from the LP Look Out for #1, A&M Records, 1976
Awwwwww shit! Do you wanna know where the smooth boogie ‘80s really got started? You wanna know about the zone that gave Prince his whole fucking template?? Do you wanna groove your body around and smile ‘til your face hurts??? Well my brothers & sisters, look no further than the altar of the Brothers Johnson: George on guitar and Louis on bass. Slick & polished though this song may be, as was a sizeable chunk of their output, things never sound uptight in the least, allowing for the room to be loose even within the confines of a clean sounding track (some of those props must be equally shared with the producer here, Mr. Quincy Jones). The lead guitar gets kind of buried in the mix, but listen for it, because it’s about as funky & relaxed as they come, and that squiggly polysynth pushs all the right buttons. This song is like a mantra for me here at the Honeypot, striving to be a consistent source of good vibrations, “…I’ll be good to you, good to you, good to you…”
from the LP Think Pink, Sire Records, 1970
As we’ve previously discussed, the term “psychedelic” carries with it many varying connotations which may or may not be appropriate for any given instance of its use, but in the circumstance of drummer John ‘Twink’ Adler, that word becomes more of a life goal than an adjective. In other words: he composed drug music about people on drugs, made by individuals that were themselves high on various hallucinogenic substances, and largely crafted for others who indulge in the same behavior. Part-time member of the seminal Pretty Things & also Hawkwind, co-founding member of both Tomorrow and underground favorites the Pink Fairies (a crew whose legendary drug-related antics made even the boys in Hawkwind seem a bit square by comparison), Twink was also one of the few friends of Syd Barrett who truly remained close by him after his firing from the almighty Floyd and during his mental dissolution, urging him to continue on with musical endeavors until Barrett could play no more. Speaking of Pink Floyd, several tracks found here on Twink’s debut solo effort feel like the perfect union between their work in the years following this (i.e. Meddle or Obscured By Clouds) & the lysergic orchestration of the Moody Blues stuff just previous to this, and no other track illustrates that concoction of vibes better than this one; the contrast of an acoustic and blazing electric guitar, the sweeping ambiance, echoed singing, a touch of violins and majorly mushroomy lyrics, “…standing tiptoe on the highest hill, watching dawn give birth to the light, I cry…” Anyone who has watched the sun rising during the peak of your trip knows well the impact of such an event while under that influence, so for those uninitiated in the weirding way, rest assured, this is no exaggeration.
from the LP Fear of a Green Planet, Lion & Roots Records, 1998
Have I mentioned lately my deep love of the hashish…? I know, I know, “how many more times can this dude post about his affection for the full-melt bubble?!” It’s just so extraordinary to me how many different ways you can consume marijuana, and that extra kick to the dome-piece one receives from indulging in hash or kief sometimes swiftly reminds us that, indeed, THC is a drug (it’s easy for a chronic user to forget this). “This one will lift you higher than high…” Along with being a potential advertising campaign slogan for high-grade hash oil, that’s also the promise of producer Adrian Sherwood & his veteran collective Dub Syndicate, who have been melting heady minds since the mid ‘80s with their brand of progressive dub atmospherics; I must say, those solemn violins really do take things to the next level for me.
from the 7” single, Seaside Records, 1973
Without a doubt, the Bay Area funk scene has always been prone to many other musical influences, fashioning a healthy range of performers who like(d) to color outside the lines but sought the groove above all things: Sly & the Family Stone, Graham Central Station, Tower of Power, et al. Out of this heady stew came many musicians that never gained the kind of notoriety those listed above got to enjoy, perhaps most unfairly so in the case of the guitarist heard here, one Eugene Blacknell. Now it’s true, I could listen to those four measures after the intro (between 18 & 28 seconds into the track) on a loop for days, probably not even get hungry of suffer from malnutrition thanks to the elephantine levels of FATness resisding in those dank-ass breaks, but unlike many other breaks-tracks that leave much to be desired when it comes to the rest of the song, this funky instrumental number brings some hot shit care of Blacknell’s searing, fuzzed-out soloing (the likes of which sound almost similar to some of Carlos Santana’s bluesier riffing from back then, especially when taken as a whole with the percussion & organ). In the proper, ahem, “state of mind”, this one can really take you there…
from the LP Motörhead, Chiswick Records, released: 1977, recorded: 1975
Anyone who manages to get kicked out of Hawkwind for their drug use, particularly given the excessive levels of chemical alteration that band was known for (it’s not as if they were a prohibitive scene), well, they’ve gotta be one crazy ass motherfucker--- all things considered, I’d say that title could be fittingly used to describe Ian ‘Lemmy’ Kilmister without much debate. Left to his own devices, Lemmy went about assembling a few of his friends that shared a passion for loud music, motocycles & amphetamines, calling themselves: Motörhead. These guys were an important cog in the primitive wheels of both heavy metal and proto-punk, bringing a level of trash & speed to their crunching hard rock that was rarely seen anywhere else at that time, something which proved to be very inspirational. Their sound got faster and harder with time, but this is some pretty fucking gnarly stuff for 1975. The cover art says all you need to know.
