The Angels of Joy - Mr. President
I don't know much about today's selection other than its appearance on the Kent CD Slow and Moody, Black and Bluesy ... it's a great piece of gospel soul whose message is as timely today as it was when recorded. At a time when we are mired in an awful war, rising fuel costs and so much uncertainty, "so many minds are troubled" is the truth, not just a lyric.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Get on Board the Soul Train!
The Soul Train Gang - Soul Train Theme
In 1975, Don Cornelius decided to use his clout from his hit "Soul Train" show to get into the record business. Cornelius and partner Dick Griffey started the Soul Train label and formed the Soul Train Gang vocal group as their first act. (The name "Soul Train Gang" originally applied to the dancers on the show; they were renamed the "Soul Train Dancers.") Although "Soul Train '75" (which replaced "TSOP" as show's theme song) and some other songs made a little noise upon release, neither the group nor the label (which had also signed the Whispers and released one LP on Shalimar, a group formed around some "Soul Train" dancers) really took off, and by the end of the '70s Don Cornelius abandoned the venture. Dick Griffey renamed the label Solar (Sound of Los Angeles Records) and that label became an '80s hit machine, hitting big with Shalimar and the Whispers (maybe Don should've stayed around longer?), Lakeside and others.
Today's selection was the 1976 successor to "Soul Train '75" as the show's theme song. The mostly-instrumental track is a Philly disco romp featuring a solid rhythm, strong horn charts, and good ensemble singing by the group. It's one of my favorite non-"TSOP" theme songs to the show (along with "Hot Potato," the original theme). Get on, get on, get on, get on board!
In 1975, Don Cornelius decided to use his clout from his hit "Soul Train" show to get into the record business. Cornelius and partner Dick Griffey started the Soul Train label and formed the Soul Train Gang vocal group as their first act. (The name "Soul Train Gang" originally applied to the dancers on the show; they were renamed the "Soul Train Dancers.") Although "Soul Train '75" (which replaced "TSOP" as show's theme song) and some other songs made a little noise upon release, neither the group nor the label (which had also signed the Whispers and released one LP on Shalimar, a group formed around some "Soul Train" dancers) really took off, and by the end of the '70s Don Cornelius abandoned the venture. Dick Griffey renamed the label Solar (Sound of Los Angeles Records) and that label became an '80s hit machine, hitting big with Shalimar and the Whispers (maybe Don should've stayed around longer?), Lakeside and others.
Today's selection was the 1976 successor to "Soul Train '75" as the show's theme song. The mostly-instrumental track is a Philly disco romp featuring a solid rhythm, strong horn charts, and good ensemble singing by the group. It's one of my favorite non-"TSOP" theme songs to the show (along with "Hot Potato," the original theme). Get on, get on, get on, get on board!
Friday, April 28, 2006
Not-So-Super Taylor
Johnnie Taylor - Don't You Fool With My Soul (Pt. 1)
In Rob Bowman's liner notes to The Complete Stax/Volt Soul Singles, Vol. 3: 1972-1975, he discusses how Johnnie Taylor had started to chafe at producer Don Davis' production style. Davis, a veteran of Detroit labels such as Thelma, Revilot and Groovesville, had been brought to Stax by Al Bell to give the label a more northern feel. Davis was an adherent to the Motown assembly-line method of production: he would pre-record tracks and then have the vocalist work within the parameters of said tracks. This method did not make Davis a popular person among many Stax artists, especially the "old guard" artists from the earlier days of the label, when sessions were done with "head" arrangements and recorded live on the studio floor. Although Taylor was not from the "old guard," per se, and although Davis' style had racked up an amazing string of hits for the soul legend, Taylor wanted to do things his way.
