from the LP Nothing But A Heartache, Deram Records, 1969
Maybe it’s just me, but nothing gives a lift to my chin & puts the pep in my step like a hot dose of soul music, and this striking mid-tempo cut by unsung trio The Flirtations is one of my favorites: recorded in London, by way of a NYC talent contest, these gals actually hailed from South Carolina originally, willing to follow the promise of success wherever it took them (and you can believe that swinging London in the late ‘60s would have seemed like another planet relative to the American South at that same time, let alone NYC); that devotion to a career meant they would abandon this majestic style of soul in the ‘70s when disco rose to the fore, but it’s these brass-heavy behemoths that really slay me to the core. “I’ve got a lot of those heartaches, I’ve had a lot of those teardrops…”
from the 7” single, P&P Records, 1976
This early release finds spaced out disco-soul deity Patrick Adams standing with his feet firmly planted in two worlds: the 4-part soul harmonies in the vocal track & the insanely epic disco dwelling within those strings & percussion, chronologically moving away from the former and into the later, and though it’s lacking his signature Moog craziness, this effort is no less amazing or ambitious for it’s absence… okay, maybe one of Adams’ signature squiggly synthlines could take this to another level, but it still kicks ass. The violins really steal the show here (don’t they always…), taking what comes across as a relatively sing-songy keyboard riff and turning it into a real swell of emotive force; not surprisingly, those strings got sampled in more than one late ‘90s house track.
from the 7” single, Buddah Records, 1970
What is there to say? It’s 2011, which my best friend & I decided sounds farther out and more sci-fi than 2010 for some reason, and although it would be nice to think we may all get a reprieve from the tumultuous chaos of this past year, things actually seem crazier than ever all around the world right now, so perhaps don’t hold your breath. That’s okay though, I always have hope, because as the prophet Cornell West says, “…hope wrestles with despair but it doesn't generate optimism, it just generates this energy to be courageous, to bear witness, to see what the end is going to be…no guarantee, unfinished, open ended…I am a prisoner of hope…I'm going to die full of hope, there's no doubt about that, because that is a choice I make…” Word.
from the LP Tim Maia, Polydor Records, 1976
The people of Brazil endured one of the modern world’s longest lasting military dictatorships (officially, between 1964 and 1985), a murderous and intractable regime which attacked creative people as if they were the devil themselves, forcing many to abandon ship for various periods of time, & coercing those who remained into a constant sense of tight-lipped accordance--- well, most people anyways. Some, like Tim Maia, hit the wall of resistance and came back with a different synopsis: fuck it man, I’m gonna be me. Although many Brazilian musicians of this time period sought to incorporate varying styles of popular music outside of the regime, most did so with the intent to keep samba or bossa-nova at the core; well, with Mr. Maia, that went out the door. He was primarily interested in creating a Brazilian version of American soul, flexible to the trends as they progressed (i.e. from outright “soul”, to funky soul, rockin’ soul, and disco-funk, etc…); frankly, his approach winds up feeling like the Doobie Brothers go to South America, and that’s meant as a major compliment. Tim Maia was a publicly avowed pothead, talking up the benefits of marijuana in almost any interview he gave, something which wound up making his life in Brazil somewhat thorny at times, but translates impeccably well in his music; not to mention, there weren’t too many individuals willing to harshly confront Roman Catholicism in those days (or now), “…everybody is the same…’cause there’s no heaven, there’s no God, ‘cause there’s no devil, there’s no hell…you are not better than me, and I am not better than you…” Thankfully, though he suffered through many physiological ailments in his time (diabetes, hypotension, et al.), Maia lived to see the restoration of democracy in Brazil---vivo o João Goulart, and long live freedom!!
