The World's Worst Records

Released on Brunswick in 1959 – therefore predating Bobby “Boris” Pickett’s ubiquitous Monster Mash by three years – The Mummy by Bob McFadden and Dor was an early attempt to cash in on American obsession with horror movies, particularly the screen classics of the 1930s which padded out the late night line up of most TV channels. A silly little comedy song, The Mummy scraped into the Top 40 in September that year, but proved so popular that it spawned several cover versions and a note-for-note copy by Florida-based outfit Bob and Bobbi. It’s popularity also led to the song becoming attached to the Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee Hammer remake of the 1932 Boris Karloff classic The Mummy, with starlet Norma Marla touring the States with a sarcophagus, giving away copies to radio DJs, even though the track did not (and does not) appear on the film’s soundtrack.

The single’s popularity also led to Brunswick releasing a full-length album, Songs Our Mummy Taught Us, which appeared in the shops in February 1960.

Mcfadden, who would later provide the voice for cartoon characters Milton the Monster, Cool McCool and Snarf from Thundercats, was a well-known voice-over artist, famous for appearing on TV commercials for Wisk detergent and Frankenberry cereal. Dor would find fame under his real name; Rod McKuen (Dor is Rod backwards. Oh, how clever!) went on to earn a brace of Oscar nominations and a Pulitzer nomination for his compositions. McKuen's adaptations of Jacques Brel’s songs were instrumental in making the Belgian songwriter popular in the English-speaking world, whilst his own books of poetry sold millions of copies.

But there’s no way that Songs Our Mummy Taught Us would have ever earned the nascent poet and songwriter a major award. It’s just terrible. The haste in which this collection was thrown together is apparent throughout. The Mummy is ‘adapted’ (or, if you prefer, dicked around with) liberally; then-current dance crazes are sent up (poorly) and the rest of the album is made up of bad parodies – including two of the tracks I present for you today: The Children Cross the Bridge, a piss-poor piss-take of the Ingrid Bergman film Inn of the Sixth Happiness and the peculiar I Dig You Baby, which to me sounds like it was written by the bastard child of Jimmy Cross and Alan Titchmarsh.

Apparently McKuen later claimed that the uncredited backing musicians on the album were none other than Bill Haley and His Comets. Although the group were also signed to Brunswick this has never been confirmed. In 1961 McFadden and McKuen would regroup to record the single Dracula Cha Chabacked with Transylvania Polka– which, unsurprisingly, sank without a trace…an example of lightening resolutely refusing to strike twice.

Enjoy!

One of the few star DJs of the 70s not to be implicated in the Jimmy Savile sex scandal (so far), Dave Cash was born in Chelsea in 1942, although his family moved to Canada by the time he was seven.

While working as a copywriter for a Vancouver-based Men’s Wear Shop, Dave was offered the chance to record a radio voice-over when the original actor assigned to the job became ill. Cash was an instant smash and he was quickly signed up for more commercial work and the occasional presenting stint.

The burgeoning pirate radio scene brought Dave back to Blighty in the early 1960s, and he soon came to the attention of Radio London, where he teamed up with the late, great Kenny Everett for the Kenny & Cash Show, which became enormously popular and influential.

Dave left Radio London to join the even more influential Radio Luxembourg before, in 1967 becoming one of the first DJs heard on the fledgling Radio One. And it was here that Cash perpetrated the audio crime I present for you today.

Radio DJs in those days had an endless stream of regular jingles and fictional characters which they used to fill airtime or simply to give them space to think whilst reaching for the next piece of vinyl to whack on the deck. Who can forget Tony Blackburn’s Arnold, Jimmy Young’s Raymondo and the endless cast of crazies which spewed out of Kenny Everett’s fertile mind? Amongst Cash’s repertoire was a winsome toddler known as Microbe.

The voice of Microbe was performed by Ian Doody, who was son of Radio 1 newsreader Pat Doody. A huge hit on the show, his catch phrases (the ‘Knock Knock’ joke about Doctor Who and his signature ‘Groovy Baby’) are still known today by a generation (people of my age) who grew up next to the radio.

But Cash and Doody weren’t satisfied with radio stardom for Microbe – they wanted something bigger so, in 1969, the three year old Ian Doody was dragged off into a recording studio – along with backing singers Madeline Bell, Leslie Duncan and (allegedly) Dusty Springfield (although this seems highly unlikely as her career had recently been revitalised and she was making it big in the States at the time) to record Groovy Baby. Issued by CBS in the UK, by May of that year the single had reached the heady heights of number 29 in the charts. The song’s B-side Your Turn Now was credited to the Microbop Ensemble and featured Cash himself offering listeners the chance to imitate Microbe for their own amusement.

Cash left the BBC for Independent Local radio (ILR) in 1973, first at Capital where, with Everett, he relaunched the Kenny & Cash Show, before resigning in 1994 to spend more time writing and to develop his other interests. After six years he rejoined the BBC, presenting programmes for Radio Kent, Radio Cambridgeshire, and Radio Essex.

Enjoy!

Today’s tracks come from Tammy Faye Bakker, the late, over made-up kabuki doll wife (well, for more than three decades, anyway) of the disgraced televangelist Jim Bakker (pronounced Baker, apparently, not Backer).

We’re lucky here in Great Britain; we’ve never had to suffer (well, unless you’re a fan of the 50 or so religious channels available on Sky) the evil, pseudo-religious diatribe that spews across America’s cable television network day after day: poisonous preachers demanding money with menaces from gullible idiots who believe that they can pay their way to salvation. In the Bakker’s case it was the Praise the Lord (PTL) network and their ridiculous Christian theme park – Heritage USA - that systematically emptied the pockets of its parishioners and landed a tearful (and now, surprise, surprise, wholly repentant) Jim in jail. No wonder that many people insisted that PTL actually stood for Pass the Loot.

Jim and Tammy met when they were students at North Central Bible College in Minneapolis. The couple married on April Fool’s Day 1961 and, the following year, moved to South Carolina, where they began their ministry before heading off to Portsmouth, Virginia, where they became the hosts of Jim and Tammy, a children's Christian puppet show. Their success led to the pair joining Pat Robertson's Christian Broadcasting Network (CBN) in 1964, bringing their puppets with them. which they left in 1973 to form the PTL Club, an hour long Christian chat and variety show, which made its on-air debut in 1974.

