Bolus

New COOP/ Descent Pickguards Now Available

(Appy polly loggies for the shameless shilling, but...) Buy 'em here.

He Was a Roadrunner

It sucks to write this: RIP Ellis McDaniel, a/k/a Bo Diddley.

Calypso-So With Robert Mitchum

Not only is the universe stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine.
Sir Arthur Eddington
English astronomer (1882 - 1944)

In honor of Tammi Jo, here's a mindbending cut from Robert Mitchum's LP of calypso favorites. Yes, I typed that. Robert Mitchum's LP of calypso favorites.

Please to enjoy, "Mama Looka Boo Boo."

Tammi Jo's Relaxin' Music

Anybody who knows my special ladyfriend Tammi Jo knows that she enjoys her some relaxin'.  And to enhance that relaxin', she has assembled a mighty fine stack of relaxin' wax culled from area estate sales, garage sales, and curbside trash pickups.  From time to time I'll be dropping a post spotlighting a selection from her collection of vintage hi-fi LP audio traquilizers. With the help of Mr. Cratedigger, I'll eventually be putting together a mix for your listening pleasure.

Tammi Jo's first selection is the provocatively titled "Fire Down Below" featuring a legs-akimbo Rita Hayworth gallivanting about in a disturbing 40-pound fiberglass bathing suit:

This LP was in support of a forgettable 1957 flick of the same title starring Miss Hayworth and Robert Mitchum set in Trinidad & Tobago (tagline: "Torrid, tempestuous Irena...the spark that turned the tropics into a blazing cauldron of passions!"), and features calypso-lite performed by a decidedly domestic cast.

From the liner notes:

"Here are a dozen favorite artists, a dozen songs, a dozen syles, a dozen different kind of musical kick, all igniting into one mammoth long-playing, smoking, roaring blaze of rhythm and tunefulness that go to your head -- 'cause there's Fire Down Below."

Tammi Jo Sez:

"Don't worry about 'Fire Down Below' causing smoke damage to your nether regions, ladies.  Despite the torrid cover art, this collection of  low-key syncopation is more about the occasional pleasant hip twitch than uncontrollable tropical hot box.  A worthwhile turntable selection for  late afternoon cocktails."

Final Grade:

Exotic-ness: B+
Relaxful-ness: B-
Afrodesiac-ness: C-

Drink equivalence: 2 highball Zombies

April Globehopping

Scenes from a busy April: hot rodding in Texas, dancing in Iowa, partying in Paris.

A Goddamn Dead Dog Dedication*

The fine funky folks at Flea Market Funk asked me to contribute a guest mix, and being the funky-fresh fellow that I am, I quickly complied. I cobbled together this mess of stuff that I've been listening to lately, and thanks to the wonder of the internet, it is available for you to download and mindlessly consume. Enjoy!

Check the cool wax here.

*In case you don't get the reference.

Hell's iPod

Over the years the music industry has provided the listening public a treasure trove of musical excrescence, but only an elite few deserve recognition as instruments of torture.   I humbly offer a few examples of these Olympian earwigs. Please feel free to offer your own suggestions in comments.

Caution: not safe for work. Not safe for home. Not safe for anywhere.

Click if you dare.

UPDATE CAUTION: NOW CONTAINS 27%  RUPERT HOLMES ADDITIVES

White Plains -- My Baby Loves Lovin'

Terry Jacks -- Seasons in the Sun

Bo Donaldson & the Heywoods -- Billy Don't Be a Hero

Captain & Tenille -- Muskrat Love

Tony DiFranco & the DiFranco Family -- Heartbeat (It's a Love Beat)

Bobby Goldsboro -- Honey

Sammy Johns -- Chevy Van

Debbie Boone -- You Light Up My Life

RUPERT HOLMES UPDATE

For whatever reason (I blame trauma), I neglected to include the astonishing cannibalism-stalking-alcoholism soft perv rock oeuvre of Rupert Holmes in the initial posting. Consider it fixed, and you're welcome.

The Buoys -- Timothy

Written by Rupert Holmes and performed by the Buoys, the soft rock pride of Wilkes-Barre PA. Perhaps the finest cannibalism ballad ever to reach the top 20.

Rupert Holmes - Him

him HIM HIIIMMMM

Rupert Holmes - Escape (The Pina Colada Song)

Friday Funk Mix

Here is the latest baker's dozen from Cratedigger Labs, and so sorry for the delay in getting some hip grooves out to you all. Sometimes life gets in the way.

Once again this here mixed was mixed live on the 1200s, this time on a recent Friday night, with a couple of beers in hand. It's all vinyl all the time here at Cratedigger.

I truly hope you dig it.

Friday Funk Track list
01 Jan Jan The Fabulous Counts/ Moira
02 C'Mon And Swim Bobby Freeman/ Autumn
03 The Funky Judge Bull & The Matadors/Toddlin' Town
04 We've Got To Have Love Wilson Pickett/ Atlantic
05 (For God's Sake) Give More Power To The People Chi-Lites/ Brunswick
06 Watermelon Man Herbie Mann/ Atlantic
07 Want' A Do Somethin' Freaky To You Leon Haywood/ 20th Century
08 I Likes To Do It The People's Choice/ Phil-La of Soul
09 How Do Yeaw View You? Funkadelic/ Westbound
10 Anything You Do Is Alright The Radiants/ Chess
11 Clean Up Woman Betty Wright/ Alston
12 Get It (Instrumental) Wilmer & The Dukes/ Aphrodisiac
13 You've Got To Crawl The 8th Day/ Invictus

