Page Ten - Boutique/ Colour Talk

Larry Page's men toot and tinkle their way through a Carnaby instro

Label: Decca

Year of Release: 1965

If you have a five pound note burning a hole in your wallet, the Larry Page Orchestra put out some fantastic easy listening arrangements of modern pop hits in the sixties, most of which are now very affordably available on CD. One such track, "Zabadak", eventually found its way on to the Reeves and Mortimer series "Bang Bang" as the perfect accompaniment to arguably one of their most surreal sketches. The rest of the LPO's work (let's call them that, nobody will get confused) is usually cocktail lounge sophistry of a relatively similar calibre.

Way before the budget was stretched to an orchestra and before the Page One label was a twinkle in Larry's eye, the ten-piece Page Ten group existed and their purpose was broadly similar. Their output was always meant to be more significant than this solitary 45, but both sides show a keenness to put a quality spin on the sunnier aspects of easy listening. "Boutique" is, as the name suggests, music to swing your handbag to while parading around the West End looking for threads, while "Colour Talk" is bit parts "University Challenge" theme and the sound you might hear in the background of a radio commercial seeking to appeal to hip young bachelors. 

In common with a lot of singles of this ilk, it sold unconvincingly; this kind of music always performed better when spread across twelve inches of 33rpm vinyl, selling favourably in department stores to people seeking dinner party backing music, not teens with Dansettes searching for three minute thrills. It hasn't even really been a footnote in Larry Page's career since and you'll be hard pressed to find anyone who has heard it, or acknowledges it, but that my dear friends is what "Left and to the Back" is here for. 

Roger Moore - Where Does Love Go/ Tomorrow After Tomorrow

Future James Bond tries his hand at romantic balladry

Label: CBS

Year of Release: 1965

An imaginary scene from "Stella Street": Michael Caine is standing on the Surbiton pavement outside, looking somewhat bewildered. "'Ere, I don't know if you've heard... but Roger Moore's recorded a single. Thinks he can use that voice of his to charm his way on to the wireless and into the hit parade. Between you and me, if you're thinking of nipping into town to buy it... DON'T BLOODY BOTHER! It's awful. He's already got 500 copies of it sitting in his shed, not a single bloody buyer for any of them, and Mrs Moore wants the space back for the Flymo".

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. By 1965, Roger Moore's acting career was already highly successful - though yet to reach its peak - with roles in films and series such as "Alfred Hitchcock Presents", "The Saint", "Mainly Millicent" (where he first played James Bond), "Maverick", "Ivanhoe" and "The Miracle". It was "The Saint" which first saw Moore's eyebrow-raising, deadpan style being used to maximum effect, which caused the hearts of numerous ladies to pound so hard that blouses and cardies were clutched tightly to chests across the United Kingdom.

Given his reputation as a heart-throb and the appeal of his "warm brown voice" (copyright Alan Partridge) it's not impossible to understand how he might have been asked to try his hand at recording a single. This rather dewy-eyed track was also recorded by the actor Charles Boyer and released the very same month to marginally more commercial success - it would appear it only narrowly missed out on an official chart placing - and Moore finished second in this particular horse race, leaving behind a single that's slightly harder to come by.

Still though, for once its obscurity is richly deserved. Moore's arch delivery could be a wonderful and highly effective dramatic and comedic tool on the big screen, but across a 45rpm single with romantic intentions, it's ill used. Moore sounds depressed, lethargic and weary throughout, narrating despondently, sounding as if a better gig was about to happen just round the corner in Soho and he had to hurry up and get this damn thing done before hot-footing it there. Problematically, it also feels possible to hear the moments his eyebrow is raised, which doesn't work in a song that's supposed to be about the death of a love affair, while the chocolate box arrangements plod behind him throughout. It manages to sound more ironic than a lot of the material from the nineties easy listening revival, which is an interesting achievement of sorts.

Tony Hatch and the Cherry Children - Yoko/ Bahama Sound

There's no-one quite like Yoko/ And I know you will agree...

Label: Pye

Year of Release: 1970

If popular perception is to be believed - and, in fact, if John Lennon himself is to be believed - Yoko Ono did not enjoy a particularly warm welcome in the UK after she met Beatle John. Indeed, that refrigerated reception dipped down further to chest freezer levels when she allegedly "broke up The Beatles" (who seemed to be doing an excellent job of drifting off in separate directions without her alleged influence anyway).