During the PTL shows (later renamed the Jim and Tammy Show) Tammy Faye would often lead the obligatory evangelistic singalong – and this section proved so popular that Tammy Faye would go on to release more than a dozen albums (Jim and Tammy Faye also issued ‘joint’ recordings) of her dreadful caterwauling. Tammy Faye became known for her schmaltzy stories, hideous makeup (her eyes were often caked in mascara which would run as she turned on the tears) and her histrionic vocals style. Unusually, for someone on her chosen career path, she was an early advocate amongst Christian broadcasters of gay rights.

The Bakkers' control of PTL collapsed in 1987 when it was revealed that reverend Jim had been a bit naughty with the company secretary, Jessica Hahn, and reportedly used $287,000 of the church’s funds to buy her silence (that was a waste of money!). Further investigations into the Bakker’s extravagant lifestyle questioned their dodgy, and vastly oversubscribed, Christian hotel time-share scheme and the funds they had poured into their Christian theme park, Heritage USA.

With the couple in disgrace and Jim facing a stretch in jail, fellow televangelist and friend Jerry Falwell offered a lifeline, but under his stewardship PTL soon went bankrupt. In 1989 Bakker was sentenced to 45 years in prison on 24 fraud and conspiracy counts. Falwell and the (by now divorced) Bakker’s fell out, primarily it seems because Falwell was only interested in using PTL to boost his own television career, but also no doubt because the equally self-absorbed Falwell had the temerity to call our Jim a liar, an embezzler, a sexual deviant, and “the greatest scab and cancer on the face of Christianity in 2,000 years of church history”. Phew!

Jim and Tammy Taye divorced in 1992; a year later she married former PTL bigwig Roe Messner – the man who provided Jim with the cash to pay of Jessica Hahn and who claimed, during the bankruptcy hearing for PTL, to be owed $14 million by the church. Messner filed for bankruptcy himself in 1990 and, just like his former friend Jim, wound up being convicted of fraud.

Today’s first cut Jesus Keeps Takin’ me Higher and Higher is from the awful (and hideously-titled) Tammy Faye: Tammy Bakker sings PTL Club Favorites. Tammy Faye had an okay voice when it came to singing the country-inspired gospel she usually stuck to, but ramping it up on this track (fondly known to fans as Disco Jesus) she’s beyond awful. The second track – The Ballad of Jim and Tammy– is Tammy’s own countrified take on the whole Jerry Falwell/PTL/Heritage USA saga. Tammy Faye may have hated Falwell at this point (the song was released in both 7” and 12" formats in 1987) but, despite their very public falling out, she managed to find enough Christian charity to forgive him before his death in 2007, two months before Tammy Faye herself passed away after an 11-year battle with cancer.

And just because I’m feeling generous today, I’m giving you a third track from Tammy Faye – the ridiculous Run Toward the Roar from her 1980 album of the same name. Hideous.

Enjoy!

First up, an admission. I do not own a copy of this record (although I wish to God I did); I originally found it when scuffing around eBay recently looking for oddities to purchase on your behalf (it went for $86…well out of my price range!)

Issued in 1972 on the obscure Pennsylvania-based Country Boy Records (as CB-102) by Donna Kramer, the Velvet Underground-esque Bowl of Cherries was backed with the country ballad My Memories of You. The backing band is woefully out of tune on the B-side but it’s just a dull slice of standard-fare country: it doesn’t have the wonderfully inept, garage band joiedevivre of the lead track.

Country Boy Records was owned by one Howard Vokes; the company appears to have issued a handful of 45s (the only other ones I’ve found listed are CB-103 by Bill Beere and CB-106 by Mel Anderson). Vokes had been a recording artist himself, his first 45s were issued in 1960 credited to Cowboy Howard Vokes and the Country Boys, and the Vokes’ canon includes the brilliantly-titled It Takes Six Men To Carry A Man To His Grave (But Only One Woman To Put Him There), issued on his own Vokes Records in 1970. That same year he launched his second imprint, the short-lived Country Boy label, named after his own backing band.

Little is known about Donna Kramer. I can tell you that she hailed from Hyde, Pennsylvania, and that she performed live on at least one occasion with Vokes and his band: Vokes held a residency at the Griltz Hotel, Verona (PA, not Italy) and three years after her debut 45 she sang as part of his regular Sing, Neighbor, Sing review. Kramer told the Clearfield Progress newspaper that she hoped to sign with Vokes’ other label, the previously mentioned (and nationally-distributed) Vokes records, but it appears she would never record again. That’s all I’ve got. There are a number of Donna Kramers still living in Pennsylvania, but I’ve no idea if any of them is the same Donna Kramer who wrote and performed this brilliant little disc.

Enjoy!

Here’s a nice slice of bad country and western I picked up recently, courtesy of the otherwise unknown Frank And Tom– Port Griffith, PA.

I know so little about this record it’s embarrassing! I can’t even tell you when it was issued, although the Knox Coal Mine cave-in which is documented on the A-side and in which 12 people died occurred on January 22, 1959, and the Airy Music Company (credited as publishers of this masterpiece) seem to have been most active around 1961-62, so it’s safe to assume that the disc appeared at some time around the beginning of the 1960s.

Put out by Mask Records, with writer credits Frank M – Tom M on the A-side and Frank M on the flip (maybe Frank and Tom Mask?) the B-side is a straightforward piece of Hillbilly Christian inanity - titled I Wish I’d Been on Earth - with little to recommend it apart from the flat vocals, but I particularly like the percussive effect on Port Griffith, PA, which sounds to me exactly like one of those ill-fated miners chipping away at the cave wall with a pick as his life slowly ebbed away.

If anyone out there has any more info on this awful record please do let me know.

Enjoy!

This week’s post was prompted by regular WWR contributor Ross Hamilton: thanks Ross!

Charles Eugene “Pat” Boone– who has claimed to be the great-great-great-great grandson of the American pioneer Daniel Boone - was born on June 1, 1934 in Florida, but grew up in Nashville, Tennessee, where his family moved to when he was just two years old. He left school in 1952 and less than a year later, shortly before his 19th birthday, married Shirley Lee Foley. The couple are still together today.

He began recording in 1954 – managing to fit in a burgeoning career around his college studies (he finally graduated college in 1958). Boone became a huge (and I mean enormous, second only to Elvis in record sales during the 50s) star: his safe, wholesome image won him a long-term advertising contract with General Motors and the company sponsored his hit TV show The Pat Boone Chevy Showroom, which ran for three years and 115 episodes. At the time Boone was the youngest host of a prime-time TV variety show and would remain so until Donny and Marie Osmond launched their show in 1976.

