Mort Garson Vinyl, CD & Tape 11 Items

If you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for plants. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back to the dawn of time, but apparently, they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.
Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytum comosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”
But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed.
“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.
Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia's new renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.

Limited to 500 copies.

Six years before the release of his landmark Mother Earth's Plantasia LP, composer and arranger Mort Garson met experimental film director Skip Sherwood, who was interested in an electronic score for his new movie, Didn't You Hear? While not much is known now about the exact nature of their collaboration, we have Garson's magnificent score as a record of those heady, early days after his life-changing discovery of the Moog synthesizer. Notable for being one of the earliest screen appearances by a young Gary Busey, Didn't You Hear? also boasts one of the first-ever all-electronic movie scores. Though the score was first released in 1970, it sounds as adventurous and futuristic today as it must have then. Originally available only in the lobby of the theater at screenings of the movie in Seattle, the soundtrack LP went out of print shortly after the film's release. It has been a sought-after record for collectors of Mort Garson and early electronic music ever since. Sacred Bones is honored to reissue Didn't You Hear? as it was meant to be heard, taken from the original master tapes and given a pristine remaster by engineer Josh Bonati. Morton S. "Mort" Garson was a Canadian-born composer, arranger, songwriter, and pioneer of electronic music. He is best known for his albums in the 1960s and 1970s that were among the first to feature Moog synthesizers. His best-known album is Mother Earth's Plantasia, a 1976 Moog album designed to be played "for plants and the people who love them." Sacred Bones Records has undertaken the project of giving official, licensed reissues to key releases from Mort Garson's catalog, with the intention of bringing these bold masterpieces to a 21st century audience.

If you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you fromMother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattressfrom Sears) in 1976, you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especiallyfor plants. Subtitled "warm earth music for plants_and the people that lovethem," it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientifictunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog.Before Brian Eno did it, Mort Garson was making discreet music. Julliardeducated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote loungehits, scored the 1969 moon-landing and plush arrangements for Doris Day, andgarlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell's "By theTime I Get to Phoenix."But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: "When my dad found the synthesizer, herealized he didn't want to do pop music anymore." Garson encountered RobertMoog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society's West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device."My mom had a lot of plants," Darmet says. "She didn't believe in organizedreligion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatevercreated us was incredible." And she also knew when her husband had a good song.Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.This release marks the first official re-issue of the long sought-after cult classic.Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the greenthumb that made everything flower around him. "My dad would be totallypleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had nopopularity at the time," Darmet says of Plantasia's new renaissance. "He would befascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating thispart of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then." Garson seemsto be every...

Mort Garson's road to cool cultural caché and the sublimity of Plantasia meant a decades' long journey through an underworld of sophisticated, international, string-laced dreck (i.e., your great-grandparents' record collection) to arrive at Music from Patch Cord Productions, this set of queasy-listening you now hold. Music from Patch Cord Productions shows that Garson's knack was to exist in both worlds, super-commercial and waaay out. He cut delirious minute-long blasts for commercials (as to whether or not they were actually ever aired remains unknown) and spacecraft-hovering études. Were there really account managers out there in the early '70s that gave the greenlight to these commercial compositions which seemed to anticipate everyone from John Carpenter to Suicide? What were these campaigns actually for, Soylent Green? Regardless, Mort's jingle work laid the groundwork for the future. As Robert Moog himself noted: "The jingles were important because they domesticated the sound." Via Garson's wizardry, the synthesizer transcended novelty to ubiquity and dominance. Other curios and questions abound. How did Garson's arrangement work for Arthur Prysock's satiny body worship album This Is My Beloved transmogrify into the body-snatcher pulses of "This is My Beloved"? Are the two pieces even related? What is the Iata code for the airport of "Realizations of an Aeropolis"? What denomination is the "Cathedral of Pleasure"? If "Son of Blob" sounds like a hallucinatory melted ice cream truck theme, what on earth does Blob's father sound like? Every sound wrangled out of that Moog by Garson pushes things further and further out. Of course, these are all questions that may never get answers, as Garson wasn't the most organized modern day composer, busy as he was conjuring strange new realms with his circuit boards and synths. He worked and wrote right up until his death in 2008, his daughter and Sacred Bones still going through all of the material left behind. He wouldn't live to see it, but his renaissance was just around the corner, the seeds that had been scattered in record bins around the world suddenly coming to bear fruit. Take a bite!

