Tag Archives: Vinyl
Introducing “Video Vinyl Spotlight”, A New DGM YouTube Series
I’m back, once again. Vinyl Spotlight posts began back in January 2014 and have been a cornerstone of this blog for the past eight years. Well, I recently acquired a new camera and decided it was time to bring Deep Groove Mono into the 2020s with a new series, Video Vinyl Spotlight. The first video covers Blue Note’s 80th Anniversary reissue of Larry Young’s Into Somethin’. Feel free to head over to YouTube and subscribe to my channel if you haven’t already, and stay tuned!
Deep Groove Mono’s Great 78 Adventure

In my time collecting vintage jazz LPs I have always been curious about jazz from the bebop era, which for the most part was originally released on 78 R.P.M. shellac disks. Listening to digital reissues of music from artists who thrived in the 1940s like Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, and Lester Young was educational, but it still felt like it left something to be desired. Not only did that feeling accompany me when listening to vintage twelve-inch LP compilations of this material, I always felt that if I’m going to go back that far to get closer to the original listening experience, I might as well go all the way to the 78s — assuming I could find them.
But the prospect of studying and acquiring different, older equipment always loomed overhead, and as a result I hesitated to jump into the 78 game. Finally last year I decided to start simple, purchasing a Califone portable player and an original 1948 pressing of Thelonious Monk’s “Evonce” backed with “Off Minor”. The listening experience did not disappoint and my appetite was whet for more.
Months went by and I hadn’t given the medium much thought. I blindly bought a few 78s cheap at a record fair that were recommended by of one of the dealers, but they didn’t quite match up with my taste. I bought another Monk 78 online but returned it for groove wear issues. But then a couple months ago, frustrated with the trendiness and high cost of collecting vintage jazz LPs, I got inspired to purchase a handful of jazz 78s. For the most part this batch of shellac disks sounded great but the Califone was having some trouble tracking a couple of them. Noticing that the grooves of these records were extremely clean led me to hypothesize that the Califone may have had some unique troubles tracking 78s that were either cut hot or cut with a lot of bass.
Upgrading to an Actual Turntable
The overall experience with these new 78s and the Califone was nonetheless positive, which motivated me to investigate other playback options. I soon learned that idler wheel German-made Dual turntables from the 1960s have a good rapport with 78 collectors. So I started searching and soon settled on a model 1218 for sale on eBay.
When I got the table I was virtually clueless as to how it worked and needed to consult an online manual. The auto-play functionality was a bit baffling, as was the proprietary tonearm counterweight mechanism and headshell. After testing it out, it became clear that the seller had cleverly sidestepped any description of playback issues present: “It powers on and the platter turns fine. It works but I am selling as-is due to its age.” That was all quite true, but there were a couple glaring issues: 1. The turntable would not stop, and 2. The auto-return mechanism was malfunctioning.
Through all this, I was able to mount a cartridge and give a few records a spin. I was impressed by what I heard and frankly a little surprised. The speed was extremely stable and the sound was bold and clear. This gave me hope, so I found a seller on eBay who said they service Duals and I reached out to ask him about servicing mine. He said he doesn’t like to have tables shipped to him, so believe it or not he then proceeded via text and phone to guide me through all the necessary modifications my deck needed. Over the years I’ve gotten decent at making mild adjustments, but I wasn’t used to making repairs like this. After a couple hours though, when everything was done and my table was running smooth, I was quite proud of what I had accomplished with the guidance of my new friend.
Finding a Cartridge-Stylus Combo
Without overthinking it I chose to start with a Grado 78C cartridge, which I chose mainly for its ability to track at a higher force of five grams. (I have never shied away from tracking force. Not only have I found that more force helps alleviate surface noise, I have always been skeptical of the theory that more liberal settings will ruin records.) When I gave the Grado a test run, the sound kind of blew me away, and no tracking issues like I had with the Califone. But after several listens, it eventually became apparent that there was some ground hum in the system, hum that wasn’t present when I was testing playback with a Shure M44-7. After doing some research, I learned that Grado cartridges are unshielded, which causes problems with some turntable pairings.
