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This one goes out to RyGuy.

Your bodily functions will forever live on in our hearts.

Even the stinky ones.

Stinkyheart Memories.

Gross.

RIP buddy, see you at the big bagel in the sky.

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Click here to download Bodily Function in MP3 converted from vinyl LPs

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From the album cover:

Out of the blue of the western sky…comes SKY KING!

That’s the way it all started back in the late 1930s.

For more than 30 years Sky King was to be America’s flying cowboy, proving week after week, on radio and television, that law and order always wins out over bad and evil.

Sky King was introduced to the American public in the 1940s as a radio series. Young people and their older brothers and sisters and mothers and dads gathered around the radio set to listen to Sky and the familiar hum of his aircraft, The Songbird.

From the Flying Crown Ranch, Sky, his niece Penny and nephew Clipper flew the skies and rode the trails, chasing an assortment of kidnappers, bank robbers and other assorted criminals.

The series moved to television in 1952, with Derby Foods syndicating Sky King in various markets. Nabisco bought the show in 1955 and moved it to the CBS network, where it maintained a spot at the top of the ratings for children’s shows through 1967, when Sky King retired from the airways.

Sky King is currently being syndicated through television stations across the nation and to worldwide outlets with programming beginning in the fall of 1975. A new color television series is also on the drawing boards, along with a brand-new radio series that will soon be heard once again. Sky King has been America’s most popular and famous Flying Cowboy.

These recordings include the original advertisements for Peter Pan Peanut Butter, who was the sponsor for the radio program. Apparently Peter Pan Peanut Butter is guaranteed to make you an all-around kickass kid with huge muscles and killer clout. I’m fairly certain these spots were originally written as menthol cigarette ads. When you listen, consciously insert “Camel Menthol 100′s” in place of “Peter Pan Peanut Butter”…it’s beautiful. And makes you want a peanut butter & tobacco sandwich.

Check out these ads from the 50s. I particularly like how the second one extols the healthy benefits of delicious egg nog.

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Click to download MP3 adventures of the machine gun-toting Sky King

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Bonus! I love the mysterious love note on the album sleeve from SilverFox to SkyQueen

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Adorable

Within potato cannon range of San Francisco lies a mysterious city called Oakland. I know very little about this sparsely inhabited wasteland. Mostly what I hear comes from the empty mouths of shrunken old women at BART stations. They tell stories I wouldn’t believe in dreams.

From their tales I’ve gathered a few key pieces of information. Supposedly the low-lying areas are inhabited by an athletic tribe of raiders that frequently demolishes the city in response to the cruel conditions within the fiefdom. This active rebellion generally blossoms at the Foot Locker, where frothing marauders flood the storefront until the collective appetite is whetted with fresh pairs of pillaged Jordans.

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The women tell me that when these maniacs aren’t stealing mad hops they generally snooze and laze the days away in a bubble of malevolent California heat. From time to time they escape this fever to San Francisco in canoes fashioned from discarded Street Sheet newspapers. While in the city they practice the traditional Oaklandish religious rite of taking frothy red shits at the top of the Embarcadero Station escalator.

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There are other stories of which I’ve only heard in passing:

That the premium pumps at Oakland gas stations dispense a blinding blend of bum wine for two pents a gallon.

That women were outlawed within the the city during the 1970′s. Any of the fairer sex who mistakenly stumble past the outer boundaries are quickly captured, bound with fine silk strands secreted from the Oaklandish male’s prostate, and fed live to chomping Oaklandish larvae.

And that the people of Oakland still use Myspace.

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Adorable.

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But there’s a part of me that thinks all of these stories are simply fabrications to keep us gullible San Frannies out of a hidden paradise. If Oakland is populated solely by a pillaging, all-male, insect-hybrid mob then how did such a phenomenal lady-birthed album emerge from its murky depths? Had those hollow-faced women lied to me all along? Who’s controlling these hyphens? Where are my car keys?!

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Could it be that just across the frigid bay lies a city filled with brilliant artistic promise? A city of unparalleled beauty and personal freedom? Where the sidewalks glow, not dissimilar to the fashion of Billy Jean? Where people don’t rock rollerblades, unicycles, and Segways while listening to Maroon 5 on stock iPod headphones like it’s no big deal…because believe me it’s a huge fucking deal?

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One of these days, when I’m feeling particularly brave, I will hop in my much neglected automobile and drive across the big gray bitch that is the Bay Bridge. I’ll shift into fifth, crest through the fog, and the powerfully angelic voice of Merrill Garbus will blast my soul like Moroni’s trumpet. Within the city limits I’ll be stopped by a gang of breathtaking eunuch crossing guards who’ll fetch my spirit’s fleshy temple from the drivers side and hoist its bobbing limbs sunward. The pleasure of knowing absolute sound–sound so pure you could drink it, piss it, and drink it again–will truly be mine. And I’ll all have a good cry.

Because that’s what you do when enjoying a really happy surprise.

You cry.

