What does it mean when a little-known album that hasn’t been reissued in 55 years becomes available again? In the case of Today’s Youth – Tomorrow the World — the 1969 debut from Texas-bred vocalist/guitarist Little Janice that was recently reissued as a 180g 1LP by Inner Groove Records — it means discovering some absolutely fantastic of-era soul, blues, and R&B music that’s been lost in the mists of time. Read Shanon McKellar’s review to see why Little Janice’s one-and-only LP deserves many a spin on your turntable. . .
This record reminds me of the first Talking Heads album, '77 The music kicks in a stilted sort of way; the front man is more weird than powerful, but draws skillfully on the music for his punch, so that his oddball catchphrases (many of them about everyday things like cities, buildings, and doing a good job, lending a certain Richard Scarry earnestness) are driven into your head. He doesn't exactly chant, but it feels like he does. The album is actually more “good” than it is “fun to listen to”-I keep having to make myself put it on. But I'm often glad I did. But I don't listen for all that long.
If you do a "Gene Clark" search on this website you'll find plenty to read and to listen to—including an AnalogPlanet Radio show dedicated to the late musician and former member of The Byrds. Please also read here the many record, book and documentary reviews covering Gene Clark's life and recorded output.
Today, Houston, Texas seems like one of the last places on earth a bluesman would want to call home (send those emails!), but Sam “Lightnin' “ Hopkins called it home, once he left his small town birthplace, nearby Centerville (population under 1000). His first Houston foray, sometime in the late 1930's, where he accompanied his cousin, the blues singer Alger Alexander, was a bust, so after working on a railroad and singing in the streets he returned home to Centerville.
The death of Noel Brazil, Mary Black’s long time collaborator and favorite songwriter, weighs heavily on the song selection here. The album is populated with songs of sadness, resignation and rebirth.
The veteran Irish singer Mary Black is probably better known among American audiophiles than among the general music-loving populace because her recordings are exquisite sounding, audiophiles tend to dig chick singers, and for some reason Black has never received major radio airplay.
The fourth Doors album was not particularly well-received when first issued in 1969. The inclusion of horns and strings was for many a deal breaker, but what really made more pull back was the sense of a less than fully integrated ensemble appearing to come apart at the seams.
Picture a circus brimming with color, excitement, and unrestrained wackiness. Weld that mental image to your favorite funk performance, whether it’s a distant memory or one of the Internet’s many treasures. The result should be invigorating, intoxicating, and most importantly, a spot-on Vulfpeck depiction.
When Steely Dan’s Gaucho came out in November 1980 on MCA, it was at a time when that label was notoriously cutting corners, and quality control suffered. Fast-forward four-plus decades to the here and now, wherein we have a new 180 1LP edition of Gaucho to consider, one that’s been remastered by Bernie Grundman from a 1980 analog tape copy originally EQ’d by Bob Ludwig. Read Mark Smotroff’s review to see if this new vinyl edition of Gaucho is worth putting on your turntable. . .
In November 2021, Radiohead combined their “twin albums” Kid A (October 2000) and Amnesiac (May 2001) with a previously unreleased outtakes collection, Kid Amnesiae, for the highly anticipated three-disc Kid A Mnesia. Several formats are available: US and EU standard weight 3LP pressings on black (standard) and red (limited) vinyl, a similar 3CD set, a Japanese 3CD featuring Amnesiac B-sides excluded from most other Kid A Mnesia releases, a Kid Amnesiette limited edition double cassette (also featuring those Amnesiac B-sides), and the sold-out “Scarry Book.” The latter, a super deluxe 3LP package, lacks the Amnesiac B-sides but features a 36-page large-format art book and the 3 LPs on 180g cream-colored vinyl.
Before I get further into this follow-up review, a short disclaimer: other than the US Apple/Capitol singles of “We Can Work It Out”/“Day Tripper” and “Hey Jude”/“Revolution” (which, as expected, sound lousy), I don’t have any Beatles 7” singles other than this new The Singles Collection box. All my Beatles listening is on LP (the 2014 mono series, the Giles Martin remix LPs, and a few mono and stereo UK and European pressings) and the occasional lossless digital format, therefore from these recordings I’m used to great sound quality. My expectations for The Singles Collection (generously gifted to me by AnalogPlanet editor Michael Fremer) were likely different from most others’: sure, I expected the all-analog lacquer cuts to sound good, but sound quality on 7” singles isn’t the first thing I think about. With the 7” format, it’s primarily about the musical content, collectibility, packaging (when applicable), and finally, sound quality.
In the circles of soul music fans, Isaac Hayes’ seminal June 1969 LP Hot Buttered Soul is well-known as a landmark recording, an album that helped break down conventions of what a hit soul recording could be. This four-song album originally went gold on the Enterprise label, but Craft Recordings just may have taken Hot Buttered Soul to new aural heights with their recently released AAA Small Batch 180g 1LP edition. Read Mark Smotroff’s review to see if the Small Batch version of this seminal soul LP belongs in your collection, STAT. . .
The Beatles made four unforgettable live appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show, February 9, 16, 23rd 1964, and one more, over a year and a half later on September 12, 1965. While the fourth was almost anti-climactic, the first three rightly retain a mythological status, with an amazing 73 million Americans tuning in for The Beatles’s first appearance. In those pre-VCR, pre-400 cable channels days, The Beatles literally appeared out of nowhere, drove the teenagers in the audience crazy, and then disappeared, leaving the kids gasping for air and wondering whether they’d actually seen their idols, or hallucinated them. There would be no taped playback at home, or excerpts on “Entertainment Weekly.” The Beatles didn’t make “the rounds” and visit other shows, because there really weren’t any. Some still shots in Life or in some teenybopper magazine were the best that could be hoped for.
The mid-sixties may not have been Monk’s most creative period but it was arguably his strongest and most focused both in the studio and onstage. If any jazz musician was poised to withstand the rock era it was Monk the performer and Monk the composer.
The late New York Times rock critic Robert Palmer once wrote a Billy Joel review that was so scathing, so mean, so nasty and couched in personal terms, that even I, a fellow Billy Joel detractor (perhaps even a "hater" back then), cringed with embarrassment.