Sunday morning gospel--Taylor Mountain Boys, The Harmony Singers, Heavenward Bound

I had to look through a number of my most "down-home" songbooks to find There'll Be Shouting (a.k.a. Shouting on the Hills). From 1925, it turns out. Which means it was a new song when Smith's Sacred Singers put it on wax the following year. Cool. I featured the Smith's recording a few weeks back.

The words to the cool hymn Footprints of Jesus were written in 1871 (not sure about the music, though it sounds from the same period). The song is also commonly known as Footsteps of Jesus. Impress your friends and family with this tidbit of gospel trivia.

The Taylor Mountain Boys' version of Amazing Grace (see above) was made for a Columbus, Ohio label. That much I learned from Colleen of Colleen's Collectables, where I found this highly bluegrass record. By now, I've heard so many bluegrass, Southern-quartet, etc. versions of this song, I no longer think of Judy Collins. I even used to have the 1926 Wisdom Sisters 78 of Grace, but I didn't keep it. Like so many "hillbilly" gospel records of its time, it featured straight-from-the-songbook harmonizing--bluegrass singing hadn't been nichified yet, so the original folks didn't know how to do it authentically enough.

O Say, But I'm Glad is given a copyright date of 1936 in my copy of Church Hymnal (imaginative title, no?), always the first place I look for down-home, "straight from the hills"-type titles.

Haven't found Wonderful yet. Sounds Twenties, but could be later. Power in the Blood is 1899, and Brighten the Corner Where You Are was a massive hit in 1913, and beyond. Charles (Will the Circle Be Unbroken) Gabriel, who composed the tune, also gave us two others in today's playlist--1905's Awakening Chorus , and the massive 1900 hit The Glory Song (O That Will Be Glory), which allegedly sold 20,000,000 copies in sheet music form. I believe it, what with the number of songbooks printed back then and the number of people who owned them. It's entirely possible.

O Happy Day dates from 1755 (the words) and 1855 (music). Cyberhymnal says 1855 for the refrain only, though I've seen that year given for the whole thing. I know for sure that O Happy Day's melody is much better known as How Dry I Am.

That, plus it's not related to the Lawrence Welk or Edwin Hawkins hits called Oh Happy Day. Or, of course, to Happy Days.


Amazing Grace--The Taylor Mountain Boys; from 45.

Awakening Chorus (Gabriel)--The Harmony Singers; from vinyl.

Footprints of Jesus (Mary B. Slade-Asa B. Everett)--The Lockport Quartet; from vinyl.

Wonderful (Yandall)--Ralph Carmichael Quartet; from vinyl.

O Say, But I'm Glad--Ralph Carmichael Singers; from vinyl.

There'll Be Shouting (E.M. Bartlett)--Blue Ridge Quartet; from vinyl.

Rock of Ages--Lockport Quartet; from vinyl.

There Is Power in the Blood (L.E. Jones)--Heavenward Bound; from vinyl.

Brighten the Corner Where You Are (Gabriel-Ogdon)--Heavenward Bound; from vinyl.

I'm on the Battlefield (Dorsey)--Old Fashioned Revival Hour Quartet; from Word LP.

O Happy Day--Old Fashioned Revival Hour Quartet; from Word LP.

The Glory Song (Gabriel)--North Industry Christian Church Chancel Choir; from vinyl.



Lee

Saturday sounds! The Original Red Tops, TV Themes, more

These were going to be "Saturday Morning Sounds," but it's no longer Saturday. I mean, no longer morning.

I wonder if we've reached our designated high of 20 yet? Temps during the day will be descending steadily into the single digits from said "high." The windchill factor will be scary-low. I can't wait. I mean, who wants a wimpy winter? Besides me and just about everyone else?

As I type this, a fly is walking on the the window (inside). How on earth did a fly survive this far into winter? He must have mighty important things to do, like writing the Great Fly Novel or something. We can only imagine what's kept him going all this time. Keeping in mind that "all this time" means about two weeks in fly terms.

Okay, time for music. Some Saturday post-morning music.

Tuff Guitar (G. Roumanis)--Al Caiola, 1965. From LP of same name.

Hello, Is That You? (Huddleston)--The (Original) Red Tops; vocal by Rufus McCay, 1957. From Sky 45.

