Volume 21 - Fall 2017

Welcome to another batch of instros, heart-diseased vocals, and otherworldly, other-era-y music to take you away from the pits of darkness outside your door--if only for about the length of thirty songs.

If you were paying attention, this set is dated Fall 2017, which means these posts have finally caught up to my activity of culling tunes from the digital landscapes across the soon-to-be practically dead planet. As Mr. Anka wails, we'll be Crying in the Wind, but these are now category 5 hurricane gusts we're talking about.

Boo hoo!

If you are confused about why my catching up is important, go back to the beginning of these posts. What this really means is that my monthly missives will no longer be monthly. I'll release all subsequent volumes as they are completed. If this lousy world ends before the next set is done, don't say I didn't warn you it wasn't coming! Besides, these past 21 volumes contained plenty of songs to have calmed your anguished soul for the last 18 months. We have some good tunes here this time around. If this is to be my last, we'll die happy Earthlings.

Black Cat, by The Checkers, couldn't be a better way to start things off. It's slow, slinky, dim, and with horns. I don't have any specific Halloween themed songs in this set, but this certainly does the tricking and treating for the ears.

Don't ever call central casting again!

The Night Hawks follow up the misfortune with Bunny Ride. This one rolls and glides, like you're taking a Sunday ride and you're not exactly sure where you're headed. You may not even know when you get there, 'cause you may not be YOU anymore, dead or alive.

She definitely knows.

Luck be some ladies tonight! Can you hear them call out as you sit down to a game of five card stud at Jack Eubanks’ Casino? You can't quite tell though, if the ladies’ sirens are a warning, taunts, or signs of good fortune. Just place your bet and pray to the gods of Bicycle you'll come out even, at best.

If your luck ran out and you still have your wits, quickly sneak out to the train platform and catch a ride on the Chartreuse Caboose. The drinks car is in the back. The Starfires are the bartenders tonight, pouring some potent cocktails, so sip slowly. Or not. Whatever you choose to do, don't call them goddamn mixologists.

Time to move on to the Sidemen Band Name of the Month Contest. Our contenders for this round include The 7 Karats (with Billy Mure), The Bell Hops (with Porter, who or whatever the hell that is), The Thundertones (with Lenny), and The Cardinals (with St. John).

I heard The Cardinals’ song Rampage on Intoxica quite recently. In fact, the flip side is what really stood out for me. It's called The Rise. I couldn't find it however. When I do, they'll automatically win that round.

So, who's left? Well, Billy Mure gets enough love from the exotica fanatics, so he's out. The 7 Karats is a great moniker though. The prize goes to The Bell Hops! With their title, The ?, I couldn't pass it up. The question mark is bold, simple, and profound. It sums up the existential backbone of this entire blog.

This is turning out to be a long entry. I'd end it here, but there's a few more songs worth a mention. Namely, the two unique covers. Green Onions, by The Midgets, gets washed, sliced, and garnished. I wonder if the band genuinely had little people in the line up? Next is The Sundowners with a damn fine take on Rumble. Growling brass, a wall of sound, and shimmering guitars bring that monolith of a classic to its knees in the best way possible. Link was hopefully proud of this one, if he ever did hear it.

Halloween is around the corner, which means it's not too early for some Christmas creeping. Take a Sleigh Ride with Mr. Lloyd Glenn. Bring a scarf and fill your thermos with hot toddies. The darkness is coming, a little more each day. I don't think it's a global catastrophe, just seasonal.

Now, only 8 more lives left.

Finally, a rockabilly ditty a bit out of the norm for this blog, but like the last volume’s rocker about Doomsday, a Tornado can still be lethal. And that's what these collections are all about, right? The Jiants really sent me for a whirl when I first heard that opening riff. Eat your heart out Johnny Marr! This is how soon now is, man.

One final word about Two in the Morning. It's very rare I'll stay up this late but man, it's worth it. Especially if the gal from the matchbook cover is there. I think I know why they're called the Spooners Crowd. Wow!

That's it for now. If you miss me, continue to look for new posts on the WFMU Ichiban FB page.