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Click here to peep perhaps the best album of the year. And then purchase a copy of your own because this is a keeper.

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It needs to be pointed out that some portion of this album was recorded in Dolores Park in San Francisco. Where this happened.

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This album was released in 1960. The Mormons, or the Church of Jesus Chris of Latter-Day Saints, didn’t give black male members the power to bless their families, baptise their children, or marry in the temple until 1978. Yes, you read correctly, the Priesthood was withheld exclusively from men of African and Asian descent until 1978. Somehow the Mormon PR machine has done an incredible job of keeping their history of sanctioned racism under wraps, even while they have a candidate running for president.

So, in lamentation of this religion’s contemporary racism, here are the five worst racist quotes from LDS leaders and their segregation-of-the-soul soundtrack.

But first a little background. The Mormons, for 148 years, were hell-bent in the belief of the “Mark of Cain”. Basically, they believed that anyone with rich reserves of melatonin is a direct descendant of Cain, the world’s first murderer. Supposedly God turned Cain, along with every member of his direct lineage, black as punishment for his unforgivable sin. According to Mormons this sin, and skin, prohibited them from rejoicing fully in the fruits of God’s love.

Officially Mormons reversed their racist doctrine during the heyday of disco but this is one of those instances where you have to call no take backs.

Read more about this absurd doctrine here.

5) Apostle & Editor of Salt Lake City’s daily newspaper Deseret News – Mark E. Petersen

What would Jesus do?

Can we account in any other way for the birth of some children of God in darkest Africa, or flood-ridden China, or among the starving hordes in India, while some of the rest of us are born here in the United States? We cannot escape the conclusion that because of performance in our pre-existence some of us are born as Chinese, some as Japanese, some as Latter-day Saints. These are rewards and punishments…a Chinese, born in China with a dark skin, and with all the handicaps of that race seems to have little opportunity.

– Apostle Mark E. Petersen at the Convention of Teachers of Religion, BYU, Utah, August 27, 1954

4) Apostle & Utah State Representative –  George F. Richards

I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t preach racial hatred.

The Negro is an unfortunate man. He has been given a black skin. But that is as nothing compared with that greater handicap that he is not permitted to receive the Priesthood and the ordinances of the temple, necessary to prepare men and women to enter into and enjoy a fullness of glory in the celestial kingdom.”

-Apostle George F. Richards at General Conference, April 1939

3) Prophet, Father to 34 Children, & British Expatriate – John Taylor

He said something about loving one another, and growing beards…but definitely not neck beards.

After the flood we are told that the curse that had been pronounced upon Cain was continued through Ham’s wife, as he had married a wife of that seed. And why did it pass through the flood? Because it was necessary that the devil should have a representation upon the earth as well as God.

– Prophet John Taylor from Journal of Discourses Vol 22, pg. 305, August 28, 1881.

2) Prophet, First Governer of Utah, & namesake of the NCAA Basketball sweethearts BYU – Brigham Young

It’s hard to forget the past when said past is filled with such complete and utter dick moves.

“Shall I tell you the law of God in regard to the African Race? If the White man who belongs to the chosen seed mixes his blood with the seed of Cain, the penalty, under the law of God, is death on the spot. This will always be so.”

– Brigham Young from Journal of Discourses, pg. 109-110, March 8, 1863

1) Prophet & US Secretary of Agriculture – Ezra Taft Benson

Yep. Soak it all in.

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Click here to download Mormon Hymns at 320 kbps

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The music video at the bottom of this post, which is one of the best I’ve ever seen, is NSFW. In response, here’s a scene-for-scene transcript for those morally handcuffed by a 9 to 5. Enjoy.

The cosmos is all there is,

or ever was,

or ever will be.

The cosmos is also within us,

we are made of stars.

We are about to begin a journey through the cosmos,

through the story of our own planet,

and the plants and animals that share it with us.

It’s a story about us.

We wish to pursue the truth

no matter where it leads.

But to find the truth we need

imagination and skepticism first.

We are going to explore the cosmos

in the ship of imagination.

Perfect as a snowflake,

light as a feather.

The ship will take us to the world of dreams,

and worlds of facts.

Come with me.

