Bond, James Bond: Ranking The Theme Songs

For the first decade of my life, my dad worked six days a week, eight hours a day, as a psychiatrist, to not only keep his four kids in everyday clover, but also so we could have unique experiences from time to time. As a parent now myself, I question the idea of being essentially absent 90 percent of the time so you can put on a big show later, but I am also grateful for the unforgettable things we did, one of which was getting six people on an ocean liner that takes them to France and then go on a tour of Europe for a month. This is how I found myself on the SS France at the age of nine watching something called Live And Let Die in the ships crushed-velvet jewel box of a theater. It was almost more than my pre-pubescent mind could take, just the sleekness of it all, whether the guns, cars, boats, or Roger Moore's chiseled jawline. 

While I recognize the extreme privilege of that scenario, I also embrace it as the most James Bond way to be introduced to James Bond. That was the start of my 007 obsession, too, which later included "Bonding" afternoons with my brother-in-law, in which we made our way through the entire series on rented VHS tapes, as well as several years where we saw the latest flicks on opening night. I also read everything Ian Fleming ever wrote and several books about him and the Bond films. One of my fascinations with the whole thing, besides the gripping tales and  eye-popping visuals, is the idea of one man creating something so enduring that it eventually becomes an industry all its own. Part of that industry didn't become standard until the third film: the James Bond Theme Song. As a music fanatic, nothing thrills me more than when the opening titles of a Bond film are accompanied by a song I can fully endorse.

But I also wouldn't be much of a Bond fan if I wasn't a critical Bond fan and I recognize that there have been choices along the way, from actors and screenwriters to directors and musicians, that resulted in a product that was, to put it kindly, less than ideal. Does the name Timothy Dalton ring any bells? Don't feel ashamed if not - he only made two films with the franchise in the 80s before returning to near-anonymity. And Moonraker is not just a lesser Bond film, it's just a bad movie, period. As for the music, much of that over the years was under the control of the great John Barry, who scored 11 films in the series, which now numbers 25 official entries (there were also two made by outside forces, not included here). Barry was remarkably adaptable as a composer, helping the series move from the 60s to the 70s and 80s, but always plied his trade with a flair for lush arrangements and sweeping melodies.

Barry's plush and dramatic style also infused the theme song for many years, establishing a template that often included bold brass and neck-snapping dynamics, usually driven by a vocalist with a big personality. Some of the best Bond songs became hits in their own right, leading to a latter-day scrabbling for chart success by employing popular stars who were maybe not the most suitable for the Bond sound, rather than letting the integrity of the ideas drive acceptance by audiences beyond the Bond core. With the conclusion of the Daniel Craig series finally reaching screens, there could be no better time to rank all of the theme songs from best to worst than now. At least until the next film!

A note about the James Bond Theme: Although the familiar twang of the James Bond theme is arguably the theme song for first film, Dr. No, since it went on to become a regular part of the series I did not include it in the ranking. It is a terrific piece of music, however, from the interlocking brass arrangements to Vic Flick's serrated guitar, and the way everything assembles to create an aura of mystery and excitement. Although credited to Monty Norman, who did much of the calypso-infused music for Dr. No, Barry may have written it and most certainly arranged it, using some ideas from The Bee's Knees, a song by The John Barry Seven. Whatever his role, he was paid $1,000 for his troubles - and handed the prize of scoring many of the films that followed.

1. Goldfinger (1964) - Shirley Bassey (Leslie Bricusse - Anthony Newley - John Barry) While not the first to have a theme song per se (see #7), the third movie was the first to set the template for how the theme song would be used for most of the rest of the series. And, man, did they create a tough act to follow! From the attention-getting opening with its wailing brass to Bassey's titanic performance (which made the Welsh singer an instant star) to the clever lyrics, Barry and co. did not put a foot wrong here. Fun fact: that's Jimmy Page, in his early days as a session man, strumming guitar on the track. He had a front row seat to Bassey's collapse after hitting those final high notes!

2. You Only Live Twice (1967) - Nancy Sinatra (Leslie Bricusse - John Barry) Soaring strings and swirling harp atop a lush bed of french horns open this pure fantasy of a song for the fifth movie. While Sinatra doesn't have the same power as Bassey, her penetrating, vibrato-free soprano cuts through the arrangement like a laser while she delivers the lyrics with perfect articulation. You'd never guess that Sinatra was so nervous that Barry had to assemble the vocal from 25 separate takes! Barry's arrangement is packed full of details and grounded by a distorted guitar line that snakes through the song. Vic Flick again?

3. Live And Let Die (1973) - Paul McCartney & Wings (Paul McCartney - Linda McCartney) After a dispute with producer Cubby Broccoli, Barry took a hiatus from Bond, leaving shoes so big they could only be filled by an ex-Beatle and his producer, George Martin. And, despite seeing it as "a job of work," Sir Paul accomplished the mission with aplomb, concocting ear candy perfect for seventies radio with a suite-like song that combines orchestral grandeur, rock theatrics, and a dash of reggae. Although Broccoli wanted Thelma Houston to sing it, I'm sure he changed his tune when the track hit #1 in the U.S.

4. No Time To Die (2020) - Billie Eilish (Billie Eilish - Finneas O'Connell) There's a fascinating moment in The World's A Little Blurry, the documentary about Eilish, where she and O'Connell are up against a deadline and need to finish their Bond entry on a tour bus. O'Connell is pushing her to up the drama in her vocal but she's resistant, saying, "I hate belting." But you can't have a classic Bond song without it and when she lets it rip after the intimate, almost conversational opening, it's thrilling. Hans Zimmer's orchestration and Johnny Marr's guitar hit the right notes, too, making for the best Bond song in decades. Further proof that a touch of darkness is an important part of the Bond sound world. Watch it live from the Brit Awards for a definitive performance. 

5. Diamonds Are Forever (1971) - Shirley Bassey (Don Black - John Barry) For Sean Connery's return to a role he had abdicated for the prior film, Barry returned to first principles, bringing Bassey back for a turn that was nearly as fabulous as her first. Barry's arrangement adds some novel touches, too, like subtle wah wah guitar and driving electric bass.

6. Nobody Does It Better (1977) - Carly Simon (Marvin Hamlisch - Carole Bayer Sager) In which 70s schlock merchants put tongues firmly in cheek and come up a winner with a Bond theme that is all wide-lapeled romance. Many Bond songs prior were about the villain or hinged on the film title or plot, but has Hamlisch pointed out "It was time that Bond be pretentious enough and vain enough to have a song written about him." Also clever was the way they embedded the film title in the lyrics rather than the song title: "Like heaven above me/The spy who loved me..." Driven by a melody even Radiohead couldn't deny, the song was all over the radio after Roger Moore's third film hit cinemas. 

