Ah yes. Indeedily-dookily. Today was a great day, continues to be one, and will continue as such into the night. Just a great Sunday. Well, there was no “happy ending,” but I’m far from complaining.

When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t hungover. Immediately I knew things were looking up. My ears weren’t ringing from the band I saw last night either, letting me know that I had actually remained a respectable distance from the speakers and amps. Nice.

When I walked outside, the first thing I noticed was what a gorgeous day it was. I took off my coat and breathed in the fresh air. The second thing I noticed was the bluebird that landed on my shoulder and began humming the melody to Inna Gadda Davida. The third thing I noticed was that I was really high.

I took a nice, leisurely drive to the 97.5 “The Hawk” Rock Expo at the Armory. Records Records Records!!! Nothing but tables upon tables and bins and milk crates and boxes of records records records. And not CDs, my good man. If I want CDs I can go to Tower (or WalMart if I don’t want to expose myself to “impure” or “terrorist” ideas). Give me warm and loving vinyl.

The sweet smell of vinyl as rows stretched out as far as the eye could see. Commotion. Intermingling music dork conversations.
“Uh, that was only the best release on the K-Tel label.”
“Yeah, well, we had an original mono pressing but you can’t hold on to those.”
“Dude, this is a re-release. Forty bucks? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

My church. I wander aimlessly and lose myself in gorgeous album covers that are big enough for me to view and the smells of old cardboard that has history all its own.

One table had the fucking double-LP re-releases of the first two Stooges albums with all of the alternate tracks but the guy was grossly overcharging. “Fucking fuck!” I said to myself. “Why does this man shit on my dreams?” But it was OK; there were boatloads of other tables. Dick.

Turns out I did quite well. Some excellent purchases all were cheaply priced, so I didn’t leave the place without my savings. I am now relaxing with a beer and a bowl and enjoying the good fruits of my journey:

1. Steve Martin – Let’s Get Small ($5)

What can I say? The man’s a comedic genius. This is his first album and on it he immediately takes the art of banjo comedy to a whole new level. And he can tear it up! Now I play a bit of banjo, but nothing like the master here. He even suggests that rollicking banjo playing could’ve saved Nixon, a thought that cracks me up and absolutely horrifies me at the same time. An overall excellent debut, and the reason I am currently ordering another copy of “Cruel Shoes.” Here’s a song that Steve’s grandmother used to sing to him, and it brought me to a state of calming peace. Hope it does the same for you—

Be courteous, kind, and forgiving
Be gentle and peaceful each day
Be warm and human and grateful
And always have a good thing to say

Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike
Be witty and happy and wise
Be honest and love all your neighbors
Be obsequious, purple and clairvoyant

Be sure to stop at stop signs
And drive fifty-five miles an hour
Pick up hitchhikers foaming at the mouth
And when you get home get a master’s degree in geology

Be pompous, obese, and eat cactus
Be dull and boring and omnipresent
Criticize things you don’t know about
Be oblong and have your knees removed

Be tasteless, rude and offensive
Live in a swamp and be three dimensional
Put a live chicken in your underwear
Get all excited and go to a yawning festival

(Ladies only) Never make love to Bigfoot
(Men only) Hello, my name is Bigfoot
(Everyone) Put a live chicken in your underwear
Go into a closet and suck eggs

2. David Frye – Richard Nixon Superstar ($2)

With a name like “Richard Nixon Superstar,” can you really go wrong? And with a $2 price tag, it was really a non-issue. The cover of this gem alone was worth more than the price. Unfortunately, the album was not nearly as funny as the overall concept. David Frye tells the story of Nixon’s life, does a killer Nixon impression, and employs such comedic big hitters as Welcome Back Kotter’s Gabe Kaplan to assist him with other impressions. But the jokes are on par with Jay Leno’s on this Catskill mountains reunion of a record. I just kept waiting for the “Nixon has sex with his mother in an outhouse” scenario to no avail.

3. Arthur Brown – The Crazy World of Arthur Brown ($13)

If you’ve never witnessed the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, then you need to come hang out and listen to this record with me. His debut psychedelic 1968 album is so over the top it’s ridiculous. Ever know anyone from the drama club, a guy who did theatre and was overannoyingly dramatic 24 hours a day and had to be the center of attention for the same amount of time? Well give that guy a sheetful of acid and a recording contract and presto! Arthur Brown.

