HOTG Reviews: The Rarest of Ric & Ron, Herb Hardesty's Lost LP Found, and more....

Several impressive new reissue compilations have made 2012 a memorable year for collectors and fans of vintage New Orleans R&B. This time out, I’ll be reviewing two of them.

Also, as long as I’m in the reviewing mode, I’ve got short takes on a few relatively new albums by soul/funk artists mainly from New Orleans.

But, first, forward into the past....


From The Vaults of Ric & Ron Records: Rare and Unreleased Recordings 1958-1962, Rounder Records, 2012



Just about three years ago, I was contacted out of the blue by Adam Taylor, the eventual co-producer of this impressive collection. He had seen the blog and wanted to let me know that, at the behest of Rounder Records, he was in the midst of re-mastering the entire recording catalog of the short-lived but classic New Orleans record labels, Ric and Ron. Adam asked me for some help with getting discographies of the labels together, and I was happy of oblige and pleased to hear that Rounder was getting back to their reissue series on this material, which they had begun shortly after purchasing the original tape archives about 25 years ago.

The entire Ric and Ron project was actually just a fortunate by-product of Rounder’s involvement with New Orleans music in general at the time. Starting in the mid-1980s, the well-respected and still-vital Massachusetts-based American roots label began to get seriously into releasing new music by important, under-recorded New Orleans artists, including James Booker, Johnny Adams, Irma Thomas, Alvin ‘Red’ Tyler, Willie Tee and Earl Turbinton, the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Rebirth Brass Band, the Golden Eagles and Wild Magnolias. Their efforts soon became a monumental, long-term commitment to making high quality, locally recorded albums in a variety of genres highlighting some of the city’s best music-makers. It continues in some respects to this day (see the new CD reviews below). Guiding much of that enterprise has been Rounder’s go-to producer, Scott Billington, an arbiter of good taste and great grooves who deserves all the accolades he has received for his success in highlighting the deep pool of New Orleans talent and unique musical heritage that was being neglected, revitalizing the prospects of many older artists, and opening doors for some newer ones in the process.

As I’ve discussed here before, Ric and Ron were two of the earliest locally-owned independent imprints, started by Joe Ruffino in 1958 and operated until his death in 1962. They were responsible for launching the solo careers of a number of the city’s notable singers, including the sublime Adams and Thomas, along with Robert Parker, Warren Lee, and Skip Easterling. Popular more established names such as Eddie Bo, Edgar Blanchard, and Tommy Ridgley also recorded memorable material for Ruffino; as did a host of lesser known artists. The trove of tunes Rounder acquired consists not only of sides from a combined total of 71 singles the labels put out - plus one LP by Edgar Blanchard and his band, the Gondoliers - but also numerous unissued tracks from audition tapes, demos, alternate takes, and other completed but unused sessions. Appreciating the historical and cultural significance of what they had, Rounder assigned the oversight of many of the early collections to music journalist, historian, and author, Jeff Hannusch, who also provided brief, but informative notes on the artists and tracks. Their series of compilation packages on LPs, cassettes, and CDs quickly made Rounder an important player in the reissue market, as well.

Leading off was the 1988 two-album set, Carnival Time! The Best of Ric Records - Volume One, and We Got A Party! The Best of Ron Records - Volume One, which, along with the various compilations that followed, brought the music to many people who had never experienced it before. I know they got a lot of play on my radio show in Memphis through the years. In his notes to one of the early comps, Hannusch mentioned that there were unreleased tracks from the vaults that a future release would explore; but who knew that it would take so long to appear!

With this limited edition box set, which came about as a result of the recent digital re-mastering endeavor, Rounder has finally fulfilled that promise, and in a very hip way. They put the tracks onto ten freshly minted vinyl 45s! We have Adam and co-producer, Paul Kolderie, to thank for the concept and its execution, using the best of both modern and vintage technology.

Out of the twenty sides available, most are previously unreleased tracks; but two of the records have the master take of a song on one side and its demo version on the other. Thus, we get Eddie Bo’s classic “Every Dog Got His Day” that originally appeared on Ric 969 [It is titled “Every Dog Has Its Day” on the reissue], plus Al Johnson’s immortal Mardi Gras standard, “Carnival Time”, first released on Ric 969, both paired with their never before heard demos. The only other released version of a song included in the set is also by Johnson, “Lena”, the A-side of his very first single (Ric 956), that has a demo of another of his songs on the flip. All tracks have superb sound, of course, thanks to the expert remastering. As always, I strongly suggest listening through full range speakers or headphones to appreciate how well the pristine vinyl grooves deliver. You’ll get a sense of what it must have been like to be in the studio when the sessions were cut.

One spine-tingling example comes on Johnny Adams’ 1959 audition tape, where he informally runs down songs that he would soon record for the first single of his career. A young man of 26, who had only sung gospel prior to being coaxed into the studio by Dorothy Labostrie to sing two of her compositions, he was backed by just a guitar player (very likely Edgar Blanchard), and exhibited many of the amazing vocal attributes that made him one of the greatest soul singers on the planet. His composure, control, range, and purity of tone were flawless, especially on “I Won’t Cry” (on the tape, still called by its working title, “Oh Why”); and you hear every nuance. I’m sure it was a jaw-dropping experience for everyone in the control room that day; and it remains so.

Speaking of Edgar Blanchard, another bonus of this collection has to be the two fine instrumental originals he recorded with the Gondoliers, who also functioned as Ruffino’s house band for the first year or so of operation. The incredibly cool full session takes of “Blues Cha Cha” [featured here in 2006] and “Bopsody In Blues” were slated for release in 1959, but got bumped so that Ric could rush Adams’ first single out. It took over half a century to get them pressed! While the tunes did appear on one of Rounder’s earlier CD comps [Troubles, Troubles] back in the ‘80s, having them finally on an officially sanctioned, fabulous-sounding 45 [even if the labels are reversed on my copy!] is exceptionally sweet.

