Volume 30 - Fall 2020

Welcome once again to music for the dark days, the dark age, the manifested and symbolic reality trip that is our demise---otherwise known as 2020. This month may be joyous for some and sad for others, but we can all agree it's some degree of terrible for all of us!

One thing I'm happy with is to reach my 30th volume! I'm pleased to commemorate this set's cover image from my now-growing matchbook collection. This was recently passed down from my parents. Out of the dozens upon dozens of books shipped from the remains of my South Jersey family home this had just the right look and, even better, was from a local joint. I don't think I was ever there once I turned drinking age. Nonetheless, the early '60s era look is as good as the name of the bar is lame. If anyone knows what the 1 and a half circle is about I'll light one of the matches for you in your honor.

This set came really quickly thanks to a slew of tunes pilfered from a site with a ton of posts of Ivan Ward sides. However, I was kinda, you know, distracted with 2020. Nonetheless, to get right to it, I'm handing out the sidemen-band-name-of-the-month contest winners tout suite to The Swingsters! Some of you may know their song Congo Glide on the Frolic Diner comp. That song was second to last on the CD and I always felt it would've been a great closer. The Swingsters have two sides here with Ivan Ward. Baby Sitter and The Clique. I like the latter particularly, as it evokes the same chug chug, melancholic feeling of Congo Glide. But, how about Cal & Ivan's Lazy Pt. 2? That song, despite being a clear Sleepwalk rip-off, is a great tune. Maybe they saved that blatant pilfer for the B-side, hoping no one would notice.

Betty Blue

Blue Star by Betty Turner begins with a solar explosion that alters the DNA in my heart every time I play it. I may just have to seek out this stellar gem on 45. It's Phil Spector's wall of sound as if it were built to surround my kingdom and never let me out--to live the rest of my life in solitude. I'm okay with that as long as I have this song in my heart. This article states it was recorded in a garage studio, but it sounds like the cavernous locale of a aircraft hangar. Amazing.

I'll take the aisle seat.

Next up, Holiday by Del Kent has the great introduction that's the strange surf equivalent of Denny's Quiet Village. Take me on that vacay anytime! Say the word and I'll gas mask-up, take a flight and meet you there. 

I'm please to state both our vocals in this set are women, both are about stars, and both of them make me weep. Magic Star has Margie Singleton giving us the vocal version of Joe Meek's classic. Be sure and check out the Omnibus podcast's show on the tragic Mr. Meek. The podcast is a favorite of mine, so I want to give it a plug. And it's about the end of the world, so it has to be worth mentioning here, no?

That's all for now, folks! I'm cutting it short because it's already overdue and my right hand is fakakta due to a pinch nerve. See you in 2021!

 Take a sip here

 

Volume 29 - Spring-Summer 2020

Once again, welcome one and all (or maybe just two or three, depending on how many folks really make it to this end of the internet). Here we are with another installment of tunes to lift your spirits, purge the viruses of your soul, and to raise your head and ears up high.

This set seems to have come together not far behind volume 28. However, I think I'd been sitting on volume 28 for a while before I had published it. At this point, volume 30--a milestone of kitsch, coolness, darkness and swingingness is nearly complete. It should definitely be out before the end of the world—depending on how many of you think mask wearing is for sissies.

I'm proud to announce this set is available for streaming on mixcloud! Yes, dear listeners, while I'm not dispensing with the old school (using this loosely, of course) method of downloading mp3 files, for those into the whole spotification thing, you can simply press play below as the world ends. My eschatological goal is to eventually publish all of the 28 other volumes on mixcloud, but the way things are going, who the hell knows. Check the volume 1 post and go from there.

Haven't seen you in some time...

This volume includes only one ripped song from my collection, which I'll get to later. Nonetheless, I am pleased to add another matchbook cover from my personal stash to this series. I scored it at an estate sale in San Francisco. I seem to have a glacially slow-growing matchbook collection, made easier by the fact I quit smoking back in March. Moby Dick's is apparently from Santa Barbara's Stearn's Wharf (where it still stands). My first time in Santa Barbara was in graduate school, about two years after transplanting to the Left Coast. At the time I was certainly seeking my own white whale, attending a Jungian institute for psychology. I battled many demons and many a tsunami of the psyche but I'll save that for another blog altogether.

Some classic-rockers-to-be have a hand in a few of the tunes on this collection, starting with Aurora by The Squires. This was an early band of the Old Man from Canada himself, Neil Young. Not sure what the surf was like on the coast of our Northern neighbor, but the spirit of the surf gods ran deep. So deep, you can hear it in dude's voice making sure we know the title of the song at its conclusion.