Swanee River Rock (Huddleston)--The (Original) Red Tops; vocal by Rufus McCay, 1957. From Sky 45.

Happy Days (Fox-Gimble)--Ray Conniff, 1976. From one of Ray's many Columbia label LPs. (I think this one has the lyrics Byron was looking for....)

Theme from S.W.A.T. (D. DeVorzon)--Ray Conniff, 1976.

Mystery Movie Theme (Mancini)--Ray Conniff, 1976. (I got tired of this particular theme when it was on TV, but I love it now. Go figure.)

Fonzie for President--The Heyettes, 1976. From London label 45. (I kind of like this one. I'm sorry.)

(We're Gonna) Rock Around the Clock Tonight--Al Caiola, 1965. From Tuff Guitar LP.

A Hard Day's Night (L&M)--Al Caiola, 1965. From same album.

Stay warm....



Lee

The Case of the Missing File; 1940 elevator gems

Strange--the 1973 Al Caiola Magnificent Seven file is gone. From Box.net, I mean. I still have the vinyl, luckily. Apologies to those who have encountered the "no shared files" message on that one. I must have deleted it in error, though I don't know why I would have deleted it. (Oh. In error. Never mind.)

But do I know why I do anything? No, I guess not. Case closed.

Then again.... This could be another (echo chamber) Mystery of the Unknown!!! (Chromatically descending muted trumpets: Wah, wah, wah, wah, wahhhhhhh).

And today's installment of Mysteries of the Unknown is brought to you by Raymond Paige and His Orchestra. Oh, and his Youth Orchestra, too. The cover of the LP in question (on RCA Camden) had me going nuts trying to figure out who the "American Youth Orchestra" was--that's how they chose to credit the YO sides. The American Youth Orchestra. Which, of course, had me wondering if they meant Leopold Stokowski's All-American Youth Orchestra from the same period. I did not know.

To the rescue--several Paige listings by a Canadian record dealer that confirmed the "American Youth Orchestra" sides were recorded by Raymond Paige's "Youth Orchestra." Whew. Case closed.

Or could it be another.... (Never mind.)

What we have here are some top-floor examples of 1940 (and 1941) elevator music. Easy listening. Lounge. Light orchestra. Call it what you choose to call it. It's smooth and light. And decades before light was spelled "lite." I think, anyway. Actually, I'm not sure.

Another Mystery of the, etc.?? (Hit it, Raymond):

Stardust (Hoagy Carmichael)--Raymond Paige and His Orchestra, 1940. From RCA Camden LP Stardust.

Andalucia (The Breeze and I; Camarata)--Raymond Paige and His Orchestra, 1940.

Thru' the South--Raymond Paige and His Youth Orchestra, 1941.

That last title was downright spooky. I love it.


Lee

Blogger keeps trying to eat this post. Stop that, Blogger!

Good grief, doesn't Google feed this thing? It has to eat posts to survive? Someone should be investigating this.

I've been feeling sheepish (Baaaaa!) about my January 3 post in which I said I'd be slowing down on account of bandwidth issues. I thought I'd written something really negative and bitter-sounding, but I didn't. It always pays to read back what you've written.

There's really only one part I think I need to elaborate on, or revise, or clarify. One of those. As for the reduced-posting part, bandwidth has been holding steady lately. So I haven't had to reduce my post load. (Post load? I used to write those for church. No, no--I'm thinking of postlude. Hello.)

By the way, I'm typing on little sleep right now. Asthma kept me awake last night, and since this is something that doesn't happen very often, I'm guessing I have a respiratory bug. It would explain my head congestion, the flaring up of my asthma, and that "yucky" feeling going through my person.

It's funny--when I'm feeling good, I never use the word "yucky." ("Oh, that movie was yucky!") Doesn't sound right. Yet, when I'm feeling flu-ish, "yucky" is the best adjective available.

Well, except for "flu-ish." I feel flu-ish. Oh, so flu-ish.

And I wrote about "personal" reasons for cutting back on posting, the second one being the "lack of critical praise aimed at this site." That, after expressing my appreciation for all the nice comments I receive on a daily basis. And after thanking the bloggers who link to me and/or write MY(P)WHAE blurbs. So, what's the "lack of critical praise" I was talking about? Am I not contradicting myself?