from the 7” single, Buddah Records, 1971
With so many media sources telling them where to go, how to act, what to wear & who to like, it’s become increasingly difficult for young people to feel comfortable in their own shoes at any given moment, always plagued with an obligation to perform as life becomes gradually more plugged in 24-7, becoming something like a large-scale reality series. I’m glad to not be growing up in these times, and although they sometimes get on my nerves (what with those skinny-ass jeans making the college halls look like a damn parade of chicken legs…), I can empathize with these kids’ condition---it’s a tough time to be an adolescent. Famed multi-instrumentalist & singer Curtis Mayfield knew that troubling times often left the youth of our nation in the hardest of jams, and in many ways he spent his career speaking to those in need, shining a light for listeners stumbling through the dark; when he tells you to “move on up”, he isn’t speaking literally, dig? “…hush now child, and don’t you cry, your folks might understand ya, by & by; just move on up, towards your destination, though you may find, from time to time, complications…” Take heart my young brothers & sisters, war is not eternal, and neither are the judgments of other people---you are all beautiful. Word.
from the 7” single, Duo Records, 1969
We have no way of really knowing, but I’d be willing to bet that Amy Winehouse spent a bundle of time & effort studying every last nuance and subtlety found within the measures of this sassy number, analyzing the way that Chi-town native Sheryl Swope managed to sound both inebriated & pitch-perfect at the same time---granted, Ms. Winehouse didn’t have to try very hard to sound wasted, but I digress… This track always brings a smile to my face, a Fred Bridges production of the higest caliber, crappy audio transfer notwithstanding (sorry guys, this was as clean as I could get it). Ms. Swope makes the listener feel her love obsession in an organic way that leaves a distinct impression, unlike much of the hokey love stories that ‘60s soul music is known for; props to the background singers too.
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.
from the 7” single, Strider Records, 1966
One explanation people have for why the nascent rave scene found its footing in the Northlands (see: Manchester) earlier than the perhaps more-likely metropolis of London is the phenomenon of Northern Soul dance parties, all-night amphetamine driven dances which preceded raves (and, indeed, electronic music) by several years; having already been partially influenced, at least in dance styling, by the breakdancing movement, it’s conceivable that when house & techno music came along it was just a natural evolution into raves, by now having been well-used to the idea of getting chemically altered and dancing to music all night. Whatever the connection, the soul tunes they were boogieing down to certainly bore no resemblance to what came after---frankly, the sight of white working-class Brits grooving to mid ‘60s (mainly) black soul into the early ‘80s is strange enough on its own. These dances certainly did manage to stir up some of the most incredible, often rare, soul 45s ever put to wax though, typically fast numbers which would both feel good on speed & allow one to dance for hours, much like the number I have posted here; original copies of this 7” go for well over $200 at auction. Honestly, I could easily see some enterprising young head looping up the first few bars of this song, and then turning that into the basis for a phatty breakbeat track…
from the LP Hotter Than July, Motown Records, 1980
My love for Stevie’s music is unending, and although my personal taste trends more towards his chunky jazz-funk records from the early – mid ‘70s, pretty much anything this man has ever touched will get left alone if it comes on the radio in my home/car; his voice is like the best incense, getting deep into your mind & body, awakening the nerves from the top of your scalp to the soles of your feet. He had originally written this song for Motown back in the mid ‘60s, and it was even recorded (albeit, shelved and not released until recently) by Tammi Terrell at that time, but this version is far superior, soulful disco-funk at its very best. Those aren’t just some random studio hangers-on singing during the chorus either, as Stevie got melodic backing here from members of the O’Jays, the Gap Band, & none other than Michal Jackson; the Cleptomaniacs did a stellar house remix of this track which got heavy play in 2000. He gives us one of the best examples of that inimitable “Stevie stank” right around 2:42, delivered in such hardcore fashion one almost can’t decipher it (my guess is, “…gotta tell ya girl…”)!
from the 7” single, Wand Records, 1973
The longer I live, and remain monogamously coupled, the more firmly I believe that the core message within this song is actually essential to a strong lasting relationship, and that is: have as much, if not more of, the sincere confidence in your awesomeness as a couple as you do in your own personal life. The reality is, this tradition of being paired for one’s whole existence was developed at a time when the average life expectancy fell in the mid 30s, thus a “life” spent with one person only entailed a couple of decades, at most---so, it may follow that if you want something to last longer, perhaps one needs to set about believing in that vision from day one. I’m not saying to do this at the expense of good judgment or in ignorance of obvious obstacles which prove too large to surmount (if it’s broke, it’s broke), and I certainly don’t believe that long-term monogamy is a path for everyone, but I can say subjectively that I am a far better person with a partner in crime by my side. This uplifting little ditty was one of Norman Harris’ earliest productions, already displaying a feel for that inspirational, elevating vibe which he later became known for; mint copies of this 45 exchange hands for upwards of thirty bucks.