I won't say that "Don't You Fool With My Soul," which was penned by Taylor and Sam Cooke associate J.W. Alexander and produced by Taylor, is a horrible recording, but it is definately a mark below anything Taylor had recorded for Stax, whether produced by Don Davis or anyone else on the Stax staff. The groove is attractive, but Taylor's lyrics and vocals are very unfocused. I think Taylor was trying to go for a James Brown type of thing, but only JB could really pull off a meandering, chanted vocal. When the single, unsurprisingly, was a total flop (it was his first single since 1968's "Who's Making Love" to not make the charts), Taylor returned to Davis, who gave Taylor a #1 R&B hit with the very next single, "I Believe In You (You Believe In Me)."
I'm putting the song here today, though, because despite its failings, it's a nice piece of funky soul and sometimes the lesser recordings are worth checking out. Were it a recording by someone else, it might be considered to be a decent, if not spectacular, recording. Considering that it is a Johnnie Taylor record, though, it serves as an object lesson of what happens when a star doesn't stick with a proven winning formula. One last point: in fairness to Don Davis, it must be noted that Johnnie Taylor often was wary of various projects sent his way: he called "Who's Making Love" a "boogedy boogedy" song and only recorded it after Davis threatened to let Sam & Dave record it instead (now *that* would have been an awesome thing!), and he really didn't like the way "Disco Lady" sounded and thought that the first single from the Eargasm album should've been something else!
In Rob Bowman's liner notes to The Complete Stax/Volt Soul Singles, Vol. 3: 1972-1975, he discusses how Johnnie Taylor had started to chafe at producer Don Davis' production style. Davis, a veteran of Detroit labels such as Thelma, Revilot and Groovesville, had been brought to Stax by Al Bell to give the label a more northern feel. Davis was an adherent to the Motown assembly-line method of production: he would pre-record tracks and then have the vocalist work within the parameters of said tracks. This method did not make Davis a popular person among many Stax artists, especially the "old guard" artists from the earlier days of the label, when sessions were done with "head" arrangements and recorded live on the studio floor. Although Taylor was not from the "old guard," per se, and although Davis' style had racked up an amazing string of hits for the soul legend, Taylor wanted to do things his way.
I won't say that "Don't You Fool With My Soul," which was penned by Taylor and Sam Cooke associate J.W. Alexander and produced by Taylor, is a horrible recording, but it is definately a mark below anything Taylor had recorded for Stax, whether produced by Don Davis or anyone else on the Stax staff. The groove is attractive, but Taylor's lyrics and vocals are very unfocused. I think Taylor was trying to go for a James Brown type of thing, but only JB could really pull off a meandering, chanted vocal. When the single, unsurprisingly, was a total flop (it was his first single since 1968's "Who's Making Love" to not make the charts), Taylor returned to Davis, who gave Taylor a #1 R&B hit with the very next single, "I Believe In You (You Believe In Me)."
I'm putting the song here today, though, because despite its failings, it's a nice piece of funky soul and sometimes the lesser recordings are worth checking out. Were it a recording by someone else, it might be considered to be a decent, if not spectacular, recording. Considering that it is a Johnnie Taylor record, though, it serves as an object lesson of what happens when a star doesn't stick with a proven winning formula. One last point: in fairness to Don Davis, it must be noted that Johnnie Taylor often was wary of various projects sent his way: he called "Who's Making Love" a "boogedy boogedy" song and only recorded it after Davis threatened to let Sam & Dave record it instead (now *that* would have been an awesome thing!), and he really didn't like the way "Disco Lady" sounded and thought that the first single from the Eargasm album should've been something else!
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Little Richard Is a Soul Man!
Little Richard - Try Some of Mine
Little Richard will forever be known as one of the figures present at the birth of rock and roll (even if they don't consider him the "creator, the originator," as he prefers to say) with his electrifying classics such as "Tutti Frutti," "Slippin' and Slidin'" and others. At the peak of his '50s fame, however, Richard got religion and walked away from his career for a few years, save for gospel recordings, some of which retained his rock and roll stylings (the Mercury recording "He Got What He Wanted (But He Lost What He Had)" comes to mind). Within a few years, however, Richard was back in the saddle, hitting with "Bama Lama Bama Loo" for his old label, Specialty, but by that time label owner Art Rupe was ready to get out of the record business.
