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Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts remarked on the last hit Brian Jones played on: “[it] was recorded on Keith’s cassette with a 1930 toy drum kit…” And Keith Richards: “The basic track of that was done on a mono cassette with very distorted recording…” The following recordings are not professional. Listen to them for interesting texture or hooks. Check them out for a few seconds—maybe you’ll want to keep listening.
The first recording written and played on the little keyboard seen in the picture. Actually kind of catchy.
The organ wails in a B movie horror sort of way, but the rhythm section gives it more life than it perhaps deserves. Like Frankenstein’s monster, this Thomas Brady piece from his Harvard Square studio apartment days in the mid 90s is somewhat piecemeal and inarticulate (like the poor monster) but has a robust urgency nonetheless.
“You played around just to hurt me,” goes the plaintive lyric. This is pop as melancholy sickness, but the murkiness is up-tempo and the horror of finding “you with another” almost sounds matter-of-fact. This Brady piece from the 90s powers forward almost as a guilty pleasure.
Strings only. Clocking in at 3:52, it sounds somewhat like the slow movement from a symphony composed in 1900. Brady assures us this is the only “movement” which exists; composed quickly, in E minor, he thinks it was 1995 outside his little studio in Harvard Square.
THIS IS WHAT I TOLD MY DAUGHTER
A song with a hook composed before Brady had a daughter. A working title. Sometimes any words will do.
BRADY SHOWS HIS DAUGHTER A TAPE RECORDER. “IT’S MAGIC?”
Brady had to share this!
Brady couldn’t tell us why the beginning is missing, but this syncopated, clap-your-hands-over-your-head jam (coming in at almost 9 minutes) does get more exciting as it goes. The cheap effects at times work.
Brady apologizes for the cassette hiss but that’s how it sometimes goes with historical recordings. (The next one has hiss, too.) Like other Brady recordings, it tugs the listener in two different directions: mournful and fast—while telling a bit of a story.
Brady plays acoustic guitar on this ode to Sarah, the family cat, a rather straight-forward folk blues number.
“Will you bring me love?” Brady asks (quite a bit) as he explores octaves on the piano in this moody romantic ballad. (This is a Harvard Square song, but recorded post-1990s Harvard Square.)
For the odd, charming melodies played oddly.
“I Think It’s True” has a crunchy texture, a hook or two, and for the melancholy Brady, is actually kind of celebratory.
This was originally called “Hey Anita” and you can hear that phrase da da DA da in the strings throughout this somewhat 19th century, 7 minute number, rather haunting with its string harmony over percussion. Like “Fantasy for Strings,” it has a certain classical form (whatever that is). Perhaps my favorite. 2:22 is nice.
Where did this come from? A knee-slapping country song! Composer Brady has no idea. With a perfect bridge, too.
A rocker. Brady later wrote a middle 8 for this one, but no satisfactory recording exists. Another 1990s Harvard Square era recording, originally on cassette, put on CD, then You Tube.
Extra fast. Hooky electronica. There’s a vocal recording somewhere. This early version is instrumental. “Haven’t we got peace time yet? Haven’t we got peace time yet? Haven’t we got peace time in the minds of those who can’t forget?”
8 bar break: “Your blue dress got no respect. What does it mean to your intellect?”
Thomas Brady admitted his song lyrics owe little to his poetry.
A simple, dreamy, instrumental to lower your blood pressure.
Solid, mid-tempo number with chunky, call-and-response texture.
Just Brady playing moody piano. Melancholy, without being too fussy, preening, or sentimental.
“Standing next to JFK-K-K-K.” According to Thomas Brady, the song is about Bill Clinton, who was mentored by Pamela Digby Churchill Harriman, English society butterfly and political activist for the Democratic party, daughter of 11th Baron Digby (and therefore, Windsor in the title, a royal name).
A recording quirk confines this one to one speaker, but it’s a suave, menacing piece of electronica.
Vocal with acoustic guitar, which Brady can’t really play. Like most of these, a demo with potential only.
IT’S NOT LOVE (IF IT’S NOT FUN)
A rather ambitious (if poorly recorded) vocal. “Because love rules the world.” You can jump ahead to about 6:00 if you want to skip the (amateurish) build.
Brady playing variations on a theme on piano. It has just enough strange moments to have some interest.
USELESS (SIDE A) THERE GOES ONE WHO LOVES (SIDE B)
“Useless” is a Brady original, but played by a short-lived local band, Lung 11. Brady was, frankly, better alone. “There Goes” is entirely Brady.
I FELL IN LOVE (AT THE PARTY) Lung 11: Heather McMillan, vocals; Les Welter, drums; Fred White, bass; Brady, synth. Overlook Records. This was chosen for a compilation CD but I don’t like it.
More of Brady’s chosen style: melancholy with a fast tempo. This one has a vocal.
This is Brady at his most jubilant, perhaps. A tune for brass which many will hate.
Brady on the piano. A stately, meditative number; a nice tune.
MR. SHADOW TAKES A BATH IN THE FOREST
A ridiculous title, perhaps. An orchestral march of emotions, about 11 minutes long. Another symphonic movement, perhaps? Brady might be at his best doing this kind of thing. Close your eyes and sit back.
A brief track, again, nowhere near perfectly recorded, but good enough that one perhaps wishes it were. Brady in the shadows.
The heavy, achieved with the simplest recording distortion, a good beat, a hook, or two. It’s not supposed to be this easy, even for the amateurish Mr. Brady.
SLOW DAY (INSTRUMENTAL, ORGAN, DRUMS)
SLOW DAY (INSTR. PIANO, DRUMS)
These three versions of “Slow Day,” even as rough demos, have something.
I GOT STUCK INSIDE THE STATION
And one recording 20 years on, recorded on Brady’s phone. The Harvard Square studio, stinking of cigarettes and beer, is now a memory, but crazy Brady lives!
The Thomas Brady archives—recordings made on cheap acoustic guitars, cheap electronic pianos (with effects), breathing their last in decaying cassettes—survive into the digital era.
Thanks to Robert “Nooch” Tonucci, a creative talent in his own right and one of the greatest living archivists!
—Scarriet Editors, Salem MA