Here in the early 21st century, as musicians we must now compete with the entire history of recorded music. Popular music is basically a form of cultural communication. We vie with preconceived notions of style and quality in the now digital marketplace. On the local level, we are held to high standards of excellence - a home theater system, Pandora and iTune streams, a good FM radio station - many sources of well-crafted music inform our listeners values. Additionally, corporatism controls the promotion of well-recorded alternatives to struggling hometown performers who divide their creative time with more mundane exigencies to eke out a living.
Around 1925 the general public became aware of the new phenomena of mass produced sound recordings - phonograph records - and the advent of broadcast radio. This started a shift away from indigenous and local music, although originally it seemed a celebration of previously cloistered art forms. Born in 1943, I was raised by musically and technologically aware parents. The player piano, radio and record player were our sources for joy through music. We had player piano rolls recorded by both popular and classical musicians. One could pump the pedals, change the tempo, watch the keys while playing the Poet and Peasant Overture, Tishomingo Blues, Honeysuckle Rose as played by Fats Waller, or hits of the day like Cool Water by the Sons of the Pioneers. Hoagy Carmichael and Nat King Cole had weekly radio shows. And though the popular music of the day was sometimes insipid, the radio also brought us Duke Ellington and other big bands.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1920s_in_jazz
But the more permanent phonograph record allowed one to hear full blown ensembles without being tied to a scheduled program, and Louis Armstrong, Kid Ory, Bix Beiderbecke and a plethora of New Orleans and Chicago jazz artists were in constant rotation in the homes of record collectors. My parents ran a “Dixieland” record collectors club and had a one night a month show on radio KPOJ in Portland, Oregon. Parties at the house brought a crowd of smoking, drinking, “hot music” fans into our living room. The impetus was discovering great new recordings, or finding previously undiscovered platters to wow the assemblage. There were several record companies capitalizing on the technology and providing previously unimagined views into the American culture. Here’s a link to a Wikipedia description of just one of them, the Okeh label: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Okeh_Records
Our family moved to California in late 1952. We got our first black and white TV set (Portland had no TV station) and San Francisco provided us with the three network channels - Nat King Cole had a show, there were variety shows, and “Your Hit Parade” brought America’s top 7 songs of the week performed by their studio artists. In contrast, the 24 hour a day outpouring of jazz, rhythm and blues and “top 40” from Bay Area radio stations was compelling. The living room console radio had been replaced by the TV, but the kitchen AM radio was almost always on, providing a contemporary soundtrack. By the mid fifties there were “pop” stations KYA and KOBY, R&B stations KWBR and KSAN, and at night KROW played New York Blue Note style jazz. My love for what is now known as “trad” jazz quickly expanded to include the exciting new form known as rock and roll - and all it’s tributaries. http://history-of-rock.com/numberonerecord.htm
I started junior high school in 1955 already well aware that many of the new hit records associated with white performers were originally recorded as black r&b releases. The Portland record collectors had spirited discussions concerning cultural theft and the invalidity of white artists, and the Dixieland “revival” of the 50s was anathema to many. The advent of rock and roll brought America’s historical racism into bas relief, and the energy and cultural validity of rhythm and blues stood out in stark contrast to the white “covers.” The pain of the Jim Crow era, segregation, and real estate red-lining still predominated, and the fight for civil rights was just beginning. The inherent honesty and vibrancy of black music was the vanguard - proof of equality - and quality, denied!
Another component of early rock and roll was the tributary known as “rock-a-billy.” Elvis Presley, Ronnie Hawkins, Carl Perkins, even pianist/showman Jerry Lee Lewis emerged as exponents of this true form. Their artistry was a product of honest evolution - not stolen. As teenagers we had many favorite artists and styles. East Coast doo-wop was a contender, too. We pictured the romance of street corner harmonies, racially mixed ensembles using sweet song as an escape route from their ghettoized existence. Alas now we know too well that escape and stardom was, for most, an illusion shattered by unscrupulous agents, promoters and record companies - no matter what style your music. Nonetheless we idolized rock and roll performers. And those of us who loved the music enough to learn to play an instrument were exposed to concepts of artistry and skill, and we prized authentic and intellectually honest creation.
Early on the tenor saxophone was the chosen instrument to provide an exciting interlude within the story of the song. Rock and roll always had a strong dance component - picture Little Richard or Fats Domino at the piano, multiple saxes swaying to the rhythm - always a hot sax break in their records! But cultural streams started to diverge in the 60s. Rock and roll became simply “rock” and R&B and jazz went their own ways. During the height of America’s civil rights era, rock became global in scope and the electric guitar took center stage. English artists who profited from a secondary school system that featured art schools for those not interested in traditional trades took over. The Beatles, The Stones, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Dick Clark Five - most all of the English “invasion” - had studied their art, and the business of art. The Beatles received their MBE awards because they corrected Britain’s trade imbalance! (In addition to their prodigious talent.)