For the rest of the '60s Richard had a nomadic recording career, revisiting his '50s sides but also taking on another angle: Little Richard as soul singer. The Don Covay-penned "I Don't Know What You Got (But It's Got Me)" was a Southern Soul ballad that hit big in the waning days of the Vee Jay label, and Richard waxed the Northern Soul classics "I Don't Want to Discuss It," "Poor Dog (Can't Wag His Own Tail)" and "A Little Bit of Something" for OKeh. Recordings for Modern, Kent and Brunswick further demonstrate his ability to handle soul material. Today's selection was a Brunswick release and finds Richard working it out over a great groove launched by a good, churchy guitar intro.
By the 1970s, the rock and roll revival movement cemented Richard as a public figure for all time, with his swamp soul-rock album The Rill Thing (Reprise) leading the way. Although Richard would abandon show biz a few more times in the name of God and would later stop cutting contemporary material (although he had a surprise hit in 1986 with the retro "Great Gosh A'Mighty" from the soundtrack of Down and Out in Beverly Hills, in which he appeared), 2006 finds Little Richard still doing oldies shows and bringing his flamboyant personality to the public. It's unfortunate, though, that his great soul sides of the '60s and early '70s aren't as well-known, because they present a great facet to the amazing talent that is Little Richard.
Little Richard will forever be known as one of the figures present at the birth of rock and roll (even if they don't consider him the "creator, the originator," as he prefers to say) with his electrifying classics such as "Tutti Frutti," "Slippin' and Slidin'" and others. At the peak of his '50s fame, however, Richard got religion and walked away from his career for a few years, save for gospel recordings, some of which retained his rock and roll stylings (the Mercury recording "He Got What He Wanted (But He Lost What He Had)" comes to mind). Within a few years, however, Richard was back in the saddle, hitting with "Bama Lama Bama Loo" for his old label, Specialty, but by that time label owner Art Rupe was ready to get out of the record business.
For the rest of the '60s Richard had a nomadic recording career, revisiting his '50s sides but also taking on another angle: Little Richard as soul singer. The Don Covay-penned "I Don't Know What You Got (But It's Got Me)" was a Southern Soul ballad that hit big in the waning days of the Vee Jay label, and Richard waxed the Northern Soul classics "I Don't Want to Discuss It," "Poor Dog (Can't Wag His Own Tail)" and "A Little Bit of Something" for OKeh. Recordings for Modern, Kent and Brunswick further demonstrate his ability to handle soul material. Today's selection was a Brunswick release and finds Richard working it out over a great groove launched by a good, churchy guitar intro.
By the 1970s, the rock and roll revival movement cemented Richard as a public figure for all time, with his swamp soul-rock album The Rill Thing (Reprise) leading the way. Although Richard would abandon show biz a few more times in the name of God and would later stop cutting contemporary material (although he had a surprise hit in 1986 with the retro "Great Gosh A'Mighty" from the soundtrack of Down and Out in Beverly Hills, in which he appeared), 2006 finds Little Richard still doing oldies shows and bringing his flamboyant personality to the public. It's unfortunate, though, that his great soul sides of the '60s and early '70s aren't as well-known, because they present a great facet to the amazing talent that is Little Richard.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
"Mr. Big Stuff," Revisited
Lyn Collins - Mr. Big Stuff
One of these days I'm going to do a post or a mini-podcast of some sort about Jean Knight's "Mr. Big Stuff" and the rash of covers and answer records the 1971 smash engendered, ranging from male retorts ("I'm Mr. Big Stuff" by Jimmy Hicks and the then-unissued "Sister Hot Pants" by Freddie Robinson) to further female sass ("I'm Too Tough (For Mr. Big Stuff)" by Vicki Anderson). But in advance of that, here's today's selection.
