10 SONGS: 2/24/2023

10 Songs is a weekly list of ten songs that happen to be on my mind at the moment. The lists are usually dominated by songs played on the previous Sunday night's edition of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl. The idea was inspired by Don Valentine of the essential blog I Don't Hear A Single.

This week's edition of 10 Songs draws exclusively from the playlist for This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio # 1169. This show is available as a podcast.

HERB ALPERT AND THE TIJUANA BRASS: Casino Royale

As the pop world mourns the passing of the legendary Burt Bacharach, we decided to thread a tribute to Bacharach and his frequent songwriting partner Hal David throughout this week's program. I think we managed a nice blend of recognized prerequisites from the Bacharach-David songbook with a few less-expected choices in song and/or performer.

Our first strand of that thread was Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass' title tune from the all-star 1967 James Bond comedy Casino Royale. It's an instrumental, so you don't hear lyricist David's work here, but we chose the track deliberately as our snarky response to pundits who greeted news of Bacharach's passing with quotes from what they mistakenly believed were Bacharach's lyrics. Bacharach was the melody guy; he collaborated with gifted lyricists like David, and it's a disservice to those lyricists to assign credit to Bacharach.

Although Hal David passed in 2012, we wanted to pay equal tribute to David in our salute to Burt Bacharach. And, since "Casino Royale" does have lyrics--they're just not used in this instrumental version--the song is credited to Bacharach and David. And our Bacharach-David tribute was under way. With guns. And knives. We're fighting for our lives...!

STEVE STOECKEL: Mod Girl

In our position as hosts of The Best Three Hours Of Radio On The Whole Friggin' Planet, Dana and I possess the good sense, good taste, and good, good, good, good vibrations to be big fans of the music of Steve Stoeckel. Steve Stoeckel in the Spongetones? Check! Steve Stoeckel in Jamie and Steve? ALSO check! Steve Stoeckel in Pop Co-Op? Checkity-check-checkaroonie! Steve Stoeckel and his THIS IS ROCK 'N' ROLL Allstars? Duh. All good!

So of course we're delighted to expand that ongoing circle o' good with Steve's first-ever solo album The Power Of And. We've been playing stellar tracks from The Power Of And the past few weeks, and this week we got around to "Mod Girl." There's a lot of good stuff on this record.

And we got around to "Mod Girl" twice this week. We played the album track, and in the following set we played an unreleased a cappella mix that shows off the amazing backing vocals by Jamie Hoover and Elena Rogers. Goosebump City! We sure hope the good folks at Big Stir Records release this mix as well. And we'll play it again next week.

IRENE PEÑA: In This Room

Yes, it's America's Sweetheart Irene Peña! "In This Room" is my favorite among a big stack of sublime Irene Peña numbers, and it's available on her digital album Nothing To Do With You, and on our 2022 compilation This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 5. This particular spin was in anticipation of Dana & Carl's guest appearance on Irene's Twitch TV channel Irene Peña Music this coming Sunday, February 26th, at 7 pm Eastern. SUNDAY! We'll chat! We'll laugh! She'll wonder why she's wasting her valuable time on the likes of Dana & Carl! But she'll manage it all with a smile (or at least a smirk), because she's AMERICA'S SWEETHEART! We hope you'll join us on Twitch this Sunday, and then come back for TIRnRR as we open our show with another example of Irene's musical magic. Sweet is its own reward.

MIKE BROWNING: Blood Of Oblivion

We have played Mike Browning's fabulous current cover of the Rainy Daze's 1967 obscurity "Blood Of Oblivion" each and every week since its release as a single earlier this year. It is guaranteed a berth on our 2023 year-end countdown show. An act of Congress couldn't keep it out. It's taking a break next week, but we absolutely love it, and it will be back very, very soon.

JOHNATHAN PUSHKAR: Let's Get Small

Fab musician Johnathan Pushkar is into the Marvel Comics movies, and I think he's also into the comic books that spawned that cinematic universe. Me, too! I identify as more of a DC Comics guy in general--I'm BATMAN!!--but I love DC and Marvel superheroes as much as I love my rockin' pop music. Johnathan's new single "Let's Get Small" provides an opportunity to combine those interests, with an engaging li'l radio-ready ditty in tribute to the latest Marvel cinematic outing, Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania. Pop guys ASSEMBLE!