Then came the Summer of Love, 1967. “Folkies” amplified their guitars - amateurs adopted the style and mores of the day. Some of them had hit records before they learned how to play, either through sheer luck or record company promotion. Monterey Pop was the first venue where people actually sat in a performance arena to hear this new “psychedelic” music. Within a few years the original thrust of the counter-culture was diluted, forgotten or commercialized. For a while the modus operandi of the moneyed record producers was to discover, groom and publicize naive, home grown musicians and posturing poets. Then that was superseded by production of “hot-house flowers” - manufactured groups no longer in touch with their roots. The buying public was no longer seeking previously undiscovered Americana the way Dixieland record collectors and early rock and roll fans did.
Even the uniqueness of hip-hop fell prey to the moguls and big-money producers. The visual art, the dance styles, the purity of the streets, the undisputed creativity and skills of the DJ rappers became preempted. Some hip-hop and (offshore) Reggae forms still maintain some semblance of purity, folk art and funky originality, but instrumental music and popular vocal styles today are largely manufactured, corporate products. The popularity of diverse forms such as world music, bluegrass, alternative, house, electrónica, even Gospel - may stem from a subconscious need for validity and relevance in relation to a culture - which is lacking in the more popular formats of today’s “music.” Quotes around “music” because contemporary forms are obviously entertainment, staging and posturing before they are music!
This all leads to the need for a new charter for the modern musician living in the USA. The question is, “Where would American music be today if there had been no English invasion, no co-opting of styles by corporate culture thieves in the wake of the 60s psychedelic revolution, no turntable scratching, no sampling, no drum machines?” Can we “find our way back to the garden?” We can’t close our ears to the “progress” that’s been made, but if we dig deep enough maybe we can get back to the roots of Americana that suffused earlier forms. Regaining the purity of pioneers like Woody Guthrie, Bob Wills, the Mound City Blue Blowers, Robert Johnson, early B.B. King - the New Orleans heritage - and eschewing manufactured assembly line “product” is the goal.
This is dangerously close to opinionated curmudgeonism, but it also means very little Motown, if any. No “Tin Pan Alley,” no Brill Building music. No TV music, no jazz fusion, not much “Great American Songbook,” maybe a selective look at the “British invasion.” With so many styles excluded, then what is left? The answer is: anything that represents cultural honesty, true individual creativity, played by real people with real instruments, stemming from an understanding of the original threads of American culture. And lest that sound too jingoistic, let’s remember that for millions of people, America is plural! Extrapolate the philosophy to all the Americas and the question then becomes: Even if one has been raised in a household steeped in various musics of the Americas, how can we possibly do justice to these diverse forms, are we even allowed the attempt? Our interest in replicating, and hopefully transcending indigenous forms - playing “other folks music” - is this cultural misappropriation?
It seems intellectually dishonest to borrow a style for personal profit alone. But if our performance is motivated by respect, study and understanding of these genres imbued with cultural integrity and history, we can only be faulted for our skill level. As long as we are honest about our relationship to, and love for music that is not intrinsic to our own experience, we will be recognized for our sincerity and intent. And our intention is to keep the origins of cultural diversity intact, not pandering to commercialism, not seeking self-aggrandizement. Throughout history, the troubadour has not only provided a song, but a means for introspection and the delivery of moral precepts. In the broader scope of historical definition, we as artists, are prophets. It is our ability to see through the veil - acting as emissaries who explore the antipodes of consciousness to bring back messages of truth, wisdom and joy - that is our value to society and our charter as creative artists.
profunk.us - funk now - let it go, let it flow!
Saturday, March 3, 2018
Saturday, March 18, 2017
Early Rock
Here in the early 21st century, as musicians we must now compete with the entire history of recorded music. Popular music is basically a form of cultural communication. We vie with preconceived notions of style and quality in the now digital marketplace. On the local level, we are held to high standards of excellence - a home theater system, Pandora and iTune streams, a good FM radio station - many sources of well-crafted music inform our listeners values. Additionally, corporatism controls the promotion of well-recorded alternatives to struggling hometown performers who divide their creative time with more mundane exigencies to eke out a living.
