Song of the Week, Year 1 Playlist

Listen to all of the Songs of the Week (well, most of them anyway) and watch them being played on original vinyl. Every week, I record a video of the song being played on original vinyl, and capture the audio through some nice equipment so it sounds as it should.

Here are the songs from May 2017 to May 2018.  Enjoy.



Watch on YouTube.

This Month on AiV: "Hot Tracks" from 1983

This month, we are featuring the K-Tel album Hot Tracks, released in 1983.

This album features some great 80s tunes. Check out the commercial below:


Listen to Adventures in Vinyl every Saturday at 12:30pm, Sunday at 4:00pm and Wednesday at 2am. All times Central.

The Original Fidget Spinner!

Fidget Spinners are all the rage at the moment.

What little do people know is that we had our own version of the Fidget Spinner in the 60s, 70s and 80s.

And our fidget spinner came with music.

Get this new design on a t-shirt. Two styles, many options. The basic T-Shirt is only $15.49!

Check out our other designs as well. Father's Day is coming up!

New Additions to the Vinyl Voyage Library

As usual, put some new albums into the rotation recently.  Some classics here.

K-Tel's Finest: Rock 80 This Week

My favorite K-Tel album by far is Rock 80. This is Retro Repeat month on Adventures in Vinyl and this week we will be rebroadcasting the Rock 80 episode. The episode airs Saturday, May 19 at 11 am (ct), Sunday May 20 at 4 pm (ct) and then at 1 pm May 22, 2 am May 23 and 10 am May 24. Here is the original post describing the album:

Prior to 1980, my musical tastes generally sucked.  Oh, I listened to the standard hits on the radio, but had no coherent musical wants or likes---outside, that is, of what was always played in my house:  John Denver, Neil Diamond, Olivia Newton-John and Barry Manilow.  Yes, I admit it, I could sing along to several Manilow tunes.  Remember, I didn't have any older brothers or sisters to show me the way (Think: Almost Famous). But then, in 1980, everything changed.  I discovered good music.

And I can thank K-Tel for that.

For Christmas in 1980, I received a cassette from my parents.  It was K-Tel's Rock 80.  And this album introduced me for the first time to what would become some of my favorite bands:  Cheap Trick, the Ramones, the Pretenders.  I started listening more to rock radio.  I would sit sometimes for hours, waiting patiently for a single song to add to my collection of mix tapes. 

This is a classic K-Tel album.  It only had fourteen songs, unlike the other K-Tel albums in my collection.  Most of the K-Tel albums had over 20 songs, the result of sometimes very bad edits and song crunching.  Not this one; this one has the full radio versions of the songs.

This album features the Pretenders, Cheap Trick, the Ramones, Joe Jackson, Blondie, Nick Lowe, the Knack and many more.  Here's the commercial:




Unfortunately, this cassette no longer works.  Thank God for Ebay.  A couple of years ago, I was able to purchase a nice copy on vinyl.  And that Rock 80 album is the featured selection on this month's edition of Adventures in Vinyl.  We will play the album in its entirety.  Plus, music and movie trivia from 1980 as well.

Adventures in Vinyl is the only radio show dedicated to the lost art of the K-Tel record compilation.  It can be heard on the Vinyl Voyage radio channel Saturdays at 11 am (CT) and Sundays at 4 pm (CT).  So join us for this nostalgic rip back to 1980.   Remember, if you can't hear it at those times, no worries:  just let us know when you would like to hear it and we'll play it for you at that time.  How's that for a personal playlist?

Thanks, Dave Aklinski

It was the last day of school.  I was planning on heading down to the Chicago Blues Fest with some co-workers, but I had to clean my desk and haul some books down to the "rebind" room.  That took longer than I had anticipated.  Plus, the weather didn't look so great.  So, I decided to skip that trip and just head home.

On the way, I stopped off at my local record store, Rainbow Records in Barrington, to treat myself to a little vinyl.  There are always albums that I want, but inevitably, when I get to the record store, I never seem to be able to remember any of them.  Been looking for some Cure, but vinyl Cure is a little difficult to find.  Saw Sting's debut album, but I have that on cd and decided against it

Browsing through the Rs, I came across Tattoo You, the 1981 release from the Rolling Stones.  Back when the album was released, I checked it out at the library and made a copy on cassette.  That cassette has long since vanished. 

