Lawrence.com

Album: Clyde McPhatter – Lover Please!

Found at: Love Garden, $1

Label: Mercury

Sometimes I miss the backroom dealin’. Those days when you could walk into a dusty backroom, sift through a pile of records and wonder just what you might come up with. In the days of the old, upstairs location of Love Garden there was the shotgun room, or bargain room, as many of you surely remember. Everything in it was only a dollar and all sales were final. I didn’t often wander back there myself, but only because there was so much good stuff up front I didn’t often feel compelled to dig through the super deals.

I picked this up on one of my few forays into bargain territory. I knew of Clyde McPhatter as the former singer of Motown R&B act The Drifters, and there was a ridiculous looking doily heart on the cover, so I thought it was surely worth a dollar gamble. He’s a supreme vocal talent, there were a few recognizable cuts on it and it was on Mercury, a solid label. The record was cut after McPhatter’s time singing with the dominoes and his star making turn with The Drifters. He kicks things off with the title track, his silky smooth vocals pleading with a scorned lover. The pace is a sight more movin’ on the next two tracks “Pretty Girls Everywhere” and “Money Honey.” The latter is a call back to his Drifters days, and the version contained herein is worthy counterpart to the original, with Clyde slyly taking on both parts in a male/female conversation. He tries doing everything for her, but it comes down to money, honey. That’s what it’s going to take.

McPhatter wasn’t above doing covers, adding his own twist to smash hits like “Rockin’ Robin,” Don Gibson’s country hit “Oh Lonesome Me” and the Dominoes’ “Sixty Minute Man.” They all work well enough, with the possible exception of “Sixty.” McPhatter’s voice is smooth enough to deliver the barely concealed sexual innuendo, but just doesn’t have the dirty gravitas of Bill Brown’s bass voice on the 1951 original. That version, by the way, hit No. 1 on the R&B charts and was one of the first songs by a black group to cross over into the pop charts, eventually reaching No. 17.

The majority of these tunes are good time R&B numbers, made to get teens on the dance floor. I’m sure they were successful in that regard, but the real highlight of this disc, for my money, is “Next to Me.” An absolute heartbreaker, it dispenses with the good times and boasts of sexual prowess for a broken man to commiserate with a woman going through her own hard times. McPhatter’s voice soars, dropping pain in its wake as he wrenches every bit of emotion out of the line “You’re the saddest person I know/Next to Me.”

I was a bit sad when I brought this record home for the first time. I didn’t inspect it very closely and it turns out side one was covered in mold. I got it out again expecting only to play side two and curse Mary Ann Berskey, whose name is handwritten on the back sleeve, for not taking better care of her records. But apparently it’s been long enough for the mold to die of old age, and now the first side plays with just a bit of static. It turns out this is a backroom deal that paid off slowly.

Clyde McPhater - Lover Please! by MikeKrings

Album: AC/DC – Highway to Hell

Found at: Audio-Reader For Your Ears Only sale, $1

Label: Atlantic

I doubt a dollar has ever rocked this hard.

Every year I manage to luck my way into a few surprise finds that turn out excellent at the For Your Ears Only Sale. It’s not every year that I score an undisputed classic for only a buck.

That was the case a few years back when I found this one among the boxes on the rock table. AC/DC’s sixth – and many would argue best – studio album, it’s also the last with original singer Bon Scott, coming out a few months before he drank himself to death. It’s also the first of the band’s records produced by John Robert “Mutt” Lange, later of “married to Shania Twain” fame. The boys from down under were never ones to waste time or foist gimmicks upon their fans, and that is evident on this one as they jump straight into the fist-pounding rock with the title track. It’s become something of an anthem, but the tune still sounds fresh, jumping right off the disc with Bon’s infectious yowls leading the way. The Young brothers put down a riff thicker than a kangaroo’s coat and don’t look back ‘til the very last note.

Perhaps the album’s best track, and arguably my favorite of all their tunes, “Girl’s Got Rhythm,” follows. Angus puts down an even hotter riff than the first track while Bon tells us how he’s been around the world and seen a million girls. Given his reputation, that’s probably not a huge exaggeration. However, in all his travels and rock star sinning, he’s never met a girl like this one; she’s got not just any rhythm, but back seat rhythm. AC/DC did probably a better job than any band in history of replacing a member post-death when they brought in Brian Johnson. But his lyrics, while perfectly serviceable, tend to be a bit cheaper and not quite as clever as Scott’s, even when he was singing about something as simple as this.