Around 1925 the general public became aware of the new phenomena of mass produced sound recordings - phonograph records - and the advent of broadcast radio. This started a shift away from indigenous and local music, although originally it seemed a celebration of previously cloistered art forms. Born in 1943, I was raised by musically and technologically aware parents. The player piano, radio and record player were our sources for joy through music. We had player piano rolls recorded by both popular and classical musicians. One could pump the pedals, change the tempo, watch the keys while playing the Poet and Peasant Overture, Tishomingo Blues, Honeysuckle Rose as played by Fats Waller, or hits of the day like Cool Water by the Sons of the Pioneers. Hoagy Carmichael and Nat King Cole had weekly radio shows. And though the popular music of the day was sometimes insipid, the radio also brought us Duke Ellington and other big bands.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1920s_in_jazz
But the more permanent phonograph record allowed one to hear full blown ensembles without being tied to a scheduled program, and Louis Armstrong, Kid Ory, Bix Beiderbecke and a plethora of New Orleans and Chicago jazz artists were in constant rotation in the homes of record collectors. My parents ran a “Dixieland” record collectors club and had a one night a month show on radio KPOJ in Portland, Oregon. Parties at the house brought a crowd of smoking, drinking, “hot music” fans into our living room. The impetus was discovering great new recordings, or finding previously undiscovered platters to wow the assemblage. There were several record companies capitalizing on the technology and providing previously unimagined views into the American culture. Here’s a link to a Wikipedia description of just one of them, the Okeh label: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Okeh_Records
Our family moved to California in late 1952. We got our first black and white TV set (Portland had no TV station) and San Francisco provided us with the three network channels - Nat King Cole had a show, there were variety shows, and “Your Hit Parade” brought America’s top 7 songs of the week performed by their studio artists. In contrast, the 24 hour a day outpouring of jazz, rhythm and blues and “top 40” from Bay Area radio stations was compelling. The living room console radio had been replaced by the TV, but the kitchen AM radio was almost always on, providing a contemporary soundtrack. By the mid fifties there were “pop” stations KYA and KOBY, R&B stations KWBR and KSAN, and at night KROW played New York Blue Note style jazz. My love for what is now known as “trad” jazz quickly expanded to include the exciting new form known as rock and roll - and all it’s tributaries. http://history-of-rock.com/numberonerecord.htm
I started junior high school in 1955 already well aware that many of the new hit records associated with white performers were originally recorded as black r&b releases. The Portland record collectors had spirited discussions concerning cultural theft and the invalidity of white artists, and the Dixieland “revival” of the 50s was anathema to many. The advent of rock and roll brought America’s historical racism into bas relief, and the energy and cultural validity of rhythm and blues stood out in stark contrast to the white “covers.” The pain of the Jim Crow era, segregation, and real estate red-lining still predominated, and the fight for civil rights was just beginning. The inherent honesty and vibrancy of black music was the vanguard - proof of equality - and quality, denied!
Another component of early rock and roll was the tributary known as “rock-a-billy.” Elvis Presley, Ronnie Hawkins, Carl Perkins, even pianist/showman Jerry Lee Lewis emerged as exponents of this true form. Their artistry was a product of honest evolution - not stolen. As teenagers we had many favorite artists and styles. East Coast doo-wop was a contender, too. We pictured the romance of street corner harmonies, racially mixed ensembles using sweet song as an escape route from their ghettoized existence. Alas now we know too well that escape and stardom was, for most, an illusion shattered by unscrupulous agents, promoters and record companies - no matter what style your music. Nonetheless we idolized rock and roll performers. And those of us who loved the music enough to learn to play an instrument were exposed to concepts of artistry and skill, and we prized authentic and intellectually honest creation.
Early on the tenor saxophone was the chosen instrument to provide an exciting interlude within the story of the song. Rock and roll always had a strong dance component - picture Little Richard or Fats Domino at the piano, multiple saxes swaying to the rhythm - always a hot sax break in their records! But cultural streams started to diverge in the 60s. Rock and roll became simply “rock” and R&B and jazz went their own ways. During the height of America’s civil rights era, rock became global in scope and the electric guitar took center stage. English artists who profited from a secondary school system that featured art schools for those not interested in traditional trades took over. The Beatles, The Stones, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Dick Clark Five - most all of the English “invasion” - had studied their art, and the business of art. The Beatles received their MBE awards because they corrected Britain’s trade imbalance! (In addition to their prodigious talent.)
Then came the Summer of Love, 1967. “Folkies” amplified their guitars - amateurs adopted the style and mores of the day. Some of them had hit records before they learned how to play, either through sheer luck or record company promotion. Monterey Pop was the first venue where people actually sat in a performance arena to hear this new “psychedelic” music. Within a few years the original thrust of the counter-culture was diluted, forgotten or commercialized. For a while the modus operandi of the moneyed record producers was to discover, groom and publicize naive, home grown musicians and posturing poets. Then that was superseded by production of “hot-house flowers” - manufactured groups no longer in touch with their roots. The buying public was no longer seeking previously undiscovered Americana the way Dixieland record collectors and early rock and roll fans did.
Even the uniqueness of hip-hop fell prey to the moguls and big-money producers. The visual art, the dance styles, the purity of the streets, the undisputed creativity and skills of the DJ rappers became preempted. Some hip-hop and (offshore) Reggae forms still maintain some semblance of purity, folk art and funky originality, but instrumental music and popular vocal styles today are largely manufactured, corporate products. The popularity of diverse forms such as world music, bluegrass, alternative, house, electrónica, even Gospel - may stem from a subconscious need for validity and relevance in relation to a culture - which is lacking in the more popular formats of today’s “music.” Quotes around “music” because contemporary forms are obviously entertainment, staging and posturing before they are music!
