It’s been a while since our last podcast (I have another one in the clip – Lee Fields and hopefully, Leon Michels, to be shared after they come to town in a few weeks). This one was recorded live in Los Angeles a couple of weeks back with Pat Thomas, author of the new Listen Whitey: The Sounds of Black Power 1965-75, as well as the companion CD of the same name.
Pat and I talked about how he got interested in looking at the music of the Black Power Movement, how Berry Gordy funded one of the most militant labels in that era, how the Black Panther Party had its own funk band and why Eugene McDaniels’s Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse sucks compared to Outlaw (diggers be damned).
It may not be obvious but I’m a big Rufus Wainwright fan. Mostly. I add that qualifier only because after obsessively listening to his first three albums in the early ’00s, I more or less lost tabs on him for the remainder of the decade, including at least 2-3 studio albums that – for reasons I can’t even explain – totally missed my radar.
So maybe it’s only appropriate that I’d be rediscovering him on his latest album, Out of the Game…given that this effort is produced by Mark Ronson and features many of the Daptone players on. It’s definitely not an intuitive partnership (which isn’t a bad thing) and it also doesn’t sound like what you might expect it to (also not necessarily a bad thing).
In a way, Out of the Game does have a retro appeal…but not drawn from the ’60s. There’s much on this album that’s thoroughly drenched in ’70s rock: Fleetwood Mac/Eagles, and E.L.O. Rufus has described this as his most “pop” album to date which I think is half-true…if the album had come out in 1975 as opposed to, you know, now. It’s not like Ronson and company are trying to make him sound like LMFAO.
Ironically, one of my least favorite songs on the album is the one that sounds most “Ronson/Daptone-y”, “Perfect Man,” and for me, it’s because the uptempo, snappy funk style doesn’t mesh with Rufus’s more baroque vocal style. But that aside, there’s much on here I adore, no song more than “Respectable Dive”:
Maybe it’s because I’ve had my own “Respectable Dive” moments (including with the woman now my wife). Maybe it’s because I like the ambiguity of the verses.1 Maybe it’s because it’s slow, haunting and gorgeous, like all of Rufus’s best ballads. Regardless, it’s one of my favorite Rufus songs of all time (which is saying a lot). He just has a remarkable gift for ballads with that instrument of his and while it may be an acquired taste…call me one of the acquirers.
Plus…he recorded a song about Rashida Jones.2 And he recorded a lovely tune for his daughter that doubles as an elegy for his late mother (see below)…which you wouldn’t think would be so affective if not for the subtle turn in the “last act” of the song. I hate being emotionally manipulated like that but I admire the craft.
So yeah, I’m feeling the album and glad to have finally revisited him. Hope you do too. Rufus Wainwright: Out of the Game
Honestly, I can’t tell if the song is about someone discovering his lover’s infidelity or simply about the timidity of disclosing one’s true feelings. ↩
(Editor’s Note: James Cavicchia last contributed to us in ’09, writing about MJ, and I’m delighted to have him as a regular contributor now, beginning with this review of the new “Personal Space” compilation, curated by Dante Carfagna and released jointly by Chocolate Industries and the Numero Group. I have a review of this same album coming out on NPR in a week or so. –O.W.)
“Shouldn’t real freedom include freedom from memory?” – Geoffrey O’Brien
Shouldn’t the personal be able to exist outside of the historical? Shouldn’t the individual expression be allowed to be truly the work of the individual? Why should the actualization of a singular vision require so many others? Why should sonic mass and its legitimizing effect upon the occupation of the popular ear be denied the single musician? Why must “full-sounding” music come with the expense of strings, horns, choruses? Why must the black musician in particular be required to ensure that his work leaves at least a breadcrumb trail between it and The Blues, or The Church, or Jazz, or The Cause? Must there always be all these walls to get around, all these people to pay, all these ghosts to answer to?