No, I never contradict myself. (Yes, I do.) No, I don't. (Yes, and I do it often.) No, and for my own information, I've never done it, often or otherwise. (Shut up.) Make me. (I am me.) Oh.

That's right, I am.

I think I'm afraid that my blog's nonconformist approach is a recipe for fading into the background. I fear this because the Blogosphere--or at least the entertainment part of it--is getting more nichified by the day. A year and a half ago, when I started blogging, I didn't think e.b.'s (entertainment blogs) could possibly become more nichifed. Way back in 1990 or whenever it was, I didn't think Beverly Hills 90210 would be able to keep an audience, either. I watched the pilot and thought, "God, this sucks. People must be falling down laughing at this lameness." And I was right--the show lasted ten episodes and then Fox pulled it.

However, I was wrong about nichification, which I'm betting Spell Check won't recognize as a word. In fact, formats abound in our part of the Blogosphere--it's more niched-out than ever. I was hoping people would break away from the rigid, stick-to-a-single-theme blogging model, but forget that. It's practically the norm.

And so I'm insecure about my future in this niche-happy environment. Or at least I was when I wrote the essay. At the moment, I'm not. Maybe I was simply going through a neurotic phase, one that has passed. A temporary serotonin-reuptake malfunction. Or, perhaps, the realization that Beverly Hills 90210 in fact lasted way past the tenth episode. (Is that possible? Did it??)

And, so, I end this essay feeling as if I've explained absolutely nothing. But I did it so eloquently. You have to give me that.

More music coming up.


Lee

Molly Ivins Tribute

Molly Ivins has passed away at the age of 62. I've reprinted a beautiful tribute from the Creators Syndicate website. It was written by Molly's friend and editor Anthony Zurcher. It's not written in a heart-tugging manner, but it'll tug your heart till it hurts, anyway.

I decided to post Deep in the Heart of Texas, as expertly crooned by Perry Como when he was Ted Weems. My reasons: Because Molly loved Texas, and because she had lots of heart. Her tough exterior was part reality, part act--a kinder and more integrity-driven person never existed. Courage is in the heart.

Also, Deep in the Heart of Texas is upbeat and quietly joyous. Two things Ivins managed to reamin until the moment of her passing. Great people die with great dignity--it seems to be a rule in life. Damn, I'm going to miss this brilliant lady. Me and millions of others.

Deep in the Heart of Texas, Perry Como with Ted Weems, 1942.

MOLLY IVINS BEGAN WRITING HER SYNDICATED COLUMN FOR CREATORS SYNDICATE IN 1992. ANTHONY ZURCHER IS A CREATORS SYNDICATE EDITOR BASED IN AUSTIN, TEXAS, AND HE HAS BEEN MOLLY'S EDITOR AND FRIEND FOR MANY YEARS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION. -- CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.

MOLLY IVINS TRIBUTE
BY ANTHONY ZURCHER

Goodbye, Molly I.

Molly Ivins is gone, and her words will never grace these pages again -- for this, we will mourn. But Molly wasn't the type of woman who would want us to grieve. More likely, she'd say something like, "Hang in there, keep fightin' for freedom, raise more hell, and don't forget to laugh, too."

If there was one thing Molly wanted us to understand, it's that the world of politics is absurd. Since we can't cry, we might as well laugh. And in case we ever forgot, Molly would remind us, several times a week, in her own unique style.

Shortly after becoming editor of Molly Ivins' syndicated column, I learned one of my most important jobs was to tell her newspaper clients that, yes, Molly meant to write it that way. We called her linguistic peculiarities "Molly-isms." Administration officials were "Bushies," government was in fact spelled "guvment," business was "bidness." And if someone was "madder than a peach orchard boar," well, he was quite mad indeed.

Of course, having grown up in Texas, all of this made sense to me. But to newspaper editors in Seattle, Chicago, Detroit and beyond -- Yankee land, as Molly would say -- her folksy language could be a mystery. "That's just Molly being Molly," I would explain and leave it at that.

But there was more to Molly Ivins than insightful political commentary packaged in an aw-shucks Southern charm. In the coming days, much will be made of Molly's contributions to the liberal cause, how important she was as an authentic female voice on opinion pages across the country, her passionate and eloquent defense of the poorest and the weakest among us against the corruption of the most powerful, and the joy she took in celebrating the uniqueness of American culture -- and all of this is true. But more than that, Molly Ivins was a woman who loved and cared deeply for the world around her. And her warm and generous spirit was apparent in all her words and deeds.