This all leads to the need for a new charter for the modern musician living in the USA. The question is, “Where would American music be today if there had been no English invasion, no co-opting of styles by corporate culture thieves in the wake of the 60s psychedelic revolution, no turntable scratching, no sampling, no drum machines?” Can we “find our way back to the garden?” We can’t close our ears to the “progress” that’s been made, but if we dig deep enough maybe we can get back to the roots of Americana that suffused earlier forms. Regaining the purity of pioneers like Woody Guthrie, Bob Wills, the Mound City Blue Blowers, Robert Johnson, early B.B. King - the New Orleans heritage - and eschewing manufactured assembly line “product” is the goal.
This is dangerously close to opinionated curmudgeonism, but it also means very little Motown, if any. No “Tin Pan Alley,” no Brill Building music. No TV music, no jazz fusion, not much “Great American Songbook,” maybe a selective look at the “British invasion.” With so many styles excluded, then what is left? The answer is: anything that represents cultural honesty, true individual creativity, played by real people with real instruments, stemming from an understanding of the original threads of American culture. And lest that sound too jingoistic, let’s remember that for millions of people, America is plural! Extrapolate the philosophy to all the Americas and the question then becomes: Even if one has been raised in a household steeped in various musics of the Americas, how can we possibly do justice to these diverse forms, are we even allowed the attempt? Our interest in replicating, and hopefully transcending indigenous forms - playing “other folks music” - is this cultural misappropriation?
It seems intellectually dishonest to borrow a style for personal profit alone. But if our performance is motivated by respect, study and understanding of these genres imbued with cultural integrity and history, we can only be faulted for our skill level. As long as we are honest about our relationship to, and love for music that is not intrinsic to our own experience, we will be recognized for our sincerity and intent. And our intention is to keep the origins of cultural diversity intact, not pandering to commercialism, not seeking self-aggrandizement. Throughout history, the troubadour has not only provided a song, but a means for introspection and the delivery of moral precepts. In the broader scope of historical definition, we as artists, are prophets. It is our ability to see through the veil - acting as emissaries who explore the antipodes of consciousness to bring back messages of truth, wisdom and joy - that is our value to society and our charter as creative artists.
Around 1925 the general public became aware of the new phenomena of mass produced sound recordings - phonograph records - and the advent of broadcast radio. This started a shift away from indigenous and local music, although originally it seemed a celebration of previously cloistered art forms. Born in 1943, I was raised by musically and technologically aware parents. The player piano, radio and record player were our sources for joy through music. We had player piano rolls recorded by both popular and classical musicians. One could pump the pedals, change the tempo, watch the keys while playing the Poet and Peasant Overture, Tishomingo Blues, Honeysuckle Rose as played by Fats Waller, or hits of the day like Cool Water by the Sons of the Pioneers. Hoagy Carmichael and Nat King Cole had weekly radio shows. And though the popular music of the day was sometimes insipid, the radio also brought us Duke Ellington and other big bands.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1920s_in_jazz
But the more permanent phonograph record allowed one to hear full blown ensembles without being tied to a scheduled program, and Louis Armstrong, Kid Ory, Bix Beiderbecke and a plethora of New Orleans and Chicago jazz artists were in constant rotation in the homes of record collectors. My parents ran a “Dixieland” record collectors club and had a one night a month show on radio KPOJ in Portland, Oregon. Parties at the house brought a crowd of smoking, drinking, “hot music” fans into our living room. The impetus was discovering great new recordings, or finding previously undiscovered platters to wow the assemblage. There were several record companies capitalizing on the technology and providing previously unimagined views into the American culture. Here’s a link to a Wikipedia description of just one of them, the Okeh label: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Okeh_Records
Our family moved to California in late 1952. We got our first black and white TV set (Portland had no TV station) and San Francisco provided us with the three network channels - Nat King Cole had a show, there were variety shows, and “Your Hit Parade” brought America’s top 7 songs of the week performed by their studio artists. In contrast, the 24 hour a day outpouring of jazz, rhythm and blues and “top 40” from Bay Area radio stations was compelling. The living room console radio had been replaced by the TV, but the kitchen AM radio was almost always on, providing a contemporary soundtrack. By the mid fifties there were “pop” stations KYA and KOBY, R&B stations KWBR and KSAN, and at night KROW played New York Blue Note style jazz. My love for what is now known as “trad” jazz quickly expanded to include the exciting new form known as rock and roll - and all it’s tributaries. http://history-of-rock.com/numberonerecord.htm
I started junior high school in 1955 already well aware that many of the new hit records associated with white performers were originally recorded as black r&b releases. The Portland record collectors had spirited discussions concerning cultural theft and the invalidity of white artists, and the Dixieland “revival” of the 50s was anathema to many. The advent of rock and roll brought America’s historical racism into bas relief, and the energy and cultural validity of rhythm and blues stood out in stark contrast to the white “covers.” The pain of the Jim Crow era, segregation, and real estate red-lining still predominated, and the fight for civil rights was just beginning. The inherent honesty and vibrancy of black music was the vanguard - proof of equality - and quality, denied!