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 12” single, Radar Records, 1984
Some songs have the tendency to captivate---whether it’s the numerous layers, or the particular chord progressions, or simply the reckless abandon with which they are inspired & recorded through---an ability to capture our inclusive attention, forcing the other thoughts inside our Byzantine minds to submit, rhythms and sensations of the universe. Damn dude, admittedly wasted here… Cannabis & alcohol have such an interesting synthesis, seemingly variable to the set & setting, but always pummeling in nature, and it’ll be seven days ‘til Sunday before the right words get collated to amply describe the vibe. Anyways, my trashy-afternoon ass is all kinds of hooked on Barbara Fowler, because this diva can sing, not to mention the infinite amount of synth-tastic accoutrements that this bumpy track brings, a true feast of kicks. Zigga-zigga zow.
from the LP Faith, Columbia Records, 1987
Hindsight is always 20/20 isn’t it---I mean, this track seemed typical enough back when it got dropped as a single, especially given the sexy music video (part of which was shot in black & white) which starred Mr. Michael as a furry taxi driver who is smoking cigarettes in every scene and pursuing some stunning brunette, high-fashion model. Granted, the sexual nuances inherent to lyrics like, “…that's all I wanted, but sometimes love can be mistaken for a crime…I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine; I will be your preacher, teacher, anything you have in mind… I'll be your daddy, whoa, I will be the one who loves you, ‘til the end of time…” can be construed to fit both gay & straight relationship templates, but given the entire circus of fun that was Wham, maybe we shouldn’t have been so surprised. At any rate, this song is the definition of ethereal sensuality, from the finger-snaps to the breathy vocal delivery to the moody piano---it all screams sweaty fucking on the floor & blow jobs by candlelight.
from the 12” single, Trax Records, 1986
It’s incredible to watch drama unfurl in academia--- not in the classroom however, but in the department; when you get that many brilliant people all shuffling around for power and respect, things can get mighty ugly from time to time. Unfortunately, it must be that time again, because shit got wacky here recently, mainly a small cluster of big-headed tenure-track faculty that are attempting to pull a quasi-coup; thankfully, the chair is squarely in our corner on this one, so those whiny fucks will just have to relax a little bit, lose some control as it were. The history of this particular track is also wrapped in drama, with 2 of its 3 creators claiming the construction of that wonky bassline: Mike ‘Adonis’ Smith and, more credibly, Marshall Jefferson (I say that because Vince Lawrence, the other part of this crew who was there, claims that Marshall's version of history is the right one), whose lack of ability in programming the 303 is what’s responsible for the funky roll; supposedly, it was on tape and playing at the Music Box before he even met Adonis. Alas, dealing with big egos can be an awfully difficult endeavor, no matter what the setting I suppose. Grab the headphones for this one, and let that vintage acid attack bubble bath take you away.
from the LP Here Come the Lords, Pendulum Records, 1993
Man, this one takes me back…I can almost smell the sweet-soggy funk of schwag burning in a White Owl or Optimo cigar casing, emulating what we were all seeing in the rap videos around this time but, frankly, made perfect sense (practically speaking) to serious potheads who were looking to get as high as possible; admittedly, when they inquired “…could it be the skunk weed that makes us oh so funky…”, the answer for me & my friends at that time would have been mostly “no”---for us, these were the days of $80-a-zip commercial trees, only rarely scoring an eighth (or less) of what they called “Krypie” in Florida back then (essentially just kind bud). Even though many of us have plausibly become weed snobs in the decades since, no one can really knock smoking ‘mersh in a blunt, because it does get you mad high!! This track, by New Jersey-based crew the Lords of the Underground, wound up on a grip of mixtapes I made for friends back in the summer of ’93, and it still bangs hard as fuck today.