The fact this single exists is more than surprising, then - rather, it's outright shocking. Surely, a novelty single filled with children merrily chirping their love and happiness for Yoko would have stood absolutely no chance of being a hit? Most Beatles fans, who would have been the core target market, wouldn't have cared for it, and Yoko Ono's own fans - at this point, either modern art enthusiasts or some of the hairier lovers of her peace protests and avant-garde pieces of "difficult listening" on Lennon flipsides - weren't going to buy a novelty record inspired by her. It sank into oblivion, and it's hard to understand how anyone thought it would do anything else. 

Musically, it's a sweet little concoction which is too innocent lyrically and well-arranged to be irritating, and while you probably won't rush to put it on your digital playlist, it's a fun few minutes. I'm glad it exists, and I only hope Yoko Ono heard it and it raised a smile with her too.

Chamber Pop Ensemble - Walk Away Renee/ 59th Street Bridge Song

Two obscure and prim, buttoned-up takes on American sixties pop

Label: Decca

Year of Release: 1968

Back in 1968, the producer Irving Martin had the brainwave of gathering a collection of current tunes noted for their "strong melodic content" and arranging them for a small chamber orchestra. Among the sounds he singled out for attention were the likes of "Reach Out I'll Be There", "Up Up And Away" and "You've Lost That Loving Feeling", all of which seem like good choices. Also selected were "Satisfaction" and "I Was Kasier Bill's Batman" which, for different reasons, beg a few questions.

The LP slipped out that year without much press or public attention, presumably attracting neither the pop kids nor their easy listening Mums and Dads when I suspect it was meant to pull in both. More unexpected still was the solitary single launched from the platter, this sweet and subdued take on "Walk Away Renee" - a song so choicely and gently arranged in the first place you have to wonder if it ever needed this treatment.

Offered With Very Little Comment #6 - Dora Hall, Dick James, Afro Akino, Tony Hatch, Chamber of Kommerce

Five 45s from the back of the box

Once again, readers, it's time to delve deep into the dusty crevices of my 45 collection and focus on a load of weird and occasionally wonderful cuts.

As usual, I've uploaded these en masse purely because I've ummed and ahhed over the contents of the recordings and researched the groups in question and can't really think of much to say beyond the observations you see below. Sometimes less is more (and anyway, you didn't seriously expect me to write a sixth Dora Hall blog entry, did you? I really don't want any of my friends to feel they need to stage an intervention).

If any of you feel you want to discuss the contents in more depth or highlight something I might not know, feel free to comment away.

(And remember, readers - simply refresh the page if Box is deciding to be an arse today).

The Ray MacVay Sound - Kinda Kinky/ Kinkdom Kome

Swinging Kinks Tribute from Larry Page and raving Ray MacVay

Label: Pye

Year of Release: 1965

This is a baffling but very sought-after single from the prolific easy listening master Ray MacVay, who we last mentioned just over a year ago. Ray was perhaps more daring than many pseudo-James Last characters in the work he took on, attempting reggae, rock and country as well as the pop tunes that loaned themselves best to a nice and easy arrangement. 

This, however, appears to be a Kinks kash-in. While the repetitive central riff on side A does owe a small debt to Ray and Dave Davies, the band don't get a songwriting credit, and it seems that MacVay and Larry Page - who does get credited - were just using their sound as a springboard.

The end result sounds like a cross between a late night chat show theme and The Kinks, which is no bad thing. Indeed, I'm slightly surprised nobody has dug this one up to use on a television programme at any point in the last fifty years. It's also found some favour as a turntable hit with the mod club crowd, which has pushed up the asking price of copies over the years. 

Offered With Very Little Comment #4 - The Whales, Nick and Nichola, Laura, Sheila Scot

Some regular readers will be aware of the fact that from time to time, I throw a whole batch of singles up on to this blog in one swoop while writing very little about them.


This is usually for one of a few very simple reasons:

• I know virtually nothing about the artist(s) in question
• I have very little to say about the music
• The record in question didn't really seem to me to warrant a lot of dissection. Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes things just are what they are. 

So then, with no apologies offered for the lack of background reading, and with no expectations raised, please see the latest batch behind the link. Some of these are really very obscure and there's a chance you'll have been keeping one eye open for a copy.

