Record Store (What's That?) Employment, Forgotten Refrigerators, and That Cutout LP - Part 2

A close friend, reading Part 1, went into the deep recesses of his memory to pull out a couple of gems from way back when. Mike, his real name, a friend since junior high school, worked with me at the store, and reminded me that Deena had a vicious Doberman that she would often unleash to roam the store. Not sure what she was thinking, but on many occasion the sight of a sleek Doberman, with its tail and ears cropped, running through the aisles would absolutely clear the store, and have us employees seeking safe refuge, usually on top of the counter! Once she realized that an intimidating guard/attack-type dog wasn’t all that good for business, she would lock it in the back room, which was still unpleasant for all of us. Guess it’s good to be the Queen. Eventually we convinced her to leave her “weapon” at home. Mike also reminded me of an extremely-odd colleague and a favored customer, both long forgotten.

As I mentioned previously, working at the store had its ups and downs, but little to complain about when part of your job is comprised of selecting record albums to play in-store over a sound system far superior to anything I owned back in the day. The record company sales reps would provide the store with promotional copies of new releases, typically referred to as “cutouts,” due to a visible hole punched through the album jacket. The words “Promotional Copy, Not for Resale” was prominently displayed where the manufacturer’s suggested list price would be. These were provided free-of-charge for in-house play with the hopes that customer’s hearing the new material would request a copy to purchase. Promotion at its best!

I recall Asylum Records debuting two huge releases on the same day: Bob Dylan’s Planet Waves and Joni Mitchell’s Court & Spark. We played the Dylan and Mitchell LP’s to death, and quickly sold out. I loved and wanted both cutouts, but due to the popularity of both albums, they had to stay in the store for quite a few months, so being impatient, I used my employee discount and purchased my own copies.

Often the sales rep would provide cutouts of obscure artists, hoping that in-store play would help promote and generate sales. Deena’s contention was that we needed to play only new releases, which would add to our shrinking revenues. In her words, we didn’t need to promote Sargent Pepper or Exile on Main Street; They would sell themselves. It was the obscure that would generate additional sales, so we were encouraged to play the cutouts. Even so, unless Deena was in the store breathing down our necks, we had our limits of what was considered acceptably obscure.

To the untrained eye, one could easily tell an obscure artist, even if they knew nothing about music. When a new shipment arrived, we likely would receive only 1 or 2 retail copies, but still received a cutout for in-store play. Contrast this against the non-obscure whereby we would order 8-10 copies to start. If the band or artist was in the superstar strata, we’d order 5 - 10 cases.

One evening, while reviewing the stack of recently delivered cutouts, I initially saw nothing that jumped out at me. I mentioned to a colleague that the new cutouts yielded little of interest. He was surprised by my comment as he said he thought he saw a new Neil Young LP in the stack. In 1973 a Neil Young release would’ve been considered a major event; surely no Neil Young album had been released; we would’ve know it long in advance and would’ve expected it on the day of release. Besides, Harvest, which was released a good year earlier was still selling very strong. My curiosity though sent me back to the stack to see who he might have mistaken for Neil Young.

Midway through the stack I came across Warner Bros 2676, Last Stage for Silverworld, by Kenny Young. I of course knew of Neil Young; knew Jesse Colin Young, leader of The Youngbloods, but Kenny Young was new to me. While I had no immediate desire to listen to the LP,  I was taken aback by the album jacket artwork. It portrayed a scene from the future, identifying it as 1997 (24 years into the future), and presented in an animation form that resembled a newspaper cartoon frame. The artwork depicted a Jetsons-esque world, complete with flying cars and high rise buildings shooting into the sky. Remember, this was the artist’s vision of 1997, not 2097, so it peaked my interest. Could we be living like George Jetson before the new millennium?

Reviewing the titles of the tracks, it appeared very ordinary. One track, Under the Boardwalk, was certainly a cover version of the Drifters hit from the early-mid 60s. Had the internet been around (it probably was in the artist’s 1997 vision) I would’ve looked Kenny Young up, but with no ability to do any real research, I placed the cutout on the top of the stack and went about my tasks.

We were compliant with Deena’s wishes that new releases get played in-store only when she was in-store. If she wasn’t, which was more times than not, we played anything we wanted, in a very democratic fashion. Each employee would queue up their choice as soon as the last employee’s choice was exhausted. Luckily for us, the counter had an unobstructed view of the long, plate-glass front window, so we could see all comings and goings, including when Deena would round the corner from the rear parking lot. Whoever was behind the counter would instantly check to see what was playing on the sound system; if it wasn’t new and relevant, we had about 30 seconds to change it and not face the wrath of the boss.

