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BoffalongoReleased - 1968, on United ArtistsProduced by - Eric Nathanson & Steve Nathanson Larry Hoppen Bass, Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards Keith Ginsberg Guitars, Vocals Basil Matychak Vocals, Keyboards Richie Vitagliano Drums |
| Songs 1. The Bea's Gettin' Rough (Larry Hoppen) 2. Marble Clown (Basil Matychak) 3. Nightmare (Larry Hoppen) 4. Alladin's Lamp (Basil Matychak) 5. Please Stay (Larry Hoppen) 6. Woes Of Home (Keith Ginsberg) 7. Tomorrow Not Today (Larry Hoppen) 8. B.N.I. (Batteries Not Included) (Keith Ginsberg) 9. I Know The Feeling (Larry Hoppen) 10. Band Of Fools (Basil Matychak) 11. Rest Awhile (Keith Ginsberg) 12. Mr. Go Away (Basil Matychak) Singles Released Tomorrow Not Today b/w Mr. Go Away (This was definitely a European single) Please Stay b/w Mr. Go Away (This was definitely a U.S. single) 
Reviews (none) BoffalongoHistory & Interesting Facts1. Larry joined Boffalongo in 1968, while living in Ithaca, NY. At the time the band was comprised of Keith Ginsberg (guitars), Basil Matychak (keyboards), and Ritchie Vitagliano (drums) and Larry on bass. 2. At some point although most likely early to mid 1968 the band moved from Ithaca, NY to a 'communal' loft in the Fashion District of New York City. 3. While in New York City the band recorded their first LP "Boffalongo" which was released December 31, 1968. 4. The LP can still be found usually on Gemm.com and occasionally EBay anywhere from $40.00 USD and up. 5. The music style would considered Psychedelic. It's a great LP to get if you want to hear Larry play Bass. 
Inside Gatefold Below is the text written inside the gatefold. The text I have is small and somewhat fuzzy so it may not be 100% but it's pretty close. In a haunted loft I don't ask me how it came to be haunted, ask the poltergeists who peer down from the ceilings corners. One story above 7th Ave, New York City, four humans, clothed, meet nightly walking down the four coordinates that lead to the center. The fourth coordinate is time, you knew and it is the hardest coordinate to walk. Where it meets the other three is Boffalongo, creating music in a room where things are seen and unseen and horror is circumspect. Some of the wraiths, too, wrap themselves in clothes and come disguised to listen. Will-o-the-Wisps, they drape themselves weightlessly across amplifiers, walk across the keyboards in achrometic silence, curl to wait in the drums. And as the music is weaved, warp and woof, of the stuff from the continuum, these wraiths twirl the knobs, adjust the echo, cup the microphones, muffle the snare, and music is created, distillate of a thousand years and a thousand-thousand lives. Boffalongo. Others of the multitude of spirits are shyer, cloaking themselves in spider webs. You cannot see them although you try. They hang from the mobiles in the loft, turning with the breeze from the fan and the rhythms of the music. Misty, they are part of the presence that is Boffalongo. Catching a note here, a ride there, the swish of the snare or the ruffle of the fuzzed guitar or the Leslie's waver, these spirits caress their prizes, kiss them and return them to the music. Listen! You can hear what you can't see. Rich is rhythm, colors of cube, native drums, dark bass drum, and brightness of Turkish cymbals. Listen to Rich, there is a gremlin on his left shoulder. Once a werewolf lurked in his eyes. Basil is keyboard, and he carves ebony vocals to contrast his ivory hands. Basil inhabits that space between the times. It is his home (No Trespassing!). It is rumored among the Will-o-the-Wisps that Basil walks the fourth coordinate to rehearsals. A gnome sits astride his knee like a trusting child, and old. Keith is guitar, and his voice has collected the abrasives of ages. He is confident, he understands, his music chases immortality. He took a pair of gold-and-white wires and ran them in a geodesic from his mind to his hands. Don't touch him - electricity afts him like a cloak, and from its folds peers a dwarf, blinking eyes accustomed to the dark of the mines below the earth. Larry is bass and voice and other instruments sometimes. The words write themselves on eyelids that he closes to read. His fingers are sure, he has drawn the music of a hundred people physic-like from their souls, and he has made it his. There are shades in his voice which transcend death; it devil grins behind his smile. So nightly gather Boffalongo and myriad mystic souls, sliding down the four coordinates to collide sprawling, brawling, laughing in the loft of 7th Ave. Between the covers of this album a studio has captured some of their witch-brewed music. On your turntable let the needle dislodge a spirit or a hundred spirits. Boffalongo will haunt you. Sit for a spell, live for a time where the four coordinates meet. Boffalongo. "In the desert, who will hear them sing?" - Gordon E. Coggshall To learn more about Larry and his music visit his Official website at www.Larry Hoppen.com. |
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