Plastic Ono Band

Artist: Plastic Ono Band

LP: 7" single

Song: "Pavo Frio (Cold Turkey)"
[ listen ]

I was one of the last people out at door at Discos Revolver when they closed at 9pm, and then I began making my way down Calle de les Sitges, heading in the general direction of our apartment near the Filmoteca Catalunya. I'd only gone a few steps when the bright lights from inside Kebra Disc caught my eye. This little store hadn't been on my list! The place is only open in the evenings from 6:30-10pm, so it was fortunate that I passed by when I did. (Here's how to get there from Seattle.)

I found yet another handful of singles, but I ended up more with American and British rock and new wave records (Pat Benatar, Echo & the Bunnymen, The Cure, Nina Hagen Band) rather than the usual vintage Spanish releases I'd been finding most of the time. The owner of Kebra Disc is friendly and talkative and helped me dig up a few things I'd been looking for, including a 4AD single by Tanya Donelly. Most things already had prices on them, but a few did not, and the fellow there wanted to charge me an outrageous amount for a 1977 Grace Jones single (€20!) but I didn't bite. I found a copy at another store a week later for just €3 instead. 

One of the treasures I picked up at Kerba Disc is this Spanish release of Plastic Ono Band's 1969 single "Cold Turkey" (or, "Pavo Frio" en español). It's pretty torn up, taped up, scratchy, and all that, but still holds together well enough to be enjoyed. One of Plastic Ono Band's very first singles, released just after John Lennon had departed The Beatles, "Cold Turkey" went to #30 on the US singles charts and peaked at #14 in the UK. According to Wikipedia, in most cases the cover featured an X-ray of John Lennon on the front, with Yoko Ono's X-ray on the back...but "an alternative sleeve with the X-ray photographs of John and Yoko side by side, rather than on either side of the cover, was issued in several European countries." So it seems that Spain was one of those! 

The single features John Lennon on vocals, Eric Clapton on guitar, Klaus Voormann on bass, and Ringo Starr on drums. Though Yoko Ono doesn't provide vocals on this version (there are reportedly versions where she does), the influence of her particular brand of avant-garde performance artist circa 1969 makes a pretty strong appearance all the same.

 [ Plastic Ono Band ]

 [ Kebra Disc — Barcelona, Spain ]

Los Mismos

Artist: Los Mismos

LP: Los Mismos

Song: "Pasa El Tren"
[ listen ]
Song: "Esta La Cosa Negra Negra"
[ listen ]

After laying my body on the warm sand of the crowded but beautiful Barcelona beach with my friends Carrie and Charlie and their kids, Ollie and Gabe, on my first Saturday in town, we returned to the apartment to find my suitcase had finally been found and delivered! (Did I mention it got lost en route, after two late flights and two missed connections?) After slipping into fresh clothing, I set out for an area of the city where there was a cluster of record stores, near the intersection of Carrer dels Tallers and Carrer de les Sitges. Two of the stores, which looked on my map to be very close together, had similar names: Discos Revolver and Revolver Records. Sure enough, both stores actually do exist and seem somehow related (the share a similar logo), but I'm not exactly sure what's going on there. Maybe the result of a divorce? Anyhow, both stores closed at 9pm, so I only had time to visit one of them that evening. I picked Discos Revolver. 

The store has a modest entryway, but then additional rooms keep expanding back into the inside of the building, so there were actually quite a lot of records to look through. They even had a section of old Spanish LPs, so I picked up a few of those in addition to the usual stash of singles. One of the long plays is this 1969 album by Los Mismos, a trio consisting of Elena Vázquez Minguela (aka Helena Bianco, evidently), Antonio Pérez Gutiérrez, and Benjamín Santos Calonge. Together they make Spanish pop magic; you can read about them here. Lots of neat-looking Los Mismos singles can be found in the used record bins of Barcelona.

