B&W Covers a Multitude of Mediocre Music

Here are a couple of my favorite albums, for reasons having absolutely nothing to do with the music on the records. I love me a good B&W cover.

U2's War (1983)-- music could be better. Cover conveys the violence-innocence dichotomy:






Peter Gabriel: II ("Scratch") (1978): Fun if unremarkable music, rather unlike later material. To be honest, I only bought it for the cover. So superficial.

I wish I could have 1/8 of the cool. And the 3/4 sleeve-length dickies jacket.




This *should* be the cover of a bad-ass hard-hitting barnstormer of an album. But one takes what one gets.

I think I found my next tattoo on a John Cougar album... is that a problem?

I've been looking for a new tattoo for a long time. I was thinking maybe some religious imagery, or maybe a Celtic cross or Pictish symbol to reflect my studies.

But then I bought this classic piece of Americana...



and I pulled out the album to find this beauty:



I mean if that doesn't say, "Damn, I'm really into Scotland," then I don't know what does. Even the mountains are tartan.

Donovan - Barabajagal (1969)

I could spend pages pondering the ironies, complexities, and solipsistic absurdity of blogging, and get all coy and self-depricating, but I figured it'd be best to just jump right in.

I started collecting records largely by circumstance. Circumstances dictated that my dad didn't exactly need his records anymore (they only allow 1 carry-on item in heaven these days...budget cuts). So some time ago I found myself carrying the seeds of my still-paltry record collection on an airplane, accompanied by a similarly-unused turntable. After listening to Dad's 4 Santana albums one too many times, I discovered much to my delight just how affordable and accessible buying my own LP's is. I also discovered that my generally miserable suburban neighborhood had one of the city's best record shops hidden away in a strip mall across the street. Sweet.

My first album purchase was several years in coming-- I was listening to the "If it's not Scottish, it's CRAP!" stream on Accuradio and kept hearing these great songs that were worlds apart in style but still from the same artist. Over and over I'd flip over to look at who I was listening to, and it was always the same guy and always the same album.

So as soon as I discovered the record store I made a bee-line for the D section, and there it was, just waiting for me to love. Donovan's Barabajagal (1969) now holds the top spot in my record collection. And my heart (aaawww).



Side 1

• Barabajagal (with the Jeff Beck Group, Lesley and Madeleine): AKA "Love is Hot." Head-bobbing shuffle beat, great piano line. Listen to it once and "Koo koo koo koo barabajagal" will make you shuffle your feet every time you think of it.
  
• Superlungs My Supergirl: Reminds me (anachronistically) of Sufjan Steven's Supersexywoman. Dirty and sweet.
• Where is She:Delicate late-sixties strummyness.
• Happiness Runs: The namesake for my blog. The single most therapeutic song on earth, it'll either make you fall asleep or cry quietly with joy. Either response is acceptable. I have every intention of singing this song to my kids at bed time.
• I love my shirt: I also have every intention of singing this to my kids at play time, or when they're getting dressed, or generally anytime. This song typifies why I love this album-- it's basically all kids music.

Side 2

• Love Song: Given their shared Scottish roots, it's no surprise that Belle and Sebastian sound basically just like this song. But then the song takes a turn and breaks into this great instrumental jam with a really funky, almost motown feel. Brilliant.
• To Susan on the West Coast Waiting: ("from Andy in Vietnam fighting..."). Delicate vocals, mini-organ support, and lyrics that sort of just pass you by until you stop, listen, and are moved. I'm surprised it wasn't uh... "huger" in its day, but there were a lot of protest songs to compete with.
• Atlantis: So I guess this song was supposed to be the big hit on this album... it's fantastic, don't get me wrong, but it's perhaps the only song on the album that takes itself too seriously. It's far out in the standard late 60's way, and the chorus has a sort of grand "Let It Be" quality to it. Listen to the story closely to discover that it doesn't take itself as seriously as it sounds.
  
• Trudi (with the Jeff Beck Group, Lesley and Madeleine): Fun cadence, great Jeff Beck drumbeat, same funk influence as Barabajagal.
  
• Pamela Jo: I want to get drunk just so I can sing along to this song with all my drunk friends. Alternately, I could don my kermit voice and sing along with my yet to be born children mentioned above. It's pretty fun, try it at home with a ukulele.

This album is priceless for its variety. Some albums have that one song that you love (rarely the single) and the rest of it's trash. Every song on this album is perfect for its own reasons. I've got all of dad's only Sesame Street albums, but I'd prefer this one to those any day if my kids want to jump around and be musical. Great side-to-side balance with the classic drinking song finale. Flawless.