“Walk All Over You” and “Touch Too Much” follow, the latter another scorcher. “Beating Around the Bush,” something these guys never cottoned to, closes out side one.

The second side is a bit weaker, but that’s hardly a knock. It really hits stride with “If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It).” Angus rips through another searing solo while Malcolm and bassist Cliff Williams do a more than adequate job of putting down backing vocals. They’re even better on the following track “Love Hungry Man.” Phil “no fills, no frills” Rudd is a workman on the drums throughout the album. He shows up, does exactly what needs to be done and doesn’t complicate the proceedings by getting fancy.

There are plenty of AC/DC detractors out there. Those that would say having a drummer that doesn’t play fills is a liability. More commonly I hear people complain that all their songs sound the same. I’ll concede that point to a degree. They don’t all sound the same, even though they are quite similar. But who cares? These guys put together a formula that works. If you don’t like their good-time riffing and fist pounding rock anthems, then maybe rock and roll just isn’t your thing. I for one am glad I’ve never heard an AC/DC concept album or collection of acoustic covers.

Sure some of the albums aren’t as strong as “Highway to Hell,” but that’s bound to happen when a band records for 30-plus years. Say what you want about “Black Ice” or latter-day AC/DC, but “Highway to Hell” is unimpeachable for my dollar.

AC/DC - Highway to Hell by MikeKrings

Album: Randy Newman - Little Criminals

Found at: Kief’s $0.91

Label: Warner Bros.

Short people have no reason to live. And for only $0.91, I had no reason to pass up this record.

During my last trip to Kief’s I gravitated for the bargain section, as I am wont to do, and started thumbing through. A few boxes in I found Randy Newman looking out at me from an overpass of an L.A. Freeway. I owned Newman’s “Little Criminals,” but not the one with one of his biggest hits, “Short People.” That satirical classic is the first track on side one, so I figured I’d put down a buck and roll the dice, assuming I wouldn’t like the rest of the record as much as the aforementioned short folks tune.

A few years before he became known largely for film scores, writing themes for Disney movies and winning Oscars, Newman was quite the biting satirist. While plunking away methodically on his piano he’d sing songs from the perspectives of all sorts of unreliable narrators – slave traders, red necks, short people-hating lunatics and Sigmund Freud. “Short People” is one of the best examples of that dynamic. Newman tinkles the keys while recounting a litany of why short people have no reason to live. Among those, their little hands, little eyes and propensity for great big lies. And worst of all, you have to pick ‘em up just to say hello.

No matter how obvious the sarcasm is, some people just won’t get it. According to KU English lecturer Iain Ellis’ book “Rebels Wit Attitude: Subversive Rock Humorists” one diminutive Maryland lawmaker was so irked by the song he moved to ban it from his fine state’s airwaves. More sane heads prevailed, and as is so often the case, the controversy more than likely helped the tune’s popularity. Also, check out Ellis’ book, it’s a fun read, full of stories of rockers bucking the norm and giving voice to rebellion through humor. Plus, it was written by one of KU’s own.

The rest of the record pretty much follows in the same vein, Randy on piano, singing along slowly in his unique, some-might-say altogether different voice. He goes for heartbreak on “Texas Girl at the Funeral of Her Father” in the persona of the title character and gets slightly more upbeat on “Kathleen (Catholicism Made Easier).” The latter tells the story of a young man about to wed an Irish girl in a Chicago courtyard. Having the love of an Irish girl – he’s always been crazy about ‘em – makes taking a life of Priests, nuns and religious family a little easier to swallow.

Perhaps the most interesting track is “Sigmund Freud’s Impersonation of Albert Einstein in America.” Newman recounts Einstein’s defection from his native Germany to Switzerland, and ultimately to the United States. America, the land graced by God, which managed to whip the Filipinos and rule the Western Sea, surmises Freud. A land that dreams of little gypsies and little boys playing baseball in the rain is after all “the best dream man has ever dreamed.” Again, Newman’s sarcasm nearly drips off the record.

Most of the record is unremarkable. While the lyrics are clever, the delivery never goes much of anywhere. Eagles Glenn Frey, Joe Walsh and Don Henley –huge stars at the time of the record’s 1977 release – drop by to add some guitars and backing vocals on a few of the tracks, but never really stand out. This is Randy’s record, and as one who is definitely no fan of the Eagles, that’s just fine by me.

