Keep in mind these are albums I purchased in the year 2020. Some of the music is old, but it's new to me. And in no special order - My favorite albums of 2020 are:
The Bachelor Pad -"All Hash and Cock"
Ennio Morricone - "Peur Sur La Ville"
Jack Nitzsche -"Jack Nitzsche"
The Quick - "Untold Rock Stories"
Jarvis Is... - "Beyond the Pale"
Dan Penn - "The Fame Recordings"
Sparks - "A Steady Drip, Drip, Drip
Egisto Macchi - "Sud e Magia"
V.A.- "Hallucinations: Psychedelic Pop Nuggets from the WEA Vaults"
A Raincoat - "Digalongamacs"
The Preachers -"Moanin'"
Various – "More Lost Legends Of Surf Guitar"
Charlie Parker – "The Savoy 10-Inch LP Collection"
David Bowie - "Is It Any Wonder?"
Extended Organ – "Vibe"
King Crimson – "THRAK"
Vince Taylor & His Playboys* – "Vince Taylor Rocks!"
Marc Bölan* – "Electronic Musik"
Kenny Graham And His Satellites – "Moondog And Suncat Suites
I will be leaving my home, or I should say running off from my current location. I’m the type of guy who throws his hat on the bed, and that becomes my pad. But now, at my advancing age, this will most likely be my last trip… of any kind. Nevertheless, I have to keep a brave face on and not let the others down. I have always looked for a paradise, and most would like to say an island such as Hawaii or Tahiti fits that bill, but for me, it will always be Asakusa. Not an island, by itself mind you, but part of the more significant island that is Japan. Or perhaps the island that is my mind.
The airline I’m taking is Japan Airlines, where once you enter, you must take your shoes off. The entire plane has a series of tatami mats, and of course, you can only wear socks on the material that is rice straw. Once you get your seat, the stewardess offers you a hot towel to wipe your hands and neck. Once you finish refreshing oneself, you then get a foot massage from them as well. It lasts maybe only three minutes, but it’s a gentle introduction to the mysterious Orient. And one hasn’t even taken off to the heavenly blue skies.
I have high friends in high places. One is being a gentleman by the name of Shintaro Ishihara. A writer who specializes in the subject matter of the Japanese sun tribe of the late 1950s. Not the first rebellious youth movement, but surely the most nihilistic group of young Japanese boys and girls who love and live for the beach culture. He eventually made a sharp right-hand turn and became the mayor of Tokyo. Due to his reputation and fame, we in the past have met in secretly at a bar in Shinjuku. The bar is located on the top floor of a sushi boat place that is on the floor level. It’s an odd bar that only plays the music of Marc Bolan’s first band Tyrannosaurus Rex. What makes this place even more curious, is that they mostly have photographs of Steve Took (the bongo player) than Bolan on its walls. That is here and there, and I’m sitting on the plane reading Truman Capote’s horrible novel “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and having a glass of cold sake.
Many hours later, the plane of no hope arrives at Narita, where I decided to take an airport bus to a hotel in Meguro, Tokyo. One hour and a half I’m in the middle of a hotel lobby looking forward to getting a room. I think my adventure will start now, but who knows, I can’t predict what will happen. I’m just a writer, you know. -Tosh Berman
I will be leaving my home, or I should say running off from my current location. I’m the type of guy who throws his hat on the bed, and that becomes my pad. But now, at my advancing age, this will most likely be my last trip… of any kind. Nevertheless, I just have to keep a brave face on and not let the others down. I have always looked for a paradise, and most would like to say an island such as Hawaii or Tahiti fits that bill, but for me it will always be Asakusa. Not an island, by itself mind you, but part of the bigger island that is Japan. Or perhaps the island that is actually my mind.
The airline I’m taking is Japan Airlines, where once you enter, you must take your shoes off. The entire plane has a series of tatami mats, and of course you can only wear socks on the material that is basically rice straw. Once you get your seat, the stewardess offers you a hot towel to wipe your hands and neck. Once you finish refreshing oneself, you then get a foot massage from them as well. It lasts maybe only three minutes, but it's a nice introduction to the mysterious Orient. And one hasn’t even taken off to the heavenly blue skies.
I have high friends in high places. One is being a gentleman by the name of Shintaro Ishihara. A writer who specializes on the subject matter of the Japanese sun tribe of the late 1950s. Not the first rebellious youth movement, but surely the most nihilistic group of young Japanese boys and girls who love and live for the beach culture. He eventually made a sharp right hand turn and became the mayor of Tokyo. Due to his reputation and fame, we in the past have met in secretly at a bar in Shinjuku, which is located on the top floor of a sushi boat place that is on the floor level. It’s an odd bar that only plays the music of Marc Bolan’s first band Tyrannosaurus Rex. What makes this place even odder, is that they mostly have photographs of Steve Took (the bongo player) than Bolan on its walls That is here and there, I’m sitting on the plane reading Truman Capote’s horrible novel “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and having a glass of cold sake.
Many hours later, the plane of no hope arrives at Narita, where I decided to take an airport bus to a hotel in Meguro, Tokyo. One hour and a half I’m in the middle of a hotel lobby looking forward to getting a room. I think my adventure will start now, but who knows, I can’t predict what will happen. I’m just a writer you know.
Marc Bolan and T.Rex were very much part of my teen years. Marc Bolan represented a foreign force (from the U.K.) that made one realize that there was something "out" out there. I dug the catchy aspect of his idiotic lyrics, but when sung by him, was pure poetry on (almost) highest level. But then David Bowie came on the scene and totally tore the T.Rex need out of my life. But many years later I have come back to the sound of T.Rex and realize what a remarkable and eccentric talent he was. Mark Paytress wrote a really good biography on the man, the music world at the time, and why Marc Bolan and T.Rex are important. In the U.K. he ruled the country, but only for two years or so. After that he was struggling to get his crown back. But David Bowie pretty much took the crown and not only that, he was not going to give up the jewel hat. Bowie was at the time (and still is) very much a genius and an exceptional songwriter on top of that. Bolan, had his brilliance and his moment, but couldn't really repeat that moment. But the beauty of Bolan's work is not the grand gesture, but the small paint strokes that he made with respect to his music and records. Especially the Tony Visconti produced recordings. Which are brilliant. Both Visconti and Bolan added textures to rather minimal rocking tracks. But there is also the melodies - and Bolan I think is really strong in that department. And a classic T.Rex track had that Sun records sound, but it sounds like it was recorded on the planet Saturn. The Bolan story is a sad one. The typical rock n' roll drugs, drink, and dry up of talent. And of course the tragic car accident. But the classic T.Rex (Marc Bolan) record is one to marvel at, because it is a moment or a series of moments that are perfect.
Happy Birthday Elliott Gould
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Happy Birthday to one of the all-time greats and one of the coolest of the
cool Elliott Gould. From my 2019 New Beverly interview with Elliott Gould
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