I'm Glad I Lost My Heart In Sydney - Sandy Scott with Edwin Harrison and His Orchestra (1969)

To follow on from my last post on the brilliant A Place To Stand, a song extolling the virtues of Ontario, here’s a track a little closer to home. I’m Glad I Lost My Heart In Sydney is a charmer of a song with a musical theatre swing and a few local references to keep the New South Welshmen happy. The vocals are by Aussie crooner Sandy Scott, who was huge in the sixties and seventies. The b-side is an instrumental version, showcasing the talents of Edwin Harrison and his Orchestra. I can find very little information about this single and the people involved, but it’s a nicely done piece of late-sixties Australiana. 

Lest you think I’m not bringing you the quality music you’ve come to expect, fear not: this song is award winning! According to the information on the disc, this song, written by one Freddie Morgan, was the winner of Sydney radio station 2GB’s International Song Competition. If any one has any information on this tune, let me know in the comments.

Label: ATA Records (Distributed by Festival)

Released: 1969

Players: Sandy Scott - vocals

Edwin Harrison and His Orchestra - music

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A Place To Stand (Ontar-i-ar-i-ar-i-o) - Dolores Claman (1967)

Despite its unsurprising popularity in Canada, I suspect that few non-hosers are familiar with this charming geographical pop oddity from 1967. This EP is the soundtrack to an Oscar winning short film intended to promote the Canadian province of Ontario, first shown at Expo 67. "So popular has this music become that a demand arose for an original sound track recording, in stereo", the liner notes inform us. 

It begins with a concise vocal version of the song - a jaunty, catchy melody sung with hearty enthusiasm by a chorus of female and male singers. I have unashamedly loved this song from the moment I heard it. It has all the elements of a great pop song and I wholeheartedly suggest incorporating this track into mixes for a bit of unexpected flavour, like adding a dash of fine maple syrup to a meal. The remainder of the EP is taken up by the actual soundtrack to the film, in two parts. These two tracks contain some great material occasionally evoking jazz, Gershwin, SMiLE-era Brian Wilson and general late-sixties soundtrackery.

The song and the soundtrack were written by Dolores Claman who is the subject of some veneration in her home country due to having penned, not only this unofficial anthem, but also the theme to Hockey Night In Canada. In partnership with her husband and lyricist Richard Morris, she composed over 3000 commercial jingles over a 30 year period.

Label: RCA Victor
Released: 1967
Players: Dolores Claman - composer
Richard Morris - lyrics
Jerry Toth - arranger
Rudy Toth - conducter
Larry Trudel - French lyrics

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Seasons Of Love - Gerard Kennedy/Sven Libaek (1972)

I first saw this album on the old Votary Records trades page, listed as ‘for Libaek completists only’. It’s a fair assessment of this LP - Libaek merely provides accompaniment for Australian seventies television star Gerard Kennedy as he recites Rod McKuen-style poetry over a smooth jazz backing. It may be instructive to focus on the music and the poetry separately:

THE MUSIC, BY SVEN LIBAEK. Sven’s compositions on the LP are quite good, if a little innocuous (it is intended as background music after all). There are some great moments though, which is not surprising as this was recorded right in the middle of Libaek’s golden era - he would go on to record the soundtrack for Inner Space a year after this release. None of the musicians are credited, but I am pretty confident that the usual suspects are playing on this record: George Golla on guitar, Don Burrows on flutes, John Sangster on vibes and percussion and so on. Many tracks also feature the addition of string sections which tends to bring out great stuff from Sven. The frustrating thing is that there are very few moments on the LP where the music is brought to the forefront and given a chance to be heard. Autumn is one such track, where we get a chance to hear haunting flute lines cycle over orchestral strings with a cool jazz underpinning from the rhythm players. The twin, harmonising sax lines bookending Spring are another lovely touch. A few themes are repeated and developed over a couple of tracks which adds some depth, and was not something that Sven usually did. But unfortunately, any moments of Libaek goodness invariably get interrupted by Gerard Kennedy’s awkward, artless spoken word.

THE POETRY, BY GERARD KENNEDY. Let me be blunt; the poetry on this record is bad. Really bad. Really, really bad. I think I could state without risk of hyperbole that this is the worst poetry I have ever heard. Gerard affects a bad boy, outsider persona for the poetry, but also injects a strange sort of cutesiness that, while not necessarily at odds with the material, fills me with an intense sort of simultaneous rage and embarrassment. Embarragement?