Randy Newman’s records aren’t going to pack the dance floor at your next party, but they more than fit the bill when you’re in the mood for some incisive, razor-sharp satire. I probably won’t be spinning this one real often, but when I want a chuckle I’ll be sure to spin “Short People” on the turntable. That sounds like a hoot.

Randy Newman - Short People by MikeKrings

Album: – Paradise Moods

Found at: Kief’s $3.91

Label: Sunset, subsidiary of Liberty Records

I don’t hold many grudges. It’s a waste of time to stay mad about anything, especially when it’s something out of your control. But there is one thing that’s not made me angry, but always made me wonder what if, especially when winter comes around.

You see, before my older brother or I were born, my parents lived in Hawai’i for about a year. They were young, carefree and I’m sure they had a great time on the islands, but eventually they decided to come back to their roots, trade the sun and sand for snow and corn fields, and raise a family in Nebraska. About the only Hawai’ian souvenir I had was a beach towel with the islands on it that I took to the public pool in the summer.

That is until a few Christmases ago, when a good friend gave me a Martin Denny record for Christmas. The “Father of Exotica,” Denny traded in a style of music I was almost completely unfamiliar with. The Latin beats, sly piano, sensuous percussion and guys making very convincing bird calls were something I didn’t hear much growing up in the cold Midwest. I took to it right away, recognizing it for its novelty, but more for its ability to provide a great soundtrack for a nice dinner or a laid back party.

So when I saw “Paradise Moods,” a 1970 release, in the Kief’s bargain bin for $3.91, I knew right away I was going to add it to my collection – the 1959 classic “Quiet Village” being the one I acquired via Christmas gift. Like the one I already owned, the cover had a pretty young lady in a bikini casting a transfixing gaze, this time from what appears to be some tall native grass.

The first side sets the mood with “Temptation,” as vocalists appear for the first of just a few times, humming lightly in the background as a mellow fuzz sound slides over the top of a relaxed bongo beat. Denny, a pianist and composer, was adept at taking a Latin or smooth jazz beat and putting all sorts of exotic arrangements with instruments from all over the world on top of it. He did just that on the next few numbers “Blue Paradise” and “Love at Sight.” The coolest track of the first side by far, though, is “Jungle Madness.” As the name implies it sets up a jungle rhythm as the guys in the band make all manner of bird calls. If you haven’t heard exotica, I know that sounds quite weird, but Denny and his band ably pull this all off without sounding jokey or even slightly odd.

I’ve read the band started adding the bird calls as a lark after realizing that the bullfrogs they heard croaking outside a Hawai’ian lounge they played one night made for good accompaniment. They got quite good at it and it became part of the repertoire, just like another exotic instrument they would find as they traveled the globe.

In addition to his original compositions, Denny was also skilled at taking popular songs and giving them a re-working with a more tropical arrangement. He does just that with “Singin’ in the Rain” and “Siboney” on side two, the former a much smoother rendition than the famous show tune, with the vocals completely removed and the focus put on a delicate bongo beat. “Siboney” throws out the fastest tempo by a sight on the record and features what would be considered a traditional drum set for the only time on the whole disc before things close out with another smooth, sexy tune.

I’ve never been to Hawai’i, yet when I was a kid I could never understand why anyone would want to leave that paradise for the frozen plains. As I’ve grown up I’ve come to understand the importance of being close to home and family, but I still can’t help but wonder what might have been had they stayed in the middle of the Pacific. And to be perfectly clear, I’m certainly not upset about how things turned out. I like to imagine though, that while they were exploring the islands, they took the time to sip on a Mai Tai in a cool Tiki lounge, with Denny’s tunes in the air. Maybe someday I’ll ask them if they ever did. Then again, maybe I won’t, I kind of like the romantic notion my imagination has conjured.

Martin Denny - Paradise Moods by MikeKrings

Album: Jr. Walker and the All Stars

Found at: Friend’s garage sale, $2

Jr. Walker and the All Stars - Road Runner by MikeKrings

Cheap and dirty is not as bad as it sounds. Depending on what you apply the adjectives to, in fact, they can be quite the compliment. When the object is a soul or R&B record, cheap and dirty are about as good as it gets.

