Can You Dig It?

Dig Dug is another facet of the vast WTTM-pire. In conjunction with our good friends at Anno Domini, we organize an elite group of vendors and DJs for a night of record appreciation. Big shouts to my man Lynn Ness for the beatuful flyer design. Email for more info if you're going to be in the Bay Area that night.

We're very proud to present the evening's selectors:
David Ma (Wax Poetics, XLR8R)
Mr. Ma is a well-respected and widely published hip-hop writer who specializes in interviews with classic and emerging artists in the field. As a selector his tastes run toward 60's soul, Bowie, and the occasional party jam.
Peep a stellar example of Dave's non-WTTM work


Justin Torres (Re-Joint Records, All Bay Productions)
Mr. Torres has held it down as a vendor for many of the past Dig Dug events, and we are very excited to hear some selections from his legendary collection. Though a specialist in soul and funk from the Bay Area, we're not quite sure what to expect when he takes the decks.
Do yourself a favor, listen to this mix


DJ Platurn (Oakland Faders, Music Machine)
Platurnipus is one of the finest DJs in the Bay Area and beyond. He is a prolific and award-winning battle DJ, mixtape DJ and, more recently, club rocker. He has promised to bring out the funk records that he loves but can't play anywhere else.
Platurn does his thing internationally


But the real stars of the night are our vendors:
Jeff Jagged from On the Corner Music in Campbell.
Our brohemian Jeff has the only mom-and-pop shop in the south bay worth visiting. I just copped 4 or 5 nice titles today actually.

Geraldine Covento of 'The Need to Calm' on Sidewok radio and www.fmgvinyl.com

King Most, one of San Francisco's most in-demand DJ/Producers, Plug Label recording artist, and one hell of a nice guy.

Joey Meyers, San Jose legend, drummer for the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, and thrift store come-up king...and more tba

And now, a word...
DM was also able to hook us up some highly relevant non-corporate sponsorship. Please take a few minutes to visit the companies listed below, they were all beyond generous and need our support to continue releasing classic material from the past and the present:
Ubiquity Records
Now Again
Truth & Soul

See you downtown!

Do You Have To Let It Minger?

As a child, shooting hoops in my driveway, I knew every angle off the backboard, every crack in the pavement, every boundary real and imagined. Though I had a group of neighborhood kids I regularly played with, I spent a lot of time shooting, dribbling, and daydreaming out there by myself. On the days when I had a particularly good day shooting, I felt like I could play with, and maybe even beat Michael Jordan. I'd practice last-second buzzer-beaters, high-arching shots over his outstretched fingers, and I could practically hear the applause when I, a short, chubby kid with minimal skills, improbably succeeded in beating the best to ever pick up a ball. I would relish the fantasy until the streetlights came on, take a long drink from the hose, and then go inside, eat dinner, and do my homework. What I didn't do was spend the rest of those idyllic evenings stitching a crude replica of my imagined uniform, forging elaborate scorecards of the epic one-on-one battle, and recording my own Sportscenter-style highlight tapes documenting the historic event. If I had done all of that for about fifteen or twenty years, without telling anyone, all the while diligently shooting threes from the sidewalk and waiting for the moment when a wayward NBA scout came trolling for talent down Edenwood Drive, I might have been a sort of basketball version of Mingering Mike.

