I can hardly imagine performing music I wrote to an audience of constant, deafening screams. How did the girls manage to scream for the entire length of a concert? It’s such a peculiar phenomenon—sustained excitement expressed in such an overwhelming way. Interestingly, while the majority of the noise comes from girls, you can occasionally hear boys, women, and men joining in, though their voices are almost entirely drowned out. I don’t mean to single out the girls, but their exuberant energy dominates the soundscape.
Despite the unrelenting screams captured on this record, it’s fascinating to hear the Beatles in their touring prime. They sound fantastic, even if the tempo of their performances feels rushed at times. Was Ringo trying to push the set along to escape the chaos? It’s anyone’s guess. Regardless of the pacing, their music still shines, full of love and passion—the very emotions that inspired such adoration from their fans.
Even today, the love for the Beatles endures, though fans now express their excitement differently. Instead of screaming their hearts out during concerts, they carry that joy and admiration in their hearts and minds.
Oh well it's Chicken Pot Pie time...
Mr. Eshnier
The Beatles at the Hollywood Bowl is a live album capturing the electric atmosphere of the Fab Four's performances at the iconic Hollywood Bowl in 1964 and 1965. Released in 1977, the album provides a rare glimpse into the energy and excitement of Beatlemania at its peak. The recordings, though technically challenging due to the deafening screams of fans, showcase the Beatles’ raw talent and ability to deliver unforgettable live performances despite the chaos surrounding them.
The tracklist features many of the Beatles' early hits, including Twist and Shout, She Loves You, and A Hard Day's Night, along with their endearing banter and charm between songs. Producer George Martin and engineer Geoff Emerick worked to enhance the original tapes, bringing out the music amid the audience's frenzied cheers.
In 2016, a remixed and remastered version of the album, Live at the Hollywood Bowl, was released to coincide with the documentary The Beatles: Eight Days a Week. This edition included four additional tracks and featured improved sound quality, offering a refreshed listening experience for fans.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, my son and I were playing outside when I noticed the perfect alignment of the moon and Venus in the evening sky—an ideal opportunity for some telescope viewing. I quickly retrieved my telescope from the house and set it up outdoors. We began by focusing on the moon, marveling at its craters and surface details, then shifted our attention to the brilliant Venus shining nearby. To conclude our session, we aimed our telescope at Uranus, enjoying the thrill of spotting this distant planet. Sharing these awe-inspiring celestial sights with my son was not only exciting but also a deeply rewarding experience.
This copy of the record was originally part of my mother’s collection of 45 singles. It holds a special place in my heart as one of the first records I ever listened to, back in the late 1980s. My mother kept her records stored in a box inside a cabinet in the living room, and when she was at work, I would rummage through them and play them on a portable 45 turntable from the late 1960s—a device that, given its age, would probably be a fire hazard today.
This record stood out immediately. From the moment I heard it, I knew something unique was happening. At the time, I had no idea what a synthesizer was, but the sound was unlike anything else I had experienced. It’s undeniably a goofy-sounding pop song with a distinct and zany overall sound. In the 1990s, I included it on mix tapes for friends, and their reactions were always the same: they found it weird, perhaps even bad, but undeniably intriguing.
Primarily instrumental, the track exudes an eccentric charm. Years later, in my 30s, I delved deeper into Mort Garson’s broader discography and discovered a treasure trove of innovative music. I’ve since become a true fan of his work. I won’t name any of his other pieces here because I encourage you to explore his catalog yourself. Mort Garson was a fascinating figure, and "Son of Blob," while just a brief moment in his musical journey, deserves to be celebrated by all who appreciate inventive and unconventional sounds.
Sincerely
Mr. Eshniner
"Son of Blob" is a 1972 novelty song performed by The Blobs, written by electronic music pioneer Mort Garson for the horror-comedy film Son of Blob (also known as Beware! The Blob), directed by Larry Hagman. The track was released as a 7-inch single by Verve Records, with "Party Pooper" as the B-side.
Mort Garson, renowned for his innovative use of the Moog synthesizer, infused "Son of Blob" with a quirky, electronic sound that complemented the film's campy nature. The song reflects Garson's experimental approach to music composition during the early 1970s.
The single was produced by Anthony Harris and distributed by Verve Records, a label known for its diverse catalog, including jazz and experimental music. While "Son of Blob" did not achieve significant commercial success, it remains a notable example of early electronic novelty music and Garson's eclectic body of work.
In 2020, "Son of Blob" was reissued as part of the compilation album Music from Patch Cord Productions, which features a collection of Mort Garson's compositions, highlighting his contributions to electronic music.