SNAFU yourselves here!

Volume 20 - Summer 2017

Are you surviving the sweltering heat waves, summer downpours, hail, floods, and thunderstorms? If not, or if you barely are, then this here volume may be DJ Aloe Vera to your sanguine, precancerous skin.

We’ll start off straight away by pointing out there will be no Sidemen Band Name of the Month contest. There were almost no participants at all--just two. And these two were well known (or close enough) to not really qualify anyway: The Arrows (with Davie Allan) and The Hurricanes (with Johnny). It’d be like naming The Comets (with Bill Haley) as a winner. Let’s keep our fingers crossed for next month.

Black and Blue by the Gigolos may be another way to describe how your skin might be feeling right now. The original standard about race relations is done well here by the Gigolos, With a slow growing intensity, these fellas reach a climax at the right time for an instro, finishing in just two glorious minutes.

Ooga? translation: Gotta light?

For those on the paleo diet, put down your damn BBQ ribs and mutton chops and dig Cave Man by Richie Allen. Hey, man with no name, wearing the poncho, with squinty eyes, meet your neighbor, Fred Flintstone. And yes, wordless vocals means it's high noon.

Dawn, by The Keymen, while not the most extraordinary instro, sets the mood right to envision the end of a long, long night. It's already the next day, my dear. This one goes out to a close friend of mine. May their lighted days begin anew.

Devil Driver's Theme, by the Astronauts, is your film score to the ride of your life, or the end of it. Hop in the back seat. Fasten your seat belt (if there is one in that '50s jalopy death trap), clutch your rosary and hold it close to your chest. Don't let the beads get tangled with your safety belt. That would be ironic. Or maybe it would save your soul after all.

He didn't make it. To heaven.

Tommy Steele's Doomsday Rock would normally be too far in the rockabilly camp to be included in this collection. However, its thematic elements qualify for automatic inclusion. By the third break of day there'll be a big earthquake, then darkness--and not because of any solar eclipse. On that fifth day, after your morning cup of black, you'll know all is gone. Time to panic, y'all.

Let's finish out our quartet of "D" songs with Downstairs, by Plas Johnson. The saxologist extrsordinaire, heard blowin' on many things mid-century--Mancini's Pink Panther Theme is one we all know. I prefer his work with Les Baxter. Yes, Baxter did the exotic realm quite well, but when it comes to hard boiled noir vibes, you can't do better than his tootin' on Boomada. I'm not sure which came first, the single or Baxter's album, Teen Drums. I hope it's the former, because a cheap excuse to sell some slabs to the young, beat de-generation ain't so hip. Ya dig?

You've heard of the Christmas creep? The capitalist ploy to start X-Mas as early as possible? It's September, so why not some Halloween creeping? Baron Daemon (great, ghoulish name) gives us Ghost Guitars to start the festival of spirits right on time. Bouncing souls and twangy death knells means it's time to put on the make-up or mask and start haunting your neighbors. Pair this tune with Night Theme, by the Phantoms for a nice stroll down the avenues. Get a good look at your loved one, as she may be not what she seems.

I want to get back to our grand theme of the end of the world. Ozone, by the Chantays, helps to remind us that things are changing. Remember when a hole in our atmosphere was something to worry about? Sheesh, a gaping chasm in the center of the North American continent--about the size of Texas, Colorado, New Mex, and Oklahoma--is the equivalent of what we're now dealing with. Kind thoughts go out to those walloped by Mr. Hurricane Harvey.

Poinciana is a pleasant finish to describe this set. A standard from the era. The Vanguards lend an exotic slinky guitar touch to give us a sense of serenity and ease of mind. The Nite Caps' version is held forever in high esteem as the best version in my opinion. All others are icing on the cake. Make a wish and blow out the candles, creating a bit of darkness once again.

I was curiously surprised to learn The Nite Caps were indeed The Comets (sans Bill Haley). Cosmic justice gave us a Side Band Name of the Month Contest winner after all. Sort of.

Get cosmological here!

