My dad got drafted during the ‘60s. He didn’t fight it out in swamps – thankfully. But he did goto South Korea for a while. And during his time there, he picked up some boss stereo components: a pair of speakers that I currently have, a beautiful turntable now in a dump somewhere and a rather heavy reel to reel recorder. When I found that last item on the list of my pop’s shipped home goods, I snatched it right quick. It became evident pretty quickly that it was an outdated mode of recording – where was I even going to readily find tape to use? Regardless of the answer, the fact that my father and a number of other unfortunately drafted folks spent time making tapes of Hendrix records and the like points to the availability of technology during the ‘60s.

Reel to reels weren’t necessarily the cheapest way to record – there must have been a better way. But the decade seems to have churned out a great many self made producers and musicians including the likes of Jo Meek, Big Boy Pete and Kim Fowley. There were others, of course. And thanks to the historically minded Norton Records, Stud Cole’s work has been re-packaged for a new clutch of fans.

There’s a noticeable Sun Records influence spread over the compilation - simply titled Burn Baby Burn - that solders together the singles that Cole would produce during the ‘60s. But included amidst the early rock and roll stuffs are the rhythm and blues work outs that actually informed the rustic Sun sessions.

Pretty frequently, Cole gets referred to as the proper antecedent to the Cramps. And while that’s not wholly nonsensical, there’s as much soul music included here as anything else. The vamp on “Stop the Wedding,” during which Cole speaks his mind in a calm, even tone, sports background singers that would have fit properly onto any Motown recording from the era. And if that lone track doesn’t quite do it for you, the flute break on “Feels Good” can’t be tied to anything other than the revved up R&B from the ‘60s.

Inherent in this music, though, is a bit of that nascent garage. Perhaps Cole’s best known single, “The Witch” b/w “Burn Baby Burn,” arrives cross pollinated rock tracks that count Elvis as much as Washington’s the Wailers in its influence. Beyond those better known offerings are a litany of oddly devised songs, which accounts for the Cramps references flying left and right.

Oddly punctuated piano playing accompanied by a strangled guitar makes up the majority of “Black Sun” and its morose look at a day in Los Angeles. The oddities included over the duration of Burn Baby Burn won’t alienate listeners – and in fact, each weirdly tossed off track should serve to bolster the worth of this compilation.

Whether Cole’s with us any longer or not – there’s virtually no information about him anywhere – he’s not slated for a career broadening break. It’s just good music. And even if there were biographical information available, the tunes would all sound the same.