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Time for a little fun. Relax your brain. Get out your old LP's. (You hopefully haven't rendered them hostages in boxes in your basement) Nothing like that warm "needle in a groove" sound.
Turntable all dusted off? Moonrock needle safely housed in that Shure cartridge? Tubes a-glow inside your amplifier? Pre-amp engaged? S.E.A. Graphic Equalizer set for aural bliss? Let us begin. Oh, wait a minute, I'm feeling a little dyslexic…or should I say a tad anagramic. I'll try to suggest a few bands from the 60's/70's era, but I may have some trouble spelling them out properly. Don't worry, I'll probably come to my senses during this article and be able to help you make some sense of all this nonsense.
O.K. Push the power button, grab the first album. Hmmm, perhaps a little something to set the mood…what might work?
Ah
yes…Her Tune Vest
(1) Plays nicely, kinda' spooky, kinda' stormy. An instrumental landscape to take us back to the 60's.
Let's get our toes-a-tapping.
A Huge Show
Set
(2) ought to get us laughing and singing along.
At this time I'll abate your confused state. If a band's name usually starts with The, I'll include it in the anagram. So far we've encountered
The Ventures (1) and moved quickly into
The Guess Who
(2). Are you up to the challenge? Sure? Alright, let us proceed.
Let's take American Woman off the rubber plate and try some
Prelude Pep
(3). Just like old times. I didn't know I could scream along so well, I must sound like some kind of speed king.
What next? Something a tad darker, perhaps.
Back Bath Slab (4) should hearken the gods of heavy metal. I could enjoy it better if I just didn't feel so damned paranoid.
O.K. enough of the wailing and moaning.
Jet Roll Hut (5) puts just the right amount of classical influence into their social meanderings. If only my parents weren't thick as a brick, they'd probably have embraced this band along with me, way back when.
I'm feeling pumped, now. Perhaps some music from the
Ray Fern Estate (6) will keep my juices flowing. Or is it
A Neat Ferry Set (7) that I remember them as? I'll have to ask my buddy Alvin Lee, he's got a good memory.
Now for the classics. The solid unwavering sounds of a
Stern English Tool (8) always captured my fancy. My mom remembers them better as
Still The Negro Son (9) and my dad always commented that their
Tone Is Strong Hell
(10). Oh well, let the
Seething Stroll On (11) as we realize that they are
No Gentle Sloth, Sir
(12). Place them back in their
Singleton Holster (13) and later on we'll see the glimmer in the twins.
Dave, Fill A Gun (14) follows on the play list, kind of sticky sweet, perhaps we should set up
A Village Fund (15) for them before they become
A Fungal Devil
(16).
Seller Nor A Madman Keep (17)
off my turntable. However, I think I'll try their recipe for brain salad at dinner tonight.
I'm a tad exhausted now. I'll play something which takes a great deal of time; it'll allow me to kick back and do nothing for 17:05. I know
It Often Blurry (18) if I listen to the 18:55 live version, but as long as they are singing about
Liberty Not Fur
(19), I will remain in my garden of Eden.
There, it's over. I'm remembering my early teenage romances which now seem so far away. I'll listen as
Ink Go Clear (20) in my memory.
On Cake Girl
(21), I urge as the train rumbles by, its locomotion reminding me of when me and
Gloria Neck (22) …so very far away. I hold a
Photo To Helmet (23) and remember all the young dudes who were competing for the girls' attention. I shed a tear as I make a
Mad Panama Pass
(24), dreaming about California and all she had to offer. I'd like to find that girl again but I'm not a gambling man, so it's a
Bid We Avoid
(25), and besides, it's been five years since I knew where she went; what a surprise it would be. I would visit
A Probe Gym (26)
but I'm not too familiar with that music, and besides, the album sat in the sun too long and has shriveled into a raisin. It's not that I'm fearing
A Torn Ass Canal
(27), but I've got to change my evil ways. All these memories quickly dissipate when my black dog wanders into my music room, just as I was about to swallow my
Deep Zen Pill
(28). My dog's fur is so dark that it must
Be The Slate
(29). Then I realize it's not a black dog, rather, it's a black bird singing in the dead of night. Looks like there's some food in the kitchen, on the
Table He Set (30) … yum yum, it appears to be a savoy truffle.
My stack of records is getting thin; with
Every Less Lip (31) I sneer at what's left. It leaves me feeling all shook up. I call my dog back into the music room and
I Jinx Him Red
(32). Funny, he looks good as a red dog and I call to him, "hey Joe, c'mon over here you crazy mutt. Are you experienced at changing records?" I ask him. He seems to understand and expertly withdraws an album from it's sleeve.
"Well," I say "I've got the "know", you must have
The How
(33)." Who would have thought that this crazy dog would like music from my generation?
I just can't remember who number 33 is. It's too confusing, I'll have to go ask my sons. The kids are alright, they'll be able to tell me…"Oh Pete, Roger, John, Keith…any idea how to unscramble The How ?
I'll let you know how I made out, unless I can't explain…………………'Til next time…Fish |