7. Thunderball (1965) - Tom Jones (John Barry - Don Black) Something must be in the water in Wales as the only man who could almost beat Bassey at her own game was also Welsh. While it's a somewhat formulaic follow-up to Goldfinger, Barry and Black still deliver excitement - and Jones blows the vocal OUT. Originally the theme song was supposed to be called Mr. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and sung by Bassey, who was then replaced(!) by Dionne Warwick. The ensuing kerfuffle died down when the song was scrapped for Jones' Thunderball.

8. Moonraker (1979) - Shirley Bassey (John Barry - Hal David) It will take more than time to dim a voice like Bassey's, which sounds unchanged from the 60s in this, her third and final theme for the series. Unlike the overstuffed disaster onscreen, Barry's arrangement is restrained (for him, anyway) and a better  evocation of starlit space than all the special effects by Industrial Light & Magic.

9. From Russia With Love (1963) - Matt Monroe (Lionel Bart) Although the second film in the series opens with an instrumental theme, having this song in the midst of the film must have given the producers ideas about how a song with the same title as the movie could work to boost the brand. Sung by Matt Monroe, one of several Frank Sinatra soundalikes around in the early 60s, it has an intriguing mixture of gravitas and romance. 

10. A View To A Kill (1985) - Duran Duran (Duran Duran - John Barry) For Moore's last outing as 007, the 80s superstars collaborated with Barry and Chic's Bernard Edwards and created the most successful theme song of the franchise's first 30 years. It's also one of their best songs, a minor-key verse that's pure Bond abutting a chorus that has all the pompadoured bombast that defined new romantic Euro-pop at its peak. The use of digital sampling (by John Elias) made the song sound futuristic while emulating the quick-cutting style that's a signature of the Bond films.

11. Skyfall (2012) - Adele (Adele Adkins - Paul Epworth) A decade on, my antipathy towards Adele has subsided enough for me to hear that this is a pretty good Bond song. It has some of the mystery and drama we've come to expect and incorporates the chord changes of the James Bond Theme in a nice homage to the history of the series. The lyrics also do a decent job of telegraphing the somber mood of Craig's third film. But I will also say that Adele's bizarre relationship to vowel sounds ("skyfoal" "crumbowls" instead of "skyfall" and "crumbles," etc.) can still drive me crazy and putting the song at this point of the list is more a reflection of the degradation to come than the actual quality of the song.

12. For Your Eyes Only (1981) - Sheena Easton (Bill Conti - Mike Leeson) As this is unequivocally Moore's finest Bond film, it's too bad John Barry was a tax exile at the time and couldn't be involved. The song isn't a total disaster, but the complete lack of sensuality in Easton's vocals and the glittery arrangement put it too deeply into "adult contemporary" territory for my taste. 

13. We Have All The Time In The World (1969) - Louis Armstrong (John Barry - Hal David) For On Her Majesty's Secret Service, the first Bond film without Sean Connery, the producers returned to the From Russia With Love template of opening with an instrumental theme and including a song midway through the film. As it is the song most closely associated with George Lazenby's one shot as 007, I included it instead of the opening theme, which is a better piece of music. This breezy ditty with Herb Alpert-esque trumpet is pleasant enough but has few of the sonic hallmarks of classic Bond. While its cavity-inducing sweetness is somewhat mitigated by Armstrong's gruff vocals and the fact that it hinges on the death of Bond's first wife (played by Diana Rigg), it remains pure sap. It's not much a song and ends in a curiously unsatisfying fashion, but Satch always delivers, thus it's not ranked lower.

14. The Living Daylights (1987) - A-ha (Pal Waaktaar - John Barry) Sounding more than ever like the poor man's Duran Duran, this clanky retread succeeds mainly thanks to Barry's strings and stabs of brass. Some things never go out of style, unlike the cheap synths employed by the band. It's a little stiff, just like Dalton's first time as Bond. It's also not the valedictory one would have desired for Barry's last film in the series. He died in 2011 and, while there were moments where it seemed like he would return, he never scored another Bond movie. The good news about that is that he was freed up to compose the music for Dances With Wolves, one of the greatest soundtracks of all time.

15. License To Kill (1989) - Gladys Knight (Narada Michael Walden - Jeffrey Cohen - Walter Afanasieff - John Barry - Leslie Bricusse - Anthony Newley) I'm not sure what Frankenstein legalities caused the inclusion of Barry and co. in the credits. Based on its unremittingly blandness, however, maybe it would have been better if they had actually written the song. Knight's vocal is fine but Walden and Afanasieff have proved time and again that when you drain the rhythm and blues from R&B, there ain't much left. Pity, as this was Dalton's best attempt at being Bond.

16. The World Is Not Enough (1999) - Garbage (David Arnold - Don Black) For Pierce Brosnan's entertaining but forgettable third outing as Bond, Arnold again played the role of a souped-up high-tech John Barry, something he does fairly well. So it makes sense that the theme would have a retro resonance, with a huge orchestra, including a tsunami of harps, and some twangy guitar. I might have ranked it higher were it not for Shirley Manson's underwhelming vocal.  A better song, while not quite title sequence material, was Arnold and Black's Only Myself To Blame, sung by Scott Walker in a stunning return to his 60s croon, which was used over the end credits. 

17. All Time High (1983) - Rita Coolidge (John Barry - Tim Rice) Even lyricist Rice conceded this was "not one of the most exciting Bond songs" and it's mainly pure inoffensiveness that keeps it from ranking lower. An abandoned cover version by Bassey shows that it could have been better with a stronger voice than Coolidge's - but not by much. Funny that they felt Octopussy was an appropriate name for a movie but not a song!

18. GoldenEye (1995) - Tina Turner (Bono - The Edge) On paper, post-comeback Turner is a perfect candidate to sing a Bond theme. However she sounds unengaged with this song, which is melodically barren, and delivers a wooden performance. Nellee Hooper does what he can as producer to bring some Bond class to the proceedings, but seems unable to develop the weak material beyond his initial ideas. Not a promising fanfare to introduce Pierce Brosnan as 007.

19. The Man With The Golden Gun (1974) - Lulu (John Barry - Don Black) Barry returns after McCartney's triumph and gives us...this? Even with the trademark strings and brass combined with stinging guitar, the tempo is all wrong and Lulu can't seem to find a consistent way to master her voice's limitations to deliver the song. The movie wasn't much better.

20. Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) - Sheryl Crow (Sheryl Crow - Mitchell Froom) It took them 15 years, but the Bond production team finally found a singer with less danger and mystery than Sheena Easton. The song itself has some good elements but Crow's singing lacks any semblance of a personality. In a bizarre twist, the original theme, written by David Arnold with Don Black and sung with panache by K.D. Lang, was relegated to the end credits. Arnold overall did a fine job with the music, but the misstep with the song only made it sting more that Barry couldn't agree on a fee to return to the franchise for Brosnan's second film.

21. Writing's On The Wall (2015) - Sam Smith (Sam Smith - Jimmy Napes) Like Crow's entry, this song has a smidgen of promise as a Bond theme, but Smith is a dreary singer with an especially egregious falsetto. To make matters worse, the producers rejected two songs by Radiohead, the epic Man Of War and the moody Spectre, either of which would have made a stunning and distinctly different opener for the film. Unfortunately, the Oscars rewarded this kind of behavior by giving a statue to Smith's regrettable entry. 