This version of "Mr. Big Stuff" comes from the late Lyn Collins, then the featured femme vocalist in the James Brown Revue. Collins worked with Brown from 1971 to around 1976 and hit big with the sampler favorite "Think (About It)," which provided the foundation for the hip-hop classic "It Takes Two" by Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock. Although Collins stated in interviews that she would've preferred to do more singing and less shouting on her People recordings for JB (since most of her songs followed the JB formula), she could give up the funk as well as anyone else on the scene at the time. "Mr. Big Stuff" was one of her later People recordings, from either 1975 or 1976. Over a much lighter and faster groove than the original Collins adroitly handles the classic lyrics, but then, where the original would be heading into the fade, the band shifts gears and puts down a totally different groove, over which Lyn brings her diva fire to great ad-libs ("if you want to keep me, you gotta hustle ... if you want to keep me, you gotta get a job") to take it all home.
One of these days I'm going to do a post or a mini-podcast of some sort about Jean Knight's "Mr. Big Stuff" and the rash of covers and answer records the 1971 smash engendered, ranging from male retorts ("I'm Mr. Big Stuff" by Jimmy Hicks and the then-unissued "Sister Hot Pants" by Freddie Robinson) to further female sass ("I'm Too Tough (For Mr. Big Stuff)" by Vicki Anderson). But in advance of that, here's today's selection.
This version of "Mr. Big Stuff" comes from the late Lyn Collins, then the featured femme vocalist in the James Brown Revue. Collins worked with Brown from 1971 to around 1976 and hit big with the sampler favorite "Think (About It)," which provided the foundation for the hip-hop classic "It Takes Two" by Rob Base and D.J. E-Z Rock. Although Collins stated in interviews that she would've preferred to do more singing and less shouting on her People recordings for JB (since most of her songs followed the JB formula), she could give up the funk as well as anyone else on the scene at the time. "Mr. Big Stuff" was one of her later People recordings, from either 1975 or 1976. Over a much lighter and faster groove than the original Collins adroitly handles the classic lyrics, but then, where the original would be heading into the fade, the band shifts gears and puts down a totally different groove, over which Lyn brings her diva fire to great ad-libs ("if you want to keep me, you gotta hustle ... if you want to keep me, you gotta get a job") to take it all home.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Funky Coasters!
The Coasters - Soul Pad
The Coasters, with songs and production support from the legendary songwriting team of Leiber and Stoller, are known to anyone who knows anything about music or the 1950s due to their comic gems "Charlie Brown," "Yakkety Yak," "Along Came Jones" and so many others. Although their glory years were behind them by the time the group recorded today's selection, the alchemy between the group and Leiber and Stoller was still there. "Soul Pad" was released as a Date single in 1967 and reissued as a King single in 1972 (during the short period that Leiber and Stoller owned the label). "Soul Pad" adds a touch of '60s funk to the sly comedy and vocal style that was the foundation of the Coasters' classic Atco recordings. There aren't many places where "jazz and funk" and "Thelonius Monk" are thrown together for a rhyme, but, unsurprisingly, it's here. It should be noted that the Date single is a double-sided treasure, because its flip is the excellent funk reading of "Down Home Girl," in which Leiber and Stoller's new lyrics (the song had formerly been recorded by New Orleans legend Alvin Robinson) bring even more comedy. ("Down Home Girl" was also reissued, but as a separate single.) It's even funkier than "Soul Pad"; I'll have to post it another time.
