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

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...

Two Birds, One Stone

Thun.der.bird /n/: A spirit of thunder, lightning, and rain in the form of a huge bird in the mythology of certain Native American peoples.

Thun.der.bird /n/: Fruit flavored, fortified wine drink usually found in urban area convenience stores for a relatively cheap price.

If you were to ask your average Lakota Indian (And I know you have) about the proud heritage of the majestic Thunderbird, he would surely regale thee w/ tales of this auspicious thunder-eating fowl. Consequently, if you were to ask your average bum in Newark about that same subject, you’d probably be offered a hand job in a public park under the auspice of acquiring this strange species of bender-juice. Frankly, this is why I avoid soup kitchens.



Nothing good ever came out of from a screw-top, and Thunderbird is no exception. The stupor one crafts on this shit is of the fightin’ kind (Sweatin’ & Cussin’), and the hangover is of such a rare species that you would welcome the sweet embrace of death as an alternative to the Armageddon you have unknowingly unleashed in your head. Oh, and it turns your tongue black like a giraffe's. Needless to say, I love this shit.



Story goes that brothers Earnest and Julio Gallo (Yup, the very same) were looking to market a relatively cheap wine to the as-yet undervalued urban demographic (See: Ghetto). Priced to move and for-T-fied (i.e. added booze), the only component missing was a conveyance to get their product to the masses. I assume the brainstorming session when something like this:

Ernest: Say Julio, how can we sell this shitty cough syrup to ornery black folk?

Julio: Why, by capitalizing on their affinity for rhyming couplets, of course!

Hence this crafting of thee greatest commercial jingle of all times…

"What's the word? / Thunderbird / How's it sold? / Good and cold / What's the jive? / Bird's alive / What's the price? / Thirty twice."

Having gotten that that off my chicken chest, I really don’t know shit about these two records, save for their obvious mutual adoration of Lokata heritage and tradition (Obviously). The Casual-Aires tune is perhaps the most conspicuous of the two, having been included in Crypt records Las Vegas Grind series, an as for the ‘Thunderbird Twist’, I grabbed that pearl out of a box of junk near Trenton and I haven't looked back (Don't wanna make eye contact). Seriously,'Twist' is one of my absolute faves (my standards are admittedly low).

Make sure you get your wig busted up on some dirty bird before loosing these hounds. Just screw off the cap and let your inner transient take flight.

What's the jive? / Bird's alive!

Thunderbird Twist - Thunderbirds

Thunderbird - Casual-Aires

P.S. Dig these vintage adverts (Here and Here) for the crowned-prince of low-class hooch. Nothin' say classy like James Mason!

Baby Jesus, Please Make It Stop!!!

Ummm...I'll let this one speak, or rather, caterwaul for itself.

Picture of Mommy Twisting With Santa - Little Cori



If your ears happen to stop bleeding long enough, have a Happy Holiday / Non-denominational seasonal celebration of which I make no faith-based implication in the interests of spiritual equality (sigh).

"Say man...let's do the Wombat Twist."

Hands down, one of the greatest opening lines, nay, thee greatest opening line in music history. How could you not wanna do the Wombat Twist after such a gracious invitation, even if it meant getting crushed by a bus? This tune has been gettin' around since Hound days, and I really wish there was more of a whale of a tale to tell, but as is the nature of the inspired word that often occasions true genius, perhaps it is best that the story of 'Wombat Twist' remains shrouded in mystery. Still, in the interests of competent blogging, I feel compelled to educate any way I can. Here is some food for thought:


From the memoirs of the Rossetti family (1869)

"The beasts upon which Dante's affections were prodigalized were the first wombat and his successor the woodchuck. The second wombat, having died immediately, counts for little. No more engagingly lumpish quadruped than the first wombat could be found, and none more obese and comfortable than the woodchuck. They were both tame, especially the woodchuck; and Dante would sit with either in his arms by the half-hour together, dandling them paunch upward, scratching gently at their cheeks or noses, or making the woodchuck's head and hind-paws meet. With the wombat no such operation was possible. Each of them was his housemate for some time, and each expired without premonition. I do not assume that my brother wept over them, but certainly "his heart was sair." For the wombat (not having yet seen it) he wrote from Penkill Castle the following quatrain:

"Oh how the family affections combat
Within this heart, and each hour flings a bomb at
My burning soul! Neither from owl nor from bat
Can peace be gained until I clasp my wombat."

Indeed.

Wombat Twist - Glen & Christy