I go back a long, long way with Ant-Man. The current character (on film and on the comics page) is Scott Lang, but my Ant-Man in the '60s and '70s was Dr. Hank Pym. By the time I first saw the character in 1966, he'd already grown into being Giant-Man, a member of the Mighty Avengers. After my earlier introduction to Marvel with Sub-Mariner and the Incredible Hulk in Tales To Astonish, Giant-Man and his fellow Avengers the Wasp, the Mighty Thor, the Invincible Iron Man, and Captain America represented my second exposure to the Marvel Age of Comics.

This comic book was published in 1965. but I saw it in '66

I'm proud of my passions. At the still-(willfully) immature age of 63, I keep on blasting my music, reading my comic books, and seeing most of the new superhero flicks as they're released. Dig what you dig. 

A few recent purchases at Comix Zone in North Syracuse

Johnathan Pushkar gets it. Those who don't get it are just thinking too small.

GENE PITNEY: Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa

The Greatest Record Ever Made!

COLIN HAY: I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself

NANCY SINATRA: Wishin' And Hopin'

The results of playlist construction can surprise even the ones who construct 'em. It was a given that a Dusty Springfield track would be part of our Bacharach-David thread. I figured it would be Dusty's version of "I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself"...until I decided some intangible oomphability in ex-Men At Work frontman Colin Hay's rendition suited our needs better.

Right. So! Dusty's "Wishin' And Hopin'," a record I fondly remember from my childhood. Slam dunk choice. Then I heard Nancy Sinatra's version, and really wanted to include that. I wasn't gonna give up on Dusty--no way, no how--so her shimmering performance of "The Look Of Love" became our designated Dusty Bacharach-David.

During the show, we heard from listeners who regard "The Look Of Love" as Dusty's best record, and their favorite rendition of any Bacharach-David gem ever recorded by anyone. See, the playlist takes care of itself. Even when it surprises us.

THE RAMONES: She's The One

The American Beatles. The greatest American rock 'n' roll band of all time. For me, 2023 is the year of the Ramones. Sure, every year is another 1-2-3-4! Ramones year in these quarters, but especially so this year because of my Ramones book. As someone who's spent the last five decades wanting to write books, finally getting my first book published is a pretty big deal. I'm going to try not to be a boor about it, try to rein in my enthusiasm as much as I can, but...yeah, this is a pretty big freakin' deal.

But it was Dana who played the Ramones on this week's show. From the group's fantastic 1978 album Road To Ruin, "She's The One" was described in Bomp! magazine as the Ramones' best-ever fast song. Since the lads weren't especially known for their ballads, that's high praise. And it's another high-octane part of my year of the Ramones.

DIONNE WARWICK: Do You Know The Way To San Jose

We end almost all of our shows with at least one after-the-tag bonus track--WAITWAITWAITWAITWAITWAIT! We got a little more This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio!--to spin immediately after Dana and I have signed off for the week. Given our Bacharach-David tribute thread, this week's bonus also needed to be something from that songbook.

My original intent was to use the 5th Dimension's "One Less Bell To Answer" in this spot. As I thought more about it, and knowing that Dionne Warwick was often said to be Bacharach's favorite interpreter of his work, and even though we'd already played her superb rendition of "Walk On By," it felt imperative to end with a Warwick track. 

And it had to be "Do You Know The Way To San Jose." I remember the song from its hit heyday in 1968, which just happened to be the summer I made my first trip to California (a tale told as part of this long narrative of my life in the '60s). The track's sprightly, winning ambiance belies the capitulation expressed in its lyrics. 

Or is it capitulation? Granted, the singer in this story is ditching dreams of stardom in L.A. for a reset in San Jose, presenting a spiritual predecessor to the luckless would-be superstar catching a midnight train to Georgia in the classic '70s hit by Gladys Knight and the Pips. But both Dionne and Gladys see a path to a potential happy ending. There are many ways to succeed. Some of those ways include success on one's own terms.