Another component of early rock and roll was the tributary known as “rock-a-billy.” Elvis Presley, Ronnie Hawkins, Carl Perkins, even pianist/showman Jerry Lee Lewis emerged as exponents of this true form. Their artistry was a product of honest evolution - not stolen. As teenagers we had many favorite artists and styles. East Coast doo-wop was a contender, too. We pictured the romance of street corner harmonies, racially mixed ensembles using sweet song as an escape route from their ghettoized existence. Alas now we know too well that escape and stardom was, for most, an illusion shattered by unscrupulous agents, promoters and record companies - no matter what style your music. Nonetheless we idolized rock and roll performers. And those of us who loved the music enough to learn to play an instrument were exposed to concepts of artistry and skill, and we prized authentic and intellectually honest creation.
Early on the tenor saxophone was the chosen instrument to provide an exciting interlude within the story of the song. Rock and roll always had a strong dance component - picture Little Richard or Fats Domino at the piano, multiple saxes swaying to the rhythm - always a hot sax break in their records! But cultural streams started to diverge in the 60s. Rock and roll became simply “rock” and R&B and jazz went their own ways. During the height of America’s civil rights era, rock became global in scope and the electric guitar took center stage. English artists who profited from a secondary school system that featured art schools for those not interested in traditional trades took over. The Beatles, The Stones, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Dick Clark Five - most all of the English “invasion” - had studied their art, and the business of art. The Beatles received their MBE awards because they corrected Britain’s trade imbalance! (In addition to their prodigious talent.)
Then came the Summer of Love, 1967. “Folkies” amplified their guitars - amateurs adopted the style and mores of the day. Some of them had hit records before they learned how to play, either through sheer luck or record company promotion. Monterey Pop was the first venue where people actually sat in a performance arena to hear this new “psychedelic” music. Within a few years the original thrust of the counter-culture was diluted, forgotten or commercialized. For a while the modus operandi of the moneyed record producers was to discover, groom and publicize naive, home grown musicians and posturing poets. Then that was superseded by production of “hot-house flowers” - manufactured groups no longer in touch with their roots. The buying public was no longer seeking previously undiscovered Americana the way Dixieland record collectors and early rock and roll fans did.
Even the uniqueness of hip-hop fell prey to the moguls and big-money producers. The visual art, the dance styles, the purity of the streets, the undisputed creativity and skills of the DJ rappers became preempted. Some hip-hop and (offshore) Reggae forms still maintain some semblance of purity, folk art and funky originality, but instrumental music and popular vocal styles today are largely manufactured, corporate products. The popularity of diverse forms such as world music, bluegrass, alternative, house, electrónica, even Gospel - may stem from a subconscious need for validity and relevance in relation to a culture - which is lacking in the more popular formats of today’s “music.” Quotes around “music” because contemporary forms are obviously entertainment, staging and posturing before they are music!
This all leads to the need for a new charter for the modern musician living in the USA. The question is, “Where would American music be today if there had been no English invasion, no co-opting of styles by corporate culture thieves in the wake of the 60s psychedelic revolution, no turntable scratching, no sampling, no drum machines?” Can we “find our way back to the garden?” We can’t close our ears to the “progress” that’s been made, but if we dig deep enough maybe we can get back to the roots of Americana that suffused earlier forms. Regaining the purity of pioneers like Woody Guthrie, Bob Wills, the Mound City Blue Blowers, Robert Johnson, early B.B. King - the New Orleans heritage - and eschewing manufactured assembly line “product” is the goal.
This is dangerously close to opinionated curmudgeonism, but it also means very little Motown, if any. No “Tin Pan Alley,” no Brill Building music. No TV music, no jazz fusion, not much “Great American Songbook,” maybe a selective look at the “British invasion.” With so many styles excluded, then what is left? The answer is: anything that represents cultural honesty, true individual creativity, played by real people with real instruments, stemming from an understanding of the original threads of American culture. And lest that sound too jingoistic, let’s remember that for millions of people, America is plural! Extrapolate the philosophy to all the Americas and the question then becomes: Even if one has been raised in a household steeped in various musics of the Americas, how can we possibly do justice to these diverse forms, are we even allowed the attempt? Our interest in replicating, and hopefully transcending indigenous forms - playing “other folks music” - is this cultural misappropriation?