I recently received Nashville Gold from my good friend Tony as a Christmas gift, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have it in my collection. After my first listen a few days ago, I found myself playing the entire album several more times throughout the day. The synthesizers bring a unique, almost neutral tonality to the country music, transforming the genre in an intriguing way. Traditional guitar sounds are scarce, with the characteristic twang instead reimagined through the synths—a challenging feat for any digital instrument, but one that’s executed beautifully here. I’m captivated by the album as a whole and eagerly anticipate many more enjoyable listens in the future.
Mr. Eshniner
Nashville Gold by Gil Trythall is a fascinating fusion of country music and Moog synthesizer experimentation, a bold creative effort that emerged in the 1970s. Known for blending traditional country sounds with the cutting-edge electronic music technology of the time, Trythall reimagined popular country hits in a way that was both innovative and genre-defying. The album features iconic tracks like "Wichita Lineman" and "King of the Road," transformed into electronic orchestrations that retain the heart of the originals while exploring entirely new sonic dimensions.
Gil Trythall, a classically trained musician and early Moog enthusiast, brought an unparalleled level of sophistication to the project, combining his deep knowledge of both traditional music theory and the avant-garde possibilities of synthesizers. Nashville Gold stands as a testament to the adventurous spirit of the 1970s, where artists were eager to push boundaries and blend seemingly disparate musical worlds.
Though niche in its appeal, the album has gained recognition over the years as a cult classic, celebrated by fans of both country music and electronic music for its daring and imaginative approach. Nashville Gold continues to inspire listeners with its unique take on musical fusion, showcasing the endless possibilities of creative expression.
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I feel hopeful as of now for 2025. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think the main reason is that I’ve chosen to focus on myself and my family. By keeping things simple and tuning out unnecessary distractions, I’ve found a sense of peace and clarity. This simplicity feels like a foundation for optimism, and it’s helping me look forward to the year ahead with quiet confidence.
Here is a song and video I created for a track by The Cowsills from the late '60s. Back then, I didn’t post many videos on this blog—perhaps because it never occurred to me to merge my creative projects with blogging. I suppose I preferred to keep things separate at the time.
This song represents one of my first ventures into multitrack recording and one of the earliest cover songs I ever produced. I was new to home recording, and listening to it now, it does sound a bit rigid to my ears. Still, it’s far from terrible. I vividly remember sharing it with friends, who jokingly assumed I must have been a flower child reincarnated—or perhaps indulging in something illicit! Of course, none of that was true; I’ve always lived a clean and straightforward lifestyle, and that remains the case to this day.
The song is called The Rain, the Park, and Other Things, and I hope you enjoy this early recording of mine.
Here in this video is the band Organically Programed performing a song at the Flicker Theater on November 29th 2024. This was the last show I attended in Athens, GA, that wasn’t connected to my own band. Coincidentally, it took place on the same day that Will Hart passed away, adding an unusual and somber weight to the experience. While Organically Programmed delivered an incredible performance, there was an undeniable sense of mourning in the atmosphere that lingered throughout the event. Please enjoy this video, because this band is one of the best bands in Athens Ga these days.
Back in the early 2000s, I primarily shared drawings I was working on this blog, and I’d like to continue that tradition moving forward. For 2025 and beyond, my goal is to consistently post something on this blog, creating a year-long (or longer!) archive of creative work. I’m excited to grow this platform alongside my YouTube channel.
This particular drawing is from 2018—the year I began exploring digital art with an Apple Pencil. In this piece, I was experimenting with creating a painterly effect, something I haven’t revisited since. It’s an unusual concept: a tree terrified of a fire—a fear that feels entirely logical. The characters’ expressions add a humorous touch, and I hope it brings a smile to your face. Thank you for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy this quirky artwork!
This is the first album I ever created, recorded between 1998 and 1999. After school, I would come home and record the songs I was writing on a cassette tape recorder. The process was crude and simple, often involving two tape recorders: one to create a drum track and the other to layer a guitar track over the initial recording. I also experimented with my 486 computer, using the basic Windows Sound Recorder application to craft additional tracks.
Here’s the description from that time: Omar Mathatron is Eshniner Forest’s first album, primarily recorded between 1998 and 1999 in Duluth, Georgia. Many of the tracks were created using a portable tape recorder, while others were crafted on a 486 computer using the Windows Sound Recorder program. These computer recordings were later transferred to cassette tapes and, in 2011, digitized back onto a computer.
Note: These recordings are decidedly low-fi in production quality, created purely as an artistic exploration by the individual behind them. They are presented here as a form of documentation and archival effort.
