Here is "THE SPONGE".
One of the rather timeless pieces of the 80s.
A short living music project formed by some students in Massachusetts.
Wolfgang is still active as a DIY Jazz musician, doing great stuff outside the lines.
After i discovered this record, i had to do what the writing on the sleeve told me: "Call Wolfgang".
For sure, this record was made long time ago, so Wolfgang`s phone number from the sleeve, obviously, isn`t the same anymore. For my luck he moved back to Austria, so i had a good time giving him a call in mother tongue.
Here is what Wolfgang told me about THE SPONGE:
“The Sponge was a spontaneous decision.
I knew Johnny Wingstedt from Berklee College—he now lives back in Sweden—as well as Mario Horikawa, who’s now in Japan again.
We graduated from Berklee in 1986 and wanted to start a band that would play both original pieces and some cover tunes.
To find a drummer, I walked through the practice rooms and listened through the doors to hear who was playing. I knocked on one door because I liked what I heard—that’s how I met Aaron Comess. I asked him if he was interested, and he agreed.
I don’t really remember how we found the singer anymore. She worked in some office at the college at the time.
So I booked a studio for 10 hours.
We used the time to set up, record three songs, and mix. Everything happened very quickly, and of course, the quality suffered because of that.
We selected two tracks for a single. But since the total playtime was too long for 45 rpm, we had them pressed at 33 rpm instead. I always wanted to remix the recordings, but I kept putting it off.…”
Wolfgang's Website
Bandcamp
Some records don’t need to be loud to leave a lasting mark.
Waves by Gary Davidson is one of those albums.
A quietly shimmering piece of folk-infused soft rock that lingered in obscurity for over four decades, until it unexpectedly resurfaced.
Waves offers all the hallmarks of a late ’70s / early ’80s AOR-leaning folk-rock album — smooth production, melodic guitar lines, space between the instruments.
But beneath the surface, the album carries a different weight.
Instead of confident bravado, there’s a subtle, searching quality in both voice and lyrics — not uncertain, but reflective.
It’s the sound of someone trying to understand, rather than impress.
The more one listens, the clearer it becomes that this is the work of someone who valued honesty above polish.
Reflecting his way through early adulthood, relationships, and the tension between inner life and outer expectations.
Gary Davidson was born in 1956 and grew up in southern California.
In 1970, at age 14, he moved with his family to Colorado — the place that would later become the creative backdrop for Waves.
He began writing songs at around 18, many of them about love, intimacy, and emotional complexity — particularly shaped by his relationship with his then-girlfriend Sheila.
By Gary’s own account, he was a shy, quiet person — someone who didn’t feel comfortable performing in front of large audiences.
He preferred smaller, more intimate settings — a tendency that shaped the entire spirit of Waves.
Live shows were rare, but not entirely absent.
Over the years, he played at several coffeehouses as a duo with his friend David Reimer — the guitarist who also contributed to Waves.
Though they didn’t perform regularly, these appearances offered a glimpse into the atmosphere the record captured: gentle, direct, and unguarded.
In 1979, Gary’s older brother Randy Carl Davidson opened One Stop Records, a store in Lake Tahoe, California.
The following year, Gary went west to work there.
It was Randy — described by Gary as a strong believer in his talent — who would ultimately help raise the funds to record Waves.
But the store’s success was short-lived: a large chain, Peaches, opened in the same mall and forced them out of business.
Gary returned to Colorado — and soon after, the recording process began.
The album was recorded across two or three months in 1981, during over 80 hours of sessions.
Tracking was done at the American Recording Studio with Dan Diamond as the engineer. Mixing and mastering took place at the Aspen Recording Society studio, with Richie Cicero engineering.
Aspen Studios was a modest but well-regarded studio located in a business park in Aspen, Colorado.
Gary composed all the material himself and played all the guitar parts on the album — despite some promotional photos showing him at the piano.
He clarified later that while he sometimes composes at the piano, he didn’t play any keys on Waves.