Introducing The Exciting Stereo Sound Of Franck Pourcel (EP)

Whizzing, squealing analogue synths meet Easy Listening 

Label: Columbia
Year of Release: 1967

This EP has been causing a bit of fuss online of late, primarily for featuring one of the most unexpectedly strange cover versions in Easy Listening land. That track, the squealing, oscillating, analogue synth infested cover of "Days of Pearly Spencer", is indeed an exciting stereo sound - like something you would hear at a firework party while drunk on scrumpy and high on LSD simultaneously, or the sort of noise Number 6 might have heard at a cocktail party in "The Prisoner" at which he was injected with something that made him a bit woozy. This, folks, shows just how weird even the most middle-of-the-road offerings could be in the late sixties.

While "Pearly Spencer" here is clearly intended to demonstrate the wonders of music heard through a good stereo system, with its ambitious arrangement and hi-tech (for the time) instrumentation, the rest of this EP is comparatively run-of-the-mill in terms of its ambition. Pourcel's attention to detail with the arrangements is wonderful, but they won't slap you in the face with quite the same force as the first track.

The Musicians - Jaunty Joe/ The Chelsea Set

Two sixties instros perfect for swinging your shopping bags down Carnaby Street to.

Label: King

Year of Release: 1967

A lot of easy listening tinged sixties instrumental singles are awfully uncollectible these days, and none more so than the slices of perkiness that soundtracked the later part of the decade. There are few British sixties youth films you can watch without hearing jaunty melodies and women singing "oo-doobe-doobe-doo!" in the background, but we have a tendency to consider these as rather kitsch tunes these days, not something we would willingly listen to of our own volition. They may have had a bit of a second wind in the mid-nineties (thanks to Mike Flowers) but since then, they've dipped back below the horizon again.

That's a shame, because I actually love this stuff. Cheery and bubbly without scrimping on the quality, there's an infectious charm and joy about them. They do sound like the soundtrack to every ageing bachelor's cocktail party, but there are far worse things in life to accompany than booze, fun and frivolity. 

"Jaunty Joe" is credited to a band called The Musicians, but like so many tracks of this ilk, I doubt the group were anything more than a studio entity. With a honking brass and a insistent hook, and a careful arrangement, it's a nice listen. "Jaunty Joe" was also released by the Ray McVay Orchestra to slightly more success, but this version sounds a bit rawer, a tiny bit more mod (though these things are all relative). It does sound like the lost theme tune to a seventies sit-com, and indeed somebody missed a trick by not using it as one. 

The flip "The Chelsea Set" is pretty much more of the same, though slightly less memorable and deserving of its flip side status as a result. 

Reupload - Medium Wave Band - Mellow Yellow/ Disney Girls

Bonzos styled take on a Donovan hit, backed with beautiful "Disney Girls" cover

Label: Spark

Year of Release: 1976

When the irony-coated easy listening revival arrived in Britain in the nineties, there was a tendency to behave as if it was something new. In truth, knowing and faintly mocking easy listening covers have been a comedic part of pop music since at least the fifties, when rock and roll found itself fair game for all manner of inappropriately intricate cover versions.

During the seventies, session musician Graham Preskett also formed the Medium Wave Band ensemble who set about producing two delightful little singles of this ilk. The first one "Radio" has already been featured on this blog, but their cover of Donovan's "Mellow Yellow" is probably better value for money. Where the original swells over with false bonhomie, especially during the irritating studio "party" towards the end (fake recording studio parties never fail to destroy the mood of a record for me) the Medium Wave Band tighten their ties and button up their jackets for this and deliver a much more considered version. Doubtlessly indebted to Vivian Stanshall and actually admirable in its detail, like all the best comedy records this is part-joke, part careful study.  To be honest, I get more plain and ordinary enjoyment out of it than I do giggles.

Ray McVay Band - Genesis/ House of Clowns

Label: Parlophone

Year of Release: 1966

Ray McVay was something of an eager beaver in the sixties and seventies. He worked on arrangements for a wide number of rock acts, as well as issuing swathes of easy listening LPs. While none of the latter were enormous sellers, many were intriguing Easy interpretations of the musical fads and fashions of the day. From "Golden Country Hits" to "Reggae Time With Ray McVay", he issued tons of albums with saucy ladies on the cover which put his own spin on the top pops.