Mort Garson's road to cool cultural caché and the sublimity of Plantasia meant a decades' long journey through an underworld of sophisticated, international, string-laced dreck (i.e., your great-grandparents' record collection) to arrive at Music from Patch Cord Productions, this set of queasy-listening you now hold. Music from Patch Cord Productions shows that Garson's knack was to exist in both worlds, super-commercial and waaay out. He cut delirious minute-long blasts for commercials (as to whether or not they were actually ever aired remains unknown) and spacecraft-hovering études. Were there really account managers out there in the early '70s that gave the greenlight to these commercial compositions which seemed to anticipate everyone from John Carpenter to Suicide? What were these campaigns actually for, Soylent Green? Regardless, Mort's jingle work laid the groundwork for the future. As Robert Moog himself noted: "The jingles were important because they domesticated the sound." Via Garson's wizardry, the synthesizer transcended novelty to ubiquity and dominance. Other curios and questions abound. How did Garson's arrangement work for Arthur Prysock's satiny body worship album This Is My Beloved transmogrify into the body-snatcher pulses of "This is My Beloved"? Are the two pieces even related? What is the Iata code for the airport of "Realizations of an Aeropolis"? What denomination is the "Cathedral of Pleasure"? If "Son of Blob" sounds like a hallucinatory melted ice cream truck theme, what on earth does Blob's father sound like? Every sound wrangled out of that Moog by Garson pushes things further and further out. Of course, these are all questions that may never get answers, as Garson wasn't the most organized modern day composer, busy as he was conjuring strange new realms with his circuit boards and synths. He worked and wrote right up until his death in 2008, his daughter and Sacred Bones still going through all of the material left behind. He wouldn't live to see it, but his renaissance was just around the corner, the seeds that had been scattered in record bins around the world suddenly coming to bear fruit. Take a bite!

Six years before the release of his landmark Mother Earth's Plantasia LP, composer and arranger Mort Garson met experimental film director Skip Sherwood, who was interested in an electronic score for his new movie, Didn't You Hear? While not much is known now about the exact nature of their collaboration, we have Garson's magnificent score as a record of those heady, early days after his life-changing discovery of the Moog synthesizer. Notable for being one of the earliest screen appearances by a young Gary Busey, Didn't You Hear? also boasts one of the first-ever all-electronic movie scores. Though the score was first released in 1970, it sounds as adventurous and futuristic today as it must have then. Originally available only in the lobby of the theater at screenings of the movie in Seattle, the soundtrack LP went out of print shortly after the film's release. It has been a sought-after record for collectors of Mort Garson and early electronic music ever since. Sacred Bones is honored to reissue Didn't You Hear? as it was meant to be heard, taken from the original master tapes and given a pristine remaster by engineer Josh Bonati. Morton S. "Mort" Garson was a Canadian-born composer, arranger, songwriter, and pioneer of electronic music. He is best known for his albums in the 1960s and 1970s that were among the first to feature Moog synthesizers. His best-known album is Mother Earth's Plantasia, a 1976 Moog album designed to be played "for plants and the people who love them." Sacred Bones Records has undertaken the project of giving official, licensed reissues to key releases from Mort Garson's catalog, with the intention of bringing these bold masterpieces to a 21st century audience.

Six years before the release of his landmark Mother Earth's Plantasia LP, composer and arranger Mort Garson met experimental film director Skip Sherwood, who was interested in an electronic score for his new movie, Didn't You Hear? While not much is known now about the exact nature of their collaboration, we have Garson's magnificent score as a record of those heady, early days after his life-changing discovery of the Moog synthesizer. Notable for being one of the earliest screen appearances by a young Gary Busey, Didn't You Hear? also boasts one of the first-ever all-electronic movie scores. Though the score was first released in 1970, it sounds as adventurous and futuristic today as it must have then. Originally available only in the lobby of the theater at screenings of the movie in Seattle, the soundtrack LP went out of print shortly after the film's release. It has been a sought-after record for collectors of Mort Garson and early electronic music ever since. Sacred Bones is honored to reissue Didn't You Hear? as it was meant to be heard, taken from the original master tapes and given a pristine remaster by engineer Josh Bonati. Morton S. "Mort" Garson was a Canadian-born composer, arranger, songwriter, and pioneer of electronic music. He is best known for his albums in the 1960s and 1970s that were among the first to feature Moog synthesizers. His best-known album is Mother Earth's Plantasia, a 1976 Moog album designed to be played "for plants and the people who love them." Sacred Bones Records has undertaken the project of giving official, licensed reissues to key releases from Mort Garson's catalog, with the intention of bringing these bold masterpieces to a 21st century audience.

