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Monkee Music 3: Headquarters

Posted in music by Andrew Hickey on August 27, 2011

A revised and improved version of this essay appears in my book Monkee Music, available as paperback, hardback, PDF, Kindle (US), Kindle (UK) and ePub (all DRM-free).

A brief note for this one, I will be dealing with the Headquarters Sessions box set in the book, but won’t be posting that chapter here, because several pages of “yet another aimless jam session” don’t make for a good blog post…

After More Of The Monkees was a huge commercial success but (in the opinion of at least some of the Monkees, most vocally Nesmith) an artistic failure, the working relationship between the band (other than Davy Jones) and Don Kirshner, Screen Gems’ music supervisor reached breaking point.

The band were growing increasingly embarrassed by attacks on them for not playing the instruments on their records (attacks which ignored the fact that this was true for the majority of successful American bands of the time) and Nesmith intensely disliked the bubblegum music the band had been producing up until this point. Tork, meanwhile, had auditioned for the TV show because he wanted to be in a proper rock band, and wanted the four of them to play together, while Dolenz wanted to show solidarity with his colleagues.

The resulting rows, with Kirshner wanting the band to shut up and take the money and do as they were told, and the Monkees insisting on making their own music, led to Kirshner losing his job with Screen Gems and the Monkees being allowed to record as a band.

Headquarters was the first – and as it turned out, the only – album the band produced as a band. With producer Chip Douglas (who had never produced before, having previously been bass player in The Turtles), the band cut the basic tracks live, with Tork and Nesmith handling all guitars and keyboards (with a little help from Dolenz), Dolenz on drums, and Jones on hand percussion.

The only parts of the rhythm tracks that were performed by other musicians were the bass parts, which were mostly handled by Douglas but with Jerry Yester (a well-known LA musician who’d previously been in the Modern Folk Quartet and would later be in the Lovin’ Spoonful, as well as working with Tim Buckley, The Association and others) and Nesmith’s friend John London sometimes stepping in.

The band also, for the first time, provided all their own backing vocals.

The result was a huge success. While commercially the album did less well than its predecessors – it ‘only’ went to number one for one week, though it stayed at number two for the rest of the summer after being knocked down by Sgt Pepper – artistically it’s a fascinating work. It’s patchy, but the highs are higher than anything the band had previously released, while the lows are at least of the ‘interesting experiment’ type, rather than being nakedly manipulative. This was the start of a run of four albums that’s up there with the great runs of albums of the 60s, and the next two years would see the Monkees go artistically from strength to strength, even as their commercial career began its inevitable downward slide.

Unless otherwise noted, all tracks on this album feature all the Monkees, so the “Other Monkees Present” credit will be left off for this album. Likewise, Chip Douglas produced every track, so the “producer” credit is absent. The generic credits are:

Michael Nesmith: vocals, pedal steel guitar, 6-string guitar, organ

Davy Jones: vocals, percussion

Micky Dolenz: vocals, drums, guitar

Peter Tork: vocals, keyboards, 12-string guitar, bass, banjo

Chip Douglas: bass

Produced By: Chip Douglas

You Told Me

Writer: Michael Nesmith

Lead Vocalist: Michael Nesmith

The first song we hear to feature all the Monkees instrumentally (though as on many songs on this album Jones’ instrumental contribution is limited to some token bits of hand percussion, buried in a bass-heavy mix) shows that Kirshner’s worries about them as instrumentalists were unfounded.

Dolenz is clearly the most limited of the bunch as a musician (unlike Tork and Nesmith, he was an actor first, a singer second and a musician a distant third) but even so his drumming here is perfectly competent. He’s a tad stiff at moments, and the tempo varies a little (only a very small amount, mostly due to getting excited at the good bits, so it ends up having a more organic feel anyway), so he’s clearly not up to the standards of Hal Blaine or Jim Gordon, but he’s playing with genuine energy, and his zither playing is an interesting addition.

Nesmith, on twelve-string guitar, turns in a good performance, but truth be told this would be a hard song to mess up on guitar, being just four major chords.

But Tork’s banjo playing is an absolute revelation, and the start of a brief period where Tork is truly allowed to shine as a musician. The song itself is a clear attempt to sound as much like George Harrison as possible – the bass-line is from Taxman (which is nodded to in the intro, parodying Taxman‘s “one, two, three, four” intro), while the melody line is a slightly more rangey version of the melody to Harrison’s I Need You, but Tork’s double-time bluegrass picking adds an incongruous, but perfect, element. (In fact Tork would shortly add banjo to a Harrison recording, the Wonderwall film soundtrack).

Other than a few production tricks (what sounds like backwards reverb on the backing vocals) and minimal overdubs, this is the sound of a very good Beatles-inspired garage band with an excellent vocalist, who’ve somehow managed to get a virtuoso banjo player to play along with them.

It’s a world away from the sound of the first two albums, but still an excellent piece of country pop music.

I’ll Spend My Life With You

Writers: Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart

Lead Vocalist:
Micky Dolenz

And this track shows that the Monkees (or at least Tork, who appears to have done much of the heavy lifting with the arrangements on this album) were also better arrangers than the professionals they’d been working with.

A pleasant Boyce and Hart mid-tempo ballad, this had originally been recorded with its writers producing during the More Of The Monkees sessions (and that version is available as a bonus track on the More Of The Monkees CD), but had, rightly, been turned down. That original version sounds like little more than a demo, with a badly double-tracked Dolenz backed by a couple of strummed acoustic guitars.

The version here, though, as well as having a much more sensitive performance from Dolenz, is much more subtly arranged. Rather than a drum kit, we have Dolenz providing Johnny Cash style boom-chicka-boom rhythm guitar and Jones adding tambourine. Nesmith adds subtle colouring on pedal steel, and Tork provides faint organ tones, a gentle celeste solo, and most importantly some technically quite demanding ragtime twelve-string guitar.

Tork’s musicianship gets neglected when people discuss the Monkees’ music – partly because he was allowed to display it so briefly – but his ability to play in a variety of folk and classical idioms added hugely to the band’s stylistic range. And more importantly, in a band full of huge egos, he seems to have had no problem at all with playing subtle, difficult parts that get almost buried in the mix but which add enormously to the finished product.

