Before long, firefighters switched tactics, using bulldozers to knock down the burning warehouse and clear away barriers to extinguishing the fire, including the remains of the UMG archive: rows of metal shelving and reels of tape, reduced to heaps of ash and twisted steel.
Heavy machinery was still at work dismantling the building as night fell. The job was finished in the early morning of June 2, nearly 24 hours after the first flames appeared. The fire made news around the world, and the destruction of the video vault featured prominently in the coverage. But nearly all news outlets characterized the vault fire as a close call, in which worst cases were averted.
But journalists moved on from the story, and there has never been a full accounting of film and video losses in the fire. The confusion was understandable.
Universal Studios Hollywood was a movie backlot, not a record-company headquarters. One of the few journalists to note the existence of the UMG archive was Nikki Finke, the entertainment-industry blogger and gadfly.
In a Deadline. A majority of what was formerly stored there was moved earlier this year to our other facilities. Of the small amount that was still there and waiting to be moved, it had already been digitized so the music will still be around for many years to come. These reassuring pronouncements concealed a catastrophe. When Randy Aronson stood outside the burning warehouse on June 1, he knew he was witnessing a historic event. A master is a one-of-a-kind artifact, the irreplaceable primary source of a piece of recorded music.
According to UMG documents, the vault held analog tape masters dating back as far as the late s, as well as digital masters of more recent vintage. And it held session masters, recordings that were never commercially released. UMG maintained additional tape libraries across the United States and around the world. There were recordings from dozens of record companies that had been absorbed by Universal over the years, including several of the most important labels of all time.
The vault housed tape masters for Decca, the pop, jazz and classical powerhouse; it housed master tapes for the storied blues label Chess; it housed masters for Impulse, the groundbreaking jazz label. And it held masters for a host of smaller subsidiary labels. Nearly all of these masters — in some cases, the complete discographies of entire record labels — were wiped out in the fire.
The scope of this calamity is laid out in litigation and company documents, thousands of pages of depositions and internal UMG files that I obtained while researching this article. The monetary value of this loss is difficult to calculate. But in historical terms, the dimension of the catastrophe is staggering. It cannot be said exactly how many recordings were original masters or what type of master each recording was.
Also very likely lost were master tapes of the first commercially released material by Aretha Franklin, recorded when she was a young teenager performing in the church services of her father, the Rev. Franklin, who made dozens of albums for Chess and its sublabels. Then there are masters for largely forgotten artists that were stored in the vault: tens of thousands of gospel, blues, jazz, country, soul, disco, pop, easy listening, classical, comedy and spoken-word records that may now exist only as written entries in discographies.
Last year, Vivendi announced a plan to sell up to 50 percent of UMG. The sale is the talk of the music business; rumored potential buyers include Apple, Amazon and the Chinese conglomerate Alibaba.
The vault fire was not, as UMG suggested, a minor mishap, a matter of a few tapes stuck in a musty warehouse. It was the biggest disaster in the history of the music business. The recordings that burned up in the Universal fire — like the songs that are blasting from car windows on the street outside your home, like all the records that you or I or anyone else has ever heard — represent a wonderment that we have come to take for granted.
For most of human history, every word spoken, every song sung, was by definition ephemeral: Air vibrated and sound traveled in and out of earshot, never to be heard again. The act of listening again has defined music culture for a century.
It is also the basis of the multibillion-dollar record industry. Today a stupefying bounty of recordings is available on streaming audio services, floating free of the CDs, LPs and other delivery systems that once brought them to audiences.
The metaphors we use to describe this mass of digitized sound bespeak our almost mystical sense that recorded music has dematerialized and slipped the bonds of earth. The Cloud. The Celestial Jukebox. Something close to the entire history of music hovers in the ether, waiting to be summoned into our earbuds by a tap on a touch-screen.
This is the utopian tale we tell ourselves, at least. In fact, vast gaps remain between the historical corpus of recorded music and that which has been digitized.
