Falcon Crest

Here's two majestic birds from that crate o' killer Doo-Wop from several months back. Weird, cause neither of these songs are particularly Doo-Wopy (Doo-Wopish!?) and are pretty much exceptions to the rule. In fact, one is a devistating blues rocker (59') w/ Ax effects in full, um, effect, whilst the Big-Wheel cut is about as close as I get to poppy (Poppish!?) soul (67') without pinchin' my nose closed and throwing up in my mouth a little bit (Better than somebody elses).

Fact: these Falcons are the same band, though with some decidedly incestious member-swappin', including Wilson 'The Pick" Pickett and Eddie "Knock on Wood" Floyd. Incidentally, listen for the chops of Lu Pine's 'Ohio Untouchables' (Pre Ohio Players) roundin' out the sound on the first first cut.

Swim - Falcons

I Can't Help It - Falcons

Bo Diddley & 'Crack': The Straight Dope

Hey all. Regular non-denominational posting will begin forthwith, but first let me get a couple of requests out of the way. First, I finally got around to typin’ up a big wordy track list for the BftRB Presents: Revenge of “Things That Go 1-4-5 in the Night” Mix. Give it a gander and put a name to your favorite tune's fractured face. Second, I’ve included, as promised, the flipside to both the Yo Yo’s Raven disc, titled ‘Crack In My Wall’ as well as the really cool flip to the ‘Trance’ by Count Drac; a filthy-ass cover of Bo Diddley’s ‘Bo Diddley’. So in lieu of diddlin’ yourselves…

Crack in My Wall – Yo Yo's

Hey Bo Diddley – Count Drac

Trance Music

Gonna keep this one brief on account of the fact that I gotta get my bed-roll packed and my boney ass on the road for Mr. Mike Decay’s 3rd Annual Haunted New-England Road trip! (Ghosts, lock up your ghouls!). In between arcane rituals @ Lovecraft’s grave and pissing off Lizzie Borden’s ghost I’m sure they’ll be lot to discuss, though I should preface that w/ the fact that I am a natural born skeptic (See: pragmatist) and your average speck o’ dust / lens flair does not a ghost make. So, even though I will be leaving the E.M.F. detector in the toolbox, I will be taking lots of pictures and should I happen to bump into those things which have been known to go bump in the night, you’ll be the first to know.

In the interim, here’s a little ‘Trance Music’ to keep you under my thrall until I return. Don’t bother askin’ about the particulars because neither I, nor anyone else who digs this disc seems to have any copy on it. The only thing I can tell you is that it is one of the wildest tracks my tin ears have ever heard and it is twice as frightening as any garbled E.V.P.

Trance - Count Drac

Variations of a Theme: Take Thy Beak From Out My Blog!

Yes. It’s that time again! Time for BFtRB’s Halloween Spectacular (Suffer baby)! Normally I’d be eatin’ crow at this point of the day, but I opted to clear my plate for some stately Raven action. Dig. Edgar Allen Poe died much like he lived – Drunk in a gutter in Baltimore with more opium in his system than a Chinese Bangtail. Good on him as I have occasionally drank @ Baltimore’s Side-Bar Tavern and can attest to the fact that if the rats scamperin’ around the back alley don’t get you then the ‘Natty Bo’ will. Still, as far as ways of checkin’ out goes, it ain’t too bad for the legacy…oh, and I guess he also wrote some stuff to.



Dig the Raven, for instance. Not my favorite (That would be Masque of the Red Death), but an obstinate little poem that refuses to die, much like the titular character of Lenore (Tis the wind, and nothing more).

It really is no wonder, given the poems longevity that the Raven would come to perch upon popular music in similar fashion; an expedient way to jibb up a rhythmically sound song with little effort - which leads me to the NJ’s Glass Prism.



Much like the Electric Prune did w/ Psychedelic Mass, the Glass Prism managed to shave some time off their writing schedule by penning a concept album comprised entirely of POEms, of which the Raven naturally finds it way as the title track. Yeah, it’s a little slice o’ melodrama, but the corners are still sharp enough to get bent on. RCA records ‘Poe for Moderns’ pulls much the same trick, though it champions a much more 50's beat feel as opposed to the ‘Prisms’ circa 74' psychedelic chicanery.