Do you know the way? It seems that Dionne Warwick did know. Bacharach and David definitely knew. Whether a great big freeway like L.A. or a chance to really breathe in San Jose, Hal David's words teamed with Burt Bacharach's melodies to craft the sound of the American...no, the International Dream.

(I almost included a little snippet of me trying to sing the first verse of "Do You Know The Way To San Jose" before introducing Dionne's record as the way the song is supposed to sound. I thought better of it. I'm certain Dionne would have remained Bacharach's favorite. And rightly so.)

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Carl's new book Gabba Gabba Hey! A Conversation With The Ramones is now available for preorder, courtesy of the good folks at Rare Bird Books. Gabba Gabba YAY!!

This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.

THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE: Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa

Based on a previous piece, this was adapted for use in my long-threatened book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1), but is not part of that project's current plan.

An infinite number of tracks can each be THE greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Today, this is THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE!

GENE PITNEY: Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa

Written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David

Produced by Aaron Schroeder and Wally Gold

Single, Musicor Records, 1963

It might not take much for you to convince me that Gene Pitney records have existed throughout modern times, that Eliot Ness listened to "Town Without Pity" while planning his crusade against Al Capone, that doughboys sang "Last Chance To Turn Around" en route to the trenches in The War To End All Wars, that Doc Holliday whistled "(The Man Who Shot) Liberty Valance" as he neared the O.K. Corral, or that William Shakespeare's final thoughts within this mortal coil were of Pitney declaring "I'm Gonna Be Strong." I'd know you were lying, sure; but a part of me might believe it, only because I can't remember a time when I couldn't listen to Gene Pitney. Before the Beatles. Before I can recall hearing Elvis Presley, long before I heard Chuck Berry or Buddy Holly or nearly anyone else. As far back as I can remember, there was always, always Gene Pitney.

My earliest conscious memories date back to 1963, when I was three years old. I can remember watching as my crib was dismantled and put into storage. I remember being at the home of one of my Mom's friends in North Syracuse, and being given a choice of diapers or underwear; Speedos were not yet in popular use. I remember JFK, but only vicariously, through impressionist Vaughn Meader and his hit comedy album The First Family. I remember family and friends, playing outdoors and watching TV indoors. I remember music: LPs of original Broadway casts and 45s of rock 'n' roll, Chubby Checker on my Aunt Anna's hi-fi, the Four Seasons on the radio.

And, of course, I remember Gene Pitney.

My older siblings deserve the credit for my damned near in vitro introduction to Pitney. My brothers Art and Rob are respectively about 15 and 13 years older than me, my sister Denise eight years my senior. Much of the essential and prevailing pop culture I absorbed in the '60s came from them, and I can never thank them enough for that. I couldn't tell you which of them owned a copy of the Gene Pitney Sings World-Wide Winners album, but I can tell you that LP was in the family record collection in the same time frame as my crib demolition and The First Family's directive to vote for the Kennedy of your choice, but vote! 

And I can tell you that record got played. Before I could read, I could sing along with Gene Pitney's world-wide winners "Town Without Pity," "(The Man Who Shot) Liberty Valance," "I Wanna Love My Life Away," "Half Heaven Half Heartache," and "Hello Mary Lou." That last one, "Hello Mary Lou," was a song Pitney had written for Ricky Nelson, but I knew it as a Gene Pitney record. I don't remember hearing Gene Pitney on the radio, and I don't remember hearing him on the jukebox at The Moose Club, nor on other people's record players. At home? Yeah, I heard plenty of Gene Pitney at home.

For all that, I didn't follow Gene Pitney through the rest of the '60s. My sister Denise went to see Pitney in concert at The New York State Fair around '66 or so, but I wasn't even aware that she did. Nor was I aware of any Pitney songs after the familiar classics on that World-Wide Winners LP. I was aware of the Beatles, the Dave Clark Five, the Rolling Stones, Lesley Gore, the Monkees, the Archies. The closest I got to Pitney was second-hand, via the Royal Guardsmen's cover of "Liberty Valance" on the Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron album in 1967. I was in first grade by then. No need for a worldly first-grader to concern himself with the practically prehistoric sounds that walked the earth in the years before kindergarten.

