Hole in Termite Terrace
Tin Pan Alley Cats is a jazzy 1943 Merrie Melodie directed with Bob Clampett’s usual outlandishness — and one of the Warner Bros. “Censored Eleven.” From the parade of jivey cats on display I can see why, but that’s still no excuse to just pretend the thing never existed. Watching the Looney Tunes Golden Collection Vol. 6 ignites my curiosity for these “lost” cartoons. Thanks goodness for YouTube.
Book Review: Seymour
Surely you must know the name of Seymour Chwast, right? As the co-founder of legendary graphic design studio Push Pin, he was a prime mover in deflating the pomposity of modernism and ushering in the freer, more whimsical visual styles that defined the ’60s and ’70s. On a personal note, he was also one of the first artists whose work I noticed in books such as American Illustration 1982-83. One look at Chwast’s charming yet sophisticated imagery made me say “I want to do that” (side note: I’m still attempting to do that). Several decades of Chwast’s art, both commercial and personal, have been assembled in a handsome new book titled Seymour: The Obsessive Images Of Seymour Chwast.
This is one cool book. Most of its 262 pages are just what the title says: images, one to a page or spread, with annotations confined to the back few pages. Everything is grouped thematically in topics such as war, food, fashion and sex. There’s also the occasional oddball subject, such as a series of Mexican Wrestler pieces Chwast did in 2002. Although the art dates from as early as the 1960s and encompasses a wide variety of media (dig the cut sheet metal plates of food), certain things have remained constant in his work. A sense of whimsy is first and foremost. The re-purposing of various early 20th century design styles is also ever-present. Chwast also seems to have a constant fascination with exploring humankind’s frailties in a lighthearted way. The uselessness of war and the attraction of consumption are themes that come up over and over again in his work. The biggest impression I get here is that the man is a non-stop art machine. The introductory essay by famed Push Pin designer (and Mrs. Chwast) Paula Scher confirms it. I wonder if he ever has times when he turns the creativity switch “off.”
Seymour: The Obsessive Images Of Seymour Chwast is published by Chronicle. Buy at Amazon.com here.
Weekly Mishmash: June 21-27
The Aura (2005). The final film for South American director-screenwriter Fabián Bielinsky. Like his previous Four Queens, this one concerns an ordinary man thrust into extraordinary circumstances. A timid taxidermist (Ricardo Darín) dreams of committing the perfect crime, never thinking he’d accomplish such a thing until a fateful hunting trip spins things into motion. Deliberately paced, beautifully photographed suspenser often gets by merely with the changing expressions in Darín’s face. Fulfilling up to and including the very last frames; I actually enjoyed this more than Four Queens (also recommended).
Various — The Complete Motown Singles, Vol. 4: 1964. A crazy quilt of a box set covering 163 a- and b-sides that Motown or its subsidiaries released (or planned to release) during 1964. This was the first year in which Motown had sustainable pop success, culminating with the Supremes’ first three #1 hits. It was also the year that the Temptations broke through after years of failed attempts at hits, the debut of the Four Tops with the peerless “Baby I Need Your Loving,” and the commercial peaks of Martha & The Vandellas (”Dancing In the Street”) and Mary Wells (”My Guy”). It’s interesting to listen to these enduring hits in the context of when they came out, surrounded by sometimes forgettable b-sides, interesting failures and outright flops (former child star Bobby Breen among the latter). Being the year of Beatlemania, you also have the blatant cash-in “Give Me A Kiss” by the Hornets — a bald faced “I Want To Hold Your Hand” ripoff — R. Dean Taylor’s silly “Lady Bug Stay Away From That Beatle” (cooler heads prevailed when they canceled the release of that one), and one of the few R&B attempts at a Fab Four sound with Oma Heard’s “Lifetime Man.” I find that, as I go earlier with these sets, there’s a lot more basic filler to be found. That’s especially the case with the samey sounding C&W on the Mel-O-Dy label, Berry Gordy’s valiant try at crashing the Country charts. Still, these are fascinating sets. I don’t mind at all that I’m going poor trying to collect them. Not at all!