The real money in this trifecta, however, is Brooklyn NYs the Yo Yos (yeah, its a stupid name) who manage to crank out a decidedly heavier take on the same Raven narrative, though the flip, ‘Crack In the Wall’ ain’t nothing to sneeze at neither, especially when one considers the thinly veiled references to ‘Fall of the House of Usher’ (Is it just me?).




Far from fallin, I got a bucket full of Halloween junk comin’ your way the entire month of October, cracks and all…and I don’t nary mind all the noise. Until then…

The Raven - Yo Yo's

The Raven - Glass Prism

The Raven - Buddy Morrow Orchestra

Bonus: He's a weird radio promotional spot for Pittsburgh Paints w/ a particular emphasis on POE. Dig.

...Smell My Feet...

Well, well, well... been gettin' a lot of copy concerning the reposting of certain 'Auditory Materials' from last Halloween. And while I appreciate the business, here's the thing, part of my absence has been due to the general apathy that accompanies divshare summarily deleting a bunch of my audio files, which with the destruction of my last laptop, are all but gone the way of the dodo bird. Sucks to be sure, but the self- imposed exile has seen many new / old p.o.s. records come across my desk, not to mention a 4th quarter 'Hail Mary' in the form of my old cell phone which just so happens to contain some of last years Halloween input. Download em' while you can before divshare has another crisis of conscience, or I get another cease and desist order from a washed up ax-hanger w/ delusions of grandeur. And stay tuned for the 3rd annual BFTRB Halloween Spectacular! It's gonna be killer!

BFTRB Presents: Cha Cha Challoween!

BFTRB Presents: Even A Mix That is Pure of Hearts and Says It's Prayers By Night Will Become a Wolf When the Wolfsbane Blooms, and the Autumn Moon is Bright.

BFTRB Presents: She's A Haunted Beatty Boop!

Revenge: A Dish Best Served Cold (and w/ Cheese)

I’m takin’ this opportunity to shine a light in my little corner of internet sky (Be it ever so humble). One-Hundred thousand hits might seem like a drop in the bucket, especially in a place where information flows like so much blood and attracts just as many rubberneckers as it does flies to the edges of its sticky imbruement, but it’s a distinction I’ll wear w/ pride. If I could turn just one noggin upside down w/ an unknown, or unknowable recording thanks to my efforts, than it is worth a thousand times a thousand computer crashes and just as many unwarranted political entanglement (I’m always right- just for future reference).

Now, if psychologists are to be believed, then we are not born bad, we are, however, every last one of us born square, and as such, we each have to start from square one.

It’s precisely for this reason that I’m highlighting – what is in my humble opinion- the greatest record ever pressed - a record which blew my mind like a cherry-bomb in a trash bin at a time where I was branching off from what I understood music to be (Totally wrong, by the by), and into a miasma of detritus popular critics would exemplify as everything music should NOT be. The record is the Rat’s Revenge; the reasons it strikes a chord, albeit, slightly out of tune, are myriad.



First, the Rats Revenge is not so much a song, as it is a meandering jam; loose in a way that seems juvenile, yet w/ the sincerity that only some wet-behind the ears 16 year old could hope to muster up. Second, Rat’s is completely spontaneous in it’s arrangement; one gets the feeling even the Rat’s themselves don’t quite know where this shit is going’, even knowing full well where this shit has been. Third, as I am a sucker for anything with a pt 2, these bookends are actually on par w/ each other, continuing the narrative (Such as it is) in lieu of just dumpin’ a slightly tweaked DUB track on the flip.

As for the Rats themselves? Word on the street places the Rats in Ohio circa 66’. Word on Tim Warren’s liner notes for BFTG vol 1 places them in the studio where, as the sensational combo the Decades, they recorded the instro classic ‘Strange Worlds’. Would that that had been enough, Mystics producer Terry Rose decided to hip the Decades to a lucrative proposition: Being that the beach party films staring Frankie Avalon & Annette Funichello were so popular, and a big part of that popularity is thanks to their antagonist, Erik Von Zipper (the late Harvey Lembeck) and his motorcycle gang, the Rats, how could a song by the Rats, about the rats, not sell a million copies? The result: after several dismal takes, the band was cautioned not to be so ridged and just have fun with the track…and thus the Rats Revenge was born. Needless to say, the disc sunk like a stone, was disavowed by the band and remains a cult classic to this day, despite the fact that “Most of the 500 copies pressed ended up in a garbage dump in Kent Ohio” …which is right where I come in…square one.

