DIG THIS WITH BILL MESNIK AND RICH BUCKLAND- THE SPLENDID BOHEMIANS Rich Buckland and Bill Mesnik

What was that Frankenstein music machine with all the dials, sliders, patch cords etc., that made other-worldly sounds that were supposed to resemble “real” instruments, like strings, horns and flutes, but didn’t? 
It was the mighty Moog, invented by Cornell doctoral student and Theremin salesman, Robert Moog. He hooked up with musician-educator Herb Deutsch, developed the voltage regulation for oscillators and modulators, and the thing caught on.
The first time most of us heard it was on Wendy Carlos’ SWITCHED ON BACH record, which, by aligning itself to one of the world’s most beloved composers, became a sensation in 1968, and was a defining feature of Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange.  Not long after that it became an absolute must have for the Prog matadors like Keith Emerson of ELP.  The Beatles also used it extensively on Abby Road, etc. The list goes on and on. 
Speaking for myself, I’ve always found the Moog and the electronic sounds it made cold and clinical (though fascinating). However, on this record its positively cuddly, and it makes me smile when I recall that it was used by the Muppets for the Swedish Chef routine.  Composed by Gershon Kingsley, this hit version of Popcorn was recorded by Stan Free of Hot Butter, and its lighter than air. 

Like a cat with nine lives, Chip Taylor’s persona has embodied many iterations. Starting with his successful “songwriter for hire” status, penning golden hits like Wild Thing, and Angel of the Morning, up through his phoenix-like resurgence as an Americana elder statesman, the story of this man’s artistic survival, emerging as it did, out from the quicksand of addiction, stands as one of the Splendid Bohemian’s tales of celebration. So much so that it has to be told in two parts. 


https://www.songhall.org/profile/chip_taylor

At the outset, let me apologize for liking this song. It was outre almost immediately after its release. At this point it is so retrograde that I think a person might be able to enjoy it once again for it’s ironic naïveté. But, I have always loved the way her voice swoops up on the name “Bobby”. It still brings chills. I was nine years old, and I wanted to be Bobby for my crush. It’s so interesting with the sober goggles of reflection to realize how programmed I was by popular culture to accept certain societal dogmas in terms of the relations between the sexes.  


Marcie Blane was only 16 when she recorded it, and it was her only chart hit. Born Marcia Blank in Brooklyn, NY in 1944, Marci was discovered by Marv Holzman, an A&R man for Seville records, off of a demo she had recorded as a favor for a songwriter friend. The company changed her name and gave her this song to record, which she did, and, then, she went off to be a counsellor at summer camp. When she returned, she was a star. 


But, the supernova of fame burned out quickly, and by ’65 it was all over - by her choice. She decided to go back to college and didn’t promote her records. The music business was too stressful for this simple girl, who just wanted to marry, teach, and raise a family - which is what she did.


An interesting side-note: On October 9, 2017, it was erroneously reported that a homeless Marcie Blane had died with out enough funds for a burial.  It turned out that it wasn’t her: it was a woman named Mildred Maxwell, who had told everyone for 30 years that she was Marcie Blane. I guess a lot of ladies just wanted to be “Bobby’s Girl”. 

With its distinctive 16-notes-to-the-bar bassline and unashamedly honky sax solo (played on two saxes at once),
 Ian Dury and the Blockheads’ signature hit was certainly one of the more idiosyncratic No 1s of the 1970s. The same could be said of their inimitable frontman, who exemplified the post-punk era’s particular ability to allow unlikely and extraordinary characters to infiltrate the mainstream.
Just three years prior to reaching the top spot in January 1979, the edgy, twitchy singer-narrator-wordsmith dubbed “the Count Dracula of vernacular” had been the thirtysomething, struggling frontman of Kilburn and the High Roads, a seemingly washed-up, chaotic, bedraggled bunch of misfits and miscreants. Left with a severely withered arm and leg following a childhood bout of polio, Dury had already overcome disability, taunts and school days he described as “heavy-duty sadism” and “unmitigated hell” to become an unconventional but riveting live performer.

Jimmy Scott / James Victor Scott (1925-2014)
When Jimmy was first heard on records, the audience assumed it was a woman. He was a one of a kind jazz vocalist, a phenomenon who lived a challenging existence, trying to negotiate his intersexuality with the prejudicial attitudes and toxic stigma of the 1940s and 50s. This caused him to adopt an aggressively “male” stance in order to survive and maintain his equilibrium. The 60s and 70s brought some improvement - career wise, but his greatest recognition found him towards the end of his life.  There is, however, an abundant and glorious discography that he left behind for the ages.


https://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/music/jimmy-scott-hard-luck-singer-with-a-haunting-voice-dies-at-88/2014/06/13/270725b6-48c3-11e3-a196-3544a03c2351_story.html


https://www.discogs.com/artist/129731-Jimmy-Scott

It came roaring out of the car radio speakers like a sonic boom, powered by Dave Clark’s “Air Hammer” pulsating drum beats and Denis Payton’s beefy saxophone.  (Clearly, this was inspirational to Clarence Clemons, when crafting Bruce Springsteen’s, E-Street sound.) Mike Smith, on double-tracked lead vocal and Vox organ may have looked like the leader, with his cute Paul McCartney face, but without a doubt this was the drummer’s party. 


Dave Clark, (b.1939) is an entrepreneurial former stunt-man, who parlayed his Tottenham sound into a multi-million dollar concern; he owned all his masters from day one, re-releasing them, to universal acclaim, on CD in 1993;  the other song writers in the group shared writing credits with Clark unquestioningly - even if he hadn’t written a line. The Dave Clark 5 started as a teenage skiffle group to raise funds for his school football team to go to the Netherlands, and, fittingly, this song became an anthem for several teams throughout the years. Can’t you just picture the screaming hordes bellowing GLAD ALL OVER when their team scores a goal?


Glad All Over nudged the indomitable Beatles’ I Want To Hold Your Hand off the UK’s #1 slot, and the band was inducted into the Rock Hall of Fame in 2008. It’s the pinnacle of Sunny Songdom - nothing but pure, adrenalized fun.