[ Los Mismos, pero son diferentes ahora ]

[ Discos Revolver — Barcelona, Spain ]

Las Chicas Del Un, Dos, Tres

Artist: Las Chicas Del Un, Dos, Tres

LP: 7" single

Song: "Un, Dos, Tres...Responda Otra Vez"
[ listen ]

I did finally make it to Vinil Vintage, also on Carrer de Ramón y Cajal. It's a good and messy little store with a lot of vintage vinil to dig through, but I only ended up leaving with seven singles and a copy of Throwing Muses' "The Real Ramona" LP on 4AD (CAD 1002), which was something I was hoping I'd find on my trip to Europe. Seven singles may sound like a lot, but I'd just picked up 25 at the previous store, so I hope you appreciate my exercise in self-control. 

When I saw the cover of this 1972 single by Las Chicas Del Un, Dos, Tres it hardly mattered that there was no listening station on which to give it a spin. I would have bought it with no record inside! These Chicas didn't actually form a music group, from what I can gather, but were actually contestants (or stewardesses?) on some sort of Spanish TV beauty pageant that ran in the '70s, '80s, '90s and 2000s. This single is from the premiere season of the show, and it was evidently N. Ibáñez Serrador who decided to set these lovely ladies to music. The girls were always easy to recognize by their huge glasses of pasta, and many of them went on to make a hole in the television star system. Actress Victoria Abril got her start as one of Las Chicas Del Un, Dos, Tres! You can read more about Las Chicas and their television show in an awkwardly translated online article here.

[ Las Chicas Del Un, Dos, Tres ]

[ Vinil Vintage — Barcelona, Spain ]

Formula V

Artist: Formula V

LP: 7" single

Song: "Loco, Casi Loco"
[ listen ]

After spending a couple of hours in awe while roaming in and around what I'm sure is one of the most magnificent churches on the planet... 

...with a guided audio tour provided by a lovely woman named Maria...

 

  
...I discovered my cell phone was dead from taking too many pictures. I figured "first things first," so I got some ice cream. I then set out with my photo-copied Google maps and no modern technological navigation device in hopes of making my way through a large and unfamiliar city to find some record stores. My maps weren't actually so bad, and I was able to locate Disco 100 on Carrer de l'Escovial. It's one of several record stores in the northern section of the city, near La Sagrada Familia.

[ Disco 100 — Barcelona, Spain ]

The thrill of finding this retail needle in an ancient haystack of a city was slightly diminished when it turned out they only sold new vinyl and CDs. Undaunted, I went in search of Carrer de Ramón y Cajal, the street a few blocks away where I hoped to find Vinil Vintage. A store with a name like that simply must sell used vinyl, right? I managed to find Ramón y Cajal, and as I strolled its narrow sidewalk, I passed by a small and neat-looking shop with some groovy music wafting through its open door. 

The place was called Novecento Música i Llibres and it's fantastic! Not only do they peddle Llibres, but they've got lots of bins of used Música too! By the time I finished rummaging, I ended up with a big stack of interesting-looking 45s (I tended to focus on singles on this trip, since they're easier to carry back on the plane and because if you end up with a dud you only have to suffer through two songs instead of twelve). The friendly proprietor offered to play records for me to help me reduce my risk. 

I was especially curious about a group called Formula V, since I'd found six singles by them there. They looked pretty nifty, but you never can be sure. I didn't want to buy all six and then have them end up sounding like The Everly Brothers, but I didn't want to buy only one and then later discover they're dynamite! Knowing me, I'd end up booking a flight back to Barcelona to pick up the other five.

The fellow at the store suddenly had to dash off to tend to a family emergency, but not before playing Formula V's "Loco, Casi Loco" for me, which immediately made me dump all six of the group's records into my 'must have' pile. It's Spanish '60s candy pop! (Though this single is actually from 1974.) I snatched up all other Formula V singles I found in the bins of Barcelona, and I think I ended up with nine. You can read a little about the group here and find their official website here.  

