Dear listeners,
It’s time for one more installment of the recurring Amplifier section My Record Haul, honoring the serendipity and bargains that can be found at brick-and-mortar outlets. Today’s options bizarre finds from one in all my favourite locations in Brooklyn, the Academy Records Annex.
I’ve been purchasing on the Academy Records Annex (the Brooklyn offshoot of Academy Records on twelfth Street in Manhattan) for lengthy sufficient that I’ve visited it in three totally different areas: its big former house on North sixth Street in Williamsburg; the Greenpoint spot it moved to in 2013 proper by the East River*; and, now, its brand-new retailer in the identical neighborhood, at 242 Banker Street.
My newest go to was significantly fruitful — particularly within the greenback bins — and I’ve put collectively a playlist from the data I purchased that day. It’s enjoyable, breezy and, as you’ll see on the very finish, accommodates a couple of surprising musical connections.
Listen along on Spotify as you read.
1. The Moog Machine: “Get Back”
I’ve a morbid fascination with the numerous novelty synthesizer data that had been pumped out within the late Sixties after Wendy Carlos’s “Switched-On Bach” turned an surprising industrial hit. By 1970, there was “Switched-On Country,” “Switched-On Bacharach” (intelligent) and my private favourite in title if not in execution, “Switched-On Santa.” I didn’t personal a replica of “Switched-On Rock,” one of the vital widespread of the bunch, and once I noticed an affordable one within the crates, I couldn’t resist. Please take pleasure in what I hope is without doubt one of the strangest Beatles covers you’ll ever hear, centered round a Moog modular synthesizer simply 5 years after it was invented. For all their overwhelming kitsch, there’s one thing I genuinely love concerning the “Switched-On” data and this period of digital music normally, when there was a palpable sense of marvel (and slight confusion) about what these newfangled machines may really do. (Listen on YouTube)
2. Otis Redding: “Mr. Pitiful” (Live on the Whiskey a Go Go, 1966)
A 12 months earlier than his premature demise, Otis Redding performed a three-night, seven-show residency on the Whiskey a Go Go, the famed Los Angeles rock membership that at that time didn’t guide many soul acts as headliners. This fast, ecstatic efficiency of Redding’s personal “Mr. Pitiful” is only a style of the brilliance that the viewers (which, in line with the liner notes, on this specific night time included Bob Dylan) witnessed at these exhibits. It comes from the 10-track “In Person on the Whiskey a Go Go,” which was launched in 1968. But for those who’re in search of extra Otis (and actually, who isn’t?), a complete boxed set of the entire Whiskey recordings was launched in 2016. (Listen on YouTube)
3. John Cale: “Dead or Alive”
Remember only a few weeks in the past, once I despatched out a newsletter about John Cale and raved about his 1981 post-punk file “Honi Soit”? Just days later, I managed to discover a copy in Academy Records’ New Arrivals part! Record-shopping serendipity is a ravishing factor. (Listen on YouTube)
4. Tim Hardin: “Don’t Make Promises”
Tim Hardin, for those who’re not acquainted, was a perfectly proficient people singer-songwriter who misplaced his battle with dependancy in 1980, at simply 39. While he may have finished much more, the work he left behind is sterling. This jaunty little tune is one in all my favorites on a 1970 Golden Archives Series compilation — a file that I completely forgot I already owned. I’ve no regrets, although, because it was a dollar-bin discover too good too move up, and I’m positive I can find a pal who needs it. (Listen on YouTube)
5. Roger Miller: “Dang Me”
Perhaps the perfect greenback I’ve spent this 12 months was on an unscratched copy of the goofball nation singer Roger Miller’s biggest hits. It is scientifically and psychologically inconceivable to remain in a nasty temper whereas listening to Miller: I’ve examined this speculation many times over. Same goes for this zany video of Dick Clark interviewing him on a 1964 episode of “American Bandstand,” which supplies Miller a chance to do his impression of a phone. (Listen on YouTube)