I picked up this record from a friend’s garage sale. She was selling off a bunch of her physical media that she didn’t want any more and put a $2 price tag on this one. The cheap criteria satisfied, I looked over the disc and saw it was a little dirty with a minor scratch or two and decided to take the plunge. Plus it was on the Soul label, an imprint of Motown, so I figured it was a pretty safe bet.

Despite a few skips on the first song of each side, the record is a slab of hot rockin’ R&B numbers. Bandleader, saxophonist and vocalist Jr. Walker leads the way through some of the band’s biggest hits and a collection of instrumentals as well. The first side kicks off with the title track, “(I’m a) Road Runner,” in which he honks away on his sax for a few bars after each verse. I once read a description of the late, great blues harp player Sonny Boy Williamson in which he was noted for knowing when not to play. By putting the notes in exactly the right places and not slathering the entire song, he made his songs that much better. The same could be said for Walker and his sax. He comes wailing into the mix with his gut bucket style here and there, never drowning the proceedings.

The next couple of tracks are a cover of the Holland-Dozier-Holland penned Motown classic “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)” and their own “Pucker Up Buttercup.” The former, a more up-tempo, dance floor rendition of a well-known number was a hit for the boys, and with good reason. Taking a familiar song and rocking it up a notch can be a tricky proposition, but these guys make a sweet song a potential party anthem. The latter might not be as sweet in its sentiment, but it’s just as sticky smooth in its groove. Walker sings his heart out telling the object of his desire to get ready, because another kiss is comin’. Then he drives the point home with another hot sax solo, with the band putting down a steady groove behind him all the while.

The second side is all instrumentals. “Ame- Cherie (Soul Darling)” takes a zydeco number, moves it a little north up the map and puts Walker’s sax where the accordion would normally go. The rhythm section puts a little more of a backbeat in than you’d normally find in a zydeco song, resulting in a pretty seamless blend of north (the band was based in Indiana) and a traditional southern style. The record closes out in brisk fashion with two more rockers “San-Ho-Zay” and “Mutiny.” With the most frenetic pace of any on the record, “Mutiny” sends things out on a sweaty note.

This record has obviously seen some mileage. Who knows how many people owned it before I did. Given the scratches and spots, it’s clear it’s been on and off many a turntable since its 1966 release. And I can see why, you can’t keep tunes this down and dirty on the shelf.

Album: Bootsy’s Rubber Band – Bootsy? Player of the Year

Found at: Antique Mall, $4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9zGTf76x0Q

Bootsy? Player of the Year by MikeKrings

Some people just have star power. Bootsy Collins has never been stingy with the stars that adorn his flamboyant get ups, plays a star-shaped bass and has collaborated with some giant mega-stars of the recording industry. Plus, there are about 185 stars on the cover of “Bootsy? Player of the Year,” and sometimes when I see something shiny, I just have to pick it up.

I found this one while perusing the record stacks in the basement of the Antique Mall. Among the more traditional items one would expect to find in an antiques store, there are some pretty decent records in this place. That’s not to say there are not all kinds of cool stuff at the Antique Mall, I did find the tux I wore to my brothers’ wedding there, but that’s another story. Anyway, I saw Bootsy’s studded, star-shaped shades looking at me from the rack and figured I’d give it a go.

One of the greatest funk bassists ever, Bootsy’s been putting down bass lines with Funkadelic, P-Funk and numerous others for well on 40 years now. This one is from one of his solo projects, Bootsy’s Rubber Band. Backed by a band that’s awful solid for being made of rubber, Bootsy put together this 1978 record that’s much more concerned with finding a groove and sticking with it than delivering any sort of traditional verse-chorus-verse radio friendly tunes.

The first side jumps out with “Bootsy (What’s the Name of This Town)?” Perhaps the only thing the man is more interested in than grooves and stars is his own name. The standard bass line is in place and one of the players from the Horny Horns, the credited horn section, wails away on a flute like he’s got to get every last note out of it he can. The funkiness rolls on with another upbeat, dance floor number “May the Force Be with You” before giving way to a mellow, sexy-time anthem “Very Yes.” While the tempo slows, the temperature rises as Bootsy and the Rubber Band make clear their intentions. Repeatedly they let us know the answer is “very yes.” You can probably guess what the question is.

Even though it only contains three tracks, the first side clocks in at well over 25 minutes. There’s no hurry here, Bootsy and the boys are all about gettin’ the mood and the groove established and playing around with it ‘til everyone is satisfied, exhausted or both.

