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Posts tagged ‘Sydney’

Nov 20

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The best of the fringe and all of the backbone – Mojo Music, Sydney Australia

Mojo Music in Sydney Australia – The Kings of the Back Catalog.

They gots the best of the fringe and all of the backbone…

If you followed me at all on The 6149, you know that one my fave rave places, where some of my fave rave people in the world inhabit, is Mojo Music – located in Sydney, Australia.

Mojo is a real-deal, salt of the earth, bow-down good ol’ fashion record shop. The owner, shopkeep and resident maestro of the Mojo vibe is Nev … but, I call him the Kingfish.

I was recently contacted by a reporter from one of Australia’s top newspapers, The Sydney Morning Herald, and was asked to give my thoughts on Mojo as to why I think it was so special. This reporter did a bit of a search online and had seen my many blog posts on Mojo.

Here is what I wrote:

It is usually around 4:30pm on a Friday that I start to get the fever; I start to get the Mojo itch. It has been just over two years since I moved from Sydney to London, UK. Even now, try as I may, I still can’t scratch the itch that was my regular, four year long Friday night visit to Sydney’s Mojo Music.

I am from New Hampshire, USA. I moved to Sydney in 2005 and lived there for five years. I am a passionate music fan.  I love listening to, talking about and sharing my music. It wasn’t until the end of my first year in Sydney that I found Mojo. I remember walking into the shop for the first time; I had found my home away from home; these were my people; they listened to the same sounds; they told the same stories; they fanned the same flame. This was a place where my music became our music.

On first sight, to virgin eyes, Mojo would look like what it seems to be: a relic record shop still hanging on to the notion that people want to buy their music on CD or vinyl, let alone buy it at all. But, to the been-around-the-block, knowing-eye crowd, Mojo is the true music fan’s promise land: a place where people gather to immerse themselves in the music that they love: to listen to it, to share stories about it and to turn others on to it.

“If you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit all your friends…” – Penny Lane, Almost Famous.

For four years my Friday nights started off, and most often ended up, at Mojo. After work I would get home, drop off the car and walk to Mojo. On the way I would pick up a six-pack of Cooper’s Sparking Ale (the unofficial beer of the Mojo Men) and bring it to the shop. I would meet there with regular “Friday Guys” and we would spin tunes, spin yarns and back-slap and tip back beers until after-hours became the wee-wee hours. Mojo wasn’t just my local record shop, it was part of my life.

Mojo exists for one reason: Nev Seargent. Nev is the owner of Mojo. In fact, Mojo is Nev. The look of the shop, the product sold at the shop and the vibe of the shop … it is all Nev.  Nev sets the tone and has established the ethos: Mojo is all about the “real” and the “authentic” and that goes for all the music, the people and the and feel that exists in the shop; there is no pretentious bullshit at Mojo.

Nev is a good mate. I call him “The Kingfish”. I copped that term from a Randy Newman song of the same name. In the song, The Kingfish is a New Orleans mayor, a man of the people, someone that gives the finger to the establishment and puts the needs of the people of first.

Kingfish, Kingfish
Friend of the working man
Kingfish, Kingfish
Who’s gonna save this land
It’s the Kingfish, baby, that’s who…

That is what Nev is doing. He is doing his part to keep the music shop alive and well … saving this land. When the music industry tells you that big box music stores are dying, that streaming music is the new buying music and that people just aren’t that invested in music anymore … Nev says, “oh yeah, there are still some of us left and I’m going to give ‘em a place to go.”

People go to Mojo, that is for sure. There are Thursday and Friday night regulars, people who make personal pilgrimages and those that wander in having been lured by the music that plays out on to the street.  As Nev likes to say, Mojo Music has the best of the fringe and all of the backbone.  That applies not only to the music they sell, but also the people they serve.

