Barry White “Stone Gon’”

Sure, sure, I’ve only got a half-dozen Barry White records, but this one, from 1973, is my favorite. It’s also my favorite (hypothetical) make-out record. And on good days, when I eschew the TV, sports, and audiobooks, and just play music, it’s right up there with the everyday dozen LPs I leave out for easy access. I don’t get tired of it. Only five songs, but they’re all longish to long. Side 2 (two songs) ends with the hit single (if you obtain the 45, I think it’s only half the length, but why??) “Never, Never Gonna Give You Up,” the album’s most energetic track—you can dance to it, which I’d be doing right now if I wasn’t typing. It also sounds like the soundtrack for a movie, but what a movie! —it’s its own movie—the verses and bridge sound like they’re leading to the edge of tragedy, but the chorus is pure love song. I like the first side even better, the slow, quiet lead-in, Barry White’s suave, spoken intro that goes on long enough that I’m always fooled into thinking that’s what the entire record will be (wouldn’t mind), but then, of course, he sings. Then there’s a relatively short, really catchy, relatively up-tempo, R&B pop number. The side ends with a nine-minute epic that’s so lovely, it always seems to zip by. More golden voice monologue, and swelling, romantic orchestral pop, and fine melody.

The confusing album cover opens out to a 2-foot square of mostly blank cardboard, as if further artwork was pending. Well, there are 8 lines of lyrics on one of the glossy 1-foot-square quarters, looking exactly like it’s written with black sharpie in neat cursive. Which leaves an entire, blank, white glossy square. What the hell? I’m almost tempted to print this review, with sharpie, right there. No, hell! I’m gonna do it! Anyway, I’m also tempted to buy more versions of the record just to see if I got shortchanged here—or maybe this is the rarest of 20th Century Records misprinted covers, and I could sell this via Christie’s and retire. Probably not. What we do have on the printed part, as well as the cardboard inner sleeve, is three photos of the Barry White from slightly different angles—he’s at a white, grand piano, and we glimpse a lady just barely entering the frame. The background is an otherworldly mural of an eerie mountain and desert landscape under black, starry sky. There’s a gold chalice of wine sitting at a place on the piano where you really don’t want it to spill. Sometimes I’ll see a ridiculous drinking glass, best suited for show, only, or maybe Satanic ritual, in, say, an antique store, and say: “I’m gonna buy that, and only drink from that, from now on!” I’m joking of course. All talk. But I’m guessing Barry White would really use a glass like that, in the studio, or at home. It’s hard to imagine him in sweatpants. That’s why I’m just a talker… and Barry White is Barry White.

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