  1. Pablo Díaz-Reixa loads a Golden Cassette into a skeet shooter, which he then launches like a glittering canary into the sunlit future valley.
  2. The Golden Cassette ends its fancy-free flight abrubtly against an urban curb. It’s retrieved by a girl equally as golden and twice as nude. She gingerly inserts the Golden Cassette into a Golden Boombox.
  3. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the sonic musings of a roadside bush.
  4. A mysterious man lifts an enormous rock.
  5. A young lady licks a forked tree branch against the sky.
  6. A dirtbike drives in circles around Pablo Díaz-Reixa while he records the buzz of its 2-stroke engine.
  7. A young lady leaps bottom-first into a supple sofa. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the union of keister and cushion.
  8. A seated schoolgirl hoists her peach-colored skirt to expose today’s quiz written upon her bare thigh.
  9. A young woman faces away from the camera. With the thumb and index of her left hand she displays an eyeball to the audience.
  10. A leather-banded, topless brunette shoots an arrow with the aid of a simple bow.
  11. Two women in white lace dresses relax in the shallows of a calm lake.
  12. A woman with large glasses. A mirror reflecting Pablo Díaz-Reixa shatters. The woman’s glasses show a compound fracture in the left lens.
  13. A women removes her blouse in front of a cheap oil painting featuring tumultuous seas. She’s handed two sparklers and proceeds to shake vigorously.
  14. A showering, smoking explosion occurs two meters above the floor of a dark forest clearing.
  15. A man in a black shirt portages a bolt-action rifle at a sprint into the depths of a refreshing cement pool.
  16. Two men with gigantic fluorescent bulbs swing at one another, causing their bulbs to shatter in fantastic fashion.
  17. A crowd of technicolor peasants marches solemnly in X-formation across a desert.
  18. A young lady with red fingernails creates bubbles in a tall glass of milk with a bendy straw. The creamy froth overflows upon her smooth thigh.
  19. A large black ball drops aggressively in a black bucket. Blue liquid violently erupts from its confines.
  20. A short-denimed woman passionately kisses a nobleman’s marble statue.
  21. A lace-bloused woman sensuously performs CPR upon a similar woman whilst half submerged on a shallow shore.
  22. A crystal ball succumbs a dark forest’s rolling fog.
  23. A manhand takes possession of a woman’s stockinged thigh.
  24. A manhand commandeers a woman’s gold anklet.
  25. A woman severs the hip of her white cotton panties with an intimidating hunting knife. The result is a spectacular display of flesh.
  26. A raven-haired, bespectacled lady sucks on another’s big toe.
  27. A ghastly white-faced, white-haired figure pirouettes on white rollerskates through a shadowy discotheque.
  28. A movie theatre crawls with of furries.
  29. Masked banditos abscond with a prized calico rabbit down the alley of a Spanish barrio.
  30. Topless revolucionarias discover Pablo Díaz-Reixa hiding in bushes and give him a swift kick in the ass.
  31. A redhead and sandy blonde flash commuters from the overpass of a major highway.
  32. Nude women don bandanas with true stick-em-up flair.
  33. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the mating of two chickens and one man on a queen-size bed.
  34. A wavy-haired tweezer falls victim to a chloroform assault.
  35. Potted flowers hold court on the edge of the racquet’s domain.
  36. Two topless women skim for pennies at the base of a small inland spring.
  37. A woman pursues what appears to be an infantile bull shark in waters it’d never call its own.
  38. An ancient candle long-melted upon and around a woman’s hand.
  39. A prudish woman lights her smoke with the flame of an eternal raven.
  40. Chickens that never were crash upon a maiden’s brow in ecstasy.
  41. Liquid blue flame dances harmlessly upon El Mano.
  42. A woman balances 14 towels precariously upon her left shoulder while lighting a cigarette. Towels tumble pathetically.
  43. Dr. Menendez instructs a blonde to perform the basic motor skills test of touching one’s left index finger to the tip of the nose.
  44. Pablo Díaz-Reixa swears an oath to a new age priest upon a paperback biography of Dutch soccer legend Johan Cruyff. The priest etches a single line upon Pablo Díaz-Reixa’s hand with a thick black marker.
  45. A leather-clad nomad pleads with invisible gods in a shallow, sandy billabong.
  46. A leather-caped woman runs from a dark hollow. She’s horrified to find a skull posted upon a tree at eye level.
  47. A trenchcoated woman sits with her head nestled sideways on a wooden table. Upon her temple rests a shallow saucer. A handled spoon enters, taking its share of the saucer’s creamy contents.
  48. Three women in white cotton dresses dance against he dying light of a setting sun.
  49. A brunette breathes in the light of a glowing crystal ball.
  50. A checkered-tweed hombre offers the seat of a red 10-speed to a mamasita in a short skirt, yellow scarf, and black stockings. As she mounts her metal steed her undies become the very intentional center of attention.
  51. An irregular polyhedron composed of straws sits oddly on a concrete floor.
  52. A hairbrush/mophead hybrid rests in juxtaposition with an aluminum tray filled with cigarette butts.
  53. Colored cotton balls on long, thin dowels protrude from a clump of silver tinsel.
  54. A man rides through an underpass on a beach cruiser at high speed. He is trailed by sparks.
  55. A 50/50 grind down the nose of a Crown Victoria taxi.
  56. A woman engulfed in blue forest smoke.
  57. In a darkened locker room a shirtless man shoots a stuffed panda in the head using a semiautomatic pistol.
  58. A skeleton emerges from beneath a bed to grab a woman’s ankle as she plants her foot on a thick rug.
  59. A large branch is struck against a calm lake surface, creating a shimmering rainbow spray.
  60. A pair of legs kicks wildly while trapped under an immense pile of laundry.
  61. A wall sprouts an arm that reaches aimlessly for a pair of audio samplers.
  62. A man extends his index finger wildly through his zipper to simulate a wiggling penis.
  63. A paper-bagged woman plays a piano.
  64. A back lot cowboy murders a white plywood box.
  65. Two women in white satin dresses attempt mutual homicide in a lake.
  66. Two nude women ride bicycles slowly away from the camera.
  67. Two women’s hair twists together to form a single French braid. The woman on the braid’s right tickles the woman on the left’s ear.
  68. A woman licks a forked branch once again.
  69. A man in white briefs stuffs a second pair of briefs down a vacuum hose. He then proceeds to stick the vacuum hose down his own briefs.
  70. A woman again smashes yet-to-be chickens on her brow.
  71. A man bent over a desk. Several books stacked upon the small of his back. Smooth, colorful stones placed in an oval near his mouth. Pablo Díaz-Reixa eats one of these stones with chopsticks.
  72. A man in a red long-sleeved shirt drowns beautifully.
  73. Pastel Klanswomen roam a dry, grassy hillside.
  74. A shirtless gladiator in black spandex thrusts his broadsword triumphantly toward the heavens.
  75. A beautiful nude Golden Girl fondles a Golden Cassette.