Gerald Seligman, executive director of the National Recording Preservation Foundation, a nonprofit organization affiliated with the Library of Congress, estimated in that less than 18 percent of commercial music archives had been transferred and made available through streaming and download services.
That figure underscores a misapprehension: the assumption that the physical relics of recorded sound are obsolete and expendable. The objects in question are master recordings: millions of reels of magnetic tape, stored in libraries like the one that occupied the backlot vault.
These archives hold other masters of various vintages: the lacquer, glass and metal masters that predated tape, and disk drives and digital tapes from the past few decades. It is sonic fidelity, first and foremost, that defines the importance of masters. Every copy thereafter is a sonic step away. This is not an academic point. A Spotify listener who clicks on a favorite old song may hear a file in a compressed audio format called Ogg Vorbis.
Audiophiles complain that the digital era, with its rampant copy-paste ethos and jumble of old and new formats, is an age of debased sound: lossy audio files created from nth-generation transfers; cheap vinyl reissues, marketed to analog-fetishists but pressed up from sludgy non-analog sources. The remedy is straightforward: You go back to the master.
This is one reason that rereleases of classic albums are promoted as having been painstakingly remastered from the original tapes. Right now, sound-savvy consumers are taking the next leap forward into high-resolution audio, which can deliver streaming music of unprecedented depth and detail.
You have to return to the master and recapture it at a higher bit rate. But the case for masters extends beyond arguments about bit depth and frequency ranges audible only to dogs. It enters the realms of aesthetics and phenomenology. Simply put, the master of a recording is that recording; it is the thing itself.
It holds the ineffable essence that can only truly be apprehended when you encounter a work of art up-close and unmediated, or as up-close and unmediated as the peculiar medium of recorded sound permits. The comparison to paintings is instructive. With a painting, our task as cultural stewards is to hang the thing properly, to keep it away from direct sunlight, to guard it from thieves.
A painting must be maintained and preserved, but only in rare cases will a technological intervention improve our ability to see the artwork. If you were to stand before the Mona Lisa in an uncrowded gallery, you would be taking in the painting under more or less ideal circumstances.
You will not get a better view. In the case of a recording, a better view is possible. The reason is a technological time lag: For years, what people were able to record was of greater quality than what they were able to play back. The process of revisiting and decoding can transfigure the most familiar music.
These epiphanies would not have been possible without masters. The tapes themselves feature additional recordings — alternate versions, overdubs, studio chatter — that were included on the rerelease. But the masters in the London archive are unique. They have more documentation than any version anywhere. And the Were Gonna Move - Masters At Work - Power House (Vinyl) contain more Beatles music too.
The same is surely true of many masters destroyed in the Universal fire. John Coltrane and Patsy Cline music has not vanished from the earth; right now you can use a streaming service to listen to Coltrane and Cline records whose masters burned on the backlot.
But those masters still represent an irretrievable loss. When the tapes disappeared, so did the possibility of sonic revelations that could come from access to the original recordings. Information that was logged on or in the tape boxes is gone. And so are any extra recordings those masters may have contained — music that may not have been heard by anyone since it was put on tape.
They are corporate assets. Inmost commercial recordings from the past century-plus are controlled by three gigantic record companies: UMG, Sony and Warner Music Group. But they are also the warehousers of millions of cumbersome master recordings.
That task is expensive and complex, and if the past is an indication, it may be a job for which record companies are ill suited. A woman dressed head to toe in latex stands behind him, a small whip held in her hand. The woman trails the tip of the whip over his bare skin, gently and the man twitches at the touch.
Loud enough John can make the words out clearly. His voice sounds raw and thick and John glances over to Abigail, who is watching him more than the display. She cocks an eyebrow and he swallows, turns back to watch. The man grunts and sways. The whip comes down again and he cries out, sounding as if something has been wrenched out of him. The woman is at his side in a moment, petting his torso and his hair, murmuring praise as she unshackles his arms. He sags into her and she draws him with her to a nearby bench, allowing him to curl up half in her lap.