Suffice to say, then, that despite the title of "Genesis", this isn't some kind of psych or prog workout. It starts out with a slightly "Open University" sounding beginning, then progresses into some twangy, instrumental beat. Given that the capable songwriting of Greenaway and Cook is behind the tune, it's got plenty of atmosphere and feels instantly familiar. In fact, the incessant guitar twangin', snare drum rolls and the deep "a doo doobee doo" backing vocals will transport you back to those carefree, innocent moments in your life. 

Ray was touring with Eddie Cochran and almost sat in the car seat that claimed Eddie's life in that fateful car journey, but had to take alternative travel arrangements at the last moment. Cochran may have passed on, but Ray went on to have a very long career, and presently works in the current line-up of the Glenn Miller Orchestra.

Jean Bouchety - Marley Purt Drive/ Portrait of Nancy

Label: Major Minor

Year of Release: 1969

Major Minor is a label I tend to look for in second-hand racks quite often, because while it issued a lot of records of questionable merit (like all record labels) it does also have some perfectly good and relatively unheard and uncompiled sixties pop in its catalogue. So when I clocked the Gibb brothers credit on this record, I snapped it up quickly. Too quickly, really, as the original LP this was taken from ("The Rhythms, Sounds and Melodies Of...") retails at around half the price online.

Jean Bouchety is actually a French composer of numerous television and film soundtracks, and contributor to several library music LPs (including some issued by Burton music). So, this version of "Marley Purt Drive" is actually just a slick and swinging piece of easy listening with occasional cooing female vocals - the kind of thing you could stroll along Carnaby Street swinging your man-bag in time to, if anybody ever actually did or does that sort of thing.

It's actually rather nice, but not worth the money I paid for it, and while it is a very scarce 45 with few documented owners, sadly its obscurity hasn't hidden any mindblowing or even remotely odd interpretations of the Bee Gees work.  The lovely basslines and a careful arrangement mean it's not a total wash-out, however.  

Romford Golden Sunshine Band - Alberto The Great/ Kalahari Bushman Shuffle

Label: MGM

Year of Release: 1968

Ah, Romford. The Essex town that spoils us all, with the whiff of yeasty goodness from its brewery (way back when), the cheap polyester work shirts on sale at its market stalls, the tattered Union Jacks flapping proudly over various right-wing political party leafletting points... it's a place us Ilfordians, ourselves not living the high life, tend to look at when we want to feel a bit posh. 

A few days ago, someone remarked on Twitter that "The world is not like a pub car park in Romford" in an attempt to get someone to understand that violence is not always the answer to everything. A Romfordian user hit back: "Not comfortable with this level of Romford bashing. Fights tend to happen everywhere, and not just car parks." 

Still, I ought to be careful what I say - the great brassy force of this record makes it sound as if there's a lot of members in the Romford Golden Sunshine Band, and after this blog entry they might try to beat me up. While there may have been multiple musicians involved, the only members I'm able to verify with any certainty are lead man Dave Watson and co-writer Dennis Masterton. The drummer was apparently Bill Legend of T Rex fame, but I can't find a verifiable source for that fact.

"Alberto The Great" here is an incredibly merry instrumental, packed with equal doses of Herb Alpert styled shine and a tiny bit of soulfulness. It's a bit too chirpy to be a credible case for the dancefloor, but like some of the better easy listening instrumentals from this period, it has a careful and bouncy arrangement that's never boring. 

Sadly, Watson passed away some time ago from a heart attack, but his group's album "Would You Believe" is still available in its entirety on YouTube. It might be better to listen to them there rather than below. As you can see from my scans of the labels above, my copy of this single has been very well-loved and overplayed. 

Reupload - Mike Conway - I'm Gonna Get Me A Woman

Label: Plexium Records
Year of Release: 1968

I've said before that the reduced boxes and bins of your average second hand record store usually have a fair few sixties solo artists nesting amidst the novelty pop, three hit wonders and rejected promotional singles. The musical history books have been particularly poor at recording the comings and goings of these lone rangers unless they were folk artists - and even then, there are some shocking gaps in everybody's knowledge.