from the 12” single, Megatone Records, 1982
Two days ago would have been renowned synth-master & producer Patrick Cowley’s 60th birthday, had his life not been tragically cut short by AIDS in late 1982. This track, which is sung by one of his closest friends (the legendary disco-drag performer Sylvester), was one of the last major pieces he helped put together, largely from his bed. Cowley was always something of a workaholic, and he worked his ass off until he literally couldn’t move any longer; he always managed to blend his many synthesizers & drum machines together into a sharp clarity of vision that feels both uplifting and assertive. In a cruel twist of fate, Sylvester also wound up contracting the AIDS virus and passed away later in the decade---it’s difficult to even fathom how many amazing people have been lost to this horrible illness. May they both rest in peace.
from the 7” single, Korova Records, 1980
Sociologist Erving Goffman spoke at length about what he called the dramaturgical sociology, positing that all human beings were essentially actors in the movie of life, presenting ourselves in the manner to which our setting or role of the moment demands, managing our impressions in the eyes of other observers---even if someone chooses to rebel against the norms in a given culture, one does so as a reaction to the set expectations, and in so doing they act out rebellion in the ways which other “rebels” have already displayed for them, proving thus to be just as inclined to have societal forces guiding their moves. The actors in any given exchange who have power or leverage (the dominant class) often have the ability to exercise greater control over what the subordinate actors do, say, or even think, making a dramaturgical impression of puppetry rather than proper theater. It’s no fun being a puppet, whether individually or as a member of an oppressed group or subculture, and some of us have a greater propensity to resist authority than others; if I had to guess, I would wager that singer Ian McCulloch (the metaphorical ‘Echo’ leading the Bunnymen) is that kind of guy, someone who doesn’t like to be told what to do or how to be cool. He had originally been paired with Britain’s other resident psychedelic mess, one Julian Cope, but neither were willing to back down from one another’s visions enough to fashion that creative tension into a functional template, so Cope fired Ian, and the rest is history; frankly, as much underground cred as Mr. Cope has garnered over the decades, I think it was his loss. The Bunnymen’s guitarist, Will Sergeant, had an atmospheric approach to the lead role that wound up having an enormous impact on everyone from Peter Buck to the minimalist master himself, Johnny Marr. These guys grew in popularity as the decade progressed along, but it’s these early psych-based cuts that I love the best.
from the 12” single, Factory Records, 1984
The musical cross-pollinations that were part & parcel to the British post-punk scene never paid much mind to any rules or regulations, sometimes resulting in overly stuffed pieces that fell flat to even the most experimental of ears, but often achieving the kind of far-reaching, genre-defying pastiches which made you both groove and question your allegiance to any one scene or sound. Manchester, for all it’s talent, was still a fairly small town, particularly for those that were “alternative”, so I guess it shouldn’t be too surprising that Factory Records would wind up signing a boogie jazz-funk crew like 52nd Street (the drummer from A Certain Ratio is the brother of these guys’ bassist); in all honesty, a grip of post-punk cuts from all over England belie an obvious affinity for disco and electronic post-disco music, so this wasn’t even a stretch I suppose. This particular single was produced by Stephen Morris, drummer for Factory’s biggest selling group New Order, and his fingerprints are all over the place (namely those synth-drum rolls), but it’s the vocal stylings of one Diane Chalemagne that pushes this number from standard banger to being an all-out funktastic classic; notably, she later became the voice of Goldie’s early hits, including his renowned “Inner City Life”.
from the LP Jazz at Massey Hall, Debut Records, 1953
These cats were SO high yo… Jazz, to my knowledge, was the first genre of modern music to be inextricably linked with cannabis use, and there’s little doubt as to the immense influence weed had over the nature of the music---not regarding the talent of the players mind you, but more in the unpredictable directions that said chemical influence led them. This concert at Toronto’s Massey Hall is legendary for a reason, just look at the cast of famous characters: Dizzy Gillespie (horn), Charlie ‘Bird’ Parker (sax), Bud Powell (keys), Charlie Mingus (bass), & Max Roach (drums). There may have never been a greater assortment of talent during the bop era than what you hear on this record; that’s not to say that it’s the best singular performance by each one of the players, but to have witnessed such a session would have been about as good as it got back then---and that’s pretty damn good! More research should be done exploring the relationship that cannabis has with creativity, specifically pertaining to the musical experience, because its impact shouldn’t be underestimated.