Sean is sat at one end talking to a busty blond woman and he perks up at their arrival. Karen just shakes her head and walks to the other end of the bar to help someone there. Not poor little Sean? John makes another of those incoherent noises that seem to be coming out a lot that evening. I thought she was gonna eat you alive when she first laid eyes on ya.
Enjoying yourself? I bring you here, hook you up with the hottest girl in da place and you hate me? What cruelty! He goes willingly, lets her maneuver him as she pleases. She leads them into a different area of partitions, bringing him to a stop in front of a group of three, two men and a woman.
One of the men is tied, face up on what looks like a weightlifting bench. His arms are cuffed above his head with thick leather manacles and his legs are tied to either side of the bench with similar bands, his knees bent and legs splayed. The woman is kissing him while the man trails something that looks like a wheel with tiny spikes on it up his side and over his nipples.
He twitches and moans with each pass, cock leaking against his stomach. His breath is erratic, panting as he tries to arch away from the wheel. John is pretty sure he actually whimpers at the idea, shifting helplessly to try and relieve the pressure on his dick. John manages to shake his head in the negative. Suddenly he really wants to remedy that.
A single pearl of white beads up at the head and rolls down the shaft and John thinks he might be in danger of coming in his own pants, completely untouched.
The man has some kind of whip-like thing in his hand now — a handle with dozens of strips of leather tailing off of it. The flogger makes Were Gonna Move - Masters At Work - Power House (Vinyl) way down his body again, slowly, and John sees the woman unclipping the tether from his balls as Were Gonna Move - Masters At Work - Power House (Vinyl) moves downward… downward….
Abigail is a surprisingly strong support against him, her lips brushing over his collarbone as he sags against her. Abigail groans when she finally gets home, tossing her keys into the bowl next to the door and knocking her head back against the cool wood.
She fishes her cellphone from her pocket and taps the first name in her favorites list, opening the messenger app. That done, she toes off her shoes and drags herself into the house, not bothering to turn on any lights until she reaches the bedroom.
The bed is a welcome nest of fluffy pillows and a rumpled duvet and she flops back onto it and fishes out her earbuds just as her phone rings. The denim is damp and uncomfortable, and she thumbs at the buttons of the shorts, ready to be free of them. Like if someone had carved up my very own wet dream… all long limbs and his waist. Oh my god. Those so broad shoulders tapering down to that almost feminine waist.
She can certainly imagine the picture he must make, splayed out on some bright white hotel bed, his clothes a dark line against the stark sheets. The dark shirt will frame his torso so nicely, pulling open to reveal that wide chest and the dusting of fur that runs down his belly. He always gets worked up so fast too — she can imagine the bulge already straining those dark jeans, pressing the fabric taut over his hips. No doubt palming himself without permission.
He groans in response, and she dips a finger under her own underwear, gently playing over the moist skin there. He was the prettiest thing ever — tall. I think he might have been taller than you, baby, with long black hair and these gorgeous steely grey eyes.
He told me himself. I was a good girl though, I only wrapped a hand around his waist near the end there. His hands are so much bigger than hers. He barely looked at Mary-Beth and she Were Gonna Move - Masters At Work - Power House (Vinyl) in that whole latex catsuit get-up and everything.
When she turns on the vibrator the buzz is loud enough that Arthur must be able to hear it because he lets out a growl that rockets down her spine. Wanting to get this story out fully so he can appreciate it with her. The sound of skin on skin is faster in her ear as she runs the vibrator over her clit, dancing it away again before it can overwhelm her. I actually caught him give a couple of little helpless thrusts against nothing watching them. The orgasm is hard, shaking her core and clenching up through her abs, pulsing over and over.
They lay there together, breathing in time with one another as they both catch their breath. Eventually, she can hear him rising on the other end of the line, the sound of running water as he cleans himself up. Especially at first. And never without the other there as well. Kinda want to meet the fella that can do that to you. Arthur can probably guess that anyway, the bastard. I can hear you thinking dirty things, Abigail.
