Category: All Posts

Re-recording

Recently, I offered some Beatles studio session outtakes of HELP! , and before that an outtake of I Feel Fine, and in the comments I made mention of “The Beatles Recording Sessions,” by Mark Lewisohn. As pointed out by best buddy Denro, Lewisohn admits his 1988 book is now superceded by “Recording the Beatles,” a $100 tome that is essentially self-published by its authors, Kevin Ryan and Brian Kehew.

I had no idea of this book’s existence until today. The first printing of 3000 copies is sold out, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the second printing is already spoken for. But I’d better get in line, as this is an irresistable item that, despite the expense, I must have.

Click here to read a New York Times article about Recording the Beatles, and other self-published Beatles books. If that link asks for a registration you don’t want to have, click here instead.

Dr. Macro’s Vision

Somebody calling himself Dr. Macro has posted a lot of super high quality scans of old movie stills, along with many movie clips in WMV format. Worth a look, so click here. Above and below are a couple of stills that he doesn’t have. Grace Kelly sure looked a lot less glamorous without makeup.

Turn Me On Whitcomb

Of all the many people that L.A. writer Mark Evanier hangs with, I wasn’t expecting Ian Whitcomb. Click here to see. Stan Freberg? That’s a given, but Ian Whitcomb?

Whitcomb is an interesting gent. Originally from Ireland, Ian is known first and best in the U.S. for this hit 1965 song.

This record is notorious for having been played endlessly in dance clubs and bars that cater to an all-male clientele. Here’s a YouTube video of Whitcomb performing “You Turn Me On!” on the American TV show Shindig!

Whitcomb is actually a serious music expert and performer of old Ragtime and Tin Pan Alley songs, although my recollection is that at the outset of his career his primary interest was in Blues, as it was for so many UK youth of that era. Lots more about Whitcomb can be seen here.

Ross Revisited

The Ross Bagdasarian post was fun, so let’s listen to something else from his label, Liberty Records. In 1956 Ross was handed a demo from a musician friend named Mark McIntyre, featuring his daughters Patience, 11, and Prudence, 14, singing an old song called “Tonight You Belong to Me.”

Bagdasarian loved it, passed it up the chain, and the girls were brought into the studio. They harmonized beautifully, and their voices were perfectly suited to the material. The recordings have an adorable and ethereal quality, and although McIntyre is listed as producer I wouldn’t be surprised if Bagdasarian lent a hand in the production.

Gun-Slinging and Singing

[flv:http://www.dograt.com/Movies/Wordpress/DEC06/ManWithoutStar.flv 400 300]

As mentioned in the last posting, we now have a Panasonic DVD recorder. The VCR it’s replacing will be used for video transfers to the computer. My first DVD test recording was made with no thought whatsoever, other than it happened to start moments after I had the unit set up. But, as it turns out, it’s a movie that might be worth a mention here.

Man Without a Star is a 1955 Western starring Kirk Douglas. It hasn’t been released on DVD, and I guess I can see why, as it’s fairly typical for its time. It was directed, however, by noteworthy director King Vidor, whose career dates back to the Silent era. The movie features gorgeous Jeanne Crain in her prime.

Also appearing was William Campbell, who seemed to be making an effort to appear straight. He later played the flamboyant and incredibly annoying character Trelane in the Star Trek episode “The Squire of Gothos.” Am I getting nerdy enough for you? But wait, there’s more! Campbell’s wife in the 50’s was Judith Campbell, who became a girlfriend of Frank Sinatra. She later claimed to have been JFK’s mistress at the same time she was seeing mobster Sam Giancana.

I got a big laugh out of seeing that even in the 1950’s cowboys were still singing and yodeling! I don’t know who dubbed Kirk Douglas’ singing in “Man Without a Star,” but it’s bad enough that maybe it was Douglas himself. Frankie (“Rawhide!”) Laine sang the overwrought title song.