Forget That Girl

Writer: Douglas Farthing Hatfeild (Chip Douglas)

Lead Vocalist: Davy Jones

Written by producer/bassist Chip Douglas, and originally intended to have a feel similar to Rescue Me by Fontella Bass, this ended up being the closest thing on the album to the sound of the first two albums, with a much softer, acoustic pop sound.

It’s also a genuine group performance of the type the band would mime on the TV – other than Douglas’ bass, this is the band all playing the instruments they were known for. Dolenz on drums, Nesmith on guitar, Tork on electric piano and Jones singing and playing maracas.

A lightweight song, with some slightly jazzy chords, this is lifted above mediocrity by a truly exceptional vocal performance by Jones. Usually the weakest of the band’s lead vocalists, here he manages to turn in a light, almost-whispered vocal right at the top of his range, shading into falsetto at several points.

Band 6

Writers: David Jones, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork and Michael Nesmith

Lead Vocalist:
instrumental

A forty-second snippet, edited together from several sections of in-studio messing about, this consists of about twenty-five seconds of Dolenz on drums and Nesmith on pedal steel playing totally unrelated parts, before coming together to play a brief burst of The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down (the Looney Tunes theme).

You Just May Be the One

Writer: Michael Nesmith

Lead Vocalist:
Michael Nesmith

Another full-group performance, this time with Tork on bass (double-tracked, with one bass sounding like a Danelectro bass – a trick Nesmith had used to give a country sound to several of his recordings over the previous year) this Nesmith song had originally been recorded with members of the Wrecking Crew and used in the TV show (that version is on The Monkees deluxe edition).

A catchy Beatlesque pop song, this is full of hooks, from the two extra beats dropped into the first line of the verses (which can be broken down into a bar of four, a bar of six and a bar of four), to the way the instruments drop out for the start of the title line, to the way the backing vocals all hold the same high note on the middle eight while the lead vocal descends down the scale.

Had there not been a de facto ban by the record label on releasing singles with a lead vocal by anyone other than Dolenz or Jones, this would have been an obvious hit single. Written by Nesmith before the Monkees formed, it manages perfectly to straddle the boundaries between country music and jangly powerpop in a way that few others could, pointing the way forward to bands like Big Star or mid-period REM, but with a lighter touch. Sublime.

Shades of Gray

Writers:
Barry Mann and Cynthia Weill

Lead Vocalists:
Davy Jones and Peter Tork

The only track on the album to feature instrumentalists other than the Monkees (plus a friend on bass), this has folk-rocker Jerry Yester providing bass, but also features ‘cello and French horn parts performed by session musicians (but arranged by Nesmith and Tork).

A clear attempt at being this album’s I Wanna Be Free, like that song this is hugely popular among Monkees fans, and also like that song I dislike it intensely. It’s a fundamentally callow song, the kind of thing best left to teenage poetry, written by people who clearly think they were being terribly profound.

Tork does, however, get to share the lead vocals with Jones on this one, making it only his second lead to be released.

I Can’t Get Her Off Of My Mind

Writers: Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart

Lead Vocalist: Davy Jones

Another song that had been recorded and rejected in the band’s early sessions (that version is available on The Monkees deluxe edition), this is a rather insipid music-hall style song of the type Jones seemed to enjoy doing.

This track has very little to recommend it, other than that it’s better than the original version, thanks to some nice barrelhouse piano from Tork. Jerry Yester again adds bass.

For Pete’s Sake

Writer: Peter Tork and Joey Richards

Lead Vocalist: Micky Dolenz

Tork’s first attempt at songwriting, this later became the closing theme for series two of the Monkees’ TV show. A simple, naive song of hippy hope (“in this generation, we will make the world a shine”), it’s a very strong construction as a recording and arrangement, with a powerful vocal by Dolenz and some simplistic but effective Hammond from Nesmith (and some surprisingly dodgy guitar playing, that’s buried quite far in the mix).

The combination of the great guitar hook at the beginning and the build from D to E to Fmaj7 on “we must be what we’re going to be” mean the record ends up being quite effective, but it’s still ultimately rather empty of content as a song.

Mr. Webster

Writers: Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart

Lead Vocalist: Micky Dolenz

Another Boyce/Hart song, this had originally been recorded in a rather overwrought pseudo-baroque harpsichord-driven version (that version can be heard on the More Of The Monkees). This version is recorded in the same style as I’ll Spend My Life With You, though with Chip Douglas rather than Yester on bass. Otherwise it’s the same line-up – Tork on piano, Dolenz on rhythm guitar, Nesmith on pedal steel and Jones on tambourine.

One of Boyce and Hart’s better songs, this was their attempt to write a song like Eleanor Rigby, but in fact it sounds far more like some of Paul Simon’s early efforts – A Most Peculiar Man or Richard Corey. It tells the story of a bank employee (inspired by a security guard they saw at their local bank, but the employee’s job is not mentioned), constantly passed over for raises, who steals all the money in the bank on the day of his retirement.

Once again the Monkees and Douglas show themselves to be more effective arrangers than Boyce and Hart, with every element perfectly placed, and with a wonderful start-stop rhythm that works most effectively on the line “sorry STOP, cannot attend.”

Sunny Girlfriend

Writer:
Michael Nesmith

Lead Vocalist: Michael Nesmith

A full-band performance with long-time Nesmith collaborator John London joining on bass, this simple Nesmith country-pop song is enlivened by some great bluegrass-esque harmonies from Dolenz from the second verse on, and some backwards reverb on the cymbals on the intro. Tork provides the lead guitar.

Zilch

Writers: Peter Tork, David Jones, Micky Dolenz, & Michael Nesmith

Lead Vocalist:
Peter Tork, David Jones, Micky Dolenz, & Michael Nesmith

A simple spoken round, with each band member repeating a single phrase over and over. In order we have Tork saying “Mr. Dobalina, Mr Bob Dobalina” (a phrase Dolenz had heard over an airport tannoy, later sampled by rapper Del Tha Funkee Homosapien for the song Mistadobalina), Jones saying “China Clipper calling Alameda” (a line from the Humphrey Bogart film China Clipper), Dolenz saying “Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self-defence” (a line from Oklahoma! – “It was self-defence, and furthermore…” “Never mind the furthermore. The plea is self-defence.”), and Nesmith saying “It is of my opinion that the people are intending” (apparently from a political speech).

On the Headquarters Sessions box set, these spoken tracks can be heard isolated.