22. You Know My Name (2006) - Chris Cornell (Chris Cornell - David Arnold) For all its histrionics, this was a disappointingly generic way to herald in Craig's triumphant debut as Bond, but Casino Royale was so good I didn't care.

23. Another Way To Die (2008) - Jack White and Alicia Keys (Jack White) While many criticized Quantum Of Solace, Craig's second Bond, I thought it was a brilliantly nasty follow-up to Casino Royale. This song, however, a just a mess, filled with "musical" ideas as wrongheaded as teaming up Keys and White, who coagulate like chalk and cheese. Feel free to skip!

24. Die Another Day (2002) - Madonna (Madonna - Mirwais Ahmadzaï) As much as I encourage innovation in the Bond universe, a techno parody by Madonna is not what I had in mind. Sheerly awful claptrap, ending this ranking in unnecessarily ignominious fashion! 

Many things are uncertain. But James Bond will be BACK - once they figure out who can follow Daniel Craig, that is. When it comes to the next theme song, I still maintain hope that Goldfrapp will get the nod, but there are several others, like Angel Olsen, Anika, or Jane Weaver who would do a great job. Who are you hoping to hear over a glamorous title sequence in the future?

Listen to the themes in chronological order here and my ranking in the playlist below. As the James Bond Theme is unranked, I put it at the bottom as a palate cleanser!

 

Note: Some quotes and information were taken from the booklet included in The Best of James Bond 30th Anniversary Limited Edition (1992), with track annotations by Steve Kolanjian. The picture above depicts John Barry in the studio with an orchestra.

ACME Honors Jóhann Jóhannsson At LPR

The subterranean performance space at (Le) Poisson Rouge quickly grew silent when the six musicians of the American Contemporary Music Ensemble filed on the stage last Sunday night. They took their seats and began to play an overview of the music of Icelandic composer Jóhann Jóhannsson, who died earlier this year at the age of 48. The most recent work included was bc, a gorgeous elegy for cello and electronics co-composed with ACME’s cellist and Artistic Director, Clarice Jensen and recently released on her debut solo album. bc found Jóhannsson honing many of the ideas about repetition, texture and emotional impact that he had been working on since at least 2009 when ACME put on the first concert of his music in New York on this very same stage. 

Selections from that concert were also played, which could lead to the temptation to see this show as the completion of a circle. But, as Jensen pointed out in her brief remarks, Jóhannsson’s music will live on in the many films he scored, such as Denis Villeneuve’s Sicario and Arrival, and the Golden Globe-winning The Theory Of Everything. As one of the leading cinematic composers of our time, Jóhannsson’s influence will also continue to be felt in theaters for years to come. Jensen also expressed her wish that his music live on in the concert hall as well. “There’s a big hole on stage,” she remarked, “but there’s a lot left, too.”

Taken as a whole, the concert was as strong an argument for Jóhannsson’s ongoing presence in our musical lives as can be imagined. The performances were superb, exquisitely emotional but also precisely controlled, with all of the players deserving special mention: Ben Russell and Laura Lutzke, violins; Caleb Burhans, viola; Paul Wiancko, cello; and Grey McMurray, piano, guitar and electronics. Each musician became a stand-in for the many facets of our grief about Johansson’s death, their faces expressing emotions ranging from stoicism, deep sorrow and calm acceptance.

The program, which can be found in this playlist, was also well-sequenced, beginning with selections from Jóhannsson’s first album, 2002’s Englabörn, and then traversing his career outside of film. Corpus Camera, a work for string quartet, was played, along with an excerpt from Fordlandia and a piece from IBM 1401 A User’s Manual. bc was the penultimate work before the ensemble ended with Flight From The City from Jóhannsson’s last album, Orphée. For this, one of his signature pieces, Jensen joined McMurray on the piano bench and played the piano part while he handled the electronics. It was somehow deeply satisfying to watch her fill the space between iterations of that beautiful phrase with a movement, a gathering of breath, that might have seemed exaggerated if not for the heavy emotional freight of the moment. And it is a marvelous phrase, seeming to embody reflection, memory, sorrow and regret, while maintaining an optimistic forward motion. When the piece ended, it was our turn to take in a breath, leading to a brief pause before a rapturous standing ovation.

We applauded ACME for the care and love they had shown to Jóhannsson and his music throughout the night, and indeed over the last decade. We applauded the members of his family who were present, letting them know they were not alone in their loss. And we applauded Jóhannsson’s music and all he had accomplished in his too short life. “It was like witnessing a resurrection,” my friend said after we had gathered our thoughts for a few minutes, which was true as Jóhannsson had seemed so present for an hour. But while he may be at rest now, the music must continue to be a part of our lives. Besides ACME’s playlist, I also recommend this episode of David Garland’s Spinning On Air podcast where he revisits another LPR concert from 2010 and his interview with Jóhannsson from the same year.

There is also new music to discover, such as the soundtrack to The Mercy, which came out just days before his death. This music for the story of failed circumnavigator Donald Crowhurst finds Jóhannsson in top form and is filled with detailed electro-acoustic vignettes. Just listening tells a story, from the bright, busy Boating For Beginners, like sunlight dancing on water, to the uncertainty of The Doldrums, when things are going wrong. I also imagine it captures all the feelings and images of the film with perfect acuity. While Jóhannsson repurposed some tracks from his earlier score for Free The Mind, The Mercy represents a significant addition to his legacy. There’s also his score for Mary Magdalene, which I haven’t heard yet but can see it being a perfect fit with the hymnal elements in Jóhansson’s music.

Finally, there’s the reissue of that debut, now called Englabörne & Variations, which Jóhannsson was working on when he died. Besides the original album there’s a second disc of remixes and reimaginings by his collaborators, contemporaries and influences, including Hildur Guðnadóttir, A Winged Victory For The Sullen and Ryuichi Sakamoto. Although it wasn’t conceived as a tribute album, it does the job handsomely and points out the rich tapestry of relationships and resonances Jóhannsson wove in his career. I hope there will be more projects like that, and performances such as we heard at LPR. As Jóhannsson told Garland in the interview linked above, “I think it’s probably something quite visceral which I’m after, something very down in the stomach, in the blood — with the emotions. That’s where the music comes from in a way, and that’s where great music hits me.” I don’t think I’m alone in saying that Jóhannsson’s music hits me there, too, so let’s keep it circulating.

Note: ACME will be performing Jóhannsson’s Drone Mass in Athens, Greece on June 18th. Keep an eye on their website for future performances.

You may also enjoy:
Best Of 15: Classical & Composed
Best Of The Rest Of 12: Composed & Contemporary

Paul Maroon Resurfaces

After The Walkmen went on “extreme hiatus” I realized that, next to Hamilton Leithausers’s otherworldly crooning, Paul Maroon’s incandescent guitar was my favorite part of the band. So it definitely softened the blow of their dissolution when Maroon’s playing was a defining feature of Black Hours, Leithauser’s first solo album from 2014. I thought these two men were like brothers and even without a band they would continue to work together forever, or at least close to it. 