As a kid burned out on punk and ripe for some non-sensical, non-proselytizing R ‘N’ R, Rats revenge is everything I wanted out of a disc; stupid, crude and w/ absolutely no social message or redeeming value…kinda like this blog and it’s owner. SUPERGORILLA!!!

He’s to a Hundred Thousand more! Salute!

Rat’s Revenge pt 1 – Rats

Rat’s Revenge pt 2 - Rats

P.S. Fuck the Golden Pelicans!

Hi-Fi for Small Fry

“I want Candy”

Really, not so much anymore. They say your tastes change as you get older, and they may be right. Anyone who knows me knows I crave to most ridiculous brands of candy. Be they liquid in form, sour, tongue transmogrifying or of the gummy variety, I’m all over them- or, at least I was. These days my pallet has changed, some would argue, for the better. That doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in some auditory sugar-lumps on occasion, especially when I can’t make it to the local ‘Five Below’ for my requisite stock of Cherry Clans and Laffy Taffy (Shitty jokes not withstanding).




Note: I don’t give a fuck what Ferrera Pan calls em’ these days. They are still Cherry Clans to me)

Here we have the Candy Men, not to be confused w/ the Candy Men or the Candy Men. Now, before you jump all over my shit w/ the obligatory “But, Peter Pan Records sux” spiel, know that under any other circumstances I would agree w/ you, the majority of ‘Pan’s’ output being barely listenable kiddie dreck. But as well known collector and all around solid sender ‘Vinyl Dog’ (Co Chair of the Legendary Highland Park Record Sale) told me whilst trying to entice a trade for some Bollywood soundtracks I scammed outa the Newark Salvation Army, this ‘Pan’ track is actually pretty awesome and worth the switch. He was indeed correct.

Spearmint twist was the carrot offered for trade, but to tell you the truth, as much as I dig the instro side, it’s ‘Candy-Bar Twist’ that has really got me in a, um, twist. You better download em’ now before Joey Dee unleashed the dogs of war and takes this candy from you, baby.

Candy Bar Twist – Candymen

Spearmint Twist - Candymen

Knifed o'er a Pair of Jordans!?

I guess it makes sense that I bought this disc in a shit-bedecked chicken coup out near Lancaster PA, as the Brothers Jordan hail for nearby Schuylkill County PA, and as anyone who has ever spent a nickel of time out in that area know, it’s a family affair.

The Jordans were a popular regional act from the inception of their first single in 54’ all the way till their disbandment in 1986; quite a long stretch for a band that never made it out of their own county. Be that as it may, the Brothers still have quite a following amongst the locals, who spend their youth pawin and pettin the local trim at their capacity gigs, strollin to the cool sounds of Basin Street Rumble, as if any of those youths had ever seen the business end of a stiletto out there in Amish county. Man, times sure have changed.

Find your way out to Lancaster now and you are just as likely to get iced by a 'Crip' or buy cocaine from a Mennonite than to see even a stitch of unmolested, verdant farmland, but that’s progress for you. Maybe now Basin Street Rumble can finally live up to it’s name. As for me, I personally think the flip, 'Sloe Gin' is cooler, but when it's six of one, half-dozen of the other, you gotta go with name recognition.

Basin Street Rumble – Jordan Brothers

Sloe Gin – Jordan Brothers

Shameless Self-Promotion

Available NOW from GO APE! records.

"Prepare yourself for the all new release from Go Ape Records: three rug-cutters from New Jersey's favorite hellions, the Brimstones! In the grand tradition of records that don't suck, the Brimstones new 45 lifts and separates like a bullet bra for your soul. This is a very limited release, so get it while it's white hot. It's more fun than a barrel of drunken monkeys and only costs your sanity."

It's Hip to Be Square (Sorry).

What has four sides, three parts and will hand you your ass quicker than a bare-knuckle boxer? Answer: This friggin’ record!

This mysterious disc is actually one of about a dozen I scammed recently. All white label promos; most instrumental and all strange labels w/ even stranger acts accompanying. While not the only heavy hitter out of the box, Square and its equally hip flip, Davey’s Drag, are certainly vying for the top spot of my shit-shot agenda of recent acquisitions.

As for history on this disc, I have no idea. I’ve seen it appear on Rockabilly comps before, but I take exception to the fact that this is a Rockabilly track. There is an unfortunate tendency to drop every twangy riff square into the ‘A-billy’ bucket, but as us instrumental mentalist know, this kinda dreck is in a class (and category) all it’s own.

