Billy Walker: Sex Symbol

Aside from collecting terrible album covers, I am also somewhat of a cowboy shirt aficionado.  I own about a dozen vintage shirts and wear them all the time. I don't think I own a beauty like this though...

Just look at him... Looking all majestic/ creepy in his Freddie style neckerchief. The shirt gloriously yelling "Look at me, world. I am one sexy fucking cowboy and I am ready to  impregnate some farm girls!" And don't even get me started about those painted on trousers... SPLOOSH.

Even the horse looks like he is ready for the stud pasture. Just a man and his horse and his rose patterned blouse roaming around the desert, singing of lost loves, guns, guitars and outlaws. I imagine a lot of lonely nights, campfires, star filled skies with no company around for miles... just the horse... that muscular, well groomed horse. Yes, I am sure Mr. Walker and his trusty stallion were close friends.

I scored this record at an amazing junk shop in the small town of Bruce Mines, Ontario.  The owner, Mike, was a great guy who had some amazing records to go along with a jam packed warehouse of lost treasures. Check him out on facebook at Mae-Ger Treasures and if you are ever in the area, stop by and stay the hell away from the records... Those are mine...

Let's Go To Church!!!

So as many of you, my loyal readers, know I am fascinated by religious album covers.  For something that is supposed to show faith and loyalty to an omniscient holy being, the Christian zealots who release this stuff sure seem to choose the absolute weirdest looking mooks to do it.  I know Jesus was supposed to be a loving and forgiving diety but no one, not even Jesus, could forgive these guys for wearing these turtlenecks/ sweater vest combos.  WOW! And let's not let the lady off the hook either... "Hello? Wardrobe director of Little House On The Prairie? Did some blond Christian woman singing about the glory of God happen to steal Nellie Olsen's dress?"

I found this gem at a Value Village for $1.49.  I almost fell to my knees and screamed PRAISE JEBUS!  This is actually a holy grail of bad album cover collecting.  Its on a few sites dedicated to such things.  I am not sure what the monetary value is on something this terrible/ awesome but it was certainly worth the cash I laid down for it.  I mean come on... Look at those polyester trousers!  you could cut a $2 steak on those pleats!  Amazing!!! 

Jay's Favourite Band

Yes... This is certainly an album cover that fits the bill as a "bad" album cover.  But in 1984 when Morris Day and The "Muthafuckin'" Time (A shout out to Jay of Clerks, Mallrats, and other Kevin Smith movies fame) released this monster, they were some bad ass purveyors of funk.  They may look ridiculous in hindsight but these dance demons from Minneapolis were the shit back in the day.

Back in late 1980, Prince (yeah... THAT Prince) decided to form a band to serve as an outlet for material that was reminiscent of his early tracks so he could focus more on experimenting with new genres and symbol based names.  The Time was this band.  Prince may have held their hand at the beginning but with Morris Day, Jellybean Johnson, Jimmy Jam and the likes recruited, The Time soon became a solid funk army in no time. 

Most people remember them from the movie,"Purple Rain" and their catchy as hepatitis track, "Jungle Love."  Or well... most people don't actually remember them at all but if you do remember them, chances are its from either of these two things...

Now on to the suits/ hair... I will never say a bad word about Morris Day.  That pimp had style.  More arrogant than a three term Republican senator, Morris Day could pull off any suit.  The rest of the band, well, that is another story all together.  Look at the Jheri curled dude in the pink suit!  Seriously... Dude... White boots?  Who the hell do you think you are? Dale Evans? And the little white kid with his orange pin striped Zoot Suit!  Go back to grade 10 and study your chemistry.  You have a test next Wednesday!

"Ice Cream Castle" may have you laughing at the fashion of the day and possibly convince you to never give it a chance musically but this album is a stone cold jam.  Cover to cover.  What time is it?  A quarter past FUNK!

I need to grow a killer moustache...

Growing up, I was always surrounded by moustaches.  It was the late 70's and everyone wore a cookie duster.  It was a right of passage for most young boys entering manhood.  And the thicker, more lush the lip weasel, the more likely you were to succeed in life, as well as with the ladies.  Moustaches were simply THE TITS!

But somewhere along the line the dirt squirrel fell out of favour with men and certainly with females.  In the 80's, the preppy look took over and flavour savers became a facial fashion faux pas.  Moustaches were viewed as things pedophiles and porn stars wore.  It was a sad day to be one who rocked a womb broom.

But in the new millenium staches have made somewhat of a comeback.  Movember is fast becoming a huge deal in countries like Canada, Australia and the UK.  Gone are the days when mothers would shelter their children whenever they saw a lip rug.  They had once again become fashionable... or at least socially acceptable.