At this point my 78 cartridge knowledge was still limited, and the next attractive option was the Audio-Technica VM670SP, which also tracked at five grams. But there was something underwhelming about it. It was kind of ugly and clunky-looking and rode extremely close to the record surface. My disapproval may not have been all that much about what I was actually hearing, but I had audiophile friends who I knew would back me in making cosmetics factor into my equipment choices. So I pushed on looking for something more ideal.
It was then that I got talking to a new vinyl mastering engineer friend, Bill Pauluh, who is an adamant 78 collector. He spoke highly of the Pickering V-15 cartridge and all of its seemingly infinite incarnations. So I found a couple vintage V-15 bodies and a variety of styli: 3.0-mil and 2.7-mil for 78s and 0.7-mil for microgroove LPs. Some were original equipment manufactured (O.E.M.), others were generic “repros” made by Pfanstiehl.
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| The majestic underbelly of the Pickering V-15 phono cartridge in all its glory |
Shootouts
First I compared the bodies of an original Pickering V-15 cartridge with a later V-15/AME-1 (I have been told that all V-15 model number variations are identical to the original mechanically). Using the same stylus for playback, there was no difference detected. From there I compared 78 playback with the OEM Pickering D1527 2.7-mil stylus and the repro Pfanstiehl 4604-D3 3.0-mil, both sporting conical tips and both tracking at five grams.
Three key differences arose. First, the Pfanstiehl had a slightly brighter top-end — not necessarily an advantage considering that the high-frequency response of most 78s is fairly limited. Second, at certain moments the 2.7-mil Pickering handled surface noise better, yet at other moments — on the same record — the 3.0-mil Pfanstiehl did! These differences were subtle though and took some serious critical listening to detect.
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| Pickering V-15 in action with original D1527 stylus |
Finally and most significantly, for a few of my 78s there was a sort of swooshing noise with the wider Pfanstiehl. With the narrower Pickering, I was kind of shocked that the noise was completely absent. In the past when I have compared 0.7-mil and 1.0-mil styli with microgroove LPs I never heard this type of dramatic difference. Moving forward, I wonder if the 2.7-mil Pickering will always outperform the 3.0-mil Pfanstiehl in this way; for all I know it will be the opposite sometimes. So while I have found myself going to the Pickering regularly, I’ve decided to keep the Pfanstiehl in the mix.
Playback with Pfanstiehl 4604-D3 Stylus:
Playback with Pickering D1527 Stylus:
Phono Equalization
Through volunteering at engineer Rudy Van Gelder’s studio I became acquainted with his playback equipment, which included a very cool phono preamp that I had never seen before. Introduced in 1983, Conductart’s OWL 1 was designed for playing mono 78s and early mono LPs on modern stereo equipment. By default the OWL sums the input from a stereo turntable to mono, and from there the user has oodles of options for how to equalize the signal.
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| Conductart’s OWL 1 phono preamp |
There was no collective standard for phono equalization before the RIAA curve was universally adopted around 1954, about five years into the LP era. This meant that each record company’s 78s and early microgroove LPs emphasized different bands of the frequency spectrum, which would result in a variety of different playback equalization curves when being played on a system that lacked the necessary adjustment features (sometimes a “tone control” was included on older equipment as an economical compromise). Accordingly, the OWL 1 gives you a variety of settings that accommodate all the various phono EQ curves from the time before the RIAA standardization.
When I first found out about the OWL 1 I had an interest in both ten-inch and twelve-inch LPs made in the early 1950s so I decided to look for an OWL 1 for myself. After several months of scouring the internet with no luck, an audience member at one of my Rudy Van Gelder talks just happened to mention having one. Instantly I asked, “Can I buy it?”, and I was surprised by how quickly he agreed.