The strange saga of "Imaginary Soul Superstar" Mingering Mike, familiar to readers of Soulstrut and Wax Poetics but basically unheard of in the world at large, has gotten much more interesting in the past months with the release of a definitive book-length account of his career and the 45-only release of one of his few recordings. The book, written by the sensitive and savvy crate digger Dori Hadar, who originally discovered the cache of Mingering Mike records at a Washington, D.C. area flea market, is essentially a collection of high-quality reproductions of Mike's incredible art work and a brief biography that works toward answering the many questions one has when faced with the fascinating artifacts of a decades-long imaginary career, namely "Who is he?" What motivated him?" and What happened to him?"
In short, he was a shy and eccentric young man with a deep love of music and few social skills. He filled countless hours crafting a wide array of fake album covers, and in many cases, cardboard stand-ins for the records themselves, which he imagined as abundantly successful yet socially conscious soul hits. The imagined albums were to have been written, played, manufactured, and marketed by Mingering (you're gonna have to read the book for the origin of that peculiar though appropriate moniker) Mike himself and his associates, most of whom were based on his family members, many of whom were assigned proto-hip-hop-sounding aliases, including Audio Andre, Joseph War, Miss Fly Darlene, and his constant companion, the Big "D." Mike, who prefers not to be known by his full name, is alive and well, resides in the D.C. metro area, and is pleased but slightly embarrassed by the recent attention paid to the products of his youthful introversion.
The sheer range of artists, labels, and records that Mike created, many with detailed back stories and liner notes, makes the archival process worthwhile. Part of what makes the covers so fascinating is the scrupulous attention to detail they display. As an avid though financially limited record collector, Mike had an eye for assimilating the prevailing design elements of the heyday of soul into his own paint and marker creations. He was careful to include minutia such as catalog numbers, label logos, publishing information, and recording dates. In some cases he went so far as to carefully ease his covers into shrink wrap and re-apply price tags from various local stores. These elements in particular drew Hadar's initial attention. He thought he had discovered an unknown musician, when in fact he had stumbled onto something much more interesting: an artist who had created an intensely personal body of work, hidden away for decades for fear of misunderstanding, whose time had finally come. Because so many of us reformed hip-hop enthusiasts are fascinated by and devoted to unearthing under-appreciated artifacts from the underbelly of American soul music, Mike's work will be seen, and in one small instance, heard, by the curious and receptive masses of record nerds the world over. In many ways, this project is the ultimate expression of the crate-digging ethos. Though there have been some watershed moments of validation for our culture, such as the Brainfreeze phenomenon and the emergence of several well-respected reissue labels, the story of Mingering Mike has implications for the disparate worlds of studio art (the covers and other artifacts surrounding Mike's career have been shown at Hemphill Fine Arts, in Washington), digital media (Hadar initially posted his finds on crate digging forum Soulstrut.com, which lead to numerous stories on the phenomenon in well-respected mainstream media outlets), and of course, the history of independent soul. Beyond merely hoarding or cataloguing something rare and therefore interesting, Hadar and fellow digger Frank Beylotte saved a completely unique, brilliant, yet somewhat bizarre body of work from the abyss of unobserved history.
One truly commendable aspect of the book is the overarching tone: scholarly in an everyman way, amazed yet slightly bewildered, and always deeply respectful of Mike, his dream, and the resulting documents. I kept waiting for someone (there are three essays of varying length that comprise the text) to point out that Mike can't really draw, that his grammar, spelling and syntax are all over the place, and that his enterprise, though understandable in a child, had extended long past adolescence to become more of an obsession than a hobby. That moment never comes, and the further you read into the story, the more of a hero Mike becomes. He's an enigmatic figure, but he was a man who did what he thought was right both in his mundane reality and his fabulous alter-existence as a superstar, consequences aside. This dynamic is especially evident in the lone recording to emerge from the hundreds of pieces of Mingering ephemera Hadar unearthed.

