Friday, January 13, 2017

Rockets To The Future

Only 2 weeks late, when thoughts start to wander...

Best Of lists kinda suck.  You know this.  You have yr own favorite rekkids, and nobody, nobody at all,understands why you picked those extra special albums that really spoke to you. You are a special flower.  And we give you a great big hug to your special feelings. But...rock'n'roll, mutha fuckers!!!!! And this list is all about the loud rocking and rolling....On our previous site (Big Rock Candy Mountain, for those that remember) we convulsed and prevaricated over a 50+ rekkid best of list,  over a tediously lengthy exercise in rawk flagellation.  Not here.  These are the rekkids we grooved to the most year, that gave us the biggest boners. Lots of great bands that bubbled under, and we'll talk about many of 'em down the line. For now, though....

Look down at the end for a kickin' mix featuring all the following bands...our gift to you!

Outhouse Moon's Most Bestest Of All Time Records of 2016 (at least for the next 10 minutes)


The Pukes: The Revenge of The Pukes

Nasty-ass punk garage filth straight outta Milwaukee...yr new super duper location for kick ass rawk'n'roll.....


C.W. Stoneking: Gon Boogaloo

Deep cuntry world in conflict outsider (whatever the hell that means)...rhythmic hoodoo groove, who the fuck cares....swayed out low bottom juke 'n' jive...


Archie and the Bunkers: Mystery Lover

Said this: Mystery Lover oozes slow, with greasy organ laying down post-coital slack before kicking into a deep, deep skeez to get yr pants off. The Thin Man busts out a snot soaked blurp'n' slupin'ode to drank ("I'd like to have another glass, or,  maybe another too (2?)/whaddya say, Nora (?), shall we drink the night away?"). Mexican Garage, Sunglasses After Dark, and The Moon and Sixpence all keep the dirty basement, grainy porno vibe alive.


Fret Rattles: Pedal To The Medal and Damn The Consequences

Said this: A buzzing, Deeetroit via Minneapolis slab of high octane scuzz, unrelenting greased up rawk, ratchet fried and oil splattered, this aint for the faint of heart. Land speed records set (only one song clocking in over four minutes, the rest at an appropriate 2-3 minute burning trashcan explosion), you can feel the peel-out skid marks on yr parent's lawn, taking Deadman's curve down the road to fiery hell, bustedbentblackened guardrails a testament to Saturday night gone terribly, wonderfully wrong.


Nots: Cosmetic 

Skuzzed out, blast off punk'n'roll, shouted and dense, throbbed out destructo!


DD Owen: DD Owen

Filthy sounding scum rawk, blasted in 2 minute (or less) gooey spurts.  The song "Degenerate" got the most plays on my media player all year.  This is why god invented rawk'n'roll.


Counter Intuits: Monosyllabilly

Ron House (Great Plains, Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments, Ego SummitUsed Kids Records, etc, etc, etc) is yr lord and savior.  Here teaming up with Times New Viking's Jared Phillips, a highly literate snot fest, spastic lo-fi geetar and fuckyouasfuck drumming, House going whippet voiced on nihilism as humor, dark. Columbus, Ohio punk rock forever!


Tyler Keith and the Apostles: Do It For Johnny

Yr back porch, southern fried but stomped out, shaken to the ground, buzzed out nihilism, spittle-flecked, gospel of the backwoods fire sparked, razing mud and fuck all y'all, batter the hatches against the plague of locust who buzz yr ears and say yesyesyes......


Jack Oblivian and the Sheiks: The Lone Ranger Of Love

Always our favorite solo Oblivian artist (an amazing feat considering the brilliance of his fellow compatriots who have equally kicked our ass in their own know who they are), Jack Oblivian has always been on the precipice of  that one record...and here it is.  We'll do a full love-fest to his career at some point, but this is the rekkid that catapults...the rekkid that lays down a fully realized sound'n'vision...every tune a bar-time anthem, a down'n'dirty elbows off the wood pint raiser, grooved and sleazy like all good rawk garbage, dark alley blessed, late nite buzzed creak in yr libido on overdrive, everything blissed and gritty, sepia toned world buckled at yr wobbly knees. Grab yr gal or feller, cuz The Sheiks , who back Jack on this r'n'r platter, beat the primal shit of this muthafucka.

In any given year this would be the very best slice of rawk genius in 2016.  But, then, this happened....