Though there is information out there on which labels used which curves, I have generally been using the same settings. Conductart provides some of this info in their instruction manual but ultimately recommends that the user simply “use their ears” as a guide to setting the controls. Indeed, those favorite settings of mine coupled with some additional lowpass filtering are a substantial diversion from the RIAA curve that would be standard on any modern phono preamp.
Isolation
The one area where I had doubts about the Dual becoming my go-to workstation deck was that of isolation. Although the plinth that it came with was quite clean, I quickly noticed that there were wow and flutter issues if I was walking near the turntable. Surely I have been spoiled by the insane amount of isolation with my Technics 1200s, but I was really happy with the Dual otherwise so I looked for a custom plinth option. I soon found a good-looking, modestly priced option online, which sported a sturdy walnut frame and thick veneer base. Not only did isolation improve with the new plinth, things are looking much better now as well!
Still I felt isolation could be improved, so after yet another several hours of research and conversations with fellow collectors, I decided to purchase two eight-by-sixteen-inch concrete block slabs from Home Depot, place them under each pair of legs, and I decoupled the slabs from the tabletop with eight racquetball halves, four for each slab. While I’d say the isolation of a 1200 is still superior, I’d also say there was improvement in isolation at each of the two phases of this process.
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| Closeup of cement base with racquetballs used for decoupling |
My Pride and Joy
I have been pleasantly surprised that my new setup rivals the stability and low noise of my 1200, and as a result I have been going to this table for playback of microgroove mono LPs and 45s in addition to 78s. Not only has the unexpectedly high performance of the 1218 allowed me to use a single deck for all my needledrops and critical listening, I have also been feeling a greater sense of pride with it as a consequence of getting it up to spec with my own labor. I also have a soft spot for cost-effective equipment that performs at a high level.
There is also something neat and special about idler wheel design. It may just be that I like the idea of a simplistic mechanism like a pulley spinning a rubber wheel which in turn spins a platter; perhaps I am also a little in awe of just how stable the speed can be under such circumstances. Either way, my new Dual 1218 is giving me joy in a way that my tried-and-true Technics 1200s — tables that have faithfully been with me since 1998 — never have.
And what better way to end my report but with a video needledrop of the new setup in action! Keep an eye out for my new “Shellac Spotlight” column here on the blog!
Vinyl Spotlight: A Date with Jimmy Smith, Vol. 2 (Blue Note 1548) “W63/NY” Mixed Labels Pressing
- Vintage pressing circa 1962-1966
- “West 63rd (no R) / New York USA” mixed labels
- “RVG” and Plastylite “P” (ear) etched in dead wax
Personnel:
- Donald Byrd, trumpet
- Lou Donaldson, alto saxophone
- Hank Mobley, tenor saxophone
- Jimmy Smith, organ
- Eddie McFadden, guitar
- Art Blakey, drums
Recorded February 11 & 12, 1957 at Manhattan Towers, New York City
Originally released September 1957
Selection:
“Groovy Date” (Mobley)
When I started collecting, I bought into the popular opinion that Jimmy Smith isn’t “collectible” and didn’t pay him any attention. But then I found a great 1965 German documentary on him serving as evidence of how “incredible” he really was. From the live performances where he plays with so much heart and frankly, tears it up, to the interview moments where he communicates his philosophy of jazz and music in general so well, I decided to start listening. So I made a Spotify playlist of all his Blue Note albums, put it on shuffle while I worked, and a couple weeks later I had a condensed playlist of favorites (you can hear that playlist on Spotify now). One of those songs, “Groovy Date”, is from this LP. The sheer power with which the song opens and closes was enough to make me hit the “heart” button, and the solos from all the members do not disappoint.