Now, if only we could confirm a part one and two (doubtful, but…).

Square Rock pt 3 - Squares

Davey's Song - Squares

"Doctor Said I Smell Like I's Been Baptized in Silver-Satin Wine."

I buy a lot of novelty records. It's a sickness, not unlike collecting every record w/ the word "bongo" in the title, or every song that has a "pt. 2". I'd be the first to admit that most novelty records are only good for a listen or two before the novelty wears off (clever), and you can only take so much of the Dickie Goodman break-in shtick (Insert 50's era top-forty sound-clip taken out of context)before suffering a psychotic break.

One of my favorite novelty discs eschews the predictable flying saucer invasion for a little Amos & Andy esque Tate ET Tate; where the shiftless 'Cornbread' is always getting the better of straight-man, 'Biscuits', all set to twelve bars of some sweet-back rhythm and blues.

First things first, I'll go for the obvious - this thing has Thunderbird product placement all over it (See: Two Birds, One Stone & and What's the Word), a fact which I find both socially irresponsible and totally awesome (Don't judge me)! Plus, Big Time Spender and the requisite Pt 2 (See, told ya!) gets extra points for not only 'weed' references, but the infinitely rarer 'heroin' acknowledgment tossed off so casually. Some copies of 'Spender' supposedly come w/ a sticker over the 'E' in Maske (Printing error)though I aint ever seen one (Can someone confirm?)

There's a sequel to this which I have yet to pick-up, mostly out of laziness. As it is my copy of 'spender' could use an upgrade, but to be honest, this kinda low-brow shit sounds better behind a bacon sizzle and a styrene fizzle, plus , you really don't have a choice...I'm just sayin'.

Big Time Spender pt 1 - Cornbread & Biscuits

Big Time Spender pt 2 - Cornbread & Biscuits

Mo' Taters, Momma

Woke up to my brain trying to escape through my right eye the other day (See: Chronic Migraines), yet the weather was such that after weeks of snow-bound dementia I’d be damned if I didn’t make it out into the sun to photosynthesis even a little (Gotta get that Serotonin flowin’). After and large coffee and self administer injection of Sumatriptan I made it down to a local record store, passing the time before it opened (Run by teenage punks- one can never truly count on it opening on time, and on a Saturday morning no less!) in an adjacent antique-shop. Pouring over the records there, it occurred to me that I had shuffled through all this crap before, several times in point of fact, and was just about to abandon ship when the familiar feeling came over me; every time I pass on a stack of records somebody dives in and come up w/ doubloons, so I grabbed a random stack and shuffled through…the result: Mo’ Taters.

Popularized by Crypt comp series Las Vegas Grind, this kinda late-in-the-game R&B is now generally referred to as a ‘Titty-Shaker’, though desperate attempts to quantify and categorize such a broad stroke of music seems woefully inadequate (Gothabilly and Surfabilly are two ridiculous subgenre’s that spring to mind). Unbeknownst to many, the Earthworms (Great name!) are actually Oliver Sain (of ‘Bus Stop’ fame) and his little protégé, Little Milton though one doubts he stayed very ‘little’ for very long, what w/ all that starchy intake of his (If his proclivity for Potatoes were to bear-out as the song suggests)

Be it Titty-Shaker or just plain old R&B; call it what you like, just don’t call Tater’s later for dinner, or else run the risk of a side-dish mutiny; the streets flowing w/ the chicken-gravy of the non-believers.

Look for the aptly named flip ‘Fish Tale’ on an upcoming BFTRB soul mix. Until then, pass the taters…

Mo' Taters - Earthworms

Your (Fourth) Chance to Do the Hump!

Reposted by popular request...and then subsequently reposted again, initially because Divshare's ass sucks canal water, but subsequently because of my own incompetence. Regardless, I bring you...

Igor's Lament - Tony & the Monstrosities



Igor's Party - Tony and His Monstrosities

Round and Around and Around and Around and Around And Around and...

There is a man who twists alone.... Though others might box step or (Gasp) swing languidly to the syncopated style of the Madison, this enigmatic individual twists with reckless abandon, twirling a path through a cold and incalculable stellisphere; the providence of brilliant maniacs and insane fools. There is a man who twists alone...for solitude is the Damoclesean (???) sword that forever hangs above the gyrating head of this humble folk hero. His is the thankless role of the fool, the hopeless, yet necessary fulcrum against which all truth and cosmic mystery shall be brought to bear. There is a man who twists alone...Yea, though we should know him by word or deed, he is forever an enigma, a microcosm of centrifugal force tearing a hole through the very fabric of existence. He shall be here long after we have passed into dust, for he is the lone twister.

