Bizarre Discotheque: Mort Garson • Mother Earth's Plantasia

 

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.

Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.

Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytum comosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”

But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.
The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.

“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.

Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.

Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’s new renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.
-Andy Beta  

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A mediados de la década de 1970, una fuerza de la naturaleza arrasó todo el territorio continental de Estados Unidos, atravesando todos los estratos raciales y sociales, arraigándose en nuestras mentes, nuestros hogares y nuestra cultura. No se trataba de El exorcista, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ni siquiera de los pantalones acampanados, sino de un libro titulado La vida secreta de las plantas. La obra del ocultista y exagente de la OSS Peter Tompkins y del exagente de la CIA y entusiasta de la radiestesia Christopher Bird se disparó en las listas de libros más vendidos y se extendió como la kudzu por todo el país, convirtiéndose en un fenómeno. De la noche a la mañana, el negocio de las plantas de interior floreció y eucariotas fotosintéticos de todo tipo colgaban de las paredes, dominaban las estanterías y tomaban el sol en los alféizares de las ventanas. La ciencia que sustentaba La vida secreta era engañosa: las plantas pueden oír nuestras plegarias, son detectores de mentiras, son telepáticas, capaces de predecir desastres naturales y recibir señales de galaxias lejanas. Pero eso no impidió que millones de personas compraran y cuidaran sus nuevas plantas.

Quizás la afirmación más descabellada del libro era que a las plantas también les gustaba la música. Y tanto si comprabas una planta serpiente, un helecho espárrago, un lirio de la paz o cualquier otra cosa en Mother Earth, en Melrose Avenue, Los Ángeles (o si comprabas un colchón Simmons en Sears), también te llevabas a casa Plantasia, un álbum grabado especialmente para ellas. Subtitulado «música cálida de la tierra para las plantas... y las personas que las aman», estaba lleno de melodías bucólicas, encantadoras, aptas para fumetas y decididamente poco científicas, interpretadas en un novedoso dispositivo llamado Moog. Las plantas se remontan a los albores del tiempo, pero al parecer les encantaba el Moog, sin importarles que el sintetizador llevara solo unos años en el mercado. Por encima de todo, a las plantas les encantaban las canciones del compositor Mort Garson.

Pocos personajes de los inicios de la música electrónica pueden ser a la vez pioneros intrépidos y seguidores de modas cursis, pero Garson abrazó ambos extremos y, como resultado, ha pasado desapercibido. Cuando un escritor preguntó retóricamente: «¿Cómo es posible que la música de Garson fuera tan omnipresente mientras él permanecía tan desconocido?», la respuesta era sencilla. Mucho antes de que Brian Eno lo hiciera, Garson ya componía música discreta, tan poco llamativa como él mismo y su música, como un Chlorophytum comosum. Formado en Julliard y activo como músico de sesión en la posguerra, Garson compuso éxitos de salón, arreglos lujosos para Doris Day y adornó con cuerdas countrypolitan la canción «By the Time I Get to Phoenix» de Glen Campbell. Era capaz de convertir a los Beatles y a Simon & Garfunkel en música fácil de escuchar y también componía sus propias canciones. «Una idea», como diría el propio Garson. «Vivo con ella, la camino, la canto».

Pero, como recuerda su hija Day Darmet: «Cuando mi padre descubrió el sintetizador, se dio cuenta de que ya no quería hacer música pop». Garson conoció a Robert Moog y su nuevo dispositivo en la convención de la Audio Engineering Society en la costa oeste en 1967 e inmediatamente comenzó a experimentar con él. Con el Moog, esas ideas podían transformarse. «Siempre tenía una canción que tarareaba», dice Darmet. «En la mesa no paraba de dar golpecitos». Es decir, Mort sacaba sus melodías de la nada, como lo haría cualquier planta doméstica.
El reino Plantae alcanzó su apogeo en 1976, desde el musgoso superhéroe Swamp Thing de DC Comics hasta la meditación herbal de Stevie Wonder, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. También abundaban las manifestaciones nefastas de la interacción entre humanos y plantas, ya fueran las grotescas vainas de La invasión de los ladrones de cuerpos o la paranoia de los fumetas del Gobierno de EE. UU. que rociaba los campos de marihuana mexicanos con el herbicida paraquat (lo que provocó el auge del cultivo casero de marihuana en la década de 1980). Y luego está el cálido y frondoso abrazo de la propia Plantasia.

«Mi madre tenía muchas plantas», dice Darmet. «No creía en la religión organizada, creía que la Tierra era lo mejor del mundo. Lo que nos creó era increíble». Y también sabía cuándo su marido tenía una buena canción, gritando desde otra habitación cuando le oía tararear una buena idea. Por novedoso que parezca, Plantasia está simplemente lleno de buenas melodías.

Puede que Garson regalara el álbum a los nuevos propietarios de plantas y camas, pero una década más tarde, una nueva generación pudo escuchar su música de otra manera subrepticia. Millones de niños compraron The Legend of Zelda para su Nintendo Entertainment System en 1986 y una melodía distintiva de 8 bits se parece mucho al tema destacado del álbum «Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos». Garson nunca recibió el reconocimiento que se merecía por ello, pero, sin embargo, se coló subliminalmente en la mente de una nueva generación, ayudando a crecer tanto a los niños como a las plantas.

