from the LP Medusa, Threshold Records, 1970
Better known for the band’s they wound up playing in later (Judas Priest, Whitesnake, Sabbath, et al), the members of British trio Trapeze actually had all the right elements working together early on, and this entire LP is a testament to that fact: tight musicianship, catchy melodies, poignant vocals, and lots of cowbell. Singer & bassist Glenn Hughes, who would later go on to briefly replace Roger Glover in Deep Purple, really pulls out all the stops on this track, coming close to the high bar set by guys like Paul Rodgers in his ability to sound genuinely soulful without it being an obvious put-on (like it is with so many other white rockers trying to sound black). There is only one reason why songs this good aren’t played regularly on classic rock radio across the nation, and that’s shitty licensing regulations; so many rock stations are now owned by Clear Channel, and thus bound by their craptacular playlists, leaving heady burners like this (an even mix of stoned western groove, southern accents & driving hard rock) to collect dust in the corner. It’s a damn shame.
from the LP Back to Wreck Shop, Warlock Records, 1989
Often overlooked, probably because of it’s close proximity to NYC, the hip-hop scene in Philly has never been short on talent, and golden-era squad the Tuff Crew collected some of that area’s brightest stars, both on the mic & behind the decks; in addition, unlike most other rap groups then and now, the Tuff Crew was genuinely multi-racial, counting black, latino, white & mixed-race members among their ranks. Perhaps most notably (surprisingly?) of all was white boy DJ 2Tuff, hailed by many of today’s most respected turntablists (DJ Shadow, Q-Bert, Z-Trip, Craze and others) as being instrumental in taking scratching from a background decorative touch to a full-fledged instrumental attack. Never finding mainstream success, they called it quits by the end of ’91, but both this album and their solid debut are absolute old school classics. Don’t sleep.
from the LP Zomes, Holy Mountain Records, 2008
You wouldn’t be out of line for thinking that this project was yet another lo-fi basement tape experiment from some young buck born in the last couple of decades, but you’d be dead wrong, as this dreamy slice of backwards looped madness is the work of none other than guitarist Asa Osbourne, long-time stalwart of the east coast underground (in the ‘80s with band Reptile House, and through the ‘90s with post-hardcore poster children, Lungfish); to be perfectly honest, when I first heard this album and was told that it was somebody from Lungfish, I would’ve bet money on it having been Daniel Higgs, but I was wrong too. The only comparisons I can really draw are perhaps mid-career GBV on downers, or maybe Olivia Tremor Control after hauling a tank of nitrous into the studio and letting it roll---in as much as it takes my mind away to the same drifty place, I’d have to include Bibio on that list as well. Nothing to write home about I suppose, but the balmy textures Osbourne wheedles from his guitar continue to keep me sated; another “wake-n-bake along with the rising sun” kind of track if there ever was one.
from the 7” single, Big Yellow Records, 1968
PBS is the shit people, for real---and no, this isn’t an opinion bred from having no cable, as I have more channels than I know what to do with at this point, it’s about the programming man: where the fuck else are you going to find Sesame Street, Antique Roadshow, and the Grateful Dead movie sitting back to back? Nowhere, that’s where. This song served as the soundtrack to a show of the same name that aired on Boston’s PBS affiliate in the late ‘60s, clearly geared (as was Sesame Street initially) at an inner-city youth audience; although lyrics like, “…shoutin’ loud , feelin’ proud , ‘cause black is beautiful you know… black power’s what we’re talkin’ ‘bout…” may lead one to presume that Stark Reality was an all-black band, they were actually split down the middle: bassist Phil Morrison and drummer Vinnie Johnson were, but jazz guitarist John Abercrombie (yes, that John Abercrombie, who later ruled supreme in the fusion forward ‘70s) and vibes player Monty Stark, who also served as the band leader, were as white as they come. Frankly, apart from a few notable exceptions in the classic rock world, jazz seems to be the only modern medium where black & white musicians play together frequently, a blending of influences that all genres could benefit from, in my opinion.