My rediscovery and expanded appreciation of '60s music occurred when I was an adolescent and teenager in the '70s. Pitney wasn't necessarily high on my list of acts I needed to embrace and exalt immediately, but I got there in due time. Nonetheless, I always had a sense that Pitney was inherently...I dunno, worthy, special among pre-Beatles pop idols, neither a Frankie nor a Fabian, not an interchangeable poster boy, but real, essential, substantial. I couldn't have articulated any of that, but it was nonetheless something I knew.

A plank on my road back to Gene Pitney appeared when I was flipping channels on cable one day in the mid '70s, and I stumbled across Town Without Pity, a gritty 1961 film that opens with Gene Pitney's familiar title tune. Connection. Pitney's swing and swagger both contrasted and complemented the movie's grim tone; my ears were open. I don't think I found much to read about Pitney among the rock 'n' roll histories I was absorbing at the time; I eventually pieced together that he wrote "He's A Rebel" for the Crystals (in addition to penning Ricky Nelson's "Hello Mary Lou"), and I sought out the sound of Gene Pitney with my new best friend: oldies radio.

Oldies radio gave me "It Hurts To Be In Love." That became my favorite. As I finally grew old enough to visit bars and guzzle beer and badger DJs for songs to play while I didn't dance with any of the pretty girls there, an oldies bar called The Tip-A-Few became a favored hangout, and "It Hurts To Be In Love" became a favored request. I was well on my way to becoming a Gene Pitney fan.

I don't remember my actual first Gene Pitney acquisition. That family copy of World-Wide Winners was long gone, so I think my own Pitney collection began with either a used single-album best-of LP or a truly beat-up copy of Only Love Can Break A Heart; don't know where or when I snagged the former, but I definitely grabbed the latter out of the Get These GONE! bin at Gary Sperrazza!'s store Apollo Records in Buffalo in the early/mid '80s.

By the time I moved back to Syracuse in the late '80s, my appreciation of Gene Pitney had matured and blossomed. My wife and I had a chance to see Pitney live at the State Fair in '88 or so, and I knew we couldn't miss that. My sister accompanied us to that great show--full circle!

There was never a time when I didn't know at least some of Gene Pitney's music, no such thing as a period in my life where Pitney's music wasn't at least some small cherished part of the jumbled jukebox that plays within my easily-turned head. The old favorites remained favorites: "Town Without Pity;" "(The Man Who Shot) Liberty Valance;" "Half Heaven Half Heartache;" "I'm Gonna Love My Life Away." I discovered new favorites: "It Hurts To Be In Love;" "Last Chance To Turn Around;" "She's A Heartbreaker;" "I'm Gonna Be Strong." 

But ultimately it was a track on that World-Wide Winners album, a track I never paid attention to as a child, which became my go-to Pitney track: "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa."

If "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa" were a true story rather than a pop song, we wouldn't (or at least shouldn't) be happy with the events it describes. On paper, it's tough to sympathize with a ne'er-do-well who ups and ditches his long-time love because he runs into some hinge-heeled floozy when he's a mere day's travel away from home and hearth. 

Good thing we don't enjoy records on paper. 

This record is perfect in every respect, from Pitney's authoritative vocals through every small musical nuance of this incredible Bacharach-David number. The singer's a cad; we end up rooting for him anyway, damn us, because the performance is so winning, so masterful. On "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa," Gene Pitney has no peer on God's green Earth.

Gene Pitney was inducted into The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in 2002, an overdue recognition, though I was at least pleased to see Pitney inducted alongside my heroes the Ramones. He passed away in 2006. His music is with me forever. 

It always has been.

If you like what you see here on Boppin' (Like The Hip Folks Do), please consider supporting this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon, or by visiting CC's Tip Jar. Additional products and projects are listed here.

This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.

THE EVERLASTING FIRST: Gene Pitney

Continuing a look back at my first exposure to a number of rock 'n' roll acts and superheroes (or other denizens of print or periodical publication), some of which were passing fancies, and some of which I went on to kinda like. They say you never forget your first time; that may be true, but it's the subsequent visits--the second time, the fourth time, the twentieth time, the hundredth time--that define our relationships with the things we cherish. Ultimately, the first meeting is less important than what comes after that. But every love story still needs to begin with that first kiss.