This was reinforced when Dear God, a vinyl-only release credited to both to them, came out about a year later. It was typically brilliant, even when Maroon dedicated himself to keyboards instead of guitars on a few songs. They were all good songs and all was right in my little corner of indie world. 

But then Leithauser’s next album came out and it was a collaboration with Rostam Batmanglij, late of Vampire Weekend, and Maroon was out of the picture. I never liked Vampire Weekend but thought the two songs Rostam contributed to Black Hours were pretty good and so listened to I Had a Dream That You Were Mine with an open mind. It didn’t work for me. I wanted Maroon back. Where was Maroon? I googled Maroon and found only old posts about Dear God. I even asked Twitter where he was and was told to seek out this great album called Dear God. I replied that not only did I have the album, but it had been delivered to me personally by Leithauser. That was old news. 

Maroon then became one of my little projects, like that wonderful band Hospitality, someone I would Google now and again to see if they had resurfaced. The trail was cold and I began to worry about his health. As it happened, I should have been worrying about Stewart Lupton, his former colleague from Jonathan Fire*Eater, the band that preceded The Walkmen. When Lupton died last month - far too young at 43 - I decided to check into Maroon again. My dedication paid off! There were new hits! Maroon was back!

The first thing that came up was a new column he’s writing for the AV Club, Ask An Indie Rock Veteran, where he dispenses erudite answers to questions like Do indie-rockers ever get indie-stalkers? or Is recording with a metronome or click track a must? His 30-year career has given him in-depth knowledge about music, production, touring and every other aspect of being a professional musician and he is generous with his wisdom and a damned good writer. I was enjoying reading the column but it was when I got to the end that I got really excited, for there at the bottom of a request for more questions was this line: In the meantime, come listen to my scoring work at Henderson-Maroon.com.

I clicked and found an elegant website representing Maroon’s collaboration with Morgan Henderson, the multi-instrumentalist from Fleet Foxes, whose bass playing was also all over Black Hours. Apparently they struck up a friendship during a legendary (to me) tour that had The Walkmen co-headlining with Fleet Foxes. I saw one of the shows, on the Williamsburg Waterfront with the sunset at our back, and it’s all too easy to imagine collaborations and friendships arising out of the camaraderie we witnessed on stage. 

The website features some beautiful samples of their work, showing off their versatility for potential clients. I especially love the one called Field Recordings, which is a dramatic and highly distinctive vignette that seems to tell its own story even without any visuals. There’s also the happy news that Heaven is a Traffic Jam on the 405, which was scored by Maroon, won the 2018 Oscar for Best Documentary Short Subject. That should lead to more of those potential clients! 

Does this recent activity mean that I won’t jump for joy if Maroon and Leithauser work together again? Certainly not, but it does my heart good to see a great musician I admire finding fulfillment and showing the world a new aspect of his talent. Long may Maroon’s flag wave! Now, if I could just find out what Amber Papini and Nathan Michel of Hospitality are up to. I hope they’re OK...

You may also enjoy:
New Americana Pt. 2: Hamilton Leithauser & Paul Maroon
Best Of 14 (Part 2)
Make Time For Black Hours
A Chilly Welcome From Hospitality

#RSD2018: Iris Blooms In Jersey City

When it comes to Record Store Day, I’m in it for the music not the promise of eBay resales or collecting some gussied up version of an old favorite just to pin it down like an asphyxiated butterfly. This is why I’m at least as excited about the used CD I tracked down this past Saturday during my observation of the 11th annual celebration of record store culture. 

Yes, I’ve heard all the complaints and read all the amusing think pieces (“The 10 Most Reprehensible People You’ll Meet On Record Store Day,” etc.), but for me it’s an opportunity to use the calendar to force me off my beaten path and check out a new spot. This year was similar to 2013, in that I had a few other hard-scheduled things I had to do, one of which involved using my car, which is why I ended up going out to Iris Records in Jersey City, which has been around off and on for about 20 years. 

I confess that I was also influenced by their canny Facebook advertising, which kept their existence front of mind for the last few months and also informed me that they would be opening at noon, just like any other Saturday. This would fit perfectly with my errand to Bay Ridge, even if it meant spending enough on tolls to fill a couple of potholes! Iris is run by Stephen Gritzen, with whom I have been acquainted for at least a couple of decades through our mutual friend, nightlife photographer extraordinaire, Catherine McGann. Steve is a such a stand-up guy that about 10 years ago when I mentioned to Cathy that I was desperate to find a copy of Basement 5 In Dub, he found it in his crates and had her pass it on at no charge. So, my visit would also be a chance to thank him in person for completing my collection of one of the most misunderstood bands of the 80’s. 

Lining Up For Goodies

I arrived a few minutes before noon and got on a line with about 30 other people. Besides the fact that I was adjacent to three smokers (including a cigar - yuck!), it was a congenial crowd, including at least a few people making Iris their second stop for RSD. I kept an ear out to hear what other people were looking for so I could help them if I spotted it first. Eventually the line started moving and I could see that Steve had two tables set up on the sidewalk with crates full of this year’s exclusive releases. I had already read though lists of what was coming out this year and had my antenna up for a couple of things. Due to budgetary concerns, it was important for me to stay focused and not get distracted by shiny objects that might not provide the musical satisfaction I needed. 

By the end of my perusal of the outdoor crates I had a small stack of items to sort through, including two items on my must-have list, Un Esercito Di 5 Uomini, one of three Ennio Morricone soundtracks out this year, and An Evening With Ornette Coleman Vol. 2. There was also an album of Laraaji remixes by the likes of Ras G, Dntl and others, a seminal punk album by The Lurkers recommended by Billboard’s Ron Hart, and a record of Mozart sonatas played by Florian Fricke of krautrock legends Popol Vuh. I decided to take a look around the rest of Iris before making my final cut. 

Located in an old apothecary shop, Iris has loads of atmosphere and plenty of nooks and crannies to explore, with almost an equal amount of used and new LP’s plus a solid supply of 45’s and CD’s. There are  also some videos, books and memorabilia scattered about and the back counter has been converted into a DJ booth. I flipped through quite a few sections and found things to be fairly priced and often in excellent condition. New arrivals are conveniently segregated and there are also bins of budget vinyl where you can take your chance on a ragged obscurity or two. 

Digging In The Crates

As far as I remember, all CD’s are $4, which is more than fair and led me to take a cursory look through what Steve had. Bingo - a copy of The Moon Looked Down And Laughed, the second (and last) album by Virgin Prunes, which came out in 1986 and was hard to find in the U.S. even then. As I am a huge fan of theirs and lead singer Gavin Friday, this was a real thrill. The Moon... is a gorgeously gloomy (and occasionally wayward) album that can be seen as the missing link between Friday’s art-goth provocations and the brilliant song craft and interpretive genius of his solo career, which started three years later with Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves. I now see that Mute Records did a whole Virgin Prunes reissue campaign in 2004 that I somehow missed - I'll have to get the rest!