the LP ABC, Motown Records, 1970
Sad to hear of the passing of Gary Coleman earlier this week, particularly considering the tumultuous scenes which defined the latter part of his life, though his story is truly an American tale. He was often quoted saying that he wished he had never become famous, although one does have to wonder if it’s that simple---perhaps the more difficult journey comes once that fame has passed you by, although I admit that the idea of having cameras in your face, in perpetuity, would be enough to drive one nuts. I hope he was able to find some peace before he died.
from the LP Across 110th St, UA Records, 1972
The northern perimeter of Central Park, while looking very different today than it did back in 1972, remains a defined & recognized boundary between Manhattan and Harlem, as much a metaphor as it is an actual street---110th street in this case. Although that line has become largely gentrified & whitebreaded, back in the early ‘70s, Harlem’s side of the border was still a very rough & tumble place, crawling with the 3 Ps: pushers, prostitutes, & pimps. Whatever your feelings about blaxploitation movies, they hit the nail on the head for an increasing number of individuals who called the urban wastelands of the 1970s home; great choice grabbing Womack for this soundtrack, props to whoever made that call. This song was utilized to near-perfect effect in Jackie Brown, but I still recommend to any adventurous heads out there (who haven’t already done so), track down a copy of the original, and don’t be no jive turkey!
from the 12” single, Cheri Records, 1976
After falling in love with house music I set about trying to figure out & find all the original disco 12”s that served as the base of sampling from which so many top tunes were cut, a pursuit I am still very much engaged in, particularly since the infernet has made it considerably cheaper to do so. Original copies of this peppy disco-soul number still trade hands for over $200 in collector’s circles, so previous to our little party on the net it was one of those tracks that remained far better known to us modern heads as a cut-down sampled loop, most memorably in David Morales’ hit banger from ’98, “Needin You”. Now we can all enjoy the divine, and previously “rare”, pleasure (prescient name guys!) of an underground classic worthy of its own limelight.
from the LP Teddy Pendergrass, Philadelphia International Records, 1977
I just heard that soul crooner Teddy Pendergrass has succumbed to complications stemming from surgery for colon cancer, and the world has truly lost a legend with his passing, having had one of the deepest (in every way) deliveries around, raspy and guttural in a manner which was consistent with the decades this man spent singing his heart out---Mr. Pendergrass was ordained as a minister at the tender age of 10, and always sang in Philly-area gospel choirs previous to his breaking into the recording world. Renowned production duo Gamble & Huff worked real magic with this track, giving it a feeling of movement with those violins and that rubbery bassline, like walking down a bustling metropolitan street; DJ Sneak reworked this number into a stomping house track in the mid ‘90s, appropriately titled “You Can’t Hide from Your Bud”. The zen-like simplicity of his chorus actually packs a wallop upon further contemplation, “…you can’t hide from yourself; everywhere you go, there you are…” The human capacity to lie to oneself is seemingly endless, knowing full well that what Teddy says is true even though we often try so hard to believe otherwise, drunk on the success of fooling others and acting day to day from Kindergarten forwards; problem is, you can’t lie to yourself forever, so you might as well just embrace what’s there, because life is too damn short!