Formula V on YouTube:

[ "Ahora Sé Que Me Quieres" ]

 [ Novecento Música i Llibres — Barcelona, Spain ]

Mystic

Artist: Mystic

LP: 7" single

Song: "Disco Love Affair"
[ listen ]

The next morning I stopped in at Wah Wah Records, which turned out to be right next door to Discos Edison's, where I'd been the night before. Wah Wah is a terrific little shop packed to the gills with music. They've got an excellent selection of used disco-funk-R&B 45s, so I focused my attention there for the 90 minutes I had before heading out to my 2pm guided audio tour of La Sagrada Familia. 

I pulled quite a few gems out of their bins, including this "Disco Love Affair" from 1977. (What other type of love affair is there?) There's not much info about Mystic on the web, and Discogs shows only one other single from the group—a futuristic one also released in 1977. I evidently had the 'auto focus' feature turned off when I snapped my pics of Wah Wah, but you still get the idea.

[ Wah Wah Records — Barcelona, Spain ]

Henry Stephen

Artist: Henry Stephen

LP: 7" single

Song: "O Quizas Simplemente Le Regale Una Rosa"
[ listen ]

A week ago today I was in Barcelona, Spain! Some good friends had been invited to house-sit for some good friends of theirs at their L'Auberge Espagnole for the entire month of August. They, in turn, invited me to make my first pilgrimage to Spain to spend a few weeks with them. The trip was absolutely fantastic! And you bet I visited a bunch of record stores while I was there. 

The first one I checked out, on the evening of my arrival, was Discos Edison's. It's located just a few blocks from where I was staying in El Raval neighborhood of Barcelona. Edison's is a long and narrow store with lots of bins and piles of discos, way more than I was able to dig through in the 90 minutes before they closed. But I did find a couple of keepers, including this lovely 1969 single from Venezuelan singer Henry Stephen, who was once a member of Los Impala. You can read about him here. The cover of my copy features some sort of printing error, where one of the colors ended up slightly askew, giving it a 3D-without-wearing-the-proper-glasses appeal. I came across more copies of this same single at other stores and they had printed correctly, but that just made me feel like my copy was somehow special and unique.

[ Discos Edison's — Barcelona, Spain ]

Tab Hunter [1931-2018]

Artist: Tab Hunter

LP: Tab Hunter

Song: "But Beautiful"
[ listen ]
Song: "My Baby Just Cares For Me"
[ listen ]

His "only five singing lessons" may be fairly apparent when you listen to this 1958 LP, but still, there's something about Tab Hunter's voice that hits me like a bolt of scraped velvet. Or maybe more like a bolt of scraped Polyester. Tab certainly had an interesting life, moving from young heartthrob in the 1950s to senior gay activist with the release of his autobiography in 2005, in which he finally confirmed all the rumors. But what a career! He's probably the only actor ever to have starred in movies with both Linda Darnell and Divine! It was sad news to hear that Tab suddenly collapsed and died or cardiac arrest on Sunday, just a few days before his 87th birthday tomorrow. You can find his obituary in Vanity Fair here, and go here to read more about his life and career. I just learned that Jack Warner created Warner Bros. Records in 1958 partly just to keep Tab from releasing an album with Dot Records as a follow-up to "Young Love," his #1 hit single for that label, which was owned by Paramount. Fascinating!

I'm currently making my way through "The Great Movie Stars: The International Years" by David Shipman, so I'm including Shipman's write-up on Tab Hunter here, though it only covers up until 1980, when the revised edition was published. 

The Great Movie Stars: Tab Hunter

   Of all the pretty-boy teenage idols, Tab Hunter was probably the most appealing—by half an inch or so. He did at least have glimmerings of talent and might have gone further if he had kept his own name (Arthur Gelien) and not been landed with such a silly one. It might also have helped if he hadn't looked so much like a sugar candy-bar. 

