Twittering Machines

The Happy Moog!

Listen to “March of the Martians”
(it’s excellent, perky and o-so-moogie!)

Reader Greg Moon tells us about finding the fun between the cracks:

Life was tough for me as a kid, circa 1972; my allowance was only 75 cents a week, and the records on sale in the local department stores went for $6.99 ($7.99 for the cassettes and 8-track tapes). I knew (and I mean KNEW) that what I really wanted was to build up a great music library. I’d seen photos of people with thousands of records in magazines and was sure that one day that would be me. (Actually, now I’m the guy with thousands of CDs instead, which is still pretty great, but it’s not the same) So I had to rely on getting relatives to buy records for me. With visions of finally being able to hear what bands like The Mothers Of Invention and Pink Floyd and Yes and King Crimson actually sounded like (we only had an AM radio, so I had no direct exposure beyond fetishizing the album covers in the stores) I let it be known that what I needed for birthday and Christmas presents were records and lots of ‘em.

Unfortunately, I was (and still am) the only one in my family with ANY interest in music. So, instead of the “real” albums I so coveted, what I began to receive over the next few years was bargain-basement junk. Nothing by anyone I had ever heard of or on any record labels I had ever heard of, but anything they could find in corner stores with a price tag of $0.99 or less. If there’s a 9-year old kid out there who really wants to listen to “CHFI Presents The Luxury Sound Of Candlelight And Wine” or “The Groovy Hits Of Today Played By The 101 Strings” I don’t want to meet him. But hidden amongst the depressing dross was ‘The Happy Moog!’ – I was fascinated by this one, if only because there was no artist credit; it actually had original songs but was only marketed by the instrument, not by a band name or even a person. Was this a real album by actual people or was it some kind of promotional item to sell the Moog through music stores?

By 1975 I’d talked my parents into raising my allowance to a whopping $2, which meant that I could save up and start buying real albums for myself. Especially once I discovered that there were better record stores downtown. (and thank the good lord for the growing popularity of cutout bins as the decade progressed) I didn’t have to rely on the record “section” of department stores. Kraftwerk, at first. And that led to more hardcore stuff like Stockhausen and Xenakis. Then Ferrari and Henri and Parmegiani. Then onto Braxton and John Cage and Evan Parker and Miles. You can just imagine how popular I was in junior high.

At the tender age of 9, my worldview was pretty narrow. ‘The Happy Moog!’ (was that exclamation point really necessary?) was an unexpected surprise. I began to rethink my assumptions about “real” records and started to find the fun between the cracks. I don’t recall the album being all THAT great, to be honest, but it lit the spark that would cause me to search out albums that were not for sale in major record stores, or on major labels, or were promoted on the radio or through popular magazines. It put me on a far more interesting path and, for that, it’ll always have some emotional resonance.

~ Greg Moon

Share your childhood vinyl memories by sending me an email with the record title, a description and anything you’d like to say about it and I’ll post it here as part of the Childhood Vinyl Memories series.

My grandparents on my father’s side had a summer home at, and eventually retired to, the Jersey Shore. This was before its most recent incarnation as a pen for mindless, self-absorbed nitwits whose raison d’être appears to be too much hair product and tanning. This was also back when working-class people, my grandfather was a carpenter, could actually afford a summer home.

My grandfather along with a bunch of ‘cousins’ (we called actual cousins cousins no matter the distance from 1st as well as close family friends) bought up nearly one block of vacant land, imagine when there was such a thing at the Jersey Shore, on 1st Avenue in Ortley Beach and together they built their summer homes.

this isn’t the actual block but I took this picture years later because it reminded me of that time

When we weren’t on the beach, we were always on the beach unless it was raining, we would hang out behind the row of cousin’s homes in the strip of adjacent sandy backyards and play. Some of the kids were older – I was probably around 6 or 7 playing with teenagers – so their form of play was different from mine. One rainy day one of the Rogers boys had setup his portable record player on their sightly raised cement deck and was giving a concert. He was recruiting for an all-boy band and the pickings were slim so I ended up as the guitar player – my guitar was a mop. The Roger’s boy, I thought he was so cool mainly because he was a teenager, put on a record and we played along as if we were Herman’s Hermits playing “Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got A Lovely Daughter”.

I remember initially feeling nervous and kinda confused – I was given strict instructions on how to pretend-play the mop convincingly but why would I want to? I wondered – and then feeling elated as the girls watched the boys play but they cheered for real. I loved that jangly muted rag-stuffed guitar sound and the heavily accented Peter Noone singing out to Mrs Brown about her lovely daughter. I don’t recall how many times we repeated that 45 (many is my best guess) but I do recall feeling the stirrings of something I didn’t yet understand but I did understand that music was its soundtrack.

To this day I can play a mean mop (here’s a taste of my summers at the beach when I got a bit older).

Share your childhood vinyl memories by sending me an email with the record title, a description and anything you’d like to say about it and I’ll post it here as part of the Childhood Vinyl Memories series.

Listen to Shipwrecked on Planet X
(it’s excellent!)

Twittering Machines reader Robert Browne recently sent me a very interesting and thought-provoking email (this being one of many from Robert):

The attached zip file is an audio file and image file of one of my childhood favorite pieces of vinyl. It’s Rocky Jones, Space Ranger – Shipwrecked on Planet X. Found it on an internet search. Originally 78 rpm it’s only 6:31 long. My copy is long gone but I remember it well.

Perhaps a piece in Twittering Machines on childhood vinyl memories would be a nice addition?

I think this is a wonderful idea and I love Robert’s inaugural entry. Please share your childhood vinyl memories by sending me an email with the record title, a description and anything you’d like to say about it and I’ll post it here as part of the Childhood Vinyl Memories series.

Here’s some more from Robert:

I think the Rocky Jones record came to me due to my father’s interest in Sci-Fi writing. My early musical memories via my father were Coleman Hawkins (he owned just about every recording the Hawk played on), Prez Prado and Raymond Scott.

Rocket ships, cocktails, jazz and mambo! Sounds like a great childhood and a great adulthood. Thanks Robert!