So there it was:  my vinyl choice of the day:  The Rolling Stones.

There were two copies of Tattoo You.  After inspecting the vinyl, I chose the better.  After all, this album is 30 years old.  This copy was almost pristine: no noticeable scratches or smudges.  The only thing is that the previous owner's name was written not only on the cover, but also on the sleeve and on the record label itself:

Dave Aklinski

He was the owner of the record.  A proud owner, I must say.  Why else would he have written his name over all parts of the album?

Over the course of the last several months as I have rediscovered my love for vinyl, that is one thing that I have noticed about many of the used albums I have come across:  people liked to put their names on them.  To mark their territory, so to speak.  As if to say, "Hey, this is mine."  Of course, people shared albums all of the time and placing one's name on the album assured that the album would be returned  There are still some albums that I know I had in my collection that are now noticeably absent.  I never placed my name on any of my albums.  And look where that's gotten me, wondering whatever happened to Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel, among others.

Writing names on albums was more than just marking territory though.  It was more than just saying, "This album belongs to me." It was as if that name becomes a declaration of  faith in the artist and what that artist represents.  We all develop very personal relationships with music and it is music that marks very specific moments in our lives.  Years later a song can trigger a memory.  A feeling.  A moment that may have been lost and suddenly returned as if it were yesterday by a few chords from a guitar riff.  That is power and we come to feel that we own the music itself on that record.  Once it is made by the artists it becomes ours.  We're attached to it as if it were made just for us.  Which is why we sometimes feel slighted when we feel that an artist has "sold out."  When I first heard Robert Plant's voice selling Cadillac I almost fell off my seat.  Are you kidding me?  Led Zeppelin and Cadillac? 

That's not all music, of course.  I can't imagine a time down the road when I worry that Lady Gaga has sold out.  Or having some Britney Spears' song sparking a memory. 

Music is such a personal thing.  Dave Aklinski was not just declaring that Tattoo You was his.  It was a little more than that.  I assume that there must have been several Stones albums in his collection.  He was a Stones fan and that mark on the cover was a declaration of "fandome," if that is even a word.  If not, it should be.    Someone who puts their name on an album no doubt has had some very vigorous discussions about that band--perhaps defending them against some naysayers or discussing the virtues of one album over another.  That's what it means to be a fan.

So I paid $3.21 for Dave Arlinksi's Tattoo You album.  You can't get a better deal than that.  I played it for my two boys when I got home and we danced in the basement to "Start Me Up."  And I was reminded of the time back in 1981 when I watched a Stones concert on pay-per-view with some friends.  I can still see Mick Jagger running around the stage in tight yellow pants and an orange tank top.  Yep, that's the power of music.

Thanks, Dave Aklinski, for taking such good care of that album. 

And if anyone knows a Dave Aklinski in the Chicago area who at one time owned this Tattoo You album, tell him that I now have it.

And I am taking good care of it.

-------------------------

You can hear selections from Tattoo You and other Rolling Stones' albums on The Vinyl Voyage, where all music is played on vinyl---just as music should be.

On the Turntable Today

Records.  Lots and lots of records.

We are going to try it again, folks.  Got everything working (hopefully).  Listen live to The Vinyl Voyage all day without commercial interruptions.  We have the most eclectic mix out there and are adding more each day.

Then, stay tuned at 9 pm (CT) for Mix Tape Memories.  Tonight, we will be playing a mix from 1985 with some of the best new wave/alternative of the early 80s.  Time Zone.  The Fixx.  Real Life.  Boomtown Rats.

And, of course, Alien Sex Fiend.

Join us at 9.

"He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother": The Story of a Song

We all have those songs which touch us in certain ways. Music has that ability---to stir emotions, to wrangle memories. We have the tendency to claim songs as our own for what they do within us. For me, no song is more poignant and powerful than “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.”