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Download The Album From Vinyl

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Tracklist 

A1 Bombay 3:39
A2 Novias 3:23
A3 Ghetto Fácil 2:44
A4 Soca Del Eclipse 4:10
A5 Lycra Mistral 3:49
B1 FM Tan Sexy 3:42
B2 Muerte Midi 3:47
B3 (Chica-Oh) Drims 3:39
B4 Danza Invinto 5:07

Play this at your party if you want Fun Fun, Fun Fun.

Click here to download Fun Fun

1. Bailo Bolero (Bolero Mix)9:20 with sexy vocals

2. Bailo Bolero (House Mix) 11:23 of sexy beats

This is the music that vagrants hear as they sit on the sidewalk barking wildly at some unseen specter. It’s not that they’re crazy. We’re all a little crazy–there’s no difference there between them and us on that front. It’s that they’ve had their circuits fried. Their motherboard, their cpu, their neuronet processor. Somewhere along the line some sort of liquid or cheeky solid passed through their epidermis, through the subcutaneous membrane, beyond the skull, and on into the grey maze. The result is that they constantly hear the purely synthesized whisperings of Matmos.

See, we’re all just a bunch of electrodes, diodes, and Didos. Any of us could wind up sitting on a city street wearing a large, fur-lined parka on a hot summer day eating a hot dog out of an Asics crosstrainer. We really could. All it would take is a faulty fire suppression system and the correct head tilt and poof, you’re trying to sell one-way subway tickets to men in Armani suits under direction from the Supreme Balloon.

Just look at these people. They were once law-abiding, God-fearing citizens that paid taxes on fairly nice houses. And they didn’t eat out of garbage cans while receiving auditory transmissions of over 17,000hz.

Take a look at Frank here.

Hey there, Frank.

He was once a respected firemen for Baltimore Engine #9. That is until he responded to a kitchen fire on Fleet Street shortly after lunch time on a clear summer day. The fire turned out to be nothing really, just a small grease deal he and the boys quickly subdued. Afterward, Frank and his crew took the time to unwind in the air-conditioned kitchen and hit on the sexy raven-haired mama who phoned in the emergency.

In the apartment next door two 9-year-olds, whose mothers were both out working minimum wage as baggers at Safeway, popped a can of WD-40 in the microwave on high for 10 minutes. They just wanted to see it dance, just like their previously tested compact disc of Drake’s “Thank Me Later” had, but their hypothesized effect couldn’t have been more wrong.

The resulting explosion vaporized the microwave, pulverized the wall separating the two apartments, and shot the WD-40’s red applicator straw, along with a good amount of the industrial lubricant itself, right down a tear duct on Frank’s unshielded face. It settled nicely between his two lumpy hemispheres without leaving a single outward indication of  injury.

He was never the same after that day but no one, especially Frank, could explain why. That little straw didn’t show up on any of the CATS, MRIs, or what-have-yous at John Hopkins. Everyone figured Frank just lost his nerve at the explosion, it rattled his cage, sent a screw loose.

But that WD-40, along with the applicator straw, went to work at crossing all sorts of wires through Franks brain, literally.  Now he spends his day wearing a Halloween fireman costume while spraying his hose into the orifices of any unlucky soul who happens to cross underneath the deadly 242-volt light post at the corner of W. Fayette & N. Hanover.

Despite the loss of family and friends, Frank still feels blessed thanks to the continuous loop of “Mister Mouth” that guides his conscience.

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Meet Muriel, former curator of French Culture at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Oh hi Muriel.

One night Muriel stayed particularly late reviewing and cataloging the new additions from the Fisher Collection. She’d spent all day on the phone with Jean-Paul Sartre regarding the works of Alexander Calder and had completely forgotten to take in lunch and dinner. A diabetic since early childhood, Muriel needed to get a quick snack to boost her blood sugar.