Volume 19 - Winter 2017

Greetings listeners. Welcome to the latest nastiness from Dog Hair Alley, a half block down the corner from Polar Fire and Main, here in the final beating heart of Instroville. Stroll deeper into the alleyway and you'll notice a grey door with a flame carved into the jamb and a Bob Dobbs sticker by the keyhole. Knock three times, whisper low, and tell them you were sent by Job. Then saddle up to the brass rail and Lonny will pour you one---100 proof to help with the 100 degree heat for the next 100 days and 100 years.

This set has some imbibe-themed instros, perfect to accompany your time on the barstool, in your final eves. Drink plenty of water throughout the night. Perhaps have a bite to eat so you're not getting tight on an empty stomach. -- Along with the instros are a handful of gloomy vocal tunes as a refreshing chaser. So when Lonny pours you a double you'll be the one pouring tears back into your empty glass.

"Keep 'em coming, Lon."

The first two vocal tracks about heartache, loss, pain (and more pain) should do the trick to get the water spigot turned all the way lefty-Lucy. Baby Boy by Willie Gibson is nearly straight up Soul, but it's dark enough for King Bloodstone's taste so we'll keep it in. Cheating on Your Mind by Bill Mack well, uh, speaks for itself. Finally, Dark Side of the Moon by Eddy Bailes and the Cadillacs is shadowy and great in so many ways, not the least of which because The Cadillacs nearly took the sidemen band name of the month contest trophy. 

Crawlin’ by The Untouchables is a great instro as it is, but Richie Mayo spreads the sleeze really thick to do it just right. A couple other covers pepper this set. Rumble by Jimmy Carroll is somewhat of a mixed inclusion. Is it really any good? I'll let OfficeNaps explain: "While his [J. Carroll's] 1958 read of Link Wray’s opus pales in comparison, there’s charm still in its minimalistic anemia." In other words, it still has enough of the driving pulse of the original buried within its pale veins. The other cover is, of course, Tequila. Compared to the blandness of Rumble, Eddie Platt at least makes sure the citrus is more tart and the salt is thickly caked. There'll be a double recommended dose of iron into your bloodstream tonight.

Another worthy instrumental is Hot Chile by Nat Kendrick and The Swans. This one could easily come straight out of the Las Vegas Grind comps, because it's got enough twang and bounce to make the booby twirlers go round and round. Jet Black by Dave Dacosta is another fun romp. Darkness with some tongue in cheek. But, biggest catch of all is The Beard by The Abstracts. This was my white frickin' whale, having heard it on Howie Pyro's show years and years ago. The Abstracts also have the equally delicious Gitchee Goomee heard on V. 14. It was while hunting for Beard blood, that I found that flip side.

I threw in a couple surf tunes, both with a spectre of death. The Surfaris give us a dirge moody enough to stiffen the wax on your Yater stick. The moon slices the dark swells against the horizon, washing over you unexpectedly to send you to Davy Jones’ locker. Tommy Dee will then pen a teener ballad to memorialize your poor lost soul at sea. -- Time for another round, Lonny!

Oh, the foreshadowing!

We have to go with The Reverbs (with Speedy) as the clear winner of the match for sidemen band name of the month. Depending on how your device organizes the track listing 100 Proof shows up as either the first or last track. It's a romper to either get the party started or to be the nightcap before you lay your head down down down.

Before we call it a night, let's have a final tipple of Vodka by Eddie Platt. It's clear spirits, so they say you won't likely get a hangover. The ashtray's not completely overflowing. Have one more smoke while you're at it. Did you drink enough water like I told you to do?

Let Lonny serve one up, here.

Bonus Anniversary Post! The Vipers: Philadelphia's one and only 3rd Wave Surf Band

It was 20 years ago today, Sgt. Viper taught the band to play surf & sleaze. I, Bloodstone, give a special treat to you, my people. Or, you might look at it as an executive order to make your ears bleed and your iTard © void its warranty.