No Time

Writer: Hank Cicalo (Peter Tork, David Jones, Micky Dolenz, & Michael Nesmith)

Lead Vocalist: Micky Dolenz

Built around a jam session variously reported as being on a Chuck Berry or Little Richard song (given that the piano break is a very sloppy attempt at the guitar part from Berry’s Johnny B Goode that was probably the song they were attempting – the resemblance is closer on the early instrumental version that can be heard on the Headquarters Sessions set), this was given lyrics, mostly by Dolenz and Nesmith, referencing various counterculture-ish things (Andy Warhol, drug busts and so on), with the first verse being Bill Cosby nonsense words (“Hober reeber sabasoben/Hobaseeba snick/Seeberraber hobosoben/What did you expect?”)

Almost all the point of this track comes from the energy of the performance – not just from Dolenz’s screaming vocal but also from the backing vocals (Jones sounds permanently on the point of hysteria).

While the song evolved from a jam, the band decided to give the songwriting credit to engineer Hank Cicalo, in thanks for his work on the album.

Early Morning Blues and Greens

Writers:
Diane Hildebrand and Jack Keller

Lead Vocalist: Davy Jones

Strangely, after the Monkees disliked Your Auntie Grizelda, they accepted another song by the same writers. Luckily, this is much, much better than that. A meditative piece detailing Hildebrand’s impressions while drinking a cup of coffee, this actually bears a slight resemblance to Nesmith’s contemporaneous The Girl I Knew Somewhere.

And much like that track, much of the power of this comes from Tork’s musicianship. The song is driven by his soft electric piano arpeggios and Hammond playing, with the rest of the instrumentation coming from some simple muted twelve-string guitar from Nesmith, a simple, repetitive bass riff from Chip Douglas and a percussion part which seems to consist just of hi-hat from Dolenz and maracas from Jones.

The most interesting feature of this is the crashing sound every two bars in the later part of the song. This is actually two different instrumental parts, sometimes playing together and sometimes separately – one of them is the organ part, the other sounds like very heavily reverbed guitar, possibly with the strings being hit with a drumstick.

And Jones, in one of only two solo lead performances on this album, the fewest he would ever do, more than justifies his presence, providing some gorgeous harmonies with himself. Jones is generally the weakest of the four Monkees as a vocalist, but on this album he rises to the occasion.

Hildebrand later used this song as the title track of her only solo album.

Alternate Title (aka “Randy Scouse Git”)

Writer: Micky Dolenz

Lead Vocalist: Micky Dolenz

Dolenz’s first songwriting contribution to the band is also the highlight of the album, and maybe of the band’s career. Based on a simple four-chord progression (a broken up version of the standard doo-wop I-vi-ii-V progression) in the sixteen-bar verses, with a one-chord eight-bar chorus, this track is proof, if proof be needed, that harmonic sophistication is not needed to create a complex, rewarding piece of pop music.

The structure of the song breaks down as follows:

Intro by Dolenz on tympani, playing a rhythm – roughly five quavers followed by a beat and a half of silence, repeated over and over, that will later be heard in the chorus (we’ll call this the intro rhythm). The tympani then fades out.

Tork then repeats the intro rhythm on piano, twice, with Douglas adding comical single-note bass interjections in the silences, before playing a variation of the rhythm that leads into the first verse.

In the first verse we have just Dolenz on vocals, Tork playing syncopated piano chords, and Douglas adding a simple descending scalar bassline, leading to a ragtime feel.

In the second verse, Nesmith comes in, doubling the piano part on guitar, while Dolenz adds some woodblock percussion. Towards the end, the tympani becomes audible again, almost subliminally.

For the chorus, the piano all but drops out, and it turns into a guitar-led rave-up, with a full drum kit playing a fairly straightforward rock part while the tympani play the intro rhythm. Douglas meanwhile is playing a country bass part (similar to that of, for example, Rawhide). Jones allegedly joins in on backing vocals here.

We get another verse, with the same instrumentation as the second verse, but with added cymbals in the second half and an altogether looser feeling, and another chorus.

We then get a verse, taken at the same fast tempo as the choruses and with the same guitar-led instrumental, but Dolenz scatting wildly over the top, in a manner that was almost certainly influenced by the band’s friend Harry Nilsson (of whom much more later). We briefly get a tympani reprise of the intro rhythm before going into another, double length chorus.

This last chorus has a prominent organ holding the chord down, on top of the rest of the instrumentation, and has Dolenz multi-tracked singing both the first verse and the chorus at the same time (possibly inspired by the similar effect on When Love Comes Knocking At Your Door). We then get a repeat of the piano part of the intro, ending on a guitar dischord and what sounds like drumsticks dropping to the floor, and then the tympani fades in, and back out again, playing the intro rhythm. (Oddly, an early mix of the song, available on the Headquarters Sessions box set, features instead of the tympani fade, a hard edit into Tork and Dolenz singing the folk song I Was Born In East Virginia to banjo accompaniment. The box set also features the full performance of that song).

The whole thing lasts just two minutes and thirty-five seconds, and remarkably manages to stand up well against the great experimental singles of the period, like Good Vibrations or Strawberry Fields Forever, even though the Beatles and Beach Boys were moving towards greater use of studio musicians and trickery at precisely the point where the Monkees were, briefly, being a ‘real rock band’ (though Headquarters ended up being the only album on which all the Monkees performed on every track, and on which Dolenz was the only drummer).

Lyrically, the song is an elliptical description of Dolenz’s experiences visiting England, with lyrics referencing Dolenz’s first wife (the Mancunian Samantha Juste, then a TV host on BBC 1′s Top Of The Pops), the Beatles, and hotel doormen (“he reminds me of a penguin, with few and plaster hairs”). Unfortunately for Dolenz, the song’s title, another reference to his British trip (an overheard line from the sitcom Til Death Us Do Part), was considered obscene in the UK at the time, and so the song was given the alternate title Alternate Title for its release as a single in those countries that speak British English.

Bonus Tracks

All of Your Toys

Writer: Bill Martin

Lead Vocalist: Micky Dolenz

A bouncy, harpsichord-driven track written by a friend of Chip Douglas. A wonderful arrangement with a descending scalar bassline, harpsichord chords and 12-string arpeggios, with Dolenz singing lead and answering vocals, and a wonderful vocal harmony break, this sounds like an attempt to do something similar to the work Brian Wilson was doing at the time, but actually comes out slightly closer to soft-pop classics like Jan & Dean’s Carnival Of Sound or the contemporaneous work by Curt Boettcher and Gary Usher.