Despite this album being available only in mono regardless of format, many Smith Blue Notes are only available in stereo as reissues. So I decided it would be both worthwhile and cost-effective to pursue these albums in their original mono LP incarnations. Since Smith originals are so readily available, I quickly acquired six of them. This one was a little harder to get online, but then one day I was in a local shop and they had this copy for cheap. The cover looked great but the vinyl was pretty marked up. It doesn’t play with any skips, and aside from “Groovy Date”, it can be a little noisy. That’s fine with me because my favorite track sounds bold and clear, and I basically chalk this up as paying a fair price for a single song and a great cover (I love the photos of the musicians, the layout, and the color scheme).
As for one of my favorite topics, sonics, this is one of a handful of Blue Note albums recorded by Rudy Van Gelder that wasn’t recorded at one of his studios or a live venue. For years I noticed the recording location “Manhattan Towers” for various Blue Note recordings on jazzdisco.org but never knew what it meant. But then, one day I was lucky enough to speak with Blue Note producer and archivist Michael Cuscuna about it, and he explained that Blue Note had worked out a deal with Manhattan Towers, a hotel in New York City’s Upper West Side, so bigger bands could assemble in their ballroom (Art Blakey’s percussion ensembles, Sabu Martinez) and important artists like Smith who liked to record at night could jam after the normal Hackensack business hours (Van Gelder’s neighbors were known to complain about the noise late at night and his parents lived there).
In writing this article I did a little research and found this cool New York Times article from 1974 explaining that the hotel, located on Broadway between West 76th and 77th Streets, was crime-ridden! (One has to wonder if it was similar or becoming more that way in 1957!) You can hear the massive size of that ballroom on these cuts. The horns, organ, and guitar still sound quite immediate and up-close, but the reverberation of Art Blakey’s drums is true to the space’s larger size. Stay tuned as I review more of Jimmy Smith’s classic Blue Note recordings in the coming months.
Vinyl Spotlight: Olio (Prestige 7084) Original Pressing
- Original 1957 pressing
- “446 W. 50th ST., N.Y.C.” on both labels
- Deep grooves on both sides
- “RVG” stamped in dead wax
Personnel:
- Thad Jones, trumpet
- Frank Wess, flute & tenor saxophone
- Teddy Charles, vibraphone
- Mal Waldron, piano
- Doug Watkins, bass
- Elvin Jones, drums
Recorded February 16, 1957 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released in 1957
Selection:
“Blues Without Woe” (Charles)
It’s rare that I hang on to a record in VG condition, but this record has a couple things working for it: 1. Despite the pops and ticks, it has no groove wear, 2. I got it for (the vintage jazz record collecting equivalent of) a dollar bin price, and 3. The music and performances are both spectacular. Like my copies of Saxophone Colossus and Coltrane Live at Birdland, this was a “jazz genre section” find. Unfamiliar with the music, the price tag made me walk it over to the listening station to give it a try, and I wasn’t expecting such great performances and such a sweet sound.
For several months I grappled with the choice of keeping it or selling it, and lately I decided it’s here to stay. The compositions are all top-notch, mostly written by the tag team of Teddy Charles and Mal Waldron. The sound of the recording hearkens back to the days of lo-fi recording, drums softly set back in the mix (although the bass is maybe a little too low) and the soloists are loud and clear up front, providing a unique take on late 1950s jazz recordings. And the solos are fantastic, from “leader” Thad Jones (the leader of these Prestige “jam sessions” is never clear, save their name being first on the cover) to Charles to Waldron to the most gifted Frank Wess, who plays with a breathiness undeniably reminiscent of Lester Young. Thad Jones had a unique tone and was inventive on the level of Sonny Rollins, and Frank Wess plays with unbeatable swing (this record made me realize what I miss with the avant-garde: swing). We also get to hear a young, swinging Elvin Jones on drums, a rare occasion considering the splashy, liberated rhythmic style he would develop and own in the post bop era of the ’60s. Everyone is on point when it’s their time to shine, and though these Prestige dates often get a bad rep for lacking the care and preparation that went into sessions on labels like Blue Note, one can’t help but conclude that this group knew what they were doing when they stepped into the studio that day.