Meet Your Death: Meet Your Death

Our very first post at Outhouse Moon. This site was actually created specifically to post about this rekkid (or, we started early, just to feature this record, whichever you choose to believe).  So, there's that.   We had laid Big Rock Candy Mountain to rest, assuming we had said whatever could be said.  But this record lingered with promise, and we  realized there was so much more to say.  And this is the album that made us believe again.  Thee mighty Walter Daniels .  Thee mighty John Schooley.  Matt Hammer (Strange Boys, OBNIII's ) and Hapal Assi (Wiccans and Video)
on amazing rhythm section.  Your best bet is to read what we said before,    We stand by this record as not just the best of this year, but as a glorious, static destroying, fuzzed out hollered piece, rawk that will make you fuck like the end of times.  This is really the only album you need.  Purge all else and put this on repeat, the apocalypse is now in yr hands.....

Please enjoy the following mix, made especially for you. 

Friday, December 30, 2016


FYI---> Every highlighted word below links up to something digitally hand-picked, and (probably) related. Just for you. By me. Happy clicking#Peace 

My name is Rick Saunders. I've operated the Deep Blues blog for fifteen-some years, along with another blog called Rick Saunders World

I don't believe in Best Of lists, or best of anything when it comes to music. It's not possible. All music is valid. There's no contest. You can't tell me just because you like A that B is not good. Maybe B is not for you. Maybe you aren't ready for B. Whatever. I just figure that whatever music keeps you from stabbing me is fine. You're down with Mike Bolton? Good. Have you heard Otis Redding's Cigarettes and Coffee? Whatever works for you is cool. In music there is space for everyone at the table, and everyone has a place.

Here's what's worked for me this last year, in no particular order:

First off, an essential album this year was Natchez Burnin', by Robert Lee "Lil Poochie" Watson & Hezekiah Early. With this their, if I counted right and including the "Hits" collection and the Christmas single, their twelfth release, Hungry & Hungry Records presents one of it's best recordings yet. Here's my spiel about it on my Deep Blues blog. It might just be what'll get you through the next couple years.

That ODB mix by Audioprophecy was outstanding. It never failed to start a party in my car on the way to work. A real hard futuristic funkass knockout.

The Virtual Reality video for Childish Gambino's Me And Your Mama is amazing, and the song is the best thing on the album. Nothing else on the album comes close.#OnTheP

I rediscovered just how cool MiXendorp's blues remixes can be.

That jam by Dr. Dre and The D.O.C. called Gorilla Pimpin' with its root touched up from B.T. Express's Do It Til You're Satisfied mashed with D.O.C.'s G funk impossible not to let boom.

I've been on a big band kick the last couple years, but it intensified while reading a heartbreaking bio of the late, great, trumpeter Bunny Berigan, followed by a bio of the original King of the Jazz age, Paul Whiteman and his orchestras. This has led me to and the wealth of public domain WWII Armed Forces Radio V-discs (for victory!) available there for free, public domain (legal) download. Most any jazz sub-genre Big Band, Swing...they seem to have it. I was looking for some Charlie Barnet. I found 206 songs in one collection, and a bunch more as single downloads. It's nuts! Nearly every obscure swing or whatever/whoever I've searched for I've been able to find recordings at Archive.

I particularly got into AFRS (Armed Forces Radio Service) V-discs for the Jubilee that ran from 1942 -1953, broadcast to service personnel around the world via AFRS, and recorded primarily for African-American members of the military. Per Wikipedia, "Jubilee was conceived at least in part as a morale-building service for African-American troops overseas. The wartime host was Ernie "Bubbles" Whitman."
live radio shows. Imagine a time that the norm was seen a 10 person or more band? One of the best shows was a series called
"Most of the shows were recorded before live audiences in Los Angeles. The series emerged as an important piece of black heritage. Its War Department status exempted the performing artists from the union-mandated recording bans of 1942-43 and 1947–48 and many of the shows contain unique performances." On these shows you'll hear your great host Ernie Bubbles Whitman and his hip syncopated jive patter, so gone it might take a couple listens to catch it, there will be special guest stars like Butterfly McQueen, and Ida James, Louis Jordan, Jimmy Rushing aka Mr. 5 X 5, Louis Armstrong, Art Tatum, Mills Brothers, Fats Waller, Lucky Millinder's Orchestra with Sister Rosetta Tharp, the Delta Rhythm Boys, and many, many more. Truly an outstanding audio/cultural document.

