Vinyl, CD & Tape 555 Items

Produced entirely by Norman Whitfield, The Temptations’s "Puzzle People" takes the next step along the path that Cloud Nine started, and takes the Detroit band further away from a classic soul sound, and more towards the realm of psychedelic soul. Although a few ballads, including “Running Away (Ain’t Gonna Help You),” are still present, the album is primarily composed of Sly & the Family Stone/James Brownderived proto-funk tracks such as the lead single “Don’t Let the Joneses Get You Down,” and the number-one Billboard Pop hit “I Can’t Get Next to You.” Also included are psychedelic-styled covers (recorded with distorted guitars, clavinets, and spacy reverb and sound effects) of contemporary songs such as The Isley Brothers’ “It’s Your Thing,” The Beatles’ “Hey Jude,” and Roger Miller’s “Little Green Apples.” "Puzzle People" was released on the same day (September 23, 1969) as "Together", a duets album of covers by The Temptations and label mates Diana Ross & the Supremes. It peaked into the Top 5 on the Billboard Pop Albums chart, and spent fifteen weeks at number one on the R&B Albums chart.

* Newly Remastered!* Ultra rare 1969 private press psych-folk-rock masterpiece – featuring the legendary Wrecking Crew (Beach Boys, Phil Spector) * Lacquers cut by John Golden Mastering * Plated at Record Technology Inc. (rti) * Includes deep booklet with liner notes by Andria Lisle, rare photos, archival materials and full lyrics (LP: 16-pgs, CD: 48-pgs) In March 1975, Jim Sullivan mysteriously disappeared outside Santa Rosa, New Mexico. His VW bug was found abandoned, his motel room untouched. Some think he got lost in the desert. Some think he fell foul of a local family with alleged mafia ties. Some think he was abducted by aliens.

By coincidence – or perhaps not – Jim’s 1969 debut album was titled U.F.O. Released in tiny numbers on a private label, it too was truly lost, until Seattle’s Light In The Attic Records begun a years-long quest to give it the full release it deserves – and to solve the mystery of Sullivan’s disappearance. Only one of those things happened.

For record collectors, some albums are considered impossible to get hold of, records so rare you could sit on eBay for years and not get a sniff of a copy. U.F.O. is one of those albums. A seventh son, Jim Sullivan was a West Coast should-have-been, an Irish-American former high school quarterback whose gift for storytelling earned him cult status in the Malibu bar where he performed nightly. Sullivan was always on the edge of fame; hanging out with movie stars like Harry Dean Stanton, performing on the Jose Feliciano show, even stealing a cameo in the ultimate hippie movie, Easy Rider.

Friend and actor Al Dobbs thought he could change all that, and founded a label – Monnie Records – to release Jim’s album, enlisting the assistance of Phil Spector’s legendary sessioneers The Wrecking Crew to do so. That’s Don Randi, Earl Palmer and Jimmy Bond you can hear, the latter also acting as producer and arranger.

U.F.O. was a different beast to the one-man-and-his-guitar stuff Jim had been doing on stage; instead, it was a fully realised album of scope and imagination, a folk-rock record with its head in the stratosphere. Sullivan’s voice is deep and expressive like Fred Neil with a weathered and worldly Americana sound like Joe South, pop songs that aren’t happy – but filled with despair. The album is punctuated with a string section (that recalls David Axelrod), other times a Wurlitzer piano provides the driving groove (as if Memphis great Jim Dickinson was running the show). U.F.O. is a slice of American pop music filtered from the murky depths of Los Angeles, by way of the deep south.

With no music industry contacts, the record went largely unnoticed, and Jim simply moved on, releasing a further album on the Playboy label in 1972. But by 1975, his marriage breaking up, Jim left, for Nashville and the promise of a new life as a sessioneer in the home of C&W. That’s where it gets hazy.

We know he was stopped by cops for swerving on the highway in Santa Rosa, some 15 hours after setting off. We know he was taken to a local police station, found to be sober, and told to go to the local La Mesa Motel to get some rest, which he did. Some time later, his car was spotted on a ranch belonging to the local Genetti family, who confronted him about his business there. The next day his car was found 26 miles down the road, abandoned. His car and his hotel room contained, among other things, his twelve-string guitar, his wallet, his clothes and several copies of his second album, but no note, and no Jim. It was as if he had simply vanished into thin air.

Jim’s family travelled out to join search parties looking for him, the local papers printed missing person stories, but the search proved fruitless. Around the same time, the local sheriff retired and the Genettis moved to Hawaii. Jim’s manager Robert “Buster” Ginter later stated that during the early morning hours of a long evening Jim and Buster were talking about what would you do if they had to disappear. Jim said he’d walk into the desert and never come back.

Tracking down the truth behind Jim’s mystery became an obsession of Light In The Attic’s Matt Sullivan (no relation) when he happened upon a copy of the album and fell in love. He took on a cross country pilgrimage in search of master tapes and truth, and came back with neither, despite hundreds of phone calls, e-mails, letters, faxes, private detectives, telepathy, palm readings and meetings with Jim’s wife, son and producer. Thanks to superb digital mastering techniques, Light In The Attic is still able to present a clean, near perfect copy of Jim’s masterpiece for general consumption for the first time. Enjoy. And remember, beyond the mystery, there’s the music.

Limited to 2000 copies.

Art Blakey's "Live In '65" boasts an exceptional one-hour concert from Paris in 1965. This performance showcases one of the few undocumented Blakey bands, the New Jazzmen, featuring Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Jaki Byard on piano, Reggie Workman on bass, Nathan Davis on sax, and, of course, Blakey on drums.

Freddie Hubbard's incendiary playing on "Blue Moon" and the blistering 24-minute version of his own "Crisis" shows that he was one of the most innovative trumpeters in jazz history.

On this live session, the audiences seem to have been enthusiastic and appreciative. »Everywhere we’d go people would say, this is the best Jazz Messengers we’ve heard!«, according to Davis. »And because of the way Jaki would play and Reggie would go, it was like a semi-freedom thing – with Messengers heads, you know, but when we got to soloing...! And Blakey was ridin’ and oatin’ the time ... but he would always be loose enough to follow, to keep it going. He’s one helluva musician.«

Why you'll love it...
During the pagan hours of an otherwise uneventful Harlem pre-dawn in 1963, Gary Bartz glimpsed a galactic mystery that conventional aeronautics could not explain. Only a few weeks prior, the nascent alto saxophone virtuoso had acquired his first telescope to pursue a newfound passion for astronomy. The purchase was already yielding dividends.

The recent Juilliard graduate’s fascination with the heavens began with astrology, but the then 22-year-old quickly realized that those celestial sketches were just photographs of the sky as captured during a specific orbit. Why bother with the rough blueprint when you could witness the entire electromagnetic spectrum in its full glory?

Why you'll love it...
Let’s start with the scream. We tend to define our singers by how “great” their voice is, how deftly they can ascend and descend major and minor scales, and how they can turn up and turn down the emotion inherent in their voices. But when considering Wilson Pickett, it begins and ends with his scream. He could take you on a journey, he could butter you up, he could make you feel things in your vital organs, but you don’t get a nickname like “Wicked Pickett” because you’re a crooner.

Pickett’s “Hey Jude” forms the spiritual centerpiece and title track of hisfinal trip up to the mountain-top, his last true masterpiece LP. He’d take forays to Philadelphia for the new sound of soul, and even go vaguely disco in the late ’70s. But for his final album of the ’60s, a decade where he dominated the soul charts, he’d unwittingly help start southern rock, and scream his way across one of the most recognizable tunes in the history of song. Not bad for 31 minutes and eight seconds worth of music.