Hosanna unto him.

Lone Twister - The Lone Twister

Special thanks to Greg for entrusting this gospel to mine hands.

P.S. Is it just me or do the vocals have this weird Mercedes McCambridge/ William ' Friedkin's Exorcist vibe goin' on

P.P.S. Around and Around and Around and Around and Around And Around and...

The Scream of the Butterfly!

I hate caterpillars. Every summer they used to form huge communal cocoons in my families peach trees. We burned em' out with torches (WD40 and a lighter) with no appreciable decline in the local butterfly population. The peach jam which resulted was none the worse either (really good on beer bread - by the by).

Even though I abhor their squishy little bodies, and their ability to inch their way up every exposed cuff and each unguarded plate of tatter salad, it's their body of musical work which is on the plate here, with just as many legs under it (How many legs does a Caterpillar have, anyhoo?).



Here, by request, is the Stranger's Caterpillar Crawl pressed on California's Titan record label (See: Surfmen) and like those fucking' writhing viper pits which hang from the aforementioned trees, this post is practically busting at the seems w/ bonus bugs.



Case in point; I actually prefer the Roommates 59' version to the original. It kinda has a seedy locomotive vibe to it (Think 'Ghost Train' by the Swanks), and as for the Caterpillar Song by the Caterpillars, what can I really say but fuck them Beatles...the Caterpillars are where it's at... provided they don't molest my peach trees any further (There's Brandy in them thar skins).

Caterpillar Crawl - Strangers

Caterpillar Crawl - Dick Dixon (& the Roommates)

Caterpillar Song - Caterpillars

It's A Man Down Where?

Short of sniper fire and trench warfare, I think the most practical application for fingerless gloves would have to digging through 45rpms in a garage in 20 degree weather. I mean, at the very least it will buy you some choice diggin’ time before the blood fully runs out of your extremities. They said I was mad for wearing a wool-lined duck-hunter’s jacket. Well, who’s mad now (Mwwahhaahaahaa)?

Anywhoo…This next record is the kind of happy surprise that makes such selfish endeavors seem totally worth it. There is precious little info about G. L Crockett (besides this bitchin’ photo – dig the hair, man!) sufficed to say that he cut a couple of hen’s Teeth, most notably Chief records (Leather Jacket Cowboy, anyone?) in 57’ and a couple of 65’ late comers on the 4 Brothers records.

What we have here is a specimen of the latter, and lucky for us that both sides shell out some serious primitive-ass shekels you can take straight to the bank. The guitar work here is very sparse, treble-laden and loose, bringing to mind everything that is right about late 50’s R&B comported to a slightly later soul market. Both sides deserve the attention, so be attentive, will ya?

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It's a Man Down There – G.L. Crockett

Every Hour, Every Day – G.L. Crockett

Dark Meat

Here's two helpins o' dark meat to hold you over until the main event. It's like my Slovak grandma always said, "You're adopted..." no, wait, I mean "The marrow is where all the flavor is." Kinda creepy in a desperate, eastern-bloc sort of way, no?



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Turkey Hop Pt. 1 - Johnny Otis

Turkey Hop Pt. 2 - Johnny Otis

Blues for the RedBoy presents: Even a Mix Who is Pure of Heart & Says It's Prayers @ Night...

Ok, so…you are walking home in the small hours of the evening through a neighborhood whose byways you have traversed your entire misspent adolescence. You could always make a right on Old Post Road (Substitute your own thoroughfare) with its street lamps and relative safety, but it would just be quicker to take that small wooded lane that traverses the industrial park. Quarter mile in and the footpath you’ve tread has disappeared in the blackness under foot, the only light to be had coming from the final full blush of a waning moon overhead. Amidst the din of crickets and cicadas a rustle can be heard which stops you cold, mid-step. Chances are it is a possum, or, if you live in Tasmania, a Wombat, but maybe, just maybe…it might be a Werewolf. Either that or a drunken transient. Seriously though, can you really afford to take your chances with either?


