The B-52′s by The B-52′s (Warner Bros/1979) – With the mainstream slowly catching up to them over the decades, it may be hard to remember what a radical album this was upon its release. Perhaps not as ‘in your face’ radical as the No Wave bands of the same era, but every bit so, in a sneakier way. Listening to the old vinyl, I’m remembering. The B’s may have been from Down South, but instrumentally they cranked out as much downtown skronk as anyone from Southern Manhattan. Ricky Wilson’s guitar sound was so unique, with his detuned, 4 stringed Mosrite (which I had forgotten about until the photo on the liner reminded me). One part rock ‘n’ roll twang, one part primeval raunch. Add hard punching dance beats on the drums and careful keyboard colorings for a band that found a new way to subvert, avoiding the already tiring buzzsaw guitars of punk. But that’s only half the picture. On top of that, you got a deviant take on the traditional vocal group — with inventive arrangements, theatrically shared leads and bizarre vocal sound effects. Not quite the way the Mills Brothers would have done it, but the DNA is there. And belated kudos to Cindy Wilson for her untamed and always passionate vocals. Listening now, I realize how valuable her contributions were. Listen to Hero Worship for a shining example of total, full-body commitment to a vocal performance. Wow. For the lyrics, US pop culture of the atomic age was thrown into a blender — any of us could find cartoonish shards of our own lives floating around in there. I always imagined the (early) B’s as a band you might find playing in a basement rec room while young kids play wacky old Milton Bradley board games. Or maybe I imagine them as a band based on wacky old Milton Bradley board games — Mousetrap, perhaps. It was, what’s the word… hilarious, yes, to see Rock Lobster slowly build into a novelty hit a year or so later.

Now, about the first time I heard the album. I had already read about the B’s in NY Rocker or Trouser Press, but I didn’t actually hear them until an afternoon in the week of the album’s release in July 1979. WPRB, Princeton, played the track 52 Girls (“wow, great!” would have been my thought), and the DJ noted that they would be playing the whole album that evening. This was a regular night time feature at ‘PRB that summer, playing a new album straight through without interruption, just a break to flip sides (facilitating those naughty home tapers who were “killing music”). I had my cassette ready. Now for me, living in the boondocks as always, ‘PRB was a pretty weak signal, so I had to switch my receiver to mono to clean up the signal — right there, you’re pushing the sound further into the primitive. On top of that, there were thunderstorms in the area between me and Princeton that night, making for weird static and crunches. Was this a bad thing? No, it totally enhanced that ‘mysterious transmission from space’ production aspect of Planet Claire and extended it to the whole album. I bought the vinyl not too long after, but it was never as cool as the space-fi sound of that cassette. Wish I still had it. And that sums up what the B-52′s sounded like in summer 1979: a cool and mysterious transmission accidently beaming in from outer space. Has it really been 30 years?

This was all set off by Maria T’s recent (more or less, maybe already a couple of months ago) spin of 52 Girls on yes, WPRB (I’d link to the playlist, but can’t seem to find it anymore).

And now I’ve set a new Irregular Orbit record for longest sidebar piece ever.

Anthology Of American Folk Music by various artists (Folkways/1952) – Harry Smith’s legendary collection is the grandfather of all ‘old music’ compilations. I wondered how it would set now in the age of the CD re-issue, when so many compilers have followed in its footsteps (and I’ve listened to many of them). Would it be just another batch of old rekkid sides? No — it really is “all that.” Smith made an excellent selection of tunes and sequenced them in a remarkably artful manner. It still works.

J.S. Bach: Cello Suites Nos. 1-6 by Pablo Casals (Naxos/2000) – Vivid 1920s and 30s recordings of Bach’s cello suites by the artist who brought them into the modern performance repertoire. Intense performances and rather nice sound quality.

Strummin’ Mental, Parts One and Two by various artists (Crypt/199?) – Two separate CDs of joyfully obscure late 1950s to mid-1960s rock instrumentals. This batch does cover the fabled twang ‘n’ surf era with 32 sides a piece, waxed by unknown American kids gone mad with the power of electric guitars. Points off for zero information on the bands or tunes.

Everything You Always Wanted To Know About 60′s Mind Expansive Punkadelic Garage Rock Instrumentals But Were Afraid To Ask by various artists (Arf! Arf!/1993) – Another fully loaded Arf! Arf! comp. This one is filled with rock instrumentals. But rather than covering the usual twang ‘n’ surf era, this covers the mid to late-60s fuzz ‘n’ wah era. The smelly full flowering of psych, the earthy roots of metal and prog to come. Obscure, amazing and fun.

30 Seconds Before The Calico Wall by various artists (Arf! Arf!/1995) – A sequel of sorts to Beyond The Calico Wall, equally packed to capacity with wildly obscure ’60s psych sides, but staying just this side of that wall of insanity. I’ll have a Sound Sandwich on toasted rye to go, please.

Beyond The Calico Wall by various artists (Voxx/1993) – A jam-packed compilation of 1960s US psych that digs way deeper and weirder than the average bear. Terrific stuff — the instant cure for cutesy fake retro psych.

Psychedelic Microdots Of The Sixties by various artists (Sundazed/1989-92) – This was a series of three separate (and now out of print) discs from Sundazed, titled: Orange, Sugar & Chocolate; Texas Twisted and My Rainbow Life. Good, solid compilations of 1960s US psychedelic garage rock, going a little farther than the usual suspects, but a bit sparse with only 18 tracks a piece.

The Sun Years by Howlin’ Wolf (Blues Factory/2000) – Well, Wolf was never actually on the Sun label, but this disc collects some of his early Memphis recordings at Sam Phillips’ studio. Tends to be a little jazzier than his later Chicago tracks for Chess. I dig Willie Johnson’s crunchy yet snazzy guitar work.

Barrett by Syd Barrett (Harvest-EMI/1970) – Syd’s second and final solo album is more controlled and consistent than The Madcap Laughs, perhaps not to its benefit. Good stuff, but I still like him best on his own with an acoustic guitar.