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...early 1967 and charles gets out from the joint and prepares for a life as a hollywood personality and music star...after a trip up to frisco to check the hippy scene and dig the vibe he returns to tinseltown and gathers a retinue of young followers who believe in his talent and feed his ego...on september eleventh he manages to score a 3 hour session at universal records to lay down some of his tunes as the first steps to becoming the next big thing...as luck would have it the label closed soon after and that was the last of that, at least that's how it seemed back in that fall of flowerpower...this euroboot has been issued in various forms over the last few years and shows a willing songwriter putting his ideas into vocal form...there was talk, mainly from dennis wilson that charles was going to be on the beachboys vanity label but things got kind of frazzled between the manson entourage and the boys when charlie decided to cop some royalties upfront, heisting over ten grands worth of stuff from wilsons pad, so that possible avenue to the celebrity life came to a bumpy end...these tapes are just the first steps in the long strange trip of possibly the worlds most unlikely popular culture star, the ultimate 'poor folks'rags to riches (every taste catered for in the family story though charlie, in typical pig business style don't see any bread for his efforts, a twenty four hour gig, the hardest working cat in showbiz?)...
...being a radical free thinker old charles eventually found himself engaged in a thought control war with the mind seizure agents of amerikkka and at this present juncture that state of affairs is still fairly ongoing...back in 1968 things were slightly different as he showed forward thinking by beating all those singersongwriters up in laurel canyon to the punch by putting his thoughts into songpoetry...if some kind of wax deal could have been forthcoming a lot of cats could have been spared from getting their lobes infested with the '70's me generation whingers and whiners that polluted the airways of f.m stations across the planet...this copy is from the original wax that popped into head shops while the trials were keeping the public elbow deep in salacious paranoia...dig charlies world view and wonder if he knows more than he should...
...an exploitational waxing that was recorded when the trials started to keep the family in the public eye, as if the public needed reminding, the rich squares were in a panic to the degree the family were in their dreams, casting creepy crawl nightmares across nixons land...this white vinyl platter was released in the mid 80s and its sound is somewhat more expansive than the subsequent compact disk issues, it's like cappy/squeaky/ouisch/brenda/gypsy/sandy and clem are in the room with the listener in the centre...this may be more 'GETTING THE FEAR' than is absolutely needed but the chance to hang with this freaky crew comes on big here, they are right up front in full effect...clem does a passable attempt at getting to the core of manson lyrics but it comes down to the girls to keep things going with their devils hole cheer leading, laying down the death valley gospel with some heavy amount of gusto, wailing and moaning and laughing, being down with their very own distinctively singular aquarian love vibes...ride the helter skelter into the heart of darkness with the garbage people, the girls on the corner await the final judgement, which it seems is yet to be written...
...whilst not nearly as prolific as the mainstream squares, the counterculture sure knows how to cash in on a deal now and then and this is a top exploito biscuit if there ever was...could well be seen as a streetlevel take on the happy campfire image of the laurel canyon hippy elite...take away that name from the cover and this would fetch some serious scratch in some rich collector circles as it would be hyped as communal rural rock from mysterious tribe of dropouts hiding from straight society...a doodletown pipers for the wasted generation...taped in LA in 1970, though in the twenty-first century it could possibly be used as a kind of talisman against forces of goverment pig oppression and should be played before a reefered out creepycrawl is undertaken...
...from the same sessions as the first disk, here comes some more songs and a few alternate versions (just like bonafide rock'n'poppers) on this second cash in with the unwanted children of straight uptight amerikkka...cats getting the idea the first outting was a bit cleaned up will need to get the lobes up close to this one as there hangs a grungy murk all over this giving it a more 'get the fear' insinuation...the whole vibe of this session is pretty upbeat and jolly with the girls wailing behind the surrogate charlie, everyone kicking it on a tripped groove...perfect accompaniment for roaming the back alleys of lonesome towns in broken down dune buggys looking for salvation...fits somewhere into the twisted california saga as it does into the somewhat tatty tapestry of rock'n'roll...its got to be pretty much a flip city favourite...