If there's any information out there about Mike Conway at all, I can't find it. On the evidence of this recording, though, he sounds like a middle of the road supper club character who obviously didn't find enormous success. "The Reign of King Sadness" is a celebratory ballad about the end of bleak times which is really quite wearisome despite its good intentions, and it's the B-side in all its "You couldn't get away with that now!" glory that I'm really interested in. "I'm Gonna Get Me A Woman" is a bold declaration of intent where, with a joyful, brassy orchestral backing, Conway assures us "I'm gonna get me a woman, yes sir/ I think that each guy should/ but I ain't gonna marry no gal/ unless she can cook real good". The year might have been 1968, and such thoughts may have already become desperately passe and offensive to some, but the mainstream of pop carried on churning out these feminist baiting lyrical corkers for years to come (as also evidenced in Moments and Whatnauts' hit "Girls" in the seventies). There's a bounce to "I'm Gonna Get Me A Woman" I find enticing, and a distinct tone of wrongness about the lyrics which seems amusing now. The confidence in Conway's voice is a noise to behold - you can imagine him skipping down the street singing the song.

Of equal interest is the production credit for David Balfe, which I can only assume isn't David Balfe out of the Teardrop Explodes unless he was some kind of studio prodigy, and the fact this came out on Plexium Records, a very early independent label which failed to take on the might of the majors, but is now extremely collectible.

(This blog entry was originally uploaded in 2009, and members of Mike Conway's family were kind enough to get in touch with me.  I've reproduced their information below:

Mike lived in North Cheam, London and was the lead singer for a local band in the sixties called The Undergrades. He also went on to sing The Riegn of..and also I'm gonna get...yes sir. He was my Fathers brother and Mikes sister was Moreen Rose a singer who played venues throughout the UK ,I believe in the late 50's. Moreen was married to Dennis Newey who was with the BBC orchestra. Mikes father was Frank Quinn OBE the Quartermaster for MI-6 who died under mysterious circumstance in the early seventies. Mike was a really great uncle and he was the singing local generation in London in the sixties. He passed away in N.Ireland some years ago at age 55.
With better lyrics and coaching he could have been truly great. The undergrades I think produced a record, I am sure of it. "Rock on Mike" Love always, your family.

Further to my brother's comments on Mike his real name was Mike Quinn and had a stint in the Army, owned a shoe shop in Belfast and was also a prison guard for a while. He was a talented man but never managed the break needed to succeed. He was a fun man and good uncle but in truth we did not see enough of him over the years. Mike was a playboy type in his younger days but when his father died I feel that Mike somewhat lost his way with music and his image. Thank you for the chance to remember Mike's music via this site. I remember having the record and playing it every so often but it got lost over the years. Nice to see a picture of it again.)

Les 409 - Reviens Reviens (Hello Goodbye)/ Un Amour Complique

Label: RCA Victor Canada International
Year of Release: 196?

If the Canadian band Les 409 are known for anything much at all outside their home nation (and possibly even the Quebec region) it's probably their single "They Say/ Born In Chicago", two fuzzy pieces of garage pop which are archived over on YouTube.  The single is ranked up there with Nuggets-compiled fellow Canucks The Haunted's "125", and probably would get more plays by DJs in mod/ garage clubs if only copies of the damn record weren't so hard to come by.

Back when they formed in 1963 it's true to say that Les 409 were raw and bluesy, but eventually this slick recording slipped out.  Carefully produced by Easy Listening legend (and enigma) Martin Martin, the A-side is a French translation of The Beatles single "Hello Goodbye".  The instrumental arrangements are a very sympathetic facsimile of the original, but the vocals push harder and seem slightly more abrasive - and, regrettably, sometimes less in-tune - than the original.  Like most Beatles covers, it takes few liberties and might be regarded as completely inessential if you ignore the fact that a French version of the Fab Four's most lyrically simple song is an entertainingly absurd idea.

Much better material is to be found on the flip.  "Un Amour Complique" is a wonderfully rich piece of swinging orchestrated pop which is clearly more influenced by the sixties French pop scene than anything in the UK.  Filled with beautiful flourishes and subtly addictive melodies, it sees both the band and Martin on top form, a far cry from their ballsy garage roots but still creating great music which is dramatic in an altogether different way.

If anyone knows what  became of Les 409 please let me know.  There's plenty of information about their period of activity online, but not much about what became of them all afterwards.

