returned to the U.S. for a proposed Paris Sisters reunion concert. Sadly, nothing quite worked out for her and her sisters, and she died just two years later, on March 5, 2004, from injuries suffered in a fall at her home. She was 59. Last year, an excellent compilation album was released on the Paris Sisters featuring a lot of rarities, and "Under the Sun" has been given a Japanese CD pressing.

Your download file feature five tracks: It's My Party, Stand Naked Clown, Stone is Very Very Cold, The Man with the Mistletoe Mustache, The Ugliest Girl in Town. For those with bandwidth problems, or dodgy wi-fi, there's a one-off separate file for "He Owns the World," which you can own in less than a few minutes.

FIVE FROM PRISCILLA PARIS / PARIS SISTERS: Five Tracks including the rare GNP single

Priscilla Paris He Owns the World

TOO MANY MONDAYS! - KISS and B.J. -- also Mary and Mann

TGIF is well known. Not so much JFCIM (Jesus Fuckin' Christ It's Monday).

Also not well known is the genial Mann-Weil song "Too Many Mondays." It doesn't express much existential angst over heading to work. Maybe the song's lack of success is that it reflects the laid back early 70s, when hippies cut their hair and became Yuppies, and started to accept the idea of having to earn a living in the real world. The song certainly has none of the sourness of "Mr. Businessman," or even the masochistic irony a Ray Davies might express in being home in Shangri-La on a sunny afternoon, ignoring the taxman.

In the 70's the song was recorded by two guys, a girl, and a group. I first heard it via author Barry Mann's solo album on Columbia, done about a decade after he had a novelty hit with his single "Who Put the Bomp." His mature voice was all right, but at the time the singer-songwriter category was dominated by Southerly stylings (James Taylor and Elton "Tumbleweed" John) rather than urban New Yorkers. A more folkie version turned up on one of [Peter, Paul and] Mary Travers' solo albums, and B.J. Thomas also sang it, probably glad that the Monday at least didn't involve a forecast of raindrops.

The most obscure version comes from the rock group Wicked Lester…which evolved into KISS. Yes, that's Gene Simmons on lead vocal. And it would be a few years before a Monday involved Gene sitting at the Aucoin office and having an interview with me, which ended up with some un-PC and unpublishable comments on everything from horror movies to Gene remarking on the strange high-pitched sound that can only be made with a stadium full of screaming Japanese fans.

As a few fans of the blog know, items are only posted on the 9th, 19th or 29th. Not too often has that number landed on a Monday, but now that it did, here's...

FOUR VERSIONS OF…. Too Many Mondays

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FRED STEINER: "Park Avenue Beat" aka "PERRY MASON THEME"

A dignified, dark and moody theme song that conveys an aura of mystery….

Yeah, you could say that about "The Perry Mason Theme." But what if that music wasn't played while glowering Raymond Burr stood in a court room, pondering new and startling evidence?

If you listen to the music without conjuring up an image of Raymond Burr, you might agree that the original title, "Park Avenue Beat" is appropriate...and this is actually some pretty sexy R&B jazz. It's the kind that could be played while a stripper performs, or in a nightclub as hip couples grind against each other with their full bodies (and full bodied couples grind against each other with their hips).

Let Fred Steiner describe the origins of this double-named tune:

"The original title was "Park Avenue Beat," and the reason for that was I conceived of Perry Mason as this very sophisticated lawyer; eats at the best restaurants, tailor-made sutis and so on. Yet at the same time he was mixed up with these underworld bad guys, and murder and crime.

"So the underlying beat is R&B, rhythm and blues. In those days, jazz, R&B whatever, was always associated with crime. Those old film noir pictures, they've always got jazz going. It's like whenever you see a Nazi (in a film) they play Wagner. It's kind of symphonic R&B, that's why it's called "Park Avenue Beat," but since then it's been known as "The Perry Mason Theme."

"It's gone through several changes depending of the timing…they would change the main titles year in and year out. " Mostly, the changes have been in tempo. There's one big difference in the Perry Mason theme used for the 1980's made-for-TV movies: after the ominous introduction, there's a cymbal crash before the main theme begins. You get that version as well as one of the many vinyl cover versions released back in the day. Yes, Hatch is the guy who was behind so many Petula Clark hits of the early 60's...and he radically changes the tempo to make this more of a teen dance number, that frug-head.

The Perry Mason Theme…. Hatched by Tony

THE MADE-FOR-TV MOVIE THEME VERSION OF… The PERRY MASON Theme

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RAY STEVENS : REDNECK vs WETBACK

"Everything is beautiful," Ray Stevens once sang, but he wouldn't include every porcine Mexican doing a jumping-bean dance over the border.

The good ol' boy (now 74) thought it was kinda funny when guys were runnin' around nekkid and upsettin' good Christians (remember "The Streak" a 1974 hit). But Beaners storming the border, holding out their hands for welfare checks and food stamps! Ain't so amusin' to some folks!

PS, they hold out their hands and mime what they want 'cause…guess what…they don't speak English and don't intend to. They also don't need to. Not when the government happily supplies translators and Spanish versions of every pamphlet outlining what they'll give away to not only immigrants, but illegal ones. The Hispanic population is so large now, all any Latino or Latina has to do is wander into any store or office, and put on the sorrowful big dark-eyed expression of woe. You know, the one "Puss in Boots" (voiced by Antonio Banderas) uses in those "Shrek" movies. Then somebody will step forward to speak to 'em in Spanish. Heck, the SAP channel on the TV makes sure these folks from the fattest nation on Earth (America's second) can sit back all day and get Spanish translations of every boxing match, soap opera and taco commercial.

Now, if Ray was Rush Limbaugh, he'd also add: Why is it that every immigrant group (even the allegedly stupid Poles) gratefully learned the language of their adopted country…but the over-populating Latinos don't?

Ray isn't Rush, who makes a fortune percolating Red State loonies with tea bag racism and hot-headed Harper Valley PTA hypocrisy. So, how does Ray turn this problem of welfare abuse and illegal immigration and refusal to speak English and not remembering the Alamo, into something that might raise a smile instead of a shotgun? Maybe the answer is "Mi Casa Su Casa." Maybe not. You decide.

No question, Ray Stevens has been making people laugh for over four decades. Most everyone can think of at least one classic Ray Stevens goofball novelty song that's been borderline tasteless. That includes his first good 'un, "Harry the Hairy Ape" from 1961, in which he sounds black, and utters some fairly un-PC stuff about apes sounding like Presley-type rock singers. Or, the following year, "Ahab the Arab," which Muslim extremists would self-detonate about, not to mention, 40 years later, Ray scoring with another gold single, "Osama Yo Mama" in 2002

Thanks to the Internet, nobody needs to buy a novelty song when it comes out. It's thrown all over the place by the great Americans who say "Freedom! Everything should be free!" So Ray's concentrated on touring (go buy a t-shirt) and holding his tin-cup out to Google's 'YouTube' where they pay a few pennies per thousand hits on a music video. Which can add up; "Come to the USA" another comic jab at illegal immigration (this one about all races, not just Hispanics), has gotten over six million views.

Years ago, there was some kind of "center" to entertainment. Both Liberals and Conservatives could listen to a Ray Stevens song and enjoy it, the same way they might tune in "The Andy Griffith Show." Now? The Liberals tend to only tolerate country crossover acts like Shania Twain (briefly) and listen to Jon Stewart for laughs, while the tea baggers go into deeper circles with their NASCAR preoccupation, and listen to Ray Stevens scoff about global warming and make faces at illegal aliens.