Throughout Seasons Of Love, Kennedy’s turn of phrase is embarrassingly unselfconscious and pretentious - I could pick almost any line from the album to illustrate this, here’s a random sample: ‘[Let’s] put up a maze of love with walls a thousand thoughts thick’ from I Think I’ll Build A Wall or “You moved [...] proud and graceful like a young gazelle picking her way through the forest.” from The Quiet Time Of Reason. There are really only two themes that are touched upon in the poems (if I was being kind, I’d call it consistency): Gerard describing how he is an outsider (Travel Broadens The Mind, I Am An Island) or musings on wanting to find love, but being too much of a free-thinking bohemian to be able to love just one woman (all the other tracks). Gerard is always alone, even in a crowd. The rain is his brother, and the wind is his friend.

Of course, Kennedy can’t be blamed for the abysmal standard of the poetry because despite the strongly personal nature of the verse, he didn’t actually write it. The poetry itself is credited to one Warwick Randall. One website I read even suggested that ‘Warwick Randall’ was a pseudonym for Kennedy, but from what I can ascertain, Randall is a real person. He has a couple of books of poetry to his name, is credited as working with Kennedy on a number of television shows and wrote for Melbourne broadsheet The Age in the early eighties. 

The fact that Kennedy didn’t even write the words that he delivers with such hammy enthusiasm only adds to the weirdness of this record. Did Kennedy recognise his limitations as a poet and outsource the job? Did he think that his friend was a criminally under appreciated poet and wanted to bring his work to a wider audience? Perhaps Gerard just wanted to portray himself as a tough yet arty nonconformist but didn’t actually have the poetic skills required for an LP of this nature and so turned to a lesser known, but confident poet whom he happened to know through work? I have so many questions about the execution and production of this LP, but I suspect that everyone involved with Seasons Of Love instantly forgot about it soon after it was released.

...And yet, I keep listening to this LP. I tend to eschew the ‘so bad it’s good’ school of music appreciation (I prefer music that’s ‘so good it’s good’) but there’s something about Seasons Of Love that keeps me coming back. There’s something mesmerising about this seventies wannabe alternative pin-up boy effusing cringe-inducing poetry (that he didn’t even write) over a backdrop of sweet, smooth jazz from a composer who was at the top of his game and probably wrote this material in his sleep. If nothing else, it’s a fascinating cultural artifact - when, where, could this have ever been considered cool?

Label: Festival

Released: 1972

Players: Gerard Kennedy - spoken word

Sven Libaek - composer, arranger

Musicians uncredited.

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Wives & Lovers - George Golla (1968/70)

George Golla has played on countless records accompanying Don Burrows, Sven Libaek, John Sangster et al, but he very infrequently released LPs under his own name and own direction. This is one of those records, and it’s a nice one. Wives & Lovers is a crowd-pleasing set of standards, Beatles covers and Brazillian bossa. I recall seeing a live LP of Golla and his band which was recorded at a popular pancake eatery in Sydney - I imagine this is exactly the kind of set they would playing, one that would ensure that the punters were hearing something they were familiar with or at least something that was engaging on first listen. Only one piece, Waltz To Adelaide, is a Golla original and it’s a damn shame that there aren’t more on this record because it’s the album's standout for me - a Libaek-esque waltz with nice dynamic changes and great work from the horn section. In fact, it’s as good as Libaek’s best, and the way that it is arranged and executed as a complete, concise song actually exceeds most of Sven’s work in this regard. 

Of the two Beatles covers, Day Tripper probably wouldn’t sound out of place on an album of novelty easy-listening covers, but it’s pleasant enough. Fool On The Hill is quite an interesting interpretation of this song and reimagines it as an odd shuffle with a sort of weird sense of unease in the chorus. The standards are pretty standard, although Wives and Lovers is great, and the Brazilian stuff on side two is good, but still feeling a bit safe and diluted for a popular audience. Overall, a lovely late-sixties Oz jazz album with some unevenness in the quality, but worth it for Golla’s Waltz To Adelaide and a few others.

Label: Festival
Released: Sleeve says 1970, disc says 1968.
Players: George Golla - guitar
Don Burrows - flute, alto flute, alto sax
Errol Buddle - bassoon, tenor sax
Pete Haslum - trombone
John Sangster - vibes, percussion
Derek Fairbrass - drums
Ed Gaston - bass (credited on the back as ‘Ed Faston’ - no respect at all.)
George Thompson - bass

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Peaceful - John Sangster (1980)

This is the sort of music that ideally should be listened to while sitting on a pristine Australian beach with a beer, maybe enjoying a cheeky Winnie blue (or some of Australia's other well-loved herbal produce) while listening to the native birds calling in the coastal scrub. I'm a little surprised, in fact, that Sangster didn't incorporate field recordings of birdsong or other native bioacoustics into this LP as he has with so many of his others. (Especially with titles like 'Reed-warbler Song').