Now it was time to decide and pay before my hunger for lunch interfered with my judgement. It turned out not to be all that difficult. The Fricke album was a beautiful package but in the end it was Mozart and that’s just not a priority for me right now. Since I wasn’t familiar with all the remixers, I worried that the Laraaji album could end up being hit and miss. Also, I wouldn’t be surprised to see some or all of it on Spotify at some point. At that point, it was easy to relinquish The Lurkers to keep my costs down while sticking to my original Morricone and Coleman plans. I consider myself lucky to find two exclusives, which is more than I usually get on RSD. 

Now that I’ve had a chance to listen, I’m even happier with my decision. Un Esercito Di 5 Uomini (Five Man Army) is quintessential Morricone, with all the rich melancholy and unusual contrasts that implies. Side Two is particularly staggering and this reissue replicates the Italian cover perfectly while using translucent blue vinyl for extra pizzaz. The Ornette Coleman, recorded live in 1965 and briefly issued 10 years later, features a lineup that was unfamiliar to me, with David Izenzon on bass and the great Charles Moffett on drums. Coleman himself plays more violin and trumpet than usual, almost making it sound like a quintet. Side One is dense and filled with raging fury, while Side Two is spacious and filled with the joyful melody-making that is one of his greatest characteristics, especially on the song called Happy Fool. Lots to unpack and the clear vinyl was a nice touch. 

My RSD Finds

I enjoyed my visit to Iris and even had a chance to thank Steve for the Basement 5 EP. I plan to make a return visit soon and also wouldn’t mind going back to Skinner’s Loft, where I had a fine lunch. On my way there I saw a freshly coiffed rock & roll dude in a leopard print jacket come out of a hair salon, towing a guitar and amp on a luggage cart. Next thing I know, he’s playing classic rock covers in the middle of Newark Street, where a block party was taking place. Apparently he’s a regular fixture known for his Bowie covers. Maybe I’ll see him again on my next trip to Jersey City. 

Coda:  On my way back to the car, I noticed that the hair salon also sold records so I thought “why not” and went in. After flipping a bit I realized that Iris was supplying these records, too! I found a pristine copy of Be Bop Deluxe’s The Best Of And The Rest Of, which has never been reissued and has a few tracks not found elsewhere. Call me an axe victim, but I like Bill Nelson in most of his incarnations so I picked that up, too. It was that kind of day. 

If you went out on RSD, how did you fare?

You may also enjoy:
Vinyl And Grit: RSD 16
Everybody, Get In Line: RSD 15
RSD 2014

A Bronx Cheer For RSD

Record Roundup: One Day In 2018

Having burrowed deep into the best of 2017 in my recent posts, I now emerge blinking into the light of a new year, which means more music to discover. I wiped the slate clean by archiving all my “Of Note” playlists (see list below), and started filling them up again immediately. Instead of focusing on one area, as I usually do in these roundups, here's what one day of listening to only new releases might look like, one month in to 2018.

The Morning Commute

Jonny Greenwood - Phantom Thread I may be one of the few who does not revere filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson, but I have long admired his collaboration with Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood, who has worked on the scores for his last several movies. Starting with There Will Be Blood, this has led to some of the most compelling soundtrack albums of the last decade or so. My favorite might be Inherent Vice, with its fascinating mixture of Greenwood’s Herrmann-esque cues and mostly obscure global pop. With Phantom Thread, Greenwood continues the streak, resulting in another immersive listening experience that stands on its own. 

While some of my impressions may change after seeing the movie (which also includes music by Debussy, etc.), it was only a few minutes into my first listen before I was reveling in Greenwood’s ability to turn the abstractions of melody and orchestration into what felt like a meditation on memory and emotion. Composing mainly for strings, with well-placed harp, piano and percussion, Greenwood has created several themes and variations that feel elementally human, easy to grasp but with depth and nuance. 

For the first ten tracks, it feels like Greenwood (and presumably Anderson) is probing, exploring, drawing outlines and making connections. Then, when he brings the hammer down in Phantom Thread III, its baroque grandeur is shattering. Everything afterwards feels like an uneasy detente. But that’s just a guess at a narrative, letting my mind drift on a crowded A Train on the way to work. Your results may vary, but that you will likely be captivated. The Academy Of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences certainly was, so I will be rooting for Greenwood to win that elusive Oscar for best soundtrack on March 4th. 

At My Desk: I

Johnny Gandelsman - J.S. Bach Sonatas and Partitas for Violin Gandelsman, a member of both Brooklyn Rider and the Silk Road Ensemble, sought out Bach's solo pieces to "focus inward" and find his own voice again after years of collaborations with musicians and composers from around the world. After several concerts he found himself growing into the works in such a way that he felt recording them would allow him to dig deeper into this epochal music. I'm glad he did, as even a brief survey of violin performances did not turn up one that was nearly as satisfying as what Gandelsman has given us here. The first thing I noticed was the rhythmic acuity, with phrases shaped to respect their melodicism but also the dance forms on which many of them are based.

The melodies themselves are presented without frills, giving a sense of the age of the music, which was after all borne out of a mind raised on folk songs and hymns. Everything from tempo to intonation seems dedicated to bringing the music to joyful life, rather than just paying homage to the master. The recording itself is also excellent, close and crisp but not without warmth. The liveliness and forward motion in both the performances and music prove to be a perfect accompaniment to cleaning out my inbox on a Monday morning. After about an hour, however, my inbox is empty and I find myself craving a change. Perfect timing, as the first disc is over - now I have more Bach to look forward to tomorrow.

Further Listening: If wanted a completely different single instrument experience, I might put on Matteo Liberatore's Solos, 12 adventurous, mostly improvised pieces for acoustic guitar. Liberatore's lack of interest in convention has him using everything from alligator clips to a bass drum pedal to elicit a vertiginous variety of sounds out of his instrument. Some songs are more rambling than others, but the tactile quality of the music is never less than fascinating. Try the fractured lyricism of Causeway if you just want to dip a toe. 

At My Desk: II

Hollie Cook - Vessel of Love While it has been nearly four years since Cook's last album, I admit I barely noticed the gap. That's because I never stopped listening to either her heavenly self-titled debut (2011) or the equally addictive follow up, Twice (2014). Both albums featured masterful Jamaican rhythms constructed by Prince Fatty, providing a perfect setting for Cook's high, airy soprano and her tales of loves found and lost and found again. I'm a big enough fan that I was slightly concerned when I heard she had not only switched labels, from world and dance-centric Mr. Bongo to all-American Merge Records, but also changed producers, from Prince Fatty to Youth. Now, Youth has had a fascinating career - bass player for Killing Joke, producer of everyone from Bananarama to Paul McCartney - and also knows his way around reggae and dub, hence the only minor worry.