This record, from 1980 (the salad days of face furniture), displays some incredible Kentucky lip cozies.  Look at that mandolin guy??? Freddy Fender has nothing on that lush lip toupee.  And the banjo player??? He looks like he could strain a pint of milk out of that beauty!

I haven't even listened to this record but I know I would love it.  Three staches, a goatee and one sad little dude without a trace of face fungus could not make a bad album.  Its basically impossible. The album is called "For Our Friends" and by the looks of all their pals in the background, I can assess that they surrounded themselves with fellow misplaced eyebrow aficionados because they realized the awesome power staches hold.  A smart career move on their part.  I salute you, Dixie Flyers, for reminding me of the good old days when lip spinach was almost a necessity if you wanted to get laid! 

Basically the only reason I buy jazz records...

As I have stated numerous times in previous posts, I am not a fan of jazz.  There are a few exceptions but as a rule, I like jazz records about as much as I like the Kardashians.  In my eyes, they are both a plague on society and should be eradicated.

But there is one thing I love about some jazz records.  The incredible cover art.  This LP from Bud Freeman with vocals by The Demarco Sisters has beautiful artwork. Vibrant colours.  Abstract forms.  Perfect fonts.  This is one of my favourite covers of all time. 

This particular album came from the box of records my aunt bought for me for two bucks that I had mentioned a few posts back.  Most of the box was filled with crap but there were like five or six keepers.  This one, which is actually worth like $40-50, deserves more than being placed on a shelf.  I might actually frame it and hang it on my wall. 

I cannot find a signature or a name of the artist but I would pay some serious cash money to find more work by him/ her.  If anyone knows the artist, please contact me. 

Post Script... After a listen, there is one track on this record that I actually dig.  Its called "The Atomic Age" and its a stone cold jam.

Cò an caora sin còmhla riut a chunnaic mi an-raoir?

The past few days have been interesting.  A very close friend whom I hadn't talked to in far too long contacted me through the interweb.  She lives in Scotland and it got me thinking about all things Scottish.  I decided to flip through some old bins to see if I could not find an appropriate record for the occasion.

This record is about as Scottish as it gets.  From Kenneth McKellar's lovely tartan socks to his in no way effeminate kilt to his half drunk on thick beer smile, this album cover screams your average Tuesday night in Glasgow!

"Roamin' In The Gloamin'" features a bunch of classic Scottish songs like "The Cockle Gatherer," "Scotland The Brave" and "Bonnie Wee Thing."  Although I am not a fan of anything on this album, you have to appreciate the cover.  He looks so proud... and drunk... which is also a measure of Scottish pride. 

I make fun of Scots and their raging alcoholism but stereotypes are based in fact.  Case in point, my friend messaged me this morning complaining of a hangover and disavowing tequila for all eternity.  I love that girl!!!

So yeah... Go to Scotland.  Drink your face off.  And get Kenneth McKellar's autograph.  And then drink some more.

Post Script... The title of this post means "Who was that sheep I saw you with last night?" in Gaelic... A common phrase in Scotland, I am sure.

How pathetic...

As I was flipping through some new record purchases I saw this beauty.  I had forgotten I had even bought it.  It was unearthed at a garage sale in an old shed that smelled of dust and junk obsession.  It was loaded with moldy records and knick knacks of compulsions past.

I bought this particular record because the cover art is so heartbreaking and pathetic.  It features a guy on a park bench who was probably just minding his own business and thinking about how to get back at that two-timing, beehived bitch of an ex-girlfriend.  Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the ex strolls past him with THE GUY!  That asshole guy he sorta knew from his ex's work.  So instead of just getting up to leave, our hero just hangs his head and boo hoos like the broken man he has become.

The girl, who thinks she's all that with her green skirt and her dumb face, looks sadly over at the man she destroyed with an expression of sickening pity mixed with a dash of "God... He's such a loser."  She has no idea what she has done to this guy.  He loved her.  He truly did.

The new guy's face is hidden but I imagine he is saying, "Come on babe... You don't need to see this shit."  He too has no clue as to the damage he helped create.  He is simply trying to get her out of there before she has second thoughts or at least before she backs out of the previously mentioned bout of sweaty fornicating.

Yes... This album cover tells an entire story.  It may seem sad to the average record collector/ blogger but I am not your average record collector/ blogger.  I know what happens after this tableau ends.  The love sick protagonist of this story goes home to collect his thoughts.  He looks in a mirror and gains strength from his agony.  Then he goes out, buys a chainsaw and kills them both in a brutal act of vengeance.  Good for him... Good for him...