Molly's work was truly her passion. She would regularly turn down lucrative speaking engagements to give rally-the-troops speeches at liberalism's loneliest outposts. And when she did rub elbows with the highfalutin' well-to-do, the encounter would invariably end up as comedic grist in future columns.

For a woman who made a profession of offering her opinion to others, Molly was remarkably humble. She was known for hosting unforgettable parties at her Austin home, which would feature rollicking political discussions, and impromptu poetry recitals and satirical songs. At one such event, I noticed her dining table was littered with various awards and distinguished speaker plaques, put to use as trivets for steaming plates of tamales, chili and fajita meat. When I called this to her attention, Molly matter-of-factly replied, "Well, what else am I going to do with 'em?"

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Molly's life is the love she engendered from her legions of fans. If Molly missed a column for any reason, her newspapers would hear about it the next day. As word of Molly's illness spread, the letters, cards, e-mails and gifts poured in.

Even as Molly fought her last battle with cancer, she continued to make public appearances. When she was too weak to write, she dictated her final two columns. Although her body was failing, she still had so much to say. Last fall, before an audience at the University of Texas, her voice began as barely a whisper. But as she went on, she drew strength from the standing-room-only crowd until, at the end of the hour, she was forcefully imploring the students to get involved and make a difference. As Molly once wrote, "Politics is not a picture on a wall or a television sitcom that you can decide you don't much care for."

For me, Molly's greatest words of wisdom came with three children's books she gave my son when he was born. In her inimitable way, she captured the spirit of each in one-sentence inscriptions. In "Alice in Wonderland," she offered, "Here's to six impossible things before breakfast." For "The Wind in the Willows," it was, "May you have Toad's zest for life." And in "The Little Prince," she wrote, "May your heart always see clearly."

Like the Little Prince, Molly Ivins has left us for a journey of her own. But while she was here, her heart never failed to see clear and true -- and for that, we can all be grateful.

To find out more about Molly Ivins and read her past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate web page at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 2007 CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.


Lee

Joel Herron's piano and orchestra

So, yesterday at 'Will, I bought a Joel Herron LP on Westminster--Cole Porter: Night and Day and Other Favorites. 1958, early stereo, mixture of hotel/high-society style, swing, and a slight touch of "modern" jazz. That about describes it. Technically superb, with some brilliant touches in the arrangements, and totally boring.

Problem is, it succeeds too well at being background music. Some background music comes alive when you take the background away. Other background music retains its background--you take the background away, only to discover another one behind it. This is an example of the latter. It evaporates from memory the moment the last note sounds. I mean, the moment after. Whatever.

Report me to the Mundane Observation police if you have to, but this stuff is too good for its own good. Too perfect. If only it were worse, it would be better.

(Meds? Let's see--I had an asthma bout while unclogging the vacuum, so I took a Claritin. That might account for at least some of my mental state right now.) Btw, why do you ask?

Anyway, here's Joel. Like I said, it's great stuff, but I forget I'm listening to it after a couple of titles. The vintage-stereo sound is incredible in its there-ness. The disc, though, is slightly warped, so you won't have to listen hard to get the total analog experience--no invisible noise floor here. You're hear tones bouncing off of it.

Herron was a musical director on TV and radio from 1946-on, and so you can expect flawless work from the guy. Too flawless. (I hear sirens. To the tracks....)

All titles by Cole Porter.

It's Delovely--Joel Herron, His Piano and His Orchestra, 1958. From Westminster LP.

In the Still of the Night--Joel Herron. Not the song made famous by the Five Satins, of course.

Let's Do It--Joel Herron, 1958. (Joel says, "In your dreams, buddy!")

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, 1958--Joel Herron.


Ahhhhh. Early stereo!


Lee

"Happy Days" Theme

Here it is, the re-re-edited recording I talked about last time. And I just noticed that I can display the Henry Winkler cover like a desk photo--there's a punch-out stand on the back.

Wow--my own picture of the "Fonz"! Thrill City, U.S.A.

Happy Days (from soundtrack), from Fonz Favorites LP, 1976.