Later in the set, The Squires give us another smooth instro with The Sultan. And speaking of the Middle East, let's hop onto the Camel Train! We have two—count ‘em, two--Camel Trains. The first, by Fargo Wells is clearly immersing us into the aural delights of a caravan. Or is that the sound of a train engine powered by two humps? The second, by The Fortune Tellers, reminds me of some tracks from the Ernie Kovacs show, not that I was alive when it aired, but I know my kitsch history, folks. Or shall I say kitschtory? The dainty camels are moving more slowly at first, pick up speed, and eventually get to the oasis, which thankfully is the end of the song. (Clearly, I’m more fond of the first train.)

 

Who needs love when you have a pool?

Curson Terrace is from Mike and Tony. That’s Mike Nesmith, in his pre-Monkees days. The crowd sure loved him back then. Curson Terrace is a swanky area/property in the Hollywood Hills so there's lots to be happy about for rich white people.

Patty McCarthy’s melancholic ode, The Death of Love, hits the spot in this set. It gets to just the right place in the small, tender fissures of our torn hearts for us to take a moment and recognize how fragile we are.

I’m going to pair the next two because they are the juicy center of this volume. By juicy, I mean dripping with steamy sax blowing. Had by Steve Douglas is music to get lost by. By getting lost I mean being down and out. Out in the middle of Nowheresville. A dead beatnik lying in the gutter. You’ve been had. The whole world has screwed you over. (I can keep going with this, you see. Just look around.) The second growling brass is High Noon from Pearl Reaves with the Paul Farano Trio. It’s the modern Western transplanted to the dirty urban jungle. 

Frank Zappa lends his subversive hand to the Inebriated Surfer by the Hollywood Tornadoes. The flip of this found its way to Volume 3, with Moon Dawg.

Walkin' to Mother’s by Ray Anthony comes from my own collection. It was a recent find at an estate sale. This is on Anthony’s Like Wild LP. The record execs were really pushing hard for the young kids to ignore the white dude with the gyrating hips and focus their ears on the hep cats. Lynn Oliver’s tune Tribal Waltz is a similar story. It’s LP title is even more blatant, as it’s called Teen-Age Jazz. "Like, sell out, daddy-o!"

Finally we get to our sidemen-band-name-of-the-month contest to close out this volume of tunes. We only have two contestants, both vocals, where the backup singer might even be heard here: The Lavenders (with Robin Lee) doing their stroll song Walk Away and The Dreamers (with Jean Luk) singing You Are My Love with so much ache I have to give them the prize. I guess it’s really just Jean Luk screamin’ his heart out, but with a name like the Dreamers, I had to hand it to ‘em.

The pandemic rages on--along with a lot of other people raging. Stay safe, speak up and keep dreaming.

Spear the white whale here or listen down there 👇.

Volume 28 - Winter 2020

Welcome to the end of the world. For real this time! Let the music touch your face, your eyes, and your ears as we cross the threshold while everything perishes. Your soul will thank you for it when the clock strikes. Wash your hands, don't wash your hands. Nothing matters.

Nonetheless, I have some lovely tunes once more ripped from the interwebs and from new (old) vinyl of mine that I'm eager to share with you all. I hope you are enjoying the devastation while in isolation.

The matchbook image for this volume is a special one. It comes from Bimbo's 365 club in SF. I was fortunate to go for the first time late last year. Man, I could spend the next 365 days in that joint and think I was stuck in 1961, except a 1961 where no one smoked cigarettes. Despite nobody lighting up, they do provide packs of matches with this same image. However, for our vintage purposes I found a pleasing, original matte version for this collection. Bimbo's was also featured on one of the Las Vegas Grind CD covers and it had to be pointed out to me by a native after I had already been living in the Bay Area for some time.

Our first silver nugget to highlight is the ineffable Ballad of the Surf by Richie Allen. I've been trying to find this one out there for a while. There was a poor quality version on video, but a crisper version recently showed up. The 45 was not easy to find and any copies were beyond my means. Elegiac surf tunes are my favorite kind if you've learned anything from reading this blog, and this one serves its purpose. Allen vividly conjures the image of a tsunami slowly churning towards the land. The speck of a surfer sits atop of the aquatic mountain just moments before the destruction. Gotta love the finger cymbals and, of course, my truly heart-touching wordless vocals.