   He was born in New York City in 1931. The family moved to Los Angeles, where he was schooled. He planned to be a professional ice-skater, but did various jobs—drug-store assistant, garage-attendant, cinema-usher, sheet-metal worker, packer. He had been interested in drama at school and "when one day"—went a studio biography—"somebody told him he ought to be in pictures, he decided to do something about it. He managed to get a very tiny role in a film." That was The Lawless (1950), but he was edited out on the cutting-room floor. He got himself an agent, Henry Willson, sponsor of some other handsome young male stars, like Rock Hudson, and Willson got him tested by director Stuart Heisler, who wanted an unknown to play opposite Linda Darnell in Saturday Island (1952). He got the part to qualified approval. Variety: "Hunter, as a young marine, displays a healthy torso, but not a great deal of talent." But he now had a toe inside the glamorous door and producer Edward Small signed him to a three-picture deal: Gun Belt (1953), a low-budget Western, as George Montgomery's brother; The Steel Lady, a low-budget war film with Rod Cameron; and Return to Treasure Island (1954), opposite Dawn Addams as Jamesina Hawkins, descendant of you-know-who. The latter pair were directed by E. A. Dupont, the famous German Silent director, now mainly functioning as a Hollywood agent.

   Warners signed him to a long-term contract. He played Robert Mitchum's younger brother in Track of the Cat, cowed at first but manly later. He was one of the male line-up with Van Heflin and Aldo Ray, in Battle Cry (1955), from Leon Uris's best-seller, as a nice young soldier in love with two girls (the one here and the one back home). That one was a big box-office hit, and Hunter was already a big noise in the fan magazines. After playing a German cadet (under John Wayne's command) in The Sea Chase, Warners decided to star him: The Burning Hills (1956), a western, and The Girl He Left Behind, miscast as a spoilt rich kid who resists discipline till he's broken in and becomes as tough a non-com as there is in this man's army. Natalie Wood was the girl in both: Warners saw them as a great new screen team, but no one else did.

   Things weren't good between Hunter and Warners. He had turned down a supporting role in the egregious Liberace Sincerely Yours, and was suspended for refusing Darby's Rangers, reportedly in revenge when Warners refused to release an album he had made (he had some brief success as a singer). On TV he did 'Fear Strikes Out' and 'Hans Brinker on the Silver Skates'; and in 1957 he made this statement, "I'm typical of where publicity is a zillion years ahead of career." Warners took him back and dressed him in uniform again, a member of the Lafayette Escadrille (1958), with Etchika Choureau, but this World War I drama wasn't a success. He was loaned out for a Western with Van Heflin, Gunman's Walk; and then was good in Damn Yankees, just the right side of obnoxious as the all-American youth—Faust as a baseball player—from a hit Broadway musical with the original cast (except for him). Despite much skill and the delicious virtuoso performance of Gwen Verdon, and good notices, it was a so-so hit in the US and a failure elsewhere. None of these films pleased Hunter much; his agent demanded better parts and better terms. According to Jack L. Warner's memoir, Hunter went down on bended knees asking for his release. He got it on payment of $100,000.

   Which only goes to prove you never know when you're well off. At first he did okay: he was a young GI seeking to take That Kind of Woman (1959) Sophia Loren from George Sanders, not knowing she was That Kind—only his heart didn't seem to be in the part. He was better in They Come to Cordura, supporting Gary Cooper and Heflin, as a meanie; and excellent in The Pleasure of His Company (1961), as a country boy bewildered by the prospect of losing bride Debbie Reynolds to the long-lost father who reappears at the wedding. In Italy he made La Freccia d'Oro/The Golden Arrow (1962), some Oriental claptrap with Rosanna Podesta, playing the head of a gang of thieves. In New York he appeared in Tennessee Williams's flop 'The Milk train Doesn't Stop Here Any More' with Hermoine Baddeley. All Hollywood offered was an AIP war movie, Operation Bikini (1963), supporting Frankie Avalon. In Ride the Wild Surf (1964) he supported Fabian; the British Troubled Waters never seems to have been shown; in The Loved One (1965) he was one of the stars in cameo roles, as a cemetery guide. Then he was in a British cheapie, City Under the Sea, supporting Vincent Price. Things didn't get better: he supported TV comic Soupy Sales in Birds Do It (1966). 