Werewolf – the Frantics

Yeah, so what? You find a better song to start a werewolf mix if with (and one featuring future members of ‘Moby grape, at that!). Cut in 59’ on Seattle’s Dolton label, ‘Werewolf’ comes in many label and track combinations, but none of em’ touch this classic tune and it’s equally inventive flip




Weerdo the Wolf – Frankie Stein & his Ghouls


The first and only single culled for the debut album of this legendary 1960’s studio band. I highly recommend seeking out their complete discography on wax before the tragically hip drive the prices through the roof.




Big Bad Wolf – Bart Lewis

I realize that the inclusion of this tune is a stretch, but Perrault’s original interpretation of Le Petite Chaperone Rouge has always been understood as an allegorical werewolf story, that, and it ain’t like I got werewolf records comin’ out the wazoo, so I guess I got no choice but to think on my paws. Look for the flip, Bart Lewis’ ‘Frankenstein’ in a future BFTRB installment.


Mr. Were-Wolf – Kacties

For those people who have always wondered who would win in a balls-out fight between Tarzan and a werewolf, the wait is over. Brooklyn’s Kacties were busy whoopin’ the shit out of the local vocal competition when they cut this b-side scant hours before Ben E. King would highjack their session for his magnum opus ‘Stand By Me’. Man, just think of how cool ‘Stand By Me’ would have been had it had featured a werewolf. (Sigh) The mind reels.



Werewolf – Gary Warren

Cut in 58’ on Nashville’s Nasco label, werewolf has seen many a comp and cover, but that scarcely diminishes the strange, otherworldly quality of this romantic ode to werewolf fidelity. I also love the fact that not only does Warren’s close proximity to the female sex excite his more lycanthropic tendencies, but this-here werewolf is “King-Size”. Doggy style it is.

Weird Wolf – Ghouls

Here’s another studio band, this time w/ famed producer Gary Usher @ the helm. Say what you will about the frivolity of this album’s monstrous trappings, but this record stands on it’s own as an awesome example of the highest aspirations of sixties surf music. I managed to scam my mono copy years ago, only to find a clean stereo copy @ a garage sale for a quarter. God bless N.J.


Wolfman – Muleskinners

If it is not already evident by the title and label of this 64’ cut, this band ain’t foolin nobody if they think we can’t suss-out Fendermen when we see/hear them. Seeing as how this record found its way onto a later Soma re-issue w/ the Fendermen brand soundly attached to the label, I’d say their demographic is made of some of the sharpest knives in the drawer. Goooood Mornin’ Captain!


So in closing, I’d like to take this opportunity to set you straight on this-here werewolf business. In the words of my old pal Svengoolie:

"You don’t tug on Dracula’s cape.
You don’t let werewolves run loose
You don’t monkey around with Tarzan
And don’t mess around w/‘Bruce’"

Words to live by. Until next time, beware the moors and stay to the road -RB

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Blues for the Redboy presents: Even a Mix Who is Pure of Heart and Say It’s Prayers @ Night Can Change to a Wolf when the Wolfbane Blooms & the Autumn Moon is Bright.

Warning: this Post is presented in Hypno-Vista (Whatever the hell that means)!

First off, given American International Picture's (See: previous post) illustrious legacy of jamming two sub-par movies together as a package deal, these two features just really don’t fit. Headless Ghost is more of a ‘Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow’- like comedy and Horrors of the Black Museum is the greatest giallo film that neither Argento nor Fulchi made. Add to the fact that both films hail from 59’, a social period remembered more for space-age terror and giant bugs then subtlety, and you can begin to see why a promotional record featuring a vocal group jam (passe’ even by 1959’s standards) perhaps wasn’t the best advertising move. I mean, have you ever heard of either of these movies? I didn’t think so.

That not to say the record is a lemon. On the contrary, I think it plays particularly loose with it’s accaplella nuttiness. Pair this w/ a copy of ‘Attack of the Giant Leeches’ on AIP records (or AIR) and you got yerself the cream of the Samuel Z. Arkoff's corny crop.



As far as Halloween is concerned, there sure ain’t a more haunted notion then a Ghost who can’t get no head….wait, I think I may have misunderstood the assignment.

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Headless Ghost - Nightmares

(Oooh I'm Scared) of the Horrors of the Black Museum - Nightmares

Blues for the RedBoy presents: She's A Haunted Betty Boop!