It seems intellectually dishonest to borrow a style for personal profit alone. But if our performance is motivated by respect, study and understanding of these genres imbued with cultural integrity and history, we can only be faulted for our skill level. As long as we are honest about our relationship to, and love for music that is not intrinsic to our own experience, we will be recognized for our sincerity and intent. And our intention is to keep the origins of cultural diversity intact, not pandering to commercialism, not seeking self-aggrandizement. Throughout history, the troubadour has not only provided a song, but a means for introspection and the delivery of moral precepts. In the broader scope of historical definition, we as artists, are prophets. It is our ability to see through the veil - acting as emissaries who explore the antipodes of consciousness to bring back messages of truth, wisdom and joy - that is our value to society and our charter as creative artists.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Dig a Little Deeper -- "War"
Your author has had two careers in music. From 1957 to 1972 I played rock, soul, r&b and modal jazz. Then from 1996 to 2011; blues, a "horn band" and some jazz gigs. When immersed in music as a career one often discovers wonderful recordings that offer a fresh perspective on a given artist's body of work. Not as well known as their hits, these second and third tier offerings are nevertheless wonderful, sometimes more engaging and suitable for repeat listening than their better known tunes. As a musician one enjoys playing new material, else the evening becomes a series of treks down familiar paths. Confidently playing your own taste mixed with titles familiar to the audience enlivens your presentation.
When I'm in the audience I hope to hear things I've never heard before. When vinyl 33s were the media of choice, we'd go to the record store and wait for a sound booth. With 2 or 3 LPs ready for audition, we looked for the thrill of discovering great unknown tracks. And at $2.98 for mono and $3.98 for stereo (circa 1960), one wanted to make sure there were all good cuts on an album. Sometimes you'd buy one, your friend buys the other one, and you go to each other's house to hear the sides. A few years later, when an album was $6.98 I had a bandleader who would fine us $7 for being late to rehearsal -- he had a pretty good record collection! That was 1969, a good year for funk, soul and R&B.
The last band I played in before my 1972 retirement was a funky 4-piece called Tyme. Lead singer Jean Glade had a great high voice, so Just My Imagination and Oh Girl by the Chilites were good for him. The rest of us sang, too. Strangely enough I did Sly's Family Affair, and a slow blues called Stranded, but I really dug singing background, especially on tunes by War. We did Get Down -- everybody got a verse -- and Gene shined on Slipping Into Darkness. Of course we did The World Is A Ghetto and I think we even did Four Cornered Room, but it was too slow and fell out of the repertoire. Later I was fortunate to sing lead on All Day Music with Edell and the Thunderbirds on a brief road trip in the Summer of 1974 -- another band with 4 singers, "Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah..." Later War became famous for Low Rider, Me And Baby Brother, the Cisco Kid -- but here's some of their back shelf -- and definitely funky stuff:
Life Is So Strange
City Country City edited to 3:30
Don't Let No One Get You Down
Why Can't We Be Friends
Ballero (flute)
Nappy Head
Fidel's Fantasy (flute in the middle)
live ==> Southern Part of Texas
Now there's a whole other perspective on War when one digs into their history, and the early association with Eric Burdon. I've never had the opportunity to dig into that back story, but I've been searching for some music I heard over the FM around 1970, the DJ introduced it as Eric Burdon and War, and there was a fantastic instrumental passage in the middle where they really went outside, somewhere between Fillmore psychedelic and John Cage abstraction. It was a long break, and it offered a shift in perspective just as mind-blowing as my first stoned listen to the orchestral freak-out at the end of the Beatles Day In The Life. Been looking for the lost Eric Burdon & War cut for over 40 years -- maybe I can find it on YouTube! And again, no apology for seeming to do little more than offer a list of YouTube links -- just being your guide -- does take some time to cull out the bad takes, the low level recordings. Please enjoy the play list...
When I'm in the audience I hope to hear things I've never heard before. When vinyl 33s were the media of choice, we'd go to the record store and wait for a sound booth. With 2 or 3 LPs ready for audition, we looked for the thrill of discovering great unknown tracks. And at $2.98 for mono and $3.98 for stereo (circa 1960), one wanted to make sure there were all good cuts on an album. Sometimes you'd buy one, your friend buys the other one, and you go to each other's house to hear the sides. A few years later, when an album was $6.98 I had a bandleader who would fine us $7 for being late to rehearsal -- he had a pretty good record collection! That was 1969, a good year for funk, soul and R&B.
The last band I played in before my 1972 retirement was a funky 4-piece called Tyme. Lead singer Jean Glade had a great high voice, so Just My Imagination and Oh Girl by the Chilites were good for him. The rest of us sang, too. Strangely enough I did Sly's Family Affair, and a slow blues called Stranded, but I really dug singing background, especially on tunes by War. We did Get Down -- everybody got a verse -- and Gene shined on Slipping Into Darkness. Of course we did The World Is A Ghetto and I think we even did Four Cornered Room, but it was too slow and fell out of the repertoire. Later I was fortunate to sing lead on All Day Music with Edell and the Thunderbirds on a brief road trip in the Summer of 1974 -- another band with 4 singers, "Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah..." Later War became famous for Low Rider, Me And Baby Brother, the Cisco Kid -- but here's some of their back shelf -- and definitely funky stuff:
Life Is So Strange
City Country City edited to 3:30
Don't Let No One Get You Down
Why Can't We Be Friends
Ballero (flute)
Nappy Head
Fidel's Fantasy (flute in the middle)
live ==> Southern Part of Texas
Now there's a whole other perspective on War when one digs into their history, and the early association with Eric Burdon. I've never had the opportunity to dig into that back story, but I've been searching for some music I heard over the FM around 1970, the DJ introduced it as Eric Burdon and War, and there was a fantastic instrumental passage in the middle where they really went outside, somewhere between Fillmore psychedelic and John Cage abstraction. It was a long break, and it offered a shift in perspective just as mind-blowing as my first stoned listen to the orchestral freak-out at the end of the Beatles Day In The Life. Been looking for the lost Eric Burdon & War cut for over 40 years -- maybe I can find it on YouTube! And again, no apology for seeming to do little more than offer a list of YouTube links -- just being your guide -- does take some time to cull out the bad takes, the low level recordings. Please enjoy the play list...