The song was written by Bobby Scott and Bob Russell, their only collaboration as songwriters. Russell was dying of cancer at the time and his lyrics for this song would be the last he ever wrote. The origin of the phrase is unknown, but it did appear as the title of an article in Kiwanis magazine in 1924 and then later became the motto for Father Flanagan’s Boy’s Town in the 1940s.

Written in the late 60s, the song conjures images of the Civil Rights Movement and Vietnam. In fact, every year when I teach Vietnam, I use music to tell the story and “He Ain’t Heavy He’s My Brother” highlights 1970, the year of it’s release. However, for me, the song has nothing to do with Vietnam.

For me, the song is about my brother.

My brother, Christopher, had recently turned three when he was tragically stuck and killed by a car in 1974. I was just a month away from turning six and, although it had happened almost 40 years ago, the details of that day are seared into my memory as if it had occurred not years, but moments ago. If I close my eyes I can still see that sunny Sunday afternoon. My brother was riding his big wheel; I could see him from the top of an A-frame tree house recently constructed in a friend’s back yard. In my excitement over the tree house, I called out to him.  A train had recently rumbled along the tracks behind the house. Other children were playing, their laughs could be heard echoing throughout the neighborhood.

And then…..then our lives changed forever.

It’s not something I often talk about. In fact, I didn’t talk about it much growing up. I kept to myself.

It was in music where I found refuge.

I first heard “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” sometime in 1975 or so. My parents had recently bought Olivia Newton-John’s release, Clearly Love. I can still picture the album cover: Olivia standing in a denim jacket, a slight smile on her face as wind blows through her feathered hair. Olivia Newton-John may have been my first crush. The song is the final song on the album and it would be the first song in my life to become emotionally significant.

I may not have understood the true meaning of the song at the time, but the refrain struck a chord. I thought the song was about losing a brother and being sad about it. Olivia sang it so mournfully. And so beautifully. It must have been about me.

If I’m laden at all

I’m laden with sadness.

I listened to the song whenever I could. When it came on the reel to reel my parents had, I stopped and listened. When I got older, I played it myself—sometimes over and over.

Most people are familiar with the more famous Hollies version. I, however, wouldn’t be aware of that version for many years. But when I bought The Hollies’ Greatest Hits on cassette in the early 80s, it would be that version that would carry me through the next decade or so. As a teacher, I would play the Hollies’ version to my classes. My students may have been thinking about Vietnam, but not me. I sat in the back of the classroom, thinking about my brother. Sometimes doing all I could to hold back the tears, staring at the image I had placed on the overhead of a soldier carrying a wounded comrade through the jungle.

I recently became familiar with the very first recording of the song. Neil Diamond actually recorded the song before the Hollies, but would release it later.   It appears on his 1970 release Tap Root Manuscript, which I just recently picked up in a used record store.  Although it is the oldest, my relationship with Neil Diamond’s version is still in its infancy. But I like it. In many ways, it is better than the Hollies version. It is better than Olivia’s. Neil Diamond may not be the best singer, but his voice exudes emotion. As a man in my early 40s, it is this version that I turn to more often. It speaks to me in a way the others don't.

My brother would have turned 40 this year.  As I get older, his presence in my life grows more significant.  I look upon my two boys and sometimes see subtle reflections of Chris.  When you think about it, people never really die---they live on in our lives in numerous ways, shades of them appearing unexpectedly in others.  And songs like "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" help us cope and, in turn, keep the memory alive.   In the end, it doesn't matter the original intent of the song.  True art transcends purpose and becomes something more---much, much more.  Art has the ability to help us deal with life's curve balls.  It can calm us and excite us.  But, most of all, art makes us pause every now and then, especially when we are consumed with the minutiae of everyday living, to remind us about what is truly important.

In honor of what would have been my brother's 40th birthday, I created a video dedicated to his memory. Of course, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" is the soundtrack. It couldn't have been anything else.

Thank You Benny Mardones

This is Benny Mardones

I know nothing about Benny Mardones. Nothing. I don't know any albums. I don't know if he still makes music. I don't know if he ever was a member of a band. Until recently, I had no idea what he looks like. And I don't know any of his songs. Except, that is, for one.