The danger with Ray and his "tea party" mentality is that he's appealing to redneck assholes who'd fire a rifle into a crowd of Latinas at a day care center or run some Pakistani out of his 7-11 store even if there ain't no white guy named Duane who'd want to put in 12 hour days at minimum wage making sure that jerks could buy Slim Jims and Budweiser. At the end of his "Come to the USA" video, Ray offers a disclaimer that salutes the immigrants who work hard "and chose to "Come to the USA" the right way." Really, Ray, that would include the two brothers who bombed the Boston Marathon? Them guys was legal immigrants, fella.

But heck, a novelty song IS a novelty song. Most are intended to get a laugh, a nod of the head, and after a few more spins, ain't never get played again. It's hard, in under 3 minutes, to present all sides of an issue, and a lot of racist, sexist or insult comedy is intended as a safety valve for people who need to laugh instead of cry, and most certainly chuckle instead of going for the gun belt buckle.

In the end, real "freedom" is accepting other points of view without screaming "politically incorrect" or "racist" or urging censorship. Let some Mexican humorist come up with a funny response to "Mi Casa Su Casa" - and do it in English! So far, nada! Lo siento, es verdad!

MI CASA SU CASA

The Legendary RAY STEVENS

PAKISTAN IS FULL OF SHIT + Outhouse Song by Billy Edd Wheeler

This is, no joke! It's WORLD TOILET DAY, November 19th...so proclaimed by The United Nations.

A child dies EVERY MINUTE because of SHIT!

One of the main countries targeted for WORLD TOILET DAY is filthy Pakistan. No wonder so many Pakistanis have emigrated to the United Kingdom and to the United States of America. Famine. Racism. That's nothing compared to being knee deep in SHIT! This is a country where hundreds of thousands of people just drop a load anywhere...like dogs.

The Associated Press, with bigger shit to deal with (the latest on Kanye West and Kim Kardashian) only gave a few scant paragraphs to the reason why the United Nations is concerned:

"Some 2.5 billion people do not have access to adequate sanitation, the United Nations says, and more than 1 billion practice open defecation — a problem that contributes to countless deaths from preventable diseases.

"We must break the taboos and make sanitation for all a global development priority," U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon said in declaring Tuesday to be the inaugural World Toilet Day."

However in Pakistan, WORLD TOILET DAY is part of a huge movement, and the websites over there are overflowing with big pieces about this shit. Here, read for yourself:

Now, what song could commemorate such a dark day? Maybe Billy Edd Wheeler's "Ode to the Little Brown Shack." This novelty tune was informally recorded during a live performance…and it created such a rumble, it was rush-released, even though the sound quality was fairly crappy. Flushed with pride, Wheeler sold a load of the "ode," even if he would ultimately be better known as the author of "High Flying Bird" and "Coal Tattoo," two folk-rock standards (both covered by Judy Collins, but the former best done by Judy Henske, and the latter well performed by Wheeler himself).

In Pakistan, a child dies every MINUTE from diarrhea. So let's be a little tolerant of all those Pakistanis who have formed gangs in England to indulge in white slavery and abduction of teenage girls for prostitution, and the ones in America who are simply running around like chickens with their heads off, babbling incoherently and screaming about Allah and letting us know that Pakistan has nuclear capability. Once every Pakistani has a clean and sanitary place to take a dump and once this overpopulated world has a toilet seat framed around every single asshole…THE WORLD WILL BE SAVED.

But yeah, the odds are better for some crazy Allah-kazams to blow the world to bits, or for oceans and rivers of shit to overflow onto the land bringing disease and ultimately... death will hold illimitable dominion over all. Aw, shit. But let's be optimistic and wish everyone, especially every Pakistani, a HAPPY WORLD TOILET DAY!

WORLD TOILET DAY! Ode to the Little Brown Shack

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #27 - THE VILLAIN'S THEME!

The most famous bit of ooky spooky music of all time, "The Villain's Theme" would be played whenever some evil creep in a cape began to tip-toe toward the two lips of a sleeping heroine. Eventually it became such a cliche that it was used mostly in parody, in cartoons.

The only piece of music more famous than this, in the horror genre, is "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor," which seemed to be played any time Lon Chaney sat down on his organ in "The Phantom of the Opera." It was also used in Herbert Lom's Hammer update of that movie, and turns up performed by organist-Satanist Boris Karloff in "The Black Cat" and by the little spook Peter Lorre in "Mad Love."

Everyone knows who wrote "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor." Bach. Not Gary Brooker. The composer of "The Villain's Theme" is much more obscure, and sometimes the piece is credited to the wrong person. Back in the silent era, a lot of professionals offered up generic sheet music that theater pianists could use. For example, there was a piece called "Burglar Music" by the prolific composer Zamecnik, published in 1913. Some also call it "The Villain's Theme," but it ain't.

"The Villain's Theme" (aka "Mysterioso Pizzicato") is the work of James Bodewalt Lampe, and was first published in 1914 in the "Remick Folio of Moving Picture Music, vol. I." Just why it wasn't recorded on a 78, or given a rousing 45 rpm version via some Halloween single by The Ventures or Duane Eddy, is pretty mysterioso. I found it on an album called "Music from the Silent Films," which I found via bargain bin in October of 1966, having been nearly small enough to fall into the cardboard box. Released via the budget Parade Records company, there was no credit on the back cover for the performers, just "featuring Mike Di Napoli" on the label itself. Decades later, the album had a vinyl re-issue from Omega Records. There's also a CD called "Silent Film Music" by Al Weber, released in 1992, one of the few other ways of getting the dastardly ditty.

The reason it's on the blog now, instead of in October for Halloween? If you were Poe, you might call it "the imp of the perverse." lt's a musical tonic for this most nefarious time of year…when monsters creep around in Santa Claus hats, haunting you with demands about giving to charity...while even more hideous villains use Christmas music in radio and TV adverts brainwashing you to BUY, BUY, BUY!

By God, this evil minor key melody is the real music for a hellish time of year...reflecting the ghouls, goblins and goons that stalk you with greedhead grossness, and hellishly howl with fiendish enthusiasm over the trifecta of terror that is Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Eve. So here's something you can play after a trip to the mall has fractured your skull with "Let it Snow," "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer," "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer," "Sleigh Ride," "Feliz Navidad," and "Wonderful Christmastime..." and the rest of the obnoxious music that Jesus hates so much he will NEVER come back again.

And no, that's not a Snidely Whiplash puppet popping out of the nun's habit, it's Beany & Cecil's arch enemy Dishonest John.

The Villain's Theme

SUFFOCATE (Ralph Smedley) and "Sloppy Madison," too! JACK GALE

How about a new dance craze where you try and suffocate yourself? Or your partner? How about a vocalist who sounds like Popeye imitating Arnold Stang? How…could this novelty single miss? It did. And nobody bothered with the flip side, "Drown." But that's the way it is (and was) with oddball singles. For every fluke hit that tops the charts, like "Purple People Eater," there's 99 other flukes that sink to the bottom. Most of 'em are equally as stupid, so it's just dumb luck when a tune gets a lot of airplay and somehow makes people dazed and confused enough to buy.

Ralph Smedley may not have succeeded, but he did appear often on Jack Gale's radio shows. That's because he was actually Jack Gale. And Jack Gale would eventually try again with another parody of stupid dance music, convincing a major label (Columbia) to issue "The Sloppy Madison." This one has nothing to do with Oscar Madison from "The Odd Couple." It has everything to do with broadly mocking "Madison Time," an irritating but successful tuneless tune (also on Columbia) that does nothing but order people around with bewildering instructions and a shout of "Hit it!" The flip side to Gale's single, "The Medicine," is another overt jab...this time urging pill taking along with insane dance instructions. Sick!

Gale was the winner of "Disc Jockey of the Year" in 1970, Jack seemed to develop a hatred for novelty dance numbers from having to spin them so often, since he first hit the airwaves in 1954. He spent the most of his time in Cleveland (WSRS), Boston (WMEX), Florida (WPDQ, WKKO, WRKT) and Baltimore (WSID, WCBM, WITH, WWIN), but also turned up in Charlotte, Norfolk and Charleston in his long career.