“Bootzilla,” the opening track of the second side, picks the pace back up and is probably Bootsy’s most prominent vocal performance. Most of the time he’s content to let the others carry the vocal load, this time he carries on with deliveries about where in L.A. you can find him and exuberant “yabba dabba doos.”

The second side drags as the next three tracks are basically the same, extended meditations on a funk jam. “Hollywood Squares” pays tribute to the City of Angels, not the game show and “As In I Love You” sends things out on a sweet, sexy note.

While “Player of the Year” is nowhere near the sheer, funky awesomeness of the classic P-Funk records, it’s clear Bootsy and his old pal George Clinton, who co-produced, are having fun here. The songs have almost as much laughing on them as what one might call lyrics. The flow is free and structure is not a concern.

I’ll play a Parliament record over this one just about any time, but it’s not a total loss. Bootsy always puts on a clinic in silky smooth bass lines. Then again, maybe it is a loss, whoever owned this record before I did cut the star-shaped glasses out of the inside sleeve. That’s alright though, I don’t look good in cardboard and I’d never ascend to Bootsy’s star level anyway.

Mick Jagger - She's the Boss by MikeKrings

Album: Mick Jagger – She’s the Boss

Found at: Audio-Reader For Your Ears Only sale, $1

It’s not every day you realize you have something in common with Keith Richards. When I found out the legendary Rolling Stones guitarist — not to mention indestructible junkie — and I had a shared experience, I immediately made sure that was no longer the case. Not because I dislike the guy, in fact it’s quite the opposite, but because I was curious.

While reading through Richards’ ridiculously fascinating biography “Life,” I came across a passage in which he was describing his strained relationship with lifelong friend and Stones front man Mick Jagger. By the mid ‘80s, Keith had kicked heroin and took an interest in the business side of the Stones, only to find out Mick had pretty much wrestled complete business control of the group away from his band mates. For about 20 years Richards was too stoned to care, but now he noticed. While negotiating a new contract for the band, Jagger also worked out a simultaneous deal to release three solo albums, all without telling his fellow Stones.

This didn’t sit well with Keith. The following passage about Jagger’s first solo album points out Keith’s similarity to my life:

“Mick’s album was called ‘She’s the Boss,’ which said it all. I’ve never listened to the entire thing all the way through. Who has? It’s like ‘Mein Kampf.’ Everybody had a copy, but nobody listened to it.”

While reading I realized, “holy crap, I have that album, and I’ve never even listened to one second of it.” I love the Stones, and picked the record up a few years ago at the annual For Your Ears Only sale. It was only a buck and had a hilarious cover, featuring Mick, make up done and hair feathered, lying in his underwear on what looks like a hotel bed. As he holds a newspaper he’s not reading, a lady also in tighty whities stands behind him, bending over with her rear end against a wall, her face obscured by her arm. The back cover is even funnier. This time Mick’s the one bending over in his tight pair of sweat-pants-gray long johns. His left hand balancing him on a bed that’s actually just a box spring and mattress on the floor, his right hand is changing the channel on a TV showing an episode of Wheel of Fortune.

I’m not Sigmund Freud, but I’m reading a few things into the covers, especially the back. I’ll save you my armchair psychoanalysis, but I will say this: As soon as I read Keith’s dismissal of the record I went straight to my shelf, grabbed “She’s the Boss” and slapped it on the turntable. He’s being a bit hyperbolic when he compares it to “Mein Kampf,” aka the Hitler book, but it is indeed pretty awful. Full disclosure: I’ve never read “Mein Kampf,” and unlike Keith I don’t know anyone who owns a copy, at least that they’ve admitted.

Whether or not Keith was right in his assessment that Mick needed to control everything, one thing is clear: He worked better with his band mates. Not every Stones record is unimpeachable, far from it, but this is an abomination. The opening track “Lonely at the Top” is basically Mick wailing over a mess of cookie cutter guitars and glossy ‘80s production. His voice sounds just fine; the problem is he’s singing terrible songs. “Turn the Girl Loose” is the only song that approaches interesting, at least on side one. It was one of the few that wasn’t so bad I wanted to walk out of the room.