Unfortunately, this was never released at the time because of contractual problems – Martin was signed to a publisher other than Screen Gems, and so this had to wait two decades for release.

The Girl I Knew Somewhere

Writer: Michael Nesmith

Lead Vocalist: Michael Nesmith/Micky Dolenz

One of Nesmith’s better pop songs, this story of a man who’s been betrayed before and is wary of getting together with someone similar was intended for single release – to the extent that Nesmith’s orginal vocal was replaced with one by Dolenz, because at this point only Dolenz or Jones vocals were considered for release on singles.

This was in most ways a shame – Nesmith’s original vocal is a more mature, stronger performance than Dolenz’s – but it did allow the wonderful touch in the last verse where Dolenz’s lines are echoed by Nesmith.

With a wonderful harpsichord break by Tork and its Beatlesque backing vocals, this is a sophisticated, strong piece of music that should have been a huge hit single. As it was, it ended up as the B-side of A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You.

Peter Gunn’s Gun

Writer: Henry Mancini

Lead Vocalist: instrumental

A studio jam, based loosely round a rather incompetent rendition of the riff from Mancini’s Peter Gunn. This was never intended for release, and other than Tork’s spoken interjection “What are you, kidding me? Psycho Jello!” probably should have stayed in the can. This sort of thing is how every band in the world lets off steam, and it’s fun for the band, but not really for the listeners.

Jericho

Writer: trad.

Lead Vocalist: Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork

A bit of studio chatter – Dolenz attempts to play the French horn, and this reminds him of Joshua and the battle of Jericho. Dolenz and Tork then break into an impromptu a capella rendition of the gospel song Joshua Fit The Battle Of Jericho. It’s actually quite an extraordinary performance, and shows the musicality of both men, with Tork’s folk sensibilities combining to great effect with Dolenz’s James Brown inspired gospel shrieking. It’s only studio tomfoolery, but is much better than the previous track.

Nine Times Blue

Writer: Michael Nesmith

Lead Vocalist:
Michael Nesmith

A contender for greatest song ever written, this has the simple, sparse, heartbreaking elegance of a You Don’t Know Me or I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, and Nesmith here matches John Lennon or Brian Wilson in the portrayal of an angry, jealous man humbled by a woman who’s clearly better than him but loves him anyway.

Nesmith clearly realised it was good. He attempted it multiple times – a bizarre instrumental version on the tax write-off solo album The Wichita Train Whistle Sings, versions with both himself and Jones on lead vocals during the The Birds, The Bees and The Monkees sessions, and a version for a TV performance with Jones and Dolenz providing harmonies during the last days of the band’s career – before finally releasing it on his solo album Magnetic South.

Still, though, I think the best version is the acoustic demo version here, partly because the simplicity of the arrangement (two guitars, what sounds like one twelve-string and one six-string, and vocals) works well for the song, but also because between this and the later versions he changed the line “the lessons I’ve learned here is worth it all” to “the lessons I’ve learned here are worth it all”.

The latter is, of course, more grammatically correct, but the earlier version sounds more honest, like the product of a man who’s too overcome emotionally to bother about grammar.

But in every version, this is one of the truly great songs, and deserves much wider recognition.

A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You

Writer: Neil Diamond

Lead Vocalist: Davy Jones

Other Monkees present: None

Producer:
Jeff Barry

The Monkees’ third single, this was cut in New York at the insistence of Don Kirshner, who had promised Neil Diamond the next Monkees single after the success of I’m A Believer. Jones, who was the only Monkee still on speaking terms with Kirshner, cut several vocals on a trip to New York, of which this and its original B-Side She Hangs Out were two.

Unfortunately for Kirshner, he insisted on putting both tracks out on the same single, after the record company had agreed with the band that every single would have at least one track on which the Monkees themselves played, so the single was pulled, She Hangs Out replaced with The Girl I Knew Somewhere, and Kirshner lost his job supervising the band’s music. The single, the first not to feature Micky on lead, sold 1.5 million copies before it came out, and went gold on the day of release.

Not up to the standard of the band’s previous singles, this is still a pleasant, vaguely Latin-infused track, driven by acoustic guitars and handclaps . Jones’ vocal is not one of his most convincing, though, and he fails to sell the “oh no, hey now girl…” supposed ad lib ending.

Love To Love

Writer: Neil Diamond

Lead Vocalist: Davy Jones

Other Monkees present: None

Producer: Jeff Barry

Another song from the same sessions, this is a slower, more moody Diamond song in the manner of Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon or Solitary Man, driven by a prominent bass and Hammond organ part. This would probably have been a better choice for single, had it not been for Jones’ rather flat vocals (he rerecorded them in 1969, and that version has been released, too, but the two performances are almost identical). The chorus, in particular, which is based on the standard Hang On Sloopy/Twist And Shout/Louie, Louie changes, is very effective.

The track remained unreleased until 1979, when the version with 1969 vocals came out. Of the different mixes of this available, by far the best is the stereo mix on the Headquarters Deluxe Edition, which has a boosted bass sound compared to the other mixes.

You Can’t Tie a Mustang Down

Writers: Jeff Barry, Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller

Lead Vocalist: Davy Jones

Other Monkees present: None

Producer: Jeff Barry

Another song from the same New York sessions, this is a rare misstep from Leiber and Stoller, who wrote some of the best songs of the 1950s and 60s. This song about being a young, powerful man who can’t be tied down by women might possibly have passed muster for Elvis Presley, who could have infused it with a swaggering sexuality, and who had enough humour in his phrasing that he could even have sold the clunky last chorus line “You can’t keep an ocean in a cup/You can’t tie a mustang down…or up!”

Davy Jones, however, is far closer to a Shetland pony, or possibly a seaside donkey ride, than to a mustang. This song was wisely left unreleased until a cheap hits compilation in 1998.

If I Learned to Play the Violin

Writer: Joey Levine and Artie Resnick

Lead Vocalist: Davy Jones

Other Monkees present: None

Producer: Jeff Barry

Yet another song from the New York session, this was clearly another attempt at an I Wanna Be Free-style ballad showcase for Davy, who does easily his best vocal of this bunch of tracks here, especially with his Everly Brothers style harmony on the line “take up more discreet ways” in the middle eight (this harmony part is unaccountably mixed down on the version on the Headquarters deluxe edition, but can be heard on the original mix).

