I’m dead. This Latin drama (coming first from Mexico and here by way of Philadelphia) vibrating through the angelic trinity known to us as, “The Three Degrees” equates, for me, a lethal overdose of a soul sonic sound drug. (But, “It’s Impossible,” you say. Correct. Yes it is to most…but for a moment, in a recordng studio in 1975, on an album titled, “International” that would soon be released by Philadelphia International Records, it was a new hybrid sound we’ll call simply, Spanish Philly Soul.) There’s just no other way to put it… and no video. You’ll have to see it in your own minds, my readers.
Now, listen. Listen at your own risk but rest assured because it’s merely a temporary death. You’ll be back to life, listening to Sia and The Weekend in about four minutes.
as we both feel a mutual & profound love
and with that, we have already won the biggest prize (prize not included in text, however, in English, cannot simply say biggest)
of this world
we make love (love each other), we kiss
we desire each other & sometimes even without a reason
& without cause, we fight (get angry)
we nurture an innocent and pure love
as everyone does
we wait for night time (lit.: we seek for the darkest moment, but in English we don’t express it this way)
I have quite a bit of Hawaiian music because I like it. Never been there. Like the music. This album from C. Francis is about as authentically Hawaiian as the bridal hair ornament she is wearing on the cover. Lovers of Hawaiian music may want to give this one a miss. jus sayin’.
If I ever make it to Polynesia, and if I am by then over the age of eighty, and if perhaps I happen to add a tuinol to my daily tylenol, then juuuust maybe I would think this record is great. Don’t get me wrong – Love Connie. Worship Connie. Hawaii Connie? Not so much. BUT in the spirit of the holidays I am offering an entirely OPTIONAL FREE DOWNLOAD of this ok album. To have your very own digital copy you may simply,
By who else? – The multi-instrumental recording vangaurd, Mr. Tommy Garrett. Seen here during a white hot session with THE MONKEES.
Regarding all “Fifty (whatevers)” records: if you find yourself wanting to further explore this unique, sometimes genius, sometimes queasy making lost sub-genre of instrumental lounge recorderings and long-playing stereo alblums, be warned. All the “Fifty Mandolins of …” albums are un-listenable, most probably demonic-ly generated for the purpose of furthering dark energies in the musical universe and will instantly (and permanently) damage not only your hearing but also your personality…forever….WHAT???? HUH????
Contrarily, this ultra “it” bossa-nova record is clyass. I wore this OUT back in da Beige day.
mmmmm… Caipirinhas … If I were sipping one with my old friend Conn, I might say, “It’s all about the Caxaca, Conn.”
And now ladies and Gentlemen, now that those Olympics are over, let’s go back to the music.