Other treats of note include four completed but unreleased tracks (on two 45s) by Eddie Bo that are good enough to make you wonder why they were passed over at the time. The best of them to me is the bouncy testimonial, “Satisfied With Your Love” [not the same song recorded by Barbara George later in the decade for the Seven B label]. Also interesting are two rockers by Paul Marvin (Marvin Geatreaux), an alternate take of “Hurry Up”, a song that appeared on his lone Ron release (#322), plus the previously unissued “Goofer”.

When I first got into the box, my only real question mark about the choices of material had to do with the inclusion of two early demo tracks by the great soul artist from Beaumont, Texas, Barbara Lynn, singing her own songs and accompanying herself on guitar. Found on an unmarked reel of tape in the collection by Adam and Paul, these jewels are surprising, since Barbara never had a release on Ric or Ron, or on any New Orleans label for that matter; but it is well-known that her original producer, Huey Meaux, recorded many of her early tracks at Cosimo’s with the best local musicians. I asked Adam if they had been forced to choose between Lynn’s demos and any unissued takes by Irma Thomas or Martha Carter, Ric/Ron’s only female artists; but he said they found no such leftovers, so it was an easy call.

I hope you can score a copy of the set before it sells out completely, as it probably will not be available again on vinyl. As for the complete remastering project covering all of the Ric & Ron original releases, Rounder has made them available for purchase, but only as mp3 files. No hard copies in the plans, it seems. While I highly recommend the music, I don’t have much praise for the compressed mp3 format, which by design discards sonic information. If you would like CDs or, at least, better quality flac files of all that great material for serious listening, an email campaign to Rounder might be in order.

The Domino Effect - Herb Hardesty & His Band - Wing and Federal Recordings 1958-1961, Ace Records, 2012




As my friend, George Korval, points out in his highly informative notes to The Domino Effect, this outstanding CD from UK-based Ace Records, New Orleans saxophone master Herbert Hardesty still does not have anywhere near the name recognition he deserves, even after more than six decades in the music business, the majority of them spent as the main soloist in Fats Domino’s legendary studio and road bands. His distinctively inventive reed work has been an integral part of numerous classic R&B and rock ‘n’ roll records; but sidemen are regularly taken for granted and overlooked by casual listeners, leaving intensive appreciation to a small but loyal core of music insiders and connoisseurs.

Things might have been different had the rare or never before issued tracks on this collection, featuring Herb as frontman, been heard by more, or any, of the public, at the time they were recorded, between 1958 and 1961. While on tour with Fats in the late 1950s, Herb made connections that resulted in a deal with the Wing label, a division of Mercury Records, for whom he wrote and recorded an album’s worth of instrumental material. The January, 1958 sessions were done in New Orleans at Cosimo Matassa’s studio, using some of the best local players, including members of Domino’s band. Yet, despite the excellent quality of the project, the dozen tracks that resulted were mysteriously not released; and the tapes sat forgotten on a corporate shelf until Korval finally tracked them down this century and helped arrange with Ace to release the songs in a package with sides from Herb’s handful of Federal 45s.

Not only are the tunes and performances exceptional on the Wing recordings, but the sound Cosimo got, as revealed through the utterly transparent digital mastering for this release, is among his very best engineering work, revealing the distinct character and dynamics of each instrument and riveting musicianship. And, speaking of the players, one of the many highlights on this CD is the appearance on every track of one of the greatest of New Orleans drummers, Cornelius ‘Tenoo’ Coleman, who played almost exclusively with Domino. Recording with Herb and other bandmates wasn’t very far outside that tight-knit musical world; but, all the same, it provides an opportunity to hear Tenoo in another setting, and displays what a versatile, strongly poly-rhythmic percussionist he was.

The remaining tracks collected on this album come from sessions Herb did that Federal Records released under his name on four singles in 1961. The tunes on the first two, “Beatin’ and Blowin’”/”69 Mother’s Place (#12410) and “Perdido Street”/”Adam and Eva” (#12423) had been cut earlier in New York City with jazz pianist Hank Jones, and again backed by members of the Domino rhythm section. The A-sides of those two Federal 45s had previously appeared as an enigmatic single issued without success by both the Paoli and Mutual micro-labels out of Philadelphia. The remaining Federal releases, “A Little Bit of Everything”/”It Must Be Wonderful” (#12444) and “The Chicken Twist”/”Why Did We Have To Part” (#12460) [featured here in 2005.] were recorded in Cincinnati by Herb and his Domino bandmates. The top sides were instrumentals; but both flips had guitarist Walter ‘Papoose’ Nelson, who would pass away not long thereafter, on vocals. As far as I know, those enjoyable sides were his only such turns on commercial releases.

Without question, this compilation too has my highest recommendation, and its availability on CD is a further plus. Vinyl does not seem to be an option for Ace at this point, but let’s not push it. The notes for The Domino Effect are exemplary, as I said, providing a detailed overview of Herb Hardesty’s life and career, thanks to George’s many interviews with the still sharp and active horn man, plus his other extensive research. Not only that, the photos, many provided by Herb himself, are priceless, especially the down and dirty cover shot!

On the other hand, the notes included with the Rounder singles are not quite as extensive and the overall design is more spare; but including the complete Rick and Ron discographies is a nice touch, if I do say so myself. Still, the equally revelatory content and limited edition vinyl format, fitted into a compact but sturdy box, make their package hard to resist for any collector or ardent fan.

I can only hope that the many insights provided by both of these well-presented, enlightening, and utterly enjoyable projects succeed in generating a new wave of knowledgeable fanatics about the robust, rewarding New Orleans music scene of the late 1950s and early 1960s. 

[Thanks to both Adam Taylor and George Korval for taking the time to let me know about their projects while in development, allowing me to hear the results, and providing additional details for these reviews.]