Unfortunately for Muriel, the café at the MOMA was closed and she found herself without any bills or change for the vending machine. She quickly locked up her office, grabbed her things, and disembarked at 11:13 with a very light head on a snack-finding mission.

However, at every corner store she came to the story was always the same—cash only and no ATM. At the fourth shop she, beginning to see dancing silver snowflakes on her periphery, even resorted to begging. The cashier took no pity on this Yves Saint Laurent-drenched bourgeoisie and sent her hiking.

Wandering without aim, Muriel eventually stumbled upon the Carl’s Jr. at Civic Center Plaza. She had barely teetered through the doorway when a large Oreo shake struck her upon the right temple, demolishing any balance left in her system. She took one good gallop to the left, countered hard to the right, and collapsed miserably like the Maginot line.  There she rested in a diabetic coma as the result of blunt sugar trauma.

The fast food brawl that produced the ballistic Oreo shake quickly subsided–it’s rumored that cashier Crystal Ruiz was messin’ around with Carl’s Jr. patron La-a Johnson’s baby daddy right out in the open. But Muriel remained on the floor for a good hour while hungry San Franciscans inelegantly clomped over her body to fetch Frisco Melts. During that time the runny Oreo slurry, packed with all types of supposedly manmade fillers, slowly filtered into Muriel’s ear. This unnatural goo ate through the drum, devoured the brain stem, and continued to engorge itself on the entirety of her cultured brain.

Now Muriel is known as Madam Tenderloin: Meat Pleaser of Knob Hill. She does her darnedest for man or beast in beat with the neverending intracranial soundtrack of “Les Folies Françaises.”

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>>>CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD SUPREME BALLOON FROM VINYL

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I’d never heard of Josh White until I bought this album. This only snuck into my collection because the cover jumped out at me and, at a single dollar, I couldn’t resist.  After reading the gatefold I feel that painting did a terrific job at capturing the man’s prodigious swagger.

Josh always had a great style, as a man and as a performer. He had a kind of imperiousness that used to make audiences shut up and listen. God, how he could stare an audience down! He was there to sing, and if people at the tables were talking, he’d hold a post, cigarette behind the ear, foot on the chair, guitar at the ready, and wait until his silence reached out like a living force and whammied the people to attention. Then he’d begin. He was a black man making his way in a white man’s world, he knew he had something everybody out to hear, and he was to be heard, on his own terms.

-Lee Hays & Don McClean

I’m going to do something I don’t know normally do and compose this post almost entirely of Wikipedia excerpts. Now, don’t click away just yet. This man’s story is immensely interesting and a true portrait of the (mostly losing) struggle for free speech in America. In these excerpts you’ll find Josh leading blind guitarists across the U.S. as a barefoot child, portraying Blind Lemon in the story of John Henry on Broadway, serenading the Roosevelts at the White House, and ultimately being blacklisted during the Red Scare.

Of course, in true blues fashion, the story ends with Josh White broken down, both in career and health, and in the grave before his time. He lived a hard life, made beautiful music, and is up there with Ray Charles, Johnny Cash, or any other musician who’s had his life turned into a feature-length film.

So, get comfortable, sit back, and breeze through the beautifully tragic life of Josh White and his sad, sad guitar.

Sorry, no song previews as of yet. Posting previews is getting more and more of a bitch because of electronic copy”right” protection.

Joshua Daniel White (February 11, 1914 – September 5, 1969), better known as Josh White, was an American singer, guitarist, songwriter, actor, and civil rights activist. He also recorded under the names “Pinewood Tom” and “Tippy Barton” in the 1930s.

White also became the closest African-American friend and confidant to president Franklin D. Roosevelt. However, White’s anti-segregationist and international human rights political stance presented in many of his recordings and in his speeches at rallies resulted in the right-wing McCarthyites assuming him a Communist. Accordingly, from 1947 through the mid 1960s, White became caught up in the anti-Communist Red Scare, and combined with the resulting attempt to clear his name, his career was damaged. White’s playing style influenced many future generations of guitarists, including Blind Boy Fuller, Brownie McGhee, Pete Seeger, Lena Horne, Nat King Cole, Harry Belafonte, Lonnie Donegan, Eartha Kitt, Alexis Korner, Odetta, Elvis Presley, The Kingston Trio, the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, Merle Travis, Dave Van Ronk, Peter, Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan, Eric Weissberg, Judy Collins, Mike Bloomfield, Danny Kalb, Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, Richie Havens, Don McLean, Roy Harper, Ry Cooder, John Fogerty, Eva Cassidy and Jack White.

Two months after his father’s death, Joshua left home with a blind, black street singer named Blind Man Arnold, who he had agreed to lead across the South to collect coins after performances. Arnold would then send White’s mother two dollars a week. Arnold soon realized that he could profit from this gifted boy who quickly learned to dance, sing, and play the tambourine. Over the next eight years, he rented the boy’s services out to 66 different blind street singers, including Blind Lemon Jefferson, Blind Blake, and Blind Joe Taggart, and in time young Joshua quickly mastered the varied guitar stylings all his blind masters. In order to appear sympathetic to the onlookers tossing coins, the old men kept Joshua shoeless and in ragged short pants till he was sixteen years old. At night he would have to sleep in the cotton fields or in the horse stables, often on an empty stomach, while his master slept in a black hotel.