Good Looking Records, 1996
The undisputed king of so-called “intelligent” drum-n-bass, which I still prefer to call deep jungle or jazz-step, Danny ‘LTJ Bukem’ Williamson largely created this approach to beats all by himself, incorporating the spacier elements of ‘70s jazz-funk crews like Return to Forever or Lonnie Liston’s Cosmic Echoes without coming off the tough-as-fuck breaks; his also runs the Good Looking and Looking Good record labels, in addition to DJing all over the world, no slacker here. The result is always hard for me to describe: it’s almost like you are floating above the clouds, contemplating human kind’s long association with music, the concept of beats being both the oldest & newest expression of our rhythmic desires… basically, the cover photo is a good start! As this was ripped from a mix CD, the tracks are zipped into one big file download. I kindly ask that you keep your seat-belts fastened at all times while cruising through this atmosphere, as it’s been known to leave listeners way the fuck out there, dig?
from the LP No Más, Luaka Bop Records, 2010
Yessssssss… This is the kind of musical pastiche that gives one hope for the future, full of brawny breaks & swirling organ, fuzzy flanged-out guitars playing alongside one determined-ass bassline, everything rolling together flawlessly like those old school green-leaf blunts. Yes, you are listening to samples and loops galore, but not clipped from other sources like duo Javelin become famous for after dropping their minty fresh Jamz & Jemz mixtape--- nope, on this LP they played all the music you hear being sampled themselves, which has a rather twisted ironic beauty to it, don’t you think? Any reviewer that doesn’t catch the heady soulful fusion that’s happening here should find themselves a new job; it’s telling that David Byrne’s label Luaka Bop snatched them up quickly. The perfect soundtrack for a hazy late summers day, look out for the mind-melting guitar solo that snarls to life around 1:40 into the track, it may just push you one toke over the line, so to speak (don’t say I didn’t warn ya)…
from the 7” single, Radar Records, 1978
First week back in session here, so lots of students to entertain and, with some hard work and a little luck, perhaps even edu-ma-cate on the broad discipline of sociology; I can’t be all cool though, as I have to admit, every start of the semester makes me realize how much I love my job. The first few days are always fascinating to any alert observer, people preening and trying hard to make their best (or purposefully worst) impressions: the obvious stuff like clothing, shoes, hair, jewelry, but also things like attitude, posture, preparedness for the class (i.e. textbook(s) out & notebook open for note-taking vs. pencil wrapping on the table to the beats blaring out of the headphones still being worn). Though his Egyptians have always left me feeling lukewarm, Robyn Hitchcock’s earlier psychedelic post-punk troupe, the Soft Boys, never disappoint, witty & attentive slabs of seething intelligence which never pandered to any prevailing trend or, indeed, anyone. Mixing post-modern, gender-based existentialism with a sneering sense of aversion to fads, Hitchcock’s lyrics ring no less true today than they did in the late ‘70s, “…man, you’re gonna be a woman someday, yeah…girl, you wanna be a man and you will, yeah…butcher, it’s meaty when you chip off your roots, yeah…”, concluding that, “…us, we want to be some anglepoise lamps, then…” It never gets boring with everyone’s identity management running at full volume, and in all honesty, I kinda dig all the wild haircuts the kiddies are rocking these days, particularly the Latino & Latina hipsters working that Japanese anime look---a la vanguardia y super badass!
from the LP Toeachizown, Stones Throw Records, 2009
“I embrace the younger & the older generations… I consider myself to be an analogue futurist, if you will…the spirit is what you’re after, not the minutiae…” (from a 2010 interview) ZAPP attack, fool!!! Fresh like that bar of lemongrass soap some rasta just sold you at the farmer’s market, and hot like a basket of deep-fried pickle chips, Damon ‘Dâm Funk’ Riddick fashions funky templates so fly you almost forget how bad most popular music blows these days; for real, to enjoy his 5xLP debut Toeachizown is akin to eating a foot-long chili cheese dog, made with some Nathan’s Famous love, and washing that down behind a side of tater-tots and strawberry lime-ade (yes, I’ve been hitting up the Sonic a lot lately, so what?!). By that, I mean that his tunes go down easy, but they are filling, both for your mind & body--- homeboy is making an effort to educate people on the finer things in life, like vibing with the life-force, and synthesizers of all shapes and sizes. We are living in the middle of some strange-ass times people, a transition to be sure, so it’s reassuring to know the world has people like Damon to spread the love!