At the spine of this astounding collection is the ostensibly unburdening effect of affordable studio technology—synthesizers, drum machines, high-quality recording—as manifested in private soul music from the mid-seventies to the mid-eighties. The irony is that while the empowerment provided by these machines of ahistorical and unindebted process does indeed allow for the expression of a more truly individual sensibility and the creation of a more intimate atmosphere, from this reduced reliance on humans comes also a reduced invocation of them. There is the inescapable sense that without the technology we would never have been able to hear such personal work, but that this same hand of technology has created within the work an alienating distance.
I have an inexplicable habit of constantly under-regarding Dusty’s catalog…it’s as if every time I discover a cool new track by her I try to remind myself, “this is Dusty Springfield. She’s only one of the greatest soul artists in UK history. She probably has more stuff worth checking for.” But inevitable, I forget this small little point. This LP is just the latest reminder that I should pay closer attention, especially since its “sister” album is something I reviewed, uh, six years ago.
It’s closer to a comp than an LP, mostly because Philips more or less cobbled it together two years after half the principle cuts had already been recorded. There’s something like 8 producers at work here – including the Atlantic powerhouse trio of Wexler, Mardin and Dowd – and even once Philips finally put it out, it was never released in the U.S.
There’s some decent ballads on here but what caught my attention are the two funk covers, both backed by Derek Wadsworth’s orchestra. “Crumbs Off the Table” finds Dusty taking on “Crumbs Off the Table,” a song most probably associate with Laura Lee but Dusty actually recorded her cover two years before Lee; both women were covering Glass House’s original from ’69. For my money, the instrumental track from Dusty’s crushes here, even more so than Glass House’s original. So ill. And Dusty brings it rather hard here (well, for her at least).
The other cover I was drawn to was Dusty taking on Betty Wright’s “Girls Can’t Do What Boys Can.” I don’t think Springfield touches the source material here but we’re talking about one of Wright’s greatest tunes from the ’60s but that said, I love hearing Dusty over this particular vocal arrangement. It’s unlike most of the songs I associate with her but she sounds completely at home with it. Far as I know, neither one of these were ever released on single; pity!
I recently got an email from the conguero of Jungle Fire, a L.A.-based Afro/Latin-funk band and he was kind enough to send along a couple of new tracks for me to peep. I just hit play without checking the song title and realized, “holy sh–, they’re covering Phirpo!” 1
Given that I think the Phirpo LP is pretty much thebest Latin funk album ever, it’s cool to hear a contemporary tackling them…and doing it so well, with all the verve and ferocity of its source material. I don’t know if Jungle Fire plans on releasing this on 7″ but for my sake, I hope they do.
(Editor’s note: Over the next few weeks, you’ll see some new voices joining us here at Soul Sides. Today is the debut of Dave Ma, who runs his own outstanding music blog, Nerdtorious, and he’s offering his take on the new 2-CD anthology chronicling the best of the Perception/Today catalog. –O.W.)
The new anthology, The Best of Perception & Today Records, opens with Dizzie Gillespie’s “Matrix”, a song penned by Gillespie’s pianist, Mike Longo. Gillespie’s rendering is harder, funkier than Longo’s original and that may be why artists like the Beatnuts and others lifted it as sample fodder. It’s also likely the only Gillespie song to ever anchor a Gap ad.
The compilation — released by BBE and compiled by DJ Spinna — isn’t just recognizable samples however; it covers the short but expansive history of Perception Productions, who, along with its subsidiary Today, ran for a mere five years as the ‘60s entered the ‘70s yet supported an impressive hodgepodge of acts in such a short run. Along the way, they captured both marquee names in the twilight of their craft and young, bold musicians who’d forge full careers thereafter. Giants like Gillespie and Astrud Gilberto certainly added acclaim but also added equally big recordings; Gilberto’s revered “Gingele” is an obvious standout as is the fluttering, mid-tempo funk number, “Alligator” where we hear Gillespie in a rare, contemporary setting.