Al escuchar Plantasia en el siglo XXI, parece menos una oda a nuestros amigos fotosintéticos por parte de Garson y más un homenaje a su esposa, la que tenía mano para las plantas y hacía florecer todo a su alrededor. «Mi padre estaría encantado de saber que la gente está realmente interesada en esta música que no tuvo popularidad en su momento», dice Darmet sobre el nuevo renacimiento de Plantasia. «Le fascinaría el hecho de que la gente finalmente esté entendiendo y apreciando esta parte de su carrera musical por la que no recibió admiración en su momento». Garson parece estar de nuevo en todas partes, aunque no se le preste mucha atención, como una planta de interior.
-Andy Beta


 

 

mort-garson.com ...

Bizarre Discotheque: Frankie Stein And His Ghouls • Monster Melodies

 

A fictional studio creation designed to profit off the "Monster Kid" generation of the early 1960's. The Frankie Stein formula was as simple as it was brilliant; cool low budget horror cover art, creepy sounding song names with a suggested dance listing after the title ("Hully Gully, Frug"), and spooky sound effects laid on top of the actual music (which was a potpourri of twist & beat numbers that sometimes had frightful compositional overtones & sometimes didn't).
-scarstuff.blogspot.com

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Una creación ficticia de estudio diseñada para sacar provecho de la generación "Monster Kid" de principios de la década de 1960. La fórmula de Frankie Stein era tan simple como brillante; portadas de terror geniales de bajo presupuesto, nombres de canciones espeluznantes con una lista de baile sugerida después del título ("Hully Gully, Frug") y efectos de sonido espeluznantes colocados encima de la música real (que era un popurrí de números de twist & beat que a veces tenían matices compositivos espantosos y a veces no).
-scarstuff.blogspot.com

Bizarre Discotheque: The Shaggs • Philosophy Of The World

 

The Shaggs’ Philosophy of the World became an enduring classic for its beguiling amateurism. But in its 2016 reissue, it’s easier to hear the darkness and sadness behind the Wiggin sisters’ story.

The Wiggin family of Fremont, New Hampshire were an all-American bunch. Father Austin Wiggin Jr. and Mother Annie were blessed with a lovely brood of six: Two boys, Robert and Austin III, and four daughters, Dorothy (Dot), Betty, Helen, and Rachel. However, in Austin’s eyes, his traditional-seeming clan was anything but—their existence was actually a case of cosmic circumstance. When Austin was a young child, his palmistry-practicing mother predicted that he would marry a strawberry blonde woman, have two sons after she died, and that his daughters would form a successful music group. Having witnessed the first two prophecies come true, Austin decided to give his preordained fate a little push. In the mid-1960s he pulled his three eldest teenage daughters, Dot, Betty, and Helen, out of school, equipped them with guitars and drums, and dubbed them the Shaggs.

Though Austin had no real musical experience, he took quite naturally to the role of a Svengali-type manager. He demanded that the Shaggs practice all day in the family basement: While he was at work, when he came home, after dinner, and occasionally before bed (sometimes, this pre-bedtime practice was replaced by calisthenics). The Shaggs would play a song over and over and over again, until Austin deemed it perfect (or as close to the level of perfection an untrained group could reach). As Dot later explained in Songs in the Key of Z, “He directed. We obeyed. Or did our best.” Wanting to get the girls while their sound was “hot,” in 1969 after about five years of practice, Austin dragged the Shaggs to Fleetwood studio in Revere, Massachusetts, to record their first album, Philosophy of the World.

“Even if you took a few years and learned all the chords you’d still have a limited number of options,” Half Japanese’s David Fair writes in his brief manifesto “How to Play Guitar.” “If you ignore the chords your options are infinite and you can master guitar playing in one day.” Even though they barely learned any chords, it seems safe to say that even after countless hours of practice the Shaggs never mastered their instruments. But the essence of *Philosophy of the World *lies within Fair’s words: that technical limitations can equal musical freedom.

By all accounts, the Wiggin sisters’ voices are painful—not nails-on-a-chalkboard unlistenable, but bizarre, like hearing early Animal Collective for the first time. Dot and Betty’s guitars are cheap and off-key. Helen’s drums have no consistency and jump from rumbling rolls to soft and stuttering taps for no apparent reason. The Shaggs are literally the sound of teenagers without any real training who are suddenly tasked with creating pop tunes. “It just came out of my head,” Dot explains in the reissue’s liner notes. “When I wrote the lyrics, I already had the way the song was supposed to be, the tune of it, so then I matched the melody with words and then chords with melody.” As such, the guitars follow the warbling vocals note-for-note, and since each accented word receives its own unique pitch, the plucking is acrobatic and difficult to follow. Rarely is there a moment on Philosophy of the World that feels cohesive. Yet, even though each sister moves at her own tempo, somehow the structure never falls apart. There’s something intriguing about the noises the Shaggs create and the way they become catchy; chaos is negated in the same way that after enough contemplation the violent splatters of a Jackson Pollock painting become calming.

