
Some months back I picked this up for a penny under $4 at the wonderful downtown must-go treasure trove @lastbookstorela for two specific reasons:

Some months back I picked this up for a penny under $4 at the wonderful downtown must-go treasure trove @lastbookstorela for two specific reasons:
Revisiting A&M Records No. 32
‘Liza Minnelli’ (February ’68)
Despite its self-titling, this is far from the debut of Judy’s daughter. By the time she was about to turn 22 and relaunch her recording career via the auspices of Mr. A & Mr. M, Minnelli had already issued three LPs for Capitol Records, starting with ‘Liza! Liza!’ in ’64, the same year she embarked on her first national theatrical run as Luisa in the touring production of ‘The Fantasticks.’
But the reality remained that after four years of working her young tail off — including landing the lead in ‘Flora the Red Menace,’ her Broadway debut — Liza was still struggling to step out from her mother’s formidable shadow.
Twas inevitable that my alphabetically constrained series for #SoundtrackSunday would require addendums along the way. So when I came across two titles at DTLA’s treasure-filled Last Bookstore (@lastbookstorela) earlier this week, both in solid condition and at appealing prices (snagged ‘em for under $10 total), I didn’t hesitate to alter the trajectory while I’m still in the A’s. (This is the first of two such posts today.)
Initially I’d planned for this lengthy look back at A&M Records to be a series of twofers, the better to coincide with #VinylTwosDays, a weekly scene I’m always happy to join. But as I started sorting through titles and structuring future installments, it quickly occurred to me that not everything will pair up so pleasingly.
Like so many other platinum acts from A&M Records’s pre-rock catalog, the Carpenters struck me even from a single-digit age as featherlight schlock, inescapably omnipresent (especially in the ‘70s) but instantly dismissed by Gen X’ers (I’m one) who had yet to grow out of ironic hipster attitudes toward everything straight-laced and square.
Some of you surely remember as fondly as I do how that outlook changed dramatically for the better via the 1994 compilation ‘If I Were a Carpenter.’ At the height of grunge, here was an earnestly sincere salute to all this sterling popcraft we’d never properly appreciated.
Like so many other milestones from the early A&M Records catalog, these records were always a reach away in my pre-digital childhood home — yet rarely were they played. I’ve always put their neglect down to the instant antiquity of ever-changing styles.