Dancefloor friendly mixture of funky wah-wahs and hard hitting drums.
“Wanted” by The Dooleys gets transformed into a heroic theme for a viking warrior.
You always were a cunning linguist so brush up on your Bollywood and get ready to meet Gun Master G 9. He’s the deadliest and the hottest and on the sleeve that’s a tsunami, NOT a massive enema.
One of those all too common disco tracks everyone has and that’s why I’ve never dared to play it in public. Kinda sad thinking how good it sounds hearing it over and over again while watching rain dancing on my windowsill. Might sound the part at the parties on 120 db at 6.17 a.m. In the picture something horribly chaotic, but disturbingly peaceful at the same time. Library books floating on the streets of Paris after the catastrophic floods in 1910.
Yes, it’s an instrumental version of La Lear’s immortal hit. Here’s the lyrics. Now release your inner Diva:
It was down in Chinatown that I met the opium Queen
babyface girl from Shanghai never smile and never cry.
She now rules the underworld down in Chinatown
she runs all the opium dens down in Chinatown.
Bring her your gold bring her your worries
and when life gets a bit too dreary to stand
give a ring to the Queen of Chinatown.
Go down go down
to the Queen of Chinatown
she’ll pick you up when you’re feeling down.
Go down go down
to the Queen of Chinatown
and she’ll soon blow your blues away!
Japanese girl group was typically all about かわいい (Kawaii = exaggarated cuteness celebrating furry little animals, manga characters with big eyes and pink everything) until 1986 when they got surprisingly tough.
This classic psych tune started to play in my head when wandering at the endless beaches of Kolka, Latvija. Black Sand from the same album is more dancefloor oriented with beautifully bounding drum and wah-wahs.
You probably won’t understand a word of what this guy’s shouting other than ‘zero’. Well, that’s all he ever wasn’t. One of the most celebrated Portuguese pop artists, Paião put aside a career as a doctor of Medicine to fully devote himself to music, his true passion; and, oh boy, was he an outstanding songwriter. Wish you could understand how he magically always got the words together.
Died in a car crash aged 30, on his way to a show.
I’ll be spinning vinyls at the 4th of June at my favourite spot in the universe – the Uus Õu garden in Tartu, Estonia and later in the night at the vibrant Genialistide Klubi. Even if everything is most likely going to be totally awesome all the time with happy people everywhere, maybe it’s still ok to play some melancholic records? In the picture California fashions of 1967.
1976 is the year i was born. During that summer Italy was already invaded by a countless number of disco tunes. Some went mainstream, others are now forgotten, and are being slowly rediscovered. It was also a period when the boom of local or clandestine radio stations was at its glorious beginning. We have to thanks these small, often improvised activities, if some local or less famous disco records arrived to our days, resurfacing as cult items. In fact it was more usual that this kind of tunes were played where there was not a sort of market to follow, but only the taste of a DJ, or radio host. This was probably the case of a record i discovered one month ago. I was in my hometown, Carrara, and there was a small flea-market. Not a lot of interesting things in it, but i noticed a small desk crammed with posters and old records. Many were 7″, and some quite obscure. Not a lot of disco, but i found 9 records which satisfied my research. Asking to the seller where he had found all these rare stuff, he said me he acquired the entire stock of an old local radio station. Among the records i found there was one which by now is not yet on Discogs website. It is a 7″, with track Amor Amor Amor by Andy Morgan on A-side, a very cheesy cover of Rod McKuen classic, and one called Pagurus, by Hermit Bernard Band, on B-side. Label is Rifi, and year of release is 1976. Ah, cult composer Enrico Intra is behind this last track. This is the one i will let you listen now. So, just go back to Carrara in 1976, and discover what a local radio host could’ve made my fellow citizens listening in the summer of 1976 (in the picture, a late 60s postcard of Carrara beachfront, with a dancing on the left).