from the 7” single, Chrysalis Records, 1978
Scorned by punks, adored by critics and horny pubescent boys (one in the same?), Blondie was always something of a paradox no matter how you looked at it: sanitary but vulgar, cherubic and demonic at the same time, approachable yet downright coldly post-modern; quite frankly, it helps to know that Debbie Harry was gobbling down Quaaludes and smoking mad dust through much of the hoopla, genuinely not giving a fuck about the haters. As contrived as some snobbish heads might make you believe their music was, Blondie really just lived it, carving their own niche inside a NYC scene that was rather bloated with bands trying to out-shock or out-nasty one another. Listening to the lyrics of this track now, in the age of texting & smart phones, leaves me awash in mental pictures of the recently distant past, “…I’m in the phone booth, it’s the one across the hall; if you don’t answer, I’ll just ring it off the wall…” I read somewhere the other day that pay phones are probably on their way out, relics of a non-digital past, as it costs more to service them than they bring in. Weird man…
from the 12” single, Sound of New York Records, 1982
This is the real deal folks, a track whose title summed up an entire generation’s wishes & pursuits in the dance underground, after “disco” became a dirty word, leading legions of fans and musicians alike on a pursuit for the groove (and only the groove, freed at this time from the constraints of mass consumption and, thus, populist demand); that quest, whether sought on the radio or inside a dark club, became an actual way of life for many, people seeking solace from an increasingly shady (and shaky) world, knowing full well the healing power of those magical beats. Indeep’s main writer and composer, a white boy named Michael Cleveland (word!), was already a dedicated fan of NYC’s burgeoning hip-hop scene, and he decided that rather than sampling an old disco track for a hip-hop song he would bring rapping into a disco-funk track, an experiment which proved to be both fruitful and climatic, as none of his other records came close to this level of success. “…and if it wasn’t for the music, I don’t know what I’d do…last night a DJ saved my life, last night a DJ saved my life with a song…” I wouldn’t be spending a grip of time compiling all these blog posts if I didn’t believe the truth within that preceding statement. Music is the answer.
from the LP Moving Pictures, Mercury Records, 1981
I’ve seen enough dinosaurs wheezing their way through current takes on their golden oldies to know that making a song (let alone an entire album) sound the same as it did on an LP thirty years ago is no small feat---and that’s just musically speaking, as I know better than to ever presume a singer’s pipes will remain intact after that much abuse. Thus, all of us were blissfully stunned last night upon receiving the sacrament which is a Rush concert at Red Rocks, because not only did they play through all of Moving Pictures with cyborg-like precision, they also played another album’s worth of deep cuts as well, both challenging stuff (still in shock that they jammed on “2112”, fucking surreal man…) and standard fare (i.e. “Working Man” and a roiling rendition of “Subdivisions”); not to mention, Geddy sounded incredible, still hitting the highest notes without bluffing. The moment that legendary synthesizer chirped to life in the opening bars of this song, people just completely lost their shit man, it was bloody extraordinary!! “…no, his mind is not for rent, to any god or government, always hopeful yet discontent, he knows changes aren't permanent--- but change is…what you say about his company is what you say about society; catch the mist, catch the myth, catch the mystery, catch the drift…the world is, the world is, love and life are deep, maybe as his skies are wide…” Being a sociologist, this type of lyrical reflection on culture and society have always been a big part of my love for this crew, one in a small handful of successful rock bands to make it big without a focus on sappy love songs or party anthems. I know I’m gonna sound like an old fuddy-duddy here, but there just aren’t many band’s today who are talented enough to even get close to this shit (maybe Zombi or Astra being the exceptions, and even they are still pawing at the mantel), either in complexity or breadth of ability. Oh yeah, and Neil Peart is greatest drummer EVER, period.