The Cavalry Twill - All You Need Is Love

Label: MGM
Year of Release: 1967

Another Beatles cover for your delectation, good readers, except unlike most Beatles covers this does actually attempt to shake the original arrangement up a bit to create something fresh-sounding.  This version of "All You Need Is Love" is an instrumental which attempts to outdo George Martin in terms of ambitious arrangements, adding frills and flourishes along the way which in places make the original tune reasonably hard to recognise if you're only half-listening.  For all that, however, it still manages to poke its head through all the tinsel when it comes to the chorus, and given that "All You Need Is Love" was never the finest Beatles single in my book - the "event" of the live global satellite broadcast overshadowing the rather basic tune - it's an easy track to take liberties with.

This was almost certainly a one-off studio experiment with leanings towards the easy listening market, and so far as I can ascertain The Cavalry Twill didn't release anything else, or at least not under that name.  It would seem that Neil Levenson was heavily involved in this - he is credited for production work and the gentle song "The Girl" on the flip.  He was a songwriter based in the USA who is perhaps best known for penning the song "Denise" for his group Randy and the Rainbows, which later became a huge hit for Blondie under the title "Denis".  This really is just a tiny footnote in his discography next to that effort.

Ebay Scoundrels and Fiends - with Marylebone Ensemble and The Square Pegs

Exhibit 1
Artist: The Square Pegs
Song: Love Me With All Your Heart b/w The Song Is You
Label: Decca
Year of Release: 1962

Despite the fact that I started this blog to promote the sheer fun you could have wading around second-hand record shops for obscure and unloved records, I freely admit that I'm a keen ebay user as well.  It's an irresistible site due to the sheer quantity and variety of material available - I could wait all year for a copy of Shocking Blue's "Send Me A Postcard" to turn up in my local Music and Video Exchange, or alternatively I could just bid on one of the many copies available that turn up online.

However, proper record stores are preferable if only because you can actually see what's being offered, and even if your view of what constitutes a disc in "Excellent condition!" differs from the owners, you can see the wear and tear with your very own eyes.  And also, if the shop dares to describe an Easy Listening LP as a "psychedelic must hear!!!" God help them the next time you're passing that way.  Ebay sellers do occasionally have tendencies to be a little less discerning in this respect, and whether it's because they're cloth eared or because they're just trying to make a quick buck, well, you be the judge.

Take this Square Pegs record as an example.  It was advertised as having a "Freakbeat B-side" by the seller, and given that it was starting at a low price I put a hasty bid on it.  In doing so, I completely failed to check the release date (1962) which would have given me a clue as to how searing the guitar-work on this number was likely to be.  I had let myself get over-excited by a faintly rebellious group name, and when this admittedly minty fresh demo 45 arrived in the post, I was dismayed by the noise I heard.  "The Song Is You" is almost odd in its decidedly straight approximation of a beat sound, consisting of vocal stylings Harry Secombe would doubtless have approved of on top of some very measured playing.  The A-side is a very ordinary ballad.  It's not the worst record I've ever bought in my life, but it's certainly not freakbeat, and I find it very hard to believe anyone could mistake at as being such.

(Scroll down for Exhibit B...)

Exhibit 2
Artist: The Marylebone Ensemble
Song: Porcelain/ Transplant
Label: Beacon
Year of Release: 1969

If the seller was to be believed, this effort is "psychedelic pop".  And again, I beg to differ.  What it actually is - on the A-side, at least - is a piece of easy listening which is sweet and sleepy, but a very odd choice for a 45.  Normally tracks such as these were buried on the many parent-attracting easy LPs that cluttered up the racks at Woolworths, not released as A-sides in the hope that they'd enjoy some radio play.

The B-side has possible leanings towards the mod side of things, however, in that it's an organ instrumental, albeit one that's so slow and steady in its tempo that it certainly wouldn't ignite much dancefloor movement.  It's not clear who the Marylebone Ensemble are, but my guess would be that it was a group name given to a bundle of session musicians who were hired on the day.

And that's as much depth as I'm prepared to go into on these two, I'm sorry to say.  As we approach the end of 2012, let's collectively hold both of them up as cautionary warnings, signs that we should take a deep breath, stop and think before we bid.  If that ultra-obscure 1966 single is going for a paltry sum in Excellent condition, it's usually not worth owning.  In my case, both of these will probably be charity-shop bound  in the New Year - I would put them up for sale again on ebay, but if I were actually honest about the contents I doubt they'd get off the block.