Fortunately, any trepidation was for naught and I'm happy to report that while Vessel Of Love represents a slight update to Cook's sound, it's still in the same lane as the delightful "tropical pop" for which she is known. That update is mainly reflected in the density of Youth's tracks, with keyboards and horns stacked tall in the grooves, which seem a little less retro than Prince Fatty's approach. Fatty is not totally absent, however, as all the drum tracks were sampled from one of his beat packs. Youth's post-punk past is also reflected in the participation of two original members of Public Image Ltd., Jah Wobble, who plays bass on four songs, and Keith Levene, who plays guitar on one. Wobble is especially titanic on the spacey Lunar Addition, seemingly pulling notes out of deep craters of sound. But most of the playing is by Cook's excellent road band and all is subservient to her vision. Her singing is better than ever, too, richer and more confident. If you're not hooked after listening to the sublime Freefalling or Survive, I can't help you. I know I chugged through nearly an hour of proposal-writing with a lightness of spirit thanks to drinking deeply from Cook's Vessel of Love.

Note: Hollie Cook is on tour, touching down in New York on March 23rd.

Further Listening: If I wanted to continue in the Jamaican groove, Overdubbed by Sly And Robbie Meet Dubmatix would more than do the trick. A series of tracks by one of the ultimate rhythm sections repurposed by a Toronto-based reggae maven, Overdubbed is never less than funky and occasionally whips up a storm of echoes that approaches critical mass. Boom.

Coffee Time

Shame - Songs Of Praise I recently wrote about how some bands influenced by post-punk seem rotely imitative while other take the ball and run with it. Shame is in the latter group, a South London quintet who have done their homework with bands like The Fall (RIP Mark E. Smith!), Wire, Gang Of Four, Killing Joke, etc., and figured out ways to recombine all that wondrous DNA into something fresh. They also cite Eddy Current Suppression Ring, a noisy Aussie band that made a splash about a decade ago but whom you don’t hear much about these days. 

Not only does Shame know their history, but they also grasp the crucial importance of a tight rhythm section, and both bassist and drummer keep it locked while also finding room for creativity and even swing. The guitarists also divvy up responsibilities wisely, spraying off either gritty chords or sparkling melody for a heady blend. Concrete and Friction are two songs that exemplify this approach and the latter has some their most interesting lyrics. “Do you ever help the helpless,” sings Charlie Steen in the first of a series of questions most likely directed at himself. “Do you give them any time? Do you ever bully your conscience and detach from your mind?” The answer seems to be mostly “maybe,” which is fine - the boys in Shame are still young. 

Look, I don’t want to oversell Songs Of Praise. Shame are not the second coming. But this is a damned good rock album, with energy and invention to burn, and the promise of more and even better sounds to come. Just the thing to help me power through the end of the day, when I’m caffeinating and need to clear my head get stuff done before hitting the road home. 

Note: Catch Shame live in their New York debut on March 23 at Market Hotel - yes, the same night as Hollie Cook! - or find a date near you. 

Further Listening: If I needed to keep cranking, I might play Open Here by Field Music or Rock Island by Palm. Both are filled with dense, shiny, optimistic song constructs that will make you sit up in your chair. Further listening is necessary to say much more than that, but it's obvious that these are records that will sustain me throughout the year. Palm's album comes out February 9th - come celebrate that night at Market Hotel. Holly Miranda also has a new album on the way and Golden Spiral, the latest single, is a glammy stomp with enough brute force to power a semi truck up a steep grade. Pre-order Mutual Horse here or pick up a copy at the release show on March 22nd at Park Church Co-Op. 

The Evening Commute

Maya Baiser - The Day This new album by “cello goddess” Beiser weds two post-9/11 compositions by David Lang, World To Come (2003) and The Day (2016). The newer piece was conceived by Beiser and Lang as a prequel of sorts, a meditation on the quotidian, all the varieties of experience that could be reflected in the lives of this who died on that tragic day. The Day features a spoken word text based on a Google search Lang did to complete the sentence “I remember the day that I...” The memories ranged from “I got into college,” and “I saw the advertisement” to “I heard he was tragically killed,” and “I realized my children had ruined my dreams,” a truly full range of recollections. Read crisply by actress Kate Valk and arranged alphabetically, the words can recede or come to the foreground depending on your attention. Either way, combined with the dark melodies of Beiser’s multi-tracked cello, it’s haunting and startlingly effective. 

World to Come also includes vocals, Beiser accompanying herself by singing syllables, sometimes just tuned percussive breaths, while playing Lang’s searching, interweaved cello lines. As in the first piece, Beiser’s playing is virtuosic and it is hard to imagine a better, more committed version of either work. In a recent live performance at Paula Cooper Gallery, Beiser’s immersion was obvious and some of the more melodic gestures seemed bigger and more shapely, even romantic. Both Lang and Beiser have stayed connected to the cello’s humanity in these works, making for a richly emotional experience. The use of pre-recorded cello was slightly distracting in the live context, but on the album there’s no reason to even think about the mechanics behind this gorgeous music. There are future performances in the works, some featuring a dance component, so keep an eye on Beiser's calendar. Unless the book I’m reading is totally gripping, I might just let my mind drift with the music as the A train fills up and empties again on its way to the last stop. 

Dinner Time

SiR - November This album is not much longer than SiR’s excellent EP from last year, but it further develops his vision of spare, futurist R&B. There’s a vague theme of space travel - at one point we are informed that there are 33 trillion kilometers left on our journey - but it’s mostly relationship jams, of an either edgy (Something Foreign) or cozy (Something New) variety. It’s a pretty seamless listen, with only I Know marked for deletion due to its irritating hook. SiR also has wit, which makes some of his occasionally retrograde views go down easier. The mostly mellow November provides a fine accompaniment to the clink of knives and forks on China as my wife and I catch up on the events of the day over a meal. 

SiR is part of the TDE crew, along with Kendrick Lamar and SZA, and will join them and others on the Championship Tour, which is sure to be one of the highlights of the spring concert season. Find a date near you. 

Further Listening: If it's my turn to make dinner, I might throw on #1 by Guy One, the first album this Ghanaian singer and bandleader has made outside of a remote corner of his country. His form of music is called Frafra, but this is "Frafra made in Berlin," where it was produced by Max Weissenfeldt, who's known for his work with everyone from Jimi Tenor (Finland) to Alemayehu Eshete (Ethiopia). This translates into songs that start in a modest, even disjointed, fashion before developing into dense, world-beating grooves that you wish would never end. Everything You Do, You Do For Yourself is the only song with English lyrics, but it’s really about the interaction between Guy and the backing singers, as they find new ways to call and respond while the drums, horns and keyboards combine into a tasty stew. Vortex by Wayne Escoffery is the tenor sax player's most furiously involving album yet, fueled by his rage at the direction of this country after the 2016 election. Backed by a stellar group (David Kikoski - piano, Ugonna Okegwo - bass, and Ralph Peterson, Jr. - drums, plus a few guests) and playing mostly original tunes, Escoffery proves that if you're passionate enough you can create mind-blowing jazz while still firmly in the post-bop mainstream. Who’s cooking now?