The album maintains a high quality of writing and musicianship throughout. Opening with “Potpourri”, which features Frank Wess on flute, the group then shifts to “Blues Without Woe”, an uptempo hard bop masterpiece. The first side concludes with “Touché”, a lazy summer jazz walk most exemplified by the harmony of Charles’ vibes and Wess’ flute. Side two opens with “Dakar”, a Charles composition with harmonic chaos in the spirit of Thelonious Monk’s “Evidence”. From there the band slows things down with a reading of the Gershwin standard “Embraceable You”. Thad Jones is his usual ballad-sweet self, and Wess plays a resonating, breathy solo. The album’s final cut, Charles’ “Hello Frisco”, ends things without exclamation, though we still get an inspired solo from Waldron, a pianist who we hear tirelessly working out ideas record after record.
At the end of the day, a cheap original pressing that plays without groove wear or skips is a record worth listening to, especially if the music and performances are as captivating as they are here.
Vinyl Spotlight: Sonny Rollins, Saxophone Colossus (Prestige 7079/7326) “Gold Label” RVG Mono Pressing
- Mono Prestige reissue circa 1964-1971
- “RVG” etched in dead wax
Personnel:
- Sonny Rollins, saxophone
- Tommy Flanagan, piano
- Doug Watkins, bass
- Max Roach, drums
Recorded June 22, 1956 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
That surely was the case when I found this copy of Saxophone Colossus. On the surface, this pressing seems harmless. It serves as evidence of Prestige Records being up to their old capitalist tricks, updating artwork and catalog numbers in a shameless effort to rebrand previously issued material. Prior to this I had seen fake stereo copies of this reissue a few times but this was the first time I failed to see the “stereo” moniker anywhere on the cover. As I examined the front and back of the jacket I thought, “Could this be mono, and better yet, could it possibly be made from the original 1956 RVG metalwork??” And when I slid the LP out of the jacket, I was overjoyed to find the initials “RVG” handwritten there in the dead wax. To sweeten the pot, the record looked near mint and the price tag was in no way suggestive of the colossal sound laying dormant in these grooves. (See what I did there?)
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I promptly paid my fare at the counter, and on this hot, sunny Manhattan day, I posted up at a nearby burger joint to grab lunch as I researched the record’s obscure gold labels. While London Jazz Collector places this label run in the rather wide range of 1964-1971, VinylBeat.com makes a narrower yet less specific claim of “mid-1960s”. Discogs has the pressing year pegged down to 1964 (I have no idea what the source of that info is), but to be honest, the vinyl’s lighter weight and thinner, more bendable material makes me suspicious that it would have been released sometime in the ‘70s. The RVG etching and bold sound of this copy nonetheless remain, a fact made even more astounding when one considers that the original metal factory master disks could have been over 15 years old when this record was made.
Although I usually post favorite albums of mine on here, to be honest Saxophone Colossus is a classic that does not resonate with me as much as it does with most jazz fans. The melody and rhythm of “Saint Thomas” is a bit too corny to find its way into my regular rotation, though the jerky rhythm and brisk pace of “Strode Rode” has always appealed to me. But the real allure for a drummer-minded jazz fan such as myself is Max Roach’s pair of solos on side two. Roach’s hands get quite busy at times during “Moritat” (a renaming of the 1928 Weill-Brecht composition “Mack the Knife”, made for the German play Die Dreigroschenoper; “Moritat” roughly translates to “murder ballad”), but Roach plays with tasteful restraint during his solo on “Blue 7”. Engineer Rudy Van Gelder’s recording of drums was always second to none, even in 1956 as demonstrated here. Roach’s consistent striking of the ride cymbal during his solo on “Blue 7” shimmers with glowing resonance and his tom-toms ring with air-tight clarity and precision.
