|
October, 1970 Quick Whistles for Bad Discs |
|
(We believe we are missing the first page of the article.) The photo shows Program Director Mel Phillips (seated) and Music Director/Assistant Program Director Paul Power.
|
|
Quick
Whistles for Bad Discs When Mel passes on the Supreme's new record, you can't help getting the feeling it will be turning up among the Big 30 hits on WRKO one of these days.
Wednesday
is "Music Day" at the station, a day when Mel and his
24-year-old Music Director, Paul Power, get together in Mel's office to
audition the worthiest of this week's new records. About the only
sounds heard from within, besides the popular ones of the day, are the
breaking of some old musical reputations. Tina Turner ("Working Together) was kissed off in spite of the fact that Ike's name is spelled backwards on the label (Eki Benrut) to attract attention. The Melanie record also fared poorly, especially since it was the flip side of a record that had been previously rejected. "This side won't make it either," said Mel, lifting the needle. Before long, they were into what Mel referred to as "the really marginal stuff." Records were put on and taken off at such rapid speed there was barely time to identify the artists — Quicksilver Messenger Service, The Fifth Dimension, Dorothy Morrison, Mark Lindsay, Savage, Grace, Iron Butterfly, Chakra, and Crystal Mansion, to name a few. The off-hand commentary became more interesting than the music itself. What follows is the name of the artist accompanied by Mel's aside: The Beach Boys — "I don't want to hear anything by them at all." Kent Morrill — "I don't know who the hell he is. It's a terrible record. Etta James — "She'll go on singing forever. She must be 50 years old." Tyrone Davis — (A yawn.) Proud as Punch — "One bar, that's all they get." |
The denouement was achieved with the playing of a novelty record, "Hello," by someone named Peter Moessers. It consisted mostly of a man saying "hello!" in a cheerful voice with a bouncy accordion background. "You could whistle it on your way to work," said Paul dryly. There are more on the spindle, and consigning it to at least a temporary oblivion. Elvis Presley managed to get through a few bars of "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me" before he was discarded with the terse comment: "The only place playing it is Memphis." The new Gary Puckett ("I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself") elicited the derisive observation from Mel that "It's number 117 in Billboard." Paul said he had heard somewhere that Puckett is in the hospital with appendicitis. It was agreed that the critical reception to his latest record will not hasten Puckett's recovery. An instrumental, "Stoned Cowboy" by a group called Fantasy, barely got off the ground. "Its sounded good last week when I first heard it, but it sounds rotten today," Mel said. Wilson Picket ("Engine Number 9") was shot down in flames — "Too funky, too soulful; there's no way we need a record like that," Mel said, whipping it (the record) off the spindle and consigning it to at least temporary oblivion. — and the new Ike and Tina Turner (lines missing from article) appeared in publications like "Billboard," "Cashbox," and something called the "Bob Hamilton Radio Report."
An
outsider trying to pin down exactly when, where, and how a record gets
its first play might be compared to tracing the origin of an echo in the
Alps. It almost seems as if program directors and disk jockeys are
listening to each other all over the country, each waiting for the other
to make the first move. The worst bet was an instrumental version of "El Condor Pasa," the Simon & Garfunkel hit by a group known as the Garden Variety.
"What's
the Garden Variety" said Mel.
|