Albums That Meant Something - Part 3 - Tell the World About It

During the early to mid-1980's, my mom worked in the speaker assembly plant for H.H. Scott, one the of pioneering manufacturers of stereo components (long since absorbed into the Emerson brand). I'm sure I still have one of the company's promo t-shirts, emblazoned with the very classy tagline "SCOTT PUTS OUT" (front) "HIGH FIDELITY COMPONENTS" (back)" in a storage crate up in the attic somewhere.

One of the perks that came with the job was access to deep discounted audio gear, stuff that had either been discontinued, used as demo models, or experienced some minor cosmetic wear, and it wasn't long before everyone in our circle of family and friends were kitted out with H.H. Scott sound systems. Mine was the first big-ticket purchase I ever made in my thirteen years of life, and included a receiver, cassette deck, and two 40-watt speakers. I was too cheap to spring for a turntable at the time, which was foolish, but vinyl was already being seen as a dead, excessively care-intensive format. It was paid for via an installment plan, with cost (somewhere in the vicinity of a hundred bucks) deducted from my weekly allowance over a couple months.

The design of the components (which I still have a few packed away in storage) might appear quaint and retro by today's standards, what with the metallic faceplates, overuse of LED displays, and excessively tiny buttons (an over-reaction to the 70's standard outsized switches and knobs, I'd guess), but at the time I felt like I was on the cutting edge of home audio. (Well, apart from the lack of a CD player, but that technology was still in the early-adopter luxury phase.)

The act of sacrificing a significant portion of my weekly comics and videogame budget to acquire the system proved to be a decisive moment in terms of my listening habits. Previous to that, I had been a mostly passive music fan, mostly influenced by Top 40 radio (or video, technically, as programmed on V-66, a local UHF channel dedicated to music videos) and the inescapable hard rock/"ugly" metal fandom of my teenage peers. The music was just there, it wasn't anything I actively sought out, apart from the occasional must-have single or poorly-dubbed cassette copy of a "hot" LP made by a friend. (It's why I laugh about whines regarding the failings of digital formats; the sincerity of devotion inspired in my crowd by a muddy-sounding taped copy of Back in Black, complete with incidental household noise in the background, outstrips any of the professed, overly formalist appreciation by the audiosnob set.)

The problem was that I had pretty much outgrown my love of Ratt and Twisted Sister by my thirteenth summer, and as for the Top 40 charts...


...well, the less said, the better. (I did own a copy of Dire Straits' Brothers in Arms, though.) Now before anyone starts bringing up the quite wonderful "alternative" rock scene happening at the time, I'd like to point out that it's penetration into my little corner of blue collar suburbia was virtually nil. It was possible to catch the videos for "Let's Go to Bed" or "How Soon Is Now" on V-66 (Maura, three years older and hipper than I, has an old VHS tape with the station's airing of The Damned's "Is It A Dream" on it), they had a hard time registering on the conscious when one is living in an environment where the musical spectrum ran the gamut from classic rock to pop metal.

Plus, there was the fact that my purchasing power was relatively small at the time. Buying a new release meant hazarding the bulk of my allowance on an untried quantity more than likely to consist of 80% filler to 20% killer. The bargain and cutout bins, stuffed to the gills with cheapjack compilations and greatest hits albums plaster with "Super Saver" or "Nice Price" labels made for safer bets with better returns. I initially dived in with no genre leanings to speak of, picking up remaindered K-Tel comps (Chartaction '83! Featuring Adam Ant, Frieda, and After the Fire!), sell-through classic rock albums (Zep, Steppenwolf, Cream), and retro-oriented soundtracks.

It was a purchase in the latter category that marked the other half of my transfomation into an active audiophile, specifically The Blues Brothers soundtrack, which offered an outstanding selection of covers and rerecordings of classic soul and R&B cuts. As I've stated in a previous post, even if the Ackroyd/Belushi tracks are pale imitations of the original songs, the album nonetheless offers an unparalled roadmap for the uninitiated to discover the real deal. Even though I rarely listen to the album these days, it's influence in shaping my musical tastes was immense and continues to this day.

Yet, for all that, The Blues Brothers soundtrack isn't this week's "Album That Mattered." That honor goes to an album that would be my first purchase directly inspired by the 1980 film, in which it appeared onscreen and two songs from it were heard, but not represented on the OST. It also turned out to be a major fucking hassle to find a copy of it in the local music stores; though once I did score one, it would end up being the definitive BGM for the lion's share of my teenage years. That album is The Best of Sam & Dave, a slightly abridged compilation of the legendary soul duo's singles and b-sides released in early 1969. (The CD reissue includes the omitted tracks plus a few more.)

The 8-track cassette of the album is shown playing in the Bluesmobile's stereo during the sequence in the film featuring the fateful traffic stop and lead-up to the extravagantly destructive mall chase scene, providing enough time for substantial portions of both "Hold On, I'm Comin'" and "Soothe Me" to be heard in the background.

Including a nod to Sam & Dave in the film was a no-brainer, as they, more than any of the other artists paid homage to, were the direct inspiration for Jake & Elwood Blues -- a pair of male soul vocalists with different yet complementary styles and a penchant for high-energy stage performances. (Both outfits were also backed by a roster of Stax Records' house musicians, including members of Booker T & The MG's.) The seamless interplay between Sam Moore's intense "southern soul" vocal stylings with Dave Prater's more Motown-esque delivery is simply glorious to hear, whether in a velvet-smooth and dreamy slow jam or in a thumping, backbeat-and-horn-driven uptempo number, and the pair performed both styles equally well (which wasn't uncommon among 60's soul artists, actually).

While I did eventually pick up the remainder of Sam & Dave's 1960's discography (as well as complete compilations of 60's Stax/Atlantic soul and R&B singles) in the months and years following, it's The Best of Sam & Dave I always seem to return to whenever I feel the urge to hear some exceptionally sweet soul music (though in terms of individual tracks, nothing will ever surpass Eddie Floyd's "Knock on Wood). Unlike most things from my junior high school days, it has remained immune to the crippling associations of adolescent stupidity that force me to avert my gaze when I look back on that period of my life.

And, honestly, there's no higher praise I could bestow.

Sam & Dave - You Don't Know What You Mean to Me - Seriously, how can you not love this stuff? Dig that opening, too, which showcases the duo's gospel influences.

This was my original song choice for the anniversary tribute post, but I reconsidered after I realized that Maura in all likelihood does know what she means to me. At least, I hope she does.