This was originally posted as part of a longer piece. It's separated here for convenience.

It might not take much for you to convince me that Gene Pitney records have existed throughout modern times, that Eliot Ness listened to "Town Without Pity" while planning his crusade against Al Capone, that doughboys sang "Last Chance To Turn Around" en route to the trenches in The War To End All Wars, that Doc Holliday whistled "(The Man Who Shot) Liberty Valance" as he neared the O.K. Corral, or that William Shakespeare's final thoughts within this mortal coil were of Pitney declaring "I'm Gonna Be Strong." I'd know you were lying, sure; but a part of me might believe it, only because I can't remember a time when I couldn't listen to Gene Pitney. Before The Beatles. Before I can recall hearing Elvis Presley, long before I heard Chuck Berry or Buddy Holly or nearly anyone else. As far back as I can remember, there was always, always Gene Pitney.

My earliest conscious memories date back to 1963, when I was three years old. I can remember watching as my crib was dismantled and put into storage. I remember being at the home of one of my Mom's friends in North Syracuse, and being given a choice of diapers or underwear; Speedos were not yet in popular use. I remember JFK, but only vicariously, through impressionist Vaughn Meader and his hit comedy album The First Family. I remember family and friends, playing outdoors and watching TV indoors. I remember music: LPs of original Broadway casts and 45s of rock 'n' roll, Chubby Checker on my Aunt Anna's hi-fi, The Four Seasons on the radio.

And, of course, I remember Gene Pitney.

My older siblings deserve the credit for my damned near in vitro introduction to Pitney. My brothers Art and Rob are respectively about 15 and 13 years older than me, my sister Denise eight years my senior. Much of the essential and prevailing pop culture I absorbed in the '60s came from them, and I can never thank them enough for that. I couldn't tell you which of them owned a copy of the Gene Pitney Sings World-Wide Winners album, but I can tell you that LP was in the family record collection in the same time frame as my crib demolition and The First Family's directive to vote for the Kennedy of your choice, but vote! 



And I can tell you that record got played. Before I could read, I could sing along with Gene Pitney's world-wide winners "Town Without Pity," "(The Man Who Shot) Liberty Valance," "I Wanna Love My Life Away," "Half Heaven Half Heartache," and "Hello Mary Lou." That last one, "Hello Mary Lou," was a song Pitney had written for Ricky Nelson, but I knew it as a Gene Pitney record. I don't remember hearing Gene Pitney on the radio, and I don't remember hearing him on the jukebox at The Moose Club, nor on other people's record players. At home? Yeah, I heard plenty of Gene Pitney at home.

For all that, I didn't follow Gene Pitney through the rest of the '60s. My sister Denise went to see Pitney in concert at The New York State Fair around '66 or so, but I wasn't even aware that she did. Nor was I aware of any Pitney songs after the familiar classics on that World-Wide Winners LP. I was aware of The Beatles, The Dave Clark Five, The Rolling Stones, Lesley Gore, The Monkees, The Archies. The closest I got to Pitney was second-hand, via The Royal Guardsmen's cover of "Liberty Valance" on the Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron album in 1967. I was in first grade by then. No need for a worldly first-grader to concern himself with the practically prehistoric sounds that walked the earth in the years before kindergarten.

My rediscovery and expanded appreciation of '60s music occurred when I was an adolescent and teenager in the '70s. Pitney wasn't necessarily high on my list of acts I needed to embrace and exalt immediately, but I got there in due time. Nonetheless, I always had a sense that Pitney was inherently...I dunno, worthy, special among pre-Beatles pop idols, neither a Frankie nor a Fabian, not an interchangeable poster boy, but real, essential, substantial. I couldn't have articulated any of that, but it was nonetheless something I knew.