In 1995 I permanently put down my bass guitar, forever burying my dreams of being a metal, new wave, or alt rock demi-god. I purchased a tenor sax off of craigslist (when the ads were still chiseled onto stone) from a man living next to a duck pond in South Jersey. One year later we started The Vipers. A year after that we drove down to Wilmington, NC and recorded at Baby Ace Studios--two decades ago this month. We almost lost our ride home--nearly losing a billiards bet against a red headed femme fatale--if it wasn't for Sado's final bank shot to save my Ford Granada.

The band formed after I had some lessons and learned to growl on my sax, Halsey B. Gone (then Sado Galaxochist, now Frankie Fink) was told to get behind the trap kit, and Lingo was handed a bass. Steve Martian (now Steve Delray) and Shankey were the only two to have held their instruments for more than a total of 1,000 hours. Soon enough we had a monthly gig at Silk City diner. Steve had the heavy licks and was the primary songwriter, from what I remember. Sado was the mad mastermind of AV (see video below), Shankey was the elderstatesman, Johnny was the local high school dropout, and I was the fez wearing emcee blowhard.

Seth Moody, a prison buddy of Shank's, had started a studio in NC and invited us to lay down some wet tracks. Baby Ace Studios was part tool shed and boudoir, replete with red lights and chain saws. We headed South in June of '97 and ran the tapes, invoking the spirit of Blue Velvet, early '60s bohemians, and crisp after dinner mints. Mr. Moody was later inspired to blow sax with the Deadly Lo-Fi, and more recently with Jack Oblivion in Nashville.

I was going to withhold some of these tracks for your mercy, but figured you might as well hear the full spectrum.  For example, the mix of Moog, Sun Ra and reverb on Space Traveler is one we likely played live only once and left it behind to die of entropy. The Vipers Theme is fun, as is the lead off track. We paid tribute to Del-Fi records (Mau Mau), Las Vegas Grind (Crazy Vibrations) and Frolic Diner (Man with the Golden Arm). Betty Boop would show what was to come, with Steve and Hals's rockabilly outfit, Full Blown Cherry. All in all the songs reflect the fun we had down in NC, despite the near death experience for two of us on a jetty that reached out to the dark Atlantic waters. We won't go into that.

By the time we arrived at recording our second CD, circa 1998, somewhere in a suburb of Philadelphia, the end was nigh. We were in full-on Let It Be mode. The spirit of North Carolina had drifted back to sea. One man was sleeping with another man's woman, the astral spectre of Donz haunted the recording studio. I recall having trouble with my embouchure and blowin' some pretty filthy sax lines--not pretty. Some sessions I didn't even show up to. That daily Faberge Egg habit of mine was also taking a mighty toll. Nonetheless, there are some good tracks, especially wallops like Cutthroat and The Strangler. And, my favorite genre--the surf ballad--gets a turn on Danger at High Tide.

Put the CD in before they're no longer manufactured, and enjoy.

Want more from CD artist, Matthew Kirscht?

Go out and buy some Wacky Packages!

 

Press Play Here.

Volume 18 - Fall 2016

Open cover before striking.

 My children. My dear subjects of fine instrumentals, take this volume. Put it in your phone, PC, Mac, or your iTard © and shut your eyes. May they serve you well.
No. Instead, stare at the cover of the lovely dancer. Then, close your eyes and dream of her burning.

This is the next set in our matchbook series. Technically, we've skipped a volume that can be found here. That one doesn't have a matchbook cover. It does have one giant babe, so that counts for something. While V.17 contained many tunes culled in 2012 (the supposed end), our new set here, from last Fall (2016), does have two instros that take old King Bloodstone further back in time. One as far back as the early days of the Internet. A time of hope, digital unity, and paid pornography.

[Note that I missed posting in June '17. Since then, Craig Baxter's site (the source of the matchbook covers) has gone down. I'll let you folks know of any changes.]

There be trouble ahead, D.C.

We'll start off with the lead track by Roy Montrell. If his version of a Mellow Saxophone is this madness, then I'd like to spend my last chaotic days on earth with him and his mates. We'll rip and rock it like Davy Crockett, king of the dying frontier.

