Thanks in particular to Kid Robson who kindly sent me a packet of cds the other week. These discs form the content of this morning's post and, since they feature comics-related material and audio drama they seemed ideal material for this anniversary post.
The first disc comprises episodes from the Superman radio series from February 1940. Incidentally, I like how Ordway gives Superman a rueful expression of embarrassment as he watches his earliest exploits in Dr, Fate's crystal on this retro 80s cover.
The series opens with the destruction of Krypton. I was struck by the pronunciation of "Jor-El": a zh-sound like the French "jour" rather than "join" or "January". The baby rocketed to Earth grows to adulthood on the journey. There's no Ma and Pa Kent or Smallville backstory here and Superman, having established his Clark Kent persona, immediately pits himself against the sinister railroad saboteur, The Wolf.
Superman is played by Bud Collyer: the voice of Superman in the 60s cartoons that consolidated my idea of the character. Collyer introduced the idea of pitching his voice higher for Clark, which is a gimmick used by all the Supermen until Dean Cain, I think. Of course, this is an indication that Clark is a pose, a role played by Superman rather than vice versa. The clarity and quality of the recordings is astonishing and the acting has verve and commitment that cuts through the decades.
Quite the opposite is true of the Fantastic Four adventures on the second disc:
The Origin of the Fantastic Four and their first encounter with The Mole Man is amateurish with its weirdly echoing pronouncements, quirky voice acting and comic sound effects: for example,Mr. Fantastic has a speeded-up, Chipmunk voice when stretching . Yet, the whole piece has an oddball charm. It's not the FF's 1975 radio series; any clues to its origin, Kid?
The same story is retold in the Power Record version above. You may recognise these products from Bronze Age adverts; I'd never heard one before. Here, Johnny Storm seems juvenile and selfish, Reed Richards pompous and sonorous. Ben Grimm, the narrator of the tale, however is gruff and loveable and very like Jack Kirby in the sweet and corny MMMS recording.
The story comes from that rather sour period immediately post-Lee & Kirby where Roy Thomas introduced the estrangement between Reed and Sue and financial problems for the FF. I don't know if he was working out his own problems in the scripts but I'm not a great fan of Thomas' two stints on the comic. The dialogue attempts to ape Lee's mix of melodrama and flippancy but the characters either sound shrill or mocking. Poor Roy: I've given him quite the drubbing on Place lately. I hope to redress the balance in a future post.
At the end of the disc, when I heard the opening notes of the Robinson Crusoe suite, I almost sobbed my heart out .The stirring yet melancholy title theme instantly evokes endless school holidays, when six weeks stretched out in a languorous-if often damp- haze. Those were the days when my small self dreaded the beginning of a new school term. No change there, then.
Wikipedia states that this dubbed European serial was shown repeatedly between 1965 and 1977, which lends it immortality for my generation. With its jazzy Continental flourishes, it's also a magnificent piece of music in its own right.
Another dubbed feature of Seventies summer weekday mornings was Belle and Sebastian, the interminable children's drama serial set in the French Alps. It was apparently broadcast every year from 1969-71 and then in 1976 and 1978. Of course, it inspired the Glasgow band and I saw guitarist Stevie Jackson playing in Kelvingrove Park last Sunday. He wrote music for me, you know, for my production of Sam Shepard's A Lie of the Mind in 1991.
White Horses, while it was a bit girly for me, has a similar nostalgic pull, especially Jacky/Jackie Lee's yearning theme song.
The third disc begins with Fireball XL5, Gerry Anderson's Fifties-flavoured puppet fantasy. It's a bit before my time and I only have vague b/w memories from the very early 70s. Thanks to repeats in the 80s and 90s, I'm more familiar with Captain Scarlet, the darkest of the Supermarionation worlds. Of course, I knew the character from the late 60s toys and the love of technology combined with a horror movie sensibility is probably the secret of the series' success. The mid-Noughties Doctor Who novel above pitches the '68-'69 Tardis crew into a dystopian world which is a parody of Captain Scarlet and UFO.
The disc features an effective dramatised retelling of the events of Captain Scarlet's first episode. It deftly details Spectrum's resources and establishes the cold war with the Mysterons.
The Batman tv series soundtrack that closes the disc is quintessential 60s Americana: a blend of hipster jazz and garage band rock and roll. I find it some much more appealing than the music that accompanies modern comic book adaptations. I fully expect the portentous Dark Knight movie to be scored with the tiresome self-pity and tortured howl of a Metallica, perhaps. Maybe the mid-60s was a less self-conscious, introspective and more stylish time.
In the next few weeks, I'll be looking at Neal Adams' X-Men; the Legion of Super-Heroes in 1977 and paying another summer visit to Earth-2. Meanwhile, Materioptikon will continue to feature the DC 100-page Super Spectaculars and the monthly Mystery Men series. You may also be interested in Kid Robson's own blog- eyes right!
Here's to the next 150.
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Oh, Dougie - "You're spoiling me, Mr Ambassador." The Fantastic Four origin comes from the Golden Book & Record Set of the mid-'60s (or thereabouts). I've now taped the Famous Monsters Speak album onto CD for you, leaving only the radio team-up of Superman & Batman to do. Won't be too long now. What did you think of Basil Rathbone's rendition of The Raven?
ReplyDeleteGrats on 150!
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