...1980s prison recording from charles is a right-on slab of heavy disturbed back alley blues, the like of which don't get seen/heard too often in this air conditioned fluffy bunny age...it would be appropriate to call this work desperate man blues, no other terminology comes near but it'd be wrong to think that old chas is in any way desperate, the world around is desperate, desperate to know where its going, desperate in some ways to know where it's been with all the hurly burly back stabbing the squares engender for each other...charlies got it all worked out from beginning to the eventual conclusion, it's all going the way charlie goes, from here to there and onward toward wherever it might be...this wax sees charlie connecting the preceeding 50 years up into one heavy blast of backwoods loner stoner trance folk, introspective meanderings form the singular mind of the last prophet of the psychedelic age...on the surface manson may seem a little off the beam but the more a cat looks into this 'nightmare' world the visions are often near to the centre of the universal thought patterns, the essence flowing somehow uphill to higher workings...in another parallel trajectory he'd have been president/chairman of the board with all his con-man-shoot-from-the hip-bandido-thinking but as it is the revolution took a side track up bread scramble alley...the ambience of the cell makes for some intense pressure giving the air a cloudy feel with all the outside noise breaking through, the interminable din of the timeless time stretched day but charlie don't get bugged by the outside as they are only there if he wants them to be otherwise it's charlies dream with all others just passing by, not even sure they exist if charlie don't want them to...this was a one sided affair with the B side being an etching of one of mansons drawings, also in the package, a photo copy each of squeaky/sandy with words from the father plus a badge, rock'n'roll from the bad side of town, from the outlaw place, the wayward territory beyond order...
...charlie, being the free spirit that he is finds it necessary for the guardians of morality to keep him under lock and key lest the truths he beholds run amok over the land and the business world finds itself strung up with no means of exploiting cash out of the poor and needy...being uncle sams #1 political prisoner is a heavy responsibility and charlie puts in a 24/7 work detail, answering mail and taking/making phone calls and selecting cats off the visiting list he might find interesting (charlie has the most correspondence in the entire yanqkee lock up system/most visitin'g requests etc, man, it's a hard slog but if any cats got the stamina it's charlie, living free and easy in his mind, rolling down hills on horseback and riding dune buggys across the deserts, speeding along the hi-way of creation, keeping an eye on the horsemen of the apocalypse)...without the aid of special effects and modern technology gizmos chas is able to be anywhere on the planet at any given moment, time and space hold no boundaries for manson, the physical plane is just an illusion, a trick of the light that holds the great unwashed mesmerized and hence standig still but always moving busy going nowhere, yet charlie whilst apparently caged is everywhere, being all things to all men, a super star to lonely forgotten teenagers, a demon who haunts the capitalist dream from the hollywood hills to the white house, a sure-fire rateings grabber for the TEE VEE moguls, a self perpetuating industry that just keeps on rolling, spreading out further and further...this wax taped in the 90s is a few missives from the philosophical vaults that are stashed securely in the recesses of mansons mind, deep from within the soul charlie free-styles some poetry, goes off on a couple of rants and tangents out into who knows where, spinning around then facing forward ready to start again chas meanders in and out, weaving and bobbing truths and realities into the NOW...reflecting back at the system with 'no sense makes sense' charlie walks it like he talks it down the hallways of always, coming from the light into the light chas has somehow becomes the light itself, a charlatan gangster to sooth sayer, hillbilly rebel car thief to defender of the faith, the father kicks it around for all to hear, signaling knowledge with irregular parables from the devils hole, the very earth speaks from charlie, he channels the planets fear down the electric phone wire and into the ether...
...here we are in 2006 with charles giving out some insightful abstractions from the olde world inky ticker-type tape that flows through his ever alive ever moving mind banks, the flickering inner screens of mansons imagination are always on, they never sleep, the batteries are on fully charged 24 hours a day...pollution is uppermost on charlies list of wrong doings the boss-man's going have to pay for, the squares have just got to stop running around like headless chickens destroying everything that gets in the way of their TEEVEE regulated existence and listen to the sound of the truth, the truth from on high, the truth that ain't gonna go away...mansons very passionate about the state of things, the ruination of nature for profit and gain, he's not happy about the corporate filth that are screwing up the planet for pure unadulterated greed...indeed, chas is heavily bugging about the way its all going downhill at an alarmingly rapid rate that ain't gonna slow up until the brakes are slammed fully into action...it seems a cats got to get back to an earlier time or lest tomorrow is eternally lost, gone forever in a strangulated haze of gasoline fumes and cleaning products...
...more missives taped illicitly from the far reaches of old charlies mental capacitors, speaking in trailer trash visions from the darkside of gonesville, where it all goes in but don't necessarily come out, this is the blues from the backend of nowhere and as nowhere must be somewhere it could be here or it could be there, it could be anywhere, but most probably, and all the pointers indicate this certainty, its by now everywhere...charlie is the worlds most strange pop star, fully on in heavy effect twenty4seven, going at high speed in a sitting position throwing down the weird truths from the depression of the human spirit...the uglyness and uncertainty that has plagued the minds of countless millions down the ages manifests in charlies back alley stories and haphazard philosophies that hold water when the tide is low but are prone to leakiness...victim of society or the product of a C.I.A control plot may well be the sum total of charlies worth but theres no denying he's a barroom prophet in the age of bland celebrity hype, a shaman from the deepest recess of thinkings unsteady beginnings, wobbly hyperbole from beyond the hollywood babylon...