from the 7” single, Philly Groove Records, 1969
I could give a fuck about movie critic bullshit, or rabid fan idolatry for that matter, thus it’s always been interesting to handle the response I get when telling certain people that, all things considered, Jackie Brown is my favorite Tarantino related flick---yes, that includes True Romance, which comes in a close second, and no, it’s not just because Pam Grier happens to be the finest Nubian goddess walking the earth (not “foyne” like supermodel alien but rather, “fine” like normal human being or expensive silk), perhaps a descendant of the Thumpasourus people, from which all afrodelicness has emanated; maybe it’s just me, but she looks almost as hot coming out of jail as she does rocking that power suit, and the years in between the Blaxploitation days and her performance as Jackie Brown imbued her with an allure and sexual magnetism that no amount of baby oil & afro sheen could have produced in the ‘70s. For fuck’s sake though, she was even hot as Ayesha the Panther Woman in the craptacular Island of Lost Souls rip-off, The Twilight People!! Okay, moving on… Perhaps it was because I had just gone through some stranger than fiction type shit in the handful of years before the movie dropped, but I connected rather fervently with the characters and emotions explored in the plot, all of which left me surprisingly (at that time anyways) open to the soft, polished sound of the Delfonics heavy soundtrack; in all honesty, previous to this movie I had always considered the smooth Philly sound to be kind of boring, old people music. The lyrics here are broad enough to interpret in a number of ways, but the searing fuzz guitar in the background certainly leaves a hazy impression in one direction…
from the 7” single, Gordy Records, 1963
Ok, so I’ve been sitting here for about twenty minutes now, listening to soul tracks and trying to figure out how to translate what I’m feeling into words, and it’s not easy--- music that was made before one’s birth grants the listener a certain discretion and lenience as compared to the tunes you’ve lived through yourself. That creative license to compose fictional daydreams about older times seems to expand the farther you go back from your birth date, and it’s certainly no secret that most all popular music of the last 50 or 60 years (barring the truly far-out experimental stuff) has essentially just been the tinkering of people who were obsessed with musical history; “what’s past is prologue”, as Shakespeare would say. Martha Reeves and her pals the Vandellas layed down some of the greatest soul cuts to come out of Motown, with an urgency and vigor that set them apart from the Supremes; this story of love lost was their first successful single, beginning a string of hits that carried them well into the next decade.
from the 7” single, Roxbury Records, 1973
Seeing as how this holiday could be viewed as a sadistic celebration of the European genocide of this nation’s indigenous population, I usually tend to take a more literal interpretation of this day: giving thanks. What better way to express that gratitude than with a good old fashioned pig-out surrounded by those you love?! Anyone who knows me is well aware that I could go on for days about the importance of taking the time out to sit down with friends & family and eat a meal, holiday or not (yes, I fully support the slow food movement), and all the more fun when you cook the food yourselves; albeit, I typed that last bit while I was laughing out loud, recalling the Honeybaked ham and pre-baked pies sitting in the fridge that will be my offerings today. At any rate, I’m thankful to have loved ones both near & far, and I’m thinking of all of you today; basically, I’m appreciative to have an abundance of things for which I am thankful, a reality that is rather humbling when you stop and think about it. This smooth number by D.C. area crooner William DeVaughn really captures the right feel here, both in lyrical tone and his delivery, helped along by a young Vincent Montana Jr. on the vibraphone, and it’s actually most of MFSB backing him here; this song may also qualify as the first recorded mentioning of a “gangsta lean”. I hope everyone has a great day today, and remember, “…though you may not drive a great big Cadillac, gangsta whitewalls, TV antennas in the back; you may not have a car at all, but remember, brothers and sisters, you can still stand tall…just be thankful, for what you've got…”
from the LP There It Is, Polydor Records, 1972
I know, I know, not exactly the most predictable choice of tracks for my first James Brown post, but this number haunts me like the dope of which he speaks; certainly, in regard to the drug-related drama that surrounded him in the ‘80s and beyond, the ironic prescience of his words here cannot be lost. One of the latent outcomes of our government’s association with South Vietnamese warlords during the Vietnam War was an influx of high quality, low-cost heroin into the United States; not surprisingly, we rose to the occasion and statistics on heroin use began to climb steadily. This was James Brown’s response, perhaps thinking that his miraculous calming of Boston in the midst of the ’68 riots would precipitate his having some genuine impact over a generation’s decision to use H or not; sadly, his words fell mostly on deaf ears, and his own actions in the following decades would forever slight the impact of his message here.
from the LP Nothing But A Heartache, Deram Records, 1969