No doubt you know the name Mort Garson from his myriad writing, conducting, and arranging credits, topping a thousand in total: the Kim Sisters, Gi Sönne, Lola Novakovic, Pfc. Craig Brown, Emilio Pericoli. Or failing that, his sides for Patti Page, Mel Tormé, Rosemary Clooney, Percy Faith, and Mr. Magoo himself. Which is to say, Mort Garson's road to cool cultural caché and the sublimity of Plantasia meant a decades' long journey through an underworld of sophisticated, international, string-laced dreck (ie, your great-grandparents' record collection) to arrive at Music From Patch Cord Productions, this set of queasy-listening you now hold. Juilliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson seemingly never said no in the decades ahead. You could say he was an early adopter to the gig economy, taking any and every job that came his way. He cranked out lounge hits, scored plush arrangements, rendered jingles and TV themes and more, from the late 1940s into the swinging `60s. As his daughter Day Darmet put it: "The joke about my dad is he would wake up and work all day until dinner. He would eat dinner, then take a 2-hour nap, then work all through the night again. He was constantly on it." That meant putting those weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell's "By the Time I Get to Phoenix," making the Simon & Garfunkel catalog sound even more mellow, and making guitar duo Santo & Johnny cover a slew of Beatles' hits. His charts made Doris Day's Sentimental Journey even more deliriously mawkish. Garson's penned hit "Our Day Will Come" moved from Ruby and the Romantics to elevate to the ranks of standard: James Brown, Amy Winehouse, k.d. lang, Isaac Hayes, Tony Joe White, Max Romeo, Yasuaki Shimizu have all covered the song.At the point in life when a 40-year-old man might undergo a midlife crisis, Garson had a transformation of another sort. He encountered Robert Moog's early prototype synthesizer at the Audio Engineering Society's West Coast convention in 1967, purchasing on...

When Sacred Bones first began their Mort Garson reissue project in 2019 with a proper reissue of Plantasia, the Garson-naissance began in earnest. Soon after, you could hear Mort Garson and his Moogs bubbling up on TV shows, documentaries, podcasts, hip-hop tracks, or anywhere else, the man a cultural phenomenon once more. Like a perennial that returns with each new spring, the Mort Garson archives have brought to bear yet another awe-inspiring bloom. Journey to the Moon and Beyond finds even more new facets to the man's sound. There's the soundtrack to the 1974 blaxploitation film Black Eye (starring Fred Williamson) alongside some newly unearthed music for advertising. Just as regal is "Zoos of the World," where Garson soundtracks the wild, preening, slumbering animals from a 1970 National Geographic special of the same name. The mind reels at just what project would have yielded a scintillating title like "Western Dragon," but these three selections were found on tapes in the archive with no further information. The crown jewel of the set is no doubt Garson's soundtrack to the live broadcast of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, as first heard on CBS News. That's one small step for man, one giant leap for Moogkind. But for decades, this audio was presumed lost, the only trace of it appearing to be from an old YouTube clip. Thankfully, diligent audio archivist Andy Zax came across a copy of the master tape while going through the massive Rod McKuen archive. So now we get to hear it in all its glory. Across six minutes, Garson conjures broad fantasias, whirring mooncraft sounds, zero-gravity squelches, and twinkling études. It showcases Mort's many moods: sweet, exploratory, whimsical, a little bit corny, weaving it all together in a glorious whole. Maybe at the time it scanned as crass and opportunistic for Garson to apply his keyboards to subjects like astrological signs, the occult, hippiedom, houseplants, or the moon landing. But more than most other electronic music pioneers of his ilk, Garson foresaw the integration of such electronics into our daily lives, how they would allow us to engage with the world.

When Sacred Bones first began their Mort Garson reissue project in 2019 with a proper reissue of Plantasia, the Garson-naissance began in earnest. Soon after, you could hear Mort Garson and his Moogs bubbling up on TV shows, documentaries, podcasts, hip-hop tracks, or anywhere else, the man a cultural phenomenon once more. Like a perennial that returns with each new spring, the Mort Garson archives have brought to bear yet another awe-inspiring bloom. Journey to the Moon and Beyond finds even more new facets to the man's sound. There's the soundtrack to the 1974 blaxploitation film Black Eye (starring Fred Williamson) alongside some newly unearthed music for advertising. Just as regal is "Zoos of the World," where Garson soundtracks the wild, preening, slumbering animals from a 1970 National Geographic special of the same name. The mind reels at just what project would have yielded a scintillating title like "Western Dragon," but these three selections were found on tapes in the archive with no further information. The crown jewel of the set is no doubt Garson's soundtrack to the live broadcast of the 1969 Apollo 11 moon landing, as first heard on CBS News. That's one small step for man, one giant leap for Moogkind. But for decades, this audio was presumed lost, the only trace of it appearing to be from an old YouTube clip. Thankfully, diligent audio archivist Andy Zax came across a copy of the master tape while going through the massive Rod McKuen archive. So now we get to hear it in all its glory. Across six minutes, Garson conjures broad fantasias, whirring mooncraft sounds, zero-gravity squelches, and twinkling études. It showcases Mort's many moods: sweet, exploratory, whimsical, a little bit corny, weaving it all together in a glorious whole. Maybe at the time it scanned as crass and opportunistic for Garson to apply his keyboards to subjects like astrological signs, the occult, hippiedom, houseplants, or the moon landing. But more than most other electronic music pioneers of his ilk, Garson foresaw the integration of such electronics into our daily lives, how they would allow us to engage with the world.