I came across this Romper Room single in Athens, Georgia, at a small outdoor record shop, probably around 2007. I was with my friend Tony, who had a friend selling a stack of 45s. As I sifted through the records, I found a few interesting ones, but this particular Romper Room single caught my attention. Having watched the show in the early 1980s, it was a nostalgic find, and at just a dollar, it seemed like a steal.
Later, I discovered that the record was actually from 1959, which added another layer of intrigue. I’ve always been drawn to children’s programming from the late 70s and 80s, but learning that this record predated even that by a couple of decades only deepened my appreciation for it. It felt like a perfect piece of history, a tangible connection to a bygone era of educational television, and a reminder of the way music played a role in shaping the childhood experiences of generations before mine.
Romper Room Bouncing Ball Song & Romper Room Punch a Ball Song (1959)
Released in 1959, the 45 RPM single featuring "Romper Room Bouncing Ball Song" and "Romper Room Punch a Ball Song" by The Cricketone Children’s Choir and Orchestra is a delightful piece of mid-century children’s entertainment. These songs, closely tied to the beloved Romper Room TV show, encapsulate the essence of 1950s educational programming, where music was used as a tool to engage young audiences in active learning and play.
"Romper Room Bouncing Ball Song"
The “Romper Room Bouncing Ball Song” is the epitome of simple, catchy fun. With its repetitive lyrics and cheerful melody, it’s a song designed to get children singing and interacting with the show. The track features the enthusiastic voices of the Cricketone Children’s Choir, whose playful and innocent harmonies provide a joyful backdrop to the song’s message. The inclusion of the "bouncing ball" was an iconic part of the Romper Room experience, and the song’s rhythmic simplicity makes it an ideal vehicle for children to follow along with.
The arrangement by the Cricketone Orchestra is light and bouncy, full of the optimism and innocence of 1950s children’s music. Though the song might seem simple by today’s standards, its charm lies in its directness and energy. It's not just a song to listen to—it’s a song to participate in. The playful vocals, combined with the upbeat instrumental backing, create an inviting atmosphere that encourages young viewers to get involved, whether by singing, clapping, or even pretending to bounce a ball along with the melody.
"Romper Room Punch a Ball Song"
On the flip side, "Romper Room Punch a Ball Song" continues in the same vein, encouraging interaction but with a slight twist: this time, the children are invited to "punch" a ball as they sing along. It’s an active, physical song designed to get kids moving. The Cricketone Children’s Choir again delivers the song with exuberance, and the orchestral arrangement is just as lively and rhythmic, with playful percussion elements that mimic the action of punching and bouncing.
This track reinforces the interactive nature of Romper Room—it wasn’t just about passive entertainment; it was about getting kids involved in the fun. The simplicity of the lyrics, paired with the bouncing rhythm of the orchestra, makes it an easy song for children to follow, all while encouraging physical movement. It’s an ideal companion to the first song, providing an energetic counterpoint with a slightly more physical and rhythmic focus.
A Timeless Educational Tool
Both songs, though modest in their scope, were designed with one clear purpose: to engage and educate children through music. There’s something deeply charming about the innocence of these tracks. The repetitive nature of the lyrics, the simple but catchy melodies, and the underlying educational purpose are all hallmarks of 1950s children’s music. The songs are not complex, but their simplicity is what makes them so effective—they’re fun, easy to sing, and designed to be actively participated in by the child listener.
Looking back at these songs now, it’s clear that they represent a golden age of children’s programming, where music and television intersected in ways that encouraged both entertainment and learning. The Romper Room songs were never about high art; they were about creating an accessible, joyful experience for kids—and they succeed in doing just that.
For collectors and fans of Romper Room, these tracks offer a nostalgic glimpse into the past, evoking memories of a simpler time when children’s TV and music were crafted to entertain, engage, and, most importantly, involve the audience. Even today, their playful energy and simplicity make them a charming reminder of the educational power of music.
The first time I encountered Ruben and the Jetswas nearly two decades ago, courtesy of some obscure blogger who had transferred the album from its original vinyl pressing into a digital file. I remember the moment clearly—how I was instantly captivated by its raw, off-kilter energy. What struck me was the album's ability to seamlessly blend sweetness with a sharp edge, a characteristic that became the hallmark of Frank Zappa’s unique genius. The sarcastic vocals, combined with the unusual tonal range of the entire record, instantly drew me in. The subject matter was simultaneously romantic and innocent, yet it carried an undeniable, almost filthy subtext—one that I found myself relating to in a way I couldn’t quite articulate at the time. It was not your typical, easy-listening experience, and that dissonance is precisely what kept me engaged as a listener. The copy I have here is one I picked up in 2023 in Athens Ga at a Secret Record Swap Meet.