...early 1967 and charles gets out from the joint and prepares for a life as a hollywood personality and music star...after a trip up to frisco to check the hippy scene and dig the vibe he returns to tinseltown and gathers a retinue of young followers who believe in his talent and feed his ego...on september eleventh he manages to score a 3 hour session at universal records to lay down some of his tunes as the first steps to becoming the next big thing...as luck would have it the label closed soon after and that was the last of that, at least that's how it seemed back in that fall of flowerpower...this euroboot has been issued in various forms over the last few years and shows a willing songwriter putting his ideas into vocal form...there was talk, mainly from dennis wilson that charles was going to be on the beachboys vanity label but things got kind of frazzled between the manson entourage and the boys when charlie decided to cop some royalties upfront, heisting over ten grands worth of stuff from wilsons pad, so that possible avenue to the celebrity life came to a bumpy end...these tapes are just the first steps in the long strange trip of possibly the worlds most unlikely popular culture star, the ultimate 'poor folks'rags to riches (every taste catered for in the family story though charlie, in typical pig business style don't see any bread for his efforts, a twenty four hour gig, the hardest working cat in showbiz?)...
...an exploitational waxing that was recorded when the trials started to keep the family in the public eye, as if the public needed reminding, the rich squares were in a panic to the degree the family were in their dreams, casting creepy crawl nightmares across nixons land...this white vinyl platter was released in the mid 80s and its sound is somewhat more expansive than the subsequent compact disk issues, it's like cappy/squeaky/ouisch/brenda/gypsy/sandy and clem are in the room with the listener in the centre...this may be more 'GETTING THE FEAR' than is absolutely needed but the chance to hang with this freaky crew comes on big here, they are right up front in full effect...clem does a passable attempt at getting to the core of manson lyrics but it comes down to the girls to keep things going with their devils hole cheer leading, laying down the death valley gospel with some heavy amount of gusto, wailing and moaning and laughing, being down with their very own distinctively singular aquarian love vibes...ride the helter skelter into the heart of darkness with the garbage people, the girls on the corner await the final judgement, which it seems is yet to be written...
...whilst not nearly as prolific as the mainstream squares, the counterculture sure knows how to cash in on a deal now and then and this is a top exploito biscuit if there ever was...could well be seen as a streetlevel take on the happy campfire image of the laurel canyon hippy elite...take away that name from the cover and this would fetch some serious scratch in some rich collector circles as it would be hyped as communal rural rock from mysterious tribe of dropouts hiding from straight society...a doodletown pipers for the wasted generation...taped in LA in 1970, though in the twenty-first century it could possibly be used as a kind of talisman against forces of goverment pig oppression and should be played before a reefered out creepycrawl is undertaken...
...from the same sessions as the first disk, here comes some more songs and a few alternate versions (just like bonafide rock'n'poppers) on this second cash in with the unwanted children of straight uptight amerikkka...cats getting the idea the first outting was a bit cleaned up will need to get the lobes up close to this one as there hangs a grungy murk all over this giving it a more 'get the fear' insinuation...the whole vibe of this session is pretty upbeat and jolly with the girls wailing behind the surrogate charlie, everyone kicking it on a tripped groove...perfect accompaniment for roaming the back alleys of lonesome towns in broken down dune buggys looking for salvation...fits somewhere into the twisted california saga as it does into the somewhat tatty tapestry of rock'n'roll...its got to be pretty much a flip city favourite...
...1980s prison recording from charles is a right-on slab of heavy disturbed back alley blues, the like of which don't get seen/heard too often in this air conditioned fluffy bunny age...it would be appropriate to call this work desperate man blues, no other terminology comes near but it'd be wrong to think that old chas is in any way desperate, the world around is desperate, desperate to know where its going, desperate in some ways to know where it's been with all the hurly burly back stabbing the squares engender for each other...charlies got it all worked out from beginning to the eventual conclusion, it's all going the way charlie goes, from here to there and onward toward wherever it might be...this wax sees charlie connecting the preceeding 50 years up into one heavy blast of backwoods loner stoner trance folk, introspective meanderings form the singular mind of the last prophet of the psychedelic age...on the surface manson may seem a little off the beam but the more a cat looks into this 'nightmare' world the visions are often near to the centre of the universal thought patterns, the essence flowing somehow uphill to higher workings...in another parallel trajectory he'd have been president/chairman of the board with all his con-man-shoot-from-the hip-bandido-thinking but as it is the revolution took a side track up bread scramble alley...the ambience of the cell makes for some intense pressure giving the air a cloudy feel with all the outside noise breaking through, the interminable din of the timeless time stretched day but charlie don't get bugged by the outside as they are only there if he wants them to be otherwise it's charlies dream with all others just passing by, not even sure they exist if charlie don't want them to...this was a one sided affair with the B side being an etching of one of mansons drawings, also in the package, a photo copy each of squeaky/sandy with words from the father plus a badge, rock'n'roll from the bad side of town, from the outlaw place, the wayward territory beyond order...