As the voice of the band, Dot wrote about the things she knew, the life her sisters lived, the world they dreamed of discovering. The Philosophy of the Shaggs, as explained via the chorus of the album’s self-titled opener (“you can never please anybody in this world”) is one of moxie, faith, and pragmatic emotional compromise. While the longings of other girl groups of the late 1960s were also marked by melancholy, an unsettling sense of darkness permeates the Shaggs’ songs, especially when one considers the forceful conditions under which they were created. Perhaps if the same lyrics were Spectorized and accompanied by some claps or twinkly piano they would come off as less nervous. But instead, the combination of the Shaggs’ creaky chords, jumpy vocals, and irregular melodies ring an alarm that something is off. Take “Who Are Parents,” a creepy call-and-response ditty about the righteousness of guardians, the ones who really care, the ones who are always there. “Some kids think their parents are cruel/Just because they want them to obey certain rules,” Dot sings, sternly beseeching other youths to stick to their morals. “Then they start to lean from the ones who really care/Turning, turning from the ones who will always be there.” “Who Are Parents” fails as a family anthem and instead is a haunting example of the pressure and fear Austin instilled in his daughters.

Most of the Shaggs’ lyrics reflect their strict upbringing and ensuing social anxiety. On “I’m So Happy When You’re Near,” Dot and Betty unite to sing about the sadness that arrives when the song’s subject departs. In between verses, the Shaggs’ countless hours of practice truly shine with some intricate guitar work. Shortly after, “Sweet Thing” delivers a tale of woe and is perhaps the strongest display of anger the Wiggin sisters  muster. “You used to make me happy/Now you make me sad/You’ve told me many lies/I’ve never told you one,” Dot points out in the same, even voice used throughout the record, even though she’s sharing a deep moment of betrayal. The pain truly shines when Betty squawks “Hurt you, hurt you,” like a stuck toy. Out-of-tune, sharp moments like these could be overlooked as amateur, but they are really the rare occasions when fervor seeps out.

The Shaggs’ introspection is best explored on “Things I Wonder” and “Why Do I Feel?.” The former slogs along with the simple chorus “There are many things I wonder/There are many things I don’t/It seems as though the things I wonder the most/Are the things I never find out.” Even from reading those words in your head, they are so clearly jumbled, so unbalanced. Beneath Dot and Betty’s stiff, severely accented vocals, Helen’s drums rumble and clang. Yet these elements are so unchanging that “Things I Wonder” becomes hypnotic. “Why Do I Feel?” is less repetitive and rather than just discussing the unknown, the Shaggs seem to be truly wondering. “Why do I feel the way I feel?,” they ask, drawing out each word with longing. “My Pal Foot Foot” has become a Shaggs anthem of sorts: a drawing of the legendary cat adorned the cover of a 1988 compilation album as well as many arms and legs of ardent fans. Their clumsy search for a roaming cat sounds like it is being delivered at the edge of a cliff. “Foot Foot…,” one of the sisters nervously murmurs. It’s sing-songingly charming in the way that nursery rhymes are until you realize the dark underlying message. All of this considered, there are perhaps only two purely innocent songs on Philosophy of the World, the radio-worshipping  “My Companion” and “It’s Halloween.” “It’s Halloween” and its talk of ghouls seemingly could have been sung by the Peanuts gang three years earlier in “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.”

When Austin died unexpectedly of a heart attack in 1975, the Shaggs immediately disbanded and resumed normal lives, working blue-collar jobs and starting families. “We figured when we ended it and we went on with our own lives, that that was the end of it,” recalls Dot. “That was one life, and now another.” But destiny had other plans for the Wiggin girls, who had yet to become the popular group of their grandmother’s prophecy. Even though 900 of the 1000 copies of Philosophy of the World produced disappeared immediately, the record managed to fall into the hands of influential obscure music fans who were drawn to discordant sounds produced by three sisters from New Hampshire. By 1980, new fans were introduced to Philosophy of the World thanks to a reissue campaign led by the band NRBQ.

The Shaggs were quickly embraced by the exact opposite audience Austin desired: the longhaired avant-garde intellectuals. Listeners were amazed by this music that seemed ahead of its time, and totally different than what one might expect if they handed three teenage girls instruments with little instruction. The Shaggs pre-dated the trend of making music that sounds untrained; they probably would have hated Beat Happening. “I don’t know anything about music,” Captain Beefheart told Lester Bangs in 1980. But the big difference between Beefheart and the Shaggs comes down to intention. Whereas Don Van Vliet was improvising and experimenting, the Shaggs were simply surviving.

On top of the musical strangeness, there are the universal sentiments that the Wiggin girls capture, their juvenile dreams and desires illustrated as intimate. Big ideas become small and accessible in their voices: Don’t you remember when you felt scared, sad, or alone? So do the Shaggs, and it’s comforting to relate. Kurt Cobain called Philosophy of the World one of the top five records of all time—what did he hear in the Shaggs? Perhaps he was entranced by what he saw as raw innocence.

But in truth, contemporary listeners and critics will never identify with the Shaggs because their words are not for us.