A plank on my road back to Gene Pitney appeared when I was flipping channels on cable one day in the mid '70s, and I stumbled across Town Without Pity, a gritty 1961 film that opens with Gene Pitney's familiar title tune. Connection. Pitney's swing and swagger both contrasted and complemented the movie's grim tone; my ears were open. I don't think I found much to read about Pitney among the rock 'n' roll histories I was absorbing at the time; I eventually pieced together that he wrote "He's A Rebel" for The Crystals (in addition to penning Ricky Nelson's "Hello Mary Lou"), and I sought out the sound of Gene Pitney with my new best friend: oldies radio.

Oldies radio gave me "It Hurts To Be In Love." That became my favorite. As I finally grew old enough to visit bars and guzzle beer and badger DJs for songs to play while I didn't dance with any of the pretty girls there, an oldies bar called The Tip-A-Few became a favored hangout, and "It Hurts To Be In Love" became a favored request. I was well on my way to becoming a Gene Pitney fan.

I still had a long way to go yet. I remember a late '70s trip to Shoppingtown Mall, my Dad waiting in the car while I ran in to accomplish some errand. I stopped to flirt with a girl I knew from school, and I stopped in the record store to flip through 99-cent cutouts. I picked up a couple of these under-a-buck treasures--the eponymous debut by The Real Kids, and the obnoxious noise classic The Residents Present The Third Reich 'n' Roll--but I passed up on a 2-LP set of the best of Gene Pitney. That was a decision I regretted immediately!



(I also recall visiting my girlfriend Brenda on Staten Island in the early '80s, and watching a band called Blue Angel on TV as they performed a terrific cover of Pitney's "I'm Gonna Be Strong." Blue Angel's lead singer was named Cyndi Lauper; we'd hear more from her before long.)

I don't remember my actual first Gene Pitney acquisition. That family copy of World-Wide Winners was long gone, so I think my own Pitney collection began with either a used single-album best-of LP or a truly beat-up copy of Only Love Can Break A Heart; don't know where or when I snagged the former, but I definitely grabbed the latter out of the Get These GONE! bin at Gary Sperrazza!'s store Apollo Records in Buffalo in the early/mid '80s.



By the time Brenda and I moved back to Syracuse in the late '80s, my appreciation of Gene Pitney had matured and blossomed. We had a chance to see Pitney live at the State Fair in '88 or so, and I knew we couldn't miss that. My sister accompanied us to that great show--full circle!



There was never a time when I didn't know at least some of Gene Pitney's music, no such thing as a period in my life where Pitney's music wasn't at least some small cherished part of the jumbled jukebox that plays within my easily-turned head. The old favorites remained favorites: "Town Without Pity;" "(The Man Who Shot) Liberty Valance;" "Half Heaven Half Heartache;" "I'm Gonna Love My Life Away." I discovered new favorites: "It Hurts To Be In Love;" "Last Chance To Turn Around;" "She's A Heartbreaker;" "I'm Gonna Be Strong." But ultimately it was a track on that World-Wide Winners album, a track I never paid attention to as a child, which became my go-to Pitney track: "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa."

Let me reprise something I wrote long ago about this unbelievable record: On paper, it's tough to sympathize with a ne'er-do-well who ups and ditches his long-time love because he runs into some hinge-heeled floozy when he's a mere day's travel away from home and hearth.  Good thing we don't enjoy records on paper.  This record is perfect in every respect, from Pitney's authoritative vocals through every small musical nuance of this incredible Bacharach-David number. The only thing I'll add now is that Gene Pitney's "Twenty Four Hours From Tulsa" is The Greatest Record Ever Made.

Gene Pitney was inducted into The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in 2002, an overdue recognition, though I was at least pleased to see Pitney inducted alongside my heroes The Ramones. He passed away in 2006. His music is with me forever. It always has been.



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Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-Op, Ray Paul, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith, Vegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie Flowers, The Slapbacks, P. Hux, Irene Peña, Michael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave Merritt, The Rubinoos, Stepford Knives, The Grip Weeds, Popdudes, Ronnie Dark, The Flashcubes,Chris von Sneidern, The Bottle Kids, 1.4.5., The Smithereens, Paul Collins' Beat, The Hit Squad, The Rulers, The Legal Matters, Maura & the Bright Lights, Lisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here.