In February of 1936, he punched his left hand through a glass door during a bar fight, and the hand became infected with gangrene. White was advised by doctors to amputate the hand, and White repeatedly refused. Amputation was averted, but his chording hand was left immobile. Afterwords, he retreated from his recording career to become a dock worker, an elevator operator, and a building superintendent. During the time when his hand was lame, he squeezed a small rubber ball to try and revive it.

One night during a card game, White’s left hand was revived completely; and he immediately began practicing his guitar, and soon put together a group called “Josh White & His Carolinians” with his brother Billy and close friends Carrington Lewis, Sam Gary, and Bayard Rustin. They soon began playing private parties in Harlem. At one of these parties, on New Year’s Eve 1938, Leonard DePaur, a Broadway choral director, was intrigued by Josh’s singing. For the past six months, DePaur and the producers of the Broadway musical in development, John Henry, had been searching America for an actor/singer/guitarist to play the lead role of Blind Lemon, a street minstrel who would wander back and forth across the stage narrating the story in song. Their initial auditions with native New York singers proved to be unsuccessful, so they looked through previous race record releases to find a suitable artist. They eventually narrowed their search down to two people, “Pinewood Tom” and “The Singing Christian”, both used as pseudonyms by White.

After months of rehearsals and out-of-town productions in Philadelphia and Boston, John Henry opened on Broadway on January 10, 1940, with Paul Robeson as John Henry and Joshua White as Blind Lemon. Although the musical did not have long run, it helped jumpstart his career. Soon thereafter, Josh began working with Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly, Burl Ives, and The Golden Gate Quartet in a CBS radio series Back Where I Come From, written by folk song collector Alan Lomax and directed by Nicholas Ray.

Josh and Libby frequently requested the War Department to send them overseas during World War II to give USO concert performances for the troops. However, despite a Letter of Recommendation from Eleanor Roosevelt, they were constantly rejected as “too controversial”, considering that the U.S. Armed Forces were still segregated throughout World War II.

Throughout the 1940s, as a major matinée idol with magnetic sexual charisma and a commanding stage presence, White not only was an international star of recordings, concerts, nightclubs, radio, film, and Broadway, he also achieved a unique position for an African-American of the segregated era by becoming accepted and befriended by white society, aristocracy, European royalty, and America’s ruling family, The Roosevelts.

In January 1941, Josh performed at the President’s Inauguration. Upon completing that first White House Command Performance, the Roosevelts invited White up to their private chambers, where they spent more than three hours talking about Josh’s life story of growing up in Jim Crow South, listening to his songs written about those experiences, and drinking Café Royale (coffee and brandy).

At one point during that evening, the President said to Josh, “You know Josh, when I first heard your song `Uncle Sam Says,’ I thought you were referring to me as Uncle Sam….Am I right?” White responded, “Yes Mr. President, I wrote that song to you after seeing how my brother was treated in the segregated section of Fort Dix army camp. . . However that wasn’t the first song I wrote to you. . . In 1933, I wrote and recorded a song called `Low Cotton,’ about the plight of Negro cotton pickers down South, and in the lyrics I made an appeal directly to you to help their situation.”

The President, interested and impressed at the candor of his response, then asked Josh to sing those songs to him again. A friendship developed, five more Command Performances would follow, in addition to two appearances at the Inaugurations of 1941 and 1945; and the Josh White family would spend many Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays with the Roosevelts at their Hyde Park, New York mansion .

Josh White had reached the zenith of his career when touring with Eleanor Roosevelt on a celebrated and triumphant Goodwill tour of Europe. He had been hosted by the continent’s prime ministers and royal families, and had just performed before 50,000 cheering fans at Stockholm’s soccer stadium. Amidst this tour, while in Paris in June, 1950, White received a call from Mary Chase, his manager in New York, telling him that Red Channels (who had been sending newsletters to the media since 1947 about White and other artists who they warned as being subversive), had just released and distributed a thick magazine with subversive details regarding 151 artists from the entertainment and media industries who they labeled as Communist Sympathizers. White’s name was prominent on this list. There never had been an official blacklist—until now. White immediately went to discuss the situation with Mrs. Roosevelt—to ask her advice and help. With great empathy, she told him that her voice on his behalf would hinder his efforts to clear his name. She explained that if she wasn’t the widow of the president they would also be crucifying her. She continued that the Right Wing press had been calling her a “pinko”, citing her social activism and friendships with non-whites. That night, White called his manager back and alerted her that he would be flying back to America the next day so that he could clear his name. Upon arriving at New York’s Idlewild Airport, the FBI met him, took him into a Customs holding room, began interrogating him, and held him for hours while waiting word from Washington as to whether Josh White, who was born in America, would be deported back to Europe.