Early on in his career he made the decision to concentrate on covering R&B and rock ‘n roll songs by black artists, toning them down for the white American market. In 1955 his version of Fats Domino's Ain't That a Shame was U.S number one hit, and his covers – although bland and sappy, stripped of sex appeal and with the lyrics bleached clean – did much to help sneak black artists into the back door of middle America’s homes. Hearing these songs covered by a good, Christian white college boy encouraged others to follow suit: Doris Day and Frank Sinatra have both covered Boone’s covers (if you see what I mean). Some of the accompaniments are rather fine: he certainly had a powerful and accomplished studio band, but his vocal performances are Ned Flanders’ nice, with no energy, vigour or danger. His insipid album of Elvis covers – Pat Boone sings…Guess Who? is simply embarrassing. This is rock n’ roll for people who don’t like rock ‘n roll.

He also hit it big on the silver screen, with roles in a dozen movies; however his conservative Christian beliefs made him (or his management) back away from songs or roles which they felt would harm his career. A complete Renaissance man, in the early 1960s he began writing a series of self-help books for adolescents, including the bestselling Twixt Twelve and Twenty, and his likeness was licensed to DC Comics, who gave him his own (short lived) series which began in 1959.

During his career he has sold over 45 million albums and has enjoyed 38 Top 40 hits in the U.S, but by the time he hit 30 it was all over. His cover of Rolf Harris’s Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport failed to set the charts alight and the British Invasion in 1964 all but ended Boone's career as a hit maker, thankfully. Unable to compete on the charts with the likes of The Beatles and – apparently – starting to turn to the bottle he switched instead to gospel and country music, no doubt influenced by the fact that Boone’s father-in-law was country great Red Foley. The Boone family toured as gospel singers and made gospel albums; Boone founded the Christian record label Lamb & Lion Records and made plans to open a centre exclusively for Christian musicians.

And that was that. Or rather that would have been that if it hadn’t been for his bizarre decision, in 1997, to release In a Metal Mood: No More Mr Nice Guy, a collection of heavy metal covers. He’s since followed that with an album of classic R&B covers. Boone’s version of the Ozzy Osbourne classic Crazy Trainbecame (in a cover-of-a-cover version) the theme to MTV’s hit series The Osbournes, and the two families were next door neighbours for three years. Not everyone thought this peculiar move was funny: an appearance at the American Music Awards dressed in black leather and a priest’s dog collar caused him to be dismissed from Gospel America, a TV show which he had presented for several years…although a grovelling apology in which he declared that his aim was to parody his own squeaky-clean image caused Trinity Broadcasting to reinstate him.

In recent years Mr Boone has turned his hand to political punditry, whose particular stock in trade is repeating the oft-cited claims that Barak Obama is an African-born Muslim and a Marxist bent on destroying American society. In 2010 it was announced that the Pat Boone Family Theatre would open in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina the following year, featuring a 600 seat auditorium and a Pat Boone Museum. As of today the theatre has still to open.

So, on to the music. And today I’m bookending Pat’s career with a couple of his earliest attempts at rocking out and one of the most recent: his whiter-than-white version of Little Richard’s blisteringly brilliant Tutti Frutti (which appeared on the charts in 1956 at the same time as the original and, to the world’s shame, was a bigger hit). As an interesting side note, it is said that one of the reasons Little Richard co-wrote Long Tall Sally was that he wanted to produce a record that was so fast that Pat Boone could not possibly cover it…although, unsurprisingly, he did and, in doing so, created what must be one of the worst cover versions of all time! Hear it now in all of its toe-curling glory.

Finally here’s his 1997 version of Dio’s Holy Diver, featuring no less than Ronnie James Diohimself on backing vocals.

Enjoy!

Today’s coupling comes from the stable of song-poem stalwart Tin Pan Alley, courtesy of the uniquely untalented Madelyn Buzzard: Our Own USA - a fine piece of flag-waving patriotism - and its terrible, tuneless flip What Will Love Do?

But what do we know about Madelyn Buzzard – apart from the fact that she simply cannot sing? There’s absolutely no info out there on the internet, and nothing in the Billboard archives – TPA had long since stopped advertising their wares there.

Her name first appears in the Tin Pan Alley catalogue around June 1968, while the company was still operating from its Broadway offices. During this period, post the passing of TPA founder Jack Covais but before the company moved to Florida, TPA employed a number of sub-standard vocalists, but none quite as inept as our Madelyn. This particular coupling appears to have been one of her final releases: of the half-dozen 45s I’ve been able to track down, all appear to have been issued in the summer of 1968.

An actress by the same name appeared in the cult horror Three on a Meathook (based loosely on the real-life story serial killer Ed Gein), the Blaxploitation drama Combat Cops (as Whore #1) and on stage in a number of plays including Twelfth Night and Here Lies Jeremy Troy– but is she the same person? No doubt someone out there knows.

Enjoy!

One of the few 70s stars not implicated in the Jimmy Savile sex abuse scandal (well, so far at least) David ‘Diddy’ Hamiltonhas become a regular face on TV all over again: he’s one of the few presenters of the 1978 editions of Top Of The Pops that the BBC can still broadcast without fear of giving airtime to a paedophile.

Born in Manchester in 1938, Hamilton began his career as a broadcaster in 1959. He appeared with comedian Ken Dodd in the early 60s TV show Doddy’s Music Box: Dodd gave the height-challenged Hamilton the ‘diddy’ nickname, which has stuck ever since. He was one of the earliest DJs on Radio One, joining the station in November 1967, and he stayed with the BBC until 1986. Since then he has had regular shows on independent radio in the UK.

Like a great number of his colleagues – including Savile – David Hamilton had no shame when it came to flexing his tonsils in the recording studio. In 1973 he released this abomination - Just Like That - on the short-lived Dart label, written and produced by Harold Spiro, who had previously worked with Herman’s Hermits, the Yardbirds, Olivia Newton John, Cliff Richardand many others. He also co-wrote the dreadful football anthem Nice One Cyril.

