The ONE And ONLY Mr. VELVET...

Ask most people of a certain age about JIM REEVES and they'll likely say "Oh, the Country & Western singer."  Jim indeed did start his career as a C&W singer, in the mould of HANK WILLIAMS and JIMMIE RODGERS, singing - as a tenor - for the FABOR and ABBOTT record labels.  After STEVE SHORES (who also signed ELVIS) had snapped up Jim for RCA VICTOR, Jim started pitching his voice as a baritone and, with the help of CHET ATKINS, the "Nashville Sound" was born.

Back around 1980 or so (16 years after his untimely death in an aeroplane accident), he was placed as one of the top 10 best-selling artists of all time.  I'm unsure as to his exact status these days, but only a few years ago, in 2009, his SONY-released The VERY BEST Of JIM REEVES CD reached number 7 in the U.K. album charts.  Simply put, Jim is arguably the best balladeer of the 20th century, with (according to PAT TWITTY) "...a voice which possesses the gentleness of one who might walk through snow and leave no footprint."

Here, then, is a gallery of various covers from Jim's albums for RCA, both while he was alive and after he'd passed.  For those who prefer singers with a good, clean, masculine voice (unless they're women, obviously), this is the man for you.  And with Christmas not that far away, it might be a good idea to start searching on eBay for the last album in the line.  Quite simply, it's the best Yuletide album ever produced.  Well, what are you waiting for?  Good hunting!

******

Update: Jim Reeves Gold, a 3 CD compilation released in 2020, reached number 5 in Sainsbury's best-selling albums when it first went on sale.  While reflecting what was popular only in Sainsbury's, it's still not bad for a singer who'd been dead for 56 years at the time.  

  

KING KIRBY'S DEMON COVER GALLERY - PART THREE...

Copyright DC COMICS

 

Here it is, KIRBY fans, the third and final part of The DEMON cover gallery, designed to dazzle and delight all lovers of the Jolly one's output for DC COMICS, way back in the sizzlin' '70s nearly 40 years ago.  As usual, Jack did his best during his time at DC, but - for whatever reason - his mags there failed to inspire the same degree of demand amongst comicbook readers as those he had collaborated on with STAN LEE over at 'The House of Ideas'.

 

If anyone wants to pitch in with their ideas as to why, feel free.

   

SINGLE MEMORIES AT 45 RPM...

I think I've got a pretty good memory for events from my childhood, but I'm continually amazed at how the mind can play tricks with the facts.  For example, back in the '60s, in our house there used to reside a collection of 45 rpm singles.  (I was never quite sure whose they were, my brother's, my dad's, or a weird mish-mash of both.)  One single I recall was DON'T LET THE RAIN COME DOWN by well-known crooner of the day, RONNIE HILTON.  On the B side of the record was A WINDMILL IN OLD AMSTERDAM (which I defy you to listen to and not hum for the rest of the week).

Apparently, Embassy records were only available in Woolworth's 

At least, that's how I remember it, but the reality is different - as I found out recently when I started to re-acquire some of those self-same singles from yesteryear.  (Actually, I have many of the tunes on CD, but I wanted to own again the actual singles from the period.)  The above pair of ditties, which I thought were both sides of the same record, are actually two separate discs.  The same thing happened with BOBBY'S GIRL by SUSAN MAUGHAN.  We used to have the single, which had (JAMES) HOLD THE LADDER STEADY as the B side.  Well, as I discovered, no we didn't.  That particular disc was by KAY BARRY, who did her own versions of those two songs associated with Susan.

Another peculiarity is how a song can summon up memories of a particular time and place - and in fact, even stray beyond its own precise perimeters.  One single which I know was my brother's is TAP TURNS ON THE WATER by CCS, with rather naughty lyrics.  Recalling it today, I find that I tend to associate it with the entire period of nearly 7 years that we resided in that particular house.  However, history records that it wasn't released until 1971, and as we moved from the house halfway through 1972, it represents only about a year of our time there, not the complete span.  In fact, when I think back, it seems that we owned every single at the same time and for the same duration, whereas they'd actually have been acquired at intervals over a period of years.

Of course, I'm aware that, near the end of our tenancy there, we actually did have all those singles at the same time, but looking back, it seems that it was always so - for the complete duration, not just towards the close of our stay.  Funny how the mind sometimes compresses separate moments into almost one big single seamless memory, don't you think?

WOMAN, THY NAME IS SALMA...

While I try and come up with something

to write about that may be of interest to anyone,

here's three pics of the gorgeous SALMA HAYEK

to tide you over.  But remember - I saw her first.