Before we go any further, maybe someone can give Bandido a drink? Bandido is not observing social distancing and thinks the bars are still open. Somebody tell Bandido to be like Clift.

Monty doing great in his self-quarantine.

Bermuda by Ray Sharpe is only one of two vocal songs in this volume. Let the lilting sounds bring you gently into the coming warm weather. Just don't mess with the coral. They're having a hard enough time as it is.

And now, ladies and gentlemen gather round for the big fight of sidemen-band-name-of-the-month! Let's get ready to Link Wraaaaay! We have a head to head this month: In the red corner we have The Illusions (with Marlow Stewart) doing their version of Earthquake which sounds nothing like the other Earthquake. And in the blue corner coming in at a cold 32 degrees we have The Sinkers (with Ronnie Rae) doing their take on the sultry vocal standard. This time, The Sinkers bring the temperature way down to freezer-burn the hell out of that fever!

Drum roll please...our winner is The Sinkers with Chills! How can I not select such a downer name for this downer of a blog? This may even be the first time a vocal song won the contest. The vocalist is irrelevant anyway since we're talking about the side band.

We have an unusual entry into our macabre omnibus of songs with a few tracks by Elmer Bernstein. They're from his score to the (until recently unknown to me) TV show, Staccato. My man Frankie Fink turned me on to these dark tales of a swinging detective played by John Cassavetes. Normally, I don't go too far into the crime jazz territory for these collections but I recently happened upon the vinyl soundtrack at a craft fair in San Francisco.

"I'll have the heart attack of the day."

The SF wax-slinger also had another 45 that I picked up called The Greasy Spoon by Hank Marr. This one was a nice discovery. It is the perfect music to picture yourself sliding into a booth, ordering a small stack a pancakes, a cup of black java, and a side of pulmonary heart disease.

Night comes: you find yourself walking after dark, along the empty asphalt. And when they see you coming they walk away, toward oncoming traffic to keep the 6 feet distance. You're lonely, your heart throbs and you wish for, long for love. Hear The Viscounts as the sax screams in aching desire: the sound of your soul crying out. Night for Love is the piece de resistance of this set. After hearing it I was compelled to find it in its truest, perfect, 7 inch form. And now I share it with you.

Finally, we close our entry with a nod to my pal Shankey, the Fink with the Farfisa. Although Wade Curtiss likes to spell it as Shankie, it was close enough to recall my former Viper. This sweet rockabilly instro comes from a Norton comp. I shelled out the 298 cents after hearing it on Little Danny's show. Throw some cold cash Norton's way. They deserve it and then some.

Thanks for listening, reading, breathing and living. This took a while to post even though we're a month into Spring, which means the next set might be close behind.

Best regards to everyone. Stay safe and stay away.

Sanitize your ears here

Volume 27 - Spring/Summer 2019

Here we go again folks. Once more into the dark nights, the abyss. Yes, I know it is summertime and the days are long, but the darkness will come. It always does.

I'm proud to tell you my vinyl continues to grow once again, after long years in the desert. I have a few more personal rips I've added to this set. [No flatulence jokes here.] The Cosmos in particular, shines out of my behind. This tune, from The Caterpillars appears to be a Don Ralke composition. His tunes have appeared on my earlier volumes. I have found other vinyl of his in the wild but it was mediocre Exotica. The guy sure knows how to arrange for some far out tunes though. The Dead Sea, which is the flip, goes far beyond any kind of exotic land into a boat ride on bumpy waters headed to darkness. It's dreary doo wop instrumental madness when the carousel goes round and round and off the rails.  

The Deacon - Part One by the Hackney Brothers is the story that finds you at the end of a very long bar. Sitting next to you is the Deacon with whom you share all of your tribulations and vicissitudes. Part 2 it's where you blacked out, so I don't included here.

After you hit the barroom floor your stupor leads you get you a one way ticket on the Down Bound Train. I can't tell if this song is anti-alcohol, born-again Christian, or utterly hedonistic. I'll tell you this much, it's filled to the chorus with doom and groove.

Frank Gay and The Gayblades (bringing us this dreary ditty) lead us right to the always exciting sidemen band name of the month contest. We have two other contenders against the 'blades. We have The Sheiks (with Paul Hopkins Jr.) playing Hypnotized Lady, which, when I listen to that song over and over again I begin to become easily suggestible. Also in the running are the U-Neeks (with Johnny Ray Gomez) and their fast and short instro, Romp Out, which proudly came from my vinyl collection. However, I must pin a ribbon on The Gayblades to give them their proper place in the pantheon of 45s here at the end of the Earth.

Hey Bartender is one more song to return us back to the local watering hole. This is, of course, before we take a ride on the downbound train. This is when are we still having fun. It's only after the fourth beer where things take a turn for the worse. In the meantime we'll have 1,2, & 3 glasses of beer with Jimmy "Boo Boo" Blazer and Geechie Hicks. Geechie is always a great name for any troubadour. (To jump eras and genres, be sure and check out the masterful elegiac dirge Last Kind Word Blues by Geeshie Wiley. You won't regret it. That is, unless it plunges you into a deep depression.)

Lonely Before Dawn by the Night People can almost go without words. It's a song tailor made for Instos to End the World By. It's a cousin to Link Wray's Rumble. However, this is at the end of the night after half of the rumble participants are either dead or dying. The sun will rise in the East.

And speaking of songs perfectly suited for this blog, Lost Bandit by the Crume Brothers is a flawless fit. Wordless vocals which, as you know folks, is a surefire ingredient to ensnare my imagination. Not only that, it has LOST in the title, is slow, slightly melancholic, and could easily be playing in your earbuds as the sun finally sets on humankind.

Where am I, and where are those da da dahs coming from?

I have to mention Rattler by Santo and Johnny. This was a find I never knew existed by the sleepwalkers thanks in whole to Office Naps. Little Danny is the supreme master when it comes to finding priceless gems cast into wax. Be sure and check out his live-streamed radio show Cool Blue Flame on WFMU. My catastrophic collection would barely exist without him.

Don't like the taste of green onions? How about a streaming bowl of Rice Pudding? Willene Barton and her Trio serves up a sweet and not bitter dish that just as delectable as Booker T. I sure hope that's Ms. B wailing on the tenor. I'll make room for dessert every night if it is.

I'm gonna cut this post short and serve up this savory set before it's Autumn. You've all been waiting patiently and this set has been in the can since March.

Get hot here!

Volume 26 - Winter 2019

Got a match?

It's time to light up, folks, and get lost in what used to be the darkest time of the year. This collection has been half started since before Santa time, and yet your trusty Bloodstone blogger waited until the literal last day of winter to get his stuff together to finish this draft. So, if there are funny bits about snow and the most wonderful time of the year just pretend it still is. Nontheless, the world is as dark as ever and we'll need all the luminosity and tobacco we gots!

This set has a very special treat--my first vinyl rip! King Bloodstone is no longer pretending to collect and share all this vinyl to the dying masses while actually just digitally pilfering them from cyberspace. I finally procured a turntable--my first in decades. I have Frankie Fink to thank for giving me an LP of his latest platter of doom surf (I just made up that genre). His gift was the impetus that led me to shell out for a trusty spinning platter. I'll reveal the little gem later on, as my belated Krampus gift to you, dear listener.

Let's enter the smoke shop, on our first blind date. What better place to get acquainted? Make sure to purchase the tobacco blend called Flea Español. It is not for the weak of heart. Burn this and surely you will be left with "Epic" scars on your fingers, lips and lungs. You'll leave the tobacconist and begin a Ghost Walk into the blackness of the evening. Bill Whittley and his Westernaires remind you that as great as the West is, it holds the dark, sad past of those who've walked before us. This ain't no laughing matter, buster! 

Let's pause for a moment and go ahead to award The Westernaires with the Sidemen Band Name of the Month Contest. They had close competition from The Rhythmaires (and Barbara) doing The Lizard but the ghost walks away with the prize!

Where's my hint of mint?

Your date then asks if you're Going Steady. You hear a wailing tenor and taunts from frat dudes with cardigans in your head. You are disoriented and can only think of a single thing--reaching for a Nat Sherman. Totem and taboo are precisely what is in that store you just left.

I generally try to track-list and write about the songs alphabetically, so I'm going to back up and touch upon the unique addition to our songs to end the world by. The Nite Caps were the ones to enrapture my soul back in the mid-'90s when I heard their version of Poinciana off the transcendent Frolic Diner comp. So, once I got a record player back in my life, my first purchase was to have the Nite Caps' 45 in my hands. I especially wanted to hear the flip side because it was not to be found anywhere on comps or on video--until now. And...yes, there's a reason it was never posted anywhere. It's not that good. But that's not my point including it here! It's not that bad either, so here's Comin' in on a Wing and a Prayer for all the world to hear and sin by.