That song is "Into the Night." It originally came out in 1980 but was rereleased in 1989. Both times it made the charts; one of the few times a single song had made the charts for the same recording. It happened with the Righteous Brothers and their song "Unchained Melody" and also Chubby Checkers made the charts twice with "The Twist." So this is quite a feat for Mr. Mardones.

I first heard "Into the Night" sometime in the early 80s. And the thing that I remember about hearing the song for the first time was that I thought it was Steve Perry. At that time, I was a huge Journey fan (and, frankly, still like the band an awful lot. Old Journey. Not the new Journey) and believed "Into the Night" was either a new Journey song I hadn't heard or solo Steve Perry. I quickly discovered that it was not a new new Steve Perry song; I would have to wait a couple of years for "Oh Sherrie." And it wasn't Journey.

It was some dude named Benny.

Nonetheless, I bought the 45. Played it for awhile and put it away. Occasionally, I hear the song on the radio and still think to myself, "Man, that guy sounds like Steve Perry." And then I feel sorry for Benny Mardones. I think I should probably know more about him.

I still have that 45. I dusted it off recently and placed it on the turntable after spending a ridiculously long time looking for one of those annoying 45 adapters. Through the crackle and the pops of the old 45, "Into the Night" reignited memories that only vinyl can. Sure, music has a tremendous ability to spark memories---but music played on its original source with the tactile experience of pulling the record from the sleeve and gently placing it on the turntable, perhaps wiping away the dust. Lifting the tone arm and setting it gently on the shiny rim of the jet black vinyl. Hearing the initial crackle and pop as the needle sets itself into the groove. That's a complete sensory experience that goes beyond the song. And it is a powerful memory reclaimer.

So there I was, a man in my 40s, sitting in my basement and feeling again like a 14 year old kid.  And that was cool.

Thank you Benny Mardones. Whoever you are.



This video features Benny Mardones and the song "Into the Night." Check out that tie. I had that tie in high school.

"Into the Night" is now streaming on The Vinyl Voyage from the original 45.

Vinyl Oddity: Leonard Nimoy Presents Mr. Spock's Music From Outer Space

Each month on the Vinyl Voyage, we highlight a rare and often strange oddity from the world of vinyl. This month, it is Leonard Nimoy's debut album (yes, he had more) from 1967, Mr. Spock's Music from Outer Space.  Riding on the popularity of Star Trek at the time, the album features instrumentals, poetry and songs---all with a space theme.

There was even a single from the album released.  It contained the strange reading, "A Visit to a Sad Planet" with the "Theme from Star Trek" on the B side.

Excerpt:  "A Visit to a Sad Planet"
Excerpt:  "Theme from Star Trek"

There are some very sixties-type instrumentals, such as "Music to Watch Space Girls By" and a spaced-out version of "Mission Impossible."  Also, Leonard Nimoy takes his turn  singing with "Where is Love?" from the musical Oliver and a sad tune entitled "Lost in the Stars"

Leonard Nimoy had five releases from Dot records, the last of which was released in 1970 and includes a version of "Abraham, Martin and John."

Excerpt:  "Abraham, Martin and John"

Leonard Nimoy Presents Mr. Spock's Music From Outer Space is the Vinyl Oddity for the month.  You can hear several tracks streaming on the station.  Plus, the album will be spotlighted during this month's episode of Adventures in Vinyl.

Listen to Adventures in Vinyl  on Saturday, 11 am (central) and Sunday, 4 pm (central).  Check out the schedule for other times.

Welcome to THE VINYL VOYAGE

Welcome to The Vinyl Voyage.  Tune-in to hear an eclectic mix of songs from the 1960s-80s--all played on the original, glorious vinyl.  If you like to listen to music on vinyl, this is the place for you.

In addition, we will be launching a monthly program called "Adventures in Vinyl," hosted by Bruce Janu.  In each episode, we will be highlighting a particular K-Tel album from the last several decades, in its entirety--skips, pops and all.  Episode 1 will feature K-Tel's 1974 compilation, "Music Power."

While you're here, don't forget to check out our store.