But wait, this King has got to have at least one version of the Batman theme on these songs to light the bat signal by, or it's as if the (early to mid) ‘60s never existed. What band better to bring it on than the Bat Boys? Whomever the hell they were. Long dead by now, I can tell you that. Cheating Charlie, also by the Bat Boys, must be the theme to the Caped Crusader’s bastard nephew or former best friend. He’d be the kind of foe that was a rich billionaire and ran for presidency to control the world--based on lies, duplicity, and super-powered radiation doses of narcissism. [Addendum: RIP Mr. West]

Cheating Charlie cuts a concrete rug

 As if we are onto some narrative drama, we follow the Bat Boys with ESP, by The Weirdos. Let's pretend The Dark Knight takes his psychic bat-pills and is able to read the mind of his nemesis in order to save the day. Unfortunately all that Cheating Charlie was thinking was what his name would look like in tomorrow's papers.

Next in our story, you will find yourself among the sands of the Middle East. The Shah is ready to see you now. His Harem Bells are ringing. A good time to bone up on your Mideast foreign policy briefings. In other words read past page 1, or else the harem bells will ring for thee.

Our favorite instrumental guitarist, Johnny Fortune, gives us his version of It Ain't necessarily So. Mr. F. is the moderately known (and personal favorite) interpreter of Siboney. This of course is one of the most sublime and transcendent instrumentals of them all. Buddha bless you, Johnny.

Act 2. Boy loses girl. Man loses woman. Man loses man. Woman loses woman. Humanity loses everything. Lover's Lament by Ralph Ventsha & the Red Julian quartet is a fitting musical device to get the waterworks flowing. Cue: Revolt in the Fifth Dimension by Ray Ellis. My Spidey sense is tingling. That dame, or whomever, is not coming back.

Oh, how my head & heart aches, Mary Jane.

Your damsel is not in distress, she's an indentured servant. Time for her rescue, Mr. DeMille. Slave Girl, by Santo and Johnny is one of those early Internet songs I mentioned (the Spiderman cartoon song being the other). I can't quite recall when I found this nugget. It's been years, but the World Wide Web doth certainly giveth. It doth taketh away--our time, eyesight, our wasted lives browsing her endless screens.

No side-band-name of the month contest winner this month. Mel Taylor and the Magics is all you get this time round. Life is illusory.

Light ‘em up here.

Volume 16 - Spring 2016

Volume 16 kicks off our matchbook series. The cover images for this and the next several volumes are taken from the wonderful collection of Mr. Craig Baxter. He's a local artist, former DJ on Berkeley's KALX, and lastly, a phenomenal matchbook collector.

As we begin this series, I want to point out we are still trying to catch up to the present day of King Bloodstone's ongoing and endless quest for instrumental and murky vocals. Songs from the past to soothe the poor souls of our fading rock. The tunes I culled last year (2016) saw many fine catches, especially in the Spring, as V.16 is the third volume from that season alone. I intend to bring us up to date sometime this year so that a new blog post will reflect a present-day completed set of music.

And now to this volume.

We'll start off with the sidemen band name of the month contest. Many contenders fighting for the crown this time out. I want to note this title has to go to an exceptional song, not just any damn fancy name.

The Ambers (and Duke) serve up a saucy sax-laden dose of lava in your glass with Volcano. The drunken, psychobillogical guitar is there as warning that more than two servings per night may be detrimental to your health.

Not these Nocturnes

The next contestants are The Nocturnes (and Don) with a heat-wave blast of Summertime. Yes, there was a surf band of the same name, but we won't hold it against them. Plus, my meager research show the surf band to be a different combo than those with Don. This is not the best quality here, and I think it's playing at 41rpm, but it's one hell of a version nonetheless. I think the sibling Gershwin corpses are ringing their coffin bells when they hear this one. They want back out!

Finally, another standard from The Zodiacs (and Red Garrison). Haunting and seductive just as Taboo must be. The shimmering guitar and sultry sax work effectively dulls the pain.