Side two is slightly better for what it’s worth. “Just Another Night” again finds our hero howling away, vocally pleading for a chance to spend one more evening with an unnamed someone. In the lyrics he says he’s a stranger in town, freezing in his hundred-dollar hotel room. He’s hungry and thirsty for this person’s love and he also gets moody and needs attention. Paraphrasing aside, I’m sure lines like these have worked for Mick a couple thousand times. However, if the lady on the cover decided to stay and heard the demos from this album, it’s no wonder she’s hiding her face.

Moodiness and love thirst apparently weren’t too much of a concern, as the very next song is called “Lucky in Love.” This one features that unfortunate hallmark of the ‘80s: the synthesizer. The less said about it, the better. The rest of side two stays pretty much in the same place.

Mick and Keith have apparently settled their differences, or at least found a compromise. They’re still touring and recording together. I’m not sure which one is the boss, but it doesn’t really matter. Together they’re absolute titans of rock 'n' roll and have made some of the best albums ever committed to magnetic tape. So they didn’t get along for a while, that’s not surprising given that they were on the road together almost constantly and together they ingested enough drugs to kill a small army. They survived this misstep of “She’s the Boss” and just might outlive us all.

Replay Records Presents: Cheap Beer by MikeKrings

Album: Replay Records Presents: Cheap Beer

Found at: Cheap Beer record release party, $10

If there’s one thing I’m fond of, it’s beer. And being cheap. And records. And live shows. OK, there are a lot of things I’m fond of, and this happens to fall right in my wheelhouse.

After providing a place for countless bands - both local and non - to play, the Replay lounge is now exporting the sounds that have echoed off its walls for years. "Replay Records Presents: Cheap Beer" is the first offering of the label bearing the bar’s name. The brainchild of Replay Lounge owner Nick Carroll and manager Brad Shanks, it rounds up cuts from 15 of the loudest, rockinest Lawrence and Kansas City bands in one handy vinyl package.

Having seen and enjoyed several of these bands around town, I knew I should pick this one up when I heard about it. If nothing else, for posterity’s sake and to support the scene. There was a two-day, three-venue release party last week. Ten bucks got entrants the record and a pass to all three shows. I was only able to make one of the three, but still got my hands on the plastic for only $10 (which by the way is my cutoff for inclusion in this here column).

The record wastes no time getting to the post-punk aural assault. Up The Academy leads off with “The Merkin Rides Again,” one of the more clever titles. An absolutely blistering live band, the guys acquit themselves well on record as well. Not concerned with polished, sparkly delivery, they move through a rocker that is a bit calm in comparison to the coming tracks. And Ron Miller’s vocals are among the most clear on the disk. Fag Cop kicks down the door that Up the Academy opened with “Nailed it to the Cross.” Blistering is the first adjective that comes to mind. Nature Boys keep the momentum up with “They’re Movin’ In,” another fuzzed, fast one.

Local four piece Mouthbreathers contribute my personal favorite of side one, “Secret Lobotomy.” A chugging beat and insistent rhythm put a boozy shine on the number, and gives way to another fine, dirty tune to follow “Acquire” by Major Games. Did I say I had a favorite already? Muscle Worship and The Dactyls give everyone on the record a run for their money with the thumping “Send Help” and “Slow Crawl,” respectively.

Side one is over in about 20 minutes of economic rock, and the flip side delivers similarly. Der Todesking starts it off with “Homo Erectus” and Jabber Josh follows with another punisher that also wins my trophy for most clever title “Sticking Together is What Good Waffles Do.” Rooftop Vigilantes offer a brief respite from the pounding storm with the only track that approaches poppiness. Under a bed of keys the vigilantes offer up the lovely “You Can Turn Around NOW.” That’s not to say it’s a ballad or weeper, it’s a minor change-up is all. Dark Ages bring back the thunder with “Why?” and Dry Bonnet graces us with “I Smell Bacon.”

The next couple tracks take a slight left turn with Spook Lights’ “Summertime Confidential” and The Hips’ “Mythical Beast.” The former is a Cramps-esque, trashy rocker, while the latter is the most whimsical of the lot. This is My Condition, “Craig Comstock on drums, guitar and microphone all at the same time,” according to the liner notes, sends Cheap Beer out like a last call shot of Jack.

A fine collection of garage, post-punk or whatever genre you’d like to slap on it, Cheap Beer is a worthwhile record for anyone who likes straight forward, 100-miles-an-hour rock and is not too concerned with pretty harmonies or slick production. More than anything, though it’s a document of Lawrence. Kenneth Kupfer’s cover illustrations pay colorful homage to the Replay and Jackpot Saloon, inebriated, zombie-lookin’ folks staggering out and all.