Followed quickly by: Is it okay if I ask you about this? Well this grew legs and walked off somewhere. I set out to write more phone sex and ended up with 6k of pining and just a little bit of porn. See the end of the chapter for more notes. Abigail is trying to drag a massive box of floggers and other leather goods across the warehouse floor when she gets the text message. Get to watch his kinky sexual awakening. All those expectations tend to lead to performances, and then she has to spend forever explaining that porn is not real life.
As far as figuring out what you like — you have to experiment a bit. Abigail is probably the poster girl for that. Arthur positively oozes Toppy vibes. When he walks into a room everyone turns to look. She had turned to look. There had been a St. She is undoubtedly not the first person to mistake empathy with a Sub for a want to be in their shoes instead of the one drawing those things out of them.
Do NOT interrupt me for anything short of the apocalypse! She leaves the box of leather goods in the middle of the floor and heads into the office before she texts back. She bites her lip and rubs her legs together at that image. Or wearing. But if you want to do more I am very open to that. Have you tried anything? A finger maybe? Go back to that night — do you picture yourself as the man tied to the bench or the man that was working him over? She remembers back to teasing him. But I think if it was you doing it that would be… extra good?
Kept from having an orgasm? He lets out a little strangled sound. Would you like that? To be punished if you try and take your own pleasure without permission? Some people really love it, and others just want the control aspects.
It looked like it was really painful but afterward… I dunno. So I just want you to know that going in. It would be worse to string him along if this is an issue though. She knows it. She hates it, but she knows it.
So you can experiment yourself? A few things I think you might like. Over near the warehouse district? I can leave you something at the desk. Just ask whoever is there. Why the hell not? What the hell. I thought we might meet up but. Sean makes grabby hands at the bottle when he goes back to the living room, deciding to sit on his ratty old rocking chair instead of joining the other man on the couch.
John must look skeptical at that because the younger man leans forward and pokes him in the chest with the cold bottle in his hand. You wanna try dating her? Go for it! John thinks back to the conversation. And then she offered to put me together like I dunno a kind of kinky care package or something to.
Abigail has the best toys, what was in it? Is it here? I wanna see what she picked! Well, come, on then boyo! I think they're just looking for a reason to say they're offended. They completely take everything out of context. It's so insincere, this faux outrage. Since its formation, the band has gone through a few line-up changes, with Joe Queer as the only constant member. The Queers continue to actively tour and a new record is in the works.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. American punk rock band. This article needs additional citations for verification. Please help improve this article by adding citations to reliable sources. Unsourced material may be challenged and removed. The Queers live at Revolution in Ft. Lauderdale, FL - June 11, Photo by Chuck Livid. Punk rock pop punk   . Asian Man Hopeless. Retrieved March 27, Retrieved Pensacola News Journal. Retrieved 20 September Portland, Oregon: Microcosm Publishing.
ISBN Garland, Texas: Selfless Records. This is one really cool tune, saturated in that quality that demands you to play it again and again. Two top tunes offered here with flawless vinyl and perfect labels, an elusive offering indeed. Condition Report Two clean labels, 4 prong centre intact. Another highly desirable Skinhead Reggae anthem.
This copy through fell prey to those Reggae DJ's who like to keep their choice plays a secret. Flipside artist credit has been crudely scored across, title is still intact see image a-side label is clean some very mild storage rub see images.
The vinyl on the a-side show multiple surface marks but plays remarkably well. Listen carefully to each of the soundfiles lifted directly of this disc. The sound easily wins through no matter which side you plays. Hugely sought-after disc, that gives up an opportunity to acquire two big tunes at an affordable price, maybe?
Rarely seen for sale or usually sold the moment it come to market. Now enjoy two Were Gonna Move - Masters At Work - Power House (Vinyl) winners Condition Report as described in detail above. British collectors alert! Unkown acetate!