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Band
I've been reading "Hole in our Soul, The Loss of Beauty & Meaning in American Popular Music" by Martha Bayles, 390 pages of scholarly research and contemporary insight that's still relevant even though it was published in 1994. Shocked but pleased to find my love for 1960s funk vindicated as the author shares the point of view that something was lost circa 1968 forward as the music industry became more voracious and sophisticated, promoting "perverse modernism," shocking the public, pandering to the prurient. On the positive side, she celebrates 60s soul music as a culmination of the finest aspects our culture as expressed through the continuation of Afro-American traditions of community, ritual celebration and musical evolution.While her book has many excellent analyses of various artists, their styles and relationship to surrounding society, the focus is on macro forces and philosophies, leaving closer examination of stylistic nuance to other authors. In keeping with the Funk Now charter, this week I'm going to hip you to some of the funkiest cuts ever produced, the works of Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Band. A few weeks ago I tried to qualify for Google AdSense hoping I could make some bread off of blogging, but they turned me down as not prolific and simply posting pointers to YouTube videos. Nevertheless, my role here is virtual guide to the golden age of funk, and my value added is to save the reader time by preselecting the best songs and the best representative recordings, adding (hopefully) insightful comments.
I'm surprised that my initial searching for information on the Watts 103rd Street Band has offered little more than what Wikipedia and the LastFM site usually offer about any artist. Notably two fine guitarists appeared in Mr. Wright's bands, Al McKay (later with Earth, Wind and Fire) and Mel Brown who I met and gigged with briefly in Honolulu in the mid 60s. Obviously Benorce Blackmon is also an excellent guitarist, having played on everything after Al McKay left in 1969, and Charles is a lefty guitarist himself. If I had but one CD by this band it would be Express Yourself: The Best of Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band, an excellent collection featuring most of the YouTube links I have gathered from my memories and recent explorations.
My Amherst Studio Update blog will take a look at some of the architectural elements of a good funk recording next week, and I'll reference some of these songs for study. For now, just take a listen and enjoy!
Do Your Thing first notable release
Express Yourself parts 2&1
Your Love (Means Everything To Me)
Loveland a great doo-wop/funk fusion
What Can You Bring Me bass on upbeat eighths!
Ninety Day Cycle People (funk sci-fi!)
I Got Love
Till You Get Enough
Gimme That Sammich
Nonsense (long - a lesson in spontaneity)
Martha Bayles has a new book, Through A Screen Darkly. Find out more at darkscreen.yupnet.org. While America's image has been tarnished by cultural exports, she hopes to chart a positive path for the future. I hope to join that future and will offer some ideas when I finish my overdue essay on The Shape of Funk To Come.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Segue to Little Junior Parker
Two of my favorite artists recorded on the famous Duke Records label out of Houston, Texas. That would be Bobby "Blue" Bland and Little Junior Parker! Last week I focused the way-back machine on Mose Allison, and when I got to "That's All Right" I was reminded of Jr. Parker's version. Then my YouTube journey took me to Mr. Parker's lovely song, Someone Somewhere. For 50 years (!) I listened to that number in my head, couldn't find it in the old vinyl shops like Big Al's Record Barn or the Record Man in Redwood City, CA. A couple of years ago I checked YouTube again but the song was removed for copyright violations.
Apparently some of this rare old music is bird-dogged by their copyright holders, but most are too laid back to bother, or find value in keeping their titles publicized. I listen to songs on YouTube because it's too much work to search through my vinyl collection for 45s or search for album tracks. I'm slowly converting my vinyl collection to MP3s, but at the moment I'm stalled because I need a new high-quality stylus. When I found the previously unavailable Someone Somewhere as an MP3 download on Amazon.com, they got my 99 cents without hesitation. So, dear reader, dear listener, audition these sides, but when you hear something you really dig, don't "steal their bits." Jump on to a retail site and buy stuff for your "gold" collection and your own personal listening device.