Some New Fish in the HOTG Radio Stream

As you may already know, the HOTG 24/7 webcast plays most all the music I’ve featured here since starting the blog in the fall of 2004. Once audio links are removed from a post, I transfer the files, ripped from my vinyl, to the webcast playlist for streaming. Occasionally, I also stock the stream with other groove-oriented tracks that come from my CD archives and might relate to particular posts, plus more or less current cuts from New Orleans-related albums that fit the HOTG spirit. I’ll even include a tune or two from non-natives once in awhile, as long as they have some local connections or are obviously inspired by the city’s rich musical legacy. Don't worry, no Asian carp will be jumping up in your face as you go with the flow.

Back in the summer, I new added tunes from some recently released CDs to that ever-growing, rotating song-loop [in excess of 30 hours long at last count, which has been a good while ago]. So, here’s the list of new titles in no particular order with some nearly brief comments on each:

“Chicken Dance” - from Khris Royal & Dark Matter, Hypersoul 2012: Guaranteed to give you the chicken head and have you struttin’ wildly ‘bout the barnyard, this track has the spirit of some long lost Junior Walker number wrapped up in it. Sax man Khris Royal, and drummer Terrence Houston have been playing in George Porter, Jr.’s band, Runnin’ Pardners, for several years now; but the two, along with the rest of hiply named Dark Matter, also create their own particular brand of dance-inducing rave-ups. As the CD attests, ingredients in their deep bag of tricks include heavy funk, R&B, jazz, hip-hop, and rock, freely mixed to set off perpetual motion chain reactions.

“Liver Splash” - George Porter, Jr. and Runnin’ Pardners, from Can’t Beat The Funk, Independent, 2012. Speaking of George, he definitely still matters, being, after all, one of the co-founders of funk as we know it. Along with the other fine repertoire in his stage shows, he and his well-picked Pardners have been playing material from the extensive back catalog of George's legacy band, the Meters. Though the original group still performs infrequently, they have never done any of their many lesser-known single and album tracks live, for whatever hard to fathom reasons. George obviously thinks they should be heard. So, this latest GPJr&RP CD is totally devoted to some of those tunes. Listen and behold the funkified excursions taking off from unequaled compositions conjured-up in New Orleans, but undeniably universal.

“Where Did I Go Wrong” - Willie West, from Can’t Help Myself, CDS Records, 2012: That’s right, a brand new CD from Mr. Soul Survivor, co-produced by Willie and another expat NOLA music veteran, Carl Marshall. With a tight, tasteful band and a decades-spanning soul-funk sound, Willie and ensemble lay down palpable performances track after track on this well-recorded collection of moving grooves. His 50+ year career has only enriched the character and authority of his incredibly expressive, supple voice, gifted with the ability to consistently connect on an emotional level. It’s the hallmark of a great soul singer, which once again leaves us wondering why Willie West is still not better known. Don’t miss out on another chance to say you heard him before he got famous.

“Take Five” - Doug Belote, from Magazine Street, 2012: A Lafayette, LA native, Doug has taken his masterful drumming chops to New Orleans and the world over the past 15 years, backing the cream of local talent there and on the road, plus a long list of heavy-hitting outside artists. As far as I know, this diverse bag of grooves and genres is Doug’s only album as a leader. He takes no prisoners on the re-aligned classic “Take Five” (arranged by master keyboardist Larry Seberth), yet never over-plays, leaving no doubt about his status in the elite of beats. Producer and hot-shot guitarist Shane Theriot wrote the majority of the material and plays on most of the tracks along with a knock-out assortment of eminently qualified A-list enablers. A real fine find.

“Needle In The Groove” - Papa Grows Funk, from Needle In the Groove, Funky Krewe, 2012. Led by keyboardist and vocalist John ‘Papa’ Gros, this band, all seasoned sidemen, have always taken not only their funk but their their middle name seriously, exhibiting progress year after year in improvising and songwriting chops - and they started out on the high end. You can hear the evidence on this CD, their best studio project yet, and at most any live PGF set you are fortunate enough to catch. Lending even more cred, none other than Allen Toussaint produced four of the album's nine cuts. The title track is something all us vinyl hounds can relate to, but begs the question, where's the 12”, y’all?

“Kingdom Of Izzness” - Dr. John, from Locked Down, Nonesuch, 2012. Probably due to being a certified old fart, and even though the album is blessedly available in both CD and vinyl formats, I was prepared not to be partial to this latest joint venture of Dr. John and producer Dan Auerbach, a youngish rocker, guitarist of the Black Keys duo, with diverse musical tastes, or so I’ve read, and an obvious enthusiasm to experiment. But I have to say my mind has been modified. I find it refreshing to hear the good Docta, Mac Rebennack (who’s even older than me, bless ‘im), nudged somewhat out of his musical comfort zone into new instrumental and sonic conjunctions. He’s definitely up to the challenge. The feel may not be exactly homegrown, recorded in Nashville by a band of the producer's cohorts, but the grooves still provide powerful support for Mac’s uniquely expressed songwriting. While some find too much gloom and bitterness in his latter day pronouncements, the mutterings of an man in the winter of his discontent, what’s really going on is simply Mac telling it like it T- I-Tizz. He offers up immediate, bullshit-free visions of a world long usurped and plundered by the powerful few to the detriment of the remaindered multitudes, and a country really free only for those with the financial ways and means to do whatever they want to keep it that way. Think of this raw, rockin’, album of angular funk as an edgy, cautionary soundtrack for the coming revolution, and take heed of the fifth column action by one bad-ass, second-lining soothsayer.

“Say Na Hey” - Soul Rebels, from Unlock Your Mind, Rounder, 2012. Leo Nocentelli wrote this Mardi Gras Indians-inspired carnival mover and sat-in with the band for some patented rhythmic guitar comping and a searing solo. The Rebels continue to creatively stretch the brass band boundaries, especially on their albums, with results that are always melodically appealing, kick-ass and booty-freeing. George Clinton only wishes he could funk like this. Kudos to producer Scott Billington and the Rounder team for ensuring a superbly slammin' sonic presentation and keeping their NOLA flame burning.