(Now put your eyes back in their sockets.)

The LION, The PUFFIN, & The UNICORN...

I acquired a book from the 1960s recently (a 1967 hardback of The WIND In The WILLOWS), and affixed inside was the above label for the owner to record their name.  It hadn't been used so I promptly added one of my personal address labels to mark the book as my own.

There's something very quaint about the label, so I thought I'd reproduce it here for anyone who might like to copy it and print out their own labels for their august tomes (or even their BEANO Annuals).  There's no copyright mark on the label so I presume it's okay.

(3 x 4 inches is the approximate size.)

SCHOOL'S OUT FOR EVER (REPRISE)...

My old school on a brighter evening a year or two back

I took a walk along to one of my childhood neighbourhoods earlier this evening, just as twilight was beginning to fall and house and street lights were starting to pop on in not quite perfect unison.  My old primary school, which had recently housed the pupils from another area while their new building was being constructed (which it now is), lay before me in the gathering gloom.

Lights were on in the hall and a car was parked inside the grounds, so I approached and pressed the door buzzer.  A night watchman, who was looking after the place to deter thieves from breaking in and stealing anything of value (as had happened elsewhere), opened the door, but was unable to say when the structure would be demolished.  If it doesn't happen before the end of the year, it won't be too far into the next.

From a distance.  Soon it will be beyond reach

I sat on a park bench across from the school where, in retrospect, I'd spent many a happy childhood moment (though doubtless it didn't seem so at the time) and quaffed a can of Coke, while memories of the 6 years, 7 months I had lived in the area over 40 years before vied for my attention.  Then, with one more look at the school and my old house, I made my way home to my current abode - the one my family had flitted to back in 1972.

I've often felt that I could live again in my old neck of the woods, until I consider all that's changed since I left.  (Mostly in the last 20 years or so.)  As mentioned in previous posts, when we moved away from the place, at first I didn't miss it because I still attended the local secondary school, and would return after teatime to hang about with my pals in the neighbourhood shopping precinct.  When I repaired to my new home at the end of the evening, the ambience of my previous house (and the two before it) was preserved, on account of us still having the exact same furniture as before.  Because of this continuity of mood and atmosphere, it sometimes seemed to me that we had never moved at all.



The new school, with the old one in the background

However, back to my school, which, in its final fading days upon this earth, has been robbed of its identity and had it supplanted by another.  Its original appellation now adorns its own replacement in a far corner of the grounds, while the name of the school for which it temporarily filled in remains on the sign at the front gates.  Sadly, it will meet its fate under an alias, but, to me, it will always be itself, its true persona as apparent and unchangeable as when I first walked its hallowed halls and capacious corridors in the heady days of my youth.

SUPERCAR - THROUGH THE HEAVENS' MIGHTY RAGE... (Updated)

Back when I was a very young kid, I had a friction-drive SUPERCAR toy (manufactured by FAIRYLITE) which, though not particularly accurate, was certainly recognizable.  I placed it atop our BELLING electric fire one day, and the rising heat from the bars warped one of the wings slightly.  The toy is long lost to the mists of time and I've never really tried to replace it, though I may get around to it one day.  (Update: Now done so.)

Thankfully, however, PRODUCT ENTERPRISE stepped up to the bat with their excellent representation of the famed GERRY ANDERSON vehicle several years ago and I bought two of them.  (One to display, and the other to be kept in reserve.)  I now have more Supercars than I ever owned as a kid - four by JOHNNY LIGHTNING, two by Product Enterprise, two by CECIL COLEMAN, and one by BUDGIE TOYS - as well as a repro version.  (Not forgetting the one by Fairylite.)

Thought I'd share a few of photos of the PE version here.  Enjoy!

"A LEMON ENTRY, MY DEAR WATSON..."

Famous screen-actor VINCENT PRICE (he of THRILLER fame to you mere youngsters) regarded BASIL RATHBONE and JEREMY BRETT as joint-equal in their portrayal of BAKER STREET's celebrated Victorian detective, SHERLOCK HOLMES.  To him, they were both simply too good to choose between them.  True, Brett's TV series benefited from being set in the proper period that author SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE had written about, whereas, apart from two instances, Rathbone's films had been updated to the then-present day for wartime audiences, but the performance of both actors transcended the times in which their respective productions were set.