   In Spain he made a low-budget comedy-thriller for PRO, The Fickle Finger of Fate (1967). It occasioned this review in Variety: "Hunter is the major surprise, and his timing and momentum are mainly responsible for the film's fluid pace. More relaxed and charming than he's been for years, he seems to have conquered the stiffness he so awkwardly projected in his Warners contract days." He was in an A. C. Lyles Western, Hostile Guns, with George Montgomery, and was then inactive. On his way to Europe to make Quel Maledetto Ponte sull'Elba (1969)—as a veteran sergeant—he said this was the best time of his life: he wasn't under contract and could pick and choose his vehicles. Like La Porta del Cannone, a second Spanish-Italian war film, and A Kiss From Eddie (1971) with Isabel Jewell. Then he had a featured role in The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972) with Paul Newman, and he was rather good as a crook. He didn't film again till he did one of the cameos in Won Ton Ton the Dog Who Saved Hollywood (1976).

Tab Hunter

[ July 11, 1931 — July 8, 2018 ]

We will miss you, Tab.

Richard Swift [1977-2018]

Artist: Richard Swift

LP: 7" single

Song: "Artist & Repertoire"
[ listen ]

I first happened upon Richard Swift when I bought his 2003 "The Novelist" CD, sound unheard, at Easy Street Records in Lower Queen Anne, just because I liked the look of him on the cover. It turned out to be a terrific set of tunes and I instantly became a fan. That Easy Street Records is gone (replaced by a branch of Chase Bank), and now Richard Swift is gone too. He died earlier this week down in Tacoma, after being hospitalized for something or other in the middle of last month. So now the brilliant Mr. Swift is suddenly dead, and yet Jeff Sessions lives on forever. I'm telling ya, it's getting so that I just can't feel at home in this world anymore. You can read about Richard Swift here, visit his website here, and go here to find his obituary.

Richard Swift

[ March 16, 1977 — July 3, 2018 ]

We will miss you, Richard.

Bauhaus

Artist: Bauhaus

LP: 12" single

Song: "Telegram Sam"
[ listen ]

With the arrival in my mailbox yesterday of this 1980 Bauhaus 12" single from my new friend Philippe in Poitiers, France, my early-4AD catalog collection is complete! Originally a popular single released in 1972 by T-Rex, this Bauhaus version—catalogue no. AD 17(T)—was very popular with the people of New Zealand, going all the way to #12 on their charts.

[ Bauhaus ]

Randy Bell

Artist: Randy Bell

LP: 7" single

Song: "Don't Do Me"
[ listen ]

The instructions on the cover say to cut along the dotted yellow lines, and then you end up with a sexy mini-poster of singer Randy Bell exposing his hairy chest and torso, attractively tanned. You also end up with nowhere to properly store your record. (Using the modern miracle of Photoshop, I was able to create the sexy poster of Randy without cutting on dotted lines, see below.) The poster does seem decidedly at odds with the title of the song, especially as performed by someone called "Randy." Reverse psychology, perhaps? Randy Bell's "Don't Do Me" single peaked at #90 on the Billboard Hot 100 back in July of 1984. 

I found my copy at Bill's Records when I was in Dallas, Texas, for the AIRS conference last month. The single was mixed in among about a million others that were all scattered helter-skelter on the shelves at Bill's, not in neat little stacks as shown in the photo here. Bill had warned me when I first asked if he had any 45s: "Just be sure when you're looking at them that they don't slide off the shelves and onto the floor." The man doesn't know me, clearly. Of course I put them in neat stacks after I had sorted through them, partly so they would look neat and I could tell which ones I'd already sorted through, and partly because I was hoping Bill would notice and give me a discount for helping to organize his store.