“Eyes On Fire” and “Balls Deep” - The Mason Affair, from Eyes On Fire, Independent, 2012. From out Los Angeles way, main instigator Mike Mason took a random shot earlier this year and sent me some links to cuts from this album via email, which I nearly deleted, since I get so many unsolicited pleas for attention from bands and artist of all stripes. But something told me to listen. Good thing I did. Their high quality recordings revealed hot, tight, ensemble playing, and simply irresistible grooves. After I said yes to the teaser, Mike let me hear the rest of it. New Orleans funk and brass influences are definitely evident in the mix, but incorporated into a broader creative agenda by Mason and crew, who definitely have their own thaang going on. More power to ‘em. Since there are a lot of good choices, I chose two tracks with different approaches to put into play. You can hear more at their website, see some videos, and get the album as a download or CD. If you’re on the Left Coast, catch their gigs. Hope they’ll do some touring and head this way. I for sure want to know where this affair will lead.

More of Professor Ray's Funky Ways

Before getting to the music at hand, I just have to ask. What kind of weird deja voodoo runs another jumbo hurricane into the New Orleans area seven years to the day after Katrina?  If that doesn’t punch your PTSD (Post Tropical Storm Disorder) buttons, you have the nervous system of a yogi, or the Dude. Thankfully, New Orleans fared far better this go-round, making it through the bloated, somewhat disorganized, lumbering Isaac’s still potent onslaught without failures of levees, floodwalls, or pumping stations, while sustaining what friends describe as moderate wind damage and power outages of three days or more.

Meanwhile, those beyond the federal protection zone around the city, relying on inadequate “private” levees, fared far worse, as usual. Water, water everywhere. Due to cyclone physics, the Eastern quadrant of Isaac delivered the biggest hits, reaching into Mississippi and Alabama for several excruciating days of torrential rain bands and rotating winds. Meanwhile, here on the opposite side of the storm, we rode it out at home and never even lost power, getting just a few inches of rain and some sporadic tropical storm force blowing, but nothing severe. It’s all about location. location, location. . . and, needless to say, sheer luck.

And remember, hurricane season doesn’t end until about November. . . . But enough already about the weather. You might recall that my last instalment back in July featured a few records by pianists James Booker, Mac Rebennack and Ray Johnson doing some more or less rare workouts on organ. This time I’m doing a spin-off to focus on several other rare keyboard numbers from Mr. Johnson that reveal more of his propensity to funk, plus his capabilities as a piano powerhouse.
 
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Within days of the prior posting, I ran into what appeared to be good deals on two of Ray’s other records I had been looking for. The rarer of those is the second of a pair of singles he did for the Mercury label, “Boogie the Blues”/“Smilin’ Blues” (#70231) from 1953/54, on which he sang with a Charles Brown affectation and played piano. The other find is on tap herein, a relatively better-known instrumental single of his from the late 1960s.

Although I was eager to get a track from the Mercury 45 into this post, as soon as the needle hit the groove I discovered that the little edge warp I had noticed on it was trouble, bad enough to induce numerous skips and hangs. My turntable’s arm usually tracks well under fairly adverse conditions, playing records I thought were way too warped to work, but not this time. So, that gem is out of the running until I find a replacement someday or maybe make like Lattimore and try to straighten it out. Instead, you’ll have to hear Ray’s handiwork on "Boogie the Blues" via the ever-accommodating uploaders at YouTube.

While I’m on the subject, allow me to correct my statement last time [now updated on the post] that his four Mercury sides were cut in New Orleans. I discovered when I belatedly dug out the notes to the Mercury Blues ‘N’ Rhythm Story CD box set that they were instead Los Angeles sessions that had Ray’s brother, Plas, leading the horn section. I guess my memory was colored by the sound and feel of “Boogie The Blues” in particular, which has that blues-rhumba groove and Ray’s impressive solo turn, both obviously influenced by what Professor Longhair was laying down back home in those days.

But, I’ve still got three examples of cool and bravado left to ramble on about, starting with this derivative but distinctly hip top side from another of his few and far between ‘60s singles, which was the first Ray Johnson single in my collection.



“Sherry’s Party” (Ray Johnson)
Ray Johnson, Loma 2030, 1966

No doubt, this tune and production were inspired by the success of jazz pianist Ramsey Lewis and his trio, whose instrumental hit cover of Dobie Gray’s “The ‘In’ Crowd” in 1965 (as well as follow-ups “Hang On Sloopy” and “Wade In the Water”) became a million-seller. Ray wrote and arranged “Sherry’s Party”, giving it a highly danceable groove and the rhythmic, chord-comping piano style that at least suggested a relation to “The ‘In’ Crowd”. Also, because Lewis’s record had been cut at a club date with the actual crowd audibly evident, Ray’s producer, Russ Regan, attempted to simulate a “live” feel by mixing in a tiny studio audience of sorts talking and responding to the music here and there during the song. While certainly not convincing, at least it wasn’t too distracting.

Setting aside those incidental efforts, it’s also obvious that Ray's purpose wasn’t mere imitation. This track can stand on its own in terms of groove and vibe, with a distinctive Afro-Cuban feel and great playing by his studio combo. The arrangement included plenty of poly-rhythmic interplay among the ensemble: his own percussive piano attack, the punchy, elemental bass lines (maybe done on an acoustic), two guitar parts (one chopping chords, one running a tasty lead), and subdued but funky drumming interwoven with both congas and bongos, sounds like.

While I’ve found no direct verification of who the groove-oriented players were on this Los Angeles-based session for Loma, I have a hunch that there may have been more New Orleans connections in the woodshed. Not knowing much about the label, which Warner Brothers Records set up as their soul music subsidiary in 1964, I found and read the late Chris Savory’s highly informative two-part article/discography, The Loma Story, online. In it, I saw that Mac Rebennack wrote “Back In Circulation”, the A-side of a record by Dick Jensen (#2029) released just prior to Johnson’s. Russ Regan also produced that session, which like Ray’s was cut in February, 1966; and, as Savory further stated, “It’s also believed that Mac was. . .one of the musicians o[n] the session.”  Indeed, Mac was an active studio musician, songwriter and arranger in LA at the time, having relocated there a few years earlier. As he describes in his autobiography, Under A Hoodoo Moon, he knew and frequently played recording dates with many of the other New Orleans expatriates working on the Left Coast scene. So, I would not be surprised to learn that Mac and several more hometown musical cohorts joined Ray on his Loma session, too. He could have been one of the guitarists. But that tantalizing possibility needs confirmation and more details to hold up.

