WARNING – Like a ‘Carry On Film,’ this post may contain bawdiness and lewdness, and when I say ‘may,’ I mean it will.
I’m bored. The sex slaves in the dungeon are exhausted and if I have to hear one more “please, just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I may well snap. So what better way to unwind, than to listen to some sweet melodious harmonies. Yes, that’s right; it’s that time once again. A time to whip out my box, spread it wide open and let you all have a damned good gander at what I have on offer. You guys should realise just how lucky you all are, because people come from miles around to feast their eyes upon my sacred box. Some even dip into my box from time to time, which can get a tad annoying. I keep telling them to use their whole hands and not just their fingers when handling my box, but it seems that the days when people knew how to properly handle vinyl, are long gone.
So first out of my box of musical delights, is an aspiring piece by Dave Stephens.
Now I don’t know about you, but I have always held a fascination for organs of every size and colour and this album brings back such fond memories from back in my teenage years. At the time, my best friend’s dad had a huge organ and he would often let us play around with it in the comfort of their living room. Often then not though, I would love when he played with it himself. Oh the noises that he could emit from that pleasurable organ, always caused a tingle down my spine. I remember vividly how he would try to teach me the best way in which to handle his organ, but I could never stretch my fingers wide enough to reach along the full length…Oh apologies, I lost internet connection for a minute before I could complete that sentence which was; I could never stretch my fingers wide enough to reach along the full length of the keyboards.
Ah, here we have the delightful and dulcet tones of the Cooper family, with ‘I’m God’s Child.’
They may all well be the ‘Child of God’, but mother definitely looks more like the Mistress of Satan.
Next up, we have the Wankas.
The Wankas were very popular in their heydays and were widely recognised wherever they went. They would often draw cries of, “oh look, there goes those bunch of Wankas” and after a thrilling performance, “Oh what a bunch of Wankas they are.”
Now, I am quite partial to a ‘call and response’ song. You know the ones, where an artist will sing one line of a song and the audience will sing another in response. Here we have three ‘call and response’ albums. The first from this wonderful quartet, where the members argues about which one of them gets to do the naughty deed.
In his response album, Andy Carroll tries to confirm their intent with the teasingly and widely acclaimed…
Unfortunately, it seems that ‘The touch’ went slightly awry as we discover in Mrs B’s follow up album/police statement.
And finally, we have Svetlana Gruebbersolvik, cousin to the great female composer Onya Baccubitch, with the classic ‘My Lips Are For Blowing.’
Oh, this takes me back to the days where I could often be found in the music room with an instrument between my gums. I was quite a dab hand at the recorder in my day and my music teacher Peter File, would keep me blowing for hours. Often he would grow frustrated as my blowing technique was all over the place. “Blow harder,” he would shout, or “blow more gentle and don’t use your teeth, as they tightened around the recorder.” My main problem was that my grip wasn’t firm enough in order to hold tight and keep up the rhythm and after the relentless hours of practicing, my jaw would ache as a result.
Anyway, enough about my history with blowing wood…Oh sorry, internet connection got lost again; let me begin that sentence once more. Anyway, enough about my history with blowing woodwind instruments. This concludes this month’s peek into my music collection, so join me next time, where will be delving further into my musical archive.