The Kinks - "The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society" Vinyl, LP, Album, Reissue, Mono, 2014/1968 (Sanctuary Records)

It took me a while, but I finally purchased a new or mint copy of the Mono edition of The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society." The sound of the record is brilliant, but what's more important is the music itself.  Clearly a masterpiece, and I think it is at that status due to its powerful images of a world that is a combination of William Makepeace Thackeray, Henry James, and a touch of Oscar Wilde. In other words, it's British, but not the lad England of Oasis but the world of English gentlemen, quiet pubs, and great inner depression.  Perhaps there is a touch of the Angry Young Men movement as well.  It's a shame that this album was never turned into a musical in London's West End.  There is no narrative, but one can quickly write the 'book' and make this an instant classic, just due to the excellence of the songs.  

I originally bought this album in the time of its original release in 1968.  I have been a somewhat consistent Kinks fan, but life in Los Angeles didn't always allow an easy route to purchase a Kinks album, even though they were on Reprise Records in America.   For one, they dropped out of the press or TV appearances, and for about six months, I totally forgot that they even existed.  I came upon this album when I lived in Topanga Canyon, and I felt like a prisoner in that area of the world.  "Village Green" unknown to me at the point of purchase, exposed me to another prison, but one in Merryland England.   My sense of alienation perfectly fitted the mood of this Kinks' album.  When I got home with the record and put it on my turntable, I think I felt tears from my eyes.  I never had a record that encouraged such an emotional response before.  It wasn't sadness exactly, but more of the fact that I too felt I lived in a village, and there is something rotten in that neighborhood.  

Also, this is very much music made by and for Dandies.  I like the cover, but I feel that it should have been a painting portrait of The Kinks, perhaps in oil, or even an image of Francis Bacon at the very least.  Still, over the years I have purchased this album in every format possible, and it was until very recently I bought the Mono mix of "Village Green."   For my ears, it sounds more punchy and forceful, and therefore I prefer the Mono to the stereo mix.  Not one wrong musical moment on this record, it's perfection as an art form, with the band performing this delicate music as an oil painting or perhaps building the village as a sculpture.  One of the remarkable albums from the 20th-century.

Canned Heat - "On The Road Again" b/w "Time Was" 7" 45 rpm Single, 1968 (United Artists Records)

I spent my late childhood and teenage years in Topanga Canyon, and one of the bands that were attracted to that area of the world was Canned Heat.  On one level, a blues band that had a student like obsession with the blues and its culture.  Then again, a song like "On The Road Again," mainly written by founding member Alan (Al) Wilson, who wasn't usually their lead singer, and based on a blues song by Floyd Jones.  It's a stunning and extraordinary record.

For one, it's a very intimate and almost a quiet recording.  Wilson's vocals are closed mike and its eerie in its sound of loneliness and despair.  A happy-go-lucky its ain't.  The other unique aspect of the song is that there is something like a drone string instrument that runs through the entire song.  Researching the record, I found its a tambura, which is an instrument from Central Asia.  It seems that the original version by Floyd Jones also had a drone sounding instrument on his release as well.

Minimal arrangement plus the drone is an interesting relationship within the song, and also its depressive tone makes "On The Road Again" a very unique record of its time and place.  Alan Wilson died a few years later in Topanga Canyon, where they found his body in a sleeping bag by a tree outside his home.

Wallace Berman - "(In Conversation)" Vinyl, LP, Album, Spoken Word, Limited Edition, Mono, 2015 (Edition Muta)

Without a doubt, the most personal recording in my record collection.  It's a conversation between my father the artist Wallace Berman with Hal Glicksman, a curator, and Jack & Ruth Hirschman, with my mom Shirley Berman as well.  On top of that, it was a secretly taped conversation.  My father didn't have the slightest idea that Hal was taping their chat, until halfway through this recording.  My father was famous for not giving interviews, and pretty much avoided talking about his artwork. He very much believed that the art itself should communicate with the viewer.  And he had an intense mistrust with popular media, which is ironic because Wallace used images from mass-produced magazines.  Or perhaps that alone is a comment on the nature of images and art.  Nevertheless, this is very much a typical night at the Berman household.   What I found shocking is the mention of Boris Vian by Jack, which many years in the future I became devoted to this author, and ended up publishing all his significant novels with my press TamTam Books.   The past becomes very much part of my present and going back listening to this recording, makes me realize that things are set in motion. It's a strange disconnect between my life now and then.   A fascinating document and I do recommend this to anyone who has an interest in my father's work, as well as American counter-culture life during 1968.  The album is a limited edition of 400.  I also wrote the liner notes for this release.