The Coasters, with songs and production support from the legendary songwriting team of Leiber and Stoller, are known to anyone who knows anything about music or the 1950s due to their comic gems "Charlie Brown," "Yakkety Yak," "Along Came Jones" and so many others. Although their glory years were behind them by the time the group recorded today's selection, the alchemy between the group and Leiber and Stoller was still there. "Soul Pad" was released as a Date single in 1967 and reissued as a King single in 1972 (during the short period that Leiber and Stoller owned the label). "Soul Pad" adds a touch of '60s funk to the sly comedy and vocal style that was the foundation of the Coasters' classic Atco recordings. There aren't many places where "jazz and funk" and "Thelonius Monk" are thrown together for a rhyme, but, unsurprisingly, it's here. It should be noted that the Date single is a double-sided treasure, because its flip is the excellent funk reading of "Down Home Girl," in which Leiber and Stoller's new lyrics (the song had formerly been recorded by New Orleans legend Alvin Robinson) bring even more comedy. ("Down Home Girl" was also reissued, but as a separate single.) It's even funkier than "Soul Pad"; I'll have to post it another time.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Ain't Gonna Bump With Joe Tex
Joe Tex - Leaving You Dinner
After Joe Tex struck paydirt in 1972 with "I Gotcha," he abruptly shifted gears and took a break from showbiz to travel across the country as a minister for the Nation of Islam. (For some reason, Joe Tex as a preacher isn't a very surprising thing, considering his sermonettes that graced so many of his hits.) Within a few years, however, Tex was back in the studio and he found himself enjoying a disco hit in 1977 with "Ain't Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman)," one of several "anti-disco" disco songs Tex would record between 1977 and 1980. Although "Bump" was a good record (certainly better than attempts many other older soul artists - such as Tex's rival James Brown - made at disco records), the entire Bumps and Bruises LP doesn't stay in a disco rut, featuring instead rollicking tunes like "We Held On," the humorous "I Mess Up Everything I Get My Hands On" and today's selection, a nice Southern ballad with an interesting lyric. At a time when disco ruled the airwaves and "Soul Train" (on which Tex appeared, actually bumping with a "big fat woman"), "Leaving You Dinner" had zero chance of single release, but it's one of my favorite later-'70s Joe Tex songs.
After Joe Tex struck paydirt in 1972 with "I Gotcha," he abruptly shifted gears and took a break from showbiz to travel across the country as a minister for the Nation of Islam. (For some reason, Joe Tex as a preacher isn't a very surprising thing, considering his sermonettes that graced so many of his hits.) Within a few years, however, Tex was back in the studio and he found himself enjoying a disco hit in 1977 with "Ain't Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman)," one of several "anti-disco" disco songs Tex would record between 1977 and 1980. Although "Bump" was a good record (certainly better than attempts many other older soul artists - such as Tex's rival James Brown - made at disco records), the entire Bumps and Bruises LP doesn't stay in a disco rut, featuring instead rollicking tunes like "We Held On," the humorous "I Mess Up Everything I Get My Hands On" and today's selection, a nice Southern ballad with an interesting lyric. At a time when disco ruled the airwaves and "Soul Train" (on which Tex appeared, actually bumping with a "big fat woman"), "Leaving You Dinner" had zero chance of single release, but it's one of my favorite later-'70s Joe Tex songs.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
The HSE That Hoyt Built
The Dailey Singers - Come This Far By Faith
As promised earlier, today's post is about the HSE gospel record label. HSE, based in South Carolina at one point and then Nashville at another, stood for "Hoyt Sullivan Enterprises"; the namesake thereof ran a Southern beauty products concern in addition to this primarily-gospel record label. (In my aircheck collection I have a tape of WLAC's John R doing an advertisement for a "scalp conditioner" that Sullivan manufactured.) The HSE label was decidedly a mark below the majors of the time such as Peacock, Savoy, Nashboro, recording for the most part small-time gospel groups such as Nashville's Bethlehem Gospel Singers (whose "My Bible Is Right" LP was the first gospel album I ever heard) and the Gerald Sisters and groups whose glory years had faded (both the CBS Trumpeteers nad the Soul Stirrers ended up on HSE in the later '70s). The only group whose career blossomed from HSE, to my knowledge, is Willie Banks and The Messengers, whose gospel career goes on strong today. HSE gospel recordings are highly-prized by record collectors for their DYI feel and often brilliant (if technically sloppy) recordings. Today's selection, for example, is full of Holy Ghost fire, but also occasionally off-kilter accompaniment and a lead singer whose frothy testifying threatens to run the tune off the rails. There's truly no "show or fashion" going on here; just hard female gospel singing.
