The Analog Kid’s iTunes music folder contains over 83,000 songs, but even a collection that large has some true one-hit wonders and/or obscurities. In this continuing series, I will feature an artist that has exactly one song in my entire library. After all, one is the loneliest number…
Morris Albert: “Feelings” (Louis Gaste/Morris Albert)
From the album Feelings
RCA Records, 1975
My family moved back to the San Fernando Valley in 1975 after three years in Dallas. My mom got us a cheap apartment in Tarzana, and we had very little money. I entertained myself by shooting baskets at the apartment complex playground (I used to play entire games by myself, usually pitting the 1975 UCLA Bruins against the hated Fighting Irish of Notre Dame), and of course I listened to the radio and played my 45s.
Despite our lack of money at the time, my mother would always give me a couple of dollars for my Saturday ritual: a walk down to The Wherehouse, a giant record store located on Ventura Boulevard. It was probably only about a half-mile from our apartment, but to my little legs it seemed like ten. (Yes, Mom let me walk down one of the busiest streets in the United States alone. At the age of eight. Hey, it was the ’70s. Kids did shit like that.)
I didn’t buy a lot of albums during this time. After all, albums cost a lot of money. 45s, on the other hand, were 99 cents. And trust me, The Wherehouse was THE place to buy 45s. The singles didn’t sit on an open shelf like at other stores– they were actually behind the counter in what looked like a giant mail room. Every week, The Wherehouse put out a printed list with the Top 100 singles. I would stare at the list forever, trying to decide which two precious pieces of vinyl to purchase. When I had finally made my choice, I would approach the counter and order by number.
“I’ll have #3 and #13, please.”
Then I’d run home and play my new treasures (front and back, of course) until the grooves wore out. The next Saturday, I would do it all over again. As you might imagine, I built up quite a 45 collection during our years in Tarzana (1975-1978). I owned just about every hit single of the era, including some truly terrible selections (“Run Joey Run,” anybody?).
I never bought “Feelings.”
Even eight-year-olds know true crap when they hear it.
The first rule of The Analog Kid blog is that if you write about a song on the Analog Kid blog, you share the song on the Analog Kid blog.
David Geddes: “Run Joey Run” (Paul Vance/Jack Perricone)
From the album Run Joy Run
Big Tree Records, 1975