Connected to the whole big band jag I've been on, I have also discovered a wealth of terrific unsung or barely sung musicians and singers. Unsung, or no longer sung, to me at least.  Mildred Bailey is/was/always will be a Queen. Her chief competition was Billie Holiday. But everyone knows Billie, no one remembers Mildred. Mildred thought it was because she was a big girl. Some of you do. Bless your hearts. Now I do too, and so do you.

Tony Pastor was another unknown big band treat I discovered this last year from downloading mp3s of V disc recordings. I'm not talking about Tony Pastor, the man who essentially invented Vaudeville, but the big band sax man, entertainer, and singer. Pastor started out on sax, then turned into a singing entertainer who always had a really tight band, with swingin' rhythms and even hotter horns, a fellow who led his own band, from 1939-1959. Tony Pastor passed on to the great nightclub in the sky in 1969.

Charlie Barnet and his Orchestra were a real powerhouse. They must have been something to see live. And Lucky Millinder! Wow! I found Erskine Hawkins via my search for anything by Ida James. She remains a mystery. She came with a unique voice, did some good work with the likes of Nat King Cole and Erskine Hawkins, and then from what I can tell, she least internet-wise. And I reacquainted myself with the joys of Cab Calloway.

The sweetest jazz age etc find this year was a collection of recordings, again from, of Willard Robison. I was intrigued because my wife's last name is Robison, and I wondered why no one had mentioned Cousin Willard to me. As far as I know there is no relation, but it was a happy coincidence that led me to one of my favorite things of the year: Willard Robison.

And I got into this album by the band City And Colour called If I Should Go Before You. My wife says they sound like Sting (you just had a shiver go down your spine didn't you?) but I hear more of a Buckley influenced thing. They're extra good loud. In fact I can't get them loud enough. If you liked those two really amazing Talk Talk albums, you'll dig this.

That new Thurston Moore album is good! I haven't been interested in what he's been up to for ages, it just got too wanky, and self-indulgent. Respect...I like to play weird music, too. But. Whatevs. Here, Moore is actually rocking again. Kudos!

I also heard this gorgeous Brinsley Schwartz song called Hymn To Me.

I discovered that, despite their name, I like Yo La Tengo a lot.

I haven't decided how much I like the album, but Danny Brown's single Really Doe ft. Kendrick Lamar, Ab-Soul, Earl Sweatshirt is what's going to get me thru the fall. And everybody was reminded this year of the skills of the great Raphael Saadiq via Netflix' Luke Cage. #TopGame

I listened to a lot of Janet Jackson albums and remixes. #MissJackson

I rocked to Bo Diddley's monster of Diddley funk Black Gladiator.
I loved Cheese Finger Brown's debut Low-Down People. It's terrific.
That new Robert Finley album on Big Legal Mess Records is incredible.
I got into a guy named Maverick Sabre because of my family's love of the man known as Plan B. This jam from Ill Al Scratch threw down a tight interpoloation of a Curtis Mayfield jam, the groove of which was made popular by Mary J Blige in her song Happy. Now let it breathe.

I culled Millie Jackson's discography to the essentials and still had probably 70 tracks. What an amazing talent.

My brother Keary turned me onto The Skatalites, who I'd heard, but never really listened to. They play classic ska. I was slain by British jazz saxist Tubby Hayes. I liked Lana Del Ray's Dan Auerbach-produced Ultra-Violence album. Vince Guaraldi, Anderson .Paak,  Charles X's jam Can You Do It? and a lot of Death Row Records...The Hon. Dr. Dre, Mr. Snoop D-O-double-G, The DOC! Lady of Rage, Dogg Pound, a lot of Morphine b'cuz I'm in a Morphine cover band. They're amazing, and their songs are really fun and challenging to play

Max Roach and Abby Lincoln's Freedom Now Suite is a brilliant gem of afrolit-nik Black American Music that stands tall to this day. This year, I continued my fascination with Shorty Rogers and his Men via the album Jazz Waltz. Keith Leblanc's album of remixed Chess Records tracks was pretty tight. Thank You, Mona. The Mrs came home from a trip to NYC where she'd heard The Range in a record store. We listened to that album for a while, again an interesting back story.