Aside from spinning discs, he offered jokes and sketches, and his "Mighty Gale Players" presented the soap opera spoof "Life Can be Miserable." Ralph Smedley was a comedy character Jack often voiced on his shows, along with Dawson Bells the Poet Un-Laureate, John Goodvoice, Helicopter Harry, Lowell Pressure, Old Pop and Dr. Souchon, among many others. Jack is still active in the voiceover field, doing radio commercials and offering clients a variety of voices to choose from.

The owner of Playback Records, he produced for a lot of country artists including Johnny Paycheck, Del Reeves, Johnny Cash, Bobby Helms, Melba Montgomery, Ronnie Dove, George Jones, Sheb Wooley, Crystal Gayle and Jean Shepard. He also managed and produced Johnny Cymbal, who had one of the smash novelty hits of all time with "Mr. Bassman."

Want to know more about Gale? You don't know Jack…unless you order his book "Same Time…Same Station." Jack Gale fans: Send that check or money order for $22.95 (includes shipping)
to: JALO BROADCASTING CORP, 5318 Brett Circle, Sebring, FL 33872

SUFFOCATE Ralph Smedley

THE SLOPPY MADISON Jack Gale

Risque novelty! THEY ALL ASK FOR YOU - Paul Gayten

"Down by the zoo…they all ask for you." And if you don't pronounce a "k" too well, and New Orleans jazz man Paul Gayten doesn't, it's hilarity. Because "the monkeys ass…the bears ass….the giraffes ass…HEY! "

Yass yass yass, "and the hyenas ass, and the cats ass, and the birds ass, the bees ass…the jackass ass…they ALL ASK FOR YOU!"

Oh, like Viley Virus twerking her ass is such sophistication? Now she's calling herself a feminist, and the press says she's "edgy." A few generations ago, a stupid novelty was simply acknowledged to be nothing but a stupid novelty.

So where did we go wrong, I ass you?

Ass for Paul Gayten (January 29, 1920 – March 26, 1991), he wasn't your typical risque novelty song guy, he was a veteran New Orleans pianist and band leader. He had some good credentials as a songwriter as well ("For You My Love" a hit for Larry Darnell, "But I Do" for Clarence "Frogman" Henry). Some of his early hits featured Annie Laurie as vocalist ("Since I Fell For You" in 1947). Shifting to New Jersey's Regal label in 1950, he and his band became one of their biggest selling acts. They toured the club circuit throughout the East Coast. When Regal cashed in, in 1052, it was good news for Gayten. He ended up on a major label, Okeh, and Paul himself handled the vocals for his first release, "All Alone and Lonely."He label issued his singles in both the 78 rpm and 45 rpm format.

Oddly enough, Gayten got the assignment to sing "They All Ask For You" with the Kelly Owens Orchestra for the 1952 Okeh release below. These one-off jerk-off was atypical of the R&B singer, who started 1953 with "Don't Worry Me," and then "Time Is a Passing," and "Cow Cow Blues." While solid on the R&B circuit, Paul's singles didn't inspire Okeh to sign him for more. In 1956 he recorded for Chess subsidiaries Checker and Argo, and had a surprise hit with disc jockeys via "Be My Baby." Dance and swing helped the versatile Gayten band retain airplay, and he was even touring with New Orleans R&B-rock star Fats Domino, releasing "Flat Foot Sam," "Nervous Boogie" "Music Goes Round and Round" and "Tough Enough."

While so many not in the music biz say "The music should be free, make your money touring," it's not easy to find venues, life on the road is hard, and sometimes things get just plain boring. Gayten was able to work as a talent scout and producer at Chess Records, and get his songs placed as well. He combined all three with the signing of Clarence "Frogman" Henry. Sometimes sitting in on recordings, it's Gayten playing piano on Chuck Berry's "Carol." In the late 60's, when soul and pop became hot sellers, and Big Band and jazz less so, Gayten tried to start up his own record label to support the older performers. One of his first signings for Pzazz in 1968 was the veteran Louis Jordan. Gayten retired from the music biz a few years later.

By the late 70's and early 80's, the older music of a Louis Jordan or Fats Waller found a new audience and some fresh respect, and pioneering R&B performers were being treated to vinyl re-issues and "greatest hits" compilations. There was also renewed interest in "risque" tracks and ironically enough, for many, the only Paul Gayten track they've heard or heard of is "They All Ask For You." But you can ask for more Paul Gayten at your local record store…although it may take an express bus or train to find a local record store…

GET A PIECE OF... They All Ask For You

CLAM CITY BOOGIE - DANNY FLORES

You know Danny Flores. You know him for one word: TEQUILA! Drink enough of it, and you might start doing the"Clam City Boogie."

Danny (July 11, 1929 – September 19, 2006) was born in Santa Paula, California, then moved with his parents to Long Beach where he formed the 3-D Ranch Boys, and later recorded as Danny Flores and His 3-D's. Their best recording might well be...CLAM CITY BOOGIE.

Dubbed "The Mexican Hillbilly" for his rockin' mix of blues and country, the sax-playing young star ended up with yet another identity: Chuck Rio. Stuck in a contract that was holding him back, he needed a different name to record new music for a new record label. Danny/Chuck's new group was The Champs. The debut single was "Train to Nowhere." Needing a B-side, Flores chose to highlight himself on sax via an instrumental…interrupted by periodic shouts (if not shots) of "Tequila!"

As often happens, the B-side was the one disc jockeys played, and they kept playing it. "Tequila" shot to #1 in 1958, and won a 1959 Grammy. As often happened, he was lured into signing away the U.S. rights. At the time, many composers and singers figured a lump sum payout was a good bet. Who could know that quickly done rock tunes would have an extended life via oldies re-issues, CDs, commercial use or movie soundtracks? Fortunately, he held on to world rights, and continued to get some decent paychecks from overseas.

Who can do without "Tequila?" Not Danny Flores. He gigged regularly in California through the 70's, hiring a back-up singer named Sharee…who would become his wife. Thirty years later, and hundreds of local shows later, she recalled, " 'I can honestly tell you he never got tired of playing that song." No word on how often he performed "Clam City Boogie." It's probably fair to say that when it came to royalties, the song didn't generate too many clams.

Danny Flores Clam City Boogie

BOBBIE GENTRY RETIRES AFTER A PATTI DAHLSTROM SINGLE

Below…the last of Bobbie Gentry. Her cover of Patti Dahlstrom's "He Did Me Wrong But He Did Me Right" sank like something tossed from the Tallahatchee Bridge. Too darn bad, but a lot of great Patti Dahlstrom songs failed to get the attention they deserved, no matter who recorded them.

The year was 1978. After a Christmas Eve appearance on Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show," nobody saw Bobbie Gentry again. Since she hadn't had a Top 10 hit since "Fancy" in 1970, she wasn't exactly missed. By the time people began asking "Whatever Became of…" she had put up an effective barrier that kept her privacy intact. She wasn't big enough, (or her new life interesting enough) for the heavy tabloids to bother. As for fans, those knowing her whereabouts respect her too much to even sneak a snapshot of how she's looking these days.

Gentry was born Roberta Streeter. She took her last name from the strong film character "Ruby Gentry" played by Jennifer Jones. She seemed to come out of nowhere in 1967 with the #1 hit "Ode to Billie Joe." The song was originally over 7 minutes long, a demo with guitar. Capitol edited it down to make it into a single, subtracting enough verses to make the song much more mysterious, and adding the string arrangement that made it even more dramatic.

Bobbie walked away with four Grammy awards that year including Best New Artist, Best Vocal Performance/Female, and the somewhat similar Best Contemporary Female Solo Vocal Performance. There was also a Grammy for "Best Arrangement Accompanying a Vocalist."