Here's a list of my other favorites from Herman Parker Junior:
How Long Can This Go On (flip side of Annie Get Your YoYo)
In The Dark
Driving Wheel (loud but no annoying echo like the re-release)
Look On Yonders Wall (good bari sax on this one)
I Need Your Love So Bad
Don't Throw Your Love On Me So Strong
Five Long Years (very slow - great voice)
Mother In Law Blues
Sweet Home Chicago
Next Time You See Me
Apparently some of this rare old music is bird-dogged by their copyright holders, but most are too laid back to bother, or find value in keeping their titles publicized. I listen to songs on YouTube because it's too much work to search through my vinyl collection for 45s or search for album tracks. I'm slowly converting my vinyl collection to MP3s, but at the moment I'm stalled because I need a new high-quality stylus. When I found the previously unavailable Someone Somewhere as an MP3 download on Amazon.com, they got my 99 cents without hesitation. So, dear reader, dear listener, audition these sides, but when you hear something you really dig, don't "steal their bits." Jump on to a retail site and buy stuff for your "gold" collection and your own personal listening device.
Here's a list of my other favorites from Herman Parker Junior:How Long Can This Go On (flip side of Annie Get Your YoYo)
In The Dark
Driving Wheel (loud but no annoying echo like the re-release)
Look On Yonders Wall (good bari sax on this one)
I Need Your Love So Bad
Don't Throw Your Love On Me So Strong
Five Long Years (very slow - great voice)
Mother In Law Blues
Sweet Home Chicago
Next Time You See Me
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Mose Allison -- He's Funky
Mose Allison is funky, He really is. His comping and audible grunting, sense of laconic irony in both his voice and his piano phrasing, Mose is funky. I got to catch him live on two occasions. He was an uncredited genius with an insensitive audience both times I saw him. He's serious about his music and he became frustrated with the half-filled house of inattentive and self-absorbed patrons and his response was to play his piano solos in seconds. Jarring -- and he had a right to his attitude -- but I preferred the Mose I heard on his recordings.
And what great records he made! Back in the day when 45s were the media of choice, some of us had record players in our cars -- like my friend Bill -- 54 Buick, two door hardtop with a rake, and a great collection of jazz and blues 45s. The records stacked upside down and dropped down after they played. There was a cookie can from Woolworth's that just fit the 45s. I was DJ, suggesting the song list, or taking direction and prepping the record stacks:
Parchman Farm, Eyesight To The Blind, Do Nothin' Til You Hear From Me, Don't Get Around Much Anymore, Seventh Son, Lost Mind "I lost my mind in a wild romance," Your Molecular Structure, That's All Right, Your Mind Is On Vacation "You're over-laughin' when things ain't funny..." Foolkiller's comin'!
Some said a white man playing piano couldn't be playing blues. Well Mose is from Mississippi, where you from? Again, he's got a right. Music transcends race and ultimately music transcends description. Yes, we can describe Mose as a jazz pianist, a "casual" vocal stylist, but don't forget expressive, hip, capable, subtle, deep -- and funky!
"It is only because the world looks on his talent with such a frightening indifference that the artist is compelled to make his talent important." -- James Baldwin
Parchman Farm, Eyesight To The Blind, Do Nothin' Til You Hear From Me, Don't Get Around Much Anymore, Seventh Son, Lost Mind "I lost my mind in a wild romance," Your Molecular Structure, That's All Right, Your Mind Is On Vacation "You're over-laughin' when things ain't funny..." Foolkiller's comin'!
Some said a white man playing piano couldn't be playing blues. Well Mose is from Mississippi, where you from? Again, he's got a right. Music transcends race and ultimately music transcends description. Yes, we can describe Mose as a jazz pianist, a "casual" vocal stylist, but don't forget expressive, hip, capable, subtle, deep -- and funky!
"It is only because the world looks on his talent with such a frightening indifference that the artist is compelled to make his talent important." -- James Baldwin
Saturday, March 1, 2014
San Francisco -- South Bay Update
Sat in on the blues jam at Little Lou's on Winchester in Campbell Thursday the 27th of February, with bari sax man Ray DiFazio. It was an excellent night with 4 saxes up there for a few numbers. Host Aki Kumar graciously manages a steady procession of Bay Area blues luminaries, producing a stellar show. We had to wait to hear Aki, but it was well worth it -- he sings and plays blues harp just as good as he wants! Later stopped by the Quarter Note in Sunnyvale to help celebrate Diva Stativa's birthday. A wild funk-disco jam with 5 horns at one point, including old friends Tony Bolivar and Mike Luzzi, new friend Fred on trumpet. I'll be reviewing some of these local haps on the Funk Now blog in the future...
Sneaky Pete led off the jam in Campbell. Ray and I arrived a little bit later -- but I'll be jamming with Pete in a couple of weeks at JJ's San Jose. No cover on Thursday -- New York Pizza is next door and JJ's is "pizza friendly!"
Sneaky Pete led off the jam in Campbell. Ray and I arrived a little bit later -- but I'll be jamming with Pete in a couple of weeks at JJ's San Jose. No cover on Thursday -- New York Pizza is next door and JJ's is "pizza friendly!"
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