What made Ruben and the Jets even more fascinating was its ability to subvert the norms of early rock and roll while maintaining a distinct sense of nostalgic reverence for the genre. Zappa’s manipulation of doo-wop conventions and 1950s pop sensibilities wasn’t just a parody; it was a celebration of those forms, though always laced with his biting irony and complex musical arrangements. There was something profoundly subversive about the whole affair—the lyrics were lovey and sweet on the surface but carried an undercurrent of wit and mockery that hinted at a deeper, darker view of pop culture.
And then there was the cover art: the image of anthropomorphic dog people playing music, which, for me, perfectly encapsulated the essence of the album. It struck me as a metaphor for those who find themselves on the margins—"guys in the doghouse"—both figuratively and literally. The dogs, like the album itself, seemed both absurd and somehow deeply relatable, as if to say, This is music for the misfits, for those who feel out of place, for those who don’t quite fit into the conventional molds. It was a visceral, almost primal aesthetic that resonated with me on a subconscious level.
Mr. Eshniner
As the years have gone by, my appreciation for Ruben and the Jets has only deepened. It’s one of those rare albums that reveals more of itself with each listen, always offering something new to uncover. The initial oddity that I found so intriguing has evolved into a rich, multifaceted work that blends Zappa’s sharp cultural critique with his unparalleled musicianship. It has become not just a favorite but an album that continues to hold a special place in my personal music canon. Zappa’s ability to layer humor, sentimentality, and musical complexity in a way that challenges yet entertains has made Ruben and the Jets an album I return to time and time again.
Ruben and the Jets is a 1973 album by The Mothers of Invention, led by the ever-innovative Frank Zappa. It's one of Zappa's most playful and genre-defying works, offering a striking departure from his earlier, more experimental albums. Rather than the avant-garde rock or satirical commentary Zappa was known for, Ruben and the Jets embraces a nostalgic, doo-wop and early rock 'n' roll sound, though always filtered through Zappa's characteristic satirical lens.
The concept of the album is a humorous, surreal exploration of the 1950s rock and roll scene. Zappa and the band adopt the persona of a fictional group called Ruben and the Jets, a nod to both the cultural climate of early rock music and the kinds of cookie-cutter, mass-produced bands that populated the industry. The album's title, the band's fictional name, and the entire aesthetic evoke the world of greasy-haired, pompadoured teen idols, but Zappa's tongue-in-cheek approach ensures that the music is never straightforward homage.
Musical Style and Themes
The album features a smooth blend of doo-wop, doo-wop-influenced rock, and soul, with lush brass arrangements, tight vocal harmonies, and retro production values. The band plays with the conventions of these genres while simultaneously mocking the commercialization of popular music. There are moments of jarring dissonance and unexpected twists that keep the listener on edge, preventing the album from becoming a pure nostalgia trip. Zappa often juxtaposes the clean, melodic pop structures with off-kilter solos, strange time signatures, and eccentric arrangements.
The tracks often feature playful, often satirical lyrics, reflecting Zappa's typical penchant for social commentary. Songs like "Cheap Thrills" and "Love of My Life" poke fun at the saccharine nature of mainstream music, while "Deseri" and "Jelly Roll Gum Drop" showcase Zappa’s ability to capture the innocent exuberance of the era, albeit through a sharply critical lens.
The band on this album also features some of Zappa’s most talented collaborators, including Ian Underwood on keyboards and woodwinds, George Duke on keyboards and vocals, and Don Preston on synthesizers. Their contributions help bring Zappa's vision to life, with smooth, well-executed performances that might seem more conventional compared to some of the band's earlier, more experimental work but still leave room for bursts of creativity and unpredictability.
Reception and Legacy
Upon its release, Ruben and the Jets was a bit of an anomaly in Zappa's discography. Many fans and critics found it odd compared to his other works like Hot Rats or Freak Out!, which were more clearly defined in their experimental and rock-oriented sounds. The album's blend of retro styles and Zappa's quirky, often irreverent approach may have confused some listeners, but over time, it has been appreciated as a fascinating exploration of Zappa's versatility and a glimpse into his ability to bend genres to his will.
Today, Ruben and the Jets is considered a quirky gem in Zappa’s catalog. It’s an album that blends humor, nostalgia, and musical craftsmanship, and its lighthearted approach stands out amidst Zappa’s more intense, avant-garde works. For those willing to appreciate its wit and cleverness, it remains a fun and insightful piece of Zappa’s boundary-pushing legacy.