Since we have three contenders I'd like to put this one up for a vote, dear readers. However, there appear to be only three or four of you out there reading this blog alarm judging by the "likes" when I post a new volume. [I'm looking at you, Miko, Frankie Fink, Mr. B. Gone, and Debbie D.!] And so, King Bloodstone shall make a decree: The Ambers have the win! I may have been partial to their royal bandleader.

OK. Back to the music to watch the shrinking barrier reefs by.

G'day and g'bye!

Lots of standards here, except The Irridescents make Bali Ha’i less South Pacific and a little more outer-frickin’-space. Please Mr. Kennedy, I don't want to go!

Black and Blue by The Gigolo’s is nearly as good as Satchmo does it. The song gets cut short to remind us all the end is nigh, and we'll be bruised all over when the time comes.

Our pair of "Jazz in…" tunes come courtesy of Office Naps. (At least one, I think.) Exotica and foreign lands were all the rage back in the mid-century. It seems that adding "jazz" into your landscape was legitimizing the beats, the Jet Setters, and United Airlines. Just make sure you have your plane ticket booked ahead of time. The skies, they ain't so friendly.

Watch it burn, folks.

Plenty of other fantastic instros. I can't mention them all. There are a handful of slow, melancholic dirges to draw you in like a butterfly to a solar flare, a swollen heart to a black hole. Be sure and keep that cover open while striking. What's else is there to lose?

Strike match here.

Volume 15 - Spring 2016

RIP Walter D. Shafer

Due to the death of the planet this blog will not be closed for the next four years (at minimum). 
Welcome to the next installment of music for your mayhem. Vol. 15 is ripe to send us over the edge with both hard and soothing foreign-y sounds to soften our hearts and ears as we land in Ragnarok.

There are no Nordic instros to be found here. Nor are there tall blondes. Nonetheless, seven sick tunes start us off by locking eyes with our minds. The vision is Middle Eastern, sad vocals, and surf darkness. A duo of exotic doozies begin the set by blasting us into the blank void. Algiers, by the Bambinos, takes us through a clouded looking glass, opaque from years of burned incense, tobacco, and petroleum. Arabian Camel Walk finds us parched of thirst and dying in the desert. Follow the horns, children!
(Side note: Algiers can be found on the lovely Lavender Jungle comp, but this one seems to be at a different, perhaps more accurate, 45 rpm speed.)

The Bash is a nice rip off of Peter Gunn, paying homage with a throbbing bass line while throwing in a slick guitar solo. You see, after the 10 o'clock news we can all get bashed tonight. Beat Girl will increase the bludgeoning to where you’ll wish you were disembodied from your aching head come next morning. This was originally composed for film by John Barry, the swank ‘60s tunester who gave us wonderful instros and melodies. My personal favorite is another dark and melancholic (what else) dirge called Saturday’s Child. Personally folks, if you ask King Bloodstone, we’re all Wednesday’s children these days. Full of woe. 

The fifth track, Bedlam speaks for itself---were f*#king living in it!

Then, Rodney Scott reminds us that we've nothing left, but to shed Bitter Tears. And batting clean-up in the septet of lifesaving instros are The Mali Bus--it's our fatal Uber ride to the end, in a Caravan from Malibu beach to the rising waters in Miami. 

Door Banger is another big favorite of King Bloodstone. A dark, dreamy surf bit. Ride the night swells lit by the raging, riotous fires on the Golden Gate. Not sure which came first, but The King Pins have a vocal version of this, first heard and smitten by yours truly on Romulus Records' sublime comp. The liner notes for 94 Second Surf on Surfer's Mood: "Jimi Hendrix wasn't the first guitarist to sing and 'follow the leads.' This is luxury, this is plush, THIS IS WEIRD!!! Who are those girls in the chorus (and verses), and what are they doing after the session..."
 
The DC5 gets our blood flowing, adrenaline pumping, and our nervous system primed for PTSD. “I’m a Chaquita banana and I’m here to say if you wanna kill the planet, here’s a brand new way…” Also, the Marc-Antonians will help out as well. Get ready for a dose of venom, straight from Cleopatra’s asp. It may alleviate that hangover. “Oh I say.”
 