Anyway, Bill showed me his shelves of 45s, gave me a chair, and I sat down and began sifting. I found some neat things, though nothing was priced. I'd arrived at around 9pm and the store closed at 10, but Bill said he was willing to stay if I was still shopping. Finally at 10:25pm I decided I'd better head back to the hotel so I'd be fresh for my early morning at the conference the next day. (I hadn't even made it through half of Bill's singles; I could have stayed 'til 10am.) I went to the counter and handed Bill the 20 singles I wanted and he counted them several times. There were 20 every time. While I was waiting, a portly young man with the strongest, cutest Texas-hick accent I've ever laid ears on came up to the counter to purchase a single record. (He said he had traveled to the big city from a small town about an hour away.) Since all Bill had done with my order so far was count my records three times, I suggested he ring this other fellow up before he continued helping me. 

Bill looked at the record the guy wanted, flipped it over, then noted, "Al B. Sure...and it's a promo 12" single, those are rare. It doesn't have a cover..." (it's true, the guy was buying a record in a plain white paper inner sleeve, with no cardboard outer cover. And the white paper sleeve was even bent at the corners!) "...how about ten dollars?" The rural Texas Al B. Sure fanatic handed over a $10 bill as my knees buckled and I fainted to the floor. If Bill was overcharging this poor fellow by $9.85 for some stupid Al B. Sure single with no cover, what would he want me to pay for my stack of 7" singles, all with picture sleeves? 

Well, I didn't find out for about another 45 minutes. Bill instead went on to discuss his dinner (his friend had gotten it for him from McDonald's), the history of his store (Echo & the Bunnymen once played there in the '80s!), the way his clothes fit (he prefers a looser fit), his long history in the record store business (he's had a store for years!), etc...all of which was fascinating, but none of which got me any closer to my bed at the hotel, with or without these 45s. I figured this must be the Texas way of doing business, so I just nodded and smiled, nodded and smiled. Bill finally did get around to naming a price, which he told me was a deal. I'm not even going to tell you what it was, but let's just say I made a counter offer, which was rejected. I even mentioned my straightening of the shelves, but to no avail. Bill pointed out that a few of the items I wanted were imports that were new when he'd obtained them, which I have to admit is true. Bill didn't want to lose money on them. But another thing that's true is that these valuable imports had been gathering dust, stuffed in among scuffed copies of Debbie Gibson, Carly Simon, and Huey Lewis 45s on his plywood shelves since the year 1990, so they probably should have been priced to move about 22 years ago. 

I then tried to negotiate by reducing the number of singles I was buying, but after I removed some from the pile (brand new Erasure imports from the late '80s) Bill began counting and re-counting the records again and I realized I was back to square one. I finally agreed to buy all 20 singles after talking Bill down from the absurd dollar amount he was asking to a slightly lower amount that was merely ridiculous. Anyway, I'd had such a weirdly wonderful visit during my extended time there, I figured I probably owed Bill at least a little bit of money for that.

My cell phone battery had died right when I got to Bill's Records, which is why I've had to borrow photos of Bill and his store from the web. Not only was I bummed that I had no means of snapping my own pictures there, but I also had no way of radioing a Lyft driver to get a trip back to my hotel. I was planning to walk. Bill wondered aloud if this was safe, since several police officers had been assassinated just down the street several months ago. He consulted with the friendly fellow who was taking the trash out from the bar next door, and they agreed that I should walk several blocks in a different direction to catch the train instead, since it would take me downtown and drop me near my destination. The trains were running until midnight, so I still had 25 minutes. I ended up back at the hotel just after midnight. 

If you're ever in Dallas and you collect vinyl, I definitely recommend you go to Bill's...after stopping by an ATM to withdraw way more money than you'd ever imagine you would need to buy a few records.

 [ Bill's Records — Dallas, Texas ]