As charming as the cover is, I had a big, dumb grin on my face when I opened it up to find the liner notes printed on the inside of a PBR 12 pack box. The notes themselves are a hoot in many cases, such as Fag Cop’s request for donations to be sent to “HOMOSEXUALPOLICEOFFICER@GMAIL.COM” and an honest portrait of homegrown rock and roll, such as Dry Bonnet’s credit “Recorded in Seth’s basement 2011.” And while just about every one of these songs has been played in Lawrence’s finest dives, a good number of them were recorded right here too.

If you didn’t get the record, don’t fret, you can still see all these bands playing in and around town. If you can’t get either, I’m sure the fine folks at Replay Records (replayrecordsusa@gmail.com) will help you out. If you got both, raise a cold Pabst in celebration.

B.J. Thomas - Everybody's Out of Town by MikeKrings

Album: B.J. Thomas – Everybody’s Out of Town

Found at: Half Price Records and Books, $2.98

Sometimes when you’re just not sure you should pass. That question rolls around in the cranium, “I think it is, but is it really?” Followed by “Should I or shouldn’t I?” In the case of this record the respective answers are “no it wasn’t” and “probably shouldn’t have.”

Upon flipping through the stacks at Half Price Records and Books a year or two ago, I came across this B.J. Thomas record. His name sounded familiar, and I knew didn’t own anything by him. So I picked it up to have a look and saw the album title along with one of the listed tracks “Everybody’s Talking.” My brain pulled up the improperly filed memo listing it as that song from “Midnight Cowboy.” For my money, that’s one of the greatest movies ever, and the song is absolutely perfect for the mood of the film. It’s so forlorn and probably does a better job than just about any song I can think of conveying the singer’s inner turmoil without being a maudlin weeper.

I decided it was worth the $2.98 to take this one home. Then I listened to it, and it hit me. “Oh yeah, Harry Nilsson did that song I was thinking of.” B.J.’s version is a cover, and not a bad one by any means, but it’s just one of those that could never capture the magic of its superior predecessor. Almost 100 other artists have tried covering it as well, and though I’ve not heard the vast majority, I’m going to go ahead and assume that statement is probably true for most of them.

“Everybody’s Talking” is the opening track, and after that initial disappointment, this record never quite recovered in my eyes. It doesn’t contain most of his other hits like “Rain Drops Keep Falling on My Head,” “Hooked on a Felling” or “(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” Those are all fine enough songs, and the last is a superb example of how to properly use parenthetical titles, but I digress. B.J. croons his way through the tracks like a lounge singer who’s not cheesy enough to truly be lounge-y and a balladeer whose not sappy enough to be ballad-y.

The best cut for my money is the kickoff to side two, “What Does it Take.” An uncredited studio musician lays down a hot saxophone riff that sets up Thomas’ question of what it will take to win an unnamed object of desire’s love. Before each break he puts down a variation on “blowing that thing” for the sax man, such as “are you gonna blow it for me?” which gives juvenile listeners such as myself a snicker.

A few forgettable numbers later, the record closes with a cover of the Simon and Garfunkel hit “Bridge Over Troubled Waters.” Unlike the aforementioned cover I can’t really say whether this one is better or worse than the original, because this is one of those songs that I just don’t think I’ll ever like, no matter who sings it. I didn’t even like Johnny Cash’s version on “American IV” for crying out loud. Sure, B.J. has the vocal chops for a song that many would call heartfelt. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just corny.

All this talk about covers and songs in movies is making me want to pop “Midnight Cowboy” in the DVD player and see Dustin Hoffman and John Voigt’s misadventures in the Big Apple unfold once again. I know for a fact I’ll enjoy that, and since it’s already in my collection, it won’t even cost me $2.98. Or maybe I can luck out and use my next three bucks to score a nice Harry Nilsson record.

Dary Hall John Oates Rock n' Soul Part 1 by MikeKrings

Album: Daryl Hall John Oates – Rock n’ Soul Part 1

Found at: Love Garden, $4

I’ve long had what I suppose you would call a love hate relationship with Hall and Oates. Hate might be too strong of a word, but I’ve been up and down in my opinion on the blond and mustachioed blue-eyed soul duo for even longer than I knew who they were, what soul was or even what a proper mustache looks like.