Let's see, what else, Corinne Bailey Rae's new one is a Yes. And that Adam Levine song from the movie Begin Again is lovely, and if this was 1973 you'd be digging it. I got into It's A Beautiful Day for awhile, too. You know their song White Bird. They have an interesting back story. I went thru their discography and culled it to a dozen terrific songs having very little, and yet everything to do with White Bird.

I listened to a lot of jazz this year. Saxophonist Gil Melle`, more Serge Chaloff, Kamasi Washington (duh) + a lot of the folks in his circle, the new Ray LaMontagne album with the kids from My Morning Jacket is gorgeous, and a haunting listening experience.

The new Tindersticks album is perhaps their best album. They've always attempted albums, but ended up with some good songs- some great, and some brave but perhaps questionable experiments, but their album The Waiting Room is solid throughout, their french-tinged and heartworn, smoothed-out but well-tensioned britsouljazzfolklitrock is at it's most refined, allowing them to go even deeper down into it. Well played, Tindersticks. Indeed.

Books? I've read a few. A bunch of Sinclair Lewis's books, ten I think, with two on deck. A fantastic bio of Zorah Neale Hurston, a couple, three Marjorie Kinan Rawlings books, two on deck, the aforementioned Bunny Berigan and Paul Whiteman books, a couple Steve Canyon comic collections, and I started but haven't finished a bunch more books...A couple Dickens, I've almost finished Oliver, and Martin Chuzzlewit. I finished one and started another book by Irvin S. Cobb, an early-20th century humorist (and don't get me started on my wonder at the fact that we no longer have people credited as humorists) known as the original Duke of Paducah (Kentucky.) I still love Eugene Walter, and I'm really sad that George Michael passed on. That's enough. If you actually read to the end of this post, congratulations! I thank youXO #Fuck2016

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Mystery Lover

Sometimes in a fever dream you hear a buzz, a nagging, sexual thing, a clinking highball keeping rhythm with hoodoo groove, depraved holler and filthy organ blurping and sleazing, riding a soulful, scuzzy late-night stripper dance into hell.

Mayhaps there's a visual,  Satan seated behind church organ, throwing finger horns, deep red velvet drapes behind a bacchanalia, an orgy of young, hep, beat cats frugging and twisting and deep bending the apocalyptic full moon til the break of dawn, sweat drenched frenzy in glassy eyes.

And, so, Archie And The Bunkers.  A 2-piece outta Cleveland muthafuckin' Ohio, featuring brothers(?) Cullen (Organ and Vocals) and Emmett (Drums and Vocals). These spazz kickers are gonna destroy you and yr inner low-humpin' leg shake off.

On their new 6-song rekkid , Mystery Lover, we have a fucking sleaze fest of rawk'n'roll, vocals yelping,orgasm humped into organ slime, quivering and hallelujah drone v. swirling and filthy, yr favorite spurting fantasy, drums throbbed and primal like a dark night on a mystery train to the deepest, darkest woods, shadowed images shimmy shake around rhythmic hellfire.

All That Loving kicks things off, with a shout out to NYC and mighty Cleveland, tricky time signatures aside, a menacing swaggering pole-danced groover("come over here and give me a nice big kiss"). Mystery Lover oozes slow, with greasy organ laying down post-coital slack before kicking into a deep, deep skeez to get yr pants off. The Thin Man busts out a snot soaked blurp'n' slupin'ode to drank ("I'd like to have another glass, or,  maybe another too (2?)/whaddya say, Nora (?), shall we drink the night away?"). Mexican Garage, Sunglasses After Dark, and The Moon and Sixpence all keep the dirty basement, grainy porno vibe alive.

Our "Best Of" list is coming, and this'un's gonna be on it. Essential.

Cats have a full length on Dirty Water Records (which contains yr biographical info)  that came out last year.(produced by Jim Diamond, goodgodalmighty!). Mystery Lover is available here.  Your life will be improved by the presence of this rekkid in it.  Really.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016


Rawk week!  We'll get to some Country and other stuff soon.  But, this is Rawk week.  Behold. 

What the fuck is rawk?  Isn't it just rock with a funny spelling?  Nah. rawk is a state of mind, and a sound that is raw and a little nastier. The Stooges, Rolling Stones, Replacements, Oblivians and The Runaways were rawk, AC/DC, The Beatles, REM, Pearl Jam, and Heart are, well, rock.  There's a longer piece to be written, with more obscure examples and tons of explication, But we'll save that for our book.