from the LP Mecca & the Soul Brother, Elektra Records, 1992
Man, I can’t fucking believe that I hadn’t posted this one yet…yo, my bad, seriously. I can say without hesitation that Pete Rock is easily one of my top 5 favorite beatmakers ever! It’s not terribly often that a producer can lace some beats so dank & heavy that it makes your eyes well up a little bit, the collage of horns, bass & kick bringing the most reverent & regal of vibration, and it’s definitely a rarity for an MC to come with a flow so tough & fresh while managing to avoid the customary self-promoting braggadocio one always expects from street rhymes. For one reason or another, CL Smooth has sort of become an undervalued rapper, even though his skills easily stand up with the Q-Tips of the world; Pete Rock, on the other hand, has consistently sat high in both critical & fan circles, albeit existing happily in the underground. This particular number, an absolute masterpiece, was composed in memory of one of Heavy D’s boyz, Trouble T-Roy, (Pete Rock, from a 2007 interview) “…I had a friend of mine that passed away…I was kind of depressed when I made it, and to this day, I can't believe I made it through, the way I was feeling… when I mixed the song down, I had Charlie Brown from Leaders of the New School in the session with me, and we all just started crying…” I suppose knowing this is the reason that saxophone always transports my mind backwards, thinking about fallen friends & family, being grateful for all the close calls that fell in our favor. Hip-Hop doesn’t get much better than this one people.
from the EP Bright City Lights, Tuff Em Up! Records, 2010
I realize this song made the rounds on a grip of blogs a while back, but it’s so fucking silky smooth that it deserves to stay in rotation all damn year in my opinion! With a thundering bassline that would make Patrick Cowley proud & and synthesizers tastefully mangled slop-chop style, this burner is a rather ambitious and all around epic affair for someone’s debut release--- and goddamn right too, because it’s clear that Chilean artist Barretso isn’t fucking around with any foreplay, he’s going directly for the money shot. Not only does he serve as the composer & producer of the tracks on this EP, he’s the one singing as well, doing a bangup job at channeling that coke-fueled anthemic ‘80s vibe which lays at the root of this entire ‘chill-wave’ explosion. There is a forthcoming full length slated for release later in the year, and gauging by the tracks he has posted on his myspace page, it’s not going to let up on the velocity at all; buckle up and pump this one on the highway for full effect...
from the LP Suicidal Tendencies, Frontier Records, 1983
Got together with a close friend from my adolescence yesterday, and the trip down memory lane has left my head spinning a bit; although we hadn’t seen each other in over a decade, it felt just like old times---well, apart from the beautiful & intelligent daughter she brought along with her, that was new. Me & S had actually dated for a brief time way back in high school, and she was one of the people who had written to me during my time in hell (see: abusive evangelical boot camp outside the country), which still means a lot to me actually. All out-going & in-coming mail was read, much like jail, only they had even stricter rules down there regarding what would be allowed through: for example, if you got a letter from someone not on the “ok” list, or a note that mentioned rock music or a TV program or something which could potentially take one’s mind away from their attempts at brainwashing, you weren’t allowed to have it. However, they kept those letters, and when you are finally freed they hand them all back to you---I can’t put into words swell of emotions I felt upon looking at that bundle of envelopes, after 27 long months of torture, knowing that my friends not only remembered who I was, but they wondered where I had gone & they had missed me. In all honesty, it was the strength I needed to handle fallout from the PTSD, something which I still struggle with to this day, albeit to a much lesser extent now. S gave me lots of updates on some of our other friends or yore, and similar to my experience in Florida around Xmas, it’s left me with a renewed intention to seek out some more people from my past---not merely due to some voyeuristic desire to see what they’re doing, but to thank them most heartily for supporting me at a time in my life when I needed it the most. This track, from one of the loudest punk-metal bands ever: Suicidal Tendencies, hits home with any of us (by now, surely a sizeable number) who were locked away as kids because we were different, or rebelled against our parent’s wishes; if someone reading this has recently gone through a similar type of experience, take heed my brother or sister, I know how you feel, and I can promise you this: things do get better!