Ever since I first became aware of Mingering Mike in the pages of Wax Poetics, I have wanted to hear the records that were supposed to be housed in those deeply fascinating sleeves. Thanks to the efforts of those entrusted with preserving the Mingering legacy, that is finally possible. The record, "There's Nothing Wrong With You Baby" parts one and two, was recently released by the Vanguard Squad, with all proceeds donated to Mike. It is simply fascinating, both musically and physically, with packaging that is utterly faithful to Mike's vision. It consists of three separate reproductions: a stiff, hand-glued outer sleeve with full lyrics, portraits of Mike and "D," and no fewer than three different label logos, the heartwarming and slightly political inner sleeve (to quote: "I'm very concern with the growing rates of suicides, thefts, killings, alcolhalism, addicts, prostitutes, fakes, frauds, high cost of living..." and so on), and the similar but unique green and brown labels for each side. Mike and Big "D," performing as The Freedom Stompers, vocalize each of the instruments in Mike's original composition save the drums, which were mimicked by (you can't make this up... it might be the single most essentially soulful thing I've ever heard in my life) beating a phone book with an Afro pick. They imitate the bass line, the melody, and both backing and lead vocals. The song itself is a sort of empowerment anthem/sly come-on to an unnamed female love interest. The sentiment, a sense of romantic idealism particular to love-struck teenagers, reminds me of another favorite recovered soul treasure, Bob & Gene's "I Can Be Cool," re-issued by Daptone last year. However, in this case, Mike and "D" are telling the girl that she doesn't have to pretend to be something that she's not, that if she'll just be herself Mike will build her a "castle in the sand."
Much in the manner that the covers can be appreciated in their ragged glory yet potentially serve as templates for legitimate releases, when you listen to this 45 with open ears, you can imagine a "real" song brought to life from this inherently funky skeleton. In fact, I'd love to hear one of the current soul revivalist groups bring it to life (hello, Brooklyn..?). The fact that the song was listenable at all speaks to the fact that Mingering Mike might have actually had a music career under different circumstances. With some modicum of material support, some criticism and encouragement, and a lucky break or two, he could have gone from unheard to merely obscure. In the final analysis, it seems that his painful shyness was and continues to be the prevailing force in his life. Despite that fact, he is currently enjoying a limited but enthusiastic appreciation amongst the digging cognoscenti and enlightened followers of contemporary art. One has to wonder how many more imaginary stars are lurking out there, waiting to be discovered by intrepid amateur historians.




Here's his first (and hopefully not his last) musical offering:

"There's Nothing Wrong With You Baby" Mingering Mike & the Big "D"

Anonymous Exuberance: The Numero Group is Killing It

Chicago-based archival label The Numero Group has emerged as one of the most reliable record labels in the world in the past five years. This post will focus on their Eccentric Soul series, which is exactly what it sounds like; lovingly detailed reissues of below-the-radar soul sides that have never been widely available outside of their respective localities. My curiosity was initially piqued by their stark packaging (one picture on the front, a number, and a plain white back cover with no further info, track titles, or clues as to the contents) yet deterred by high price tags (generally $20 or so for CDs and around $25 for wax). However, now that I've had a taste, I feel like I'm addicted to these comps, scouring eBay for originals I can't afford, re-reading liner notes, and finding things to like about the tracks that didn't initially stand out. My personal history with the label goes a little something like this (hit it!):

I was lucky enough to find a used copy of this one, and it was the gateway drug for one simple reason. I had no idea that there was a funk scene in Phoenix, AZ in the 60's. It seemed incongruous, but the evidence is in the grooves (technically it's in the digits, sadly this one's CD & Mp3 only). Centering on the various productions of 'Mighty' Mike Lenauberg, this one really opened my senses to some desert heat. My pick of the litter has to be "Loaded to the Gills," by Michael Liggins and the Super Souls, which was also re-issued in 12" format by the good folks at Now-Again. It is one of several tracks that feature some tough flute laid over the top, and what sounds like vocal percussion (On a personal note, I tend to really like songs where people vocalize the instruments; see the Mills' Brothers' version of 'Caravan', late-era Tom Waits, and the entire catalog of Biz Markie.) clip-clopping along in the background. This and the sixteen other tracks are bold assertions of vitality that got me thinking about the wealth of undiscovered or merely previously unpopular music I have been privy to, and the common thread that tied them together was an undeniable openness that I termed "anonymous exuberance." The basic unscientific thesis goes something like this: The fact that these artists never developed a national profile only enhances my ability to relate to their joys and sorrows. Much like underground MCs who portray an everyman persona despite dizzying lyrical skills, these extraordinarily talented performers were real people with real problems, and expressed them in an unhinged manner that would only have been diminished by participation in the studio-dominated international music business. My next encounter with this remarkable label would only deepen these initial reactions.

