A true 'lost album' from a true lost artist...

I don't know when I first heard the term 'lost album', but I'm sure it was in the liner notes of an album that finally wasn't that lost, in fact, perfectly fine masters were available once the album made its CD debut. And so it goes with almost every 'lost album' - it isn't truly lost, merely waiting in the vaults somewhere until someone somewhere remembers it or the critical and cultural winds blow in a favorable direction for whatever artist and his work that have fallen in obscurity. 

But there are true lost albums, albums that were never finished or were never issued and are not lying (hopefully) in a well-tempered warehouse somewhere. One such case is the One Buck Record of the day, an album that was never finished or issued, one that never even was an album in the first place. Because despite circulating as The Lost Album, the recordings Jim Murray made with ex-band mate John Cipollina and other assorted musical friends wasn't an album either, rather a reel of demo recordings of varying fidelity and quality. 

And finally, that rarity of rarities, not only an album that was lost, but an artist as well. Jim Murray is very barely known for being the guitar and harmonica player in the earliest configuration of Quicksilver Messenger Service, when they were still a five-piece. But those early recordings with that hippiest of hippy bands - often issued years, if not decades later -  are the only credits for Jim Murray on Discogs. When the sessions for a planned solo album which are the basis for The Ladies' Man didn't go anywhere, Jim Murray seems to have left the music - or at least the recording - business. 

The five men QMS with Murray (second from left)

Mystery man Murray is so mysterious that there are not even any particularly good pictures of him, other than what seems to be a single cropped and reworked picture of Quicksilver Messenger Service. (That's also why the cover art goes in a decidely different direction). Maybe someone here knows more about Jim Murray's whereabouts, musical or otherwise, but for now the only real testament to the man and his music is the songs that make up The Ladies' Man. Recorded and produced by old band mate John Cipollina, these sessions were of the true "homebrewed" variety, taking place at Mickey Hart's ranch and then mainly at Cipollina's apartment. In an interview extract I joined to the tracks as a virtual booklet/liner notes, he talks about the wild, long and loose sessions that took place at his home, but even if he says that "We kept the tapes running about 20 hours a day, with two engineers taking 8-hour shifts at the board", not all of the music - not even close to it - were preserved.

As a matter of fact, only six songs (plus alternate takes and backing tracks) seem to be left. That's little for a proposed album, so I had two choices: Either make a mixed album with some Cipollina demos from around the same time frame, or keep the intended Jim Murray solo album. I decided for the latter, seeing it as a challenge for myself: Can I make an album worth listening to out of these tapes? Well, you'll decide - but I definitely gave it the ol' college try. But even with my best efforts, The Ladies' Man inevitably ends up on the very short side of album lengths. Only the Beach Boys were issuing albums of 27 minutes and change at the time. Tracks 1-4 would have been side a, tracks 5-7 side b. Fidelity of these tapes isn't great, but don't be put off by the first twenty seconds or so of opener "White Lady" - it'll get better and stay stable. 

The one shot of our phantom artist

But what about the music you say? Well, it's of its time, that's for sure. Hippy rock, very loose and off the cuff, which considering the "us and every musician friend who happened to pass by"-vibe that Cipollina describes for these sessions is quite understandable. The lyrics aren't of great concern and are no great shakes - but at least they gave me immediately an idea for an album title, considering that 'lady', 'woman' or 'girl' show up in all but one of the song titles. Murray isn't a particular strong or distinctive singer, so these songs get by on vibe and feeling rather than technical perfection. But if you are a fan of Cipollina's playing - especially his work on slide guitar - you'll be in for a treat. Check out "Sweet Lady" for some serious Slide action. As for the musical friends, Paul Butterfield and Mike Bloomfield are probably playing on some of this, so does Nick Gravenites on 12-string.  

Generally I based my selection when there where several takes available on what was musically the better take and had better fidelity - which in all but one cases overlapped, I'm happy to say. The one exception was "I Can Love You Woman", the longest track here, that recalls most Murray's and Cipollina's old band and their jams. I think both versions had a lot of good stuff in them, but not constantly. One take had Cipollina go crazy on the effects pedals, whereas the other had a more muscular beat and more forceful vocal performance. Both had jam parts with some questionable linking and some slow spots. Long story short: I created a hybrid version of "I Can Love You Woman" that takes the best parts of both takes and - I think - nicely alternates between slower and quicker sections. Without false humility, I'd say this is the best version of "I Can Love You Woman" that you are going to hear. 

So. Murray may have disappeared from the music biz, but his music has not entirely and I hope that this version of what Murray and friends left behind will help to restore a bit of his lost musical legacy. Join The Ladies' Man and his merry band of musicians and feel what it's like for a chaotic month in John Cipollina's appartment in January 1971...