Though Sonny Rollins’ unique character and humor as a soloist became apparent to me many years ago, I can’t say that I’ve studied the breadth of his catalog with the careful attention it most certainly deserves. But with the addition of this record to my collection, Sonny is sure to get more play on my turntable in the future.
Vinyl Spotlight: Lee Morgan, Candy (Blue Note 1590) Original Pressing
- Original 1958 mono pressing
- West 63rd address on both labels
- Deep groove on both sides
- Plastylite “P” etched and “RVG” stamped in dead wax
Personnel:
- Lee Morgan, trumpet
- Sonny Clark, piano
- Doug Watkins, bass
- Art Taylor, drums
Recorded November 18, 1957 and February 2, 1958 at Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey
Originally released September 1958
Selections:
“CTA” (Heath)
“Since I Fell for You” (Johnson)
As a result of my change in philosophy, I have worked to put myself in a position where original pressings of my favorite jazz albums are more within my reach financially. Not too long after making this decision, this copy of Lee Morgan’s Candy popped up in a friend’s Instagram feed. “That seems like a very fair price for that Morgan,” was my first text to my friend, sent without any serious intent to buy. But 24 hours later the record was still on my mind, so I worked on my financials and decided I could make it work — if the record checked out — and two days later I made the 90-minute trip upstate on the Metro North railroad to look at the record first-hand and give it a listen.
Once I had it in my hands, the jacket was indeed a strong VG+ with no splits, and the labels were clean with the assumed deep grooves, “47 West 63rd NYC” address, and lack of registered trademark “R”. I listened to the record in its entirety before making a decision. Overall I would have play graded it VG+ with light surface noise that could be heard more during some of the quieter passages, but no loud or repetitive clicks and no distortion from wear. The record came from the original owner, an Upper West Side native who, according to my friend, remembered it as the first record he ever bought.
After making payment, I got on the train home with reserved excitement. I was honestly banking on the noise quieting down after running it through my Spin Clean (one of the greatest dollar-to-value purchases a collector can make, in my humble opinion). After one cleaning the surface noise settled down and I was quite pleased. But after a few plays I wondered if the simple act of playing the LP may have loosened some of the dirt, so why not run it through the machine one more time and see what happens? And I was happy to find that the surface noise had virtually disappeared in many places.
As for holy grails, I’d say Quiet Kenny, Jutta Hipp with Zoot Sims, and Overseas are near the top of my wish list, but Candy is really my number one, mainly because I find the entire program to be so great. When I first got into jazz, the atypical arrangement of trumpet quartet stood out to me. I love how playful sounding the music is, and the ballads are some of my favorites of all time.
I think Candy is marginalized by jazz critics for its lack of original compositions, but I could care less when the songs are played with such beauty and brilliant execution. It turns out that most of the songs have their origins in the mid-1940s when Morgan was between the ripe ages of seven and eight. The title track was first recorded by Johnny Mercer and Jo Stafford for Capitol Records and reached number 2 on Billboard’s Best Seller chart in 1945. That same year, “Since I Fell for You” was written and recorded by Buddy Johnson for Decca Records. “Who Do You Love I Hope” is a lesser known song written by Irving Berlin for Annie Get Your Gun in 1946, and “Personality”, penned by Jimmy Van Heusen and Johnny Burke for the play Road to Utopia, also premiered in 1946 with a film starring Dorothy Lamour to follow in 1950.
The remaining two songs completing the tracklist would have been more readily recognized by their respective audiences in 1958. “C.T.A”, the only cut on the album with modern jazz origins, was written by saxophonist Jimmy Heath and first recorded by Miles Davis with Heath on sax for Blue Note in 1953 (according to Miles, “C.T.A.” were the initials of Heath’s then-girlfriend Connie Theresa Ann). “All the Way”, the 1957 Academy Award winner for Best Original Song, was written by Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn for The Joker Is Wild, a film about the life of comedian/singer Joe E. Lewis starring Frank Sinatra. Scroll down to hear a Spotify playlist featuring the original recordings of all of these great songs.