What we really care about is the new Fret Rattles rekkid, Pedal to the Metal and Damn the Consequences!

A buzzing, Deeetroit via Minneapolis slab of high octane scuzz, unrelenting greased up rawk, ratchet fried and oil splattered, this aint for the faint of heart. Land speed records set (only one song clocking in over four minutes, the rest at an appropriate 2-3 minute burning trashcan explosion), you can feel the peel-out skid marks on yr parent's lawn, taking Deadman's curve down the road to fiery hell, bustedbentblackened guardrails a testament to Saturday night gone terribly, wonderfully wrong.

Featuring members of Thee Viceroys, Dirty Robbers and Fuck Knights, you know yr getting some adrenaline fueled and speed-laced hollerin', geetar destroy oh boy, metalpunk snot soaked vocals, and vapor fumed rhythm.  

You can grab a couple of songs here for free (but hey, give 'em some money...they worked hard for it..)

You can buy the digital rekkid here (minus two extra tracks available on the LP).  Or you can buy the actual long player at these rekkid stores (many with online stores). 

Check out the following video to lead you into salvation...

Friday, September 16, 2016

Mysteries and Manners

We've got a worldwide exclusive premiere today!

The good and right Rev. Tom Frost has been shaking chains, exorcising demons, and shaking bogeymen loose for years, and over numerous albums and projects.  Each of these albums have served a carnival ride ticket into the darker corners of a world both natural and supernatural, stomping affairs filled with western noir, exploitation sleaze, Waitsian holler, riddim'n'booze, and sanctified holy roller baptism. He's about to release his best rekkid yet.

Mysteries and Manners (due September 30) is a killer, ghosted, fright-fest, full of tribal rhythm, hoodoo voodoo,  and dirty deeds done in stormy dark nights.

Kicking off with Dorsey Burnette's Tall Oak Trees, with its resonator geetar and phlegm soaked guttural vocal, the lyric (And then along came the devil/Up out of the ground/He tempted the woman/And that spread sin all around) sets the stage and Frost hollers maniacally over the top, surging the trope and claiming it into a throbbing revival meeting. 

Things spiral even further into Dante's purgatorio from there: The Dark Road bashes into a frenzy; Thunder and I rides a harmonica groove into Route 666, pickup truck spinning on brimstone road; Trashcan slings a greasy blues workout blessed by Santa Muerte; Golden Days, Red Hot Night sears mariachi seared into the very flames of hell. Frost's take on Hey Brother, Pour the Wine, most famously done by his lordship, Sir Dean Martin, visits a mafioso party turned sangria bloody, and Frankie Laine's That Lucky Old Sun is a barrelhouse rollicker,  rollin' 'round heaven all day. 

Rev. Frost plays almost all the instruments on this rekkid, ably assisted by Dr. Fredaz on Sax and Trumpet.  His voice is a crunched gravel Pentecostal preacher, testifyin' in tongues and lust, salvation and sleaze,  full of stomping, sin-fueled rave-up, soul sold twistin' hallelujah, hay-baled scuzz, Satan-blessed nightmare, you wake in a terror sweat, fumbling for the dial, radio tuned into crackly transmission from the blessed damned, all-night DJ spinning the soundtrack for the end of days, the jukejoint full of skeletons rattling sacred bones into dust, the pork pie pianist with burning fingers laughing in flames, unchained ghosts dancing about the shimmy wobble, sing Glory! Glory!

The rekkid, Mysteries and Manners, comes out September 30th. One of thee very best records of the year!  For more info, and to pre-order, go here.  

Until then, listen to this:

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

A Treatise on My Fealty to Canada's Doug and The Slugs

I put together a selection of my favorite songs by these fellows, and you may listen to it HERE. After you've enjoyed the songs, how about giving them some money and getting more Doug and The Slugs in return? Go HERE.

It's a damn shame Doug and The Slugs were never bigger in the states, or anywhere else...but Canada.

Formed in 1977 by the brilliant-and-not-just-for-a-Canadian-newspaper editor/cartoonist Doug Bennett, in
 Vancouver, Canada, Doug and The Slugs was an antediluvian big-band romance and sardonic boogie band, with the heart of an alt-Manilow, and blahblahblah something to do with W. Somerset Maugham.