Sultry and smart, she recorded some pretty interesting songs on her albums, and tried to challenge Top 40 radio now and then (how about "Casket Vignette.") But…her popularity in 1968-1970 was mostly due to a set of duets with Glen Campbell, including "All I Have to Do is Dream." Her single "Fancy" was only the second (and last) time she had a solo hit in America. Also in 1970, "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" grazed the UK Top 40.

"But I Can't Get Back" was the prophetic title of the single released in support of her album "Patchwork" in 1971. It hit #37 in the US, didn't do much overseas, and disc jockeys didn't see her name on much vinyl after that. In 1974, she spent the summer in England starring in a limited (four episode) run of "The Bobbie Gentry Show." And yes, four years later…she issued the Dahlstrom-penned single, appeared on "The Tonight Show," and disappeared.

Gone, but hardly forgotten. She's missed by both male and female fans. Jill Sobule, everyone's favorite Jewish lesbian singer/songwriter, may have offered the best tribute. It's her song, "Where is Bobbie Gentry," and here are some choice lines:

Where is Bobbie Gentry?

Up in Alaska, Hollywood, or maybe in Japan

I bet that she’s still beautiful, goes barefoot everywhere she can

Does she still play guitar or write a song or two?
Maybe that was over; she’s got better things to do

If I could just find you

I would love you, then I’d leave you alone

If I could just find you

I would love you and I’d leave you alone

HE DID ME WRONG... But He Did It Right

NIGGAH LOVES HIS POSSUM - Collins and Harlan

You think the "Nigger/Niggah" debate is new? Nigga, please! It goes back over a hundred years. Check the sheet music (make that "white sheet" music) for the 1905 Paul Dresser tune"Niggah Loves his Possum." That spelling was used on Collins and Harlan's Victor single in 1908 (as well as an Edison Blue Amberol four-minute single). When it was re-recorded in 1922, the spelling changed to the more widely used"Nigger."

Offensive? Perhaps 20% of ethnic humor then, and now, is intended to be. We make fun of people that annoy us, and that includes rich people, Valley girls, and ethnics. Strangely enough, in the ethnic category, a lot of times we laugh with and impersonate the race…few were offended by "The Beverly Hillbillies," Carroll O'Connor didn't normally talk like Queens native Archie Bunker, and Amos and Andy (both on radio portrayed by whites and on TV portrayed by blacks) were beloved. Dean Martin and Johnny Carson continued their winking impressions of Kingfish dialect on into the 70's. The Wayans Brothers were in white drag for "White Chicks."

Back at the turn of the 20th Century, in both American vaudeville and the British Music Hall, a lot of performers appeared in blackface to sing heartfelt songs of suffering, or giddy tunes of joy. Why in the world did they choose to impersonate another race? Because they had empathy, and in some way, a strange desire to become black in order to emote without seeming corny, or joke without inhibition. That hasn't changed. Lord Buckley, the stand-up hipster of the 50's used Amos and Andy dialect when he brought whites on stage for his "puppet" routines, and re-told Bible stories in "Negro dialect," a "hipsomatic" way of attaining comic purity. White artists from Genya Ravan to Bonnie Raitt to Eric Clapton, Jagger and Dylan adopt black phrasing and music styles to get their messages across.

The most famous singer in the minstrel era was Al Jolson. Here's a guy blacking up to sing about the misery of being "Old Black Joe," and of his heart-rending love for "My Mammy." Huh? He also sang "Kol Nidre," but buyers didn't find Jewish suffering nearly as much fun as sad songs sung in blackface. Eddie Cantor was another who corked up, but considered himself anything but racist for doing so. Cantor was a good friend of the legendary Bert Williams, a light skinned (born in the Bahamas) black man who performed with his skin darkened with cork. This was not unusual at all…decades later, Pigmeat Markham was still "blacking up" while working the black vaudeville circuit, and his audience didn't object. Williams was one of the most highly paid stars of his era, but was treated poorly off stage. He told Cantor, "“It wouldn't be so bad, Eddie, if I didn't still hear the applause ringing in my ears."

At this point, Jolson movies and the Larry Parks bio are available on DVD, and while somewhat cringeworthy, weird blackface and dialect scenes in major movies aren't cut when broadcast. Film historians are now praising Stepin Fetchit and Mantan Moreland and noting that Martin Lawrence or Tyler Perry play with black stereotypes in just as broad a way. And yes, rappers who use "Niggah" or "Nigger" continue to enrage some and liberate others.

In the era of Collins and Harlan, there were definitely some intentionally insulting songs and monologues released on the major labels…not only in black dialect, but in any ethnic dialect. There were tasteless songs about Jews, Irish, Italians and Germans, and some of the buyers were…yes, Jews, Irish, Italians and Germans who laughed too, as a way of distancing themselves from those who hadn't assimilated. Verrrrrry complicated, this world of ethnic songs and humor.

As for "Niggah Loves his Possum," it's sort of right down the middle. It's a catchy, jolly tune, humanizing the "spooks" that many feared as dangerous. They portray these people as pretty simple in their basic needs: possum, alcohol and watermelon. Then again, all Flip Wilson's Geraldine wanted was a good man and some Ray Charles records. If Tyler Perry or somebody else in a blaxploitation comedy was seen righteously digging into some fried chicken, and guzzling from a huge bottle of Colt 45, who is to say that an all black audience wouldn't be roaring with laughter and recognizing a relative or friend?

Speaking of politically incorrectness, Arthur Collins (February 7 1864 - August 3, 1933 and Byron Harlan (August 29, 1861 – September 11, 1936) were often known as "The Half Ton Duo," because they were so obese. Fat fucks singing niggah-nigger songs? Yes, but these were more popularly called "Coon songs," as if that word's any improvement. They recorded "Lazy Spells Lazy," "My Bambazoo" and "In Monkey Land" and were an equal opportunity in insulting women and other ethnic groups with: "My Wife's Gone to the Country, Hurrah Hurrah," "It was the Dutch," "Night Time in Little Italy," and "My Brudda Sylvest."

The duo also sang plenty of ordinary tunes, and were the first (1911) to record Irving Berlin's rousing "Alexander's Ragtime Band." They were among the first to record a "jazz" or, as it was also known "jas" tune, including "That Funny Jas Band from Dixieland," recorded November 8 of 1916, and "I Want a Jazzy Kiss."

When a song became a hit, it was covered by plenty of competing artists, and in those wild days of limited copyright protection, the duo often re-recorded for other labels. Often they had to re-record because the master would wear out after a certain number of pressings. Collins and Harlan freelanced for Victor, Edison, Columbia, Emerson, Okeh, Gennett, Operaphone, Pathe and many others.

Show biz was tough even back then. Collins was the baritone, the self-proclaimed "strong man of the team," with his deep and powerful voice. He considered Harlan (who used his tenor voice to play women in some of the novelty songs) as sometimes just a harmonist. So…Collins would sometimes negotiate to get more money or special perks for himself from the record labels.

The team fell out of favor in the 1920's, and plenty of other performers became stars in the new medium of radio, including the famous "Happiness Boys" Jones and Hare. Collins, of Hempstead, Long Island, and Harlan, out in West Orange, New Jersey, were finally outsiders, treated in their last years as perhaps John Lennon would put it; like niggers of the world.

NIGGAH LOVES HIS POSSUM Collins and Harlan

THE BIRDS IS COMING! Hitch yourself to LOUIS JONES

Though he had a common name, there's only one great R&B singer called Louis Jones. Louis was born in Galveston, Texas on April 28th, 82 years ago. He's no longer with us, but he recorded soul greatness for a variety of labels, mostly circa 1956 and 1964. He recorded as "Louis Jones" and also "Louis BLUES BOY Jones," tracks including "I Believe To My Soul" on the Enjoy label, "Come on Home" from Sabra Records, and the ultra strange, especially for a major label such as Decca, "The Birds is Coming."

