On a discovery day, Peter Darlington pointed me towards this wonderful EP. And in doing so he allowed me to work out whether the Bandcamp plugin finally worked – after weeks of muddling around trying to get the thing to gel with what is a pretty basic WordPress template.
The story of 3 The Hard Way is one of those music industry specials. Back in 1994, their debut single, ‘Hip Hop Holiday’ came out of nowhere to become the first rap record to top the New Zealand charts.
See the link for more of the story and wider importance of this lost long player. Or Peter McLennan’s extended piece on this reissue.
And in case you’ve forgotten it, here’s a very funky Beasley Street, live on UK TV in 1980:
Mojo have followed their excellent albeit bizarre at times (if you’ve never seen it, that Brian Wilson interview on Mike Douglas is fascinating for all the wrong reasons) Beach Boys video compendium with a similar one on the Fab 4, (cheers Chris) focusing on 67/68. It includes this well-fab mini-doco on the making of Yellow Submarine and the often forgotten revolution in animation it stirred up at the time:
If you thought Mike Love was a prick before, read this……
Incidentally most of the claims he makes here about co-authorship of songs were later dismantled in court. Eventually Brian – in a mentally frayed state not least because of his heavily psychotic drugs Dr. Eugene Landy (who was also stripping him at the time) had him on – simply rolled over to make it go away.
And then there’s Wilson—always the conduit, the live wire, the pulsing limbic system of the Beach Boys. As his biographer David Leaf once put it, “Brian Wilson’s special magic in the early and mid-1960s was that he was at one with his audience … Brian had a teenage heart, until it was broken.”
At first, Wilson says nothing. Then I overhear him talking to Jardine “We’re 70 fucking years old,” he says. “You’ll be 70 in September. I’ll be 70 in June. I’m worried about being 70.”
“It’s still a few months off,” Jardine says.
“That’s true,” Wilson mutters.
He pauses for a few seconds, looking away from his bandmate. “I want to know how did we get here?” he finally says. “How did we ever fucking get here? That’s what I want to know.”
Here’s grumpy old Dave Dexter, the dude who trashed the early Beatles recordings and albums for Capitol in the US, moaning and grumbling about the band, their lack of talent and their generally unpleasant personalities – ‘cos he sounds like a real bundle of joy: