People who I suspect are silly sausages have inundated in an inundatual way me with unreasonable but wholly reasonable requests that they have requested in a requesting sort of style not unconnected with requesting things to learn more about Funky Love Leathers and rather that dispassionately disappoint them like the music of said band has often disappointed myself I thought instead to do this kind service to you all except for you that aren’t in anyway interested.
While Funky Love Leather’s second- god help us even more underwhelmingly underwhelming- album Funky Pill Rings sold in excess of three hundred copies within the first week of release the following week two hundred and seventy three copies were returned by despondent music fans who had grouped together and partitioned the band for full refunds, plus for the ladies amongst them an extra two pounds sterling was requested in small compensation for the emotional distress naturally caused to the fairer sex by the sheer exuberance of feebleness contained within its grooves. The band, certain that they would easily resell the returned copies, happily complied to these heated roller demands but only, it has to be said, after a meat mallet had been taken to their touring van rendering it now too tender to be taken on the road. But then in the second month they sold only three and a half copies and sales tailed off mildly soon after that. By late ’74 with live audiences dwindling, (generally dwindling half way through the third number Bring Me Duck Feathers But Don’t Bring Me Down) and the loss of a set of all too vital bongos, left behind at the local Woman’s Sowing Circle Summer Fete, (possibly in an mix up involving the tombola) the band came close to calling it a “day” but realised this would only confuse matters so went back to calling it a “missing set of bongos” instead.
Despondent, duckpondent and aimeepondent the band once again entered the local three track studio, Clagging Sound to record a new set of tunes under the title Love Leathers In The Sand. The recordings were an unmarked departure lounge from the directionless, drippy slightly dangled in an udder style and at its finest, tepid cabaret style psychedelic breakfast of the previous two albums, bringing together a new dimension and diminution of harmful but harmless harmonies and devastating do-wop wranglings, along with some spirited krautrock inspired backward tambourine playing that is sublime in its misplaced incongruity and bull headed insistence.
Confident that they were now creating music that would make the world sit back, take off its shoes and put its slippers on, then get up make a cup of tea and some baked beans on toast and a slice of swiss roll for afters and then after these comestibles had been consumed start to listen to but then have to stop listening to because there was someone at the door, (maybe a pleasant brownie asking one to sponsor her in a egg and spoonathon to raise money so brown owl could have that much needed bunion removed or possibly a plump pair of godsquaders oddly insistent on wanting to tell you about their imaginary friend) and after that was dealt with politely but firmly, then sat back down and listen.
Fortunately but then when you think about it rather unfortunately with nearly two thousand of the two thousand copies of the previous album still unsold the unnecessary funds for pressing this new record were sourly lacking in everyway lacking can be sour. So that was that- but then as luck would have it away with your Auntie Susan in the potting shed at your sister’s wedding, that was not that after all, if in fact it was ever that and not this and that or that is this and we are altogether. Strangely unendearing disc jockey Ed “Polpot” Stewart with his once vaguely glittering career winding down now that his listening audience had turned seven and lost interest, (he was down to two wheels on his wagon but he was still rolling along), had taken to recording exclusive shows for Mexican National Radio and had accidentally and with little but callous regret played a track Your Shoe Lace Is Undone from the bands first album Funky Classified on one of these shows. Legend hasn’t it Stewart actually meant to play the classic Please Mister Custer by Nick Drake’s uncle, Charlie Drake (always a wise choice after Ugly Bug Ball by Burl Ives since they flow so nicely together don’t ya think?) but had not been paying attention since the latest issue of Woman’s Realm had been left in the studio that day and he was thoroughly engross in Katie Boyle’s housekeeping tips column and in consequence had put Your Shoe Lace Is Undone on instead. The result of this happy happenstance happening was an unexpectedly unexpected phone call from the Contillion label asking if the band would like to release Your Shoe Lace Is Undone as a single. Contillion were connected to Atlantic records and had released albums by Emerson Lake and Palmer over in the states so indeed the band were more than a tad interested. That it was actually Contillion’s Mexican arm that did want to be releasing the single was of little concern to the band and a few weeks later they learnt that the single had reached number seven in the Mexican charts. It was the hit the band had occasionally dreamed of and that occasional dream only faded when they found out that to get to number seven in the Mexican charts an artist only had to sell the not so grand total of thirty nine singles. Determinedly undeterred they offered the label Love Leathers In The Sand for release and went as far as sending over the master tapes and cover art. They never heard another word from the label again (though they did get two unconnected syllables in the post) and the album remains not at all released but unreleased to this day.
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