Post Script... This record is actually worth a decent chunk of change.  Got it for free and have seen it on ebay for as much as $120!!! Score!!!

I needed this today...

I awoke this morning to the sound of rain and an air of melancholy.  I wasn't feeling my old confident self.  There were particles of self doubt floating in the ether.  I am not sure what happened between when the sandman put me under his spell and the rooster cock-a-doodled but I just wasn't myself this morning.

Luckily, my aunt gave me a box of records she purchased at a garage sale for a paltry $2.  As I flipped though them, disdainfully viewing the many Ray Conniff and Mitch Miller albums, I came across this gem.  Immediately I recognized it as a sign of changing winds.  Just the sight of the cover began filling me with that spark that was missing from my morning coffee.  "Music for Courage and Confidence."  I could not believe my good fortune!

Needless to say, this album delivered on its bold title.  After a quick listen I was ready to take on the world.  No longer would the all encompassing gloom of my morning stop me from becoming the hero of the day.  I was going to paint that painting.  I was going to climb that mountain.  I am going to flirt with that girl who barely knows I am alive.  Rejection better just back the fuck off today or he will become a victim of my upbeat wrath. 

I feel like going outside and telling the sunshine that it better get its ass back here or shit is going to go down.  The thunderstorm that is rolling through already looks frightened by my over the top optimism.  Thanks, Aunt Cathy for saving me from my own misguided yet very real bout of the Mondays (even though its Thursday).  I love you.

Post Script... I may be losing it... Thoughts???

Boobs!!!

I have been giving some thought on what to say about such a 'revealing' album cover.  I could start with the obvious and talk about her rocking boobs.  I could even go he high road and discuss the objectification of women in the vinyl collecting world.  But I think I will simply start with the fact that this album cover could NEVER happen today.  The self righteous, Wal-Mart shopping, puritanical Christian crowd would absolutely lose their collective shit. 

We seem to think we have progessed as a species.  We think we are better people than we were just 50 years ago. And in many ways, we are.  Racism is no longer socially acceptable.  Women are making great strides in the work place.  Gay rights have become a top issue.  But the one place where we seem to have regressed is in the realm of free thought and artistic acceptance.  I am by no means saying that this is a great piece of art.  It isn't.  Its simply a crude and crass comedy album that time has long forgotten. The point I am making is that 40 years ago, this type of album cover was accepted.  Today the pitchforks would be out and Billy Devroe (The Comedian) would be lambasted on every 24 hours news/ entertainment channel from here to Beijing.

I am not sure how I got into a rant about artistic freedom from looking at some woman (who is likely in her late 60's/ early 70's by now) who was photographed for a raunch comedy album decades ago but whatever... I did. Listening to music or looking at films today fills me with a sense of disgust.  The art world used to be full of rebellion and change.  Now its a vat of homogenized horse shit.  Our kids are force fed the Rihannas and Lady Gagas of the world and cannot see that they are being duped.  These are not role models.  These are high controlled commodities who are told what to wear, what to say and when to shit.  They are robot hookers who do what they are told for cash. 

Dude... I really wanted to make this post funny.  I wanted to talk about how her husband today probably puts this cover in front of her all the time and asks why she doesn't look like THAT anymore.  I wanted to make fun of the album title by saying instead of 'She Gives Trade Stamps' it should read 'She Has Tramp Stamps' or something like that... I dunno... I really did have some top notch humour set out for this but I woke up grumpy.  Friggin' rain!!! 

Ummmm...

 I am not even sure where to start with this record.  I guess I should state that I sort of fancy myself somewhat of an expert on terrible album covers.  There are a few sites on the old interweb dedicated to such things.  There are actual holy grails of collectible bad covers.  Yet with all my knowledge of the genre I have never seen, nor heard, of this album.  This record cover is simply the worst in my collection.  There is not even a close second. 

I came across this record this week in a Value Village.  I was attending a wedding out of town so I decided to go and do some digging the day before.  Most Value Villages have the same picked over stock littered with Barbara Streisand and Bee Gees albums so expectations were low.  In the third stack, behind a copy of a beat up Dionne Warwick album

was this forgotten treasure.  I could not believe my good fortune.  I felt like I had unearthed a previously undiscovered dinosaur skeleton.  It was so idiotic and ridiculous that it wasn't possible for me to have not known about this!  I felt like a rank amateur.  I felt like a sommelier who had never heard of Chateaux Lafite-Rothschild 1869.  (How is that for an obscure reference???)