Uncle Tom Cobley's Ensemble - How Now Brown Cow/ The Dusty Miller

Label: Major Minor
Year of Release: 1967

Knowing the response some of my other easy listening uploads have received over the course of this blog's history, this will probably piss as many people off as it delights.  For, make no mistake about it, Uncle Tom Cobley's Ensemble are not a peculiarly named psychedelic group, as wonderful as that might be - they're some kind of studio aggregation put together for this one single.  Sorry.

But apologies may not be necessary if you're in a chipper frame of mind.  I actually believe that "How Now Brown Cow" is a sprightly piece of work which, had they any sense, the remaining boutiques around Carnaby Street would still be playing on their sound systems.  Pitched somewhere between "Kaiser Bill's Batman" (whose success it was probably supposed to emulate)  and the incidental music for a comedy Brit-flick of the era, it bounces along with such verve that it makes you want to step outside the front door, grab your handbag (or man-bag) and head towards the Kings Road so you can swing it with vigour whilst skipping through Chelsea.  Or perhaps these are all just my issues.

It is what it is, frankly, and you'll either rate it as a pleasant period piece or something so stupid I shouldn't have bothered either buying it or uploading it.   And not for the first time, I'll warrant.

Russ David - MacArthur Park

Label: World Pacific
Year of Release: 1968

I hate "MacArthur Park". I hate it with a passion even though I've been told not to, by my Dad (who seems to think it's some kind of piece of epic genius), by my English Literature lecturer at university (who felt that the lyrics were a fantastic piece of abstract lyrical expression about the constant, life-long reminders and nagging pull of first love) and by friends who have some peculiar Richard Harris fetish going on.  I've ranted about the bloody song so many times that a friend of mine made me a special birthday present one year - a double CD of cover versions of "MacArthur Park" from people as varied as Vic Damone, who unintentionally emphasised the comedy potential of the track, to Frank Sinatra to Jack White's old band Goober and the Peas.  Whatever his intentions were, it's safe to say that the "Best MacArthur Park Album In The World... Ever!" did little to convert me to the cause.

Somewhere along the way, however, he missed out this one.  Russ David was an accomplished bandleader and pianist who left a litter of pieces of easy listening and easy jazz on American record shelves everywhere, and this version of the tune is probably one of the only ones I actually find bearable - but then given that the overblown lyrics always were my main snagging point, this is probably inevitable.  Both sides of this snatch at the numerous riffs and melodic hooks throughout the original epic track and manage to get it done and dusted in quicktime.  There is a slight whiff of cocktail parties and cheese and wine gatherings about the affair, but the arrangements and general performance can't be faulted, and this takes something which was once grand and pompous and turns it into something welcoming and pleasant.  In doing so it possibly misses the point completely, but you won't find me complaining.

Incidentally, before any of you burn me as a witch I should add that I do like a lot of other Jimmy Webb tracks.

Geraldo 1969 - QE2/ Hello Again

Label: Morgan
Year of Release: 1969

You'll never be able to convince everyone of the benefits of a lot of easy listening and lounge music, but sometimes it's hard to understand why. Frequently perceived as laidback, smooth and blending into the background, it could actually often be quite rowdy, speedy, and bold, like both sides of this mysterious outing from the late sixties.

Side One opens with what sounds like a forgotten ident for an ITV regional station, then - POW! The horns blast into life, a guitar joins the party, and eventually after a few more horn blasts, a stylophone steps in. It's true to say I'm probably losing a few readers here, but such cynical types need to remember that there was a time in musical history when the stylophone was considered a novel enough instrument to be given pride of place on professional recordings, and not just a toy (David Bowie, we were continually reminded, used it on "Space Oddity"). The way the device is used as part of the arsenal of a lounge orchestra in this instance is peculiar and strangely likable, and the tune swings along at a merry, almost mod beat speed.

At the risk of repeating a refrain very familiar to this blog, it's actually the B-side I prefer. "Hello Again" starts off sounding exactly like the work of a freakbeat outfit before establishing its easy credentials - but again, the speed, vim and vigour of the thing shouldn't be underestimated. If placed mid-way through a standard mod DJ set, nobody would flinch (much).

I know nothing about Geraldo 1969 who I'm going to assume were a session ensemble put together by the Morgan Studios team. The Morgan label itself was of course owned by the recording studios of the same name, and failed to produce any hits at all during its existence. We've covered its history in a bit more depth elsewhere, and the compilation "House of Many Windows" is well worth tracking down, highlighting as it does some marvellous pieces of psychedelic pop which came out of that stable at the time.