“My world is just that small,” as my wife would say.
A couple of Tuesdays back, I got a new job — a promotion, actually. Nothing too amazing there; getting it was the easy part. The tough part will be filling the position I just vacated. Unfortunately, I can’t hire myself, so I guess I’m kind of screwed. But what’s really odd is the same day I got the job, my old partners in crime got started on their second act as well. Now that they released their “comeback” album, they’re well on the way back into the hearts of guitar rock fans everywhere. Of course, I “declined to participate,” as the reviewers tell me. And it’s true. I can’t imagine giving up sleeping in my own bed every night — and even getting paid for the privilege (with benefits) — to go back on the road and work the same club circuit I played 20 years ago.
Continue reading ‘Your Favorite Little Podcast: Episode Six’
Tucson merchant Jack “The Color TV King” Fitzgerald carved out a name for himself back in the mid-70s with a series of distinctive late-night television commercials. Standing among a pile of teevee sets and packing crates, he would harangue the viewer with a pitch that always began with a simple, effective, “Hi folks…” You could easily pick up Tucson stations in Phoenix back then, so even my friends and I knew his spiel.
“Introducing The Ice Man’s Band” is an album of instrumentals by Jerry “The Ice Man” Butler’s rhythm section. Released in 1972, its selections range from Butler hits (“Never Give You Up,” “Mr. Dream Merchant,” “Only The Strong Survive”) to soul pop (“People Make The World Go Around,” “I Wanna Be Where You Are”), and a funky jam of the Beatles’ “Come Together” thrown in for the crossover crowd. Though not lacking in “country soul,” the simple, slick four-piece arrangements reveal a jazzy light touch reflective of The Ice Man’s mainstream appeal. The accent here is on sideman chops, with lots of tasty improvisation and extended solos. A group of female backup singers contribute “oohs,” “aahhs” and the occasional chorus. The cats in the band — Robert Bowles on guitar, Reginald Burke on keyboards, Wayne Douglas on bass and Ira Gates on drums — all went on to distinguished studio careers. In fact, you may even find them on many of your own albums from the seventies.
I met the editors of the Bay Area humor zine Breakfast Without Meat in the mid 80′s. Bonding commenced forthwith. We quickly determined that I must contribute to the magazine. Over the course of the next half a decade or so, I supplied them with comics, interviews, spot illustrations and other bits of nonsense. But these are my favorite contributions. Based on the old ad parodies in “Mad” magazine, my series purports to attack those shameless companies who would prey on the fragile sentiments and allegiances of the American consumer. Armed with nothing but a few leftover markers and access to my neighborhood Kinko’s, I launched a deft crusade against “the forces of unbridled consumerism” that could not be contained. That is, not until I lost interest (or the magazine ceased publication; I no longer remember which came first).
Just in time for America’s Independence Day, another great collection of “Love Workshop” recordings have fallen into my lap! My Mystery Benefactor had but one request: in exchange for a copy of his collection, I must agree to post it here, thus hopefully freeing him from ever having to make another copy again! I’ve pursued a similar strategy with rare Meat Puppets recordings over at Bostworld’s 