Straining and frantic R&B singers were not too popular on AM radio back in 1963. Louis Jones is so raspy, just listening you'll want to reach for some cough drops. Adding to the growling and howling....some actual bird noises in the mix! Pretty amazing for its time.

The song attempted to cash in on the latest Alfred Hitchcock movie, which had gotten a lot of advance publicity thanks to the master's own choice of slogan, the correctly grammatical (referring to the title of the film) "'The Birds' is Coming." There were no black people in Bodega Bay (location for the movie) and Tippie Hedren is about as white and waspy as a leading actress can get, so it's hard to figure why anyone thought an R&B rave-up would be a tie-in. With it's constant cry of "The Bird is Coming," the few R&B radio stations out there probably didn't play the song, suspicious that it sounded more like a long movie commercial.

Jones' soulful style had zero crossover chances back in 1963, when even raw and raucous James Brown wasn't getting on the same radio stations that favored the smooth pop harmonies of The Four Seasons, who were on the charts with "Walk Like a Man" (Not "Run from The Birds.").

Yes, Top 40 radio aimed at white teens did offer black artists, but they had to be smoothies: Ruby and the Romantics with "Our Day Will Come" or cute girl group The Chiffons (who at the time of this Louis Jones release, were riding high via "He's So Fine," aka "My Sweet Lord"). Teenage ears in 1963 were much more likely to accept "Blue Velvet" from Bobby Vinton and "Surf City" from Jan and Dean. The following year The Beatles discovered that fans preferred a whiter shade of cover version over the then-obscure originals by Little Richard or Chuck Berry.

Now, most everyone's ears are attuned to gospel, Delta blues, rap, righteous R&B, and all ethnic stylings. Well, even so...BE WARNED! You have not heard anything quite like Louis Jones. This ain't no funky chicken. This is serious! Deadly peckers! Cover your heads. Protect your ears....

THE BIRDS IS COMING! LOUIS JONES

ROCK AROUND THE TOMBSTONE - JACK JUDGE & THE JURY

One of the lesser achievements of the pioneering Paul Winley, pictured at left, is the horror quickie "Rock Around the Tombstone."

He's better known for doo-wop and rap productions over many decades, but for a novelty cash-in, it's pretty good.

Back when "Famous Monsters of Filmland" was doing well on newsstands, and TV audiences were getting to know horror hosts such as Vampira and Zacherley, quite a few tombstone, cemetery, graveyard and monster songs were haunting disc jockeys. Many "failed to chart" (that's a senile zombie's catch-phrase).

"Rock Around the Tombstone" has a good beat, decent lyrics, and a pretty good vocal from "Jack Judge." You, the jukebox jury, can mourn it's obscure burial for such a long time...or if you don't dig it, dig it deeper into obscurity by deleting it from your computer.

Producer Paul Winley began his career as a songwriter. He wrote "Later For You Baby" for The Solitaires, "Smooth Operator" for Ruth Brown, and also wrote for The Clovers (his brother Harold was in that group). Speaking of relatives and nepotism, an early single on his Winley label was "Bow Legged Daddy" by Ann Winley. The indie musician remains best known for doo-wop, and for recording early faves The Jesters and The Paragons. Both groups came up with some good songs between 1957-1961 that fans still love to play. They had a longer life than some others Paul signed, such as Emanons, a Brooklyn quartet that didn't make it past one 1958 Winley Records single. When an act showed a lot of promise, Winley would arrange a deal with a label that had bigger distribution. The classic compilation "The Paragons Meet the Jesters" was released on Jubilee, which also handled "Rock Around the Tombstone."

Over the years, Winley expanded from doo-wop to other genres, and stayed in business into the 70's and 80's with everything from speeches by Malcolm X, to disco tracks and albums by the Harlem Underground Band. He also dabbled in electrofunk via Afrika Bambaataa. And, never forgetting his relatives, he produced some early rap singles, including the 1979 "Rhymin' and Rappin" and 1980 "Vicious Rap," both featuring his daughter Tanya.

Jack Judge lives! He's gonna...

Rock Around the Tombstone Jack Judge and the Jury

The Death and Suicide of A Whiskey Girl and Nowhere Man

Arizona is beautiful country. You can find a place where at night the desert stretches out blue-black; in some parts the horizon melding with the sky. Your eyes look up into that shockingly clear sky and you see the sharp pinpoints of stars. You can wonder how many more stars, invisible, are further out there, and whether there's a bright blaze beyond it, or more darkness. Depending on where you are...up in the hills or the mountains...you can look in a particular direction, and see different lights...the city of Phoenix, perhaps, stretched out in the distance, a jumble of lights and the vague patterns of highways and buildings...a place to go if you're lonely.

For Derrick Ross, there was no place to go, and no comfort in the heavens. He was a lonely "Nowhere Man," thinking about his wife and singing partner Amy, "A Whiskey Girl."

Together, they had played plenty of clubs in Arizona, especially in Tucson and in their home town of Bisbee, where Connie Finck booked them at her Copper Queen Saloon on Howell Avenue. The couple had been married for 13 years, and had performed as "Nowhere Man and A Whiskey Girl" for the past ten.

They played small clubs, sold some self-pressed CDs at their gigs, and managed to get by. "Sell t-shirts, sell some CD's," is the advice given to people like Derrick and Amy Ross. "Give away your music because piracy is sharing and it can't be stopped. Oh, and just book yourself all over the country."

This wasn't too easy for them, as Amy had been battling lupus for the past six years, and had to be on dialysis. Still, the couple played the local clubs, did what they could, and as anyone who saw them would tell you...they brought a lot of joy with them, and shared it fully with the audience.

They tried not to think too much about what the doctors said, which was that Amy was not likely to have a very full life. If she had another five years, she'd be lucky.

She wasn't lucky She developed a blood infection that would require heart surgery. She went to the Tucson Medical Center, hopeful the complications could be remedied, but after a week, she was no better. "I am pretty freaked out," Derreck said, guesting on a podcast with his friend, comedian Doug Stanhope, indicating that several "Nowhere Man and A Whiskey Girl" gigs would have to be canceled. He wasn't thinking that she was close to death.

Amy died. She was 40 years old.

Amy's Facebook page had a strange posting on October 14th, at 6:49pm.

It was Derrick, writing as Amy:

"Hey Kids! Bad news! I died this orning and Derrick didn't know how to tell you. I love yhou all and hope you go out and be nice to someone. Funerals are a bore so hopefully I don't have one. Give Derrick some space...He stinks at this stuff so leave him be for now. Thanks for all the kindness...Please spread it around."

Derrick's friends tried to console him, and he told a few that he was coping. He did not tell anyone that he had bought a gun.

The following day, October 15th, at 12:16pm, this message appeared on Amy's Facebook page:

"Sorry to bring more bad news but Derrick decided to join me at some point in the night last night. I thought it best you heard it from me. Enjoy every sandwich. We love and will miss you all. Go be nice to someone for us."

You might recognize the line "Enjoy every sandwich," as what the dying Warren Zevon said to David Letterman, when Dave booked him for a farewell show.

You know Warren's stuff. Here, a song from Derrick and Amy Ross.

IF ONLY I Nowhere Man and A Whiskey Girl

ILL-ustrated Songs #26 - The Hitmen - BATES MOTEL

"Man," Lenny Bruce once said, "the movies did screw us up."

Sure did. When there's a murder, tornado or a bombing, what do the witnesses always say? "It was just like a movie!" So it wasn't all that real or shocking. It takes more and more to shock us all the time, although I think "Psycho" would still scare even the most jaded Rotten.com-loving tween ghoul. Too bad most wouldn't watch a Hitchcock film this time of year, just vampire love movies and zombie gunk.