Speaking of Frolic Diner, Got a Match? by The Daddy O's is a nice companion piece to The Moocher by The Lancers, which was also on my favorite comp. This one's a bit corny and the punch line is anticlimactic. You're telling me some cad bumming a light just gives up that easily? At any rate, I had to include it given my ongoing (and seemingly endless) matchbook covers used as the images for each volume. (If you go to youtube be sure and check out the comment in the video below by the daughter of Larry Smith, one of the Lancers.)

Google maps what have you done?!

Island in the Sky by Benny Banta is a beautiful tune to take us off this Earth and into the nether-sphere. Which leads us to our quartet of songs to get lost by. I collect these songs simply as I stumble upon them across the cyberwebs, some stick and I add them to the next set. It was fate that we get a foursome of Lost tracks. The first, in order, by Jerry Merritt and the Crowns (uh, maybe they should've won the sidemen band name, awarded by KING Bloodstone) is a delicious jangley guitar ditty. Johnny Bernero is mad, man! It's the drunken fever dream of Dean Moriarty once he awakens after a night of who-knows-what in you-know-where. Lost Horizon by The Countdowns is the sublime, luminous guitar surf ballad that I want played during the last moments OF Earth or my last moments ON Earth, whichever comes first. Finally, what better tune to end the fourpiece--Lost World by Holly Kristen and the Elmer Schalitz Orchestra. The electronic sounds you hear at the start is the mid-century interpretation of the singularity. Then my ultimate, the wordless vocals! That sound you hear is the angels calling you home to the next world--map and compass not included.
 
And speaking of other worlds, we have the hippest underworld as depicted by Mike Minor. Satan's Waitin' sounds like the dark one is such a swingin' red devil that I'd consider hanging with him--or her.

See you folks next time! I have more 100% genuine Bloodstone 45 rips coming soon (i.e. by October at this rate...).

This volume 26 is dedicated to two of the newly late and fantastic greats: Dick Dale (1937-2019) & Andre Williams (1936-2019). Dick, may you be riding the best wave into the next world, KING of the SURF GUITAR. Andre, you hold the memory of one of my absolute best live shows ever, with The Sadies somewhere in the Tenderloin in NYC somewhere in the '90s. May both of you rest while your music lives on endlessly.

Get lost here.

Volume 25 - Fall 2018

The hits just keep coming! Here we have another volume of marvelous music to drown by as the waters rise and the ice caps melt, turning our stiff, yet vibrant sea-water cocktails into lame, diluted soft drinks. Nonetheless, I raise a glass of this plastic filled cup of mermaid tears and wish everyone Happy All Hallows' Eve and a cold weather holiday season (that is, while the cold keeps coming). SALUD!

To continue along with the oceanic theme, we got a couple nice ones to start us off, including Atlantis by The Blue Bells. Let's hope the lost kingdom is discovered soon and perhaps we can all take some refuge there. If Atlantis doesn't give us a place for renewal, then Bermuda surely will. About as far from paradise as one can get, this instro is brought to you by a bunch of kids from Pennsylvania. Did the Vikings ever sail to Bermuda?

Bird Walk by The Victors is some kind of soundtrack to a suspense surf movie. When you add horns like this it's automatically an Oscar winner. I picture ex-Nazis on a fleet of surfboards in hot pursuit of our hero. Stuffed into his board shorts are the fascist blueprints for a colossal flightless robot bird to be unleashed upon the denizens of Wildwood, New Jersey.

"Honey, do you hear squawking?"

I, King Bloodstone, hereby declare that Hoppin' with Emily (by Dave Burgess and Dale Norris) now stands for Millennial slang to mean filled with anticipation AND vigor. I don't know who Emily is and I don't know if Dale and Dave even knew her, but if hoppin' with her sounds like way they make it sound then I'll vow to stay alive for another 40 years to make sure the phrase enters into the American vernacular. End of the world be damned!

Innersanctum is another one I'm ripping off from Kogar's Lux and Ivy's Favorites comp. It's too dark not to include in our film score to the end of the world. I'm feeling generous, so I'll go ahead and award the T-Towners (with Jim Wolfe) for the Sidemen Band Name of the Month Contest, not that they had much competition this time around.

Well, just in time for our favorite spooky holiday (although President's Day can be creepy) I have one tune to include on this set. Satan's Holiday by The Lancasters nicely adds to our ongoing satanic themed tunes. This one of course paying homage to Hall of the Mountain King. This melody is also ripped off by another devil worshiper, Diablito, on his sinister tune The Jungle, heard of course on Jungle Exotica. Wait a minute. Diablito...Satan's Holiday......some one ripped off more than Edvard Grieg.