6. Chuck Berry: “Memphis, Tennessee”
Speaking of worth (and, oddly sufficient, phone operators), I used to be happy to discover a two-LP compilation of Chuck Berry songs within the cut price bin for simply $2. “Memphis, Tennessee” isn’t one in all his hardest rockers, nevertheless it’s a favourite nonetheless. (Listen on YouTube)
7. Kermit and Fozzie: “Movin’ Right Along”
OK, perhaps this was the perfect greenback I’ve spent this 12 months: a pristine copy of the soundtrack from “The Muppet Movie.” The LP cowl alone made me smile and stuffed me with reminiscences of a movie I liked as a child, however this specific bop was the one that actually introduced me again. At first I believed I might put it on the playlist as a lark, particularly since there’s been a relative lightheartedness to at the moment’s choices. But then, whereas scrutinizing the liner notes of “Switched-On Rock,” I seen a wild coincidence: The keyboardist on that Moog file was Kenny Ascher, the jazz pianist and composer who co-wrote the songs on the “Muppet Movie” soundtrack with Paul Williams. So, unexpectedly, at the moment’s playlist ends the place it started. I’ll say it once more: Record-shopping serendipity is a ravishing factor. (Listen on YouTube)
Footloose and fancy free,
Lindsay
*The Academy Records Instagram boasted of the brand new house, “It’s larger! It’s clear! It doesn’t odor bizarre!” As a loyal buyer I might contest the implication that the earlier Oak Street location smelled bizarre, however I can verify that there was some pretty, musky incense burning at 242 Banker Street, so I’ll admit, a minimum of on the day that I visited, that this new house is the best-smelling Academy Records Annex but.
The Amplifier Playlist
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“Moogs and Muppets: Record Shopping in Brooklyn” observe listing
Track 1: The Moog Machine, “Get Back”
Track 2: Otis Redding, “Mr. Pitiful (Live on the Whiskey a Go Go)”
Track 3: John Cale, “Dead or Alive”
Track 4: Tim Hardin, “Don’t Make Promises”
Track 5: Roger Miller, “Dang Me”
Track 6: Chuck Berry, “Memphis, Tennessee”
Track 7: Kermit and Fozzie, “Movin’ Right Along”
Bonus tracks
An individual dressed head-to-toe as Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker. An inflatable boa constrictor worn round somebody’s neck. An inflatable alligator crowd browsing. A Jerry Springer T-shirt worn in seemingly earnest tribute. (R.I.P.) These had been simply a number of the issues I noticed on Saturday night time, once I left the rational world behind and went to a sold-out 100 gecs present.
100 gecs are the sonically anarchic duo of Laura Les and Dylan Brady; for those who’re unfamiliar with them, my colleague Joe Coscarelli’s latest profile is a superb primer. Their newest album, “10,000 gecs,” is a brash, incessantly hilarious assault on good style — and with every passing day I develop into extra sure that it’s one in all my favorites of the 12 months. (See: the towering, Blink-182-esque “Hollywood Baby” or, in line with our Kermit theme, the absurdist and deliriously catchy “Frog on the Floor.”) Its enchantment is maybe inconceivable to clarify (or, some would possibly say, justify) however I preserve coming again to an concept that the critic Julianne Escobedo Shepherd articulated in her astute review of the album for Pitchfork: “It’s a re-evaluation of essentially the most déclassé and dunderheaded rock genres that roiled the 2000s, positing that when it’s not delivered by misogynistic frat guys, it may be terrific music. 100 gecs are chatting with and for the regressive ids of us all; dumb [expletive] ought to be inclusive too.” Quite a lot of the punk-rock humor espoused by the bands I grew up with was, while you held it as much as the sunshine, woefully homophobic, sexist or racist — generally all the above. Like Shepherd, I admire the extra inviting inanity of this new technology of weirdos. As I spotted, chanting “gecs! gecs! gecs!” amongst my fellow misfits on Saturday night time: The youngsters are all proper.
Content Source: www.nytimes.com