Today’s terrible tune comes from the pen of one Eric Paul
Smith, an architect from Audenshaw, Manchester who woke up one day in 1981 and –
inspired by the recent news of their engagement - decided to write a waltz to
celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Charles, Prince of Wales and his fiancée,
Lady Diana Spencer.
Up until this point Eric had, as far as I am aware, no
previous experience in the recording industry, but that didn’t stop him. Not
only did he write the song, a miserable little ditty entitled My Lady Diana,
he also funded the entire operation, setting up his own EPS label to market and
distribute the disc.
Eric even went as far as to send a copy to the Prince and
soon-to-be Princess at Buckingham Palace, receiving a nice letter back from
Charles’s office telling him that ‘his Royal Highness much appreciates your kind
thought in composing and sending this gift’ and thanking him ‘most warmly’.
With vocals by club singer Lynn Bryan, due in part to Eric’s
lack of experience the record sank without a trace. Sad, because according to his
local newspaper, Eric had hoped that ‘it would be a hit,’ and that ‘it would be
a real honour if it were played for the waltz to start off the Royal Wedding
ball.’ Still, he was in good company: there is a plethora of Diana-inspired
discs out there. All are terrible and (almost) all were quickly consigned to
the bargain bins.
Sadly, Eric’s muse only lasted for the one song: the b-side
to the single is an instrumental version of the same tune, with Ms. Bryan’s tepid
vocals replaced by a nasty synth wash. Still, I had to listen to both sides, so
you can too!
Just a short blog today, partly because I am away from home
currently but also because I wanted to get another couple in before we begin
our annual Christmas Cavalcade. But mostly because I am staying in a Hallmark
Hotel.
Today’s disc is something a bit special, all four tracks
from a mid-to-late-period EP from the Halmark song-poem studio. Well, I had
assumed that, it’s impossible to tell for sure, but a little research shows
that the disc was minted around 1973, so that would be right. Plus a couple of
the music beds utilised on this particular release from Ted Rosen’s song-poem
company are among the more rare of their regular accompaniments. I certainly cannot
immediately recall having heard the tune used behind the astounding The
Suffering of a Serviceman’s Wife or opening track Honeymoon On The Moon before.
Those two cuts are the standout tracks on this EP, both sung
by Halmark staffer Mary Kimmell. My friend Bob Purse had previously blogged
this, and as he rightly noted all four tracks are credited to Bob Storm on the
disc’s label, despite two of them clearly being sung by a woman. The other two,
much more pedestrian cuts – the wonderfully-titled Trench Coat, Umbrella and
Boots and the eminently forgettable Unapproachable – do indeed come from
Halmark’s regular male solo vocalist Bob Storm. Those last two songs were both copywrited
by “arranger” Jerry Dee in 1973... the cheeky beggar: the arrangements for
these and pretty much every disc ever issued by Halmark (and subsidiary labels
Chapel and Grand) cam straight of an open reel of ½ inch tape. Anyway, at least
it helps us date the disc.
The tune used on the final cut on the EP, The Suffering
of a Serviceman’s Wife sounds like it could have been written for a
third-rate James Bond rip-off, but the 60s spy flick ambience is a little at
odds with the lyrics, which tell the harrowing tale of a (rather selfish, if
you ask me) young woman bemoaning her lot now that hubby is back from Vietnam, somewhat
the worse for wear. My mind boggles at why she would chose to call him ‘half a
man’, the thoughtless trollop, but maybe he lost something fundamental to her
happiness overseas.
These particular cuts come from my own copy of the EP. I’ve
given it a bit of a clean up and I hope it isn’t too crackly for you!
What can I tell you about Mad Charles, the world’s first
karate robot, or the man behind it/him, Eugene G. Viscione?
In 1975 Eugene Viscione, under the name “UGE” (eUGEne,
geddit?) released a single dedicated to the amazing Mad Charles. The incredible
psychedelic fuzz guitar work can’t hide the fact that Mad Charles is a ridiculously silly record.
Viscione was a barber from New Jersey who began writing
songs in 1957. He also fancied himself as an inventor, and Mad Charles was one
of his many creations.
Charles himself even appeared on the disc’s label. The record
was issued twice, first with Mad Charles Love Theme on the flip, which
was later replaced with the oddly-titled Sophie the Polish Chicken Hen, a
song Eugene had written back in 1970. Mad Charles Love Theme features
the lovelorn Charles singing to his girlfriend, Charlene, and can be seen in Part
Two of the video (below).