Zombie stuff is just ooky-spooky. You can see the rubber on the mask and the creature is on the loose and easy to spot a mile away. Hitchcock's monsters were likely to be named "Uncle Charlie" or "Norman Bates," and seem normal most of the time. This is a little more unsettling, and you can't blame the violence on the supernatural. The inhuman killer is all too human.

Master Bates inspired the hard pounding "Bates Motel," a masterpiece from the two-album-and-gone group The Hitmen. Their first album "Aim for the Feet" didn't impress anyone, and despite issuing "Bates Motel" as a 12 inch and pushing it to disc jockeys and rock magazine editors (which is how I acquired it back in 1981), the excellent single from their album "Torn Together" did not do well enough to get them re-signed to Columbia.

The group's leader, Ben Watkins, would go on to various forms of musical infamy and success, but nothing he or The Hitmen did compares to this track, which has a menacing beat, strangled guitars, and even a touch of humor. It seems to be about a Hitchcock fan who is now a copycat killer in the real world, one who might even be filming his victim before and after (and maybe even during) the attack: "Lying in wait with my Super 8 [this was before VHS, folks], fame will be bait..." His bloody mission? "I'll turn my home into Bates Motel." He addresses Hitchcock's legacy: "The Master has gone, but you'll carry on…Biting your nails forever…"

The song rumbles along with an exaggerated heartbeat of bass and and even the jokey chorus can't really lighten the grim mood: "Check in, check out, check in, check out…I'll turn my home into Bates Motel!"

Some critics insist "Psycho" was a black comedy, and somehow even more delicious in that sense than Hitchcock's "The Trouble with Harry." So it is, that this number goes overboard at just the right times, so you're more likely to dance or doo-wop along than do someone in. That's an odd thing about classic horror movies...they do lend themselves to parody so well, and many of the best, including James Whale's "Bride of Frankenstein" and "Invisible Man" already have some humor to them and clear satiric intent. Which is why we love Karloff, Lugosi, Lorre and Price...all with a good sense of humor...their monster creations not pure evil like hockey-mask Jason or Freddie Krueger.

After The Hitmen went hitless, its two key members moved on to some actual success. Alan Wilder joined Depeche Mode. He was also in Recoil. Ben Watkins was on New Asia's album "Gates," and formed The Flowerpot Men. He was later part of Juno Reactor. In composer mode, he scored the Japanese film "Brave Story" and worked on the "Matrix" movie soundtracks. Another unusual credit: he contributed a key song to a Traci Lords album.

As the lovable Lolita Ms. Lords recalls, once she began putting together her cash-in album, she decided to do something more than predictable erotica with a "sexy ambient vibe. Now I wanted something with a harder edge to add another dimension. I was introduced to producer Ben Watkins, who was known for his aggressive jungle beats. He was a wild man and very passionate about his music. I told Ben I wanted to do a song that had elements of rock and roll but with a techno vibe and he ran with it, creating a slamming heavy metal guitar intro on an insanely hyper track…"

Well, maybe so, Traci, but the slamming, insanely hyper "Bates Motel" is still a haunting number, a deadly heart-pumper that lives on…at least for fans of grunge-grave rock and Hitchcock.

Can you MASTER... BATES MOTEL

ILL-USTRATED SONGS # 27 - SMOTHERS BROS "LAST GREAT WALTZ" 1st Print Rarity

Here's a salute to freaks, Halloween, collectors items, and the retired Tom and Dick.

Yes, they went out with class, and without fanfare. The Smothers Brothers quietly turned down tour dates a year or so ago, and simply moved on to other things. They haven't staged a comeback tour, and there was no release of a multi-DVD set (sad to say). Actually, and this is unusual for comedy discs, a few of their albums should be re-issued on CD because the last vinyl pressing actually removed some tracks!

While almost no vinyl is really that collectible just because it's a 'first pressing,' in the case of Tom and Dick, you'l be missing some tracks if you happen to get a later pressing instead of the first.

"Map of the World," a nice addition to the canon of tattooed lady novelty songs, was dropped from the second pressing of "Two Sides of the Smothers Brothers." The first pressing of "Tour de Farce: American History" had three silly quickies, "Put-On Song," "Wagon Wheels" and "Military Lovers" and all were dropped from the second pressing. "Military Lovers" does turn up on the "Sibling Revelry" best-of CD, just to confuse matters further.

The later printings of "Mom Always Liked You Best" are without "The Last Great Waltz" (which was performed on their variety hour), along with the quick "My Favorite Holiday" and the serious "The World I Used to Know." Go figure. So, if you want ALL tracks, ye comedy record fan of elaborate obesity, try helping out a record store owner or eBay seller by buying some comedy albums for a dollar each. Most dealers don't know (or care) that the first pressing is more valuable than the second. It'll still be a dollar, cheap! Expecting to get everything free is just killing the economy and promoting Google and Nazi scum like Kim Doctom, and that ain't funny. (However, if you no longer own a turntable, as Emily Litella used to say..."nevermind..."an out of print comedy album at this point is not too likely to make a comeback on mp3. I'm just thinking the Smothers Brothers still have a good chance.)

So...only one tune below..."The Last Great Waltz," which might inspire you to dress up for Halloween as someone with three legs. Walking around with three legs would make you either the protagonist of this song, or the late John Holmes. This sample may remind you of how good these guys were. They were also restlessly inventive...they and their top writers, including Mason Williams. Why do just another novelty song, another folk song parody, when…you can experiment with tempo in an amusingly goofy way? Here's waltz time with a 3/4 beat for one dancer…but not the other. This is a deceptively hard song to sing and play

What a different time it was, when the brothers could get away with being this silly. Like The Beatles, the Smothers Brothers started the 60's as well-scrubbed and wholesome entertainers…and emerged with radical and political ideas, and a much more wicked sense of humor. But…going back to the early days, you just might still get a nostalgic kick out of this song about the three-legged woman. No Photoshop above, by the way…it's from the photographer Weegee, who worked pretty hard in a darkroom to create some of his oddities.

Last Great WALTZ Smothers Brothers

Three Songs of Madness, starting with...BRIGHT WHITE JACKETS

So many of the songs you hear endlessly around this time of year are just ooky-spooky kid stuff. Some of it is still good if it's not overplayed, from the Addams Family theme to "Monster Mash."

But the dull adults who regress around Halloween into giddy, pants-wetting little monsters just never stop, and that includes Tweets about what stupid limited edition action figure they just won on eBay, proudly idiotic Facebook snaps of themselves arm and arm at a memorabilia show with Conrad Brooks, or sharing their "slaylists" all over the Net…when they really should be caught in a net and tossed into a padded cell.

A good friend of mine, dead of course, was a cult actor who appeared in a lot of peculiar films, often as a character that was basically him doing his own macabre (to the point of parody) lines. His stand-up act was an equally bizarre mix of lunacy and tragedy. But despite being the type of guy who'd be a pal of (the equally late) Forry Ackerman (editor of "Famous Monsters") he wasn't particularly a fan of the ooky-spooky.

Paraphrasing him, he told me once, "The real horror is not Poe, not monsters…but our very existence. What happens when we die? Why is there such madness in the world, and how heartbreaking is it to find every precious day governed by anxiety and fear because your mind is going against you? Your mind torments you as uncontrollably as the heart can attack you. Then it's all over. All over…to nothing. That is horror, not what you can see and destroy with a stake through its heart, but what you are truly helpless to control; madness and death. That is the nightmare that truly haunts some of us all through the "fever called living."