Unfortunately there's not a lot of info online about the HSE label. Kevin Nutt often plays HSE material on his "Sinner's Crossroads" radio show (see link on the right), but in my correspondence with him he didn't have a lot of additional info. If anyone knows anything about Hoyt Sullivan or his label I would love to hear from you. In the meantime, I'll keep looking for those green-and-black 45s and LPs!
As promised earlier, today's post is about the HSE gospel record label. HSE, based in South Carolina at one point and then Nashville at another, stood for "Hoyt Sullivan Enterprises"; the namesake thereof ran a Southern beauty products concern in addition to this primarily-gospel record label. (In my aircheck collection I have a tape of WLAC's John R doing an advertisement for a "scalp conditioner" that Sullivan manufactured.) The HSE label was decidedly a mark below the majors of the time such as Peacock, Savoy, Nashboro, recording for the most part small-time gospel groups such as Nashville's Bethlehem Gospel Singers (whose "My Bible Is Right" LP was the first gospel album I ever heard) and the Gerald Sisters and groups whose glory years had faded (both the CBS Trumpeteers nad the Soul Stirrers ended up on HSE in the later '70s). The only group whose career blossomed from HSE, to my knowledge, is Willie Banks and The Messengers, whose gospel career goes on strong today. HSE gospel recordings are highly-prized by record collectors for their DYI feel and often brilliant (if technically sloppy) recordings. Today's selection, for example, is full of Holy Ghost fire, but also occasionally off-kilter accompaniment and a lead singer whose frothy testifying threatens to run the tune off the rails. There's truly no "show or fashion" going on here; just hard female gospel singing.
Unfortunately there's not a lot of info online about the HSE label. Kevin Nutt often plays HSE material on his "Sinner's Crossroads" radio show (see link on the right), but in my correspondence with him he didn't have a lot of additional info. If anyone knows anything about Hoyt Sullivan or his label I would love to hear from you. In the meantime, I'll keep looking for those green-and-black 45s and LPs!
Saturday, April 22, 2006
He Who Hesitates Is Singing a Jimmy Holiday Song
Jimmy Holiday - Everybody Needs Somebody
Soul singer-songwriter Jimmy Holiday was featured in one of the very first posts on this blog. Today's selection is yet another one of his excellent ballads, featuring his hesitant, emotion-laden vocals. Something about his voice always gets to me.
Soul singer-songwriter Jimmy Holiday was featured in one of the very first posts on this blog. Today's selection is yet another one of his excellent ballads, featuring his hesitant, emotion-laden vocals. Something about his voice always gets to me.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Testify!
Johnson 3+1 - Testify
Occasionally I hear songs that leave me scratching my head and stating "it's a wonder they didn't get sued" because the songs are nothing but reworking of other tunes. These songs, naturally, fall short of being cover versions because they have new titles and claim different songwriting credits and are just different enough to not be the real thing. Several songs immediately come to mind: "Ruby Dean" by Bobby Womack (later recorded by Joe Hicks), which took on the Kenny Rogers song "Ruby Don't Take Your Love to Town"; "I Could Never Be Happy" by The Emotions, which liberally borrowed from "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," as done by Diana Ross; "The Ballad of Mr. Pitiful" by Charlie Whitehead, which does an awesome job working around the Otis Redding classic; and today's selection, which took Archie Bell & The Drells' 1968 mega-hit "Tighten Up," added some crowd noise and new lyrics and got busy.
This MP3 came from Barry "Soul Brother" Fowden, who also has a great page about the Venture label, on which the song was recorded. (Barry, if you want me to remove this file please let me know. It's just too hot of a groove for me to sit on!) While you're reading the article, check out his entire Soul Cellar website, which has lots of good material about many artists (especially Phillip Mitchell) and is the home of his awesome radio show, which he does more frequently (and better) than I do!