After Dinner

Ethan Woods - Mossing Around As I learned at the record release show for this vinyl-only EP, Woods has a bit of a following. I had only known him as someone who sang backup with Ocean Music on occasion, but he filled the room at C'mon Everybody with enthusiastic fans, who snapped up every last copy of the three-song 10 inch. Woods, who also performs as Rokenri, is definitely a singular presence, creating a mood that is alternately wacky and spiritual, spinning tales backed by his guitar, Aaron Smith's laptop, and Alice Tolan-Mee's keyboard and violin. Call it "chamber-freak-folk-tronica," if you must call it something. The EP perfectly replicates the atmosphere as it was all caught live on a field recorder by Richard Aufrichtig, who also put it out on his King Of Truth Records. At the moment, my favorite song on the EP is Alone, with a deeply meditative groove that affects my breathing and slows me down, just the thing for the end of the day. 

We usually catch up on TV after dinner, but Mossing Around is the perfect length for that space where we're finishing up what needs to get done before we crank up Netflix or whatever. I wish you could hear it (maybe I should host a listening party!), but the best thing I can say is to keep an eye on Woods as his next full-length album, entitled Burnout, will be out sometime in 2018 - and presumably with wider availability. Maybe some of these songs will be reprised there, but either way it's bound to be interesting!

How's your 2018 going so far, musically speaking? Let me know what you're listening to and keep up everything I'm paying attention to by following one or all of the playlists below.

Of Note In 2018 Playlists
Of Note In 2018 - Includes all the tracks in the genre-specific lists
Of Note In 2018 (Classical)
Of Note In 2018 (Electronic)
Of Note In 2018 (Hip Hop, R&B & Reggae)
Of Note In 2018 (Rock, Folk, Etc.)
Of Note In 2018 (Reissues)

The 2017 Archive
2017 Archive (Of Note)
2017 Archive (Classical)
2017 Archive (Electronic)
2017 Archive (Hip Hop, R&B & Reggae)
2017 Archive (Rock, Folk, Etc.)
2017 Archive (Reissues)

Wordless Music Plays Barry Lyndon

 

For years, I've been getting intriguing emails from Wordless Music detailing their different projects, which always include a few concerts where they accompany a film screening with a live performance of the soundtrack. This has become a popular sideline for the New York Philharmonic and other orchestras as well, creating a new (read: younger) audience for some graying institutions. 

I was there back in 1981 when Abel Gance's monumental silent film Napoleon was restored and shown at Radio City Music Hall with a live score composed and conducted by Carmine Coppola. It was shattering and intense experience, and set a very high bar for this sort of thing. More recently, we went to see Frankenstein at the United Palace Theater with an improvised soundtrack played by guitarist Gary Lucas, an event that was suboptimal in nearly every way. It was bad enough to make me a little gun shy. Partly for that reason, while I'm often attracted to Wordless Music's concepts, they tend to hover just below the line where interest becomes commitment. 

But when they announced Barry Lyndon with a live score, there was no question we would have to go. I was lucky enough to see Stanley Kubrick's masterful period piece when it opened (yes, again at Radio City Music Hall) and I was immediately enraptured. Since I was only 10 or 11, there were certainly nuances I missed, but I was enthralled by Kubrick's evocation of a slightly alien past filled with all-too-human characters. Years later, I showed it to my wife and her reaction was identical. We also became obsessed with the music, some of which I tracked down piecemeal, as the Oscar-winning soundtrack was out of print at the dawn of the CD era (it is once again, but you can listen on YouTube or buy a used copy). I finally found it on vinyl and we were able to enjoy all the music as it was assembled by Leonard Rosenman for the film. It became a soundtrack to our own lives for a while.

As this was our first Wordless Music experience, we were confronted by sticker shock: they charge top dollar ($70 - $100) for tickets. Nevertheless, we took the plunge and reserved seats. Saturday night found us driving out to Flatbush where the beautifully restored King's Theater is located. We were coming from a family gathering on Long Island, which is why we used our car for what was literally a trip down memory lane. We found Flatbush to be the same riotous neighborhood it was when we lived there over 20 years ago, still pulsing to the beat of blaring dancehall reggae and busy with street vendors, and we felt at home even though it had been a long time. 

The municipal parking lot described in the email from Wordless Music was either closed or beyond my ken, but we lucked into a space on the street. While circling we had noticed an IHOP, which suited our mood more than the jerk chicken or Dominican cuisine that can be found on every corner. The cavernous and seemingly brand new restaurant was nearly empty so service was fast and breakfast for dinner was as delicious as ever. 

As instructed, we got to the King's Theater nearly an hour early. There was a line down the block - but that was for ticket pickup and I had ours on my iPhone so we went right in (it's like EZ Pass: why doesn't everyone do it?). The website having prepared us for a security checkpoint of nearly airport-level stringency, we emptied our pockets and walked through the scanner before taking in the stunning scale and detail of the restored theater. 

There was an excited hum in the lobby as people availed themselves of the many bars scattered around, which sold not only top-shelf liquor but candy and high-end snacks, including wrap sandwiches that would have been handy if we hadn't had time for dinner. We made our way to our seats, assisted by the helpful ushers, and sat down. The theater space was exactly what the lobby promised, with whimsical caryatids and elaborate gilded decor. 

The little program book was well-printed and designed, with gorgeous stills from the movie and some background information. I noted many familiar names in the orchestra and realized that Wordless was working with some of the best musicians in the city. I read the whole thing cover to cover while my wife Googled historical information on the theater, which originally opened in 1929. Before we knew it, it was 8:30 and the film hadn't started yet. The natives were getting restless, clapping in their seats, until there was an announcement around 8:45 that went something like this: "Welcome to the historic King's Theater. Due to unprecedented demand at the box office, we have to delay the start of our show as everyone gets to their seats. Please be patient." I will be more respectful of your time and say no more - except to call "bullshit" and note that the movie started over an hour late, which is a little cruel considering it's three and a half hours long. 

As soon as Ryan McAdams, the conductor, raised his baton, I blew any annoyance away and let myself luxuriate in Kubrick's exquisite vision of Thackeray's novel. Hearing the opening chords of Handel's Saraband helped, of course, as did seeing the spectacular digital projection of the remastered film. Seeing Barry Lyndon this far removed from when it was made brought home the remarkable restraint practiced by Kubrick and his production designer, Ken Adam, which kept them from making a movie that just looked like the 1970's. The candle-lit cinematography by John Alcott is second-to-none and adds intimacy to even the grandest interior shots. Ulla-Britt Söderlund and Milena Canonero, the costumers, are also to be commended for not going all Yves St. Laurent on the 18th century. They got a hearty round of applause at the end but I was the only person who clapped for Adam - like any James Bond fan, I know that he was one of the best ever at his craft. Alcott, Adam, Söderlund and Canonero all won Oscars for their incredible work.