Despite its merits and attempts to catch some of Lewis’ action, “Sherry’s Party” did not find an audience and had a brief shelf life, if any, perhaps not even going beyond its white label promo pressing. Thus, the career of Ramsey Lewis continued to rise unabated, while Ray’s solo prospects and public profile failed to improve. 

He didn’t record on his own again for several years, until a strange, well out of the mainstream label gave him another shot.

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The results can be heard on the second single of Ray’s I scored last month, cut for the short-lived InArts label in Hollywood, CA, toward the end of the decade, and containing exceptional instrumental cover tunes.



“Funky Way” (Calvin Arnold)
Ray Johnson, Inarts 107, ca 1968

Calvin Arnold’s 1968 bad-ass original on the LA-based Venture label at first might not seem like the best prospect for an instrumental cover. It’s a hot, bare-bones grinder with plenty of gritty get-down and vocal riffing that lacks much of a melody line. But, Ray made it a good choice. As he showed on “Sherry’s Party”, he had a way of letting the groove rule and working off the strong rhythmic elements of a tune. In the second half of “Funky Way”, his piano improvisations began to generate some new melodic ideas, but didn’t get far in the short time before the fade. A longer version, say an album track, would have allowed him and the group to work out on and develop their interpretation; but the 45 format was as far as it went - a tease of a taste.

The instrumentation on both sides retained the combo approach of “Sherry’s Party”, with an added organ that worked best on “Funky Way”, at times seeming to mimic the background singers on Arnold’s version. Again, the only thing I know for sure about the other musicians on these sides is that they could really lock down a groove.

As choice as the track is, the real tour de force is to be found on the back side.

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“I Heard It Through the Grapevine” (Whitfield & Strong)

Ray and his crew turned in a remarkably ecstatic rave-up on “I Heard It Through The Grapevine”. Written by Motown masters Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong, the song was a double-hit monster for both Gladys Knight & the Pips, who took to #1 in 1967, and Marvin Gaye in 1968, whose version became one of the company’s all-time best-sellers, and was probably still getting heavy radio rotation when this instrumental was cut.

Taken at a faster pace than either of those hits, the groove flat-out moves and motivates, led by the strong backbeat of the drums on the verses that shifted into sizzling syncopation on the choruses. Inspired by the group’s high-powered drive, Ray ran rampant on the eighty-eights, his energetic comps, diverse riffs, and amazing clusters of flourishes increasing in intensity and complexity as the song progressed. It’s another track that could easily have gone on twice as long and made even more of a statement. The only minor flaw on the take is that the organ never found its place in the arrangement, becoming a mere distraction that keeps us from catching every single juicy party favor Ray threw out.

The first time I heard this tune in full was on YouTube; and I was floored. Ray showed some impressive early chops on “Boogie The Blues”, but not even that prepared me for the amazing level of musicianship on display here. On the basis of that alone, this cat surely should be considered worthy of inclusion in the long line of piano masters - professors, as they are called - from the New Orleans environs; but, without breaks, he never got an extended opportunity to show his stuff and be recognized. As talented in his own way as his brother, Plas, you would think the connections would have been there to take him farther than an in-demand session player, infrequent recording artist, and club entertainer. Why he didn’t get a chance to make even one jazz album in his prime is anybody’s guess - unless there’s one hiding out somewhere. [Note: Ray did put out a quite decent R&B/blues CD in 2000, Ray Johnson Bluz.]

Ironically, Ray let it all hang out on what seems to have been his last solo vinyl record, released by a label with limited prospects and certainly unequipped to find a market for something as dangerously hip as these tunes. According to some Billboard articles I found from 1967, InArts was started early that year by a company called International Artists, Ltd, who at first concocted the idea of developing talent for the label by holding multi-tiered talent contests at colleges around the country with the ultimate winner(s) getting to record for the label, sort of a proto-American Idol concept. Funding for setting up the contest structure came from one of the label’s financial backers, none other than “the one man Disneyland”, flamboyant showman/pianist Liberace. But, it was the ‘60s, and youth culture was quickly moving in another direction, to put it mildly.

A few months later Billboard had another blurb about InArts buying (!?) the name of a group called, “The Good Time Singers” [hope it wasn’t more than $5.00], to use for a seven-member pop vocal act they were developing and planning to put on tour and record. No more about the contest scheme. Maybe Liberace blew the money on a few new outfits, instead. Anyway, in all, according to the Global Dog discography, InArts had around nine releases, mostly pop/rock generica, starting off with those newly christened Good Time Singers, before the venture ran out of, um, ideas. So, how did a player of Ray’s caliber have his funky jazz project relegated to this non-starter of a label? It’s anybody’s guess; but just maybe it had something to do with Fred Darian, who ran the InArts recording operations and produced Ray’s record.

It’s likely Darian was the one who decided to go with another “live” simulation gambit to add some totally unnecessary ersatz excitement to the tracks. Fortunately, as on ”Sherry’s Party”, it didn’t sound lame enough to kill the grooves. What may have convinced Ray to work with him in the first place was the fact that, earlier in the decade, Darian had been Dobie Gray’s manager and produced his first big hit, “The ‘In’ Crowd”, in 1965. Of course, that later spawned the massive Ramsey Lewis cover version that Ray had tried to emulate to some degree on “Sherry’s Party”.  So, in that odd feedback loop, one of the things that the music business is full of, Darian did have at least a little bit of hit-mojo in his past.

Even though his chances to record as a featured artist were limited in the 1960s, Ray made the best of what he got, adapting well to the soul and funk of the time to deliver the memorable instrumental tracks featured here. It has only taken them about 40 years to begin to find their audience. I’m still on the hunt for other sides that flip my switch from among his somewhat more plentiful material from the ‘50s, especially another copy of that Mercury single I got burned on. Without a doubt, there’s more to be learned about and from Professor Johnson.

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Up next will be reviews of two new re-issue projects, one on vinyl, one on CD, and some commentary on relatively recent new material added to the webcast stream. So, do check back.

Some Locally Grown Organics

A fairly rare record I picked up recently kicked off this current chain of digressions. Despite derelict labels, mottled vinyl, and worn grooves, the seldom seen AFO single with two groovin’ instrumentals featuring Mac Rebennack on organ was too just too tempting to pass up. 50+ years of relative neglect, plus a Katrina-induced baptsim, obviously couldn't stop its music from being heard. So who am I not to celebrate it, impart some information about its origins in the process, and even use it as some sort of convenient metaphor for homegrown resilience.

But enough romantic notions of the Deep South. As I was listening to it, a couple of other New Orleans-related organ instrumentals from the same period came to mind - there weren’t all that many - and the seeds of this post were planted. Just seeing and hearing the three singles presented here, you might be hard-pressed to detect any connections among them, unless you know the back stories. That’s once again where HOTG comes in.

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With the rising use of the mighty Hammond electric organ in gospel and jazz during the 1950s, before long it began to show up in R&B, rock ‘n’ roll , and pop. Bill Doggett’s instrumental hits and Dave ‘Baby’ Cortez’s pop chart-topper, “The Happy Organ” in 1959, did much to popularize the sound with youthful boomer record buyers, bringing about more such records in their wake.  Before long, two young New Orleans musical hotshots and one somewhat older expat got in on that action.

MAC REBENNACK’S SHORT-ORDER ORGAN LESSONS PAY OFF

When fate threw him a life-altering change-up in the early 1960s, Mac Rebennack temporarily took up the organ abetted by his friend, keyboard wizard James Booker. They had first met as teenagers in mid-1950s New Orleans, hanging out at Cosimo Matassa’s studio watching recording sessions go down, being flunkies, and eventually, as their musical skills developed, playing on tracks themselves. 

In his younger days, Mac had absorbed the rudiments of piano from various family members and friends in his Third Ward neighborhood. He always had a good ear, and picked up more being around Booker and the many great players at Cosimo’s. But his instrument of choice at the time was guitar; and Mac had progressed quickly after being tutored by two of the city’s best guitarists, Walter ‘Papoose’ Nelson and Roy Montrell. So, that is the instrument he was known for when he was getting established as a go-to musician, writer, and budding producer on the local scene. His 1959 record, “Storm Warning”, on Rex is ample proof of his six-string prowess; and so things likely would have continued, but for a fateful night in 1961, Christmas Eve, about a month past his 21st birthday. While in Jacksonville, Florida for a gig with his band, he was involved in a fight, during which the ring finger of his left hand was nearly blown off by a gunshot, requiring emergency surgery. 

After the finger was salvaged and Mac recuperated, he could not fret the guitar strings effectively for quite a few years, and his playing ability was never the same. Trying to maintain life as a musician, he first painfully tried switching to bass guitar, as it required fewer fingers, but the pressure needed to fret the thick strings was too hard on his hand. Luckily, Booker offered a solution. He had been gigging on organ in a road band and around the French Quarter, as well as cutting some cool instrumentals on it for the Ace, Peacock and Duke labels, and quickly taught Mac the ins and outs of the instrument, on which a powerful sound can be had using just the right hand. He also helped Mac get organ gigs in various bars on and near Bourbon Street. Soon thereafter, Roy Montrell stepped back into the picture and gave Mac some session work with AFO Records. The older guitarist had become one of the founders of the label, owned by a group of idealistic black session musicians headed by Harold Battiste. As Mac told it in his autobiography, Under A Hoodoo Moon, 

During the last year or so of the AFO scene, in the early sixties, my former guitar teacher Roy Montrell. . .hired me to play organ on a few songs - I guess to help me out, because he knew I was grinding away at my scene down on Bourbon Street. He had a tune called “One Naughty Flat” on which I played organ, although it was written for two guitars.

What could have been a career-ending injury instead sent him off on a new musical path toward eventual keyboard virtuosity; and he got a great confidence boost doing the tunes on this 45.

“One Naughty Flat” (E. Montrell)

Mac Rebennack, AFO 309, 1962

The title. . .was kind of an inside joke with musicians. The song was in the key of F and there’s only one flat in the key of F. - Harold Battiste, quoted in the notes to More Gumbo Stew. [the songs on this single can be found on the Ace UK Gumbo Stew CD series, but they have an alternate take of this one.]

Montrell, who gave the writing credit for this upbeat, well-crafted tune to Edna Montrell [I'm guessing his wife], probably as a tax dodge, also provided the hip, almost big band arrangement for Mac’s session. The resulting conjunction of jazz and instrumental R&B had a distinct New Orleans flavor thanks to the lightly stutter-stepping second line bounce that drummer John Boudreaux gave the groove. Though Mac was a relative novice on organ, his lead work was fluid and rhythmically right on the money. He almost got lost towards the end of the take, but recovered in milliseconds, finishing with some nicely improvised riffing. 

Other players on the session included AFO’s core ownership team, including ‘Chuck’ Badie on bass, Montrell on rhythm guitar, with Mel Lastie on cornet, ‘Red’ Tyler on baritone sax, and perhaps Battiste on alto. Session regular Nat Perrilliat likely played the tenor solo. All of them were accomplished jazz musicians for whom playing R&B was the way they earned their living.

While this is a very cool rendition, most of the supporting band later cut a different take as the AFO Executives that appeared the next year on their LP entitled Compendium.  Even with no organ and fewer horns, it’s a great track in its own right and worth seeking out.