Listening back, I see that I got the first revised splice just right. After God knows how many tweaks. In its original state, the splice was highly noticeable--now, I have to listen hard to hear it. It required replacing a section, as the original edit chopped off part of a beat. A needed beat.

You know, it's impossible to talk in detail about sound-editing techniques without sounding totally and completely deranged....


Lee

I should have used the Internet

So, I bought a Happy Days-related LP at Goodwill yesterday, and I was thrilled to discover I can finally make out all the words to the Happy Days theme. For instance, "The weekend comes, my cycle hums, ready to race to you." I was also able to make out "These days are ours...." "Ours." Of course. I always wondered what the heck that word was.

"These days are all"? "These days are awe(-inspiring)"? Nope. Ours.

My life now has meaning. Of course, all I ever had to do was go to Blackcatter's World of TV Theme Song Lyrics--specifically, to this page: Happy Days lyrics.

It was written by Norman Gimbel and Charles Fox and performed by Truett Pratt and Jerry McClain. Cool song. I love it, but hearing it in spliced-together LP-track form, I realize it doesn't really function well as a song. Which is not a knock on the thing--it was written as a TV theme, after all, and it couldn't be better in that regard. According to the excellent site cited above, the show lost the rights to use Rock Around the Clock, and so this theme was written.

Now you want to hear it. Coming up--I did some re-editing of the edited LP track, since some of the splices weren't so good. Altering a work of art. That's what I'm guilty of here. A lot of fun, really.

No, all I did was tighten some sloppy edits. And I suspect the original editor was working under a do-it-now deadline. With reel-to-reel tape and a razor blade.

Meanwhile, I'm able to magnify the waveform and fuse cycle fragments precisely. And I've always--since I was 12, at least--wanted to type "fuse cycle fragments precisely."

Soon. You will hear it soon. The digitally-restored version of the chopped-together Happy Days theme.

In other news, it's more frigid than a sorceress's mammary outside the walls of our hundred-year-old abode.


Lee

Monday morning music at MY(P)WHAE--the usual cool pop

We start with a number by the late Joseph Stefano, best-known for penning the screenplay for Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho and for producing the original Outer Limits TV series. His name appears on the label as "Jerry Stevens":

Heartbeat (Joseph Stefano)--Marion Marlowe, 1955. From Cadence 45.

Eileen Rodgers is next, with another Bob (Miracle of Love) Merrill song called Give Me. The flip is very nice, too:

Give Me (Merrill)--Eileen Rodgers with Ray Conniff, 1956. From Columbia 45.

I Wish I Didn't Have to Dream So Far (Chase)--Eileen Rodgers with Ray Conniff, 1956. From same 45.

And, from 1952, Don Howard's Oh, Happy Day (not to be confused with the two gospel numbers that sport the title) and Lawrence Welk's excellent cover version for the Coral label. An early instance of a "pop" cover improving on the original, ilo (in Lee's opinion). Not sure what to call Howard's style--country R&B? The song, with its relentless I-vi-ii-V progression, is pure Earth Angel/In the Still of the Night, except that it lacks a bridge. Oh, well--can't have everything.

While Howard sounds more "authentic," Welk's Larry Hooper has a much better voice. Still, I like both versions. They hit the charts in 1953:

Oh, Happy Day (Don Howard)--Don Howard, 1952. From Essex 45.

Oh, Happy Day (Don Howard)--Larry Hooper with Lawrence Welk and His Champagne Music, 1952. From Coral 78.

Here's the flip of Welk's record, which features a song from Walt Disney's Peter Pan:

Your Mother and Mine (Fain-Cahn)--Roberta Linn with Lawrence Welk and His Champagne Music. From Coral 78.

And, from 1971, we have Peggy Lee singing Burt and Hal's My Rock and Foundation. And singing it well:

My Rock and Foundation (Bacharach-David)--Peggy Lee, 1971. From Capitol LP.

We return to the most versatile Top-40 songwriter of the Fifties, Bob Merrill. Condemned by many for the crime of writing memorable, hummable melodies (which was his job, for Cripe's sake), the late Merrill is loved at this blog. I'm glad so many people think it's so danged easy to write one catchy hit after another. Leethinks said bashers should sell their instant-hit-writing secret to one of the major labels--they'd be rolling in dough for life.