When we first discovered this acetate just over a year since, we did go to social media, asking did anyone know anything about it. We did receive more than one scoffing response, stating it was "Ray Sharpe" of course. One nice ill-informed young collector kindly added "Well that pissed on your bonfire, Manship" Well we are happy to announce that bonfire is still ablaze, raging still, fueled by mystery; firstly because this is not Ray Sharpe, as even a cursory inexperienced comparison will reveal.
This obscure artist s does a word for word duplication of Ray's lyrics and the studio musicians do a flawless job of replicating King Curtis thumping dance production, but it certainly is not Ray himself go compare. But an unissued studio session that also pulled in a raw version of Major Lance's "Ain't No Soul Left In These Ole Shoes " which to my knowledge Ray Sharp never recorded and if by chance he did the recording would have not have had the amateurish but endearing intro, where the engineer does not affix the acetate and it slips for a split second - adding greatly to the UK provenance.
So listen no to an unissued British 7" acetate cut on a 60s vintage EMI disc, the version of "I Can't Take It " is nothing short of brilliant, as there is not even a single inferior note in comparison to the Atco by Ray. The mystery producer decorating the recording with utterly awesome girl-group choruses from above, aerial, sailing high above are shrill responses you'd only normally expect to encounter within the greatest mid's Northern Soul classics.
If anyone has any idea who this Brit-Band may be, please let us know, as both sides are important historical evidence of UK MOD bands chasing the best USA Soul dance songs, hoping to launch a "hit" 45 from.
Condition Report Two clean handwritten labels, fully intact high-gloss lacquer revealing only the merest sleeve storage hairlines, as yuo can hear it was cut with high fidelity levels of sound. Is this the most-potent Northern Soul instrumental ever born.
A triumphantly imposing Northern Soul instrumental of the very highest order Then that beyond-innovative DJ from across the border Keb Darge elevated this 45's "rare soul" reputation even higher, when he flip it over, presenting the equally destructive b-side "Barnyard Soul" to the worldwide Deep Funk scene post-millennium.
Both sides benefitting from Rosco Bowie's ability to make his chosen instrument "talk" a grand-master of the horns, he conducts an incessant brass-barrage during this raw attack on the senses, a basement jam session that could easily have had the cellar ceiling collapsing. A beautifully unrefined ejaculation of pent up musicianship, that triggers the perfect Northern Soul storm as the "Friends" join in this Rosco Bowie conducted unrehearsed "jam" that morphed into a NS Bombshell.
Keb's search of overlooked Deep Funk gems, struck "gold" when he flipped "Broadway Sissy" and found the spectacular uncompromising funk journey on the b-side Two of the best examples of "local" Soul musicians enjoying themselves, freestyle jamming in a friend's basement, you can feel every note of distilled enthusiasm resounding off the confines the party-room. Both sides give up pure energy driven by skilled musicians feeding off each other's instinctive exuberance Seldom seen for sale and never in this near perfect mint minus condition Condition Report Two clean labels, full gloss vinyl mint minus vinyl revealing only soft sleeve storage blemishes.
The whistling synth intro immediately pulls Wil Collins into action, his soaring vocal a compelling signal to park your drink and take to the dancefloor the perfectly paced percussion absolute ideal for the Northern Soul dancer to express themselves to. The innovative "slow down" soulful interlude towards the finale, lifts the session into true greatness as the "Willpower" harmony vocals suspends Wil's pleading voice just long enough for you to plead inside for that addictive dance-beat to reappear, it does just that!
Rare Were Gonna Move - Masters At Work - Power House (Vinyl) soulful dance at its all consuming very best, with a conclusion that will leave you just begging for more. Condition Report two clean promo labels, vinyl mono side is a glorious unblemished mint minus, stereo side reveals just a few soft hairlines when angled in the light. Ethiopians and the J. Very first release of this vintage Rock Steady anthem. Backed with the equally impressive "I'm Not Losing You".