The performance of the music was similarly flawless and perfectly cued to the projection (the dialogue, however, was only 99.5% in sync - another minor quibble). While Rosenman's work on the soundtrack was remarkable, I would venture to say that 40 years of evolution in the performance style of 18th century music was only to the benefit of Kubrick's conception, with a dryer, less ornamental approach enhancing Thackeray's gimlet-eyed but compassionate view of Redmond Barry's triumphs and travails. The piano trio (Timo Andres, Pauline Kim Harris, and Clarice Jensen) deserves special mention - I would love to hear them perform all of Schubert's Opus 100. The Irish folk musicians jumped into the traditional music, originally played by The Chieftains, fearlessly and with both feet, and tenor Nils Neubert's vocal turn in Paisello's Cavatina was a small wonder. 

The event further proved that Barry Lyndon is one of the greatest films of all time. It is the platonic ideal for how to adapt a novel with a strong narrative voice, an Olympus that is seldom scaled and never summited, and, even with the slight mishaps, Wordless Music did it proud service. I really can't say enough good things about it - it must be seen to be believed, preferably on a big screen. So, I will gladly remain on Wordless Music's mailing list and hope that next time the whole experience is as finely calibrated as the magnificent musical performance. 

"It was in the reign of George III that the aforesaid personages lived and quarreled; good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor they are all equal now."

-William Makepeace Thackeray

You may also enjoy:
Kenyon Hopkins At 101: Putting Sound To Sight

Record Fair Thoughts

"Rock'n'roll's a loser's game/It mesmerizes and I can't explain." - Ballad of Mott the Hoople (26th March 1972, Zurich)

The sheer con artistry of the music biz is never more present than at a record fair. Bands promoted as the next big thing fill the dollar bins while great music that never got its due is lovingly traded for big bucks. The former represents the bad investments of record labels, the latter the missed opportunities. One can't help becoming a bit of a skeptic after living a life in music, whether you're onstage, like Ian Hunter singing the words quoted above, or in the crowd, searching for greatness.

Of course, if you're going to talk about music industry charlatans, one would have to touch on used record dealers themselves. Sure there are books that try to rationalize pricing, but dealers know they can charge almost anything they want to the right customer - the one who just has to have whatever it is they've got. Everyone who has ever sold a record to a shop for a dollar and seen it hanging in the window for $20 knows what I mean. Most of them, though, are music lovers and crucial stewards of our recorded legacy.

These are the kind of thoughts I had early on at the WFMU record fair, but it has such a nice vibe and benefits a great local radio station so they were fleeting. They only returned when I was flipping through a bin and realized it was completely unchanged since the last WFMU event. Those Lee Dorsey CD's are still overpriced, thank you very much. Re-price, rearrange - do something to respect the long memories of music fans! Granted, I'm not a vinyl fetishist and I'm always on the hunt for the new so it's easy for me to be selective at an event like this. But I'm also so unreasonable about music that I could spend a few hours flipping through crates and listening to people rhapsodize about their finds without even buying anything and call it a day well spent.

The first vendor I hit, however, made me long for a sugar daddy. I could've dropped a $1,000 on box sets in a few minutes: Harry Nilsson, Bill Nelson, Leonard Cohen, Wilson Pickett, Miles Davis - all in perfect condition or sealed. Most of them were only minimally marked down, it's true, but the magnetism of such a haul was undeniable. He also had practically every issue of Ace records, the excellent British reissue label. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time immersing myself in his stock. I didn't buy anything at first as I wanted to make the full circuit, but I returned later for Miles Davis Gil Evans: The Complete Columbia Studio Recordings - a six CD set for $30 and one of the few Miles boxes I don't already have.

My first trek around the enormous interior of the 69th Regiment Armory on 26th and Lexington was entirely focused on CD's in fact, but I only came up with one other object of desire: George Harrison's posthumous final album, Brainwashed. The reviews were always good for this one and you can't listen on Spotify (although a couple of people have put the full album on YouTube), so I thought $4 was well worth it for the full experience. George had his off moments but he's been my second-favorite Beatle since hearing the dark tones of Don't Bother Me and the brilliantly bitter Taxman as a child.

Going on the last day of the fair can be wise - sure things may be picked over, but people are also willing to deal. On my last go round at the armory, I got sucked by C.J. & Co.'s Devil's Gun album sticking out of a crate accompanied by the words, "Everything's $5 - and if you buy a few, I'll lower the price." The C.J. & Co. Record, featuring the classic title cut, was in good shape and is an out of print Dennis Coffey production so that stayed in my hot hands as I flipped through rest of the stock. Swathes of fantastic Philly soul, early disco and 70's funk kept me going. I struck gold with a sealed copy of Disco Connection by The Isaac Hayes Movement and, in a limited crate of soundtracks, an admittedly ratty copy of Curtis Mayfield's hard to find Claudine, featuring Gladys Knight & The Pips.

The final bin I looked at was 50's rock & roll. I pretty much have most of what I want in that area but I could not resist the album of "Fox Trots with Vocal Chorus by Bill Haley" simply called Rock Around The Clock. I was sold by the beautiful cover and the fact that I recently learned that my son has yet to hear that song. Also re-reading the quixotic tale of Haley in both Bob Stanley's Yeah Yeah Yeah and Mark Lewisohn's Tune In made me think this would be the perfect Haley record to have, instead of a slavishly complete clinically mastered CD reissue. Some music still needs a little smoke and mirrors to get across - or noisy grooves - and for all my sometimes cynical views, I'm always willing to fall in love all over again. Especially for the right price, which turned out to be $15 for all four records. See you at the next fair!

Kenyon Hopkins At 101: Putting Sound To Sight

Why does some music just FIT? When I first heard the music of Kenyon Hopkins on Spinning On Air (WNYC), it was so perfect that I thought host David Garland was making it up. In his day, Hopkins was a go-to soundtrack composer, fitting sound to sight with a keen eye to the visual and psychological elements in the movies he worked on. In his heyday, he was nearly as acclaimed and well-known as legends like Henry Mancini and Ennio Morricone and his dark, jazzy and carefully composed sounds were used in hit films like Baby Doll and The Hustler, as well as many that are forgotten today such as The Yellow Canary and Mr. Buddwing. He did fantastic work on the one remarkable season of East Side West Side, which starred George C. Scott as a crusading social worker and also featured Cicely Tyson in her first major role.

He also released a string of "sound tours," instrumental albums and collections of storytelling sound effects (Panic, Shock and Nightmare), often in partnership with Creed Taylor. He ended his career as music director for CBS Television - you can catch his name in the end-credits of The Odd Couple - but was nearly forgotten after his death. Most of his records are still out of print. His music lives on in my life, however, and has been an integral part of me since I heard those first notes almost 25 years ago.

Take a few moments on his 101st birthday to immerse yourself in the sound world of a lost American master.