But back to David. This audio turd seems to have been purpose built to be a bad record, with its dreadful, out of tune kiddy choir, stupid lyrics (which give Hamilton plenty of opportunity to showcase his terrible Tommy Cooper impersonation) and an accompaniment built around a f******g banjo and a euphonium! It’s vile. The B-Side, Have You Heard the News is a stupid anti-nuclear song framed as a news report. And its almost as bad: the kids are still there (damn them!) and Hamilton’s plaintive, off-key vocal makes me want to retch. Just the thing to ruin your weekend.

Enjoy!

Probably best remembered by anyone under 40 for her cameo as the Fairy Godmother in the Adam and the Antsvideo Prince Charming, Diana Dors was born Diana Fluck in Swindon in 1931. Once one of the most famous and recognisable women in Britain, at one point Diana was feted as Britain’s answer to Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn died young and became an icon: unfortunately for Diana her early promise as an actress will forever be overshadowed by lurid tales of abortions, miscarriages, relationships with criminals, battles with her weight, and by her reputation as an orgy-throwing, drunken pill popper.

At 16 she was signed to the Rank Organisation: in her early films her chest was often strapped down, and her hair was its natural shade of brown. She made a bunch of unsuccessful films, but her stage appearances led to her winning Theatre World magazine's Actress of the Year Award.

In 1951 Diana met Dennis Hamilton Gittins (usually known as Dennis Hamilton), marrying him only five weeks later. There was little that the unscrupulous Hamilton would not do to further her career or to increase the income he derived from it. Her appearance became markedly similar to Marilyn's; she took on roles similar to hers and quickly became known as "the English Marilyn Monroe." Hamilton made sure that her name, and stories of her lavish lifestyle, were seldom out of the tabloids. It’s even been suggested that Hamilton would pimp Diana out to influential actors and producers.

Chances to star in several US-made movies were ruined by Hamilton: once when she refused to divorce him and move to the States and later when Hamilton turned down parts without bothering to tell her. The result was that her early promising career was restricted from this point forward to mainly British films. When she did finally make it across the pond Hamilton again ruined her chances by punching out a photographer at a party where celebrities including Doris Day, Eddie Fisher, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Liberace, Lana Turner, Ginger Rogers and John Wayne were invited. The following day’s headline in the National Enquirer read Miss Dors Go Home – And Take Mr Dors With You. Despite that, Dors managed to squeeze in an affair with Rod Steiger whilst the pair were filming The Unholy Wife.

She managed to get shot of Hamilton, shortly before his death in 1958 but not after he virtually bankrupted her, forcing her to take on a cabaret tour to pay her bills. After a string of affairs she married comedian Richard ‘Dicky’ Dawson, but the pair divorced in 1966. Two years later, and with her two sons Mark and Gary thousands of miles away in America with their father (who would go on to be a major star on US TV), she met and married the actor Alan Lake. Their relationship was stormy, not helped by Lake’s heavy drinking and stint in prison for his part in a pub brawl, but it lasted right through until her death, from cancer, in 1984. Five months after she died a distraught Lake took his own life in the bedroom of the home they shared.

But back to the music. Diana’s single Where Did They Go was issued as the first release (Nom 1) on manager and producer Simon Napier-Bell’sown Nomis Records. Napier-Bell’s own illustrious career includes managing the Yardbirds, John’s Children (featuring a teenage Mark Feld aka Marc Bolan), Japan, Ultravox and Wham! He’s also co-author of the English lyrics to the Dusty Springfieldhit You Don’t Have to Say You Love Meas well as of several books about his long career in showbiz. Diana had made a stab at recording several times: first way back in 1951 with the single I Feel So Mmmm, which she followed with her one and only album, Swinging Dors, in 1960.

This miserable offering was issued in 1982 and it’s shocking: she sounds like a third-rate drag artist looking back over an all-too short life and wishing he’d drunk more booze and shagged more men. It’s little more than a poor Those Were the Daysripoff – albeit 14 years too late - and everyone involved in this should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves. Knowing that Dors was battling cancer at the time might add a sheen of poignancy but it’s still horrible. The arrangement is poor, the musicianship workmanlike and dull and the disc’s label incorrectly credits co-writer Gloria Sklerov as Sklervo: it’s all a bit ham-fisted. The track was originally performed by Peggy Lee on her 1971 album of the same name, and had previously been covered by Sandie Shaw.

The B-side is no better: It’s You Again is a dull-as-dishwater duet with her son (now a TV producer) Gary Dawson, here billing himself as Gary Dors; his paper-thin voice no match for her weather beaten, booze-and-fags weariness. Worryingly, the pair are singing a love song, but not a song about maternal love…

Ewww.

There’s a statue of Diana outside Swindon’s Shaw Ridge Leisure Complex. Sadly, the end-of-terrace mural of her and other local notables – including all five members of XTC – that once dominated a Swindon street is no longer extant.

Enjoy!

I’ve become a bit obsessed with Joe Meek recently.

For those who aren’t already acquainted, the Newent-born Robert George ‘Joe’ Meek was the studio genius behind such hits as Telstar and Johnny Remember Me. He was also a crazed loon (his paranoia knew no bounds); quite possibly an undiagnosed schizophrenic or suffering from what we now recognise as bi-polar syndrome. Sadly Joe was unable to get the medical help he so clearly needed: using the shotgun left in his flat by his muse Heinz Burt he took his own life, and the life of his long-suffering landlady, in February 1967.

Joe wrote, arranged, engineered and produced an amazing body of work: although it did not receive a full release during his lifetime (just 99 copies of one EP and 20 test pressings of the full album were ever produced) I Hear a New World, his visionary 1960 outer space opera, is now recognised as the first true concept album of the rock era. It’s a record I’ve been in love with ever since I first heard it more than 20 years ago.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been reading the rather excellent biography Joe Meek: the Telstar Man, listening again to his recorded legacy and re-watching the 1991 BBC documentary about him. In short, alongside the docu-drama Telstar and other material I’ve been drowning in a sea of Joe Meek material. A lot of it is simply fantastic. Unfortunately there’s a fair amount of dross in there too, which brings me quite succinctly to this week’s record.

Girl Bride was written and performed by Geoff Goddard, produced by Meek and arranged by him too (under his regular pseudonym Robert Duke). As Duke Joe composed the B-Side, For Eternity. Released in October 1961 on HMV, Goddard was better known as a songwriter and musician than as a performer (although he would issue four singles under his own name between 1961 and 1963), writing Johnny Remember Me and the Heinz hit single Just Like Eddie, playing (uncredited) keyboards on Telstar and, after falling out with Meek, writing for Cliff Richard.

