Bostworld

Why do I continue to drag myself out in the open like this, week after week? For one thing, it helps to counter the toxic effects of a 40-hour week in the name of another man’s dime. It’s also a great way to add extra enjoyment to my collection. In addition to the thrill of the hunt, the capture and the inevitable cataloging (always with the cataloging), I can also revel in the pleasure of sharing all this ephemeral crap with my visitors.

I also love it when the wrong people visit this site by mistake, venting their disorientation and discomfort in the comments. I especially love it when they use terms like “elevator music” as if this was incisive criticism. After all, some folks still obsess over “authenticity,” preferring “immediacy” and “spontaneity” above all other concerns. Somehow, the soundtrack to a long-defunct Saturday morning kids show or a 30-year-old vanity pressing from an unknown lounge singer just doesn’t work for them

But for those of you who just want a little mundane background music for your misanthropic existence, a little something to listen to while you put your pants on one leg at a time (just like the next guy), I hope this podcast fits the bill.


“Happy To Make Your Acquaintance” - Sammy Davis Jr. & Carmen MacCrea
“African Queen” - Pizzicato Five
“Wet & Wild” - Vandals
“Kiss Kiss Bang Bang” - Jimmy Sedlar
“I’ll Always Be True To You” - Salt Water Taffy
“Watermelon Man” - Artie Scott Orchestra
“Proxamatics” - American Standards
“Bend A Little” - Magic Disco Machine
“Make Believe” - Easybeats
“That Same Old Feeling” - Symphonette Brass
“Sweet Caroline” - Donny Brooks


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Nowadays, there’s a thriving industry devoted to archiving the best of twentieth century periodicals. If it’s not being sold on DVD, it’s been issued hardbound on acid-free paper. If nothing else, there’s always the share bloggers. But when I was a kid, you could only read ABOUT the great comics. You might be able to piece together Harvey Kurtzman’s non-MAD/Little Annie Fannie career from third-party sources, but you’d never actually get to see of it without doling out some seriously hefty coin.

Sure, Peanuts never went out of print, and back then Pogo trade paperbacks weren’t yet impossible to find. And the occasional fan publisher would bring out the odd EC reprint or coffee table book devoted to classic newspaper strips. But for me, the real gold came from second hand book stores (remember those?) or rummage sales. I remember when I was twelve years old, finding a coverless copy of Kurtzman’s “Trump” Number 2 from 1957, for probably no more than a dime (ten comics for a dollar, no doubt). The following year, when I became a Kurtzman fanatic, I was astounded to realize what I had. The same goes for the odd paperbacks I’d pick up during a dull summer vacation day, or inherit from older friends and family. Years later, I’d realize that the poorly printed black and white paperback of sci-fi comic stories was actually reprints from EC’s “Weird Science!”

The days when you could find these kinds of old mass market paperbacks by accident in the back of a thrift store are pretty much gone. Reading them is out of the question. These things are so old, it makes my hands dirty just to get near them. Some of ‘em are so brittle I can’t even open one without the spine shattering and the pages turning to powder right before my eyes. But I can scan the covers and share them with the rest of you. Meanwhile, I’ll be pre-ordering my hardbound reissue of Kurtzman’s “Humbug,” set for release this fall. And if someone doesn’t hurry up and release reprints of “Trump” and “Help!,” I may be tempted to share them myself.



I got a call from my father the other day. “You were right,” he told me.

He’d been trying to keep a barbershop group together up where he lives in Anchorage, Alaska. But he was unable to keep the group engaged at the level he demanded, and he got tired of doing all the work. So he finally decided to take my suggestion that he just get himself a decent mike, plug it into his computer, and record all the parts himself. Unfortunately, he ditched Apple several years ago, too soon to take part in the iLife Revolution. Now he was asking me which Windows software would be the best for the task at hand. I had no idea, so I pointed him to a couple of readily Googlable trial versions and hoped for the best. In the end, he went with the off-the-shelf solution at his nearby Best Buy.

He was so stoked with the results that now he was calling me again, asking about gear upgrades — specifically, one of those nice hands-free mike and headphone combos that you see all the kids wearing on television. He told me his new goal was to mount a series of karaoke-style performances at the local hospital. I told him it was time to forgo his computer store for advice and head over to the local music store. We also discussed the importance of extensive rehearsal and the necessity of working through the suck.