There is always music being played at Mojo. Starting around 5:00pm there is a crowd gathered around the front counter listening to it. People come in to find a lost album or get turned on to what ever it is that Nev has playing on the front-burner. If you are in need of a recommendation … Nev knows just what you need. Many times I have said to Nev, “I’m looking for this kind of sound and feel … you got anything for me?” Inevitably, The Kingfish always knew just what I wanted. He would walk over to one the CD racks … straight to a specific spot … pull out a CD and say, “You got this one? You know of this cat? You need this.” His picks were always spot on.

I purchased a lot of Nev’s picks over the year; my music collection was better off for it.  There was a definite correlation between time spent at Mojo and cash spent at Mojo.   Buying my music at Mojo was always a pleasure. Not only did I add great music music to my collection, I was also giving back to Nev and the shop. Nev has created something special and everyone that goes there knows this. We all give back by supporting the cause. Once Mojo gets under your skin, you just can’t ignore it.

Under your skin … there’s that itch again.  Two years on and I’m still trying to scratch it. Currently I work in London. My office is riight next to Soho. Soho has a handful of great used vinyl shops. On Fridays after work I take the long way home, wandering in and out of the shops to see if I can find any buried treasure.  I usually find a few records that I take home to play, but what I can’t find is that Mojo feel; no one calls out my name when I walk in these shops; there are no friends there waiting to play me the latest re-release or or newly found used original Chess Records pressing on vinyl; there are no cold beers waiting for me in the fridge; there is no back-slapping and story-telling; there is no walking out the door with Nev at midnight and shutting the lights and closing the door behind us. There is only one Mojo and it is in Sydney, Australia. The “lucky country” indeed.

Mojo is a one-off; a mutation; an anommoly.  It is a place that still cares about the shared experience of listening to music. Not the kind of pseudo sharing that is done on the web. We’re talking real-deal, face-to-face, ear-to-ear, flip the record over sharing.  You go there for the music and you walk out part of a community of music loving Mojo Men. Someone has to keep that feeling alive, right? Some one has to continue to fan those flames. Someone … but, who?

The Kingfish, baby, that’s who.

Nov 5

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Sick Rock Funk: Black Merda – The Best Rock & Funk Band You’ve Never Heard of

Brothers and sister…brothers and sisters…I have been to the mountain top and I have heard the TRUTH! And, that truth is goes by the name of Black Merda. Yes, that’s right…Black Merda. What’s that? You’ve never heard of them? You’ve never heard their deep, rumble-funk, rock and roll groove. Hot, hot damn…are you in for some shit. 

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To be honest with you, I had never heard of these four black-cats until about year three of my five year stint way, way down south of  the (almost every) border in Sydney, Australia. For those of you new to the 6149 scene, I lived there for five years up until September of 2009.  Sydney was a great experience. What made it a bow-down experience was my time spent at Mojo Music…The Kings of the Back Catalog. 

Mojo is a record shop in Sydney. They only stock “the best of the backbone and all of the fringe”.  It is owned by a very good friend of mine name Nev. I call Nev “The Kingfish” (yes, after the Randy Newman song that Levon helm covered on his latest album, “Electric Dirt“). I spent almost every Friday night for four of my five years in Sydney at Mojo. I was a “Friday Guy” (regular). There were “Thursday Guys” as well, but mostly we were all one big Mojo family. 

The rule was (still is) you show up between 5-6pm and you had to bring your own beer and whatever else you wanted to ingest. After that, anything went. We would stay until 11pm drinking beers, spinning records, watching videos and swapping stories. The music always took center stage: endless discussion on “what period was best”, “who was better”, “that lick was insane”, etc. The Kingfish has deep, DEEP knowledge of the Blues, R&B, Jazz and (for lack of a better term) classic Rock and Roll. Yes, Mojo is a bit of a time machine, but that is why we all went. 

