Tonight's selection from the paint-spackled paws of this Polish painter comes from
John Fred and His Playboy Band. It's a funky little one-hit wonder that was dismissed by serious music afficianados, but word is even the Beatles liked this parody of Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds. Here, for your dining and dancing pleasure, is
"Judy in Disguise With Glasses."
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About those speeded up songs. I once worked at a small-market AM station that speeded up the music using turntables that ran at about 48 and 37 RPM. This was accomplished using some kind of electrical devices (votage regulators?) under each turntable. These BUFs looked like they came straight out of the power generating plant in Lewiston. Problem was, there was one turntable (#2, on the right) that damn near electrocuted me one Saturday night.
TT2 was like a giant capicitor and I was the poor SOB who became the grounding rod. Everything was fine if the tone arm was carefully lifted and placed on the LP or 45 without touching the metal turntable or turntable housing. Easier said than done. Touch the tonearm and the metal housing simultaneously and Zapppppp! 110 Volts along and a vicious pop in the q-speaker.
After about two hours and half a dozen jolts, I called the Chief Engineer (who was more than half in the bag.) He says, "Write it up and I'll look at it Monday." I called the PD. He says, "Work around it." Work around it??!!
Around 9 o'clock, I had my fill. I began pulling plugs and wires and by-passed the DJ Electrocution Box that speeded up the songs on TT2. Problem solved. But TT#1 runs at 37 and 48 on the left and TT#2 on the right that runs at 33 and 45 on the right. If ever you wanted to hear a pronounced difference in songs, one after another, you should have heard that.
The PD called half an hour later. "What have you done to MY radio station?" ???
I told him he had a choice: A jock who was electrocuted while on the air or a jock who could finish his six hour show and still come to work on Monday. He tells me to put the dynamo back in line or there'd be no job for me on Monday. Fine! I put it back in line. Necessity being the mother of invention, I began scouting around the station for anything that would insulate my hands. In the janitor's closet I find (drum roll) latex gloves that were probably used for scrubbing toilets. I did the remainder of the shift wearing these ugly yellow (although form-fitting, I must say) latex gloves. Problem solved. At midnight, my hands reeked of... ehhh... let's just say the aroma of clogged J-bends. It took about a half dozen washings to remove that funky aroma.
I suspect we won't hear stories like this from voicetracks or when the music comes off a 500 gig hard drive.