In 1961, White’s health began a sharp decline as he experienced the first of the three heart attacks and the progressive heart disease that would plague him over his final eight years. As a lifelong smoker he also had progressive emphysema, in addition to ulcers, and severe psoriasis in his hands and calcium deficiency in his body that would cause the skin to peel off of his fingers and leave his fingernails broken and bleeding with every concert. During the last two years of his life, as his heart weakened dramatically, his wife Carol would put him in the hospital for four weeks after he completed each two-week concert tour. Finally, the doctors felt his only survival option was to attempt a new procedure to replace heart valves. The surgery failed.

He died on the operating table on September 6, 1969 at the North Shore Hospital in Manhasset, New York.

-Wikipedia

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>>>Click here to download Disc 1

>>>Click here to download Disc 2

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Tracklist

A1. Free and Equal Blues

A2. Where Were You, Baby

A3. You Don’t Know My Mind

A4. Sam Hall

A5. Run, Mona, Run

A6. Timber

A7. Takin’ Names

A8. St. James Infirmary

B1. One Meat Ball

B2. Peter

B3. Jelly, Jelly

B4. Jesus Gonna Make Up My Dyin’ Bed

B5.  Halleleu

B6. Prison Bound Blues

C1. Midnight Special

C2. Told My Captain

C3. Going Home, Boys

C4. Trouble

C5. Silicosis Blues

C6. Southern Exposure

C7. Empty Bed Blues

D1. The Story of John Henry

*Download  unavailable. YouTube embedding on WordPress disabled by copyright owners. Pick up a copy of this if you can get it for less than $12.

I picked this up a few weeks ago on Record Store Day at the very choice Explorist International, which is  a few blocks from my residence. Several other records made their way into my collection that day but this one is particularly fun. It caught my ear during a visit a few weeks earlier when the shopkeeper was playing it on the store’s soundsystem, and I wanted to buy it at that time. However, I was unemployed and couldn’t justify paying $17 for what I thought was the soundtrack to a French remake of the American Bonnie and Clyde film when I was worried that buying anything other than Safeway discount yogurt was a vulgar extravagance.

Luckily, a steady typing assignment came my way and now I’m hell bent on blowing my paychecks as soon as possible on LPs, EPs, BPs, 3CPOs, and a few rough DPs. This big daddy here is just a lot of fun. It’s goofy, it’s sexy, it’s corny, and above all it’s terribly catchy.

There’s no French version of the Bonnie & Clyde movie, this is just a song about the famously devious couple. In French. And while it doesn’t make much sense it really does work and twerk.

Here are three examples that display the clever little gimmicks which somehow pop completely and absolutely in every song on this album.


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Tracklist

A1 Brigitte Bardot et Serge Gainsbourg – Bonnie And Clyde

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Michel Colombier Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A2 Brigitte Bardot – Bubble Gum

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A3 Serge Gainsbourg – Comic Strip

Arranged By, Directed By – David Whitaker
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A4 Brigitte Bardot – Un Jour Comme Un Autre

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – G. Bourgeois*, J.-M. Rivière*

A5 Serge Gainsbourg – Pauvre Lola

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A6 Serge Gainsbourg – Du Film “L’eau À La Bouche”

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Alain Goraguer, Serge Gainsbourg

B1 Serge Gainsbourg – La Javanaise

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Harry Robinson Et Son Orchestre*
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

B2 Brigitte Bardot – La Madrague

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Claude Bolling Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – G. Bourgeois*, J.-M. Rivière*

B3 Serge Gainsbourg – Intoxicated Man

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre

Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

B4 Brigitte Bardot – Everybody Loves My Baby

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Claude Bolling Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Jack Palmer, Spencer Williams (2)

B5 Serge Gainsbourg – Baudelaire

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg
Lyrics By [Sur Un Poème De] – Ch. Baudelaire*

B6 Serge Gainsbourg – Docteur Jekyll And Mister Hyde

Directed By – Arthur Greenslade
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

I wish more than anything that Slim Whitman was my grandpa. His mustache, while somewhat sinister to the untrained eye, would have been a constant source of comfort. The scent of sun-heated Brylcreem would evoke memories of neighborhood baseball games. The feel of rough nylon garnering flashbacks of sweet Slim hugs.

Imagine a visit to Grandpa Slim’s house, if you will. You’re 7-years-old and visiting Grandpa Slim’s plantation house during an early summer in rural northern Florida, just far enough from the swamps and their pesky mosquitos but still clear from the ruckus of the interstate. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Grandpa because he’s been on an extended tour in England. They love him in England, almost as much as you do. Your ma says that’s where the Queen lives in her castle.

The morning starts with Grandpa Slim gently waking you by softly yodeling the intro to “Indian Love Call”. Him and Gramawmaw Rose Marie always refer to you as their little Geronimo, their little blue-eyed chief. Your room at the plantation is set up with cowboy and indian wallpaper, leather-tinted shag carpet, and a bunk bed that’s built to look like a trail-tested Conestoga wagon. The closet if full of white jeans and heavily embroidered, pearl-buttoned shirts.