Since Philosophy of the World became a cult classic in the ’70s and ’80s, critics have been quick to label the Shaggs as outsider musicians. But if the outsider music genre is meant to be the logical counterpart to outsider art, the Shaggs do not quite qualify. Yes, their bumpy music pays no attention to conventional practices, yes, by all means they are amateur. But they had certainly heard mainstream music like Herman’s Hermits and sources differ on whether or not they received music lessons. Outsider art, and therefore music, is meant to come from an undisturbed place. “Here we are witness to the artistic operation in its pristine form, something unadulterated, something reinvented from scratch at all stages by its maker, who draws solely upon his private impulses,” said Art Brut founder Jean Dubuffet.
Most Read Reviews

The Shaggs were forced to make music by a father who physically removed them from school. While the Shaggs may have been expressing genuine emotions, it was not of their free will. “It’s just something we had to do,” one sister recalls in an interview with the BBC. One might consider the anecdote that the Shaggs would occasionally sneak away from practice to a nearby lake and then rush home as if they had been rehearsing. Calling them outsiders negates the trauma that is deeply rooted within their music. Austin emphasized over and over how “pure” the Shaggs were, how they were “unaffected by outside influences.” But their purity is that of claustrophobia. Outsider artists are expected to possess a degree of unconsciousness that acts as a path into the profound psyche. But the Wiggin sisters were self-conscious teenagers. Their peers tossed soda cans at them. Even though Dot’s lyrics clearly come from a significant place within (her adolescent anxieties) the difference is that of writing a daily journal to share with a classroom of peers versus writing a diary entry before bed.

If new or old fans wish to experience a pure version of the Shaggs, check out 1982’s Shaggs’ Own Thing, a collection of unreleased recordings and covers. Shaggs’ Own Thing finds the Wiggin girls to be playful and free of anxiety, perhaps because there’s no clear-cut purpose behind the recordings. The covers (which include versions of the Carpenters) are faithful, graceful even. It’s a drastic shift from Philosophy, which comes off as even more abrasive and awkward in comparison. But Philosophy of the World is the realest version of the Shaggs, flaws and force in full-view. A teenage symphony this is not.
https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/22404-shaggs-philosophy-of-the-world/

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Philosophy of the World es el único álbum de estudio de la banda de rock The Shaggs.

La banda The Shaggs estaba compuesta por las hermanas Helen, Betty, y Dorothy (o "Dot") Wiggin, de Estados Unidos. Quien hizo de manager para el grupo fue el padre de las hermanas, Austin Wiggin, Jr., también algunas veces eran acompañadas por otra de las hermanas, Rachel. Se presentaron casi exclusivamente en el ayuntamiento de Fremont y en una casa de asilo local, empezando en 1968 y dejando de presentarse en vivo en 1973.

Aunque a la mayoría de la gente en Fremont no le gustaba el sonido de la banda, su padre todavía creía que serían estrellas, y en 1969, usó gran parte de sus ahorros para grabar un álbum. Austin llevó a sus hijas a un estudio en Massachusetts, decidido a grabarlas "mientras aún estaban frescas". Después de llegar a un acuerdo con una discográfica local (Third World Recordings), The Shaggs grabaron su disco en un día, con el que publicaron doce canciones escritas por Dot.

Luego de ser lanzada la primera edición original, 900 de las 1000 copias que se publicaron desaparecieron, y poco después, el productor y presidente de la discográfica también desapareció, a la vez que el sello cerró rápidamente.

A pesar de la mala o incluso nula recepción del primer álbum, además del hecho de que solo quedaban 100 copias en circulación, los coleccionistas de música rápidamente se apoderaron de las copias restantes y el boca a boca comenzó, y aquellos a quienes les gustó elogiaron de gran manera la música, pero muchos otros se quejaron de la forma descuidada, casi sin sentido, en que se hicieron los arreglos, así como la forma en que las hermanas son incapaces de seguir un tempo definído. Algunos afirmaron que esto se hizo intencionalmente a instancias de su padre (un rumor que persistió durante muchos años, aunque él lo negó, y la idea sería discutida aún más cuando las canciones que grabaron en una sesión de 1975 fueron lanzadas en 1982, ya que en esta grabación mostraban un sonido mucho más pulcro y cuidado). Las propias hermanas Wiggin han expresado su consternación con el producto terminado, señalando que varias de las peculiaridades de la musicalidad eran, de hecho, errores de ritmo que se dejaron; este fue un factor en la ruptura de la banda y su renuencia a reunirse a raíz de su nuevo éxito.

A mediados de la década de 1970, WBCN, una estación de radio local en Boston, Massachusetts, comenzó a reproducir algunos temas del disco, lo que ayudó a llevar al grupo y al disco a la fama tardía. Se hizo más conocido en 1978 cuando la famosa banda de música independiente NRBQ escuchó, buscó una copia y luego relanzó el álbum en 1980, a través de los sellos Red Rooster Records / Rounder Records. Más tarde, Dr. Demento, un locutor de radio estadounidense y coleccionista de discos que se especializa en canciones novedosas, comedia y grabaciones extrañas o inusuales, comenzó a reproducir el álbum casi exclusivamente en su programa de radio en todo el país, especialmente alrededor de la fecha de Halloween, cuando tocaba la pista del álbum que hace referencia a esta festividad, y durante muchos siguió reproduciendo canciones del disco en su lista de "Funny Five" de la semana. Las hermanas Wiggin han expresado constantemente confusión y sorpresa con respecto a por qué su música se había vuelto tan popular, y señalaron que el trabajo fue, en gran parte, un accidente.

Posteriormente, saldría una versión en CD del álbum, que incluiría también el segundo disco Shaggs' Own Thing, esta versión con ambos álbumes fue publicada en 1988 por Rounder, también otra versión en CD -únicamente del primer álbum- saldría en 1999, por parte del sello RCA Victor

Light In The Attic Records relanzó el disco en vinilo, y en septiembre de 2016 publicó una edición especial en un vinilo tricolor de 180g, del cual únicamente salieron 500 copias, e incluía un folleto con fotos inéditas y un extenso ensayo sobre los antecedentes, la historia de la banda y la grabación del álbum.

