Joe Brooks and Rosko “Morning”

So, what is it with morning? Morning this and morning that? What’s up with “morning” with these guys? Can’t stop dwelling on “the morning.” I know, in folk and pop and country music, it’s a favorite subject (especially Sunday morning)—I suppose it’s because it’s when you take stock of your sins from the night before—drank too much, or took advantage of someone… you know what I’m saying. Or maybe it’s the morning/mourning pun—that I’m oblivious of because it’s too obvious. For me, they (mornings) were about homefries and coffee in a diner. But wherever and whichever “God” you face, morning is, I guess, the time of reckoning.

Oh! The name of the record is “Morning”—it’s a theme. Okay, now it makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is the style of this record—it’s minimal, acoustic, folk and pop, guitar and piano and some sensitive singing—and then, what comes in, over the top—none other than spoken word narration—as if someone is reading poetry over the top of a recorded musical performance! It’s fantastic! It doesn’t sound like they’re in the same town, much less the same room. Yet, the album cover would have us thinking that not only are they almost embracing, but their molecules might also be fusing, which could be quite painful. There are separate photos on the back, however, so we can make out which one is which. There “who’s who” of Joe Brooks and Rosko.

So, who are these guys? Joseph Brooks was a very successful composer, performer, filmmaker, etc.—but best known for writing Debby Boone’s 1977 fatal ear screw, “You Light Up My Life.” Can’t forgive that one! Okay, sorry, some people love that song. But it gets worse. Much, much worse. And I’m not here to copy sordid biographical details off artists’ Wikipedia pages—sometimes I wish I was still living in the pre-internet days—times like this. So, it’s up to you, reader, to look for yourself. On the other hand, Rosko—full name William Roscoe Mercer—was a DJ and voiceover artist—quite successful—what I can find (with little effort). But… without the astronomical highs and abysmal lows of his partner, here.

As far as I can tell, this 1970 document was their only collaboration, at least on disc. It kind of makes you think. Lives are so much more than brief biographical sketches—and a forgotten record like this might be just a knockoff, or maybe it’s the key—to something. But can I stomach the extended, repeated listening needed to potentially get to the bottom of its weirdness? I mean, it’s no chore—it’s lovely and fascinating—but in light of what I, now, know about Brooks. (And is that fair to Rosko?) The maddening thing is, this record really is intriguing—the voice-over style works! In a way, it’s more baroque than folky, and I like the baroque—but is it? Or is it just weird? Close attention to the words promises either mystery or demystification—but can I go there? At first listening, the poetry is like leaden pancakes made with cocaine instead of baking powder, topped with LSD infused blueberries. All in good time, I suppose, all in good time. I guess I’ll hang onto this record, for now.

6.13.25