Peter Pan (1953). I think it’s been about 25 or 30 years since I last saw this. When I first saw Peter Pan as a child, I remember being spellbound with the “You Can Fly” scene (it’s still enchanting). Besides that one highlight, however, this has never ranked among my favorite Disney classics. It just seems too shrill and unlovable, marred by several bad decisions. Making Peter Pan into a teenager with several girls competing for his attention was flaw #1. I also hated the bratty Tinkerbell as much now as I did at age ten. It really astonishes me that Disney is currently putting their marketing muscle behind her widely proportioned butt. The film is also too short (which is like complaining that the meal was lousy and the portions were too small, I know). One instance where the theme park attraction outdid the film it’s based upon, for sure.
A Royal Scandal (1945) and Angel Face (1952). Two recordings from TCM’s director salute to Otto Preminger. With A Royal Scandal, Preminger took over for an ailing Ernst Lubitch. This doesn’t surprise, since Lubitch’s stamp of forced gaiety is all over this gilded fabergé egg of a film chronicling Catherine the Great (Tallulah Bankhead) as she seduces a young army officer (William Eythe). In her last role as a screen leading lady, Bankhead has a wonderfully droll way with her lines that elevates the material. I also enjoyed the opportunity to see the underused and attractive Eythe in a meaty role (for more on Eythe, see Just Ask Christopher). Too bad the script was a stagey, cliché-ridden waste. The melodramatic Angel Face made for somewhat more worthwhile viewing, even if it often falls into the old “beautiful girl goes apeshit” trap. In the title role, Jean Simmons plays a rich and deceptively controlling young woman who convinces beefy ambulance driver Robert Mitchum to help her dispose of an annoying relative. Claptrap of the most enjoyable kind, with a genuinely surprising climax.
Who Gets To Call It Art? (2006). Sundance Channel recording. A lively documentary on Henry Geldzahler, legendary curator of modern acquisitions at the Metropolitain Museum of Art from the ’60s to the ’80s. From this film, Geldzahler comes across as a flamboyant enigma with a talent for befriending every emerging artist just before they “make it”. The only glimpse at his private life can be seen in the figure of a man standing nearby in David Hockney’s famous portrait of the man. On that count the film doesn’t succeed, but it is a cool look at the art scene of that era brimming with nice contemporary interviews with Hockney, Frank Stella, Larry Poons and James Rosenquist. This film even uses footage from the duller than dull Painters Painting to good effect.
A Woman Under the Influence (1974). I’ve never seen a John Cassavetes film before this particular one popped up on the Sundance channel lineup (an aside: I love the Sundance channel). Gena Rowlands and Peter Falk star as a married couple in L.A. dealing with her descent into madness. Although it takes a good while to gain momentum and Cassavetes’ sloppiness as a director is all too evident, this film packs a wallop. Though well-intentioned, Falk’s character does all the wrong things in reacting to his wife’s puzzling behavior — which makes the film all the more agonizing. Rowlands is, in a word, amazing. This movie could have easily been pruned by a half hour, but what remains is a wow.
Valley of the Dolls
For vintage marionette kiddie show weirdness, Space Patrol will fill my quota for the week. With inebriated puppets and an eerie soundtrack, consider it a shoddier predecessor to Thunderbirds. “The earthquake upset my equilibrium.” Right, missy.
Meat That Can’t Be Beat
Let’s talk ground meat. Especially the myriad ways ground meat could be prepared for that idea-strapped ’50s housewife. Exciting, eh?
Then again, maybe not. Let’s instead focus our energies on the chapter heading artwork from The Ground Meat Cookbook, forgotten bits of ephemeral cuteness which count among the latest additions to my Cool Vintage Illustration flickr set (note: this isn’t the first time I’ve been enamored of a Culinary Institute cookbook, nor will it likely be the last). Drawn by a lady by the name of Selma Quateman, these illustrations have a clunky charm that brings to mind some of Warhol’s pre-Pop Art stuff. It’s always funny to me how these old meat-based cookbooks never fail to sport drawings of adorable cows, horses, lambs, etc. The one of farm animals sniffing out a succulent meal is particularly sick. Have a looksee:
Weekly Mishmash: June 14-20
Before we begin the mishmash, let me direct you to the new look at Web-Goddess.org. I designed the banner and drew the cartoon portrait of Kris a few months back. It was a fun challenge and she nicely integrated the banner design with the rest of her site. Cool beans.