...charlie, being the free spirit that he is finds it necessary for the guardians of morality to keep him under lock and key lest the truths he beholds run amok over the land and the business world finds itself strung up with no means of exploiting cash out of the poor and needy...being uncle sams #1 political prisoner is a heavy responsibility and charlie puts in a 24/7 work detail, answering mail and taking/making phone calls and selecting cats off the visiting list he might find interesting (charlie has the most correspondence in the entire yanqkee lock up system/most visitin'g requests etc, man, it's a hard slog but if any cats got the stamina it's charlie, living free and easy in his mind, rolling down hills on horseback and riding dune buggys across the deserts, speeding along the hi-way of creation, keeping an eye on the horsemen of the apocalypse)...without the aid of special effects and modern technology gizmos chas is able to be anywhere on the planet at any given moment, time and space hold no boundaries for manson, the physical plane is just an illusion, a trick of the light that holds the great unwashed mesmerized and hence standig still but always moving busy going nowhere, yet charlie whilst apparently caged is everywhere, being all things to all men, a super star to lonely forgotten teenagers, a demon who haunts the capitalist dream from the hollywood hills to the white house, a sure-fire rateings grabber for the TEE VEE moguls, a self perpetuating industry that just keeps on rolling, spreading out further and further...this wax taped in the 90s is a few missives from the philosophical vaults that are stashed securely in the recesses of mansons mind, deep from within the soul charlie free-styles some poetry, goes off on a couple of rants and tangents out into who knows where, spinning around then facing forward ready to start again chas meanders in and out, weaving and bobbing truths and realities into the NOW...reflecting back at the system with 'no sense makes sense' charlie walks it like he talks it down the hallways of always, coming from the light into the light chas has somehow becomes the light itself, a charlatan gangster to sooth sayer, hillbilly rebel car thief to defender of the faith, the father kicks it around for all to hear, signaling knowledge with irregular parables from the devils hole, the very earth speaks from charlie, he channels the planets fear down the electric phone wire and into the ether...
...here we are in 2006 with charles giving out some insightful abstractions from the olde world inky ticker-type tape that flows through his ever alive ever moving mind banks, the flickering inner screens of mansons imagination are always on, they never sleep, the batteries are on fully charged 24 hours a day...pollution is uppermost on charlies list of wrong doings the boss-man's going have to pay for, the squares have just got to stop running around like headless chickens destroying everything that gets in the way of their TEEVEE regulated existence and listen to the sound of the truth, the truth from on high, the truth that ain't gonna go away...mansons very passionate about the state of things, the ruination of nature for profit and gain, he's not happy about the corporate filth that are screwing up the planet for pure unadulterated greed...indeed, chas is heavily bugging about the way its all going downhill at an alarmingly rapid rate that ain't gonna slow up until the brakes are slammed fully into action...it seems a cats got to get back to an earlier time or lest tomorrow is eternally lost, gone forever in a strangulated haze of gasoline fumes and cleaning products...
...more missives taped illicitly from the far reaches of old charlies mental capacitors, speaking in trailer trash visions from the darkside of gonesville, where it all goes in but don't necessarily come out, this is the blues from the backend of nowhere and as nowhere must be somewhere it could be here or it could be there, it could be anywhere, but most probably, and all the pointers indicate this certainty, its by now everywhere...charlie is the worlds most strange pop star, fully on in heavy effect twenty4seven, going at high speed in a sitting position throwing down the weird truths from the depression of the human spirit...the uglyness and uncertainty that has plagued the minds of countless millions down the ages manifests in charlies back alley stories and haphazard philosophies that hold water when the tide is low but are prone to leakiness...victim of society or the product of a C.I.A control plot may well be the sum total of charlies worth but theres no denying he's a barroom prophet in the age of bland celebrity hype, a shaman from the deepest recess of thinkings unsteady beginnings, wobbly hyperbole from beyond the hollywood babylon...
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