The main problem here is the lyric, from the point of view of a young, rebellious man offering to become respectable instead of a long-haired guitar-playing beatnik, so his girlfriend’s parents will accept him. It’s just, frankly, terrible – it’s hard to know which to dislike more, the sentiment or the execution (with some appalling scansion, stresses falling all over the place but rarely where they naturally should). It’s also, as mentioned above, quite difficult to imagine Davy Jones as a rebellious firebrand who needed taming.

The song, wisely, remained unreleased until it was sneaked out on a CD-ROM in 1996.

She’ll Be There

Writer: Unknown

Lead Vocalist: Micky Dolenz

Other Monkees present: None

One of several demos recorded early in the Headquarters sessions, this is Micky Dolenz and his sister Coco, backed by a single acoustic guitar, singing a close-harmony ballad very clearly modelled after those Felice and Boudleaux Bryant wrote for the Everly Brothers. A lovely, lovely performance of what is quite a slight song.

New Spotify (And 8Tracks) Playlist – Best Of The Sixties

Posted in music by Andrew Hickey on April 21, 2010

This playlist is rather different from my normal playlists. Normally, I try to mix up obscure tracks, new things I’ve only just discovered, and old classics. This time, however, this is (almost) on commission.

Talking by email with Plok earlier today, he said he knew a teenager who wanted to learn more about ‘sixties music’, naming a couple of tracks she liked. He told me a couple of other things about her (she’s bright and cheerful, very innocent, etc) and asked me for suggestions.

So I’ve tried to put together a playlist that covers *ALL* of ‘sixties music’, which is frankly impossible. To make it more difficult, I’ve tried to structure it like a mix tape (it’s 90 minutes to within a minute or so), and I’ve also used 8track.com , a site that allows you to create streaming playlists of MP3s, but no more than two tracks by each artist per playlist, because that (unlike Spotify) should be accessible in Canada. I wanted to *try* to get everything from folk-rock to freakbeat to Brit-Blues to psych to soul in there, but 90 minutes is not a long time… I also wanted to put in tracks that would be interesting pointers to other stuff.

I’ve tried to go for a mix of obvious hits and obscure but interesting, but with the emphasis on the former. The notes below should be taken as a guide for teenagers, rather than for people who already know this music, so apologies if it seems patronising to my normal readers. Spotify playlist here, 8track playlist here.

Side 1
Wouldn’t It Be Nice by The Beach Boys opens what many consider the best album ever, Pet Sounds. While it seems like just a simple pop song, it has layers of instruments and vocals that reward repeated listening.

You’re No Good by The Swinging Blue Jeans is included not just because it’s a great little pop record, but also for historical value. The Beatles didn’t come out of nowhere – they were part of a scene, Merseybeat, that produced dozens of successful bands in the early 60s. The Swinging Blue Jeans were the best of the other Merseybeat bands, so this gives some idea of what the competition was like for the Beatles.

Time Of The Season by The Zombies is actually musically quite similar to You’re No Good, but is from the other end of the sixties. From another contender for ‘best album ever’, Odessey And Oracle (yes, it’s spelled that way), the Zombies had already split up by the time this charted.

The Door Into Summer by The Monkees shows just how fast music was changing in the 60s. A year before this, the Monkees had been a manufactured band for a TV show, but now they were busy inventing country-rock, and not just country-rock, but psychedelic country-rock based on a Robert Heinlein science fiction novel…

Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys is pretty much undoubtedly the best single ever released. You may think you know this one from commercials or whatever, but actually *listen* to it and you’ll be astonished.

Do You Believe In Magic? by The Lovin’ Spoonful is one of the most *fun* tracks of the decade.

Days by The Kinks may be the most beautiful song ever written. Nothing more to say about that.

How Does It Feel To Feel? by The Creation is one of the most influential records of the sixties, even though it was never a hit. Listen to this and you realise that Oasis were nothing more than a tribute act to The Creation, but with slightly less talent. Seriously, this is *every* Oasis record ever, but better, and it’s from 1965.

Summer In The City by The Lovin’ Spoonful is a song pretty much everyone already knows, but is here just in case.

Tin Soldier by The Small Faces is actually very like Summer In The City, structurally, but just listen to the dynamics of this record, the way it moves between sections. And that VOICE. Steve Marriot was a short, white lad from London, but his voice here could blow away any soul or rock singer ever.

Dark End Of The Street by James Carr is the best soul ballad ever, and another incredible voice.

You Don’t Have To Walk In The Rain by The Turtles is the single from Turtle Soup, their attempt at making an album like the Kinks’ Village Green Preservation Society – even getting Ray Davies of the Kinks to produce it. It’s a great pop single, and funny with it (“I look at your face/I love you anyway”)

Making Time by The Creation is a more typical 60s garage track than How Does It Feel, but powerful.

Shakin’ All Over by Johnny Kidd And The Pirates is the first great British rock record, from well before the Beatles ever recorded. Just listen to that great guitar riff, and the drum break….

While Seven And Seven Is by Love invented punk and heavy metal while most bands hadn’t even got round to the whole ‘flowers in your hair’ bit yet – this is, staggeringly, from 1966.

Side 2
Even more amazingly, Alone Again Or by Love is the same band a year later.Hard to believe, isn’t it? From another of the general contenders for ‘best album ever’ – Forever Changes.

This Will Be Our Year by The Zombies is another track from Odessey And Oracle, and one of the best songs about being happy in love ever. Shame Rod Argent and Hugh Grundy can’t keep in time with each other…

Some Mother’s Son by The Kinks is one of the saddest anti-war songs ever. World War I was being reassessed in the 60s, and that time period had a huge influence on British music of the period, and you really need at least one song about it on a compilation like this.

Be My Baby by The Ronnettes bom, bom-bom BOM, bom, bom-bom BOM

Lies by The Knickerbockers isn’t by the Beatles. Honestly. It’s a group of jobbing musicians from New Jersey. HONESTLY…

Look Out, There’s A Monster Coming by The Bonzo Dog Band is hilarious.

We’ve Got To Get Out Of This Place by The Animals is the greatest of all the British R&B singles, mostly for Eric Burdon’s astonishing vocal.