A Cast of Friends by Bill Hanna with Tom Ito. Used book sale purchase. Along with longtime partner Joe Barbera, William Hanna created The Flintstones, Yogi Bear and about a million interchangeable cartoons (remember Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels?) that sucked many a Saturday morning for the kiddie me. This book was a short, sometimes interesting look into the animation biz as he and Barbera adapted it to the TV age. Hanna was more of a businessman than a true creative, however, and it shows in the way he approaches this memoir. At times, his bland affirmations come across like a CEO addressing a stockholder meeting. The best segments are his early memories of working at Warner Bros. and MGM in the ’30s, developing a scruffy cat and mouse who would evolve into Tom & Jerry. By the time he gets to his time as a TV titan forty years on, he seems more content to rhapsodise about his boat or offer banal observations on family and aging. I wonder if Chuck Jones ever got this doddery in his twilight years?
From Here To Eternity (1953) and High Noon (1952). Strangely enough, I’ve never seen either of these until they popped up as part of the Fred Zinneman director salute on Turner Classic Movies. I loved From Here To Eternity. The film might look hokey and overacted by today’s standards, but in 1953 this was potent stuff delivered by a surprisingly diverse cast. Montgomery Clift, Burt Lancaster and Frank Sinatra head a cast that actually comes across as refreshingly low-key and realistic for a vintage melodrama. Deborah Kerr attempting to stifle her British accent probably fares the worst, but she’s okay enough. Given its pedigree, High Noon was something of a disappointment. I wouldn’t rank it as one of the best ever, but I enjoyed the mounting sense of dread as Gary Cooper faces the most trying hour of his life. Westerns aren’t a genre that I normally gravitate towards (I live in a desert; deserts are boring), but this one had a strong enough story to keep me intrigued. Like Eternity, it has an excellent supporting cast of pros who give it their all.
Ghandi (1982). Is this epic as ponderous and boring as they say? Yes. Did it steal the Best Picture Oscar away from E.T.? I’d say no. Though overlong by at least a half hour, Ben Kingsley created a magnificent Mahatma Ghandi, and the film’s pacifist message holds up better over the years than Spielberg’s “find your inner child” granola. This film is very meditative in spirit, and I dug it.
Painters On Painting (1973). Dull documentary explores the New York art scene as it was moving past Abstract Expressionism and Pop into Minimalism and Conceptual art. Contrasting gritty black and white interview footage with color shots of various paintings, the film really ought to be titled Painters Talking. They talk and talk, revealing mostly that they only know how to express themselves through their art. Robert Rauchenberg and Andy Warhol are the most entertaining simply because of their quirky personalities. It is interesting to see many painters at this midpoint juncture in their careers. Many, such as Frank Stella, would go on to make better stuff later on than when this was filmed.
Various - The Casablanca Records Story. Out of print box set from 1994, nabbed off eBay for a song. Primarily known as a disco label, Casablanca actually had a diverse lineup that fully embodied the hedonistic “do it till you’re satisfied” ethos of the ’70s. Opening with the seductive 14 minute album-length version of Donna Summer’s “Love To Love You Baby,” this set captures the full spectrum of its 1976-83 heyday. The label’s flagship rock act KISS is M.I.A., but lots of disco in rare and unusual 12″ mixes kept me hypnotically entertained with their repetitive beats. A few overlooked gems stand out, such as Teri DeSario’s terrific Barry Gibb production “Ain’t Nothin’ Gonna Keep Me From You.” There’s also lots of tasty funk jams from Parliament and Cameo, and… the Captain & Tennille? A personal fave would be the 7-1/2 minute album version of Meco’s immortal “Star Wars Theme/Cantina Band,” which includes bits of Princess Leia’s musical motif. Geek heaven, I tell ya.
Addictipedia
New Two Bunnies and a Duck is up today. Subject: Wikipedia. I can’t get enough of Wikipedia. You go there to look up something, then find that an hour has gone by and you’re looking at something that had nothing to do with what you originally came there for.
There’s also the Two Bunnies and a Duck book at Lulu.com. I find that the book has been downloaded exactly zero times since being uploaded six months ago. Not that I’m bitter about it or anything.
Make It Stop
A nice reader requested of me, “Matt, can you share some video of Bananarama’s ‘I Heard A Rumour’ as performed by the cast of Kids Incorporated?” Truthfully, nobody asked me that. But here it is, anyhow.
Rest Stops, R.I.P.
Via his Twitter feed, Tim Halbur alerted me to a cool but depressing article on that now endangered piece of roadside Americana, the rest stop. I love the uniqueness of rest stops from state to state, the wild architecture (check out the photos with the article), the local historical lore. Visiting them is one of the little pleasures of traveling by auto. What a crying shame that they’re are being replaced with pee stops at McDonalds!
True story: when I was a young tyke, my family took annual drives through Nebraska to visit the grandparents. One particular summer at our first rest stop, I came across a brochure showing modern sculptures installed at several rest stops along the state’s main highway. For the rest of the trip, my patient parents made a point to visit every stop with a sculpture we could — just to indulge their art-crazy kid. It was a memorable trip. Nebraska’s 500 Mile Sculpture Garden came about during the Bicentennial; a documentary on the project can be viewed here.
Weekly Mishmash: June 7-13
The Blossoming Of Maximo Oliveros (2005). Sundance Channel recording. An endearing indie film from the Philippines that does wonders with a low budget. The film centers around twelve year-old Maxi, a swishy boy whose preferences for girlish clothes, romantic movies and Miss Universe pageant reenactments makes him a target for teasing in his ghetto neighborhood. Maxi cares for his widower dad and two brothers in a loving arrangement which becomes strained when he gets a crush on a local cop (y’see, he comes from a family of petty criminals). An unusual subject for an Asian movie, but it’s handled with sensitivity and good performances from the leading kid on down to the extras. This was shot on videotape and looks it, but the director does an excellent job of capturing the atmosphere of this shithole Philippino neighborhood. Worth looking out for.
The Hunger (1982). One of Christopher’s special favorites. I don’t think this vampire flick is very successful, but it’s strangely watchable for the über-’80s stylistic features director Tony Scott put in every scene. The casting isn’t perfect, but the blank attractiveness of Catherine Deneuve, David Bowie and Susan Sarandon actually works in Scott’s favor here. This film might have a deeper meaning, drawing parallels between the vapidity of ’80s culture and a vampire’s desire for eternal youth — but mostly what I remember are the Bauhaus song, a rapidly aging monkey and Sarandon’s hot lesbian scene.
The Life of Emile Zola (1937). Plush, old fashioned biopic became the latest in my quest to see every Best Picture Oscar winner. This was a good one, covering an ambitious story with a thankfully un-ponderous touch. The prestigious side of the Warner Bros. studio was at the top of its game here, and Paul Muni in the title role dials down his usual hammyness to good effect. As a wrongly imprisoned French army officer, Joseph Schildkraut handily deserved his Supporting Actor award.
Bette Midler - Broken Blossom. Now I feel really gay, having downloaded a Bette Midler album. I suppose this was one of Bette’s lesser efforts, sporting only one semi-hit single (”Daybreak,” a fairly routine Adult Contemporary number) amongst a set that may have been too diverse for its own good. Actually, this album chiefly demonstrates that the lady has excellent taste. My favorites are the Ronettes’ “Paradise” and Billy Joel’s “Say Goodbye To Hollywood,” sizzling numbers produced (some may say overproduced) with girl group-y panache. The Tom Waits duet “I Never Talk To Strangers” is another highlight, more of a theatrical mood piece than anything else. I also enjoyed her sensitive versions of Eddy Arnold’s “You Don’t Know Me” and the Disney standard “A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes.” Only the hard-thumping “Red” fails. Sorry, Bette, you’re no rocker.
Prick Up Your Ears (1987). Flix recording. Another excellent film that for some reason I’d never seen before. Years from scenery chewing in whatever Hollywood blockbuster paid the bills, Gary Oldman shines as the ’60s British playwright Joe Orton. Oldman portrays him as an appealing rascal, campy and lighthearted but also casually cruel and destructive. Alfred Molina also delivers as Orton’s combustive lover, Kenneth Halliwell. The film’s theme is less about gayness and more about fame and the havoc it can cause. I loved it.
Saving Private Ryan (1998). This month, Turner Classic Movies is turning over their schedule to saluting great directors. Normally this kind of thing annoys me, but I’m using it to catch up on various upper-tier movies that for one reason or another passed me by. So, now I’ve seen Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan. One would be hard pressed to find another film that more accurately captures the WWII experience. That opening sequence aptly conveys the random horror of combat (although it wasn’t as uncomfortable to watch as I feared). Tell me, people, how did Shakespeare In Love win Best Picture over this?