When I first met Nev, he started turning me on to all these blues artists and sounds that I was not familiar with. Each time I walked in the shop I knew The Kingfish was going to look out for me. I would say to him, “I’m looking for something that sounds like this with this with this kind of feel”. Nev, without pause, would bring me over to the racks and pluck out exactly what I was looking for…without fail. In the four years Nev turned me on to over 200 hundred albums that I bought from him; I learned so much. I kept a playlist of “Nev’s Nuggets” since. All 3,817 songs that are in it are nothing short of front-burner music. (Nev now has a section in their newsletter called “Nev’s Nuggets”).

I can’t be there now that I am in London, but I call on Friday nights every so often. Each time I do it is a gut punch knowing all the coolness going down there. I still support The Kingfish; I just send a couple hundred quid to him. Nev curates a sick batch of nuggets to ship to me in London. You can take the boy out of the record shop, but you can’t take the record shop outta the boy. 

People talk about the online experience: listening to music, buying music, sharing, downloading…all that is crap. Sorry. It all happens in the indie record shop.  Mojo changed my music fan life. 

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One of the nuggets Nev passed along to me was the debut album from Black Merda. The Kingfish got his hands on a few copies and was trumpeting this album to everyone that walked in. Most everyone had never heard of them…except The Kingfish, of course. 

I won’t go into all the detail; you can read about them here. What you need to know is that their debut album came out in 1967… a year ahead of Sly’s, “There’s a Riot Goin’ On“.  The album sound is very earthy, not overdone and filled with a deep, dark sense of groove. The issues in the song are social, political and speak from the 1967 black point of view. Powerful shit. You have to think about when this was released, too…1967, the year of the “Summer of Love”. This album ain’t no “be sure to wear a flower in your hair”…no, it is much more, “be sure to watch your back”.

Yes, this album…the production, specifically, sounds a bit dated. That being said, it doesn’t take anything away from what these guys were doing at that point in time and before some of their peers claimed the throne to these sounds. I have three songs here for you. The first one is so damn infectious. It is my fave rave of the set. The second one just gets sick and chunky-funk like. The third is an instrumental…I love it. You need to listen to the first two to really appreciate “Windsong”: a  slow, brooding groove (max volume for this).

Enjoy the tunes. Enjoy the weekend.  

“Cynthy Ruth”

Prophet

Windsong

Here is a link to a Youtube search page for Black Merda. Look for the song, “Good Luck”.

Jul 27

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The KIngfish checks in with new nuggets from Mojo Music down in Australia

It is said that the only two things in life you can count on are death and taxes. Well, that may be true, but I have one more for you: killer blues recommendations from The Kingfish. That’s right…the Kingfish is like the “Axis”: he knows everything. 

 
The Kingfish is my very good friend, Nev. Nev owns Mojo Music…a true independent record shop located in Sydney Australia. Here are a few Mojo themed prior posts to put you in-the-know on Nev and the Mojo vibe. 
 
I used to go to Mojo every Friday night for near five years. Nev is a master curator of real-real-gone, down home blues music. Nev knows his blues shit….in all flavors, shapes and sizes. He has deep knowledge of artists, labels, scenes, and sounds. He has turned me on to many, many artists and sounds that I never knew before. I have amassed quite a collection of Nuggets over the years.
 

Nev’s_Nuggets_(by_album)_2.pdf
Download this file
My own private collection of Nev’s Nuggets
 
 
I used to call all these turn-on’s, “Nev’s Nuggets”. He even dedicated a spot in his newsletter with that moniker (see below). I left Sydney in September 20009. When I left, I gave The Kingfish a chunck on money to use to send periodic instalments to me here in London. 
 

Mojo_Newsletter.pdf
Download this file
The latest Mojo Newsletter
 
 
 
I just received the latest and greatest yesterday in the mail. Hey, just because you aren’t in your neighborhood doesn’t mean you can’t support the neighborhood indie record shop.  I haven’t been able to put my ear to all of this yet, but at first listen…it is pure Mojo:
 
Jericho Alley Volume 1: Blues In Los Angeles 1956 – 1967 (Check the top three albums for track listings at this link). I’ll let The Kingfish describe it in his own words: 
 
“With the 3rd volume just released, this excellent series of compilations provide a fascinating view of the LA RnB scene from 1955 to 1967. Artists featured include Harmonica Slim, Gus Jenkins, King Solomon,Louis Jackson,and plenty more. These comps play really well and are highly recommended for fans of the second tier blues front runners.Tough Guitars, plenty of fine harp blowin’, and some killer vocal performances make these packages hard to resist. Jericho Alley is what you buy when you think you have it all.”
 