I think we get a kick out of Halloween stuff involving Frankenstein's monster or zombies…because they're cartoonish targets; kill them and it purges our fears for a while. This is why the giddy asshole who dresses up as Uncle Fester and serves pumpkin pie and pumpkin latte at a Halloween party with his geek friends is not going to tune in a movie like "Frances" once everyone's sleepy and burping. He'll choose "Ghostbusters." Because a movie about mental illness, about cruelty, about the way paranoia or schizophrenia can turn a person's world into a neverending horror show, is a little TOO real. The reality that people can lose reality, or be achingly and acutely aware of reality (such as the fact that we DIE) is just not…well…HALLOWEENIE.

Which is why it's here, on this blog. Go listen to "Monster Mash" somewhere else (although Bobby Pickett's ecological re-make "Monster Slash IS here on the blog).

The blog is offering three very different songs about madness this time. The first is very much in the spirit of "Frances." It's by April Smith, who has, fortunately for her, gone on to become a kind of rock Betty Boop, using her Lauper-like voice for tasty, sometimes campy rock songs that aren't nearly as dire as this. Her albums are well worth buying (and I have) and she gives a wonderful and varied show with her band (I'll go see her any time) but there's only one "Bright White Jackets," a song I don't think she performs on stage these days. Not when folks come for retro love ballads and escapist rock spiced with humor.

The song is about a woman who is going off to therapy…which will involve medication, or perhaps brain surgery. It may take away her stress, anxiety and irrational fears, or the side-effects might eradicate her entire personality and leave her the walking wounded...tranquilized to stress but barely living. April's music video for the song, which harkens back to the 40's when Frances Farmer was dragged away to asylum hell, is pretty good, but this is the kind of song where you'd rather imagine it all for yourself. It didn't exactly match images I had, personalized to my own specific fears and fatalistic despair. But you can find the video on YouTube and hey, Google's cyclops will pay April a few pennies for the hit.

Listen to it as strictly audio first. April's voice hits notes here that have raised the hairs on my neck. There are "one hit wonder" songs that are a wonder because they are unique...same way a film is unique. In movies about madness, you'll find, among other unique gems, "Dementia," "Frances" and "Carnival of Souls," each different and impossible to duplicate and get the same effect. In songs about madness, there's everything from an Alice Cooper concept album to "Shine on Brightly" from Procol Harum to this song. Each is unique in tackling a certain aspect of mental illness. It's no surprise really that April never attempted to top it with anything similar.

This is a unique ballad, and it's matched by a unique singer with an expressive range and distinctive, magnificent voice.

APRIL SMITH BRIGHT WHITE JACKETS

A $162 single: ROSE BROOKS and "They're Coming to Take Me Away"

Turning from the dire mental dilemma facing Ms. Smith in the post above, let's lighten the mood with the dark and soulful…"They're Coming to Take Me Away,"apparently the lone single from Rose Brooks. On some of the collector websites, this single has gone for pretty impressive prices. Hey, what's with the racist "white label" pressing getting so much more than the regular one? What's up with THAT??!!

Jerry Samuels had a controversial hit with the song. As kids rushed to buy it, some adults protested that it should be banned for making fun of the mentally ill. It was really just a looney tune, but in the character of "Napoleon XIV," Samuels' creepy and possessed vocals did take comedy to the edge, and the unique drumming and speeded up vocal parts were ahead of their time. Quite a few retards dismissed the song as no big deal, because, after all, it was about a guy's lost dog, wasn't it? "I'll put you in the ASPCA you mangy mutt!" Uh, no.

This novelty hit spawned a wide variety of copycat and answer versions. Among the two DOZEN versions of the song, you'll find one done by comical effeminate gays (Teddy and Darryl), a pure copycat job (Duke of Waterloo), a Jewish-accented answer song from the crazy's girl ("I'm Happy They Took You Away" by Josephine XIII), and "Down on the Funny Farm Oy Vey" (Josephine XIII).

There was also a kind of answer song, "Don't Take Me Back" (Henry IX) in which our hero decides he likes his peaceful life in the nut hatch. Foreign versions? Sure, there's "Ze nemen me eindelijk mee ha-ha" from Hugo de Groot and "Ellos me quieren lievar" from Napoleon Puppy among others. And the song has continued to resonate in strange ways, having been covered by Tiny Tim (via Genya Ravan producing) and everyone's favorite musical tranny, Amanda Lear.

Below, the soul version from Rose Brooks, who was getting taken away to the funny farm years before Richard Pryor's overtly titled album "That Nigger's Crazy." It really didn't take all that long before the revolutions in pop music and in comedy, which were breaking down barriers in the late 60's, yielded a totally new field on which to play. The mutations in the 70's turned even the mild mannered Rupert Holmes into singing a love ballad called "Let's Get Crazy Tonight." Through the 80's and 90's, and now into the 21st Century, we are happily surrounded by the spawn of people who took way too many drugs while listening to their favorite crazy music. Halloween songs from the post 60's happily dabble in paranoia ("Somebody's Watching Me" by Rockwell") re-write old horror movies into much more psychotic rock ("Ballad of Dwight Fry" by Alice Cooper) or even offer light-hearted commentary on being put away ("Baldry's Out" by Long John Baldry).

"Lets get retarded!" the Black Eyed Peas chanted not too long ago. And here? An early pop tune that let's us know that blacks don't just get the blues. The caged bird can sing in the nut house, too.

COMING... To Take Me Away

MADWOMAN OF CORK

Our trifecta of Halloween madness concludes with "The Madwoman of Cork," which I came to know through the Irish Arts Center, which has promoted deserving Emerald Islanders ranging from Eleanor McEvoy to John Spillane. They've helped introduce many Irish performers to American audiences, and in promoting an appearance by Spillane, offered on their website a video of John performing this very dramatic song.

I was not familiar with the poem, or its author Patrick Galvin, until I heard Spillane, who added the music. Among the madwoman's dreams:

"I want to sail in a long boat, from here to Roche's Point. And t here I will anoint the sea with the oil of alabaster…" Which led me to Photoshop a Wm. Steig image (from his profoundly groundbreaking book of art-cartoons "The Lonely Ones") with a cork in a bottle.

Paddy Galvin (1927-2011) was, of course, more than an Irish poet, as the best of them always are. He was also a playwright prone to vehement works that promoted his particular political views and damned social traits that he found complacent. A colorful colleague to Brendan Behan, and showing the influences of Dylan Thomas (in his poetry readings), Galvin also was a singer and issued several albums in the late 50's. His colorful personality made him a favorite with the ladies, including some he would marry and divorce, and a few he'd borrow from friends. One of the more notorious examples was the affair he had with poet Ewart Milne's wife. Milne's book "Time Stopped" tried to turn the catastrophe into something poetic and literary. Milne, by the way, is somewhat immortal through his cat poem "Diamond Cut Diamond." The title reflects the way he arranged the words on the page to form, yes, a pair of diamonds.

52 year-old John Spillane isn't nearly as dark as "The Madwoman of Cork" song makes him out to be, a song that transform him on stage into the very image of eccentric menace. To quote Dan Regan, founder of the Kansas City Irish Festival, he's a "funny, quirky, massively entertaining….story teller...a shanachie.” John (yes, a native of Cork) has had his songs covered by some of Ireland's finest singers, including Karan Casey, Cathy Ryan, Sharon Shannon, and the legend himself, Christy Moore.

Spillane is a well-traveled performer who is not only popular in the U.K., but as far from it as Australia, where he's also appeared at many a folk festival. That's the mark of an enduring professional, a road warrior who just brings along his guitar and a good memory for traditional and self-penned songs. The definition of a hack would be anyone who tours…via cruise ships, performing oldies in front of middle-aged drunks, accompanied by inept guitarists and some birdshit drummer who sounds like he's bouncing a pair of turkey legs off a dinner plate.

John's latest album is "Life in an Irish Town," and he's got a TV show in Ireland on TG4 called 'Spillane na Fánaí' . For tour dates and other information, visit his dotcom, which is JohnSpillane (dot com!)