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| Top: Johnny Mercer, Jo Stafford, Buddy Johnson, Irving Berlin, Jimmy Van Heusen, Johnny Burke Bottom: Dorothy Lamour, Jimmy Heath, Miles Davis, Sammy Cahn, Frank Sinatra |
Candy immortalizes the legend of Rudy Van Gelder’s Hackensack home studio, with the album’s sparse arrangement leaving plenty of room for the sound of the engineer’s living room to make its mark on the recording. Sonny Clark’s piano playing takes center stage here and can be heard with startling clarity, and Art Taylor’s drum kit embodies the gorgeous drum sound Van Gelder would regularly get at Hackensack in the 1950s: a slightly roomy, unified sound with soft cymbals and lifelike accuracy in the bass, snare, and tom toms (for this session, perhaps a little too accurate at times: most collectors are aware of Taylor’s infamous squeaky hi-hat pedal during Clark’s leading solo on the title track).
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| Morgan dressed to impress while recording Candy in February 1958 at Hackensack |
The mono presentation of the music, while not exclusively found on the original LP, is less than common. In stereo the music sounds as full as primitive stereo can with Lee’s regular presence on the far left of the spread, but the sparse arrangement here never leaves me feeling that the mono presentation of the band is “crammed into the center image”, as critics of the format often object. What’s more, there does appear to be some tape degradation on my stereo 1987 Capitol/Manhattan CD during “Who Do You Love I Hope”, though this is a nonstarter on all mono issues of the album. Apparently Music Matters did find some sort of a two-track “safety tape” of Candy that was in better condition than the old master, and as a result decided to release the album in stereo for their 33 1/3 R.P.M. series after releasing it in mono for their original 45 R.P.M. campaign.
Other interesting variations in the mono and stereo releases of this album include different piano lines played by Sonny Clark for the intro of “All the Way”. The intro of a different take must have been preferred by the team and thus spliced into the full-track master reel by Rudy Van Gelder. Why the two-track reel did not receive similar treatment is testament to the fact that Candy was only released in mono originally, with stereo being a mere afterthought for Blue Note producer Alfred Lion in early 1958. Additionally, the 1987 stereo CD boasts a reading of “All at Once You Love Her” that is noticeably absent from the original tracklist, which I have to believe was a decision made solely as a consequence of the temporal limitations of the LP format.
Intro to “All the Way”, Stereo Version:
Finally, I admit that I understand when collectors express their distaste for this album cover, but I can’t help but love it. As Lee mischievously glances upward at his name hovering above, the young trumpeter’s boyish innocence conveys a sense of awe toward his newfound fame (side note: though it appears to be a shot from the same sequence of photos as the original, Music Matters used a slightly different photo of Morgan for their reissues). Not being sure why Reid Miles opted to neutralize the potentially explosive rainbow of colored candy pieces depicted here with a black-and-white overlay — perhaps he felt it would be too much of a departure from Blue Note’s two-tone theme — it is a juxtaposition that nonetheless succeeds, with the help of Morgan’s presence, at communicating the playful nature of the musical themes within.
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| Photos used for the original release (left) and Music Matters reissue (right) of Candy |
When I first started collecting, I gawked at the prices original pressings of this album would fetch, and I would have never guessed I’d be in possession of a copy so early on in my collecting years. So the collector saying goes, music comes first. I have always cherished the gorgeous music presented here, but I can’t deny that listening to an original mono pressing has caused my ears to perk up and listen more intently, specifically to the charming solos of all the instrumentalists. I couldn’t be more satisfied with this acquisition, and this copy of Candy is now, obviously and without question, the crown jewel of my collection.
Spotify Playlist: Songs That Inspired Candy