Both sides shimmering with those emblematic tight harmony vocals, Emphasizing their position as arguably Jamaica's finest male harmony gathering, with another flawless vocal performance. Noting that whilst huge demand has triggered several reissues of "Everything Crash" this is the solitary release of "I'm Not Losing You" which many consider every note its equal. Condition Report Some inconspicuous writing in the a-side 4 prong centre, see images, flipside is clean clean just some soft age discolouring to the "white" areas.
Great tune in breathtaking condition. Condition Report a perfect, previously unplayed copy, as good as it gets. This Twisted Wheel anthem from the desk of Curtis Mayfield was quickly deleted, as were so many EMI 45's when it became blatantly apparent it was not destined for the charts.
It of course because a 60's club favourite. This record has lived in the hearts of Northern Soul fans for over 50 years, and today still ignites the same response it did back in An auction record today, because the timeless classic rarely surfaces in such fine, hardly played condition. Condition Report Two very clean labels, four prong die-cut center fully intact. The rarer release of this addictive NS motivator, with two equally superb NS dancers on one disc.
This was Pat Gordon and friends first 45, funded by Fast Eddie "Warhoftig" Records from Camden, New Jersey, quite why he was nicknamed himself "Fast Eddie" we are not completely sure, but he was certainly a music entrepreneur with talent, he was known by most people as "Broadway Eddie", with Eddie going forward to be awarded a Grammy to his contributions for music and the local community. Now whether that was the work of "Broadway Eddie" or "The Blenders" themselves, but more likely a collaboration made in Heaven as this now unrecognisable dancer takes to the air.
A joyous recording you can't help but want to dance to. Condition Report A name is written on the flipside label, otherwise two clean labels see imagesvinyl reveals some light hairlines when angled in the light, plays as you can hear both sides play crisp, clean and true. The talented Ike Noble and team are here again serving up, another vocal-group harmony excursion into D. Northern Soul. That released less than a handful of 45s that can be remotely classed as Soul 45's. We lead with the slightly more uptempo side "Just a Dream" with the beckoning blend of lilting guitar and considerate horn blows.
Another "thankful" narrative of finding the right girl, which Ike's convincing indebted voice portrays so well, within a simplistic street-corner symphony that his grainy soulfulness is the star, only for his long-awaited rescue to be shattered. Flip it over and the same ingredients bolster a totally different story, of loving a girl who doesn't love him. This brings forth Ike's inner determinationmotivating himself to just move on His expressive voice suiting this self-belief cradled by inspiring horns and approving guitar picking, welded and soothed by ghostly distant male group harmonies emphasizing he's not on his own, in his desire to pick himself up.
Two exquisite D. Condition Report two clean labels, strong gloss vinyl revealing soft surface hairlines under light. Paul Doctor Bird : DB 45s. It was two years later before Murvin Smith released another 45 in the UK his equally sought-after "Chattie Chattie" "Miss Cushie" is one of the more explicit examples of the "all in good fun" bawdy partying Rock Steady, enjoying cult status among DJ's and collectors alike. Seldom coming to market and invariably triggering an online collectors-scrimmage for ownership.
This is our first copy for a couple of decades, now listen to the double soundfile to remind yourself what all the fuss is about.
Another very rare Doctor Bird 45 that commands a huge worldwide following Do not pass by, we don't expect to see another copy any time soon.
Condition Report Previous owners rubberstamp i. Danny Overbea's first Checker release as the elusive 7 inch 45, in just impossibly perfect condition! Nearly 70 years old and still cocooned in it original scallop top, serrated seamed brown birth sleeve. King Kolax provides a rattling "pacing" drum, introduce the moody slide guitar pulses, wailing horns, relentless piano peppers Danny's building frustration, with Danny pacing the floor saturating himself in caffeine waiting for his gal to come home.
The Killer instrumental break and it's a quater for four you can now hear Danny now snarling exasperation, as he bemoans the fact she still isn't home. It's been hours and 40 cups later she arrives home at a quater to five, he wanted to hug and kiss her, but was just glad she came home alive!