We’ve got a clear winner for this month’s side-men band name contest - The Irrationals. Like King Bloodstone said earlier, things are *&^%$#@! The ratio is about 1 sane fella for every 12 nut jobs. Gene Sikora & his Irrational males had the crazy plan to start their own sovereign nation. [Oh jeeze.] Melancholy Boy is how we’ll all be feeling in the end, without love and without an Earth. Jack Hammer drives the point home figuratively and, you might say, literally.

Dig here until next time, people of Earth...

Volume 14 - Spring 2016

V14 goes all Eastern on ya!
We start off with one of two versions of Bamboo and Rice (one vocal, the other instro). I split them up by adjusting the title, so they wouldn't play back to back. Got hip to this moody tune from one of the sets by the Buzzsaw Joint team of fiends on Mixcloud. I forget which one, but I'll never forget my first bowl of rice.

A-Rab is a fine instro to follow Bill Osborn, and set us up for a dark, shimmering trek across the night desert sands. This may be the only "A-rab" you see or hear for the next four years, so treat it (them) gently.

Cha Cha Cha Au Harem by the Leo Clarens Orchestra has my fave la-la-lady singin' style, but throw in the Eastern horn and you've got me charmed to where I'll shimmy and shuffle as your cobra to your heart's content.

Lest we forget, the world's end IS nigh. Sopping wet reverb starts off Emy Jackson's Crying in a Storm. A deluge of tears, acid rain and spit fill the clouds, to pour down on our screaming Earth for 40 days and 40 nights. Better inflate that air mattress in the spare bedroom, grab one boy or one girl, a cat and dog, 'cause that's all the creatures the Great Bearded one has plans for. Bees, polar bears and bald eagles are on their way out anyhow. Get to know Echo Valley by The Marauders, while you're at it. It'll be a good tune to whistle when you drift out in the middle of the Pacific, headed for the Great Garbage Patch. 

Speaking of large bodies of water, Gitchee Goomee by The Abstracts is named after Lake Superior (spelled Gitche Gumee). I only found this fact when I scoured the interwebs looking for this fabulous instro. I can't recall which I heard first, this or the flipside (The Beard), but after Howie Pyro hipped me to both of these tracks, I searched for many many moons. So long was this hunt, I only recently found The Beard this winter. Look for it on volume 19...

One Love is generally too straight ahead of a Doo-Wop jawn for King Bloodstone to include, but (again, about flipsides) Jimmy Oliver's flipside is the ever-maniacal The Sneak. A classic, found on the Vegas Grind series that started it all for this fool. If someone can please tell me the origin of the suspenseful "sneaking melody" heard across many genres, I'll bequeath my kingdom to ya!

No sidemen band name of the month this time 'round, but we'll give a nod to the Music Men, with Dale McBride for trying their best to bring this volume back to its exotic start on Speak Low. Martin Denny, eat your heart out.

Noble "Thin Man" Watts gives us a wildly swingin' tune with Teen Scene that it almost gives me hope of a future for our little adolescents. Then again, a few tracks later, The Man with the Golden Arm, by Link Eddy, reminds us of the pitfalls, euphoria, and perils to be found in the poppy fields of the East.

Open your eye to Shiva here.

Volume 13 - Winter 2016

King Bloodstone will make this a quick post. A note about the photo. Somehow, Mancini's Experiment in Terror was included on this volume. Don't know why really. It's not exactly an obscure instro. I kept the cover pic, but removed the tune. The terror remains however. As 2017 inches forward, the end indeed seems nigh, so you'll need a double dose for the month. Monarch's orders.

And twice the meds you'll get! Namely, three pairs of 2-Part songs. There's Drum Twist parts 1 & 2--a rolling and rumbling instro to make Sandy Nelson proud, including the gentlemen at the end telling us what we just heard. We have Image 1 & 2, which is pretty sweet, swanky and swingin'. Hank Levine brought us the utterly fantastic Midnight on V. 1. He shows up later with the jazzy bounce of Swingin' Village. Finally, let's raise our tiny cups and "kampai!" to a double shot of Saki--and pretend it's spelled correctly.

