I do not recommend Googling the name Armen Boladian if you’re a music dork and you want to stay in a good mood, but back in ’72 I would’ve wanted to give him a great big hug on account of FUCK YEAH WESTBOUND RECORDS. This one came out in late winter, bookended by the lovely lovely sounds of Denise LaSalle’s Trapped by a Thing Called Love and the Ohio Players’ Pain. (FUCK YEAH, WESTBOUND RECORDS.)
Years later, I would finally succumb to peer pressure and do my cover version, even though I’m anti-fur and Daimler AG just don’t make em like they used to.
Have you guys ever played a spirited round of “The Westbound Ohio Players were the best and here is why/No no you fool the Mercury Ohio Players were the fucking best and here is why”? When I’m drunk, this game is raucous and fun. When I’m not drunk, it’s the worst, and the people I’m playing against are always insufferable and don’t listen even though I make REALLY GOOD POINTS. (The situation’s the same when you play “Strata-East vs. Black Jazz” and “Human females collect and actually know shit about records: yes or no”: participants get heated, feelings get hurt.)
Anyway, I don’t have a solid position in the debate – it depends on whether I’m drinking rum or vodka and the evening’s phase of the moon and how Kobe’s knee is coming along and whether or not I’ve just listened to “Far East Mississippi” – but I do know the song order on Contradiction is all fucked up (sluggish side A should be switched with banging side B), the guys sure rebounded nicely from their Junie split, “Far East Mississippi” is my cut, and yes, still, even after all these years, I will not hide the fact that I’d lovvvve to share the same astrological sign as Sugarfoot given my feelings about bass, but I’m still happy to be a fabulous Arian like my guys Satch and James. (Drums n’ horns are my side boyfriends when bass is out of town.)