I’ve Been Good To You by The Miracles was one of John Lennon’s favourites – enough so that he stole a chunk of it for Sexy Sadie from the White Album.

Keep On Running by The Spencer Davis Group is included partly because it’s one of the best singles of the 60s, and partly because Jonathan Calder would look sternly at me if I didn’t include something with a Steve Winwood vocal.

The Old Laughing Lady by Neil Young from his first album is a pointer to a style that no-one really followed up on, not even Young himself, a sort of progressive-psych-folk-country but with orchestral arrangements. The nearest things I can think of to this track later on are Dennis Wilson or some of Gram Parsons’ music…

Sure ‘Nuff ‘n’ Yes I Do by Captain Beefheart And His Magic Band is about as commercial as the good Captain ever got, and has some great slide guitar by Ry Cooder.

Hold On, I’m Coming by Sam & Dave is one of the great soul tracks.

Walk Away Renee by The Four Tops is here to kill two birds with one stone – the original of this, by The Left Banke, is a classic of baroque pop, but the Four Tops manage to make it fit their Motown style perfectly.

I Say A Little Prayer by Aretha Franklin is an obvious choice, but sometimes obvious choices are obvious for a reason.

And The Intro And The Outro by The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band sees us out…

Spotify Playlist For 02/04/10 – Ella Fitzgerald, High Llamas, Imagined Village, Pearlfishers

Posted in music by Andrew Hickey on April 2, 2010

I’ve got a LOT of posts I want to make over this four-day weekend – reviews of The People’s Manifesto by Mark Thomas, This Town Will Never Let Us Go by Lawrence Miles, and I, Claudius and Claudius The God by Robert Graves, a post about Batman comics, a review of the new MoffWho, my incredibly belated review of Asterios Polyp, my contribution to Plok’s recent ‘meme’…
It may be that not all of these will get written in the next three and a half days, especially since I’m also trying desperately to recover data from a nearly-full terabyte external hard drive I dropped on the floor (it doesn’t have that many bad blocks, but unfortunately the boot sector is one of them – I could use photorec, but don’t really fancy hand-renaming and tagging tens of thousands of files, especially all the Beach Boys bootlegs – “Does this version of Barbara Ann sound more like the 1971 touring band or the 1972 one?”)…

Right now, however, I’ve got a migraine, so here’s a playlist of (mostly) relaxing, fun, light music.

I Am The Walrus by Papa Doo Run Run is an oddity. Papa Doo are a band from California who normally do painfully faithful recreations of early ’60s pop (they’re made up of people who used to be sidemen in the Beach Boys or Jan & Dean backing bands), and the album this is from is no exception, with karaoke-esque versions of California Girls, .Walk Like A Man, Eight Days A Week and so on. But this track is different – the Beatles’ psychedelic classic, reimagined as a one-minute surf guitar instrumental. It works astonishingly well…

Go Away Boy by The Pearlfishers is the first of three songs from Caroline, Now – a favourite album of mine that recently turned up on Spotify, consisting of remakes by (mostly) Scottish indie musicians (members of Teenage Fanclub, Belle & Sebastian, and so on) of obscure Beach Boys tracks. This one is a song Brian Wilson wrote for an out-of-print 1983 album by his ex-wife’s band The Honeys, and is girl-group-as-torch-song. Absolutely gorgeous.

Oh, Oh, Ooh, Ei, Ei, Ei, Wo Immer Es Auch Sei by Daisy Door and Peter Thomas was the song Tilt suggested I enter for the Pop World Cup round two, and I won with it…

Tam Lyn Retold by The Imagined Village is from the first Imagined Village album (the first is more interesting, the second better music). The Imagined Village are essentially an attempt by folk musicians to say folk you to the Bastard Nazi Party. The BNP have tried recently to use traditional English folk music as an expression of ‘ethnically British’ (i.e. white) ‘values’ (i.e. bigotry), BNP leader DickIbegyourpardonNick Griffin having claimed Eliza Carthy as one of his favourite musicians. So The Imagined Village are a loose grouping of musicians centred around Chris Wood and Martin and Eliza Carthy, who bring in musicians from the various traditions that have *added* to Britain over the last sixty years, and rework traditional English music with those influences. In this case, this is the traditional song Tam Lyn reworked by dub poet Benjamin Zephaniah, dance musicians Transglobal Underground, and Eliza Carthy, in a modern setting.

All I Wanna Do by June And The Exit Wounds is another one off Caroline, Now – a remake of a Mike Love/Brian Wilson song from Sunflower. I always thought this, even in its original version, sounded just like New Order – especially the middle eight (“Ooh when I sit and close my ey-eyes”).

It Might As Well Be Dumbo by The High Llamas is my personal favourite of their tracks.

The Diner Song by Jake Holmes is very much of a piece with his work on Genuine Imitation Life Gazette and Watertown (two of my very favourite albums). Those who like late-60s Scott Walker might like this one.

That’s What You Think by Janet Klein and Her Parlor Boys is a lovely, fun version of a 1920s jazz song, all clanking banjos and ukuleles.

Miss Clarke And The Computer by Roy Wood is one of the saddest songs ever – a song from a computer who’s in love with an engineer who is dismantling him. Wonderful instrumentation as well – what sounds like ‘cello, bouzouki, acoustic guitar, double bass and glockenspiel, all played by Wood himself.

Wax Minute by Michael Nesmith is from Nesmith’s third solo album after he quit the Monkees, Tantamount To Treason. It’s generally considered one of his weaker efforts, but this is an astonishingly literate lyric (“As you complicate things greatly since you came into my life/Old veneers and stately postures wax minute within your sigh/And the taxing way of adjusting to all the thoughts which you reveal/Only incites me to motion, well that’s the crux of your appeal”) and while the melody is a little too close to In My Life, Nesmith’s vocal here is possibly the greatest of his career.

Yellow Man by Ella Fitzgerald is a cover of the Randy Newman song. Ella was such a professional singer, and sold songs so well even when she hated them, that I honestly can’t tell if she ‘gets’ the joke here or not – and I’m not sure if it would be better if she did or didn’t…

You Don’t Have To Walk In The Rain by The Turtles is from one of the great unsung albums of the 60s, Turtle Soup. This album was essentially the Turtles’ attempt to do their own Village Green Preservation Society – to the extent that they got Ray Davies to produce the album. The end result, with its combination of California pop and British toytown psych, resembles nothing so much as the Zombies’ Odessey & Oracle. This track also has my favourite line of any lyric ever – “I look at your face, I love you anyway”.

