I grew up between the two golden ages of Disney animation, when less-loved creations like ‘The Rescuers’ (’77) and ‘The Fox and the Hound’ (’81) portended a protracted slump from which the studio wouldn’t emerge until ‘The Little Mermaid’ leapt ashore at the end of ’89.
Some years ago, not long after we met, @kajigger and I started collecting these limited picture-disc pressings of soundtracks from classic Disney animated films alongside Pixar treasures and a few recordings related to Disneyland attractions (see my third post in this series, from Nov 26, for evidence of that). Our tally of titles is pushing two dozen; they’d make an eye-grabbing display if we ever framed ‘em.
Contrary to the impression I might have given with the sixth post in this ongoing series surveying past glories of A&M Records — I spend #TuesdaysWithJerry to remember late great mogul Jerry Moss — Joe Cocker was not in fact the first rock act signed to the rapidly rising label.
If anyone was entitled to craft New Age-y yacht-rock with a dash of disco by the dawn of 1979, it was the Beach Boys. Except that’s giving them way too much credit, as if they’d planned to do exactly that — when in fact L.A. (Light Album), perhaps the group’s most forgettable collection, is nothing but a hodgepodge of solo material patched together to keep CBS Records from suing them for breach of contract, lest they turn in zero music two years after signing to that label.
Took a look at the trailer for this early Taylor Hackford thriller, as well as the oft-aired video for Phil Collins’s Oscar-nominated, Grammy-winning title ballad, to see if that might jar any memories of actually having seen this loose ‘n’ lusty remake of Jacques Tourneur’s film noir masterpiece ‘Out of the Past.’
This once-buried treasure from August ‘77 is the very definition of a cult classic, like Skip Spence’s Oar or Chris Bell’s I Am the Cosmos. The sole solo album from the least significant (yet still considerably talented) Wilson brother, Pacific Ocean Blue has been expounded upon aplenty. Much of that revisionist praise hits the mark, but boasts of ‘you must hear this before you die’ strike me as overinflated.
We’re still inching our way toward the ‘70s, a stylistically packed decade that will see A&M Records (the focus of this #TuesdaysWithJerry offshoot of #VinylTwosDays) swing from soft pop to hard rock to new wave by the time that era’s glittering New Year’s Eve ball dropped into 1980.
First off: Could they have picked a more distant, boring, pointless photo for this thing?
The frenetically blurry pic adorning the original Live back in December ‘80 said everything. This poorly framed glimpse taken from Loge 57 Row Z says absolutely nothing beyond ‘these are the five people in this band.’ The shot of them embracing inside the gatefold would have made a much better cover.
I did warn you there would be more of this stuff. Nearly a quarter of the way through this century we have easy access to the cream of Fleetwood Mac’s concert crop from three-quarters of the way through the previous century — and at this point that almost seems by design.
Mick Fleetwood was keen to put out a live set not long after ‘Rumours’ arose but the rest of the band shot the idea down. Didn’t stop them from recording an estimated 400 shows between ’75 and ’80 during increasingly in-demand tours that built this particular Mac’s reputation almost as much as their multiplatinum monoliths.
This wasn’t the pairing I planned to present today for the 10th installment of my #TuesdaysWithJerry series, an ongoing look at the history of A&M Records (cofounded by the late Jerry Moss) that I’ve hitched to ye olde #VinylTwosDays wagon, captained each week by @vinyl_is_life.