MADWOMAN OF CORK! John Spillane

No capcha codes, delays to make you buy a premium account from some Kim Dotcom-type criminal worse and more ruthless to artist payment and rights than the RIAA, no pop-ups, links to dodgy porn sites, and tip jar Paypal requests from the uploader.

LOUIS NYE - TEENAGE BEATNIK

And here's a little salute to the (quite) late Louis Nye, who died on October 9, 2005. I had a little bit of corrrespondence with him, with some mutual respect, although I don't think "Teenage Beatnik" is anything he'd be remembered for. But this is a music blog, and it does try to specialize in obscure novelties. Nye's two solo albums were mostly spoken word…and one of them mostly keyed to his "Gordon Hathaway" character, the "mad man" ad exec of Madison Avenue.

Louis (May 1, 1913 – October 9, 2005) made a name for himself on Steve Allen's old "Tonight Show," with the artificially bright, foolishly full of himself and somewhat minty "Gordon Hathaway" character. As Gordon, Nye coined the fey greeting, "Hi-ho, Steverino."

For the next 40 years, fans would call out to Steve that way, and many an article affectionately referred to him as "Steverino" as well. But if you can find kinescopes or DVDs of Steve's show, you'll see that Nye, along with regulars Don Knotts and Tom Poston, were much more than the "Men in the Street" segment. They played a wide range of characters and were very much adept at physical comedy, too. Aside from Gordon Hathaway, Nye's most famous role was "Sonny Drysdale," the pretentious and pampered son of a banker on "The Beverly Hillbillies."

As for "Teenage Beatnik," it's hard to figure who was supposed to buy this thing. It was insulting to teenagers and to beatniks, and it's faux-rock music couldn't possibly be that amusing to the middle-aged middle-of-the-road crowd. And where would they hear it, since the soft music stations of that era were playing nothing but Mantovani, and the Top 40 stations wouldn't dream of alienating the teen audience by tossing it on the turntable. Nye's also using his comic-effeminate voice, which is neither teenage nor beatnik. (I'm not sure if he ever performed this on TV...or dressed the way I've Photoshopped him!) No wonder it's hard to find anywhere but here.

LOUIS NYE as the... Teenage Beatnik

John Lennon would've been 73 today. ELEANOR MCEVOY: OCTOBER 9th

October 9th, back in 2004: mid-way into her set, Eleanor McEvoy asked the audience, "Anyone know what day this is?"

From my ringside seat, I answered, "Yes...John Lennon's birthday." "Is it?" "Yes...October 9th." "Really. I didn't know that..."

The reason she asked if anyone knew the date, was so that she could segue into her song, "October 9th," which, because it's very sad and about a person gone missing, she only sings if it actually is October 9th.

While Eleanor wrote it about the disappearance of a girl, not someone assassinated, the theme of it is loss and helplessness. You can listen to it, and think of Etan Patz, of those who perished during 9/11, or other events and situations where "have you seen this person" photos appeared in newspapers or on lamp posts. And you can also listen to it and think about a loved one who was last seen in happier times, and simply does not exist anymore; not coming back from hospital, not returning home.

This is a simple, stark song about how quickly tragedy can happen...and how long it can take to heal in any way at all. In the song, her family puts up the posters describing her and when she was last seen...an act of futility dressed as hope.

After the show, I mentioned to Eleanor that home-made "last seen" signs, xeroxed with a snapshot of the missing loved one, were vivid on bus shelters and lamp posts and in store windows after 9/11, and stayed up until the rains and wind mottled and bent them, and the faces and names on them were faded and streaked.

And speaking of streaked, just a few days ago, John's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame was defaced by graffiti. Nobody did a thing about it...it was up to a fan to clean it, and then search around to find some kind of chemical that could be burnished into the plaque to make it more resistant to another attack of paint and ink. Sad to say that at this point, Lennon, like Abraham Lincoln, John and Bobby (the "Dead Kennedys") and so many others are getting forgotten or even disrespected by a generation rejecting anything or anyone we've come to admire. And let's not forget all the humorous Photoshop memes that turned people jumping from the World Trade Center into Olympic divers...or how quickly people forget about children slaughtered by gunfire in Connecticut or blown up in Boston. Bring it up and ask for gun control and you get scorn. Mention the greatness of John Lennon and the eyes roll and the reply is, "There's a guy by the name of Springsteen..."

One of the nice things about having a real CD instead of a blip in your iPod, is you have the artist's complete vision, the artist's song order, and a booklet and lyrics. You also have something that can be autographed. For me, asking for singer or writer to autograph my item is a way of saying, "This is extra special to me. I will always keep it. What you've done is not just worth putting your name on, it's something you can pridefully sign as a great achievement." The autograph is reproduced here, amended a bit in tribute to John.

"Last Seen October 9th" appears on "Yola," Eleanor's first album after going indie. She's issued many more since, stubbornly insisting on the best quality recording and the best SACD reproduction of the CDs, even if most people buy inferior sounding mp3 files (which don't pay much in royalties from the download monopolies like Amazon or iTunes and almost nothing via Spotify).

I saw Eleanor recently in concert, and she is better than ever...a varied show of sad songs, upbeat songs, political songs...with often ironic and funny introductions, too. Not just a singer-songwriter with a guitar, her versatile set will include songs at the piano (she even sang a Piaf cover in French), and, Sapristi, the woman can sing and play the violin at the same time! She is the genius of Ireland's music scene, and if your collection of music includes Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell, somewhere there should be a place for Eleanor McEvoy.

Eleanor MceVoy

OCTOBER 9th Listen on line, no pop-ups, porn ads or wait time.

PS...did you know Paul McCartney and Nancy Shevell were married on John's birthday last year? So romantic...

HOMER & JETHRO Contemplate AGING & DEATH

In the late 60's, Homer and Jethro were slowing down. The aging "thinking man's hillbillies" had mellowed. Times had changed, too. "The Beverly Hillbillies," "Green Acres," "Gomer Pyle" and other rural TV shows began dropping out of the Top 20.

The Top 20 Billboard charts had "crossover" stars such as Bobbie Gentry and Glen Campbell moving toward the middle of the road. The aging duo that once poked manic fun at The Beatles, and got some jeers for it, weren't sure how far to go in making fun of "hippies." The old standby of cackling parodies involving ugly women…well, with women's lib, that kind of cornography was OUT.

Just as George Jones moved from high-pitched twangy things like "Why Baby Why" to baritone ballads and "He Stopped Loving Her Today," Homer and Jethro eased up and began making albums that were more "songs that have some humor to them" rather than outright novelty tracks. They also chose material that was "age appropriate." In other words...they started singing about aging. And death.

Back when they were 30 or 40, they made fun of old people as they did ugly women. A frisky parody of Hank Williams' "Settin' the Woods on Fire" chortled at someone "too old to cut the mustard." The comedy version of George Jones' "The Race is On" is sung fast and lively, even the line: ""My mind was making appointments my body just couldn't keep!"

By the end of the 60's? The end was in sight. "Old Grand Dad" points up some sad truths, and the "boys" are singing like older men. "Sow Sow Sow Your Oats" and "Laugh and Scratch" are more philosophical and upbeat about what to do until the reaper comes. Bill Clinton, on Letterman's show last week, said "every day's a gift." He said it after Letterman mentioned that they both had recovered from bypass heart surgery. Homer and Jethro's view on the gift of being alive another day? Drink whiskey! And remember: "Who's to say what's right and what's wrong? Keep laughin' and scratchin' we're not here for long."

Homer Haynes died of a heart attack in 1971. He was 55 years old.

OLD GRAND DAD Homer and Jethro

SOW SOW SOW YOUR OATS / LAUGH AND SCRATCH Homer and Jethro