La canción que le da título al disco aparece como canción inicial en la primera versión de Songs in the Key of Z: The Curious Universe of Outsider Music.

"Philosophy of the World es el disco más enfermizo, asombrosamente espantoso y maravilloso que he escuchado en años: el purgante mental perfecto para cualquier tipo de estancamiento", escribió Debra Rae Cohen para Rolling Stone en una revisión de la reedición de 1980. "Como un Trapp Family Singers lobotomizado, The Shaggs gorjean serias letras de tarjetas de felicitación (...) en un cuasi-unísono feliz y desventurado a lo largo de líneas ostensibles de melodía mientras rasguean sus pequeñas guitarras como alguien que se preocupa por la cremallera. La baterista golpea animosamente a la llamada de una musa diferente, como si tuviera que adivinar qué canción estaban tocando, y se perdiera cada vez. " "Sin exageración", Escribió Chris Connelly en un artículo posterior de Rolling Stone," puede ser " el peor álbum jamás grabado". En un artículo para The New Yorker, el álbum fue descrito como "inquietantemente malo".

El cantante de Nirvana, Kurt Cobain escuchó Philosophy of the World y lo puso en su lista de sus 50 álbumes favoritos de todos los tiempos. La grabación también ha sido citada como una gran influencia para Frank Zappa, Kimya Dawson de The Moldy Peaches, y Deerhoof.

El álbum aparece en el puesto 100 de la lista de Blender (magazine)'s de los 100 mejores discos de indie rock. en 2010, fue incluido en NME "Los 100 mejores álbumes que nunca escuchaste". En 2016, Rolling Stone puso el disco en la posición 17 en su lista de "40 mejores One-Album Wonders".
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philosophy_of_the_World


Nota sugerida:
https://elpais.com/elpais/2020/07/16/icon/1594909127_104445.html

Bizarre Discotheque: Ted Cassidy • The Lurch ⁄ Wesley

 

Bizarre Discotheque: Frankie Stein And His Ghouls • Monster Sounds And Dance Music

 

A fictional studio creation designed to profit off the "Monster Kid" generation of the early 1960's. The Frankie Stein formula was as simple as it was brilliant; cool low budget horror cover art, creepy sounding song names with a suggested dance listing after the title ("Hully Gully, Frug"), and spooky sound effects laid on top of the actual music (which was a potpourri of twist & beat numbers that sometimes had frightful compositional overtones & sometimes didn't).
-scarstuff.blogspot.com

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Una creación ficticia de estudio diseñada para sacar provecho de la generación "Monster Kid" de principios de la década de 1960. La fórmula de Frankie Stein era tan simple como brillante; portadas de terror geniales de bajo presupuesto, nombres de canciones espeluznantes con una lista de baile sugerida después del título ("Hully Gully, Frug") y efectos de sonido espeluznantes colocados encima de la música real (que era un popurrí de números de twist & beat que a veces tenían matices compositivos espantosos y a veces no).
-scarstuff.blogspot.com

Bizarre Discotheque: Klaus Ogerman • Sounds For Sick ʔ People

 

Biography by Dave Lynch
Born in Ratibor, Germany on April 29, 1930, this prolific arranger and orchestrator moved from Europe to the United States in 1959 and began an association with the Verve label, where his arrangements were featured on albums by Frank Sinatra and Antonio Carlos Jobim (1967's Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim -- the first of two collaborative albums by the pair), Astrud Gilberto, Bill Evans, Wes Montgomery, Stan Getz, Cal Tjader, and other leading artists. Having worked with producer Creed Taylor on numerous Verve albums during the '60s, Ogerman continued his partnership with Taylor following the establishment of the A&M-affiliated CTI label, arranging albums including Jobim's classic Wave, released in 1967 as only the second album under the CTI imprint.
Over the following decades and into the 21st century, Ogerman served as arranger, orchestrator, and/or conductor on albums by the likes of George Benson, Michael Brecker, Danilo Perez, and Diana Krall, winning a Grammy for arranging the title track of Krall's 2009 bossa-themed Quiet Nights. (A repeated Grammy nominee, Ogerman had previously won the award for arranging guitarist Benson's "Soulful Strut" from 1979's Livin' Inside Your Love.) Ogerman was also noted for his arrangements backing pop artists, his original scores for primarily German films of the '50s and '60s, and his work as a classical composer -- or, in the case of 1982's Cityscape co-billed to saxophonist Brecker, as composer, arranger, and conductor of a successful classical-jazz hybrid concerto. Claus Ogerman died on March 8, 2016 in Germany at the age of 85.
https://www.allmusic.com/artist/claus-ogerman-mn0000123345#biography