One such day, as I was in the back of the store I heard a quick change on the turntable, which indicated Deena was arriving. I certainly do not remember what was playing at the time, but the substitute record, which I had never heard, stopped me in my tracks. Literally. The sounds I was hearing stopped me from forward or backwards movement, due to equal parts confusion and delight. Confusion because I needed to know what I was listening to, as the first few notes of the first track sounded as if it was the intro to a classical version of The Stones Under My Thumb. Delight because the opening track, Amanda in a Silverworld, instantly became favorite all-time song #2, right behind Under My Thumb. You know that magical feeling when you discover a favored song for the first time; that's what happened here.

I can readily admit that left to my own volition, I would’ve never crossed paths with this album. No way. The artist was obscure, he didn’t tour, and the LP received no airplay. While I had a pair of buddies who prided themselves on finding and knowing the most obscure artists in the world, they had no clue who Kenny Young was. Had I not been employed by the record store, or, if we had never received a cutout copy, I simply would have no knowledge whatsoever about Last Stage for Silverworld.

To properly explain this album, we need to fast-forward to 1981 and review another obscure artist on Warner Brothers, Christopher Cross. Cross was basically a little-know, regional folk singer from Austin who when paired with a dynamic producer, a studio full of highly-compensated, top-notch studio musicians, and upbeat rearrangements of his work, produced several Grammy's including Album of the Year. Last Stage was treated in a similar manner by Warner Brothers, although it never received much love from the critics, the radio stations, or much commerce at the cash register.

In Last Stage for Silverworld, Warner Brothers pulled out all the stops, bringing in an array of studio musicians recognizable to any rock music aficionado at the time. The impressive line-up of the top studio guys in LA includes Dean Parks and Wayne Perkins on guitar, Rabbit Bundrick and Joe Sample on keyboards, Wilton Felder and Leland Sklar on bass, Russ Kunkel on drums, and Jim Horn, Bobby Keys and Jim Price on horns. Young co-produced with Robert Appere. Find it on your favorite music site and give it a listen. If you hate it, you simply have no heart for beautiful music.

The entire LP works, with the story of Amanda in this futuristic world, flowing conceptually and delivering tasty hooks song by song. In mythical Silverworld, the Blue Men are in power; they separate the populace by zodiac sign. The only part of Silverworld that the Blue Men don't totally control is the Forest, where the dweller's minds cannot be controlled. Amanda, who's father is a Blue Man, falls in love with Teyo, Navajo of the Forest. In the end, Silverworld is overthrown.

Had the premise of the LP been described to me without any mention of the sweet music involved, I'm sure I would've never been interested in a single listen. My somewhat closed mind as a teen would've never tolerated a story at the intersection of science fiction and fantasy, two genres that I had absolutely no interest in at the time, or for that matter, today. Had this LP been released in 2003 as  opposed to 1973, it, in all likelihood, could only find a home on a New Age label.

 Other than the afore-mentioned Amanda in a Silverworld, highlights include Play Electric Waters, Wake Up Navajo, possibly the only rock song in music history with a recorder solo, Teyo-Starlight Scorpio, a new age-y title if there ever was one, and Pisces Babies. Hell, the entire LP is an 11 on a scale of 10. Oh, and Under the Boardwalk is not a cover version, because Kenny Young co-wrote the song with Arthur Resnick for the Drifters in 1964. This may be the most unique track on the LP as it begins as the original recording, heard through what sounds like a grainy transistor radio, only to morph into the modern, jazzier version. Young has always been a prolific songwriter, penning Ai No Corrida for Quincy Jones, Arizona for Mark Lindsey, a million seller in 1970, and many more during his illustrious writing career. All told he wrote nine Top 10 songs and charted on an additional 14. Being somewhat "behind the scenes" as a successful songwriter contributed to his overall obscurity as a performer.

Kenny Young, 2016

In the review of the album on AllMusic.com, Joe Viglione says, “Last Stage for Silverworld makes the grade and demands study – it’s really an extraordinary work that somehow got away.” I love this recording and it has made the cut on every “desert island disc” list I’ve compiled since the LP was released; that’s 45 years! I often wonder how many other obscure recordings (that I'd possibly love) may have got away merely because I never had the opportunity to listen. There are certainly others that would appeal, but to be one of the very few to lay claim to this recording, I’ll gladly sacrifice what I have yet to hear.

Kenny Young, thank you!