Kaz-katz
Ten dollars to the first reader who spots the St. Louis Invisible Marching Band.
Last night, I had the pleasure of filling in for Josh Weinstein on All Soul, No Borders. I'm certainly not as adroit as Josh when it comes to spinning jazz, but I did get one nice call from "St. Louis Steve," who thanked me for playing Sun Ra (my pleasure ... as someone who does a literature show, once a month, just playing music was like eating ice-cream cake).
In preparation for the show, I took a trip down to Record Exchange on Hampton. Though it aggravates my allergies, there's few things I enjoy more than thumbing through old vinyl. Not only is the cover art big enough to actually see, but a used record store offers far more in the way of delight and serendipity than the CD section at your local big box electronics store. Like, for instance, the Gary Bartz Ntu Troop's Harlem Bush Music. I grabbed that one because it looked good. That's not always the best approach; just like with wine, an impressive-looking package doesn't mean there's something palatable inside. But, I once I got home and Googled it, I was pleased to discover that actual jazz critics had very nice things to say about the record, and when I spun it, I wasn't disappointed (other than the fact that the schmutz on the vinyl made it sound a little shaggy).
The other really nice discovery I made was a Miles Davis' Sorcerer. I have an extra soft spot for Miles Davis because he was born in East St. Louis, though of course, what's not to like? The guy was also a genuis. This album, recorded in the late '60s, is a bit of a lost link; it's post-Coltrane, pre-funk and fusion, with a young Herbie Hancock in the lineup. As reviewer Nick Derisio notes, "Sorcerer ... still deftly combines touches of a familiar acoustic sound that Davis had established over the late 1950s and early '60s as the paradigm, even while adding the free-range inventiveness that characterized Miles' explorations to come." In other words, utterly transitional music. It felt exactly right to play it at the end of such a wacky, tumultuous year. (And lord help us, but it looks like we're in for the historical version of Miles Davis playing trumpet through a wah-wah pedal)
The other album I grabbed for the cover may turn out to be the aural version of Riverboat Red: The Kasenetz-Katz Singing Orchestral Circus' self-titled 1968 debut on Buddah Records. The Wikipedia entry describes the band as a "bubblegum supergroup" (oi!) made up of the 1910 Fruitgum Company, Ohio Express, Music Explosion, Lt. Garcia's Magic Music Box, the Teri Nelson Group, the 1989 Musical Marching Zoo, J.C.W. Rat Finks and the St. Louis Invisible Marching Band, whose liner-note photo was nothing but a blank white square. Wikipedia claims that the STL Invisible Marching Band was "nonexisitent," which I find bitterly disappointing, because it was pretty much why I bought the record. On the other hand, the K.K.S.O.C was a favorite among music heads in the '80s, as well as those who enjoy their bubblegum with a side of irony, so there must be something redeeming there...until I corner a friend with a turntable, though, the truth of that statement will remain a mystery. —Stefene Russell