Viscione was an odd duck. Working since the early 1960s, he
had made a series of recordings for the Cleopatra label, including the
ridiculously overwrought Parting Kiss, before setting up his own WGW
Records (which issued Mad Charles) and, in the 1980s, Viscione Records, releasing
a series of singles as Eugene (often with added parentheses for dramatic effect),
but also producing and/or providing songs for a roster that included The Werps,
D. Spade and Co., and Keep Off the Grass as Geno Viscione. My personal
favourite is a single Eugene issued in 1989 called Hubert, the Fat Elf. Eugene
shot his own ‘holiday special’ to accompany that particular release, using his
kids as actors and including 10 self-composed songs. The show aired on local
cable channel C-Tec in 1990.
Eugene Viscione, who at one point had his own recording
studio situated in the Rustic Mall in Manville, New Jersey, which shared space
with his barber shop, died in September 2009, aged 75 having enjoyed a 56-year
long marriage to his devoted wife, Mary. Luckily for us he left behind an
amazing body of work, much of which has been collected by the Numero Group, and
issued as Fresh Cuts With Eugene Viscione. Sadly, the collection does
not include Viscione’s tribute to his favourite president, his 1982 composition
The Reagan March.
Sadly, I do not possess a copy of either pressing of the
single, although one is winging its way towards me as I type. I shall update
the sound files when it arrives, but for now i am now the proud owner of a copy of this wonderful oddity, so here for your delectation are both sides of the first version of the disc, Mad Charles and Mad Charles Love Theme, along with the earlier-mentioned Parting Kiss.
If you want to see Mad Charles - and Eugene - in action, here is the
instructional video: Mr Viscione is the man in the colourful shirt and football helmet. Those of a nervous or overly Politically Correct
disposition should probably avoid Part Two, which features ad-hoc promotional
videos for both sides of the single, but includes some horribly racist and
outdated depictions of Asians (and female robots).
UPDATE: Following a lead from Bob (see below), I managed to track down the original Mad Charles press release from 1973. Here it is, warts and all:
Mad Charles ™ Helps in the following areas:
Self-defense
Recreation
Karate
Training
Exercise
Boxing
Defense enterprises, incorporated is introducing the most
Advanced model of patented automated exercise, recreation and training machine.
Each machine is custom built with the users safety and a product with life long
durability as foremost concerns, Mad Charles ™ enables anyone from the novice
karate student (or person just wanting to learn how to defend themself) up to
the black-belt karate expert. Mad Charles can help develop general reaction
time by speeding up the attacking limbs. Each limb can operate (chop-
vertically or horizontally)independently of one another for greater reaction development. Mad
Charles ™ simulates an attacker, where the student must block the oncoming,
moving limb and physically hit one of the built-in targets as hard or soft as
you desire.
If you have an established course in self-defense or karate,
or are thinking of starting one, Mad Charles ™ is indispensable for student
exercise, recreation and training.Mad Charles
is a great addition to you're karate school.
In twelve years, and in over 540 posts (this is, in fact, blog post 543) how on earth (pun intended) have I managed to ignore writing about the Christian Astronauts, otherwise known as the Shoup family from Fremont, Ohio, and their one classic album Beyond the Blue?
I did include them in a
write-up on Christian music in The World’s Worst Records Volume One, but
for those who have not read the book yet, let me introduce you to one of the weirdest
and most wonderful records this side of Into Outer Space with Lucia Pamela.
This delightfully amateur outer space epic first appeared in
1971. Dean Shoup (referred to on the album’s liner notes and throughout their
10-year career as Captain Shoup), like Marcy Tigner, was a self-taught
ventriloquist who realised that America's fascination with space travel could
provide him with a platform for spreading the gospel.
Advertising himself as “one
of the world’s leading ventriloquists” and as a “gospel magician” (whatever
that may be), Dean and his family toured America and filmed more than 300
episodes of a cable-TV children's ministry programme, also called Beyond the
Blue, which was broadcast in the Washington state area. The cast included
his wife Connie (a.k.a. Sister Shoup), kids Rick and Michelle (also known as Shelly), Jerry
(a shrill-voiced ventriloquist’s dummy) and his grandmother, and starred a
seven-foot tall robot, Loosenut, apparently fashioned from cardboard boxes and
tin foil but which came equipped with flashing eyes and moving arms and who
sounded, unsurprisingly, exactly like the good captain. In 1972, after the
album was released, the family would be joined by their third and last child,
son Brent. sadly I have been unable to find any footage of the TV show... but I'm sure it's out there somewhere.
The brilliance of Beyond The Blue lies, in part, to
the obvious lack of money spent on the project: Captain Shoup provides all of
the sound effects as well as the voices for the non-human members of the ship’s
crew and the album’s narrative content, while Sister Shoup’s whole raison
d’etre seems to be to chirrup through a handful of hymns.
According to the sleeve notes: “Capt. Shoup is in the pilot
seat and Loosenut is the co-pilot. Lt. Green is sitting at the computer giving
us assistance in helping us to stay on course, using the Bible for the flight
manual”. It’s childish, cheap and utterly charming: Captain Shoup’s stumbling
delivery only adding to the album’s appeal.
Despite the Christian Astronauts delivering their last
earthly sermon in 1981, it’s my hope that the Shoups, Jimmy, Granny and Loosenut
are still out there preaching the good word in a galaxy far, far away. Originally
issued by Gospel Empire Records, the album received a limited reissue, on CDR, from
outsider music specialists Companion Records a few years ago, fully endorsed by
Captain Shoup himself. Sadly, this has now sold out, but you can hear a couple
of tracks here, My Heart Is Reserved (sung by Rick) and I’ll Never Be
The Same (sung by Michelle).
Inspired by a recent comment on this here very blog, I have
just purchased a copy of the rather splendid Eleven Plus Two by brother
and sister act the Twintones. And I’m so glad that I did.
Issued by Cornish
independent Summit Records in 1974, Eleven Plus Two houses the entire
(as far as I am aware, anyway) recorded output of The Twintones. It’s a name
oft employed by bands, but this particular act consisted of twins Kay and Gary Tucker,
who hailed from the village of Nanpean, approximately 4 miles north-west of St
Austell.
It’s a fun little record, and for pre-teens – the album was
recorded when they were just eleven-years-old - these kids are really quite
accomplished. Kay played keyboards and Gary drummed, although the duo also
dabbled in other instruments, as can be heard on their recording of Remember
You're A Womble, whereKay also plays trombone and Gary plays euphonium.
The album features an odd mix of family-friendly standards,
from recent chart hits including Popcorn and Y Viva España (rendered
“Eviva Espana” on the sleeve) to a rousing rendition of the Dambusters March
and Ode To Joy. Still, you have to admit, the noise of heels
clipping across the floor on These Boots Were Made for Walking (the addition of a 'g' at the end of walkin' is all-important) is
inspired, and the duo almost manage to keep time to it. “This engineer, Alan,
brought in a plank of wood and wore cowboy boots, and walked in the same rhythm
as the piece, to embellish what we were doing,”* Kay explains.
Banana Rock, although mentioned in the sleeve
notes and sandwiched on side two of the album between Ode To Joy and Melody
Waltz (a tune composed by Kay herself), isn’t credited nor included in the track listing. A shame, as it’s
the duos only vocal. It’s the second tip of the hat on the LP to the then-hugely
popular kids’ TV show (and earlier book series) The Wombles, and to Mike Batt’s
musical group of the same name. Coincidentally, the two tracks recorded by the
Twintones bookended the album Remember You're A Womble, issued in the
same year as Eleven Plus Two.Banana Rock provided the Wombles
withtheir third consecutive Top ten single in June 1974.
Sadly, everything about the packaging and marketing of this
is half-arsed. The cover photo appears to be a blow up of a dimly-lit Polaroid,
and Gary was none too impressed with the result: “The sleeve looked very dull
to me, for two youngsters. They just used a flash camera, and it was all brown
around the outside. They didn't do any location shooting – it was in the
studio, they took the camera. We could have gone out on the cliffs and done a
lot more to make it a bit brighter – not two children stuck in this dark hole,”*
he said, many years later. The endorsement on the reverse of the sleeve from “international
star” Dick Emery amounts to little more than an admission that he once met the
siblings, although apparently he was impressed enough to invite them on stage with him for the last night of his residency at the “Talk Of the West”, the
rather grand-sounding club within the Perran View Holiday Park.
And why the nonsensical title for the album? Surely Eleven
Times Two would have made more sense: the twins were both eleven at the time of
recording, after all. Unless, of course, it’s a pun on the Eleven Plus exam
that kids moving from juniors into secondary school sat in those days.
Apparently, the title came about because, according to Kay, “We started
recording the album when we were 11, but thanks to a strike somewhere in the
chain it took two years for the record to come out. When we asked what we
should call the record, Job Morris [co-owner of Sentinel Records] said: ‘Well,
11 plus 2’. It was a reference to the exam, and the fact we were now 13.”* It's
a shame because these kids were clearly talented.
There would be no further records from the Twintones,
although Kay did release a solo cassette, Kay Plays Technics which Gary
recorded at home and which was issued, again by Sentinel, to sell at gigs.
The Twintones career petered out as the twins grew up, and the
demand for live acts of their type diminished, although in 2013 the pair
reformed for a charity show in support of Cornish cancer support charity Tanya’s
Courage Trust.
Anyway, here are a couple of stand out tracks from Eleven
Plus Two: These Boots Were Made for Walking and Banana Rock.
Enjoy!
*The quotes in this from Kay and Gary come from an interview
conducted by journalist and stand-up comedian Dave Waller, and first appeared on
the Sentinel Records blog in 2014