Please excuse the sound quality; this file was converted from a nearly twenty-year-old cassette that had been dubbed off of a flexi-disc. The Garden Path were an interesting footnote in the mid-80s explosion of cool Australian bands, a little bit loud guitar pop, a little bit psychedelic, a little bit garage. I'm currently in the process of tracking down their Greasy Pop LPs. If memory serves there was also a spinoff thing by the name of the Dust Collection, but I could be making that up. This song would be on my A-list of tracks for a CD compilation of the best stuff from the Bob flexi-discs, along with R.E.M.'s version of "Femme Fatale," Robyn Hitchcock's "Surgery," and the Feelies' awesome cover of "Dancing Barefoot."

Both sides of this Oklahoma 45 are great, so it was hard to pick one. Very little information afforded by the sleeve, other than they appear to have been a three piece. Insert shows band looking like fairly typical purveyors of skinny-tie pop, perhaps a bit like fellow Okies 20/20 whose relatively modest success the Jacks would probably been grateful to duplicate. Currently kind of pricey as these things go, as it is a fairly recent discovery of the collecting fraternity and is of very high quality.

Lois Maffeo is a national treasure, and the three 7"s she made with Patrick Maley (drummer and YoYo Studio guy) under the name Courtney Love (two on K, One on Feel Good All Over) are all to be prized. (Someone really ought to round them up on a CD.) Her peculiar haunting melodic sense and beautiful wordplay have touched us many times, but this song is probably our favorite.

No relation to that other Courtney Love, that one whose band sounded like Sonic Youth until grunge took over and she realized she'd hopped on the wrong carousel. The one who represented the very apex of alternarock self-absorption with "Doll Parts." The one who sold millions of records and landed a spot on Spin's "Top 100 Alternative Albums" list. The one who was so traumatized by the death of her husband that she no longer appears to be able to write songs. The one who at present amounts to nothing except a punchline of a joke that is now more pathetic than funny.

I was blasting this in the car on the way to school, and it reminded me that it really needs to be on Little Hits. In another instance of horrible timing, this brilliant 45 came out during the period when there was an absolute glut of 7-inch discs by bands wanting to be the next Pavement or Stereolab (both great bands, but one of each is probably enough) or Sebadoh or Slint (one of each is about 50% too many). Perhaps that's why it was unceremoniously dumped at the used record shop by the kid from the college radio station. This would be a terrific record just on the strength of it's melody and chorus hook. What really pushes it over the top are some very finely wrought lyrics with considerable humor and admirable attention to detail.

"My Danger" was written by one Tom Beaujour; I don't know much about him, but I can divulge that his bass-playing/singing/songwriting comrade, Mr. Marcelo Romero, spent some time in the Wishniaks. But that is a story we will tell later. Shake Appeal also have a full-length CD on Go-Kart called You're Too Rich. Meanwhile, copies of this very single are available on the Deep Elm website for a buck. Think I'm gonna order another handful.

I just wanted to make a quick post to tell all of you who have left comments how much I enjoy it, and to encourage everyone to feel free to throw their two cents in any time they'd like.

Best wishes,

Jon

Folks who live for that UK powerpop sound as featured on the Shake Some Action series of CD compilations absolutely lose their composure over the Tours "Language School" 45. And it is indeed a great record. But, man, this one's awfully good too. I have a suspicion that we haven't heard the last of vocalist/singer Ronnie Mayor on Little Hits...

BTW, I would highly recommend the Shake Some Action CDs, especially the UK volumes, to our visitors who liked our selections by the Donkeys, Dazzlers, Tonight, etc. Does anyone know where to find track listings for those discs online?

Shamrock J. says that the vocals on this song are just about the punkest thing he can think of, and we appreciate what he means. Tuff and teenage. At Little Hits we have a special place in our hearts and on the stereo for that particular breed of 60s teenagers who had cheap gear and a sneering lead singer, but still carefully rehearsed their three-part harmonies. The Intruders were from Pittsfield IL and managed just the one disc before psychedelia kicked in and they were forced to change their name to something ridiculous (not The Something Ridiculous). The scan is from the late 90s re-issue on MCCM records; they also did a re-ish of one of the all time fuzz monsters, Gonn's "Blackout Of Gretely," which must be heard on Rhino's Nuggets Box. This was one of a very, very small percentage of garage 45s that was originally issued in a pic sleeve.

It's hard to imagine now how profoundly R.E.M. shook the indie world in the early-to-mid 80s. After Murmur it seemed that college students all over the US instantly formed hundreds of bands with thin, trebly guitars and vocals mumbled and slurred to the point where one couldn't make out how precious the lyrics were. Many of them found their way into a recording studio with either Don Dixon or Mitch Easter. Bands like One Plus Two, the Connells, Turning Curious, Blue TV, Kilkenny Cats, and Dreams So Real all made pleasant but generally insubstantial contributions to the racks of well-intentioned indie stores, and I should know because I bought all of them. Unfortunately the proliferation of this very derivative style caused some fine bands who had one or two things in common with Stipe and friends to be tarred with the R.E.M.-alike brush by lazy fanzine writers.

Since they were form the South, occasionally made use of Rickenbacker guitars, and worked with Mitch Easter, The Windbreakers were often dismissed as one of these imitators. This was absolute blasphemy. The Windbreakers were a fine southern pop band in the tradition of Big Star and the dB's with two great songwriters: Bobby Sutliff, whose swoony melodies and aching upper register recalled Chris Bell, and his partner Tim Lee, who played a world-weary everyman character not too far from Peter Holsapple at his most conversational. After a half-baked 7" EP in a fairly standard new-wave/skinny tie pop vein they lost a couple of band members and made their first great record in 1983, a 12", 6-song EP called "Any Monkey With a Typewriter." Many others were to follow; solo LPs and Windbreakers LPs, and even solo LPs made as the Windbreakers. (1987's A Different Sort is the work of Tim Lee without Mr. Sutliff.) Run, the album from whence we get "Visa Cards..." is perhaps their best. This track gives you some idea of the glorious range of psychedelic guitar sounds they could conjure up; their heartbreak came in bright colors.

Bobby Sutliff is scheduled to have a new album this year on Not Lame; tracks I've heard suggest that it might be the most winsome collection of his career, with a gorgeous version of the Carter Family's "The Storms Are On the Ocean" providing a highlight.