When The ADVENTURES Of SHERLOCK HOLMES first appeared on ITV back in 1984, I was instantly an ardent and appreciative viewer of the GRANADA programme.  For the first time since NIGEL STOCK back in the 1960s, DOCTOR WATSON was played straight and not for laughs - unlike NIGEL BRUCE's fumbling, bumbling (though endearing) performance in the Rathbone pictures.  I remember being much impressed when, in one particular Granada episode, Holmes and Watson exchanged a knowing and amused glance over a would-be client's manner as he related the details of what perplexed him.  It immediately made the characters seem more human and believable, and conveyed the rapport between the pair far more effectively than mere dialogue would've done.

DAVID BURKE made an excellent Watson opposite Brett's Holmes, and was much lauded at the time for his more serious portrayal of the character.  At first I was somewhat disappointed when he decided not to reprise his role in the next series, The RETURN Of SHERLOCK HOLMES, though EDWARD HARDWICK wasn't long in establishing himself in the part.

The strange thing is, watching Burke's performance nowadays whenever the show is repeated, I'm struck by something that neither I nor anyone else picked up on at the time - namely, that there is actually a discernible hint of the buffoon about his Watson that was completely absent in Hardwicke's characterization.  (Although, admittedly, had he never assumed the role, this aspect of his predecessor's portrayal may well have remained less obvious.)  Curious that, despite being celebrated for having essayed Watson closer to how Sir Arthur originally envisaged him, he's actually somewhere betwixt Bruce's and Hardwicke's interpretations - leaning more towards the latter of course, as Hardwicke continued in the direction that Burke had embarked on.

However, just as Rathbone and Brett are regarded equally as the epitome of Holmes in the estimation of many viewers, so too are Burke and Hardwicke considered to be the finest examples of Dr John Watson - Holmes' friend, colleague, companion and biographer.  Those Granada programmes are going to be a tough act to follow.

  

A DVD boxed set of The COMPLETE SHERLOCK HOLMES is available from HMV and other good music & movie stores.

The DOC & The DALS...

 

 

Spotted and bought in my local POUNDLAND shop - this DOCTOR WHO Advent Calendar for only a tenner.  Okay, that's an outright lie, but I thought it'd wake you up a bit.  H'mm, Poundland - wonder what the real price is then, eh?  Can anyone guess?  Nice picture at least.

WHEN TITANS CLASH, ETERNITY BECKONS...

Copyright MARVEL COMICS

Picture the scene: The living-room is lit by a standard lamp in the far corner, which casts its soft, warm glow over the fixtures, fittings and furniture - as well as the inhabitants, of which I am one.  Adding to the gentle light are the diffused rays from the coal-effect fire and the flickering images from the TV screen.  Father sits reading his paper, whilst mother stands behind him, ironing, and glancing occasionally at whatever's on 'the box'.  Sibling is out somewhere, either visiting friends or perhaps even working on his car in his lockup across the road.

As for myself, I'm sat beside a large brass 'log-box' in which was once stored coal for a 'real' fire, both in our present house and in the previous one.  On the floor, at my feet, sits a collection of comics, some of which were purchased, mail-order, from DAVE HERN of Bournemouth's WONDERWORLD COMICS, which, as far as I know, is still going strong (hopefully).

It's around 7 or 8 o'clock on a dusky Autumn evening and, outside, the 'tang' of the season permeates the air with its distinctive aroma peculiar to the time of year.  Inside, peace and tranquillity reign supreme, and all seems right with the world.  It's the year 1981 - or perhaps even '82 - and in my blissful state of ignorance, I'm unaware that, in a year and a half or so, my family will once again be moving to yet another house in another neighbourhood, with all the inconvenience, turmoil and trauma that such events always bring.  (Regular readers will know that we returned to our previous abode four years later.)

But for the moment, all is as it should be.  Contentment and harmony are the order of the day as I leisurely peruse some of my recent four-colour acquisitions.  It's entirely possible that I may be compressing separate but-similar evenings into one, but it seems to me, looking back from this distance in time, that amongst my comics stash that night were the very ones whose images adorn this hopefully poignant post.

Sometimes, nowadays, I'll try and re-create and recapture a hint of that narcotic night so many years ago - and, occasionally, I even succeed.  However, it's only ever a brief taste, self-consciously indulged in (like a guilty pleasure) before the moment fades like a phantom's fleeting passing in the mist.  I still have the comics, but not all of the other participants of that long-ago picturesque presentation have survived to reprise their previous roles in the play.  One by one they fell by the wayside, victims of Time.  (As we all must do one day, difficult as the idea is to accept.)

And so I take my leave of you for now, in the hope that my reminiscence, accompanied by such valiant visual images, has helped to summon some memorable memories from your own dim and distant days of yesteryear.  The ghosts of the past are always present - but sometimes we must strain to see them, or  hear their siren call.