Up (2009). The results of a theater and lunch excursion on Friday. This was every bit as inspiring as everyone’s been saying. Compared with other Pixar ventures, I’d rank it behind the first Toy Story and Wall•E and just ahead of The Incredibles on the greatness-o-meter. Initially I was weary about the premise; for some reason I thought the entire film would do little more than follow around an old man floating his house with balloons. Of course, this movie is about far more than that. It’s a lot of fun, even when the story drags into familiar territory towards the middle and end (at times it felt like I was watching more standard Disney fare, like Bolt). I love that the filmmakers resisted turning Carl and Russel into familiar types; even Kevin the bird doesn’t have the standard “cute animal” treatment. On another note, this is the first Pixar that I cried at. Several scenes brought a tear to my eye, but one part in particular had me practically bawling like a baby. Even telling C. about it later, I started crying again. Guess I’m becoming an old softie.
Moment of Anger
For your pleasure, here’s Kenneth Anger’s short film Puce Moment. Shaky camera, gay adoration of artifice, ironic treatment of the recent past… nobody was thinking this way in 1949, but here’s the exception. This one actually looks more like a recent indie music video than anything else. According to Anger’s commentary, the actress who appears here retired from film to become the well-kept mistress of the president of Mexico.
Mini Me Movie Maven
I always enjoy it when people share the childhood art projects, and never thought that I would also have that opportunity until my mother came by recently with a folder stuffed with old school photos and such. Also tucked away in the folder were assignments I did in the fourth and sixth grades. Coincidentally, both have an “old movie” theme. This doesn’t surprise me, since old cartoons and movies like The Wizard of Oz fueled my fascination with just about anything and everything produced before my birth date. Plus, I was always an artistic kid who wanted nothing more than to sit around and draw all day (the fact that I was constantly, constantly picked last for all sports team activities attested to that). So, what better way to convey my fascination with old crap than through old art?
Our first project is a homemade mask made in fourth grade art class, lovingly rendered in tempera and glitter. For some reason, I had a vague recollection of this one being of Charlie Chaplin. Actually, it was Groucho Marx. I probably never saw a Marx Brothers movie at this point, but even in the ’70s Groucho was so ingrained in pop culture that I knew enough of his distinctive look to want to make a mask of him. It’s cute:
Our second project is a written report I did on the history of the movies, dated January 1981. This had both a research and oral component (for which I got a B+ and an A, respectively). Of course, the most important part for me was drawing up a snazzy and complex cover design. It had to have an Art Deco font, right? Too bad I didn’t know enough about letter spacing not to mess up the “y” in “History”:
The bottom half of the report is various caricatures of Hollywood movie stars. Although I can’t identify most of them for the life of me, I do recognize a few. See if you can find Bob Hope, Greta Garbo, the Lone Ranger, Donald Duck, Barbra Steisand, Fay Wray in King Kong’s hand, Elvis Presley, Alfred Hitchcock, Shirley Temple, Charlie Chaplin, R2-D2, Mickey Mouse, W.C. Fields, Louis Armstrong, Lassie, Jimmy Durante, Godzilla, Snow White and Grumpy, and the Beatles amongst the crowd (I think a snotty “friend” of mine drew the extra long tongue coming out of Shirley Temple’s mouth!).
Weekly Mishmash: May 31-June 6
The Complete Peanuts 1965-66 by Charles M. Schulz. Another fun Complete Peanuts volume. The strips collected here coincide with the apex of Peanuts-mania in America, as highlighted with a Snoopy & co. Time magazine cover in April of ‘65. The first year has a few interesting storylines involving Charlie Brown at summer camp, Sally being prescribed an eye patch, Linus having his blanket shipped away to his uncaring grandma, and the ever-present losing streaks in baseball. Amusing as always, but I’m getting the first inklings here that Schulz is settling into too familiar ground. This book also contains the earliest Snoopy vs. the Red Baron strips, a theme that I never particularly enjoyed. Luckily, the introduction of Peppermint Patty in late ‘66 contributed a needed shot of energy to the Peanuts gang (and her earliest strips are hilarious). For the future, I’m looking forward to the addition of Woodstock and noticing when the girl characters start wearing pants instead of dresses.