Download here

Originally posted here

Austin Chronicles Part 2

Friday 4/4

Up bright and early at 10:30 am, head to Austin hippie chow redoubt Magnolia Cafe for French toast then up South Congress so Tammi Jo and teenage Hawkette can engage in a clothes-shopping mission.  Funny thing about South Congress; when I first visited here in the 80's this was the neighborhood one went to when in need of handguns or crack or transvestite prostitutes.  Over the past twenty years  it has transformed into a chi-chi row of boho boutiques and bistros, chockablock with Vespa-riding eco shaggies who refer to it as (ugh) "SoCo."  Traces of old South Congress remain, tho, like the "GUNS" sign on the tropical fish store that once housed "JUST GUNS." To avoid purse-holding duty 12-year old Hawkspawn and I drop off the girls and head back to the Big Top candy store, a terrific joint that stocks all kinds of hard-to-find confections like Fizzies and gummi haggis (I am not making this up). The store is also a showcase for the steampunk projects of owner Brandon Hodge, who gives us a brief tour including his crazy steam-powered gear drive guitar. Hawkspawn picks out 30 bucks of tooth-rotting goodies, including a few packs of candy cigarettes.

Afterwards Hawkspawn and I boogie off to the Travis County Expo Center where day 1 of the Lonestar Round Up car show is already underway.  We run into our old Illinois pal Aaron "Plowboy" Grote, whose "Atomic Punk" bubbletop is one of the star attractions. It's parked next to his previous project, the "Lunar Lander" roadster, which is now owned by a Louisiana physician.

There's a swap meet going on inside the Livestock hall, so we head up to scout for junk bargains and hear the strange lilt of lawn mower engines. Minibike races! We grab a fence rail and enjoy the mayhem.

Down in the outdoor vendor area we run into a couple more Bolus contributors -- Ryan Cochran of the Jalopy Journal and Coby Gewertz of Church Magazine, who we last saw at 2007 Bonneville Speed Week. We also run into our Chicago paisano Kevin Tully from Hot Rod Chassis and Cycle and his lovely bride Megan. They've made the 1200 mile journey here on motorcycles, and Megan relates her near death experience after a semi crosswind nearly pushed her Sportster into an I-55 ditch south of Joliet. Yipes.

Along vendor row we chat with a few more hot rod building & artist types like Jimmy White from Circle City, Brian Bass, Keith Weesner and recent California-to-Austin transplant Von Franco, plus my Illinois buddy Gordy Cushman who, in addition to building the 389 Pontiac in my '31 Ford Coupe, is bass player for the Cheap Trick cover band Budokan 78.  Gordy's latest project is repopping vintage Harrell heads for 59 AB Ford flat motors, which might go on my next project.

At the Austin Speed Shop booth we chatted a few minutes with Sean Johnstun, king of crazy  60's  style custom upholstery. Some of his handiwork:

Hawkspawn veers off with a couple of buddies to ogle cars and I hear a familiar call:

"Sapo!"

It's Michael Lightbourn and his crew of crazies from El Paso, the same guys who rescued  me from a certain beatdown in Juarez last fall while following the trail of Ed "Big Daddy" Roth's Orbitron. During that same trip they made me an honorary Mexican, alias 'Sapo' ('Toad'). We hoist a beer in celebration and make plans for dinner. Since we are dining with Mexicans in Texas, we make the logical cuisine choice: Indian. 

Hawkspawn and I hook back up with Tammi Jo and Hawkette after the show, and reconvene with the El Pasoans for curry and tandoori at a cozy table for 20.  Lightbourn's wife Tina pulls out a surprise for me: a handsome stuffed toad from the mercado in Juarez, wrapped in a pink gift bag. *Sniff*.

After numerous toasts it's time to get the family back to the hotel for shuteye. I've got enough energy for a nightcap so I head back to Trophy's on South Congress to catch the late show of Lil' Bobby Bleed.  Run into some friends and enjoy some good cruise action outside. We end up closing the place down, and I head back to the hotel and sack out for the big day tomorrow.

I Just Flew In From Texas and Boy Is My Liver Tired

Just joshing! Beverage intake was actually rather mild thanks to the watchful eye of Tammi Jo and our two urchins. As mentioned previously we were in Austin for our annual pilgrimage to  the Lonestar Rod & Custom Round Up hosted by the fine fellows of the Kontinentals Car Club.

Thursday 4/3

First things first: After checking in to our deluxe motor court lodgings we made tracks to Chuy's on Barton Creek for some sacramental Tex-Mex. Elvis Platter for me, blue corn chicken enchiladas for the rest. Chuy's is remembered by many as the site of the Bush Twins' underage drinking bust, so I take the occasion to remind my kids of the importance of having a good fake ID.

From there, a quick jaunt down South Congress for hot rod gawking in front of the venerable Continental Club, Ground Zero for the Austin music scene. On the sidewalk in front of the San Jose Motel, ran into old Canadian pal Jeff Norwell who was chewing the fat with Juan Espinoza of Deadend Magazine and car painting/pinstriping legend Rod Powell.  The streets are packed with killer rods and customs, so we have a good chuckle when a parade of beeping VWs streams by, flying the Jolly Roger. It reminds me of the mimes-versus-rodeo clowns showdown scene from Shakes the Clown. Across the street we run into Bolus co-blogger Scott Noteboom and Alex Gambino, whose caravan has just arrived after an 1800 mile roadtrip from San Jose.

After renewing numerous old acquaintances, took the kiddies back to the motor lodge for shut-eye, then headed back to the Continental Club to catch the massively entertaining midnight show of Southern Culture on the Skids. Called it a night at 2am. More fun tomorrow!