Superchunk Crossed Wires/Blinders

The video for this Superchunk song is such a tiny masterpiece of brilliance that I simply had to deliver it to you like a freshly baked treat from the Internet’s secret bakery of wonders. As a lifelong cat enthusiast, I’ve hosted more furry roommates than I can reasonably keep track of, and at the moment our household boasts five indoor kitties and one outdoor momma who supervises the property like a tiny, whiskered landlady.

Cooper, ever the diplomat, adores his feline companions — but only one has earned the coveted title of Best Buddy: Princess Rian, though around here she answers mostly to Princess Pussface. We brought her and her sister inside ages ago (their momma, the outdoor landlord, prefers the great outdoors; we got her fixed, tried to introduce her to indoor life, and she responded with the vibe of a cat who has drafted a formal complaint and signed it with one perfect pawprint.

Princess Pussface, at first, wanted nothing to do with any of us. She perfected the art of the aloof royal glare… until she noticed the other cats having a riotous time. That’s when she surrendered to the dark side — or, more accurately, the fun side — and immediately decided Cooper was her chosen one.

But back to the video. I’ve only ever had one cat who might’ve been capable of starring in it if he’d been allowed to roam the neighborhood like a tiny, chaotic troubadour. Julian was mine — a heart full of affection and a brain full of schemes that definitely weren’t approved by management. He crossed the rainbow bridge about five years ago, but oh, he was a devil. A glorious, mischievous devil. He climbed everything, treated gravity like a personal challenge, and had a particular fondness for stealing my plastic record sleeves so he could surf them down the stairs like a feline Evel Knievel.

I miss Julian. He was trouble wrapped in fur, and he made the world more interesting.

 

  

The Sandells - Scrambler/Out Front

This Memorial Day handed me a day off like a slightly crumpled coupon someone forgot in their pocket — still valid, still delightful. It is also granting me the noble quest of trading my unwanted 45s for someone else’s hopefully‑coveted 45s, a ritual that feels a bit like vinyl speed‑dating. And, of course, I am treating myself to some boss sounds from the Sandals (or their earlier name Sandells), because nothing says “holiday spirit” like surf‑soaked guitar lines and Hot Rod soundz trying to high‑five your eardrums.

Naturally, in true Noize fashion, I recorded the B‑side first. Why? Because I operate on a personal timeline known only to me, the moon, and possibly Cooper. — and also, because the B‑side is my favorite. Oh, but who am I kidding — the A‑side doesn’t just hold its own, it struts in with a grin, carrying enough voltage to light up the whole block. The revving engines rise behind it like a rowdy chorus, and Out-Front comes screaming through the mix, turning the whole moment into a wild parade of sound and swagger.

So I sit here with my coffee and let the Surf sound hit me with its usual Monday magic, blasting through my speakers like a caffeinated seagull with a mission, giving me the Monday boost I didn’t technically need, since Cooper — the wonder dog, part canine, part motivational speaker — had already taken me on a walk so invigorating it could’ve been marketed as a spiritual awakening. He strutted along as if he’d been personally appointed to raise the nation’s morale, and honestly, the nation could use a generous dose of whatever brand of positive moral fiber he’s handing out.

The Chariot Gospel Singers - Tell Him / Thank You

I know I lean heavily on the Peacock label, but honestly — why shouldn’t this greatness be shared? Peacock may have been based in Texas, yet its reach stretched far beyond state lines. Take The Chariot Gospel Singers, for example. They hailed from Ohio, and a quick search reveals they were formed by Henry Bossard, a former member of the legendary Swan Silvertones — a group that has already graced this blog three times. Connections like that are exactly why I keep coming back to this label’s catalog. It’s a whole universe of gospel brilliance waiting to be rediscovered.

 

The Bossmen - Hey Congratulations/Bad Girl

Saturday obscurity at its finest. And yes, I’m cheating a little. Back in 2012 I posted the Dick Wagner & The Frost 45 “Bad Girl” on Date — complete with the elusive picture sleeve. Today’s mail‑order treasure? A “Bossmen” single pairing “Hey Congratulations” with (surprise!) “Bad Girl.”