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Biography by Dave Lynch
Born in Ratibor, Germany on April 29, 1930, this prolific arranger and orchestrator moved from Europe to the United States in 1959 and began an association with the Verve label, where his arrangements were featured on albums by Frank Sinatra and Antonio Carlos Jobim (1967's Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim -- the first of two collaborative albums by the pair), Astrud Gilberto, Bill Evans, Wes Montgomery, Stan Getz, Cal Tjader, and other leading artists. Having worked with producer Creed Taylor on numerous Verve albums during the '60s, Ogerman continued his partnership with Taylor following the establishment of the A&M-affiliated CTI label, arranging albums including Jobim's classic Wave, released in 1967 as only the second album under the CTI imprint.
Over the following decades and into the 21st century, Ogerman served as arranger, orchestrator, and/or conductor on albums by the likes of George Benson, Michael Brecker, Danilo Perez, and Diana Krall, winning a Grammy for arranging the title track of Krall's 2009 bossa-themed Quiet Nights. (A repeated Grammy nominee, Ogerman had previously won the award for arranging guitarist Benson's "Soulful Strut" from 1979's Livin' Inside Your Love.) Ogerman was also noted for his arrangements backing pop artists, his original scores for primarily German films of the '50s and '60s, and his work as a classical composer -- or, in the case of 1982's Cityscape co-billed to saxophonist Brecker, as composer, arranger, and conductor of a successful classical-jazz hybrid concerto. Claus Ogerman died on March 8, 2016 in Germany at the age of 85.
https://www.allmusic.com/artist/claus-ogerman-mn0000123345#biography

 

Bizarre Discotheque: John Towner (John Williams) • The John Towner Touch

 

John Williams (John Towner) was born in Floral Park, New York, on February 8, 1932, to John and Esther Towner Williams. He was the oldest of four children. As a kid, Johnny learned to play the piano, cello, trumpet, trombone - and even formed a band with his friends. When John Williams grew up, he joined the Air Force where he conducted and arranged music for the bands. When he was discharged, he enrolled in The Julliard School to study piano. After he finished school, he decided to play piano in movie studio orchestras. His first recordings included soundtracks for the movie, South Pacific, and the TV series, Gilligan’s Island.

However, the idea of playing someone else’s music for TV shows and movies didn’t interest him for long. He wanted to compose his own music, and it wasn’t too long before he got his first big break. He was asked to compose the theme for the TV series, Lost in Space. His next big break came when film director, Steven Spielberg, invited him to compose music for his movies. Their first highly successful film together was Jaws. For this movie, John Williams wrote the most famous single notes next to the introduction to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. When John Williams played the music for Speilberg for the first time, he thought he was kidding. However, John Williams believed his score would be perfect. He was right, and his score earned him his second Academy Award. Working with Steven Spielberg, John Williams went on to compose some of the greatest music ever written for film, including : Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jurassic Park, E.T., Superman, Harry Potter, and Star Wars, which was selected by the American Film Institute as the greatest film score of all time.
Source : https://makingmusicfun.net/htm/f_mmf_music_library/hey-kids-meet-john-williams.php

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John Williams (John Towner ) nació en Floral Park, Nueva York, el 8 de febrero de 1932, hijo de John y Esther Towner Williams. Era el mayor de cuatro hijos. De niño, Johnny aprendió a tocar el piano, el chelo, la trompeta y el trombón, e incluso formó una banda con sus amigos. Cuando John Williams creció, se alistó en las Fuerzas Aéreas, donde dirigió y arregló la música de las bandas. Cuando le dieron el alta, se matriculó en la Julliard School para estudiar piano. Al terminar la escuela, decidió tocar el piano en orquestas de estudios cinematográficos. Sus primeras grabaciones incluyeron las bandas sonoras de la película South Pacific y la serie de televisión Gilligan's Island.

Sin embargo, la idea de tocar la música de otros para programas de televisión y películas no le interesó por mucho tiempo. Quería componer su propia música, y no tardó en tener su primera gran oportunidad. Le pidieron que compusiera el tema de la serie de televisión Perdidos en el espacio. Su siguiente gran oportunidad llegó cuando el director de cine Steven Spielberg le invitó a componer música para sus películas. Su primera película de gran éxito fue Tiburón. Para esta película, John Williams escribió las notas individuales más famosas junto a la introducción de la Quinta Sinfonía de Beethoven. Cuando John Williams tocó la música para Speilberg por primera vez, éste pensó que estaba bromeando. Sin embargo, John Williams creía que su partitura sería perfecta. Tenía razón, y su partitura le valió su segundo premio de la Academia. Trabajando con Steven Spielberg, John Williams pasó a componer algunas de las mejores músicas jamás escritas para el cine, incluyendo : En busca del arca perdida, Parque Jurásico, E.T., Superman, Harry Potter y La guerra de las galaxias, que fue elegida por el American Film Institute como la mejor partitura de todos los tiempos.
Fuente : https://makingmusicfun.net/htm/f_mmf_music_library/hey-kids-meet-john-williams.php


johnwilliams.org ...

Bizarre Discotheque: Brainticket • Cottonwoodhill

 

The LP's original inner sleeve warns: "After Listening to this Record, your friends may not know you anymore" and "Only listen to this once a day. Your brain might be destroyed!"
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cottonwoodhill

Note:
The band was actually called Cottonwoodhill, and the album Brain Ticket, but somehow the project name got switched!

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La funda interior original del LP advierte: "Después de escuchar este disco, es posible que tus amigos ya no te conozcan" y "Escúchalo sólo una vez al día. Tu cerebro podría quedar destruido".
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cottonwoodhill

Nota:
El grupo se llamaba en realidad Cottonwoodhill, y el álbum Brain Ticket, pero por alguna razón se cambió el nombre del proyecto.