My brother Damon always had a similar dilemma. He’s been involved in a long string of awesome musical groups, none of them had any real staying power. More often than not, they seemed to break down on the rocks of their indifference to putting in the work it takes to master my brother’s beguiling and complicated original compositions. Like my father, he also wound up wed to the convenience of digital multi-tracking.

“Octet For Percussion” is a perfect example of a piece he never talked anyone into learning. I’m not even sure he tried. It existed on paper long before it ever got recorded. For his teevee show, Damon added a comparatively mundane video collage homage to his job behind the wheel of a cab. Similarly, he also gives autobiographical touches to his version of Jacques Brel’s “Les Chanson De Jacqui,” breathing all his frustrated singular ambition into Brel’s classic tale of an everyman’s aspirations of grandeur.

Though he maintains a couple of loose musical associations on his Henry VIII, King Of All England site and as the leader of the essentially fictitious Kings Of Doggwater, my brother’s current musical output is mostly a solitary enterprise. But unlike our father, he does have one very powerful partner in his corner. After years of wandering in the Windows wilderness, he finally acquired an aging Macintosh from one of his fellow musicologists. We wish him nothing but good fortune and creative productivity free from driver conflicts.



Used to be, when a popular musical group fell from favor, they’d “reinvent” themselves, ditching their perishable old shtick in favor of whatever “sound” was currently in vogue. They’d take this route as long as they could before finally being put to pasture on the oldies circuit. Albums from this period would often have “today!” or “now!” in the title (eg. “Junior Samples NOW!”). Or perhaps they’d take a more up-front approach, like “Count Basie In A Slightly Less Archaic Groove,” or allude to some sort of sudden rejuvenation, like band singer Jayne Morgan’s 1967 comeback L.P., “Fresh From A Nap.” Sometimes, they’d attempt a full-scale graft of another artist’s style, as in “Robert Goulet Tries To Sing The Contemporary Hits of Rod McKuen” or Mel Torme’s “Kickin’ It With Jobim.”

Continue reading ‘Les Brown & The Super Sounds of Renown - “New Horizons”’

I’ve loved Jack Cole’s work ever since I first saw it — probably in an old DC Special or Super Spectacular from back in the seventies. Or perhaps it was in the books by Jules Feiffer or Les Daniels. I’ve been happily binging on Plastic Man, thanks to 8 volumes devoted to the stretchy supersleuth in the hardbound DC Archive Editions series. But the endless variation on the same theme — elastic though it is — tends to get monotonous after a while. Which is why it’s been great to see so much space devoted lately to Cole’s horror and crime work over at these fine comic book blogs:

Continue reading ‘Jack Cole’s “Mantoka”’

Even the most amateur photographer cannot resist Historic Route 66.

Did I say “even?” I’m sorry, I meant “especially.” There’s a whole cottage industry around vending pix of America’s Highway. It’s practically a cliche, like going to Niagra Falls for your honeymoon, or going to New York City to see “Cats.” If you visit any of the cool rotting towns along Historic Route 66, you bring your camera, then you can tell the world you’re a Great Artist. If you don’t know anyone with a large format photo printer, you can post your pix to Panoramio and stash ‘em up on Google Earth.

Continue reading ‘Scenes From A Short Sprint Along Sixty-Six’

So, what did you do with YOUR “stimulus” check?

I gave my share over to my wife — we’ve got bills to pay. No muss, no fuss. But I’m still hoping to “help keep the terrorists from winning” by checking something off my wish list. Specifically, I’m hankering after a new zoom lens for my camera. But first, I need to take a look at the bill from my mechanic for the new shocks he’s putting on my car.

“What’d you do, take this thing off-roading?” He asked. “It’s okay — you can tell me.” Smartass. Why would I take my twelve-year-old Nissan Altima off-roading? Besides, I hardly need any extra impulsiveness to trash my suspension — the speed-bumps infesting my neighborhood take care of that.

Continue reading ‘Your Favorite Little Podcast: Episode Twelve’