Hearing lost recordings from Columbus, Ohio's Prix label was a revelation. It's one thing for a song to move my head to nod or my feet to tap, but a few of these tracks genuinely moved me on an emotional level. The entire selection is uniformly excellent, but there are a few tracks toward the end that really stand out. After a truly intriguing tape-spliced outtake of "studio moves" by the Harmonic Sounds Band comes a stripped down demo version of Eddie Ray's "You Got Me." Though the completed version is included on the release, I am partial to the rough outtake. It is the sound of a man alone with a guitar really singing his heart out, vocalizing all of the pain and elation that love can bring. The completed version, though a more full and polished arrangement, really loses something by the addition of the other players. I smooths off the rough edges of vulnerability that make the demo so endearing. Next up is the beautiful ballad "You and Me" performed by Penny & the Quarters. Atop the pillow-soft bed of the Quarters' harmonized backing vocals, Penny's voice cuts right to the heart of the matter; "If the stars don't shine, if the moon won't rise, if I never see the setting sun again, you won't hear me cry, this I testify, please believe me boy you know I won't lie, as long as there is you and me." It is the perfect encapsulation of young love at its most naive and triumphant. Though I have come to love this song deeply, the final track on the album somehow tops it. The sublime "You Got Me" (starting to notice a pattern with these titles?) once again by Eddie Ray, accompanied by a very funky hand drummer and Joe King's serpentine guitar, is one of the most unrestrained, passionate vocal performances I have ever heard. Halfway between and gospel shout and Otis-esque growl, he wrings the truth out of lines that in the hands of a lesser performer would come across as mere platitudes. I have come to regard this "throwaway" demo as one of the best songs in the world, and that's usually how I introduce it to people when I play it for them.

Home Schooled: The ABCs of Kid Soul is as close to a novelty record as these guys have come to releasing, and while it's organized around an adolescent theme, it can be a rewarding listen for the discerning soul-obsessed adult. More so than any other set in the series, this comp is a lot of fun. Initially, hearing kids sing about matters of the heart is a bit disconcerting, and the first night I brought it home, the roomies and I spent a lot of time wondering where the songs came from, and how many of these kids were "Joe Jackson-ed" into playing and recording them. My cut on this one is the boisterous "I'm Not Ready For Love." by Promise, a paean to the perils of precociousness with a world-class breakdown. Hearing the sweetly-sung assertions, "I'm not ready to fuss and fight, I'm not ready to cry all night, love is a thing I'm not ready to face, so you just better go your way," I can only smile, nod and agree. Me neither, kids. This one's a great party album, primo mixtape fodder, and a curious musical artifact all wrapped in one beautiful, lovingly assembled package. The pictures contained in the gate fold are easily worth the price of admission.

Though I've only recently become acquainted with Numero 007, The Deep City label, it's already revealing itself as one of the finest releases of this young year. The album opens with the haunting "Am I a Good Man" by Them Two. Penned by label founder Willie Clarke and the immortal Clarence Reid, the lush organ-fuelled arrangement and strong lead vocals recall Phil Spector-era Righteous Brothers. Further along, there are a few tracks by the secret weapon of the Miami soul scene, Helene Smith. Though none of them rival her performance on the stunning "You Got To Be a Man," (not included on this comp but recently reissued on 45) she provides backing vocals on 'good man' and contributes several strong solo tracks. A really nice feature about this album is that they close out the set with a full side of instrumental versions of some of the best cuts on the album, a practice normally reserved for hip-hop records that I'd love to see become standard practice in all genres.
Check back in a few weeks, we're preparing an interview with the hard-working founders of the Numero Group where we'll get to ask them about the process of discovering and re-issuing these and other lost gems.

--ed note: instead of posting these songs, we want to encourage you to peruse the numero website, where you can listen to snippets, purchase CDs, mp3s, and vinyl directly from the label at www.numerogroup.com