from the 12” EP Inteference, Metroplex Records, 1988
Darker, more nuanced, and often slightly faster than it’s cousin down in Chicago, early Detroit techno producers were still primarily concerned with their tracks being danceable at this stage, something which went out the door a long time ago in the world of techno; quite frankly, these early cuts have much more in common with house music than with the last 15 or so years of “techno”. Remember, before raves became common place in the US and the demographic of listeners changed (mostly to white), techno music was primarily a black, heterosexual, inner-city nightclub scene, so the music still needed to be groovy enough that the whole crowd could get down to it. One thing which great techno records have never lost is their ability to put subtle effects and sounds in the front of the track without compromising the bottom end, a trick which Juan Atkins (aka Model 500, with Kevin Saunderson & Derrick May) might do better than any other producer on the planet, and as this song skillfully illustrates, an aptitude he’s had since the very beginning. A venue where one would have been likely to hear this record played, back in the day, was on a cable access dance program in the Detroit area called the New Dance Show, and I encourage all of you to follow this link and get a clear idea of just how much techno has changed in the interim: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOlKS1VX6yU&feature=related
from the LP Marcus Garvey, Island Records, 1975
While it’s true that Bob Marley, and to a lesser extent Peter Tosh, were the vehicles through which I became familiar with reggae music, it was the compositions of one Winston ‘Burning Spear’ Rodney that catapulted my interest in roots from that of a casual observer to the lifelong obsession of a passionate acolyte---not to the religion or anything, just the music. If I’m having a rough day or find myself struggling with a shitty attitude, there is scarcely a better remedy to be found than some uplifting roots reggae, because you don’t have to be a Rastafarian to grasp the simple yet vital importance of an idea like, “…try my best to live good, yes yes yes; try my best to do right, yes yes yes...” dig?! The interplay between the horn section & that fluttering flute has such a calming effect on the listener, as does the slow tempo which Rodney is well known for employing, all of the elements encouraging you to take it easy, take the high road, make the effort, but all in due time, no hurry mon. Wishing Sus’ a very happy b-day today, here’s to many more years of living good!
from the LP Zeca Do Trombone & Roberto Sax, Pirata Records, 1976
With a culture as large and diverse as theirs is, and an economy that just keeps growing & growing, it’s no surprise that everything is coming up roses for Brazil of late, scoring both the 2014 World Cup & the 2016 Summer Olympics. I can certainly enjoy the music of Brazil during any time of the year (in fact, there’s nothing quite like driving through a Colorado blizzard to the sounds of Gal or Os Mutantes), but there’s no denying that summer really gets me blasting these breezy vibes from my home and car stereo more than ever---not to mention, all the Caipirinhas and Dark-n-Stormy’s that such tunes tend to encourage the drinking of! The snappy drumming in this track is a breaks-head’s dream come true, tighter than a virgin at a prison rodeo yet somehow still remaining loose and funky; the brass is sharp as a tack also, and although I don’t know what they are saying (the title translates to “middle column”), that rhythmic style in which the frenzied chorus is dispensed pulls everything together impeccably. Viva o Brasil!!
from the LP Bridge of Sighs, Chrysalis Records, 1974
There aren’t many guitarists who have fully attempted to tackle Jimi Hendrix’s style of interplanetary electric blues, but arguably, no one has come closer than ax-man Robin Trower at nailing that driven, ‘out-there’ manic edge which proved so intrinsic to Jimi’s stringed visions; if truth be told, it took me a while to discover the depths of Trower’s abilities, as I’d been put off by the stuff he was up to in the ‘80s and was never all that moved by Procol Harum. Frankly, after one spin of this LP, no lover of the blues or rock music can deny his prodigious talent or his uncanny knack at soldering those two elements together in a way that doesn’t just imply a Hendrix influence, it fucking channels his spirit from beyond the grave. Perhaps haunted by that specter, Trower later moved away from this sound, but his early – mid ‘70s offerings where he’s backed by the driving rhythm section of Reg Isadore on drums & James Dewer on bass (who also handled the deliciously raspy vocals) will never lead you astray; the tempo switch around 3 minutes into this track is seamless, and the coda-solo Trower lays on us would possibly bring a tear to Jimi’s eye. If ya didn’t know, now you know, yo.
from the LP Medusa, Threshold Records, 1970