The Animals: “Let it Rock” (Live, 1963): This is a live recording with Sonnyboy Williams blowin’ loud on the back half of the album. Check out the pictures below for Nev’s handwritten notes on this album. 
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See the full gallery on Posterous

 
Magic Sam: “Magic Touch“: Unfortunately Brother Sam left us early at 32 due to a heart attack.  He was on the rails towards true legendville and his influence is still felt today. Sam didn’t leave a lot of studio material behind, but what he did was the such front-burner material that nothing was left on the table. We blues fans are natural born gold-diggers…treasure seekers…vault sniffers. We look for more juice to squeeze from every piece of fruit we see; squeeze no more. This live set from the Magic Man, Magic Sam is real-deal.
 
The Kingfish also sent me a new Mojo t-shirt hot of the screen press. I’ll be wearing mine specifically for my Nuggets listening session. 
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Thanks again, Brother Nev.
 
 

 

May 15

2 Comments

Wilco Delivers! (a guest post from Kip who caught the gig in Sydney, Australia)

Over its 15 years as a band, Wilco has explored a varied range of sounds, from early alt-country tendencies to a sound influenced by classic rock, pop and folk. Ever restless, the band reinvented itself in the early-noughties by pushing its music in a more experimental direction. And when it seemed they’d become a band preoccupied with sonic experiments, it switched gears (again), putting out a melodic, folksy album, Sky Blue Sky, followed by an almost straightforward mainstream guitar album — last year’s king of the creepers, Wilco (The Album).

By single-mindedly pursuing a career based on slow organic growth, as opposed to intermittent commercial hits and a quick buck, Wilco have evolved into a live act that is seemingly beyond comparison. It’s difficult to imagine a tighter, more confident sextet, particularly when one considers the sonic breadth of their setlists. Great bands create a wall of sound when playing live; paradoxically, Wilco’s wall is a soft blanket that envelops its audience.

Wilco established the tone for a recent sold-out Saturday night Sydney show early on, opening with the chugging beat of Wilco (The Song). Over the song’s playful rhythm, frontman Jeff Tweedy sung, “Wilco will love you, baby,” and at once a sense of joyful openheartedness pervaded the mood for the rest of the two and half hour, 29-song set.

Early on, Wilco launched into another song off the new album, Bull Black Nova, a jarring, paranoid rocker with a clanging Spoon-like keyboard rhythm that recalls the piano chestnut, Chopsticks. The intensely claustrophobic Bull Black Nova was an abrupt transition from the light-hearted opener, but it signalled that the band was in the mood to rock out, and the setlist for the rest of the night favoured songs with driving guitars and opportunities for the band to unleash its unique wall of delicious sound.

The band’s two multi-instrumentalists – Pat Sansone and Mikael Jorgensen – laid down waves of interlocking sound with buzzing, squeaking and humming electronics as drummer Glenn Kotche masterfully filled in the spaces. It was easy to close your eyes and get caught up in these swirling acoustics as the understated lights that dotted the stage pulsed and glowed in the State Theatre’s darkness.

Unfortunately, a typical “hip” Sydney audience is cowered into fear of expressing themselves the wrong way at the wrong time, making the collective feel self-conscious about their presence at a gig and wondering how they’re supposed to participate. Doesn’t sound like a fun-filled experience, does it? Bollocks! Wilco are so sure of themselves now that the typical Sydney audience had little baring on the outcome.

Wilco came, saw and conquered. Sure they noticed the blatant audience coolness and they did their absolute best to change it – Tweedy’s banter, at times, was like a mischievous kid with a blunt stick prodding a hornet’s nest. But it mattered not.