from the LP Underground Vibes, Street Jazz Productions, 1995
Laurent ‘DJ Cam’ Daumail has often been called the DJ Shadow of France, and although that comparison is a bit misleading (Cam has always been far more interested in jazz records, where Shadow has leaned much heavier on the funk tip), it works well enough to give one an idea of just how massive Mr. Daumail’s skillset really is. His dexterous pairing of portly drum breaks with numerous snippets of ephemeral jazz décor has resulted in some of the dankest beats ever dropped, on either side of the ocean! Thinking about it, one would perhaps be more accurate to compare Cam’s work with the nuanced masterpieces of Japan’s DJ Krush, at least in his ability to show restraint without sacrificing the density of the cut. Cam is still dropping fresh, phatty beats to this very day, evolved somewhat from what you hear here, but remaining very closely related. This track isn’t just a smart title either---this is music for getting blunted to.
from the LP Argus, MCA Records, 1972
Autumn is easily my favorite season, perhaps increasingly more so as I continue to get older, the funny colored leaves & unruly winds really ignite my imagination like no other time of the year, the visible persistence of time, in motion. We all contain varying levels of wanderlust, remnants from our vagabond past perhaps, and something about this evocative term annually conjures that nomadic spirit like feedback inside our subconscious amp. Crafting big boogie blues-rock with major progressive leanings, Wishbone Ash was easily one of the more memorable (and unique) hard rock bands of the 1970s, bringing an ambiance which felt aged, but not stodgy, almost mystical in places; ultimately, their songs feel comfortably familiar & reminiscent---I mean, everybody can relate to lyrics like, “…in my dreams everything was all right, in your schemes you can only try…”! They were never concerned with singles, something which has unfortunately doomed them to near-obscurity in the States, mainly because they have been wholly ignored by classic rock radio, which sucks; their dual-lead guitar attack, care of Andy Powell & Ted Turner, was one of the first, and they remain among the all-time best at achieving a perfect balance between both players. Rock on.
from the 12” single, Beggars Banquet Records, 1982
Even though this sizzling hot 12” skillfully straddles a number of musical genres, none of them are particularly known for having notable (or even memorable) lyrics, and I can honestly confess that I probably listened to this track 20 or 30 times before something about the first verse caught my attention---is he saying what I think he’s saying?! “I know where I am, I now understand just who I really am; shy, oh not no more, I’ve felt that before, but now I’m a grown-up man...joy, yes I live joy, not being a boy, I’ll be a woman…life is gonna be magic, magic from now on…” Wow, not every day somebody writes a song about being transgender, major props to Side On, a British trio that shared two members with boogie-funk crew Freeez; to be honest, even the GLBT community has a long way to go in accepting, more fully, the trans- population. This isn’t exactly the type of music that Beggar’s Banquet was known for either, so I wonder if there’s a deeper story to all this…? In any case, it’s funky as hell, being open-minded and getting down, I dig it.
from the LP Jane’s Addiction, Triple X Records, 1987
Certain musicians come across deeply validating of one’s inner freak-flag, whether directly or intangibly, delivering songs which carry the heaviest freedom vibrations: Hendrix, Rage Against the Machine, The Pixies, The MC5, etc… High up on that list, for me anyways, is Jane’s Addiction; I stated in a previous post that listening to their music can almost be a spiritual experience for me sometimes, and I meant it---somewhere between the thud of their primordial rhythm section, the drive of Navarro’s guitar (cannot even believe solos he peels off here, the kid was still a teenager when this album was released for fuck’s sake), & the banshee-like wails which compose Perry’s inimitable vocal delivery, it just hypnotizes me in a deep way that few other bands manage to do. You can’t fuck with lyrics like these, “…way down low where the streets are littered, I find my fun with the freaks and the niggers...I love them whores they never judge you, what can you say when your a whore; they cast that pearl and it don't upset 'em, they take their chances if they get 'em…gimme some more, motherfucker, I need a little more, goddamn you…oh how I love them whores, oh how I love them whores…” Who else can get away with saying shit like that?! Not many bands have balls big enough to open with a live album---even though they had already been signed by Warner Bros, Perry wisely made sure to receive a contractual allowance to release this set, taped live at the Roxy in L.A., on an indie label, assuring them some underground cred outside of California before rolling out with a major label debut. Squares need not apply.
from the LP Look Out for #1, A&M Records, 1976