His deep interest in spiritualism, an interest shared by Meek, influenced much of his work. The pair are supposed to have warned Buddy Holly of that date on which he would die and, once he did, have regular conversations with him from beyond the grave. Certainly a large percentage of Meek/Goddard material shows a heavy Holly influence, vis the Mike Berryhit Tribute to Buddy Holly and the hiccoughing vocal on Girl Bride.

Girl Bride is a horrible song. The subject matter is dodgy, to say the least – an adult has run off with an underage girl and made her his wife despite the protestations of her family and community - and Goddard’s attempt at falsetto cannot fail to make you cringe. Unsurprisingly, and despite what other sources may claim, it was not a hit. The B-side is equally appalling; certainly not one of Meek’s better efforts. It’s hard to think how anyone at HMV could have considered Goddard as teen idol material – his voice is simply appalling. For his last 45, Sky Men (Meek was obsessed with space travel and the idea of life on other planets) Joe sped up Geoff’s voice and slapped on thick coats of echo and reverb in an attempt to disguise its weaknesses. It too failed to chart.

Goddard and Meek’s successful partnership was brought to an end when Goddard attempted to sue Joe over Meek’s song Have I The Right, which was recorded by the Honeycombs and provided Joe with his last chart hit, which Goddard believed was cribbed wholesale from his own song Give Me The Chance– although, unfortunately, no recording of that song has surfaced to date so it’s impossible for us to compare and contrast the two. They would never speak again. At least not in this world. The story has it that, burned by his association with the music industry, Geoff voluntarily retired: his final job was working in the kitchen at Reading University. While there he discovered that Johnny Remember Me had been covered by Bronski Beat(with Marc Almond), had been a major hit and that there was a large royalty cheque and a platinum disc waiting for him.

Geoff died in 2000: if anyone out there fancies a spot of table tapping and manages to make contact please say ‘hi’ for me.

Enjoy!

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Slotting in quite nicely after last week’s Joe Meek selection, today’s offering – Headin’ for Armageddon– comes from the late Willis Meyers. A pretty naïve and rather stupid record about how only Jebus’s dad can save the world from nuclear holocaust, it’s enlivened no end by the ridiculous, sub-Meek bleeps, no doubt pasted on in post-production to simulate the sound of the world coming to an end.

Willis M. Meyers (1911-1989), was a Country and Western ‘entertainer’, better known for his regular appearances on local radio than for his recorded output. Playing guitar and singing with his band, Willis Meyers and the Bar-X Ranch Boys, he could be heard on WSAN radio (Allentown, Pennsylvania) every Saturday in the late 1930s - by the mid 40s the band could also be heard on rival Pennsylvania stations WEEU and WNAR as well - and the group were a popular act at local fairs, schools and carnivals for many years. Apparently at some point Meyers, who also appeared on WSAN with the rather wonderfully-named Bunkhouse Al, had picked up the odd nickname ‘the double yodelling cowboy’, although I can only guess why.

Willis was married for over five decades to Mabel (nee Musselman), who often accompanied her husband on vocals; the pair celebrated their 51st wedding anniversary just a month before his death. In addition to entertaining Willis had been a drill press operator for the U.S. Gauge Division of Ametek Inc (an international company making electric motors and electronic instruments) from 1939 until retiring in 1976.

Headin’ for Armageddon and its dull B-side were put out by the Arzee Record Co of Philadelphia, owned by singer and songwriter Rex Zario (R-Z) who was born Rosario Lefavi in Italy in 1925. Zario, who passed away in 1991, had enjoyed a local hit in 1956 with Go Man Go, Get Gone, which he revamped six years later to cash in on the dance craze as Go Man Go, And Twist.

Interestingly, the track was co-written by James E Myers– the co-writer of Rock Around the Clock: Meyers and Myers do not appear to have been related. However Meyers and his group were signed to, and cut several sides for, Cowboy Records in 1947, the same label that Bill Haley and his early band The 4 Aces of Western Swingwere signed to. He also authored the Willis Meyers Family Hymn Book: 31 Hymns Arranged Especially for Quartets and Soloistsin 1954.

Enjoy!

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British bad music fans will know Dickey Lee from his awful 1965 near-hit Laurie (Strange Things Happen), a staple of the old Kenny Everett Bottom 30 and featured on the very compilation which inspired the name of this blog. Laurie, for those who do not know it, is the tale of a weedy teen, a pissed-off father and a spectral sweater stealer – a teen death disc in the very best tradition of Jimmy Cross’s I Want My Baby Back or John Leyton’s Johnny Remember Me (sorry for that last reference, I’m still a little Joe Meek-obsessed!)

Laurie is an awful disc. Dickey Lee’s feeble voice is reed-thin and whiny: he comes over like a spotty teen whose voice is in the process of breaking, even though Lee was fast approaching his 30^th birthday when the disc was issued. But it’s also a great disc, redolent with bad taste and stupid lyrics. You’ve got to love it.

Dickey Lee was no stranger to bad records. His first hit, released three years before Laurie is a miserable little affair called Patches (not to be confused with the Clarence Carter record of the same name, although in my book that’s easily as bad). With a central theme shamelessly ripped off from Johnny Preston’s hit Running Bear, Patches tells the story of a pair of lovers from opposite sides of the tracks who end up drowning – one possibly accidentally, the other on purpose after hearing of his girlfriend’s watery end. It’s another fine example of the bad taste that would blight (or enhance, depending on how you look at it) Lee’s career.

Born Royden Dickey Lipscomb on September 21, 1936 in Memphis, Lee made his first recordings in 1957: his debut, Stay True Baby was issued on Tampa Records; he later moved to Sun for a pair of 45s, Good Lovin’ and Fool, Fool, Fool. While he was issuing these early sides he was studying at Memphis State University on a boxing scholarship.

Despite his early attempt at stardom, before the success of Patches he was better known as a songwriter, having composed She Thinks I Still Care, which has been covered by George Jones, Elvis Presley, Connie Francis and many others. Because of the teen suicide theme, Patches was banned by a number of radio stations in the US and by the BBC. In spite of that it still went on to sell over one million copies.

