Endless boogie...

Hi. How are you? Fine I hope.

Well, seeing as how I am no longer blogging from the library or the men's restroom at McDonalds ('Free Wifi!'), I will now attempt (not commit) to conform to the tighter strictures of posting party discipline (or at the very least a starting pitcher's rotation). And because I have been so lax in the discharge of my duties, this time I will give you two sides of an entire LP instead of one measly little 45, though, likely after hearing this tepid collection of white soul with boogie brown sauce, you will not be thanking me for my indulgence.

V/A, 'LIVE AT THE ZODIAC' (Zodiac, 1973)


If ebay listings, collectorsfrenzy and the Acid Archives are to be believed, this 1973 Jackson, MS. night club live album is tee-total 100% KILLER UNKNOWN HEAVY PSYCH ROCK through and through. I didn't know Santana and Sly Stone covers were called psych these days, but I guess that's what it means to be a life-long learner.

Of little interest probably to anyone save local collectros and (maybe) the most fanatical of mid 70s rock supremacists, the 'Live At The Zodiac' LP remains an enjoyable if unintentionally amusing portrait of regional, backwater club rock. The covers (8 of the album's 11 tracks) are mostly between two and three years old, the style of playing is either rote, rudimentary or Blueshammer and the one winner (if there is one) is also probably the least hard rocking thing on offer ('Your Love Took Me By Surprise' by Sweet Fever - a nifty piece of bubblegum/Philly Soul which I could see doing well on the Northern scene if Northern diggers were into picking up obscure 70s dirt-rock LPs; also a 45 on Malaco).

What else...

The discretion at which many of the songs are faded out tends to be arbitrary. The sound-quality on some cuts is much better than on others, giving the impression that some tracks may not be live at all. The DJ announcers between songs are not annoying nor are they particularly memorable; most of the time they just sound bored, as if unable to convince even themselves to feel excited about the bands they're supposedly hyping, though I was amused to find a young Walt Grayson counted amongst the credited on the album's rear side. Nowadays he hosts a rustic Mississippi travel program week-nights on PBS. If nothing else, after listening to this LP, I can understand why Ed Nasty was so pissed off.

Too bad there were no Lou Reed covers, as everyone represented on 'Live At The Zodiac' was most certainly still doing things that he gave up years ago. That backwards tendency above al makes me proud to hail from the Magnolia State. Enjoy?



1. ROYAL AMERICAN SHOWMEN - 'DANCE TO THE MUSIC' (SLY & THE FAMILY STONE)


2. MISSISSIPPI RAIN - 'THAT'S WHY I SING THE BLUES' (B.B. KING)


3. KATMANDU - 'MISSISSIPPI QUEEN' (MOUNTAIN)


4. STRAWBRIDGE - 'RUN RUN RUN' (JO JO GUNNE)


5. UNION JACK - 'NO ONE TO DEPEND ON' (SANTANA)


6. MACE - 'REVIVAL' (ALLMAN BROS)


7. EVERYBODY'S PILLOW - 'DON'T EAT THE CHILDREN' (BLOODROCK)


8. SWEET FEVER - 'YOUR LOVE TOOK ME BY SURPRISE'


9. AGE OF AQUARIUS - 'SLIPPIN INTO DARKNESS' (WAR)


10. PAPA JOE'S TRAVELING SHOW - 'MIAMI'


11. BACCHUS - 'WHERE ARE YOU GOING?'

Nat Turner's pinstripe dump

DAILY PLANET, 'LIFE' b/w 'PAY' (Riff Raf, 1980)

Yes, I will continue to write in the tedious first-person.

For those that know me, you are likely already well aware of the direct correlation existing between the length of my hair and the depth of my inner square. Similarly, the limit to my dick’s limpness (or color in 1972) should come as little surprise, requiring no advanced equations or line-judge booth reviews. It’s taken me a long time to accept, but... I am a nerd. I am just a power pop turd. And I can live with that. I’ve made peace with myself and my life-partner (a small fluffy white dog). We had a lovely ceremony last year at a lake-side chalet with matching vests and the singer from Off Broadway acting as the officiate. This is me, ya’ll! And I can finally, honestly and proudly now say that yes, I am a slave.

…anyway, mixing my anti-power pop song lyrics there. Thankfully less dangerous than mixing my drinks. And listening all about Los Angeles’ Daily Planet, you have to wonder if Bobby Soxx or M.Saunders/G. Turner might have been painting with too broad a brush.

How many promising new wave combos must suffer for the sins of the likes of Phil ‘N’ The Blanks or the Naughty Sweeties?????

Answer: most of them (like a skinny-tie Sodom).

Impossible to say or recreate the climate of the time, but I find it doubtful that Bobby or the Samoans would have found much with which to take issue (get it?!) with the sound/style being mined by Daily Planet. Recorded live at L.A.’s Club 88, both sides of D.P.’s lone single recall the Rickenbacker/high-energy spit-roast of groups like The Rockers or maybe even The Nerves if they had worn matching striped shirts instead of three-piece suits. Some of the members were originally from Chicago and apparently soldiered on in the Planet until at least ’82, at which point the writing was well and truly on the stall and it read DROP DEAD BABY.

A cool uncomped breath of fresh air before hardcore idiocy/Posh Boy mediocrity set in and made southern California safe for board shorts and Social Distortion tattoos forever.

Derp Burps For Lerp Twerps.

'LIFE'

'PAY'