The day starts as any other day would with Grandpa and Gramawmaw. Honey-cured bacon, jumbo eggs sunnyside up, buttermilk biscuits, grits with salted butter n’ sugar, white toast with blackberry jam, and buckwheat pancakes with pecan maple syrup that’s all washed down with a big, cold glass of whole milk. A growing boy needs a hearty breakfast to see him through a big day and there aren’t many days bigger than Founder’s Day. You’re gonna need energy if you’re going to win the potato sack race this year.

Grandpa Slim opens the Founder’s Day celebration with the most heavenly rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” the South’s ever heard. Even the town’s general store owner and self-proclaimed Jefferson Davis historian Jacob Pearson was seen wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Yes, this year’s festivities are just going to be magical. You can just feel it.

As with every year the day starts out with the Daughters Of The Confederacy’s Annual Swamp Sunflower Pageant. There’s no prizes or ribbons given for the most beautiful Swamp Sunflower because competition is unbecoming of a southern belle.  However, Gramawmaw Rose Marie assures you that if there did happen to be a judge on hand her batch of swamp sunflowers would give Miss Annabelle Johnson’s wilted abominations a thorough shellacking.

Pageant is followed shortly by Troop 334′s Soapbox Derby Race down Cutler Hill. You watch on with cripping jealousy as the older kids race at breakneck speeds down the county’s biggest incline. A boy from Grant Intermediate wins first place and you watch with hungry eyes as he’s presented with a trophy that’s almost as tall as you. Grandpa Slim musses your hair and gives you a wink. “Don’t worry, Geronimo. That’ll be you before you know it, as sure as I’m standing here. Your grandpa’s got some old racing tricks up his sleeve. Yes sir, some real whoppers.”

The hole left in your gut from watching some punk kid take your rightful trophy is soon filled by lunchtime’s smorgasbord of Southern cuisine. Hot dogs, hamburgers, pulled pork, brisket, fried chicken, and bar-b-que ribs serve as the stage up on which corned pudding, oyster stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potato souffle, and coleslaw dance into your quickly ballooning belly. Just as your intestines are about to bust a seam, Gramawmaw Rose Marie sets a heaping plate of banana fosters and apple pie in front of your widening eyes. These delicacies soon disappear down a baby-tooth lined hatch, followed shortly tidal wave of Royal Crown Cola.

After lunch you listen to a little guitar strumming, courtesy of Grandpa Slim. “It aids with the digestives,” he says. Grandpa Slim lays down a  hoppin’ little diddy, left-handed on his six-string acoustic. The missing fingers on his left hand, the fingers that  (according to your Uncle Billy) got cut off turning a steer into a cheeseburger, always freak you out a little bit, but in a good way way. He’s like Frankenstein a little bit and Frankenstein’s pretty cool.

A little digestion is just what you needed because, after all, who wants to run in the Founder’s Day potato sack race with a full tummy? Last year’s second place finish was truly heartbreaking because that cheater Jimmy Willard used a Yukon Gold potato sack. Rules state only Idaho potato bags are allowed in the competition, everyone knows that. But when you cried foul Jimmy had already switched out bags. You don’t know how he did it without the judges seeing but he did. The sly little grin he poured down on you from from his advantageous position on the podium will be forever burned in your memory.

This year, though, Jimmy won’t be a problem because Jimmy’s dead. He took an unfortunate fall off of the big slide down at Seminole Park at the end of last summer. Only thing is, nobody knows Jimmy took that spill, nobody except you and Grandpa Slim. After you pushed him as he summited the slide’s last step, something you did with that sly little grin blinding your better judgment, Grandpa Slim had been there to clean up the mess.

With the same shovel he used to dig the concrete foundation for your basketball hoop, Grandpa Slim to buried Jiimmy Willard beneath the big oak that supports your treehouse. It’s Grandpa Slim’s and your little secret. Now, every time you go out to play secret agent in the treehouse you say you’re “going out to play with Jimmy,” and you and Grandpa Slim always have a good laugh.

With Jimmy now feeding that big oak you’re sure to win the potato sack race. Cheaters never really win, Grandpa Slim always says.

He really is the best Grandpa in the whole wide world!

>>>Click here to download Grandpa Slim’s Very Best

Tracklist

A1 Indian Love Call
A2 Ramblin’ Rose
A3 My Happiness
A4 Room Full Of Roses
A5 Blue Eyes Cryin’ In The Rain
A6 When My Blue Moon Turns Gold Again
A7 Have I Told You Lately That I Love You
A8 There Goes My Everything
A9 My Heart Cries For You
A10 Let Me Call You Sweetheart
B1 Rose Marie
B2 Vaya Con Dios
B3 Roses Are Red
B4 Somewhere My Love
B5 I Love You Because
B6 Una Paloma Blanca
B7 I Can’t Stop Loving You
B8 Sail Along Silvery Moon
B9 You Belong To My Heart
B10 Red River Valley