I’ve always said that one of my absolute favorite things about 50s and 60s records is the great artist descriptions found on the back cover. This one says it all:

At first—with Arthur Brown being lowered by crane on to the stage—it looked like being just another piece of zaniness. But once Brown began his staccato dancing, his face concealed inside a glistening helmet and visor, a saffron robe floating from his shoulders, one became aware of a uniqueness. He belongs to a tradition that goes beyond Music Hall, right back to the mummers’ plays. Yet there is a sinister element, too, and one which recalls the smell of seaweed and the rattle of spades and pails. For somehow Arthur Brown contrives to be both the malevolent Punch and—in drag, with grotesque wig and flowered gown—a psychedelic Judy. The effect is disquieting, especially when joined to the singing—fastish blues, and sung exceptionally well, with a voice that can swoop and screech and flutter. So far the Hippies have done little to opt for smugness instead of hypocrisy. Arthur Brown could easily be the first genuine artist to come out of our local underground. He’s disconcerting, even faintly perverse, but distinctly original and very, very English.

4. Rocky Horror Show – Original Roxy Cast w/The “Wrecking Crew” ($5)

This was the soundtrack for Barry Adler’s Los Angeles run of the stageshow, before it went to film. A very interesting version of the tunes; however, it can be disconcerting if you were raised on the movie soundtrack, which is such a phenomenal rock record. Here, the songs come off much more campy (if that’s possible with this show), but the use of the world famous “Wrecking Crew” (Hal Blaine on skins, Joe Osborn on bass, Dean Parks on guitar, etc.) adds a strange Phil Spectorish tinge. Overall, this recording is the mega-happy version of the tunes, lacking the bittersweet melancholy that quietly slithers through the movie soundtrack, which definitely reigns supreme.

5. Lothar and the Hand People – Presenting… Lothar and the Hand People ($7)

YES!! I almost shit when I unearthed this treasure from a random bin. According to these frightening-looking fellows, the group with the hands-down best name ever came together when Lothar, inventor Leon Theremin’s very first theremin from the year 1920, gathered them at a predestined meeting and took control over them. I’m serious.

The album is a good psychedelic romp, heavily echoing Zappa’s sound while coming nowhere near it. But with songs like “Sex and Violence,” where the titular phrase is simply repeated throughout the song, it’s an entertaining listen. And if you were high, it would be a very entertaining lesson.

Their second album, “Space Hymn,” is much better and much harder to find. I’ve been searching in vain for some Lothar ever since I discovered this album in my dad’s old record collection when I was just out of high school. I remember thinking how trippy the cover was; then, when I played it, I knew the truth about my dad. While hints were always in the air about his “experimentation,” the full truth was never revealed to the extent that Lothar and his Hand People managed that day. My Dad was a stoner freak. Only a stoner freak could buy such an album. It had incantations and literally “count backwards from 10” hypnosis inducers on it, backed by Theremin music and backwards tape loops for Christ’s sake! I mean the thing should have come with an incense stick and a Twinkie. Anyway, I also remember calling my Dad up at work that day, still laughing my ass off, and calling him out on his “behavior.” Of course he couldn’t deny it; “Today is Only Yesterday’s Tomorrow” was playing in the background.

6. Various – Folk and Popular Roots of Country Music – Franklin Mint Record Society Release (2 LPs, $14)

A gorgeous double LP box set from the Franklin Mint series, complete with burgundy vinyl and a letter from the mint thanking me for my purchase (your welcome, Frank). Great old recordings of the primordial folk and country tunes that were here before your great-granddaddy was kneehigh to a junebug. A great set; nothing like old-timey songs sung with the crackle of vinyl. And the incredible picture of old folky Hamper McBee holding and staring menacingly at a jar of moonshine is a cherry on top.

7. Various – An Anthology of Folk Music (5 LPs, $10)

This was really the holy grail of my finds today. A five-record set, modeled after and even containing recordings straight from the legendary Smithsonian Folkways Anthology, it covers the wide range of American Folk, from South Appalachians instrumentals to Guthrie to Leadbelly to John Lee Hooker to Odetta. It even has some Scottish and Italian folk music. Some joyous and carefree, others ominous and dreadful. Five incedible records. Ten dollars. Color me happy.

Well that’s my booty. Much love to those who still sell records. Now I think I’ll top off the night by listening to the best radio show around today—Little Steven’s Underground Garage. I highly recommend it. Pun intended. And may great Sundays be had by all.