Bizarre Discotheque: The Chicks • The Sound Of The Chicks

 

Sisters Suzanne and Judy Donaldson. They had a steam of pop hits in New Zealand between 1965 and 1970. Suzanne married Bruce Lynch and records as Suzanne Lynch. They are the parents of Andy Lynch from the NZ band Zed.
https://www.discogs.com/artist/831346-The-Chicks 

 

Instantly recognisable with their matching outfits, trendy haircuts and up-tempo, harmony-rich pop singles, sisters Judy and Sue Donaldson rose to become some of New Zealand’s biggest stars as The Chicks.

For a whirlwind five-year period from 1965 they were seldom off our TV screens or radio airwaves. They played countless gigs and toured relentlessly with other New Zealand stars and international artists, including Sandie Shaw, PJ Proby and, incredibly, The Pretty Things.

On 22 October 2020 it was announced that The Chicks were inducted into the The New Zealand Music Hall of Fame.
https://www.audioculture.co.nz/profile/the-chicks

Las hermanas Suzanne y Judy Donaldson. Tuvieron una serie de éxitos pop en Nueva Zelanda entre 1965 y 1970. Suzanne se casó con Bruce Lynch y graba como Suzanne Lynch. Son los padres de Andy Lynch, del grupo neozelandés Zed.
https://www.discogs.com/artist/831346-The-Chicks

Las hermanas Judy y Sue Donaldson, reconocibles al instante por sus trajes a juego, sus cortes de pelo a la moda y sus singles pop de ritmo rápido y rico en armonía, se convirtieron en algunas de las mayores estrellas de Nueva Zelanda con el nombre de The Chicks.

Durante cinco años, a partir de 1965, rara vez dejaron de aparecer en las pantallas de televisión o en las ondas de radio. Hicieron innumerables conciertos y giras sin descanso con otras estrellas neozelandesas y artistas internacionales, como Sandie Shaw, PJ Proby e, increíblemente, The Pretty Things.

El 22 de octubre de 2020 se anunció que The Chicks entraban en el Salón de la Fama de la Música de Nueva Zelanda.
https://www.audioculture.co.nz/profile/the-chicks

the-chicks ...

 

Note from egroj: Surely more than half a century ago, this musical wave was not bizarre.

Bizarre Discotheque: The Preachers • Stay Out Of My World

 

Things happened fast in the sixties, especially in the up-tempo world of rock ‘n’ roll. The Preachers were together for less than eighteen months, but they packed a hell of a lot of action into that brief lifespan, racking up three terrific 45 releases in the space of five months, making TV appearances, and playing countless live gigs in the Los Angeles area and as far afield as Tucson and Las Vegas.

In the short time they were together, the Preachers did better than all right. Decades later, “Who Do You Love” and “Stay Out of My World” were hailed as outstanding examples of pure, visceral sixties garage punk.
https://sundazed.com/preachers-the-stay-out-of-my-world-cd.aspx


"In 1965, the Preachers were as wild as it comes, both in image and sound. Despite their long haired/holier than thou hybrid look, this L.A. fivesome didn't preach so much as howl a hi-octane punk-blues for the Sunset Strip set. Their greatest moment remains 'Who Do You Love,' an insanely intense reading by the group's original teenage wildman, Richard Fortunato. Moonglow Records canned him for being too uncommercial, which just means he's one of our favorites. The Preachers tried riding the folk-rock wave but thankfully, they always come out sounding like the Preachers. Their previously-unheard 'Hey Joe' is a thrilling folk-rock failure full of improvised words and the most nasally vocalizing this side of the Seeds. Moonglow Records hated this one too, which just means you gotta hear it. It's our turn to preach about these garage heroes, so we've also included their classic 'Stay Out of My World.'"
https://www.forcedexposure.com/Catalog/preachers-the-stay-out-of-my-world-7-/SEP.191EP.html

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Las cosas sucedieron rápidamente en los años sesenta, especialmente en el mundo del rock 'n' roll. Los Preachers estuvieron juntos durante menos de dieciocho meses, pero tuvieron un montón de acción en ese breve período de tiempo, acumulando tres magníficos lanzamientos de 45 en el espacio de cinco meses, haciendo apariciones en la televisión, y tocando innumerables conciertos en vivo en el área de Los Ángeles y en lugares tan lejanos como Tucson y Las Vegas.

En el poco tiempo que estuvieron juntos, los Preachers lo hicieron mejor que bien. Décadas más tarde, "Who Do You Love" y "Stay Out of My World" fueron aclamados como ejemplos sobresalientes de puro y visceral garage punk de los sesenta.
https://sundazed.com/preachers-the-stay-out-of-my-world-cd.aspx


"En 1965, los Preachers eran tan salvajes como puede ser, tanto en imagen como en sonido. A pesar de su aspecto híbrido de pelo largo y soso, este quinteto de Los Ángeles no predicaba sino que aullaba un punk-blues de alto octanaje para el conjunto de Sunset Strip. Su mejor momento sigue siendo "Who Do You Love", una lectura increíblemente intensa del adolescente salvaje original del grupo, Richard Fortunato. Moonglow Records lo despidió por ser demasiado poco comercial, lo que significa que es uno de nuestros favoritos. The Preachers intentaron subirse a la ola del folk-rock pero, afortunadamente, siempre salen sonando como los Preachers. Su inédito 'Hey Joe' es un emocionante fracaso folk-rock lleno de palabras improvisadas y la vocalización más nasal a este lado de los Seeds. Moonglow Records también lo odiaba, lo que significa que tienes que escucharlo. Es nuestro turno de predicar sobre estos héroes del garaje, así que también hemos incluido su clásico 'Stay Out of My World'".
https://www.forcedexposure.com/Catalog/preachers-the-stay-out-of-my-world-7-/SEP.191EP.html

Bizarre Discotheque: The Little Bits • Girl Give Me Love

 

Album Notes:
Wailing and thrashing around the melody like candy-fueled maniacs, The Little Bits pack a punch so savage it makes appropriately aged teen rockers hopped up on testosterone and intoxicants sound like they're phoning it in. This is the real deal — Cajun country’s untamed youth. Featuring their killer single and newly discovered tracks!

