Randophonic is foremost a radio program that airs pretty much every Saturday night starting at 11pm (Pacific time) on CiTR.FM.101.9. You can read more about all that here.
For the time being, this blog will be a two-headed beast as it endeavours to:
A. keep track of what’s happening on-air (including regular links to podcast and streaming options). Our current concern in this regard is The Solid Time of Change (aka the 661 Greatest Records of the so-called Prog Rock era),
B. review some of our history, specifically Philip Random’s All Vinyl Countdown and Apocalypse (aka the 1,111 Greatest Records You’ve Probably Never Heard), which we’re revisiting one track at a time, one day at a time, for however long it takes.
Download Randophonic podcasts via this archive. Stream Randophonic programs via our Mixcloud. Stay on top of day to day stuff via our Facebook. Youtube playlists etc can be found here.
It’s 1969 with the Euro hippie underground is in a state of serious flux and eruption in the wake of all the uprisings and insurrections of 1968. Nevertheless, Can (four German weirdoes and their American singer, poet, frontman who will soon go at least slightly mad) find a few moments to throw down a strange little ditty about the Upduff family and their troubled trip to Italy. WARNING: if your grandma dies while traveling in a region populated by well organized car theft rings, don’t wrap her up in a tarp and tie her to the top of the car.
Two in a row from Joe Walsh‘s The Smoker You Drink, The Player You Get. Everybody knows the big deal hit, the one about getting high, the Rocky Mountain way, and it’s a classic. But that goes for the whole album, a set of songs that are thankfully not all trying to be the same thing. In the case of Midnight Moodies, that means a cool instrumental groover, ideal for late night driving in warm climes. And then, it’s seamlessly into the reggae stylings (years before such became a soft rock cliché) of Happy Ways, which is truth in advertising. “One of the most genuinely happy songs I know. Dig into it a bit, and you discover it’s really bassist Kenny Passarelli‘s tune, who took the lead vocal, and he co-wrote it (as he did Rocky Mountain Way). All hail Barnstorm, the band. And Joe Walsh for letting everyone shine.” (Philip Random)
“In which Peter Tosh (ex of the Wailers) takes a Joe Higgs original about being dangerous indeed, and very much makes it very much his own. “It was released in 1977 but I didn’t really connect with it until the late 80s when so-called Gangsta rap was starting to hit hard, turning the uttering of threats into a functional musical vocabulary. Ah, the good ole days.” (Philip Random)
“If this was Texas, this song wouldn’t be on this list. Because we’d all know the Sir Douglas Quintet for the geniuses they were, Doug Sahm in particular. Hell we’d all probably be well sick of She’s About a Mover by now. But here (ie: everywhere else but Texas really) it’s a neglected rarity at best – the kind of thing you find at a yard sale, in the back of a box of 7-inch 45s, not even in a sleeve. Cost me twenty-five cents.” (Philip Random)
The Solid Time of Change is our overlong yet incomplete history of the so-called Prog Rock era – 661 selections from 1965 through 1979 with which we hope to do justice to a strange and ambitious time indeed, musically speaking.
Part Forty of the journey went as follows:
Yes – yours is no disgrace
Richard Harris – MacArthur Park
Todd Rundgren – international feel
Todd Rundgren – never never land
Todd Rundgren – tic tic tic it wears off
Todd Rundgren – Zen Archer
Todd Rundgren -Le Feel Internacìonále
Pretty Things – Baron Saturday
Pretty Things – the journey
Pretty Things – I see you
Pink Floyd – astronomy domine
Peter Hammill – modern
Van Der Graaf Generator – a plague of lighthouse keepers
Mothers of Invention- eat that question
King Crimson – Asbury Park
Fresh episodes air pretty much every Saturday night, starting 11 pm (Pacific time) c/o CiTR.FM.101.9, with streaming and download options available within twenty-four hours via our Facebook page.
In which Sly + the Family Stone remind us that there was once a time in which all of life’s travails could be reconciled by the singing of a simple song. That’s what the mid-late 1960s were like apparently, particularly if you were in San Francisco, hanging with all the beautiful people, doing all the beautiful drugs, and you had the funk.
Die young and rest assured, some record industry hack will make damned sure no recording that bears your name will remain lost on any shelf. Which, in the case of Gram Parsons, is a good thing, as it got us this straight up, true as nature take on Merle Haggard’s ballad about a guy who’s due to hang tomorrow, and he’s as ready as he’s ever gonna be. All credit to the rest of the Flying Burrito Bros, too, of course.
Ian and Sylvia being the Tysons (husband and wife) and that rarity among Canadian artists of their era – they made it before government-imposed radio play quotas became a thing. “Special thanks to my friend Andrew’s mom, because she was the only parent I knew who seemed to generally care about music, and thus had a few decent records. Nothing heavy mind you – just good solid easy-to-listen-to options like Simon and Garfunkel, Neil Diamond, Moody Blues, and more obscure stuff, which Andrew and I spent many hours exploring – both of us still young and fresh enough to dig something even if it wasn’t driven by heavy guitars and appeals to Satan.” (Philip Random)
“One more from that lost and forgotten alt-reality wherein the 1980s were everything they should have been and a record like the Undertones‘ Love Parade hit the toppermost of the poppermost – melodic, soulful, full of light, and so damned popular we all got sick of it. But it wasn’t so we didn’t, so thank all gods for that. And man, that Feargal Sharkey could sing.” (Philip Random)