August 4, 2011.

Wow, way overdue on adding new posts here. Part of it is that I’ve been absolutely overwhelmed with great records the last few weeks…not a bad thing at all, but it left me struggling to decide on what to post and what to leave a mystery, the “secret stash” that all true collectors hold close, only revealing it to the most trusted of confidants. Two particular events contributed to the addition of 100+ records to the stacks recently. The first was accidentally stumbling upon a jackpot of rare soul and funk LP’s at a thrift store, with all the records being sold for $3 apiece. The second was the generosity of a family friend, who was kind enough to let me dig through her entire collection and take whatever I wanted for free, these records also being a treasure trove of exclusively exquisite ‘70’s funk and soul. So, fast-forward to now, where I’ve had a couple of work-free weeks to explore these gems, and I still haven’t even scratched the surface…so many amazing finds. I’ll begin with the records below, and will try not to be such a stranger to my own blog through August and September. Lots of catching up to do!

Johnny Jenkins: "Ton-Ton Macoute"

$3 at a thrift store for this very rare and sought-after platter.  Anyone wondering where Beck got most of his ‘90’s ethos from need look no further than this record, perhaps most famous for containing the sample that served as a foundation for “Loser.”  That is a mere footnote, however, to the magic that occurs here, with southern soul belter Jenkins being backed by none other than the Allman Brothers Band, before Duane’s tragic death.  I like the Allman Brothers and everything, but damn, I never dreamed they could be this funky!!  It’s like a completely different band, with the only telltale sign of their trademark style being Duane’s stinging slide guitar work.  “I Walk On Gilded Splinters” is the most-referred-to cut on this LP, featuring not only the entire “Loser” sample but also an incredible introductory breakbeat, funkier than nine cans of shaving powder.  The record proceeds in an even darker direction from there on out, positively reveling in its late-night, swampy, voodoo-funk vibe.  At one point Jenkins tackles Muddy Waters’ classic “Rollin’ Stone,” and he sounds positively haunted by the spirit of the Delta, a harrowing yet riveting experience for the listener.  This is music for incantations, spells, soul-searching…you will not be the same after the needle skids onto the dead wax.

Cymande: "Promised Heights"

When I came across this in the same thrift store stack that I found the Johnny Jenkins LP in, I was completely taken aback.  I had only ever seen reissues of this available, and never thought I would find an original copy, much less one in such pristine shape.  This is one of those records that stands outside of any easily-assumed labels or categories, with Cymande brewing up a concoction of influences that incorporates everything from funk and soul to reggae, dub, afro-beat, afro-cuban, soukous and calypso.  While their hardest-hitting funk cut, “Brothers On The Slide,” is here in all its glory, there is much else to gravitate towards on this LP.  “Pon De Jungle” opens up the album with a hypnotic chant, followed by the Mandrill-esque funk of “Equatorial Forest.”  “Brothers…” finds one of the vocalists in the group doing their best Curtis Mayfield impression, yet the percussion breakdown in the middle is a clear indicator that this is no windy city soul record.  “Changes,” perhaps my favorite song on the album, cultivates a sublime, mellow, meditative mood, awash in languid guitars and a drifting, lazy tempo.  Other cuts that stand out are the title track and the closing “Sheshamani,” further proof that Cymande were on to something unique with their heady mix of styles.  Why the band never achieved greater success in their own time will forever be a puzzlement, so thank goodness the hip-hop generation picked up on them, even if it was decades later.  I will continue to maintain, however, with Cymande and all other obscure artists re-discovered by break-hungry DJ’s—look further than the samples.  There is untold wealth lying beneath the facile surface of your favorite drum-break.

Herbie Hancock: "Flood"

This is probably the record that’s been on my want-list the longest.  Long before I was digging deep into the back catalogues of offshoot soul labels and regional diasporas, this was still on my radar, with Herbie being one of my early gateway musicians into the ever-expanding world of jazz-funk.  This double LP features the Headhunters live and in their prime, classic line-up intact, with Herbie on keys and synths, Bennie Maupin on sax, Bill Summers on percussion, Paul Jackson on bass, Mike Clarke on drums, and newer addition Blackbird McKnight on guitar.  Many of the well-known tunes from the Headhunters’ studio albums of the era get a complete revamp here, like in “Actual Proof,” where Herbie plays acoustic piano instead of Fender Rhodes, or in “Chameleon,” where the synth solo from the studio version becomes completely negated in the wake of Herbie’s live take on the tune, which features not so much a synth solo as it does a synth meltdown, a barrage of futuristic fireworks from inside the mind of a computer as fused with the mad genius of a jazz musician.  The band is incendiary throughout the set, though Blackbird McKnight’s contributions are more tentative than they would be on future Headhunters efforts and in his subsequent work with Funkadelic.  The rhythm section of Mike Clarke and Paul Jackson is one of the most telepathic ever recorded to tape, with their interlocking lines and grooves only able to be explained by the phenomenon of extrasensory perception.  For anyone that has ever fancied themselves even a casual collector and/or fan of ‘70’s jazz-funk-fusion, this album is an essential listen.

Edwin Birdsong: "Edwin Birdsong"

I love Edwin Birdsong’s music.  He’s such an odd cat, yet there is something very intriguing about his offbeat, idiosyncratic solo efforts.  This self-titled release on the Philly International label is more streamlined and club-oriented than his earlier funk-rock experiments for Polydor, but the funny thing is, even when Birdsong is attempting a more mainstream sound, he can’t quite swing it, so innately quirky is his own muse.  “Cola-Bottle Baby” and “Phiss-Phizz” blend into each other, and while the disco pulse beneath both tracks is unmistakable, the acid guitar shredding by Ronald “Head” Drayton atop the groove has no peer in the disco world.  It’s some sort of unwieldy fusion of dance-thud and psychedelic metal, and only Birdsong could make it work.  Other tracks have a mellower feel to them, especially the spacy “Lollipop (Slow).”  Like all of Birdsong’s albums, there really is no context in which this music belongs, which is what makes it all so wonderful.

Rodriguez: "Cold Fact"

Oh WOW!!  OG pressings of this record are rare as hen’s teeth in the states, when I found this for a measly $10 at one of my favorite Portland record stores I practically tripped over myself in bringing it to the counter for purchase.  I’d heard all the hype about Rodriguez when his two Sussex LP’s were reissued by Light In The Attic a few years back, but at that time I had other vinyl obsessions on my mind and was fairly oblivious to the luminous qualities of this cat’s unique brand of folk-rock.  Everything here is incredible, although “Sugar Man” and “Only Good For Conversation” are certainly the standout tracks, a fact not lost on modern progressive radio stations who played these tunes to death when the reissues first came out.  Rodriguez has a cynical, bitter bent to his writing that sets him apart from his wide-eyed, idealistic contemporaries in the folk-rock movement of the early ‘70’s, with Dennis Coffey’s distorted guitar and production skills proving the perfect foil for the bile lurking beneath the surface of the lyrics.  It really is no surprise that this album came out of Detroit, as the specific, pointed kind of grittiness found here is stock-in-trade for the Motor City sound.  This LP deserves a treasured place right next to your Stooges and Funkadelic records, more subtle perhaps than those bands but still completely comfortable in their company.