The very first song I ever remember hearing and thinking “that’s a cool song” was “Maneater.” Anyone who’s had a beer and discussed music with me has probably heard this story, so if you’re in that camp, bear with me. As a wee tyke I remember hearing a singer warn me “Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up” because she’s a maneater. I thought it was about a monster. This monster only ate men for some reason, and being at the age in which girls were icky, I knew I’d better watch out. Years later when I realized what a bass line was, and how great the line in this song was, I loved it for reasons more than simple nostalgia. In the intervening years I kept hearing their hits on the radio and not thinking a whole lot about them, other than that they were kind of obnoxious. When I heard “Kiss On My List” repeatedly on the muzak station at the grocery store I worked at in high school I made up a whole song worth of dirty alternate lyrics, the kind I can’t repeat in a family publication. When their other songs came on, I chuckled and passed them off as ‘80s pop, throwaway garbage. Time can do funny things, though. I started to realize that behind that ‘80s gloss, feathery blond hair and tragicomic mustache, there was some pretty good stuff coming from the hearts, souls and noggins of Mssrs. Hall and Oates. Then, one day I saw this record in the bin at Love Garden. The cover featured a simple yet artsy drawing of the boys arm wrestling. (My money’s on Oates.) It also had my very first memorable song, “Maneater,” and several others I was starting to come back around on, so I plopped down my four bucks.

It’s a hits collection, so I figured it was safer than gambling on a studio album proper and getting stuck with a bunch of deep cuts that don’t go anywhere. That line of thinking paid off, as the hits are much better than the two at-the-time unreleased songs contained here, “Adult Education” and “Say It Isn’t So.” Both fall victim to the nearly ubiquitous scourge of ‘80s pop: over production and synthesizers. But enough about the forgettable, let’s get to the memorable.

After the false start of the aforementioned new song, this disc gets going with “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do).” This one’s kind of in the middle for me, with the elements I don’t care for, the cascading keys, but also what these guys did best, harmony. Daryl Hall would do almost anything that you want him to do, but he can’t go for that. He may be a pushover, but the man has limits, and at least he can write a fun song about them. The next song, “Maneater,” flat out kicks ass. I’m sure my nostalgia is part of it, but that bass line, a better understanding of the lyrics about a woman who is great on the surface but eats unsuspecting men alive and a killer sax solo got me playing this one on bar jukeboxes a few years before I bought the record. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to speak ill of this track.

The achingly pretty “One on One” is the last good one of the first side. Perhaps Daryl’s finest vocal performance, it also features easily the best basketball for sexy time metaphor in all of rock lyrics. A live version of “Wait for Me” is the biggest clunker of the hits and puts a real damper on the middle of the record. It goes on way too long and gains nothing from the live setting. My wife and I have an ongoing game in which we name a band and then state whether we think they’re a better live or studio band. I haven’t seen these guys in person, but based on this cut and several YouTube videos I’ve seen, I’d say our boys were much better in the studio than on stage. You might well be thinking I can’t make a fair judgment having not seen them perform, but it’s our game and I’ll play it how I want.

After the turkey that is “Say It Isn’t So” kicking off side two - it’s actually labeled side one while the other is side A, a practice that always pisses me off, but I digress – things get going on the right track again. The smooth ballad “Sara Smile” keeps things in a lovey dovey mood, and I’m sure this song helped many ‘80s guys make time with Saras all over the country. I base this on the fact that I know a Sara named after this song and I know good and well the power of using a song a lady likes to gain her favor. I once listened to Bush’s “Glycerine” about 15 times in one night for that very reason, but again I digress. Two soul pop gems “Rich Girl” and “Kiss On My List,” follow. These two tracks show the guys could throw in some synth without going overboard and could write hooks like nobody’s business. I could live without “You Make My Dreams,” but the record closes on a strong, hand-clapping note with “Private Eyes.”

Whoever owned this record originally took care of it. There’s not a scratch about it anywhere, cover or record. And like a kid who shows the foresight and restraint not to take a collectible toy out of its packaging to preserve the value, the original owner didn’t hang up the free 1984 Hall and Oates calendar that came with it. The amazingly cheesy photos for each month were worth my $4 by themselves. Given the fact it also helped renew my appreciation for these blue eyed soul boys, that was money well parted with.