For most groups who relish the interaction of a live show, playing the hits involves a delicate balancing act. On one hand, many people don’t like to have their memory of a favourite old tune radically altered. On the other, there are few worse prospects for the seasoned musician than the idea of being reduced to a living jukebox, churning out songs for which you have long since lost any affection. This was a problem that Wilco obviously circumvented a long time ago. There are no throw-aways; nothing is ever rushed.

The exceptionally talented lead guitarist Nels Cline stole the show with some surprisingly spectacular guitar playing that was so impressive that (some) people even jumped to their feet to whistle and applaud! Guitar solos can easily become indulgent, but I was blown away with the precision and grace of Cline’s playing, the way his often frantic strumming served the song and how he was able to consistently wow the audience without going overboard by laying it on too much. Normally I get impatient for long guitar solos to end, but Cline is the rare exception when I would’ve been happy to hear more.

At times Tweedy carries the look of a man who enjoys being dragged backwards through hedges. But this is a good thing in the context of a Wilco gig. Whether it’s his deadpan between-song banter, his ironic facial expressions or his folksy back porch demeanour, Tweedy is comfortably wedged in the driver’s seat.

Turning a stately 100 year-old theatre adjoining a mid-town Maccas into a back porch is a feat more readily associated with Uri Geller. But Wilco have magic in abundance. They are a band at ease with their lofty place in the live music world today. Happy to be enjoying their slow evolution from alt-country darlings to all-round sonic magicians. The boys, are quite simply, in outstanding form right now. If they ever stop-by your home town, do yourself a favour and pull-up a pew. You won’t be disappointed.

Apr 26

19 Comments

Ass Sniffers and Record Collectors: Sound Hounds are the purest of breeds

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Why is it that when dogs first greet each other that they stick their noses right up the other dog’s ass and take a good whiff?  I have two dogs. They are always doing this. 

We’re out in the park playing fetch or taking a walk and we run into another dog. Like a fucking thin, red laser beam, my dogs zero in on the other dog’s asshole. This is the gut reaction, the centuries old knee-jerk response…dogs are natural born shit sniffers.
 
Yeah, they could smell the other dog’s face, they could sniff the other dog’s coat, but to really find out what that other dog is all about, to really get a feel for how they roll, they’ve got to get a good snort of that other dog’s shitter. 

 
Record collectors are natural born shit sniffers, too. 
 
That’s right. We ain’t no dogs, but we are shit sniffers of a high order…evolved, upright, thumbs. I’ll admit it, I’ve sniffed a lot of shit in my days, and I bet you have, too. We can’t help it either; it’s just what we do.
 
Record collectors. Music lovers. Sound hounds. When we meet people, there is only one way to find out what they are all about and that is to stick our noses as far up the other person’s record collection as possible. Case in point…
 
Take my new friend, George. George and I just met recently. I had heard about George through a friend. George has worked in the record / radio industry for a number of years. From what I was told, George knows his music (confirmed). So, when we were introducing ourselves I passed him a link to my record collection that I have stored in an online doc. 
 
What better way for George to know where I am coming from than to have virtual finger flip through my collection. I am my collection. It says a lot about me. I am happy if George, or anyone else, makes their first impression of me based on it. Shit, I have been curating that now for close to twenty-years. As I tell my wife: “sorry baby, but my first love and longest lasting relationship has been with my music”. Oh yeah, she loves that one.
 
After he had a look through my list, George said something that made me smile. He said when visiting some one’s home for the first time, he heads straight for their record collection (like a thin, red laser beam). I laughed because I do exactly the same thing. Other people don’t want you looking  through their fridge, they don’t want you pawing through their underwear drawer, but they certainly don’t mind if you flip their records.
 