After Laurie, Lee would only score a brace of minor chart hits in his home country before switching styles to country. Since the early 70s he has composed or co-composed tracks for a great number of artists including Emmylou Harris, George Strait, Brenda lee, Jerry lee Lewis and Reba McEntire. He’s also had 30 hits in his own right on the US Country charts. Dickey was inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1995.

So here are Dickey’s two biggies: Patches and Laurie. Enjoy!

I can't tell you a great deal about this particular record - other than it stinks, of course. In a month when Britain is melting - enjoying or suffering it's biggest heatwave in decades - all we need is someone praying for more sun!

Red Williams began his recording career, for Dot (the same company that put out Pat Boone's work), around 1961 and it took him a full 25 years to come up with this classic. He also recorded for Decca and for the legendary Sun label (his I'm Losing You has noting whatsoever to do with the John Lennon song of the same name, despite what AllMusic might tell you!)

It seems that the poor man's singing career didn't provide enough dosh to support him and his family: when he wasn't performing he earned his crust working as a TV repair man.

Released in 1986 on the small, Memphis-based Stairway label, the Farmer's Prayer is just horrible: oh look at us, we're dirt poor but we don't complain. All we want is a little more sunshine. Please God, help a fellow out. Bleugh! How three people have the temerity to take a writing credit for this slice of crap when it was composed around an uncredited riff stolen wholesale from Johann Pachelbel is beyond me.

If anyone out there has any more info on this record please do share - otherwise, enjoy!

A few weeks ago, at the behest of regular contributor Ross Hamilton, we had a look at the career of Pat Boone. Little did I know how large a can of worms I was opening.

Mr Boone's career is littered with atrocities: take the two nasty pieces of work presented here today.

First up is The Wang-Dang Taffy Apple Tango, easily one of the most stupid recordings it's ever been my misfortune to own. Released in 1959, when Pat was the second-biggest pop star in the world, this piece of nonsense was co-written by Aaron Schroeder, founder of Musicor Records, manager of Gene Pitney and writer of 17 songs for the biggest pop star in the world - Elvis Presley - including Stuck on You and It's Now or Never. This garbage, originally released in the US as the B-side to For A Penny, actually made it to number 63 on the Billboard chart. Some people will buy anything.

A few years later, long after his pop career has dissipated and before he became a born-again rock 'n' roll bad boy, Pat launched his own record label - Lamb and Lion - and released a slew of Christian-themed waxings...the most horrid of which has to be The Hostage Prayer. Issued in early 1980, in response to the Iran hostage crisis, when 52 Americans were held hostage for 444 days after a group of Islamist students and militants supporting the Iranian Revolution took over the American Embassy in Tehran, at the time Pat claimed that he "decided radio stations needed some type of song asking God to provide for the hostage's release". Clearly God doesn't get country radio in heaven: it took another year for the hostages to achieve freedom.

Based (uncredited) on the tune to Abide With Me, this sucks. Pat performed the song in front of an audience of thousands at a rally in Washington in April 1980 but it did little to help this mess rise up the charts. Makes Cliff Richard look positively threatening.

Enjoy!

I’m particularly pleased with today’s find: not just because it’s dreadful, not simply because it comes from my home town, but also because, rather pleasingly, it has an association with Pat Boone.

Straight Talkerwas Amaziah’s one (and, thankfully, only) release. Issued on the self-financed Sonrise label in 1979, and today apparently fetching anything up to £1000 in collector’s circles (according to Mark Allan Powell's book the Encyclopaedia Of Contemporary Christian Music), its genesis was almost as tortured as the vocals. The name Amaziah comes from an ancient king of Judah: apparently it literally translates as 'strengthened by the lord'.

Amaziah began as a 20-member outfit, a choir with its own seven-piece backing band, formed as Bristol Youth for Christ initially to perform at a Christian show, Come Together, which featured Pat Boone as its narrator and was being staged at Bristol's famous Colston Hall. The musicians involved decided to carry on when the original production of Come Together left town and soon became well known on the West Country Christian music circuit. However by 1978 the choir had gone and Amaziah had become a six-piece Christian rock band with only two of the original members - Derek Elliot (lead vocals) and Richard Grinter (rhythm guitar) - left. Elliot and Grinter, along with manager Christine Kerslake and preacher (and, according to Loader, de facto leader) Eric Cribb decided to advertise for new, younger members and brought in teenagers Jeremy Coad (guitar and vocals), Paul Loader (bass), Dave Steel (keyboards) and Phil Williams (drums).

Recorded at Bristol’s Sound Conception studio, the release of Straight Talker encouraged Cribb and the younger members of Amaziah to dump the remaining two original members and take the band professional. At the same time Coad, who had taken time out of his studies to work with the band, decided to accept a place at medical school. Picking up a replacement guitarist the band went on a European tour but by the end of 1980 it was all over. According to Paul Loader, writing for music blog www.crossrhythms.co.uk, the band weren’t even invited to their own party, held in celebration after their final homecoming gig.

But back to the album. It’s not completely horrible, for the most part it sounds like exactly what it is, a bunch of youngsters playing prog rock, influenced heavily by outfits such as Christian rockers After the Fire. What really lets Straight Talker down are the ugly vocals. Derek Elliot’s limited range is completely unsuited to the ambitions of his young, raw recruits. The production doesn’t help either: the lead guitar and keyboards sound like they were bought that morning at Woolworths. When the album was reissued in Canada they put a photo of the wrong line up on the front of the sleeve.

Why then the demand for this record from American collectors? It’s a complete mystery. Anyway, here are a brace of tracks from Straight Talker, Way, Truth, Life and Night Walker, the opening cuts on side one and side two respectively.

Enjoy!

Here’s a wonderful little oddity I found on eBay recently and felt compelled to share with you.

There’s something wonderfully engaging about Ellen Marty’s recordings: she doesn’t have a great voice (well, not by classical standards), and often sounds as if she’s about to slit her wrists. Her lyrics are, at times, distinctly peculiar, but I actually find her rather charming. I’m almost loath to include her here at the World’s Worst Records, but if I didn’t how would you get to discover her charms for yourselves?