Not that anyone is obligated to like Bob Merrill, but the putdowns of the man invariably revolve around the fact he wrote super-popular songs, as if that were 1) a crime, or 2) something anyone with a spare five minutes could do. Suuuuure.

Anyway, here's a way-above-average Merrill title for Johnny Ray:

Parade of Broken Hearts (Merrill)--Johnny Ray with Joe Reisman and His Orchestra, 1955.

We close with a terrific side by Larry Noble (the flip of Season's Greetings)--an ultra-smooth 1959 big band side that sounds at least ten years earlier. Do I complain? Not in the least! Anything this Merv-with-Freddy-Martin is welcome at this blog:

There Is Room in My Heart--Larry Noble with Peter Pontrelli and His Orchestra, 1959. From 45.

Have a smooth and mellow Monday.


Lee

"Honey, please...."

Happy to see that this one is still out there. At the moment, it's here.

I first saw it in my work e-mail about... oh, seven years ago. Or longer.

A funny-attachment masterpiece.


Lee

Sunday morning gospel--Roy Acuff, Nash Family Trio, Canterbury Choir, Blue Ridge Quartet

Last Sunday, I posted some "Saturday morning gospel"--I just now noticed my typo. Oops.

So, of course, I went back and corrected the mistake to make it appear I never made it. I love the way Blogger allows bloggers to falsify--I mean, correct--history. That capability comes in handy. Bush and Cheney should try it, should they ever settle on a single reason for having invaded Iraq.

And we've got some terrific Sunday morning gospel for your Sunday morning this morning, beginning with Everybody's Gonna Have Religion and Glory, the history of which I've forgotten. I'd researched it for a Fields on Fire post some time back, but I know better than to go by memory. However, I think the song was first titled Gospel Boogie. The info's out there, if you have the time and desire to find it. Just look up Lee Roy Abernathy. Last Saturday's Sunday's Terrible Down Down There is a parody of this song, by the way:

Everybody's Gonna Have Religion and Glory (Abernathy)--Nash Family Trio (1960). From Columbia LP.

The Kingsmen and Pat Boone are two artists who have done good versions of Everybody's..., under the title A Wonderful Time Up There. Now you know.

Here's one I should have put up on MLK Day. Of course, I could always go back and make it look as if I did (by inserting a link after the fact--heh, heh):

I Shall Not Be Moved--The Inspirations. From V.A. LP.

And here's Roy (Great Speckled Bird) Acuff with Hank Williams' I Saw the Light:

I Saw the Light (Williams)--Roy Acuff. From Columbia Special Products gospel LP.

Onward, Christian Soldiers--possibly the most frequently-insulted and P.C.-church-banned hymn of them all--featured another tune prior to the one everyone knows. That tune was by Joseph Haydn (or, rather, adapted from that composer), and it didn't work one-tenth as well. To the rescue: Sir Arthur Sullivan's magnificent 1871 melody, St. Gertude.

Arthur Sullivan of Gilbert and Sullivan fame, of course. I'd dedicate this to the music-hating P.C.'ists (the sort incapable of understanding such advanced literary devices as metaphor) who have censored it from hymnals across the land, but they aren't fit to lick its bootstraps:

Onward, Christian Soldiers (Baring-Gould-Arthur Sullivan)--The Canterbury Choir, 1957. From MGM LP.

May this great hymn survive the nitwits who've assailed it. In Jesus's name, we pray. Amen.

I asked a conservative Christian friend what he thought of the next hymn, and he said, "Not bad for a song that sounds like a soap commercial." He's right, too....

Lewis E. Jones wrote the words and music for this classic in 1899.

There's Power in the Blood--Blue Ridge Quartet. From LP.

This one came 41 years later, though it sounds just as old. Luther G. Presley wrote the words and music. It shows up in Johnny Cash's mother's ancient 1956 Stamps-Baxter songbook:

I'll Have a New Life (Presley)--Southern-Aires Gospel Singers. From LP.

We close with You Go to Your Church (and I'll Go to Mine), a song written around 1930 by one Seth Parker (Phillips Lord):

You Go to Your Church (and I'll Go to Mine) (Phillips Lord)--Joe Emerson, 1960. From RCA Victor LP.


More to come next Saturday! I mean, Sunday....



Lee