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I love browsing through charity shops and junk shops for the music of yesteryear.
Whether it's the Soul Symphony Orchestra or George Shearing or a Ron Goodwin soundtrack compilation, there's bound to be some groovy tracks lurking in wait.
Having said that, there are also those l.p.s that you see again and again- Max Bygraves, a braw Scottish Hogmanay with Kenneth McKellar and Moira Anderson, 'Top Of The Pops' compilations daring you to spot the difference between the cover artists and the originals, Readers Digest's compilations... and the 'Music For Pleasure' label.
I do own a couple of items on the Music For Pleasure label, but it produced some amazing almost unlistenable dross, and I can't work out who bought it:
The Torero Band: 'Lennon & McCartney Tijuana Style'
The Conway Sinfonia: 'Classics with a Beat'
Alan Moorhouse & His Bond Street Brigade: 'McCartney, Mendelson, Mancini Go Marching With...'
Kenny Clare & Ronnie Stephenson: 'Drum Spectacular'
Mmm, music has rarely sounded so disposable.
Tamla meets Tijuana, the horror, the horror !
Whether it's the Soul Symphony Orchestra or George Shearing or a Ron Goodwin soundtrack compilation, there's bound to be some groovy tracks lurking in wait.
Having said that, there are also those l.p.s that you see again and again- Max Bygraves, a braw Scottish Hogmanay with Kenneth McKellar and Moira Anderson, 'Top Of The Pops' compilations daring you to spot the difference between the cover artists and the originals, Readers Digest's compilations... and the 'Music For Pleasure' label.
I do own a couple of items on the Music For Pleasure label, but it produced some amazing almost unlistenable dross, and I can't work out who bought it:
The Torero Band: 'Lennon & McCartney Tijuana Style'
The Conway Sinfonia: 'Classics with a Beat'
Alan Moorhouse & His Bond Street Brigade: 'McCartney, Mendelson, Mancini Go Marching With...'
Kenny Clare & Ronnie Stephenson: 'Drum Spectacular'
Mmm, music has rarely sounded so disposable.
Music For Pleasure, MFP; the three letters that perhaps best denote the bringing together of all things both 'cheap' and at the same time 'nasty'. Whether we like it or not, every man-jack of us has got at least one MFP album tucked away. A scatter-gun approach of releases to make grandma giddy and keep the kiddies quiet at one and the same time: MFP had it all. Hundreds of albums released over the best part of 20 years. Check out your own collection...hmm, that Pink Floyd 'Relics' Reissue, that's an MFP...your old faithful Monkees 'Best Of'...that's an MFP too...all those 'Hot Hits' '70's compilation albums, the poor mans' 'Top Of The Pops', that are often gazed at but seldom spun, you know what I'm sayin'...even the Pinky & Perky album that your auntie gave you when you were nowt but a nipper...yep, you guessed it...MFP !
So what's the story with MFP then? What we know is that once again, in the style of the day, every massive major label had a little offshoot dedicated to the budget reissue of it's own back catalogue drawn from all corners of the murky world of pop, and MFP did the nasty for EMI. At its inception in 1965 the Music For Pleasure record club operated out of the wonderfully named Astronaut House in Middlesex, formed as a joint venture with the massive Hamlyn publishing house. The company caused a mighty media stir by simultaneously releasing 78 (count 'em) different LP's with the bargain price tag of 12s. 6d. (that's 62½ new pence to me, and quite probably doesn't mean a deal to our friends in the Colonies). Normally in those days the damage for your vinyl addition would be a shocking 32s. That's about £1.50 in real money, so it's sad to see that that most of these precious items haven't really held their value...
So what's the story with MFP then? What we know is that once again, in the style of the day, every massive major label had a little offshoot dedicated to the budget reissue of it's own back catalogue drawn from all corners of the murky world of pop, and MFP did the nasty for EMI. At its inception in 1965 the Music For Pleasure record club operated out of the wonderfully named Astronaut House in Middlesex, formed as a joint venture with the massive Hamlyn publishing house. The company caused a mighty media stir by simultaneously releasing 78 (count 'em) different LP's with the bargain price tag of 12s. 6d. (that's 62½ new pence to me, and quite probably doesn't mean a deal to our friends in the Colonies). Normally in those days the damage for your vinyl addition would be a shocking 32s. That's about £1.50 in real money, so it's sad to see that that most of these precious items haven't really held their value...
Tamla meets Tijuana, the horror, the horror !
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