Made this mix with my own two hands for a certain Sister who, at the time, was as blue as a robin’s egg. Hopefully it did the trick and lifted her outta her doldrums. With a little bit of re-purposing, I’m sending this out to all those peculiar chicks and the men who go gooey for their ghoulish antics. See, behind every man is a good woman (or, if you are a smooth operator, several), though one cannot necessarily guarantee that that woman is not holding a carving knife or a spool of piano wire. Face it fellas, these witches keep you on your toes, if not by virtue of the rope they got slung around your neck, then by that weird whammy they got workin’ day in/day out. There isn’t much we as hot-blooded beasts wouldn’t do for a shot at that cauldron they got bubblin' between their knees, but don’t be fooled fellas…you are not in control. You may think you got the upper hand, but you are just one muttered hex away form frog-city. Give a spin and celebrate these weird sisters, warts and all, but do it with a rosary on your lips and your back to the wall, lest you wind up in the soup (literally)

You Are My Girl – Three Stooges

I can only assume this is not thee Three Stooges, however, there may just be at least one self-styled ‘fake Shemp’ involved in the production and execution. Cool tune about the endearing qualities of a monstrously ugly fiend who moonlights as a card-carrying member of the fairer sex.

Miss Frankenstein – George Jackson

In keeping w/ a general theme of skin-deep scarification, here is a mystery tune from 62’ about a butta faced Philly who requires a pork chop be tied around her spindly neck to facilitated some doggy love. Featuring ex-members of Baltimore Maryland’s vocal sensation the Plants. It’ll grow on you (Get it!?)

Vampira - Bobby Bare

This 1958’ cut by Ohio C&W legend Bobby Bare (aka. All American Boy Billy Parsons) has made the rounds for awhile now, but as anybody from Jersey knows, there is somethin’ to be said for “Two inch nails, micro waist, w/ a pale white feline face...” Any self-deprecating ghoul w/ “Inclination eyebrows” is free to suck my…neck, any time. Released on Challenge records subsidiary ‘Jackpot Records’, today might just be your lucky day (Get it!?)

Tombstone # 9 – Murray Schaff

Wanna hear something’ weird? While scheduling this post I realized that this test pressing was cut 53 years ago today (Don't beleive me? Check the fine print). Coincidence…I think not! Perhaps it is an ill omen? The lesson at hand: don’t give in, fellas! Even though these womens got the hard sell and are willing to give out free samples, you may just wind up at the business end of a post hole digger. According to particulars this tune was slated for release on King records, though I have never come across a copy proper. Anyone?

Queen of Halloween – Bily Snel

Here’s an obscure two-sider (see later posting for the flip) outta NY state which has eluded most comp-cobblers for awhile. Most of the copies that turn up are new-old stock, so chances are these beauties have been living out their existence in a tradesman’s closet. Good thing I am not above accepting anonymous charity.


Draculena – Aaron McNeil

This 1964 soul styling is in the same sanguinary vein (pun intended) as the above mentioned Bobby Bare disc. Though of a decidedly later comportment, ‘Draculena’ throws a littler Voodoo into the mash w/ some Marie Laveau inspired femme fatality. Hell, I'd follow Draculena to her grave.

Headless Nightmare - Villagers

A weird folksy number from 63’ concerning an ex-girlfriend who earned her ‘post’ status by getting her noggin’ clipped off by a speeding train. As can be expected, such a death rarely results in eternal rest, and more often than not insures a white-clad specter swinging its missing extremity down the tracks for all eternity. Get some new shoes, Daddy. Step on it!


Witch Girl – Ron Walden

One of my current favorites, Witch Girl has been piloting her broom under my radar for some time now, though how that’s possible w/ such a trashy solo is beyond me. Say what you will, but the devil knows how to pick them, I just wish Ole' Slue-foot could furnish me with some more info on this killer track.

Vampires Ghost – Jimmy Bowers

Never trust the ghost of a vampire who “Plays Cards Like a Man” not only will you loose your shirt, but you are bound to loose your white-bread soul in the process, and there aint nothin’ a self-respecting vamp likes more that white bread soul w/ a little dab of mayo and a barrel pick - no garlic, please.

So there you have it folks. If’un you wanna get down to brass tacks w/ yer baby, just slide this mix in, get down on one hoof, take her by the tentacle and tell her you’d marry/murder her all over again. Remember, you can always buy cemetery plots by the pair, and there ain’t nothin’ deeper than his and her graves, dig?

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Blues for the RedBoy Presents: She’s a Haunted Betty Boop!

P.S. Stay wood kid, stay wood!