(As George rightly pointed out…not many people have records anymore. Now we have to spin their CD rack, or worse, scroll through their iTunes)
 
George had good things to say about my collection (mustard officially passed). One thing he did notice was the “total lack of any punk”. Good eye, George…I am not a punk fan.  He was cool with that (personal taste), but what he could not tolerate was me having no Clash records in my collection at all. 
 
Before I go any further, let me say that my preconceived notions about the Clash and their music was completely misguided. I disobeyed a cardinal rule of one my heroes, Boo Diddley: You can’t judge a book by looking at it’s cover.
 
I am a blues man. Punk just never resonated with me. As far as I knew, the Clash was punk. I didn’t even take the time to validate that judgement. Fuck it, I have Otis Rush and Charley Patton…who needs the Clash. 
 
I stand corrected. There is definitely room in my predominantly 12 bar collection for the Clash. 
 
After getting berated by George for my Clash oversight, I went head first into “London Calling“. Yes there is punk in there, but there is so, so much more, too. There’s R&B, rock, Bo Diddley’s beat, jazzy shit, ska…you name it, its in there. There are rockers, slow ones, aggressive ones and flat out ball-busters. The best thing about it is that it sounds different and not contrived. 
 
The band put themselves and their scene into the sound and what came out was a true and honest representation of who they were at that point in time. Like all true classics, that point in time has the legs to live on forever. 
 
As always, I was interested in the story behind the album. I watched the docco on the making of it: “The Last Testament”.  I was hooked after that. I LOVE the back story.  It adds so much depth and richness to the listening experience. Have you seen it? If not, have a go…it is well worth it. 
 
http://www.youtube.com/p/CFB49659E21C8D88&hl=en_US&fs=1

So, thanks to George’s sniffing around my record collection, I am now knee deep in learning about the Clash…and a better man for it. Hopefully I get a change to flip through George’s collection when we meet. Who knows, I may be able to turn him on to something that I think he is missing in his collection…? 

We shit sniffers need to stick together. 
_____

If you haven’t looked at my collection before, please do so. I call it Judd’s Juke Joint (click that link). I’m always updating it. You can even subscribe to it and get emails on when I feed the dragon and buy new sounds. There are a few tabs at the bottom of it: CDs & Downloads, Vinyl, DVDs and “The Honour Roll”. Have a look at all of them.

You’ll find a note atop Judd’s Juke Joint. It reads: I do not believe in conventional genres. Genres are used to sell records.  I believe in music that is deeply engraved in the background of the music makers; all of of whom are connected by a shared experience that links them inextricably; music with a message and a literal truth.  Everything else is a product of the record labels.

Damn straight.
 
Special note on Judd’s Juke Joint: While living in Sydney, Australia, my collection grew not just in numbers but in sheer quality. I owe most all of that to my good mate, Nev…The Kingfish. I’ve written about Nev many times on The 6149. Nev is the owner and resident keeper of the independent record store chain in Sydney Australia. He taught me more about the blues than I ever could have learned on my own.

Six days of the week you can find him hanging at his shop, Mojo Records, bestowing bits of blues wisdom on bow-down tracks and albums that are ball-tearer’s.  Stop in and tell him Judd sent you…
 
Roust on, Kingfish. Long live “Nev’s Nuggets”!

Apr 16

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“If you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit all your friends…” 17th April – Support Record Store Day

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In honor of Record Store Day, which occurs this Saturday the 17th April, I am reposting a blog entry that I wrote almost one year ago. 

 
This post was about one of my fave places in all the world…”my” record shop in Sydney Australia, Mojo Music. I wrote this a ffew days before Record Store Day ’09. Mojo is a special place, full of special people, sounds and stories…as all good local record shops should be. 
 
I am also linking to a few other record store related posts that I have written in the past:
 
 
 
 
 
 

“If you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit all your friends…” (posted 12th April, 2009)

The first record I ever owned as 45 called, “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” by the Tokens. I was a young kid of about seven or eight years old and I played that record until the needle wore through its grooves. It was the sweeping falsettos that hooked me.  But what I loved even more was the loping, rhythmic, tribal beat that drove the song. I feel strongly that my love of the blues was spawned from repeated listenings of this infamous song.  One of the other records of my formative-music fan years that used to get a lot of spins was the Best of the Monkees. “Last Train to Clarksville” and “Papa Gene’s Blues” were faves.  