His songwriting process was described as intuitive: the melodies would appear, and he’d follow them with focused attention, so they would build up theirselves in his mind.
One of the album’s emotional high points is "Awhile", a song that also appears on his SoundCloud.
In a public comment under the track, Gary reflected:
“I can’t believe I recorded with such a great bassist, Billy Rich. My good friend Carl Gonzalez set it up. How lucky.
Unfortunately, I was not old enough or smart enough to appreciate the experience he had.
All I knew was he was a pretty good bass player – and he was.
What a numbskull I was. Oh well, such is life.
In case you are wondering who Billy Rich is – here are some folks he recorded with:
Jimi Hendrix, Paul Butterfield, Taj Mahal, Buddy Miles, Journey, Seals & Crofts, John McLaughlin – to name a few.
Wow, right?
Anyway – this was Billy’s favorite track.”
That anecdote is just one of many from the Waves sessions.
Another came during the recording of "A Woman’s Dream", when Gary struggled to nail a vocal take.
Legendary bassist Charles Burrell, who also played on the record, finally called out:
“You ain’t no Caruso, just sing the damn song!”
Gary did — and the take stayed.
(Note: Gary isn’t sure Charles Burrell was ever known specifically as a conductor.)
Gary & Dick Weissman
Don Proak
Bruce Lazier
Finding, letting go, moving forward.
A story of collapse, faith and unheard resonance
Let’s follow the journey of an artist whose story remains painfully not "in-sight".
An exceptionally sad, minimalistic album – maybe the most meaningful point of change in an artist’s life I’ve ever come across.
I was initially drawn in by the stark black cover, simply titled INSIGHT – made by a blind artist. Something about it hit me immediately. I sensed there was a story behind this, one that might even shift how I look at Christian music.
Keith Reedy was once known as a blind, hard-drinking honky-tonk musician from the Wabash Valley area. His regional hit “Drinkin’ Billy’s Beer” brought him local fame – how bitterly ironic that title feels now, I’ll leave unspoken.
On the website Bibles For The Blind, Reedy openly shares how destructively and selfishly he lived in his early years, shaped by an “I want what I want” mindset.
And to be honest, I see parallel lines to many collectors I’ve come across over time.
However, Reedy worked relentlessly as a country musician, toured nationally out of Nashville, shared stages with major acts – but remained emotionally and spiritually bankrupt.
His collapse didn’t come dramatically, but quietly.
The shift began when he and his then-girlfriend, later wife Suzie, started attending her church – originally just to get married there.
Suzie also appears in the liner notes of Insight Vol. 1, credited as co-writer on the six-minute track “I Gave Him My Heart.”
What Reedy found in Jesus Christ is something I believe many can find within themselves too.
In times of hyper-individualism, Christian narratives may seem hard to connect with or stand behind.
But maybe they’re as relevant as ever, if you allow them to move inward – to become about self-examination and release.
Reedy offers his story as a mirror – and for me, it arrived at exactly the point in my life where I needed one.
It’s not about dogma.
It’s not about theology.
It’s about emotional rescue.
And musically, Insight is a raw but delicately done work. Simpy Keith and his acoustic guitar, a fine performance, with one uplifting song including bass accompaniment. It's as pure and introspective as these album can get.
Keith recorded the album in his own home studio, using an Otari MX5050 Mark 8-D 8-track and finalized it with a Revox B77 – details he shared with me via email.
Suzie is still by his side.
Keith still plays and records music.
Still deeply overlooked in the noise of today’s culture.
According to him, 500 copies of Insight were pressed.
Some are still with him.
Still sealed.
Still unheard.
Scroll down, start the second video, and let's go!
While researching Toni, aka Ron Lucca, I stumbled upon some truly breathtaking moments and insights from his past.
I was completely captivated by the anecdotes shared by Mike McGettigan, the bass player on Ron Lucca’s only LP, released in 1978.
