A band called the Chentelles put out one 45, back in 1966. It was "Time", with "She's My Queen", the latter ending up on a handful of garage compilations. There were three pressings of the original 45s, a grand total of 500 copies. The first two batches of 200 each sold well. A third batch of 100 was pressed, but by then all of the Chentelles' family members, all of their classmates, and all fourteen of fans already had their copies. So there the records sat, in the box, in the home of one of the Chentelles. They were getting in the way. As you can imagine, a box of a hundred 45s takes up a lot of garage space. If they ever get there. This box was, you guessed it, thrown out. I've no idea what the going price is, but with only 400 copies existing, even at a very conservative ten bucks each, that's a thousand bucks. Poof! In the trash. And this time, as legend tells it, the dad was complicit.
Liivin' large: The Chentelles loitering around a 'Vette, in the snow. (Focus!)
Check out "Be My Queen" below. These are high schoolers, except the drummer, who was thirteen. Beginning with the delivery of the first line, this thing is epic in its premature bravado, dirty lyrics and all. I dig the pace of it, the organ, the fuzz, the song, I even dig its rarity. But the thing I dig most of all, is the very short scream at 1:15. At the moment it was sung, at that precise moment, that teenager was the toughest sonofabitch on the planet. I'm sure of it.
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