For the flip side of his single, Mac, in no way intimidated by the company he was keeping, came up with a very strong contender of his own.

“The Point” (Mac Rebennack)

Also edging close to jazz territory, this aggressive, minor-key burner with a highly rhythmic, Latin-flavored arrangement [I’m guessing by Harold Battiste] gave AFO 309 the distinction of having two equally strong sides. Props to Mac for having the compositional skill and keyboard chops to pull it off. 

Unfortunately for him, the single’s prospects were dim from the get-go. AFO had growing financial problems (previously discussed here) which restricted their ability to properly promote and distribute the records they made and would force the membership to shut the operation down by 1963, with Battiste and most of the principals relocating to Los Angeles that year. Mac eventually followed, after running afoul of the law one too many times at home. Out there, he hooked up with Battiste again, which led to their collaboration on an ambitious and unusual project, the Gris Gris album - trippy and experimental, yet steeped in the roots and culture of their hometown - that launched Mac’s career as Dr. John in 1968.

ONE OF JAMES BOOKER'S UNDERCOVER DUKE SESSIONS

Although much of his studio work was as a sideman, piano prodigy James Booker got an earlier start than Mac as a featured artist. Around 1953, he was already performing on a local weekly radio show, when one of the regular session pianists at Cosimo’s, Ed Frank, who had dated Booker’s older sister, brought the fourteen year old in to audition for producer Dave Bartholomew. The result was a session and single for Imperial as Little Booker in 1954, before his voice had even changed; but the shaky novelty song on the top side, “Doing the Hambone”, did not catch on. In 1956, Chess Records local A&R man, Paul Gayten, paired James with Arthur Booker (no relation) and issued a 45 on them billed as Arthur & Booker; but that angle didn’t click with the public either. 

Around 1958, Booker was signed to Ace Records by owner Johnny Vincent (Imbragulio) on the recommendation of a young Joe Tex, who was based in New Orleans at the time and also under contract to the label. Only one single resulted, which was supposed to have been a two-sided instrumental featuring Booker playing piano on one and organ on the other, over the same rhythm track. When it came out, though, the artist [billed again as Little Booker] discovered that Vincent had poorly overdubbed a hyper vocal track by Tex onto the piano side, "Open The Door", which obscured the instruments. That faux pax doomed the record, which meant that the killer take, “Teen Age Rock” [featured here in 2009], Booker’s first recording on organ, was totally overlooked. Because of Vincent’s shenanigans, Booker broke his contract and walked away. He continued to do session work and gigs around home and on the road, before winding up in Houston, Texas recording under his own name for Don Robey’s Peacock label.

Booker had been to the city before as a part of various road bands and played piano on occasional sessions for Robey’s Duke label, including the 1958 Larry Davis blues classic, “Texas Flood”. Late in 1959, he was back in Houston at the end of a tour on which he had been organist in singer Dee Clark’s band. Clark supposedly borrowed money from Robey and left the organ behind as collateral. Since Booker kind of came with the deal and needed some work, Robey decided to put both to good use in the studio and had Booker cut some original instrumentals. 

Ed Frank, who was working as a producer and arranger for Duke/Peacock at the time, was in charge of the sessions, which resulted in enough material for four singles issued on Peacock. The first featured “Gonzo”, a subversively titled little number on which the organ shared lead with a flute. A substantial hit in 1960, it was the only chart success of Booker’s career. His remaining Peacock releases followed between 1961 and 1962; but none came close to the success he had out of the gate. I’ve featured several of those enjoyable sides before; and at least some can be heard on YouTube or downloaded from various purveyors. Night Train/Tuff City included them them on a 1996 CD compilation of Booker's early recordings, Gonzo: More Than All The 45s, and on a somewhat differently titled 2000 LP.

After those singles, Booker had no more commercially released 45s in his name; but, in this same period, he did appear as lead organist on two others that came out on Duke, credited to a drummer and vocalist from Memphis, Earl Forest.

Forest had been recording for Duke as a featured artist since 1952, when the label had just started up in Memphis, right before Robey bought it. With the Beale Streeters band, Forest backed some of Duke’s most promising Memphis-area new talent back then, including Johnny Ace, Bobby Bland, and Rosco Gordon. After a succession of singles over the course of a decade, Forest cut what would be his final two 45s for Duke, mainly instrumental sides with dance-related titles, released in 1962 and 1963. When neither sold well, they slipped into obscurity; but Booker’s contributions have revived interest in them among latter day aficionados.

“Beal Street Popeye” (Forest-Cople-Malone)

Earl Forest, Duke 349, 1962

As has been noted by others, this stop-time track with Forest’s vocal interjections in the gaps has similarities to the classic Mar-Keys 1961 hit, “Last Night”, which appeared on the Memphis-based Satellite label, the precursor of Stax. Since that record was a million-seller, it easily might have inspired Forest and his co-writer to fashion something along the same lines. But Booker’s more improvisational keyboard attack set it apart, adding some barrelhouse flourishes that mixed some New Orleans in with the South Memphis flavor.

Although the title links the Popeye, a dance that probably hit its zenith of popularity in the Crescent City back then, with Beale Street, which for decades was Memphis’ black entertainment district, there’s really no musical connection to the dance. The beat is too up-tempo and straight-ahead to be mistaken for the casually syncopated popeye groove laid down in much of New Orleans R&B for at least the first half of the 1960s, if not longer (far outliving the dance fad it was designed for). But, this being a Forest record, Memphis would have been the intended target market anyway. So the discrepancy probably wasn't an issue.

Fuzzy demographics aside, the track certainly has its redeeming musical charms, from Booker’s nimble, rhythmic keyboard running to the hot sax solo mid-song. I don’t have a clue about the other players on the record besides Booker and Forest. Whether some of them came along from Memphis, or were part of the in-house studio crew in Houston, their solid professionalism made the tracks well worth hearing despite the limitations of the tunes.

The more purely R&B approach on the flip side proved to be more focused, if less current.