Ron Lucca started building his own guitars back in 1969. This hobby eventually turned into his business, later known as “Lucca Guitars” — instruments crafted with such care and quality that they’re rarely seen these days.
McGettigan's and Lucca's first encounter was likely at the Piano Tuners Guild in Philadelphia; both were active members. Mike remembered how he somehow ended up in Lucca's living room, auditioning - playing his Fender Precision bass through an Ampeg B-15 amplifier–in those days, considered the ideal setup for electric bass tone back in the day. He recalls Lucca as a Leader, and he meant that in the best possible way. Lucca could play almost any song by ear during their live shows. He relied on his powerful memory and knowledge of song structure to take audience requests. McGettigan confesses that he couldn't always keep up: "I would have to watch Toni's hands for chord changes like a hawk." McGettigan recalled the nervousness and if he saw Lucca’s back while playing, "...that meant he expected me to know where I was going, ha."
There was one strict rule in the band: always wear a jacket and tie. Their drummer, Bob Taylor, was very young, but a seasoned professional — he had played everywhere, following in his father's big-band footsteps. "Bob could get a cigarette out of the pack, light it, and not lose a beat on the drums," McGettigan laughed.
The nightclub scene could be challenging. "There was this really tiny spot called 'Al's Little Cas-Bar', where Al would gesture frantically from behind the counter to our drummer, asking him to play more softly, even with brushes!"
Toni, like a few other imaginative pop guitarists, would sometimes run his guitar through a Leslie organ cabinet–its rotating speakers helped him get a fuller sound both on stage and in the studio. "We also remembered it because Leslie cabinets are one seriously heavy piece of furniture, that no one enjoyed moving to and from the gigs," McGettigan recalls.
For Lucca, playing his own compositions was paramount. That’s why they quickly went into the studio to record his one and only vinyl album. Mike wasn’t a professional bass player and still wondered why Lucca had chosen him for Toni & Company. "Both Bob and Toni had "chops" that I didn't have–to be honest, I was just barely hanging in there," McGettigan says. "I sometimes think I got hired because I had a sense of humor and was easy to get along with, more than my bass parts."
Toni admired George Benson deeply and was taught by old Italian and Black jazz musicians — and among his main influences was Lucca's long-time teacher Joe Sgro, a legend in Philly's jazz guitar community. Sgro would transcribe Paganini violin solos for guitar, and the tribe of virtuoso jazz guitarists in Philadelphia were in demand for studio and touring work in those days.
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By 1978, Lucca's classically-influenced jazz style wasn’t exactly in vogue anymore, but he stayed true to what he cared about and loved. And that’s something I deeply feel throughout the recordings: a true artist with his own vision, striving for musical intimacy and perfection, not fame or the pressure to adapt.
Toni & Company played together for perhaps a year. After they disbanded, McGettigan and Toni fell out of touch, something he regrets. He went on to drum with the punk-funk band “The Stick Men” and bass in the John Cadillac Band before leaving the music world to work as a journalist and more recently, as a bicycle shop owner and writer.
I’m honestly overwhelmed by the album. The mix of raw spontaneity and Lucca’s outstanding guitar work leaves a lasting impression — a reminder that imperfection can be the hallmark of a pure moment, a lifetime feeling that no measurement can recreate.
Even Toni’s handicap (he injured some fingers on his right hand, working in a factory, which cut short his classical guitar studies) never stopped him from becoming one of the greatest guitar players I’ve ever heard.
One anecdote that stuck with me was how McGettigan recalled Lucca carefully wiping down the neck of his guitar after every gig, before gently placing it back in its case. A simple yet powerful memory that speaks volumes about how much music and the guitar meant to him.
After Vincent Gallo brought attention to this album through Discogs, I was lucky enough to find a copy for about $8 there. Now, the last one sold on eBay for $250. It will be fascinating to see where this hidden gem travels next in the world of crazy collectors and music lovers.
Toni Lucca & Company is featured on RPM 002