Laurie Kaye Cohen “Under the Skunk”

My favorite oddball LP I found last year—the kind of old record that reminds me why it’s worth picking up crap you know nothing about and turns out to be crap—because one in a million turns out to be a masterpiece. That’s a lot of hyperbole, but if every one of the twelve songs on the record was as good as the best three or four, there would be whole wing for it in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, with a Lake Erie view. Naturally, in the store, I was attracted to the very weird cover, that makes no sense whatsoever. The top half is a color photo of a naked, bearded man (LKC?) frolicking in a hayloft with five naked, female mannequins, one of whom is holding a can of Coke! (Best product placement ever?) The photo has an absolutely not-set-up feel—there are details that make no sense—so you’ve got to think it was a candid snapshot caught in the wild—nearly exposing what would have been too explicit even for the record label in question. The lower half of the cover is a black and white, extreme closeup of a bearded man (LKC?) and it’s pretty hairy. It was only when I found a couple of odd photos of the LP online that I realized that the top half of the black & white photo exists on a cardboard flap that hung over the color hayloft photo—so if you’d seen it in a store, shrink-wrapped, it would just look like a hippie with a skunk (I’m guessing) hat—then, once you get home, you can open it and be shocked by the naked mannequin interior (thus the title: “Under the Skunk”). The studio and musician credits are unfortunately on the back of my missing flap, but I was able to find those online, as well. All songs by LKC, and an impressive lineup of 1970s studio musicians worthy of a Steely Dan outing. Some of the songs also have some pretty over-the-top string arrangements, worthy of a Richard Harris outing. Studios in both LA and London. My copy does include, at least, the glossy inner sleeve (this is the only vinyl I own on Playboy Records!) each side of which is a rainbow background over which are neat rows of the Playboy logo (black, silhouette, bowtied bunny)—I’ll count them—551, per side! The back cover is dominated with the complete lyrics, which are excellent, as well as a very short, inscrutable note from, presumably, LKC, leading me to believe a conversation with him around this time may well have been a somewhat far-out experience.

Even with all that shocking art and excellent musicianship, the real star is the singing of this mysterious Laurie Kaye Cohen—I’m not normally a vocal nerd, but put him in a doughnut shop with any of the monsters of 1973 and my money is on LKC coming out alive. Soulful, subtle, and ridiculous dynamics. It’s not just fireworks, either—I believe every word. And the lyrics are great, as I said. What’s really a mystery is how he only recorded one record. Where did he go? I mean, I’m assuming that Discogs is correct—usually pretty thorough. The only other credit they have for him is one record (1976) with a band called “Giants”—which I’ll, of course, now watch out for. Well, at least we have this document from my favorite recorded year, 1973. Personally, my focus, with music, is on songs—which is the strength (and weakness) of this record, but mostly the former. I’ve listened to it over and over since I found it—which takes me back to when I used to buy a contemporary record every couple of weeks and get fully immersed in it. I missed this one, when I was 13, but I may not have appreciated it at the time. I don’t like all the songs equally, but it’s strong enough as a whole that the ones I love more than make up for what’s not my brand of herbal tea. The best song might be the epic, “Ain’t Nobody Ever Satisfied with A Dream,” which goes from a quiet vocal and electric piano to a swelling, over-the-top arrangement and matching emotional rendering. That almost closes out the record, but it’s followed by a beautiful gospel number, “Shall Be Saved”—with, it sounds like, a straightforward message of faith. Did LKC disappear, then, into a quiet life of service to the Lord? Well, I haven’t heard Giants. The album does have a lot of references to religious faith, but he only name-drops J.C. once, I believe—and there’s an equal amount of wit and humor. “If I find the road to heaven/tell you what I’m gonna do/I’ll send a map down to my agent/he’s got a piece of what’s up here too.” That’s from “The Road to Heaven,” one of my favorites. Others: “Don’t Cry,” “Whitney,” “Father,” “Delilah”—fathers, daughters, dogs. I once lived with a dog named Delilah—though the one here is “a lady”—that his dog Samson brought home—how literal all this is, is anybody’s guess.

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