Ellen recorded intermittently, both under her own name and as Buttons, the nom de plume she affects here. There are at least three Buttons 45s on the Rain Coat label and several others under Ellen’s own name on Raincoat; Rain Coat and Raincoat are the same company, owned by Joe Leahy. Leahy, a bandleader, arranger, writer and producer, had previously headed Unique Records (later known as RKO/Unique, the same outfit that put out Leona Anderson’smighty Music to Suffer By) where he had produced 14 year-old Priscilla Wright’s first hit The Man in the Raincoat…hence the name he chose for his company. Ellen also recorded an album, Mixing and Making, for her own Marty Records. That album included a cover of the Man in the Raincoat (retitled Man in a Raincoat), which was later issued as a 45 (catalogue 601) on both Raincoat and Marty records under its correct title. Confused? Ellen issued the 45 Bobby Died Today which, unsurprisingly, has nothing to do with the death of Bobby Kennedy. There are no dates on any of these releases, but most appear to have been issued in the early 60s.

The 45 I’ve chosen here – A Petal a Day/Baby Blue Eyes– is a fine example of her slightly off-kilter world. I love the B-side, with its wailing police sirens and jaunty tack piano accompaniment, and the little giggle in Ellen’s voice towards the end is a real winner. The more subdued plug side, A Petal a Day, is a miserable little ditty about unrequited love whose lyrics clash ridiculously with the jolly backing track. It’s downright odd, and much more worthy of inclusion here: it’s just not as much fun as side two.

Enjoy!

Easily one of the oddest things I've ever brought you, today's track is Dion DiMucci's peculiar folkie version of the Jimi Hendrixclassic Purple Haze.

You'll all remember Dion. You may well have cut a rug to his big hits: Runaround Sue, Teenager in Love and The Wanderer. It's even possible that you know that he recorded the original version of the Marvin Gaye classic Abraham, Martin and John. However its less likely that you'll know the follow up...the unmitigated flop (it barely scratched the charts, reaching a miserable Number 63 in the States) that you can hear here.

Issued in January 1969, it really is a mess. I don't buy in to the idea that this unusual interpretation was a brave move: it's a disaster. It's trying to be clever but it fails miserably. To me it sounds like a bored club singer riffing along to the tune of Puff, the Magic Dragon. From a man who cheated death several times - he was due to be on the plane with Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Richie Valens and for many years battled a king-sized heroin addiction - you'd expect his performance to be a bit more life affirming. I didn't bother to upload the B-side, The Dolphins, as it's just plain boring.

A born-again Christian who these days - at the age of 74 - practices ministry in prisons and uses his own dark experiences to inform his work with addicts, he's still recording: he's been nominated for a Grammy twice in recent years. Rightfully revered as one of the elder statesmen of Rock 'n Roll, let's just hope he never does anything this horrid again.

Enjoy!

A couple of weeks ago I introduced you to the wonderful Ellen Marty, composer and chanteuse who released a series of what can only be described as eccentric 45s in the 1960s. Since I first became aware of her work I've been doing my level best to find out as such as I can about her career. To be honest, it's not much.

Of Swedish descent, Ellen Marty's real name was Mary Ellen Mart. She appears to have started writing songs at an early age, copyrighting her first compositions in the late 1950s. Living and working in Hollywood - she kept an office for her publishing company, Lycklig, at 1216 Cole Ave, Los Angeles - she also appeared in at least two films, Spring Affair in 1960 and House of Women in 1962. Mary Ellen chose the name Lycklig for her publishing company as it's the Swedish word for 'happy': the company was still operational in 1980.

Ellen seems to have made most of her recordings pre-1966, releasing 45s under her own name and as Buttons. Although she recorded several sides as Buttons there's no connection between her and the female vocal act The Buttons who recorded for Dot and Columbia around the same time, nor with the act of the same name who recorded for RCA later in the 1960s. There are at least three Buttons 45s on the Rain Coat label and several others under Ellen’s own name on Raincoat; Rain Coat/Raincoat was owned by Joe Leahy, a bandleader, arranger, writer and producer who set up the Unique Recordslabel (which would soon become RKO/Uniqueand issue Leona Anderson’s collection Music to Suffer By). At Unique he had discovered the 14 year-old Canadian singer Priscilla Wright and had a sizeable hit with her debut waxing The Man in the Raincoat: both Ellen Marty and Joe Leahy would later cover this song, and its title would inspire the name of his own label. He left Unique a year or so after the RKO buyout to go to Dot (home, of course, of WWR favourite Pat Boone). An odd coincidence – and a major point of confusion for Ellen Marty collectors - is that Joe was one of Dot's lead A&R men during The Buttons time at the label: I wonder why he never told Ellen Marty that? Perhaps he did. There’s a distinct possibility (in my mind at least) that Ellen may have recorded as Buttons in an effort to emulate some of the success of The Buttons.

There’s something delightfully appealing about Ellen Marty’s recordings: her voice is unconventional (to say the least), veering from a kittenish whisper (as on Lovetime) to that of a truculent teenager (vis Bobby Died Today) and – as I originally noted in my first post about her work – she occasionally sounds as if she’s about to slit her wrists. Her lyrics are distinctly odd (On a day that was warm I decided to be born), and her sense of scansion and timing is often at odds with what pop record buyers are used to (as in the odd, hiccoughing rhythm of Give Me a Raincheck, Baby for example), but the more of her work I discover the more in love with her I am becoming.

Listed below are all of the Ellen Marty/Buttons waxings I have been able to track down so far. If you know of any others please do get in touch.

Marty EM 101: Mixing and Making - Man In a Raincoat/You're Such a Comfort to Me/Johnny Red/I Wanna/This Time of Year//Our First Date/Don't Ask Me, Don't Bug Me/Your Words Were Sweeter/I Wish I Knew/Mixing & Making (1965)

Number unknown: All of These Things You Are to Me/Worth a Wait (1959)

Rain Coat 702: A Petal a Day/Baby Blue Eyes (as Buttons)
Rain Coat 703: The Barn is So Far From the Steeple/Lovetime (as Buttons)
Rain Coat 704: Little Mouse in the House/Such a Sad Face (as Buttons)
Marty 102: Xmas Gift/I Wanna (1964)
Raincoat 601: Man in the Raincoat/You're Such a Comfort to Me (1964)
Marty 601/602: Man in the Raincoat/This Time of Year (1964)
Marty 603: Don't Ask Me, Don't Bug Me/This Time of Year (1964)
Rain Coat 100: Do You Ever Think of Me?/Paper Planes
Rain Coat 109: Bobby Died Today/Give Me a Raincheck, Baby (1966)
number unknown: Cats Have Whiskers/Super-Dooper-Ooper-Pooper (1966)
number unknown: Billy Back (mentioned at Dead Wax)
I have also seen Mixing and Making listed as a 45, but this may be a mistake

Finally, and as there will not be a WWR post next Friday, here are three of Ellen’s 45s for you to enjoy and to keep you going until we meet again: The Barn is So Far From the Steeple and its B-side Lovetime; Little Mouse in the House and Such a Sad Face, and the brilliantly mad Bobby Died Today(Hey hey! Hey hey! Hey hey!) coupled with Give Me a Raincheck, Baby.