“Girl Give Me Love” has long captivated garage rock crate diggers. It was the lone single released by The Little Bits, a group of pre-teen punks from Jennings, Louisiana. Fewer than 500 copies were pressed when the 45 came out in 1967. But it’s not the rarity of the record that has earned it so many admirers over the years; it's the rarified sound.

When The Little Bits weren’t out performing live at local dances, drive-ins, pig roasts, hootenannies, and frat parties, they were recording at their shag-carpeted home studio, built so the band could record whenever inspiration struck. These recordings miraculously survived over fifty years of Louisiana heat, humidity, and floods, finally seeing the light of day now!
https://sundazed.com/little-bits-the-girl-give-me-love-cd-with-bonus-track.aspx

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Notas del álbum:
Gritando y golpeando en torno a la melodía como maníacos alimentados por caramelos, The Little Bits tienen una fuerza tan salvaje que hace que los adolescentes rockeros adecuadamente envejecidos, drogados con testosterona e intoxicados, suenen como si estuvieran fingiendo. Este es el verdadero negocio: la juventud indómita del Cajun Country. Con su single asesino y sus temas recién descubiertos.

"Girl Give Me Love" ha cautivado durante mucho tiempo a los aficionados al rock de garaje. Fue el único single publicado por The Little Bits, un grupo de punks preadolescentes de Jennings, Luisiana. Se imprimieron menos de 500 copias cuando el 45 salió a la venta en 1967. Pero no es la rareza del disco lo que le ha granjeado tantos admiradores a lo largo de los años; es su sonido enrarecido.

Cuando The Little Bits no estaban actuando en directo en bailes locales, autocines, asados de cerdos, fiestas de borrachos y fiestas de fraternidad, estaban grabando en su estudio casero con moqueta, construido para que la banda pudiera grabar siempre que le llegara la inspiración. Estas grabaciones han sobrevivido milagrosamente a más de cincuenta años de calor, humedad e inundaciones en Luisiana, y ahora por fin ven la luz.
https://sundazed.com/little-bits-the-girl-give-me-love-cd-with-bonus-track.aspx

Bizarre Discotheque - Tom Scott • The Honeysuckle Breeze

 

Review
by Scott Yanow
Tom Scott's debut recording as a leader (he was 19 at the time) set the "standard" for much of his solo career. The ten selections on this obscure and long-out-of-print Impulse LP match Scott with a rather mundane nine-piece vocal group called the California Dreamers. The dated effects (Bill Plummer's sitar, the electronic devices on Scott's tenor, alto and soprano, and the primitive electric keyboards), weak material (mostly current pop tunes including the Beatles' "She's Leaving Home," Donovan's "Mellow Yellow" and Joan Baez's "North"), and the brevity of the performances (clocking in between 2:14 and 4:30) make this a rather forgettable commercial record. Only of historical interest.
https://www.allmusic.com/album/the-honeysuckle-breeze-mw0000897408

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Reseña
por Scott Yanow
La primera grabación de Tom Scott como líder (tenía 19 años en ese momento) estableció el "estándar" para gran parte de su carrera en solitario. Las diez selecciones de este oscuro y largamente agotado LP de Impulse emparejan a Scott con un grupo vocal de nueve piezas bastante mundano llamado California Dreamers. Los efectos anticuados (el sitar de Bill Plummer, los dispositivos electrónicos en el tenor, el alto y el soprano de Scott, y los primitivos teclados eléctricos), el material débil (en su mayoría temas pop actuales, como "She's Leaving Home" de los Beatles, "Mellow Yellow" de Donovan y "North" de Joan Baez) y la brevedad de las interpretaciones (que oscilan entre 2:14 y 4:30) hacen de éste un disco comercial bastante olvidable. Sólo tiene interés histórico.
https://www.allmusic.com/album/the-honeysuckle-breeze-mw0000897408

Bizarre Discotheque - VA • Metralleta Stein

 

Metralleta Stein es una película española de 1974 dirigida por José Antonio de la Loma con John Saxon, Francisco Rabal, Blanca Estrada, Frank Braña y David Carpenter en los papeles principales.

Esta película asentó las bases del thriller como género cinematográfico de producción española; lanzó a la fama tanto a John Saxon como a Francisco Rabal. Fue rodada en España, principalmente en Barcelona.
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metralleta_%27Stein%27

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Metralleta Stein is a 1974 Spanish film directed by José Antonio de la Loma starring John Saxon, Francisco Rabal, Blanca Estrada, Frank Braña and David Carpenter in the lead roles.

This film laid the foundations of the thriller as a Spanish-produced film genre; it launched both John Saxon and Francisco Rabal to fame. It was shot in Spain, mainly in Barcelona.
https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metralleta_%27Stein%27