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In the movie, Almost Famous, Kate Hudson’s “Penny Lane” character said, “If you ever get lonely, you just go to the record store and visit all your friends”.  So true…

This weekend 17 different countries will celebrate Record Store Day.  RSD was created by a handful of record store fans as a “…celebration of the unique culture surrounding over 700 independently owned record stores in the USA, and hundreds of similar stores internationally”. Have a look at the website to check out all the happenings.  

I agree with the idea around celebrating the “unique culture” that inhabits the independent record store.  I have a record shop.  It is called Mojo Records and it is located on York St. in downtown Sydney. Mojo, the self-proclaimed “Kings of the Back Catalogue”, is more than just a record shop.  It is a place where people are “regulars” on Thursdays and Friday nights. It is a place where people come to share music and stories about music for hours on end. It is a place where a common bond found in music brings together disparate groups of strangers and friends and turns them into “family”. And, it is a place where a blues lick can draw you off the street and into the shop and never let you go.

When I first found Mojo, I was walking down York and I heard the unmistakable tremble of Muddy Water’s slide action boucing off the buildings on both side of the street. I looked around for the shop and saw that it sat below the street at basement level…subterranean…buried treasure. The front shop window stretched from the footpath up to my waist and ran close to fifteen feet in length. I hovered over it and paced back and forth, all the while staring down at the collection of records, people, cds and posters inside. I was locked in. 

Once inside, I saw a few people leaning on the counter, beers in hands, talking just loud enough so they could hear each other over Muddy’s “Long Distance Call”. There were a few more people flipping through the record and CD racks.  The owner, Nev, came over to introduce himself to me.  Within 15 minutes, he had me holding five albums, five “bow-down” albums, that were a money back guarantee promise of hidden gem goodness. Nev is a man of his word. 

Fast forward two years later, my wife organised a surprise birthday party in the shop.  I am a Friday regular.  I stop down after work with a couple six-packs of beer (always Cooper’s Red) and stay until closing time…which is whenever we decide we want to close up. That particular Friday was my birthday. Little did I know my wife talked with Nev and his right-hand man Uncle Frank and set up the festivities. It was Mojo’s first birthday party.  By 6:30pm, the place was packed with twenty odd people listening to music, swapping stories, having a few beers and eating a record shaped cake.  

We kept on until about midnight and when we were just about to leave, Nev called out “one more song”!  Nev put some Jimmy Dawkins on…a dozen songs, a bunch of stories and a few more beers later, we called it a night. Now that’s Mojo; happy birthday indeed. 

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Just yesterday I was at Mojo.  I went to see Booker T and the Drive-By Truckers perform last night and needed to get the “feel” going before the gig. Nev and I talked about what we were doing for RSD.  There is going to be a two-piece band and a book signing by a local artist. People are going to start coming by around 3:00pm. Nev is going to have some vinyl specials going.  I already put three aside to get when I go in: Derek & the Dominoes, “Layla”, The Allmans, “Live at the Fillmore” and Otis Redding’s, “Otis Blue”.  My wife gave me a turntable for Christmas and I need to get some vinly and give it a spin. My music collection is 1,300+ albums strong (98% fat free).  I can’t replace it all, but I am going to pick out some choice sets worthy of the black stuff.  Have a look at the collection if you like: Judd’s Juke Joint.

If you want to see Mojo in person, come on down next Saturday.  It is sure to be a bow-down event. Oh yeah, bring a rack of beer if youlike…Cooper’s Red.

p.s. That 45 I was talking about?  I still have it.  My mom framed it for me and gave it to me as a gift a couple years ago. Records don’t have to spun on a turn table to tell great stories. 

 

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL RECORD STORE! BUY VINYL!
 
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