This set is quite consistent in its instrumentation, comprising acoustic guitar, vibes and other melodic percussion instruments, smooth sax and flute. Overall the LP is reminiscent of the quieter sections of Sangster's fantastic Australia And All That Jazz records. The relatively straightforward arrangements and breezy exotica feel also evoke the vibe of John Zorn pieces like The Gift.

This record is an artefact of late 20th century Oz exotica which evolved from an appreciation of Australia as something of a tropical paradise. (See Sangster's own aptly titled Paradise for an excellent example of this cultural phenomenon). And unlike the unobtainable island fantasies of the original American exotica wave of the late fifties, this was a paradise that was easily accessible to any Australian with a bit of time, a serviceable caravan and a desire to seek out their own Antipodean Eden. Sangster clearly loved to view Australia in this way. In a country that is often ashamed of celebrating it's own 'Australianess', Sangster's music stands out as an unabashed statement of what makes it worth celebrating.

Label: Rain-Forest

Released: 1980

Players: Errol Buddle - tenor saxophone

Mal Cunningham - flutes

Terry Walker - acoustic guitar

Tony Ansell - electric piano

John Sangster - vibraphone, marimba and percussion

Ian Bloxsom - percussion

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Expanse - Andrew Richardson (1984)

Let me be succinct - this album is awesome. Picture this: a synth-heavy, flute-heavy, proggy concept album "inspired by the vast Australian Outback and Aboriginal Dreamtime stories that originated there". The musician responsible for this 'ballet' as it is described on the back cover is flautist Andrew Richardson, who seems to have been active in Melbourne in the eighties, but on whom I can find little information or context. I found a single of his called Sally/Dive a while ago at the same op-shop as I found this LP, but it didn't even hint at the greatness of which this man was capable.

Although the album only features two musicians, Richardson on flutes and Ian Eccles-Smith on keyboards, this is a full-sounding album with plenty of variation and dynamic range. Falling stylistically somewhere between Vangelis's eighties albums and a documentary soundtrack of a similar age, there are lots of ephemeral flutes, noisy synths and the occasional field recording of indigenous singing and percussion. Although it could be a little ambient (or god forbid "new age-y") for some listeners, there are some very strong, melodically driven tracks which are the definite highlights for me. The first such track is Tiddalik - The Frog which opens with the synth laying down a whimsical motif in 4/4 and then segues into a gorgeous, baroque waltz section lead by Richardson's flute - all the while augmented by deep, synth "croaks" representing the titular amphibian. The album closes with Brolga which is another lush waltz allowing Richardson to harmonise multiple haunting flute lines over some very effective synth bass.

This may just be due to my idiosyncratic musical tastes, but this LP represents a real lost gem to me and I urge you to have a listen if this sounds like your kind of thing.

EDIT: You may notice that keyboardist Ian Eccles-Smith says hello in the comments of this post and recommends his album Apsilene. I have just written a post on this piece and also conducted an email interview with Ian which you can read here. 

EDIT, 29/08/2019: I've just seen that Richardson, who now goes by 'Howlin' Wind', has uploaded a bunch of his stuff to Bandcamp. Including Expanse. I have removed the download link from this post, and encourage you to purchase this album from Howlin' directly.



Label: A.R.M.
Released: 1984
Players: Andrew Richardson - flutes
Ian Eccles-Smith - keyboards
(Richardson and Smith also arranged, produced and engineered the album.)

The Australian Ark - Derek Strahan (1970)

If I had to name an all-time favourite genre it would be nature documentary soundtracks - particularly if they're Australian and from the sixties or seventies. Admittedly, it's a fairly limited genre, so at this point, finding a new one (new to me, anyway) is pretty exciting. While doing a little wandering on the internet, I found the soundtrack to Shell's Australia; a thirteen part series by Robert Raymond documenting the natural history of Australia which originally aired in the early seventies. The soundtrack, titled The Australian Ark, was composed by Derek Strahan during 1969-70 and features the talents of a number of Oz jazz players including John Sangster and Derek Fairbrass. I've only been listening to it since I obtained it this morning, but from my initial impressions, it sounds really, really good. The inclusion of Sangster on percussion lends the soundtrack a very similar feel to Sangster's own soundtrack works and also the celebrated soundtracks of Sven Libaek. I don't have a rip of this album - it was never released on vinyl, although a cassette tape was released by Strahan in 1980 - but the whole thing can be purchased on CD or mp3 from CD Baby. Strahan seems to release all his music independently, so purchasing this album will directly support this Australian composer and his fine work.

If you want to hear some of the music in context, there are a couple of videos of the original documentary available at the National Film and Sound Archive's australianscreen site.