Having towering figures aboard were surely something of a coup but small acts recruited for ‘one-off’ releases were equally exuberant. Wanda Robinson, a Baltimore-based poet recorded for the label in which “Instant Replay” and “A Possibility (Back Home)” are included. “Find The One Who Loves You” by the Eight Minutes, a group aiming to ape the sound and success of the Jackson 5 ultimately made slower, intimate songs as the label tried cornering markets other than jazz. Pop singer Bobby Rydell’s “Honey Buns” is a bright spot and apparently unlike any of Rydell’s previous work. Swooping, stabbing strings on “I Keep Asking You Questions” by Black Ivory, a group fronted by a young Leroy Burgess, lend their own take on the emerging Philadelphia Sound.
More great moments are peppered throughout. Julius Brockington’s version of “Rock Steady” by Aretha Franklin is a surprise and one of the comp’s strongest cuts. The signing of Bill Curtis, legendary drummer for the Fatback Band, adds “Dance Girl” and “Nijia (Nija) Walk” to the selections. Others like Debbie Taylor’s “Too Bad To Tell”, Tyrone Washington’s “Submission”, and James Moody’s “Heritage Hum” round out the already stout release.
With jazz, soul, and funk (and overlaps of the three) coming from such a diverse cast, it’s hard to tell you’re essentially hearing a jazz label adapt to shifting musical trends. Later releases stubbornly held on with undercurrents of jazz but the majority of the songs defined its makers and certainly are some of the finest of its era.
A few recent 7″s that have stuck in heavy rotation for me…
I first heard “Pretty Baby” by the C.O.D.’s on a deep soul mix years ago but had largely forgotten about it until recently, when I was hanging at my man Hua’s crib in BK and this was in his stack of new arrivals. So good. Seriously, this absolutely hits that sweet spot for me with the falsetto harmonies and the backing track. Love, love, love this. 1 Best yet: this is a stupendously cheap 7″; you can get a mint copy for $10-15 which is an insane steal for a song this good.
Speaking of deep soul, Ann Sexton’s cover of Jean Wells’s “Have a Little Mercy On Me” is also on my current list of “best things ever.” I don’t want to start a fight in saying that I actually prefer Sexton’s version over Wells’s, even though I think the horns are pretty killer on the OG. But Sexton sells the anguish on this version better for me and both songs make strong use of a bassline that drags you into the emotional murk.
On a slightly more uptempo note, we have Lionel Robinson’s rare-ish first single, “Steppin’ Out.” Super-solid early ’70s gutbucket funk with an opening breakbeat (extended into 8 bars for DJing purposes; the original is just 1 bar) and slick bass work before the chicken-scratch guitar and Robinson’s vocals drop in. The instrumental version replaces the vocals with some sizzling organ work.
Last, we have the killer crossover tune, “Got TO Get Through To You” by the TSU Tornadoes. I know the band is better known for their funkier stuff but this is, by far, the best thing I’ve yet heard from their catalog. It wields a lovely verve, doesn’t it? Not quite joyful but practically giddy in its energy.
Larry Brownlee was the key guy in the group and it’s worth noting that he can also take credit for another deep soul masterpiece, the Lost Generation’s “Sly, Slick and Wicked.”↩
Honestly, I have no idea what took me so long to track down a copy of the original “Batucada Por Favor.” I originally heard it on this 1998 comp from Mr. Bongo and for many years, when I was DJing in S.F., I would always keep this cut close by. But strangely, I didn’t remember to find an original copy until relatively recently (it doesn’t show up that often but it’s also not that obscure).
Ok, enough with the boring “procurement” details. Here’s all you have to know: this song kick ass and if it doesn’t turn your party out at the top of the night, you need to question your crowd. The genius with this song is how it builds the tempo quite steadily, using the whistle breaks as an excuse to jack up the BPMs until the song hits this fever pitch/pace…then the band slows it all the way back down, only to rebuild it again, but this time at a quicker rate. It’s basically a DJ set in a single song.
Notably, Azzam’s original was also the inspiration for Los Ladrones’ 2004 cut which is a slightly more modern take on the tune, though listening to these two side by side, the energy of Azzam’s totally smashes on the rather smoothy-smooth style of Los Ladrones. OG wins again.