Rainbow Skies by Kie (not K*Le as Spotify have it) is the third song here from Caroline Now. This one is a song that had at the time not been legally released before, and it’s one of my very favourite late Brian Wilson songs. Kie’s version is very close to Wilson’s recording, but with far better vocals.

And to finish off we have Love Songs by Margo Guryan. This song has been a favourite of mine for a while, but this demo version is if anything even better than the released one.

Spotify Playlist for 27/07 – Scott Walker, Bach, Os Mutantes

Posted in music by Andrew Hickey on July 26, 2009

A couple of things about today’s Spotify playlist. Firstly, I’m starting to lose track of what I’ve posted before, so if some tracks come up more than once, forgive me. I’m assuming no-one’s listening to *all* of these, anyway, just the ones that sound interesting to them.

The other thing is the notable lack of female artists. This is partly because my record collection is male-dominated, but also a lot of my favourite female performers (Carolyn Edwards and Joanna Newsom to name two) aren’t on Spotify yet. Anyone know of any really good female singers/songwriters I’d like?

Anyway, today’s playlist

Cossacks Are by Scott Walker is the opening song from his most recent (and to my mind best) album, The Drift. I have absolutely no idea what it’s about, but it sounds astonishing. Remember, this is someone who started his career in a boy band doing Four Seasons covers…

The Knife by Genesis is included after reading Gavin B’s post about it – it’s almost good enough to forgive them for Phil Collins.

Pale And Precious by The Dukes Of Stratosphear is XTC in their guise as a fake 60s psych band doing a perfect Beach Boys pastiche, while still managing to be a truly great song in its own right. Gorgeous stuff. Just listen to the “Don’t care what the others might say” section – it’s got *exactly* the same unexpected chord progression – and indeed the same distrust of other people in general and wish they’d disappear attached to an absolute adoration of one person in particular – that would happen in a Brian Wilson song at that point.

At this point, the playlist is a little proggy, so there’s a couple of simpler songs.

I’m Leaving It All Up To You by Don & Dewey is a song I found on a wonderful compilation called Frank Zappa’s Jukebox, which consists of stuff that Zappa listened to as a teenager, and so is a mixture of ‘difficult’ modern classical, skronking jazz and greasy blues and doo-wop. It’s an absolute treasure of a compilation.

Shakin’ All Over by Johnny Kidd & The Pirates is one of those records that was an absolutely massive hit in Britain in the early ’60s but almost no-one outside the UK knows. It’s a shame as it’s one of the great records of that period between Elvis getting drafted and the first Beatles record, which is generally regarded as a dead period in music but in fact produced people like Roy Orbison, Del Shannon and others who were far more influential than people now realise.

Movie Magg by Carl Perkins is a great record in its own right, but also a window into a time that seems a million years ago – this is a song about taking a girl to the cinema, but on the back of a horse. And recorded in the 1950s. The weird juxtaposition of the modern (the electrical kinematograph still seems modern to me, I am afraid) and what feels like the ancient, a song about a lost way of life that is still in the memory of many living, in a song that was a modern pop song at the time my Dad was born, seems very strange to me…

You Don’t Have To Walk In The Rain by The Turtles is from one of the very great overlooked albums of the 60s, Turtle Soup. This was the Turtles’ attempt to make their own Village Green Preservation Society and was produced by Ray Davies, and is a halfway house between the Kinks’ English pastoral and the Turtles’ California pop whose closest comparison is probably Odessey & Oracle. This was the single from the album, and the most conventional track on it, but I love the line “I look at your face/I love you anyway”.

Did You See Jackie Robinson Hit That Ball? by Buddy Johnson is for my wife, who’s spent most of the last few weeks watching rounders over the internet rather than talking to her long-suffering husband ;)

Opening Titles by Don Preston is another of Preston’s orchestral pieces. I’m becoming more and more convinced, the more I hear of Preston’s work, that he had the potential to be a true great had he not spent the last forty years in the shadow of his old boss. Shame.

The Prelude to the first Lute Suite in E Minor by Bach is just here because I like Bach’s lute pieces. So should you.

Lady Came From Baltimore by Scott Walker is as different from the opening track as you could get – a cover of a folk-pop song by Tim Hardin – but is still a lovely little track, overlooked in comparison to the darker stuff on Walker’s first few solo albums.

Arnaldo Said by the Wondermints is the only Wondermints track on Spotify at the moment, unfortunately. Weirdly, this is on an Os Mutantes tribute album, even though it’s a Wondermints original. But speaking of Mutantes…

Bat Macumba by Os Mutantes is my favourite track by Brazil’s greatest psychedelic band – not much of a song, but just listen to it as a *sound*, the way the totally different sonic environments are laid on each other…

Everyone Says I Love You by Janet Klein is a lovely little acoustic performance of the Marx Brothers song from Horse Feathers (and if I lent any of you my box set of Animal Crackers, Duck Soup, Horse Feathers and Monkey Business, could I have it back, please? I’ve completely forgotten who I lent it to…)

Wonderful/Song For Children by Rufus Wainwright is a stunning performance of the first half of the second movement of Smile, and shows that Smile wasn’t just a great record, but the songs were great songs. Wonderful, especially, deserves to be regarded as part of ‘the great American songbook’.

Send Me To The ‘Lectric Chair by Bessie Smith is another track by one of the all-time great blues singers, but to be honest I’ve included it for the horn playing.

And Over The Reef by Duncan Browne is a song I’m not even sure I like, but there’s something to it… it’s a very twee, folky thing which could smack of James Taylor, but there’s a sort of Incredible String Bandness about it that makes it work… I think… what do you think?

Anyway, I’m off til a week on Tuesday. Don’t turn this place into a tip while I’m gone…

Alumni Of Invention

Posted in music by Andrew Hickey on January 12, 2009

This post will be of absolutely no interest to at least 99% of the readers here – unless you’re far more interested in the music of Frank Zappa than is good for you, you might as well skip this post. I’m posting this because it’s one of those things that someone might stumble across in a year or two and be thankful for.

The death of Jimmy Carl Black, the original drummer with the Mothers of Invention, last month got me thinking about various gigs I’d seen him at over the years. I’d seen him as a guest vocalist with the Scouse band The Muffin Men on many occasions, but I particularly remembered him playing with The Grandmothers.