After I paid my $1.49, I could not find a record player fast enough.  Was the music as terrible as the cover?  Luckily, it was worse.

"You're My Superwoman, You're My Incredible Man" by Louise Mandrell and RC Bannon is possibly the most perfect example of the bad album.  From the cover art which features both artists in super hero costumes that look like they were stitched together from the polyester remains of the wardrobe department of "The Greatest American Hero" set to the comic sans font on the back cover, this album has absolutely every bullet point when going down a checklist of bad album must-haves.  Case in point... The back cover has a picture of Ms. Mandrell holding a stool with one hand.  On this stool sits Mr. Bannon, looking like a creepy child lover, eating an ice cream cone.  His facial expression says, "Come hither young boy for I want to lick you in the manner in which I am licking this yummy strawberry cone."  Too friggin' disturbing!!! I love it!!!

Although, Ms. Mandrell does know how to fill out a knock-off Wonder Woman costume, she should never have agreed to this.  Seriously... who would ever let themselves be photographed for something that was just waiting to come back to haunt them in a random internet blog decades later?  The art director, whose name is actually on the cover, Gabrielle Raumberger, should have been bashed in the head with the heaviest, bluntest instrument available at the time.  A public lynching would not have been an over reaction. 

The music is your standard country fare from this era.  Mundane and boring it does not do the cover art justice.  I am not sure what they would have had to record to live up to the this eyesore.  One of the tracks, "Some Of My Best Friends Are Old Songs," actually makes me feel that some of my best friends are old, SHITTY album covers. 

This album was enlightening to me.  It helped remind me that there are still many covers out there that I have yet to discover.  It humbled me.  It filled me with a sense of wonder and with a renewed vigor for finding that perfect bad album cover.  I am not sure I will ever find anything to top this one but I will never again be so bold as to think it might not be out there waiting for me.  Thank you Louise Mandrell and RC Bannon.  I will never forget you.

Rasa- Everything You See Is Me

In the past, I have reviewed a few records with "spiritual" tones and all that other hippie, Hare Krishna cheese.  This is another of those albums.  Although most of the tracks on this record are new age-ish and, apart from great production value, absolutely terrible, there is one killer jam.  The first song on side B, "Chanting," does not fall in line with the other tracks which are the equivalent of audio hepatitis.

As stated above, the production value is high on this album.  Everything sounds great... except the music.  I now know where those salmon robed, bald headed jerks who bother you on the streets of larger cities and in airports spend the money they beg from passersby.  Its spent on quality studio time... not on enlightenment or cruelty-free, lemon grass based energy smoothies.

I found this at a Value Village for a buck.  I grabbed it simply because in the liner notes they thanked George Harrison, Stevie Wonder and Neil Diamond for their contributions.  Unfortunately, it was likely in the financing of the record and certainly not in the songwriting.  Apart from "Chanting" which is a stone cold jam, this is about as entertaining as a dinner party with your tenth grade science teacher, your ex-girlfriend who couldn't understand what's great about Sonic Youth and a box of dirty towels.  Still, because of "Chanting" it was worth the dollar I spent.



Stats...
Artist: Rasa
Title: Everything You See Is Me
Label: Govinda
Year: 1978
Matrix: RA 106
Size: 12"
Speed: 33.3

Weekly Digital Mixtape #12

So, for this week I was planning a set full of angst, anger and rage to commemorate my recent break-up.  It was to be my "Girls Are Dumb" Edition but well... Circumstances and opportunities change quickly in this age of the interweb and I don't need to vent with this week's version of the Weird Wax Digital Mixtape.  This week is a week of optimism.  A week of living in the now.  A week in which I have chosen my absolute favourite pop songs.  Each song in this edition is, in my most humble opinion, a perfectly crafted Rock/Pop song.  These may not be my favourite songs of all time but they are songs I will continue to listen to over the next 50 years.  Fingers crossed on that one... I have a lot of things to do before I shed this mortal coil.

This week's mixtape features tracks from The Cars, The Beatles, Jay Reatard, The 13th Floor Elevators, Eric's Trip, Sloan, The Yardbirds, The One And Onlys, Simple Minds, Pavement and The Beach Boys.  Like I have said, these may not be my favourite songs.  These may not even be my favourite songs by each of these bands.  But each song is a reminder of how imaginative, creative and catchy something as simple as a standard three minute, radio friendly composition can truly be.  These songs, my friends, are the audio equivalent of a religious epiphany.  Enjoy...

You can download the week's mixtape HERE for free...