Archive stock, impossible previously unplayed condition. Eddie Boyd went on to become a street Blues icon, this 45's is perhaps his rarest 60's creation. To acquire it in archive condition in is really more than remarkable! Condition Report An archive condition copy, two clean labels, bright crisp gold text black labels. Before we start our rave about this perfect-storm, of Northern Soul.
So if you're happy to own a miss-pressed 45 with the wrong labelling, read no further. As before you today, is the real-deal lounging in its rarest attire, the coveted yellow label.
The correct release, pressed once the pressing plant "work-experience" apprentice got his act together and placed the correct labels in the hopper.
Before you today, is the most devilish-dancefloor-detonator in its most-elusive form. An uncompromising production of the meanest kind, brutal piano and Hammond organ rumblings, with feet twisting instrumental breaks support Tony's ferocious vocal, a booming voice matched up to the immense hammering clout of his surroundings.
An explosive cocktail of clobbering piano keys and whirlwind Hammond whips up into an exemplary slab of Northern Soul Dance. Bristling with power, matched by a bellowing vocal that multiplies his muscular presence, with each verse he sings. Tony Galla's insistent torrent of love sweeps away all before it Whilst the flipside was written by the Sprouts themselves two accomplished guitarists guitar Bobby Johnson and William Cosby making this 45 a double rockabilly winner, albeit the flipsdide is more of a Billy-Bopper but a stroller of huge quality.
The duo started their brief journey on Spangle Records of Springfield, Ohio. Heavily influenced in style by some of the great Rockers emerging from the Sun studio in Memphis. This talented pair only released one more 45 for RCA before doing their last 45 in for Mercury. This their debut disc "Teen Billy Baby " being their most wanted, most intrusive, standout teen-rocker steeped in aggressive, rebellion and angst. A relentless rocker, elevated by some extreme guitar skills and off-the-scale percussion.
Some tune this is! So very rare on this British press. Condition Report Two clean labels, original tri-centre intact, flaw free label reveals on mild signs of turntable outings, as does the vinyl which has strong gloss, revealing only the merest sleeve storage hairlines under light. Condition Report Two totally clean labels, bright glossy mint minus vinyl.
Two totally clean labels, bright glossy mint minus vinyl. We have over the last 25 years attributed the word "Rare" to literally tens of thousands of elusive 45s. So what word do we use to describe a 45 we've not even listed for over 30 years! Arranged by the talented Chicago band leader George Patterson who surrounds Gerri's dramatic voice with instrumental subtleties, her glass shattering off-the-scale delivery that producer jazz legend Snookum Russell keeps in check with pumping horns before she destroys studio electricals.
A relentless Northern Soul bongo n' brass backbeat dominates the background before an impressive saxophone break gives Gerri a little respite, before her brutal bellowing launches itself one more time. It beggars belief that such a powerhouse voice never released more material than just her two 45's one on Constellation in then her final 45 in on Mica.
On the other side "I'm Stepping Out" delivers a Northern Soul mid-tempo Gerri is much more restrained, as she effortlessly sings of her departure from enduring a hurtful long-standing relationship. The studio crafting an oh-so-soulful street level NS stepper, beautifully decorated by George Patterson's wandering flute, snaking through a lush blanket of horns and burping saxophone. With Gerri's potent vocal, always the highpoint of the production. Two killer sides from one sadly under-recorded Soul sister with an overwhelming vocal.
Impossibly rare 45, very few collectors can boast of owning, seeing or even hearing before. Condition Report Two clean labels, no writing, stickers, stains or tears, just soft storage age-wear to the delicate white and pink label landscape, see images provided of this highly collectable Chicago imprint.
Two tracks off the Holy Grail unissued Sy Hytower album. Track 4 on the unissed LP was "I Know You're Leaving Me" requires no introduction for any of you, who have frequented all the up-front Soul Clubs across Europe and Scandinavia over the last 30 years where this has graced the turntables of most every A-list Soul DJ sets and further across the globe.
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