Side-Band-Name of the month prize goes to The Hub Caps. As things fall apart it's expected to lose a few wheel covers along the way. Dorky sounds like they're already driving with a missing gear, or a missing guitar string.

Things descend into Madness as The Blue Lights hypnotically lure us into the dark corners of our skulls. By the time we reach both sides of the 45 from Cacique and his Tribe, we just don't know where they hell we are. Cacique and his pals sound like the beatnik brethren to Nervous Norvus. Spooky Doo b/w Don't Make Waves is some kind of early warning system designed to put goatees on our chins as some kind of totemic protection. We may need it against all the orange faces coming our way.

Enjoy, and as the outgoing Chief told us, "Good luck!"

Tico Tico here, Daddy-O!

Volume 12 - Fall 2015

Sit back. Take a ride. Watch the road recede. The night lengthens and when you press play and gaze above, you will see the stars have aligned for this set. The tunes on volume 12 are all absolutely stellar, many of them twinkling vocals.

I Was a Fool has my most cherished vocal style, the siren song. Wordless female strains, luring you home, to another home, your celestial death. Love's Dream and Flamingo are also sublime. But wait, V.12 has more--to knock you out! You'll surely awake all black and blue. Black Night by Cheryl Thomson starts like a twangy rendition of Taboo, but swiftly leads into a dark midnight. Tears rolling down your face will be the only thing your senses will detect. Blue Carnation by Dennis Roberts is another twanger to give solace to your busted, lonely heart. Sorry for the volume drop on this one. Just listen closely, turn it up, and pin the flower to your bare chest.

If you're ready to leave this place, to take flight, Comet by Les Jimmy Guitars will be a good one to throw into the rocket's audio system. Make sure to keep the stereo playing, because Link Wray's subsequent tune will propel you further into the cosmos. I first heard Cross Ties during my nascent days as an instromaniac on Ben Vaughn's juicy collection of cover songs. The bastard child of Philly and South Jersey helped point the way for Prince Bloodstone's journey into night.

 

Without a doubt, this month's side-band name prize goes to The High Tensions. Not only is it a great moniker for Instros to End the World By, but the song itself, Lost Horizon, is an exalted call out to the slow, surf dirges of The Lively Ones. Wandering by The Expressos first broke my brainwaves when I picked up the Surfer's Mood comp on the fab Dionysus label. My knowledge of surf is relatively dim, but a bit of research shows that The Expressos would eventually become The Lively Ones.

Cuban Jungle is a fine mix of Martin Denny, Yusef Lateef, and Sun Ra. I think of this inclusion as a short, but literal, shout out to Frankie Fink's cat calls, hoots and howls from our days in The Vipers. 2017 will be the 20th anniversary of The Vipers one and only release. Stay tuned to King Bloodstone's blog for a special post.

Some final notable vocals to send you to bed: Sleepwalk by Betsy Brye comes close to Santo & Johnny's original in soliciting ripples of somnambulism into your nightlife. Vocal renditions of well known instros are always a fun and surprising find. Check out the WFMU fan-made comp out there somewhere. Here is a taste from the defunct blog.

St. James Infirmary by Miss Johni Naylor is a glorious prayer to dying souls. Naylor's voice calls out from atop the mausoleums of New Orleans to all the greats that have covered this classic standard. Miss Naylor did the equally transcendent Red Wine for My Blues found on V. 1. Now that we know (nothing of) her story, "let's have another shot of booze."

If your tears are not watering down your drink by the end of this collection, then go back and replay Billy Ward and The Dominos. Bells is dug up from the oldies micro-genre: weeping and wailing doo-wop (e.g. Death of an Angel - see V. 9 or LAIF #1).

As a logistical note, I'm now averaging one post a month. V. 12 was culled back in 2015. I'm currently at volume 18, so we should finally catch up to the present sometime this year. May 2017 bring us there to End the World!

Ride the mortal tsunami here!