Their first album, titled Cognac and Bologna, was released in 1980. Paid for by a second mortgage on their managers home, it yielded hits in the top 20 and 75 in Canada, zilch of course, in The States. But, my apartment back in those heady '80s days, in spite of my deep abiding love, my abiding love for early Costello, Doug and The Slugs often rivaled Costello and Joe Jackson, both lyrically and musically. Hell, they could have kicked the ass of Huey Lewis AND The News, but for their Canadianess.

The Slugs' songs were hooky as hell, clever, witty, sharp, a little too smart, and often quite poignant, but for some reason in spite of a top twenty album that sold over 100,000 albums in Canada their mix of R & B, ska, and often archaic in pop forms, Doug and The Slugs barely crossed over here in the U.S. I suppose it's because I lived in the Pacific Northwest, closer to the well-spring of Vancouver, British Columbia.

Unless you live close to Canada, you'll rarely have heard Canadian bands, beyond Neil and Geddy. That's nothing new for Canadian bands. Considering the Canadian sense of humour for band names- Doug and The Slugs, The Tragically Hip, Bryan Adams, Geddy, can't be easy. Perhaps the songs were a little too witty for yanks. Like Canadian Bacon.

They did score the theme for comedian and fellow Canuck Norm MacDonald's short lived tv show, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Doug and The Slugs has always been my happily and occasionally heartbroken little secret. Nobody knows about 'em and nobody knows I like 'em. Except, my wife, who hates them. And now you.

The Slugs released six albums, not including a hits package and Doug's solo stuff, and all but the first album and a "Hits" package are long out of print in the U.S.

Doug Bennett passed on in 2004, the victim of a bad heart and a worse liver at age fifty-three. He left behind a fine, intelligent, thoughtful, and most of all a witty and fun musical legacy. Hail Canada! This American bows to your gift.

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Faleena's Folly

The "answer" song, formerly popular in the Blues and Country genres, and now well-hashed in Hip Hop, has a long history, and there are many obscure tunes in the genre that aren't documented in the above link or in any kind of ordered scholarship.  This is the first in a sporadic series where we'll address some of these hidden gems of history.

And we'll start with what has to be the most meta of answer songs, a strange moment when an artist answers their own rather legendary tune.  

Marty Robbin's El Paso, released in 1959, is a monster.  One of thee great burnt desert songs, a tale of loss, murder and regret, wide open spaces cactus prickled and epic.

You know the song.  It's imprinted in you. It should be. 

In 1976, Robbins released the song El Paso City, in which the protagonist is flying over the city of El Paso, and, get this, he remembers a song called El Paso. Think about it for a minute.  Full of nimble guitar work, a killer Mariachi note, and a melody reminiscent of the original, the narrator relives the narrative of the original song, placing themselves into the very situation that occurred in the original, only from a remove, in the sky, over the scene of the crime, a viewer above.  He imagines himself in the situation ("Could it be that I could be/The cowboy in this mystery/That died there in that desert sand so long ago"), and becomes, in his mind, the very thing he is reacting to. Robbins is singing a song in which he references the singer of the song he had previously sung ("I don't recall who sang the song..."). Nicely done. 

 So...meta.  Weird and wonderful.  Two great songs that link in perverse and obvious connection, responding to themselves in a cycle that gallops a sand blasted sunset of a lost time and a world removed.  

And...damn you Faleena, he was a good man, consarnit!

Monday, August 29, 2016

Prefab Sprout - Donna Summer

I'm a sucker for well-crafted pop songs, especially ones that break your heart. I'm a sucker for Prefab Sprout.

While they/Paddy McAloon can be so awfully twee and saccharine (and occasionally broadwayesqueyour teeth hurt (yet still so delicious) more often they just make brilliant, sometimes odd, always sophisticated and classical pop (Cher covered a song.)

Prefab Sprout's album 
Two Wheels Good (called Steve McQueen outside of the issues, of course) ranks as one of my favorite albums of all time. 

The song Donna Summer was a b-side on the 12" ep for their hit song When Love Breaks Down (from Two Wheels Good). I found it in a little store in Spokane, Washington and when I first heard it I bet I played it 25 times in a row. It's gorgeous, melancholy, and far too short. Listen: