In which we tee off with Bing, sing "Kumbaya" with the Weavers, namedrop "The Great One," and fail to find Ry Cooder

LISTENING (Morning audit edition): Once the Andrews Sisters were joined by Bing Crosby on my playlist, I lost interest in them. Despite my attempts to understand Der Bingle, and I think I do, I don't necessarily care to listen to him. I would not be bringing him to my desert island, regardless of how important he was to popular singing. One of the great musical juxtapositions is a visit to Seattle's Museum of Popular Culture, where locals especially lauded are Crosby, Hendrix and Nirvana—there's a Supergroup for you. There's other subjects of interest in this Gehry-design building on the grounds of the 1962 Seattle World's Fair, including a science fiction museum. And when you're finished your visit, you can ride up to the top of the Space Needle. FYI, there's a sign on the ground floor explaining that you will be perfectly safe if there happens to be an earthquake during your visit. Who doesn't breathe a sigh of relief reading that?

Following Bing and the sisters were the Weavers. God knows why I felt I needed to listen to them. It was 1963 again, when I saw Peter, Paul and Mary perform at a local high school. I think I'm over the whole hootenanny thing now, and I only made it through a couple of tracks before skipping out during "Goodnight Irene." You would have done the same.  

Next up, "Friar Tuck and His Psychedelic Guitar." And no, I've never really wanted to hear an ironic (?) cover of Tommy Roe's "Sweet Pea," so I didn't get far with this one. The music ranged from gentrified rock music for the June Taylor Dancers that you might hear on the Jackie Gleason Show in the 1950s to punk noise to some actually decent psychedelic guitar riffs that seemed to come out of nowhere. This one was on the playlist because of the connection to the ubiquitous 60s figure (and present-day virtual unknown) Curt Boettcher. (This is what happens when you listen to "A History of Rock in 500 Songs." You just follow the leads wherever they take you.) I followed this one for about four tracks, just trying to figure out what in tarnation it was supposed to be. Tarnation offered no answers. 

Next up, the Rising Sons. I think their presence in the queue was an attempt to listen to a group of that name featuring Ry Cooder and Taj Mahal, recorded early in their careers. (Ry Cooder—talk about ubiquitous figures!) This does not seem to be them, and some serious digging came up with nothing on Spotify or Apple Music, except that Rising Sons seems to be the name of about half the groups that have ever recorded. None of this would matter much but I sort of enjoyed this music, which sounded to me like an early 70s group that just missed the boat of popular 60s music. And when I looked, the issue date was indeed 1971. I may never learn more about them, but I'm definitely giving this one a more serious second listen. It all sounded worthy of another look. 

(And studying the poster above, I find it hard to believe that the Hootenanny Hoot dance never caught on. Incidentally, director Gene Nelson played Will Parker in the movie of Oklahoma! You know, "Everything's Up to Date in Kansas City." That Will Parker. Nelson went on to direct more TV shows than you can shake the proverbial stick at.)