Robert Baird

The ultimate indication that an audiophile reissue is worth paying for lies in its resale value on the secondary markets, especially eBay and Discogs. If there are lots of copies for sale that are open and played, it's usually a sign that folks are disappointed. On the other hand, if a reissue title—and this covers Analogue Productions' 2009 reissue of Humble Pie's Smokin'—routinely fetches upwards of $100 on the secondary market (and sealed copies above $200), it means, first, that the pressing has probably sold out (a good sign) and, second, that it's probably worth the lucre.

In October 2024, AP repressed its much-sought-after 180gm reissue of Smokin', mastered by Kevin Gray from a ½" flat-tape copy of the original master tape. As this review was being written, copies were still available. It comes packaged in a Stoughton Printing tip-on jacket. It's a high-quality product all around.

A lot of people turned to see who dared profane the label within earshot of beloved Blue Note president Bruce Lundvall and his staff, including the late Tom Evered. A gasp of recognition followed when it was discovered that those words had come from Lou Donaldson, one of the few original Blue Note bebop stars still out partying and playing music in the 21st century.

It's almost too easy to make Dave Dexter Jr. the villain in the story of the Beatles' fumbled introduction to America. A devoted denigrator of rock'n'roll who thought it was a passing fad meant for the kiddies, and who also thought John Lennon played "lousy harmonica," he was just one of the many older music fans who were sure that Elvis Presley's hips had been a corrupting influence on America's youth, not to mention on good music.

The head of International A&R at Capitol Records, then owned by the UK's EMI, Dexter was no fan of British acts in general. He also turned down Manfred Mann, The Animals, The Yardbirds, and The Hollies.

By the mid-1980s, Elvis Costello was in dire need of a change in musical direction. As he recounts in the extensive new liner notes, he was "playing in a band that suddenly sounded like four strangers." Seeking inspiration, he decided the path forward was to use his own name, Declan MacManus, in the credits and to indulge his love and respect for American music.