I dropped the needle and immediately thought, Wow, this sounds exactly like Wagner’s version. Well, kiddies, peeps, children of the revolution — that’s because the Bossmen were basically Dick Wagner with a band name attached. (No, I didn’t research whether they were the same lineup as The Frost. There are only so many hours in a day and I need at least two of them for coffee.)

My quick dive into Wagner’s résumé turned up things I had absolutely no clue about. Apparently he was recruited to play on Lou Reed’s Berlin, then became musical director for the Rock ’n’ Roll Animal tour, rearranging Velvet Underground songs for both the shows and the record.

And then it gets better — absurdly, cosmically better. How, you ask? Well, you — my followers with rock‑and‑roll IQs so high they need their own air‑traffic control — probably already knew that Wagner was one of the dueling guitar sorcerers on Rock ’n’ Roll Animal. Yes, that “Sweet Jane” intro, the one that sounds like the gates of heaven opening for a leather‑jacketed angel.

How did I not know this, considering that album has been welded to my soul since forever?Now the fact is lodged in my brain like a glittering shard of trivia, and I can only wonder which perfectly useful piece of knowledge it shoved aside to make room. My PIN number? My anniversary? The location of my car keys? Hard to say. The mind is a chaotic jukebox.

Lou Reed has only made one appearance here so far, which is frankly negligent on my part. I’ll fix that. Eventually.

The Elgins-You Found Yourself Another Fool/Street Scene

The weekend — no, let’s give it its proper title, the glorious Three‑Day Weekend — is creeping up, so allow me to seduce your senses with some sweet, swooning, soul‑soaked goodness. — the kind of record that the buying public completely ignored at the time, proving once again that history has terrible taste. What was once a bargain‑bin wallflower has now become a hard‑to‑find luxury — like stumbling across its brilliance at a yard sale, a flash of treasure so startling and luminous it makes you wonder who on earth let such a marvel slip away in the first place.

We’re dealing with one of those “who had the name first?” situations. Unfortunately for this particular group of Elgins, they had zero chart action, so they politely step aside for Motown’s V.I.P. Elgins — the more famous vocal group who actually got invited to the party. But this final 45 of theirs? It outshines the “other” Elgins so thoroughly it should come with sunglasses.

Released in the overcrowded musical jungle of 1965 on the Valiant label — a label so obscure it practically came pre‑filed under “forgotten” — the record eventually found salvation thanks to the northern soul crowd, who have a talent for rescuing neglected masterpieces.

“Street Scene,” with its slow‑burn In‑Crowd vibe, was apparently the intended A‑side. Cute. But it’s the B‑side, “You Found Yourself Another Fool,” that does the real seducing. This copy someone doodled on the label, which I choose to interpret as physical evidence of the moment the song hijacked their brain. Fair enough — it grabbed mine too.

Ria And The Revellons -She Fell In Love/He's Not There

Crackly Ria and The Revellons crash‑landed onto my Thursday Girl Soundz like they’d been smuggled in by a time‑traveling jukebox. They started with that Shangri‑Las swagger, but then—bam!—my brain did a cartwheel and suddenly I’m hearing David Johansen from the New York Dolls yelling from the corner of the room. Wild how your mind just grabs two unrelated records and insists they’re cousins.

Anyway, this was another one of those flea‑market miracles, the kind where you find treasure only if you’ve got a few crumpled bills and a reckless spirit. I took the plunge (because you know I’m powerless against those girl‑group harmonies), even though the vinyl looks like it spent fourteen summers as a dog’s favorite frisbee. And the marker scribbles? Absolutely the work of a DJ who had given up on life and possibly gravity.

Sonny Curtis- Talk About My Baby/Red Headed Stranger

We lost Sonny Curtis last September, and his passing drifted by like a quiet chord change — subtle, almost unnoticed, but leaving the air different once it was gone. His songs traveled farther than most people realize, landing in the hands of artists as wildly different as the Everly Brothers, Bobby Vee and the Clash, Hüsker Dü and the Dead Kennedy's. And of course, before all that, he was a Cricket, standing right there in the glow of Buddy Holly’s early brilliance.

He never scored a blockbuster hit under his own name, but his recording career ran deep, wide, and wonderfully strange — proof enough in this 1960 45. Red Headed Stranger may have worn the A‑side crown, but it’s Talk About My Baby that hits me square in the sweet spot, the way only a perfectly cut, slightly forgotten gem can.