The Grand(e)mothers
is a name used by various line-ups of former members of The Mothers Of Invention. The current line-up has Don Preston, Roy Estrada and Napoleon Murphy Brock, but the line-up I saw in 1994 was Preston, Jimmy Carl Black and Bunk Gardner, along with guitarist/Zappa lookalike Sandra Oliva and bass player Ener Bladezipper (possibly not his real name). I decided to have a look on eMusic to see if there was anything by this band I could download as a belated souvenir. There was, but as so often happens I ended up downloading a ton of other stuff by ex-Zappa band members too, just because downloads on eMusic are so cheap. All the albums on this list probably cost me less than £10 in total.

So I’ve decided to provide a quick (and very non-exhaustive) guide to music by ex-Zappa-band-members available on eMusic.

The Grandmothers – Eating The Astoria
This is absolutely fantastic, surprisingly enough. This is a line-up of the Grandmothers similar to the one I saw live, except that by this point Jimmy Carl Black was only singing, no longer playing the drums, and Preston had left temporarily, leaving Bunk Gardner the only original instrumentalist on this.
Despite that, this is the album on this list it’s easiest for me to recommend. There are very few live recordings of the original Mothers Of Invention, and those there are are mostly very poor quality. By the time Zappa started recording his bands regularly, he was playing very different, slicker arrangements when he played these old 60s songs. So hearing these live performances of Peaches En Regalia, Oh No, Mr Green Genes and so on played in their original arrangements is about as close as we’ll ever come to a live album by the original Mothers with decent modern recording quality. Hearing this stuff with the excitement of a live performance but with very precise musicianship (and Bladezipper particularly is a wonderful bass player) is astounding.
There are a few originals on there, too. Oliva’s songs are Zappa-as-genre, and quite good of their type, while Jimmy Carl Black’s R&B numbers about the Trail Of Tears and the Great White Buffalo are worthy but unimpressive.

Don Preston is a more conflicted musician. Before joining the Mothers in 1966 he was a Proper Jazzman, playing with people like Elvin Jones and Al Jarreau, and since finally finishing with Zappa eight years later he’s been so associated with Zappa’s music that he’s never had the respect as a jazz musician he arguably deserves. As a result, he’s alternated between claiming that Zappa ripped his musicians off (a common claim of Zappa band alumni) and trying to make his own Zappaesque music, performing ‘tributes’ to Zappa, and trying to make his own unique music.

Vile Foamy Ectoplasm is a clear attempt to make a record that sounds a bit like Zappa. It’s a compilation of twenty years of Preston’s recordings, including duets with Bunk Gardner and performances with the Grandmothers, and it’s strictly Zappa-as-genre.

The bulk of the album is jazz fusion stuff with tons of semiquaver chromatic runs on the Moog, sounding like at any moment it’ll turn into either Inca Roads or Peaches En Regalia but never quite doing so, with a few percussion-and-electronic bits thrown in in the style of Varese. The whole thing’s clearly an attempt to say “I can make a Zappa album too”, but it never quite coheres properly. One can tell Preston’s exasperation at his old band’s legacy, from songs like The Eternal Question:

What was Zappa really like?
Did he fly into a rage?
I bet he smoked dope all the time
And did he really shit on the stage?

On the other hand, Transformation is startlingly good. A piano trio album, it contains an arrangement of The Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue but is otherwise Preston’s own work, in a more traditional bop style. Reminiscent at times of Cecil Taylor, it also has more mellow, melodic patches that sound almost like Dave Brubeck, and it’s an album I keep coming back to. A really nice jazz album – not groundbreaking, but fun.

So Yuh Don’t Like Modern Art by Banned From Utopia
is pointless.
Banned From Utopia are an 11-piece band, nine of whom were in Zappa’s last touring band in 1988 (and several of them had been with him much longer – the Fowler brothers off and on since the early 70s). Arthur Barrow, the bass-player, was also a longtime Zappa band member (none of the rest of the band liked Scott Thunes, the 1988 bass player).
This band were Zappa’s slickest, most ‘musicianly’ band, as can be heard on the Zappa live albums Best Band You Never Heard In Your Life, Broadway The Hard Way and Make A Jazz Noise Here. In terms of pure musicianship and discipline, they couldn’t be beaten.
Unfortunately, that means that the Zappa covers on this album are so close to the versions we already have by this band as to make it pointless, while the originals, including such tasteful songs as “Jailbait Babysitter”, are soulless hackwork.

The Phlorescent Leech & Eddie/Flo & Eddie by Flo & Eddie is a collection of the first two ‘solo’ albums by the former Turtles Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan. The first album, featuring almost all the 1971 lineup of the Mothers (including Preston, ex-Turtle Jim Pons, and drummer Aynsley Dunbar) is a classic of hippie folk-pop, very reminiscent of the better, later Turtles records. You can tell from songs like Goodbye Surprise that these people were also the backing vocalists on T-Rex’s hits, too. It’s recommended to anyone who likes light, funny, melodic late-60s/early 70s stuff like Nilsson, and is an album I’ve loved for years. The second album is patchier, a mix of comedy routines that they used to perform on stage with Zappa (“It’s the next illusion, you guessed it… the horrible sodomy trick!”) that have dated about as badly as Cheech & Chong, cover versions of 60s songs (including quite good versions of Days by the Kinks and Afterglow (Of Your Love) by the Small Faces, both of which were very obscure in the US at the time), and a gorgeous seven-minute orchestrated epic remake of the Turtles song Marmendy Hill. Worth downloading, but more for the first album than the second, and only if you already own Turtle Soup, Volman and Kaylan’s finest hour by far.

Sandy’s Album Is Here At Last by Sandy Hurvitz
is an album by someone who was in the Mothers for a few month in the mid-60s, produced by Zappa and Ian Underwood. An uninspiring attempt at a Joni Mitchell sound by a singer-songwriter who later changed her name to Esra Mohawk, all you really need to know is that she wrote True Colors for Cyndi Lauper. Oh, and it sounds like it’s been mastered off an old vinyl copy. Avoid.

There are many more Zappa-alumnus albums on eMusic (several George Duke albums I might get at some point, tons of albums of Jimmy Carl Black doing old R&B songs, Napoleon Murphy Brock albums) but I think I now have more Zappa-bandmember music than any reasonable person needs…

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