Enjoy!

Fans of old movies, and anyone who’s ever watched a western on a wet Saturday afternoon, will have fond memories of the actor Walter Brennan. Forever the amiable, often irascible, sidekick (as he was to John Wayne in the classic Rio Bravo), Brennan is the only actor ever to win three Best Supporting Actor Oscars – and one of only three actors to win three Oscars throughout their careers (the other two being Jack Nicholson and Daniel Day Lewis, fact fans).

Born in 1894, Brennan began acting in vaudeville at the age of 15, but it wasn’t until the late 20s that he started getting bit parts in the movies: apparently he was forced back into acting after losing the fortune he had made in real estate during the stock market crash. He appears, uncredited, in Horse Feathers (the Marx Brothers), TheInvisible Man and Bride of Frankenstein amongst countless others, but it was his role in the Howard Hawks/William Wyler drama Come and Get It (1936) which first brought him to prominence, and won him the inaugural Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. In a career that spanned almost 50 years, his ‘grumpy old man with a heart of gold’ shtick added colour to many a movie and, from the 1950s, he was a popular star of American TV, with the lead role in early sit-com The Real McCoys.

But we’re not interested in his acting prowess: oh no! For Walter Brennan also released more than a dozen (honestly! A dozen!) albums. After narrating an album of Mark Twain tales in 1956 and continuing with the obscure By The Fireside, his recording career got off to a real start with the 1962 release Dutchman’s Gold. Many of these records – with their painful, hokey, homespun, spoken word performances – sold by the bucket load and even garnered him a couple of hit singles the biggest of which, Old Rivers (the tale of a young boy’s friendship with an older man and his mule), made the US Top Five!

Many a non-singing artist has released a spoken word performance but I can’t think of one who has released quite as many and with so much commercial success. However by the dawn of the 1970s Brennan’s recording career had dried up: one of his last albums (apart from compilations and film soundtracks) was the bizarre, right wing political polemic He’s Your Uncle – Not Your Dad which tore strips off the LBJ administration. The whole album is available for you to download at WFMU. His last foray into the studio produced his final album, 1970’s Yesterday When I Was Young

So here’s a smattering of cuts from Walter Brennan, including both sides of his biggest hit Old Rivers/The Epic Ride of John H Glenn (which I was lucky enough to pick up whilst on holiday recently and which charts the career of the first American to orbit the earth), and his horrific version of the Mel Tills/Kenny Rogers classic Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town.

Enjoy!

I’m pretty sure, despite encouragement to include such people as Wild Man Fischer, that I’ve ever featured people who were clearly mentally ill in this blog before: deluded, certainly, but not fit to be institutionalised.

Until now.

Before last week I had never heard of Jerry Solomon. Now he’s becoming something of an obsession. According to his own short autobiography, Jerry was ‘born in San Diego, California and lived in Boyle Heights from age 1-4. Later we moved to West L.A. where I went to grade school and attended Hamilton High. After high school I had a job delivering fur coats. Then I got into show business, singing, dancing, and doing comedy routines.

‘In my 30's I was maliciously given a dangerous drug as a "joke" and suffered brain and heart dysfunction. Over a ten-year recovery period, in the last few years, I've regained to some extent, my former function and am writing a book about my experience.’ That book – A Drug Free Life and a Glass of PCP– is available now.

Jerry somehow managed to record several albums, including Past the 20^th Century(Fountain, 1971), Live at the Show Biz(Fountain), and Through the Woods(1973, label unknown) (UPDATE: according to record collector and private press archivist Mike Ascherman, Jerry's recorded output consists of 3 LPs and 13 45s and EPs). They are all completely insane; Jerry rambles, croons, hoots and shrieks through his material like a crazed psychotic. It’s no surprise that Andy Kaufman was reputedly a fan. Very few copies of these albums exist: so sought after are they that when they do come up for sale it’s usually for stupid money. Most come without sleeves: when they do have covers they are usually handcrafted by Jerry himself and often have photocopied inserts or doctored photos taped to them.

Outsider music which defines the genre, according to Swanfungus.com (where the image, above, comes from) Jerry is a ‘real person extraordinaire…with his highly chromatic melodies and overdubbed harmonies, Jerry sounds like a late ’50s vocals group from the Twilight Zone. His self-accompaniment consists of a repetitive one-chord (maybe two) guitar strum that predates Jandek and a toy piano that is ‘strummed’and sounds like a lysergic zither from the Third Man soundtrack. The songs range from nostalgia for the earlier years of his life to total despair.’ (UPDATE: this quote, from Mike Ascherman, originally appeared in the book Acid Archives)

What’s really frightening about these records is that they were recorded BEFORE Jerry’s mind wet AWOL: he states (in his short story Living in an Altered State) that his overdose happened in 1977. Hell, if he was recording this kind of acid casualty stuff before he fried his synapses what on earth would have been the results of a recording session during his lost decade?

Now aged 70, pretty much fully recovered from his journey into the unknown and calling himself a ‘performance artist’, Jerry is still desperately trying to carve a showbiz career for himself. He recently auditioned (unsuccessfully), for America’s Got Talent, singing a self-composed song about Viagra to the tune of O Sole Mio. In the past he had his own cable show – a couple of uncomfortable-to-watch clips are on YouTube.

Here are a couple of cuts from Jerry seminal masterpiece Past the 20^th Century. Enjoy!

Mummy, You're A Wreck

Not So Groovy Baby

Disco Jesus

Life is Just a Bowl Of Cherries

Behind the Mask

Awopbopaloobop

Buzzard's Circling

Just Like That

Shut the Dors

The Meek Shall Inherit

Don't Wanna Die In A Nuclear War

Strange Things

Oh Me Farmers!

A Bit More Pat

Bristol's Christian Rock Gods

The Ellen Show

Purple Mess

Six of the Best from Ellen

Ruby! Don't!

King Solomon's Rhymes