As luck would have it we have another All Hallows' Eve themed song that we can pigeonhole into our seasonal set. Theme from the Black Cat by Scotty McKay's Bolero Band sounds like some demented, blackened version of Quiet Village. We've crossed the cat's path by now. Nuthin' left but bad mojo.

Al Rio nearly closes our set out by asking Why. He's singing about some lost babe of his, but we can all ask "why" these days.
Why now? Why must this be? Why did you do this, humanity?

Why not click below, folks?

Enter the infernal Plaza Lounge here and I'll see you inside...

Volume 24 - Summer 2018

Welcome to another slew of instrumental and vocal slop poached from the depths of the interwebs, like shrimp sucked from the sea bottom. All the reefs, flounder, and Sponge-Bob and his poor friends are fatally trawled down.

No cream. Just liver damage.

Nice dark image to start us off, no?. And speaking of murkiness, to begin the set: I'll take my java black, just how I like my death. Won't you join me for a cup? We'll sit at the counter, drinking it black and full of blues. And beat, man, beat. Carolyn Carpenter serves us Black Coffee. Don't even add sugar. Drink it down sip by sip, my dear listeners.

There are multiple great instrumentals (and vocal tunes) here--almost too many to mention by name. The first three colorful ones are all fabulous and worthy of a toast to the Big Sleep, and I don't mean the Bogey flick or the Chandler rag. For instance, Blue Castaway by The Shelltones is truly sublime and perfectly matched to this volume's cover--no pun intended. The guitar glistens, the tide takes us out to the ends of the seas, the pure, un-ozoned sun burns our skin, eyes and hearts.

"My other friends are all extinct!"

While we're far out on the salty waters, keep your eye out for the Creature from Under the Sea. Milton DeLugg spins up a swinging '60s salt water confection with some kind of silly, yet ominous guitar sound. Who knows what the hell that is making that noise! I've heard of wet reverb before, but Milton knows how to make it really drenching. Maybe the creature is a friendly ghoul, like Casper...or Sigmund.


Rusty Draper’s Devil of a Woman must be from Don’s brother. Unlike Don, Rusty was able to get in touch with his mother complex and process it through song. Still, the description of his gal could lead anyone to excessive amounts of drink the way that Rusty puts it.

So, every time I feel like I come upon a singularly spectacular song it turns out that Lavender Jungle already had it in their comp. Halvah, the sesame "sweetness from a land afar," is one of them. I decided to keep that song in here for posterity simply because the Middle Eastern instrumentalist Ganim and his Asia Minors were the maniacs responsible for Come with Me to the Casbah. Nonetheless, Lavender Jungle is one of the best comps in existence, and you should buy it digitally, physically, spiritually. It also has the fantastic zinger, Algiers by The Bambinos, which I poached for Volume 15.

I almost forgot about the Sidemen Band Name of the Month contest! I sure as hell wish the Mad Men of Note had a bandleader because they would have won hands down, cuz we're all nuts, except they are NOTABLY so! Alas, only two contenders this time 'round. The first is the Three Blazers (with Johnny Moore) doing Dragnet Blues. You had better know the Blazers from their searing rendition of Bullfrog (heard on the other best comp of all time, Frolic Diner) or you are to stop following this blog immediately. So the head to head between The Three Blazers, and...this month's winner: The Mercyaires (with Mel Ball). Give me a wordless vocal as they do, on I Remember, and you have me at la la la. Oh, mercy!

Isle of Love is so damn good the singer can only have one word to her name. Carmen, I will wait for you until you return. I will wait for eternity but I doubt that's even possible, given the the theme of this here blog. Make it fast, come back to me post haste! This song, along with many other fabulous ones in this set, reminds me of how Volume 12 came together. Beautiful combinations of vocals and instrumentals worthy of Twin Peaks season 7. Tell your friends if they only choose one or two of my selections, make it one of these. Carmen's dreamy song is one example to take you far away from the dreariness here in this modern day world.

Okay, so in the last entry I was gushing about my hippie parents' love lovey dovey, hippy-dippy stuff because of Nature Boy. Well this time in honor of the new women's movement we have Clete Grayson giving us the female version. Put on our fluffy shirts and purple velvet blazers and cut a rug to this swinging ode to Mother Nature's daughter.

Happy birthday, Mr. Oak

Hug a tree here and get Lyme disease! Enjoy the coolness of summer, folks. It's only hotter seasons going forward!