Occasionally I hear songs that leave me scratching my head and stating "it's a wonder they didn't get sued" because the songs are nothing but reworking of other tunes. These songs, naturally, fall short of being cover versions because they have new titles and claim different songwriting credits and are just different enough to not be the real thing. Several songs immediately come to mind: "Ruby Dean" by Bobby Womack (later recorded by Joe Hicks), which took on the Kenny Rogers song "Ruby Don't Take Your Love to Town"; "I Could Never Be Happy" by The Emotions, which liberally borrowed from "Ain't No Mountain High Enough," as done by Diana Ross; "The Ballad of Mr. Pitiful" by Charlie Whitehead, which does an awesome job working around the Otis Redding classic; and today's selection, which took Archie Bell & The Drells' 1968 mega-hit "Tighten Up," added some crowd noise and new lyrics and got busy.
This MP3 came from Barry "Soul Brother" Fowden, who also has a great page about the Venture label, on which the song was recorded. (Barry, if you want me to remove this file please let me know. It's just too hot of a groove for me to sit on!) While you're reading the article, check out his entire Soul Cellar website, which has lots of good material about many artists (especially Phillip Mitchell) and is the home of his awesome radio show, which he does more frequently (and better) than I do!
Thursday, April 20, 2006
B-O-B-B-Y
Bobby "Blue" Bland - Little Boy Blue
When I lived in Chicago I would spend many late Saturday nights tuned to WVON to hear "The All-Night Blues Man" himself, Pervis Spann, play blues and soul-blues as if it were still 1965, with Spann talking over records and taking phone calls. Almost all of the callers were older black people, some sounding either sleep-deprived or intoxicated, and all asking for some Johnnie Taylor, Tyrone Davis or, as they would say invariably as one word, "Bobbybluebland."
It is this pool of older black people that have kept Bobby Bland going on steadily into his sixth decade as a performer. Although in his heyday Bland was second only to B.B. King as a blues star and R&B hitmaker, strangely he was never able to capture the white audience the way B.B. did. I think there are several reasons for this, but three immediately come to mind: (1) Bland was strictly a vocalist, so the blues-rock crowd, attuned almost totally to blues guitarists, ignored him; (2) his "blues" had more than a small dollop of R&B and soul in them - so much so that a British critic considered his landmark LP Two Steps From the Blues to be "a million steps" instead; and (3) Bland projected a "grown folk" approach in his vocal style and song choices that didn't translate well to "the kids," who were instead digging the Motown sound.
Despite the lack of crossover success, however, Bland was "The MAN" in the "chitlin' circuit," where he was known for both his sweet-and-rough vocal stylings (on one hand he could project vulnerability in tender moments but then he would cut loose with a gargling shout that was known as "the squall," which Bland borrowed from C.L. Franklin's sermons) and his top-notch stage presentation (his band, led by trumpeter and arranger Joe Scott, was one of the best on the "chitlin' circuit," and Bland himself was known for his sharp wardrobe and such lady-killer antics as spreading a white hankie on the stage floor before kneeling down on it to belt out a song - he couldn't get his suit dirty, you see). Even today, he remains a major draw among black audiences, although his audience has aged along with him. I saw Bobby at the Chicago Blues Festival in the late 1990s and more black people were present than usual at the Festival to see him. Bland had them in the palm of his hand and the ladies still hollered when he did "the squall" (although "the squall" has, in later years, is so phlegmy it sounds like he's clearing his throat).
"Little Boy Blue" was released on Duke in 1958 and, despite that early vintage, has a very strong soul sound. Bland adroitly sells the story of a remorseful lover and "takes it to church" in the very strong finale. It's an awesome song, and it's one of my favorite Bland tunes.
