Okay, well due to a paycheque screw-up at work I totally do not have a new computer right now, so I'm getting one in a couple months instead. Stupid teeth are breaking up due to old fillings done badly way back when. Molars shattering from eating toast, it's not good. Realized that I actually enjoy the act of chewing food, and if I don't get this over with soon I'll end up looking like Shane MacGowan in a few years. So, straightened out paycheque, dentist, then PC. That's the plan. The really boring plan. Putting that behind me, here's Joel Cowan with Songs Heard Through a Keyhole on Walter "Dootsie" Williams' Dooto (once Dootone) Records. An acoustic guitarist who played in big bands in the 1940's, was part of the Al Russell Trio/Do Ray Me Trio from '42 to '50 before joining the Camille Howard Trio. Then went on to do session work and back up for artists in the 50's. And check out the LP cover -
That there is actress Cia Dave in a rather risky shot (for the time, 1959) and no doubt helped a few extra records fly out the door. Well, "actress" may be a stretch, as it was one role in some forgotten flick by the name of Two for the Seesaw a couple years later in '62. The songs? Not really my bag. A few smiles here and there, but the bulk of what we're given here is 'ribald' songs much like what would come along from artists such as Oscar Brand and Ed McCurdy in a year or so and have its own small cadre of fans who were into the folk scene around this period in time. Nothing too lascivious, but you may recognize some of the altered covers he does, and he's quite an excellent picker.
A1 The Falsies In Brassieres
A2 Tail In The Bedroom
A3 Use Your Head
A4 You Shall Not Ride Tonight
A5 Dead Eye Dick
A6 My Home Cooking
B1 Thanks For Nothing
B2 Pocahontas And John Smith
B3 Cool Down Papa
B4 The Freakish Death
B5 My Old Dame
B6 The Fairy Prince
B7 The Two Dicks
B8 Tacos For Two
Greetings and salacious apologies. Does everyone who starts a blog think they'll be pumping the web with awesome stuff from their brain every single day, only to realize by the second post that it just, it just doesn't happen, and they can't figure out why? "I should get an album up every day," I thought - "...maybe miss a day once in a while, but...".
Okay! Here I was all set to offer up Joel Cowan's 'Songs Heard through a Keyhole', but I looked in the folder I had just copied the album to from Adobe Audition, and it was just all blank n stuff. No, wait, no stuff at all. So I wasn't about to do the LP again right away and I know you're all sitting there thinking, "That bastard. He is just not dedicated to this cause. Is there no one around anymore who cares enough to struggle for what they believe in, no matter how miniscule and pissant the return is?".
How far off was I? Pretty close I bet.
The answer to that is farmers. I flet bad about not having anything up. And my friends can tell you how I feel about fletting. So here's a thing from 1975, from the John Deere company, giving their bread 'n butter a shot in the hoe so maybe American food corporations might put down their binoculars, turn away from the sea and towards the heartland, and say, "HEY!! Look! There's food right there! WTF, buddy! Dude... Let's start selling THIS shit instead!", and more farmer's could then have more cash to head down to John Deere and buy caps and overalls.
And now, adieu, as I won't be posting til I get another computer, one that isn't a 2003 Sony Vaio w/XP and a paltry 1Gb of RAM and doesn't make me wish I was being eviscerated with a rusty pen-knife in the hands of some Joan Rivers lookalike rather than wait the precious minutes for the uploading of every damn thing I do to take forever (which is minutes). Sure I could calmly read a book kept handily at my side for just such instances, but laughing under my breath at the demons that are obviously in charge of the ubiquitous "(not responding)" message as insanity licks away at my psyche like so much delicious Haagen-Dasz ice cream seems more satsfying. Should be within a week, which is shorter than without me getting a new PC.
Found simultaneously crushed and sliced to death beneath several thousand LP records today was a Mr. Panaflex, age unknown, in a shabby apartment wondrously decorated with kitsch from bygone eras in the lower east side of Vancouver. Police say that this pathetically lonely but devastatingly handsome 6'1” male had one arm dislocated in an upward stretch position, apparently reaching for an obscure Yma Sumac recording when the dilapidated housing of said records gave way and took this tragically-undiscovered artist's strange and sad life.