“Memphis Twist” (Forest-Cople-Malone)

In fact, this song is a stylistic throwback to the earlier days of R&B with a generic shuffle beat and a crucially effective, high class horn section arrangement and delivery. The production decision to keep the horns high in the mix, even though they compete for attention with Booker’s riffing, makes for compelling listening. For him*, it was a pretty straightforward outing - nothing flashy - but still well-rendered and in the pocket. Speaking of which, Forest’s drumming was minimal at best; so it fell to the unidentified bass player to step up and be the driving force behind the grooves on both tunes, making for a fine rhythmic ride. Whether it was actually a good record to twist to is not my area of expertise [still looking for one]. Not that it makes a difference these days -  just dance it like you feel it. 

*[As fans of Booker already know, he was much more musically subdued on organ, despite his chops. Maybe the difference in attack between organ and piano, on which he excelled, inhibited his legendary dynamics. Piano notes vary in loudness depending on how hard you hit the individual keys, while organs decidedly do not work that way. Volume is controlled separately for the entire keyboard, though that lack of nuance is balanced by the large range of tonalities you can control via variable electronic drawbars, at least on Hammond models. Additional amplification makes the organ a formidable instrument; but it is still hard to beat what 88 piano keys can do in the hands of a master.]  


I didn’t include Forest’s last Duke single, “The Duck”/“The Crown” (#363), as Booker’s contributions to the top side were lessened by the fact that it was a vocal number, and not a very engaging one at that. On the back is an instrumental with little or no organ, but some good piano running instead, which I’m pretty sure was also Booker's doing; so look for it on a later post of piano instrumentals.


[For a good overview of the history of Don Robey’s labels, try Duke/Peacock Records An Illustrated History by Galen Gart and Roy C. Ames.]

RAY JOHNSON FINALLY TAKES US TO SOUL CITY

Mac and Booker are much better known to fans and collectors of New Orleans-related music than keyboardist Ray Johnson may be.  He left the city when he was in his early 20s and has done all but a couple of his recordings as a featured artist elsewhere. His younger brother, Plas, jazz saxophonist extraordinaire and consummate first-call West Coast session musician for decades, has received the majority of the glory and name recognition; but Ray too has made his mark.

The brothers were born a year apart into a musical family in the Mississippi River town of Donaldsonville, LA, not too far upstream from New Orleans. Their dad, Plas, Sr., was a multi-instrumentalist. Their sister, Gwen,  a vocalist, recorded for Don Robey’s Peacock label in the early 1950s. Renald Richard, a cousin and jazz/R&B trumpeter in New Orleans, joined Ray Charles’ early band and in 1954 co-wrote with him the seminal hit, “I’ve Got A Woman”, that laid the foundation for soul music with its cross of gospel and R&B. Later, Richard also discovered Lee Dorsey and got him his first recording deal.  

Plas and Ray went to school in Thibodaux, LA and began playing professionally in their early teens. By the late 1940s, before either had even turned 20, they migrated to New Orleans and formed a hot, successful R&B band, the Johnson Brothers’ Combo, playing regularly in various clubs around town. The band recorded one single for Deluxe in 1949 under their own name, and a couple credited to their singer, Erline Harris, the next year. 

Soon thereafter, the great and popular singer/pianist Charles Brown hired Plas for his band; but that didn’t last long, as both brothers got drafted in 1951.  After their hitches in the Army, Plas relocated to Los Angeles, where he quickly broke into the music business scene and became in-demand  for recording dates of all kinds.  Ray briefly went back to New Orleans before following this brother westward, where he recorded two nice singles for Mercury in 1953, singing in the style of Charles Brown and playing piano, with Plas heading up the horn section. When they didn’t do much, he too found steady work as a session musician; but, through the decade, he kept trying for a solo career, cutting his own records for an assortment of labels, large and small, but never scoring a breakout hit. 

Ray started the 1960s with a high profile gig as pianist on Ricky Nelson’s records for Imperial, and, a few years later, played on Sam Cooke’s final album Ain’t That Good News. He also did plenty of other studio dates over the years from surf music to the blues-rock of Canned Heat, not to mention more of his own records here and there for various small labels. Several of his hip instrumentals have been re-discovered over the years, including the proto-funk gem, “Soul City”.

“Soul City” (R. Johnson)

Ray Johnson, Infinity 024 B, 1963/4

Though it was the designated B-side, this one has the juice. Rather than a virtuoso performance, it’s all about the groove. Johnson and his unnamed group aptly demonstrated what great feel and ensemble playing are all about, sounding simultaneously loose and locked into the multi-instrumental syncopation, and, of course, incredibly cool.

In a way, the tune reminds me of “Rooty Tooty”, a similarly structured sax instrumental groover by Lionel Torrence (Prevost) that came out on J. D. Miller’s Zynn label in 1961, a southwest Louisiana record (featured here in 2007). I doubt there are any connections outside of my strangely wired-up mental associations; but hearing one always makes me want to hear the other.

“Kinda Groovy” (R. Johnson)


The title kinda sums up how this track strikes me. With its driving rock and roll back-beat, Ray’s standard-issue riffs alternating with guitar licks for much of the song, and an all too brief sax solo, the feel is stock and trade ot the‘50s, and seems even more dated by the offhand hipness of the flip.  Not that it wasn’t well-done; but, for an A-side, “kinda” doesn’t cut it. Such frequently travelled musical ground needed a few surprise twists and turns, or, say, a way-cool groove to stand out on a crowded radio playlist.


No surprise then that I would have given the lead-off spot on the single to “Soul City”, which at least held some promising left-field hit potential. But that’s not how the producer, John Marascalco, saw it, pretty much insuring that this was Ray’s only appearance on Infinity, a modest, mainly rock and pop label based in Beverly Hills, California that lasted from 1961 to around 1965.

I hope to get around to picking more from Ray Johnson down the line, maybe even a combined post with brother Plas, who deserves far more attention than I've given him so far. Mac and Booker, too, will no doubt crop up again in the great scheme of things.