(By the way, the name of this blog and my podcast is actually inspired by the title of one of Bland's 1970s LPs for ABC, Get on Down With Bobby Bland. With that in mind, I plan to post more Bobby Bland stuff soon!)
When I lived in Chicago I would spend many late Saturday nights tuned to WVON to hear "The All-Night Blues Man" himself, Pervis Spann, play blues and soul-blues as if it were still 1965, with Spann talking over records and taking phone calls. Almost all of the callers were older black people, some sounding either sleep-deprived or intoxicated, and all asking for some Johnnie Taylor, Tyrone Davis or, as they would say invariably as one word, "Bobbybluebland."
It is this pool of older black people that have kept Bobby Bland going on steadily into his sixth decade as a performer. Although in his heyday Bland was second only to B.B. King as a blues star and R&B hitmaker, strangely he was never able to capture the white audience the way B.B. did. I think there are several reasons for this, but three immediately come to mind: (1) Bland was strictly a vocalist, so the blues-rock crowd, attuned almost totally to blues guitarists, ignored him; (2) his "blues" had more than a small dollop of R&B and soul in them - so much so that a British critic considered his landmark LP Two Steps From the Blues to be "a million steps" instead; and (3) Bland projected a "grown folk" approach in his vocal style and song choices that didn't translate well to "the kids," who were instead digging the Motown sound.
Despite the lack of crossover success, however, Bland was "The MAN" in the "chitlin' circuit," where he was known for both his sweet-and-rough vocal stylings (on one hand he could project vulnerability in tender moments but then he would cut loose with a gargling shout that was known as "the squall," which Bland borrowed from C.L. Franklin's sermons) and his top-notch stage presentation (his band, led by trumpeter and arranger Joe Scott, was one of the best on the "chitlin' circuit," and Bland himself was known for his sharp wardrobe and such lady-killer antics as spreading a white hankie on the stage floor before kneeling down on it to belt out a song - he couldn't get his suit dirty, you see). Even today, he remains a major draw among black audiences, although his audience has aged along with him. I saw Bobby at the Chicago Blues Festival in the late 1990s and more black people were present than usual at the Festival to see him. Bland had them in the palm of his hand and the ladies still hollered when he did "the squall" (although "the squall" has, in later years, is so phlegmy it sounds like he's clearing his throat).
"Little Boy Blue" was released on Duke in 1958 and, despite that early vintage, has a very strong soul sound. Bland adroitly sells the story of a remorseful lover and "takes it to church" in the very strong finale. It's an awesome song, and it's one of my favorite Bland tunes.
(By the way, the name of this blog and my podcast is actually inspired by the title of one of Bland's 1970s LPs for ABC, Get on Down With Bobby Bland. With that in mind, I plan to post more Bobby Bland stuff soon!)
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Stax's Detroit Soul
Barbara Lewis - Just the Way You Are Today
Barbara Lewis is best known for her teenage soul classics "Hello Stranger" and "Baby I'm Yours," to name two. After Lewis' association with Atlantic Records ended she and long-time producer Ollie MacLaughlin hooked up with Stax Records to release her only LP for the Enterprise label, The Many Grooves of Barbara Lewis. Today's selection was the first of two singles pulled from the LP. Despite it being a great song with great vocals by Lewis and a sterling arrangement, both the single and, subsequently, the album failed to sell and Lewis decided to retire from professional singing. I read somewhere that she's considering making a comeback. Let's hope she does!
Barbara Lewis is best known for her teenage soul classics "Hello Stranger" and "Baby I'm Yours," to name two. After Lewis' association with Atlantic Records ended she and long-time producer Ollie MacLaughlin hooked up with Stax Records to release her only LP for the Enterprise label, The Many Grooves of Barbara Lewis. Today's selection was the first of two singles pulled from the LP. Despite it being a great song with great vocals by Lewis and a sterling arrangement, both the single and, subsequently, the album failed to sell and Lewis decided to retire from professional singing. I read somewhere that she's considering making a comeback. Let's hope she does!
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