Jesus Camp (2006). This documentary is as scary as I’ve heard, and totally riveting. Chronicling a summer camp for evangelical Christian children, this film doesn’t shy away from the fact that the organization really exists for adults to drill their extremist views on adult subjects (abortion, censorship, etc.) into kids who aren’t allowed the simple freedom to grow and figure things out for themselves. Scenes where children are induced into crying and confession their sins (really, what kind of deep dark sin does a child have?) are difficult to watch. Other scenes, such as when a church congregation is urged to pray over a cardboard George W. Bush cutout, are almost too bizarre to believe. This was an extremely well-made documentary that doesn’t hit one over the head with an agenda; it simply shows what it shows with a chilling straightforwardness. The camp uses a lot of warlike imagery and brainwashing techniques that mirror what extremist Muslims do to groom kids to become suicide bombers and such. I take comfort in how, since this film’s 2006 release, the camp in question has been discontinued. Now I’d love to see a sequel, if only to find out how screwed up these kids became as adolescents.
Phoenix — Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. I went for something brand new with my third iTunes album. This is an invigorating indie rock set, along the same lines as Phoenix’s previous one (It’s Never Been Like That) — only more tuneful and diverse, a signpost of the band’s evolution. It seems inconceivable that this is the same group that I first heard ten years ago doing slick, Daft Punk-inspired disco instrumentals, but here’s to progress. “Lisztomania” and “1901″ provide a bang-up opener, and they go into intriguing ambient territory with the two-parter “Love Like A Sunset.” I also loved the unusual stop-start structure of “Countdown.” The vocals and guitars are sharp as ever, even if they get into a few samey sounding tunes toward the end. Perhaps not the defining summer soundtrack that everyone says, but excellent nonetheless.
The Signal (2007). Unusual indie horror story told in three distinct segments by different directors. The first segment, detailing the first few hours after an unexplained radio/TV signal turns half of L.A. into homicidal maniacs, is potent and engrossing. Were it that the rest of the film was that creepy and cool, but it quickly turns into a rote effort in which characters do inexplicable things for no good reason. The second segment takes a whiplash-inducing turn from comedic to ulta-gory, and the third segment was just plain boring. Oh, well.
Stand and Deliver (1988). Part of TCM’s Latino Images in Film fest from last month. A pretty standard “inspirational teacher” tale elevated by Edward James Olmos’ commanding lead and an appealing supporting cast. The students too quickly transform from barrio brats to studious braniacs, but I appreciate how each kid gets sympathetic vignettes into their diverse home lives. Although I never saw this movie before, strangely enough I remember Mr. Mister’s theme song back when it first came out — and there it was, during the closing credits! My brain is incapable of holding anything like calculus equations, but it sure knows its share of cheesy ’80s movie themes.
The White Sister (1923). Beautiful but plodding Lillian Gish vehicle in which she plays an emotional woman who turns to the nunnery when her soldier love (Ronald Colman in his first film role) goes missing in Africa. The fact that this movie clocks in at almost two and a half hours in an era when most features were barely over an hour might tell you something. Gorgeous photography on location in Italy adds a sumptuous look to the proceedings, and Lillian looks absolutely luminous in several close-ups — but the story is so damned old fashioned and it goes on forever. I’m going to have to pick a better silent next time.
World’s Creepiest Videos
In the annals of memorable claymation music videos, I count Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer” and the considerably less famous “Another Kind Of Love” from Stranglers singer Hugh Cornwall among the greats. I can remember being seriously creeped out by this one when it originally came out (I also remember MTV blurring out the breasts). As it turns out, the video was directed by the acclaimed Czech filmmaker Jan Švankmajer.
Very Special
With Bottom Feeders: The Ass End of the ’80s, Dave Steed of Popdose.com is cataloging every song that charted outside the top 40 but within Billboard’s Hot 100 in the ’80s. This is a fascinating, if huge, project that I’m overjoyed that I stumbled upon. Steed has been at this for a year, but he’s only up to the “L” artists in the alphabet. A lot of good stuff falls in this area — R&B, Hip Hop, Metal, Adult Contemporary and Country hits with limited mass appeal, obscurities from outside the U.S., movie soundtrack junk, lesser-known singles from big name acts, etc. If anything, it allows me to hear previously unheard gems like Stacy Lattisaw’s “Attack of the Name Game.”
