Best Of 2013.

2013 was not only one of the most exceptional years for new music in recent memory, it also managed to be one of the most incredible and transformative years in my own adult life.  So much went down…a band came together; a band fell apart.  False friends showed their transparency and desperation; true friends were truer than ever before.  Dolly got a new job; I started teaching again…both of us finally finding the accolades and potential for upward mobility that we’d been working towards for such a long time.  I left behind the set of tunes I’d written for one band; I wrote and recorded a whole new album’s worth of material for another band a month later.  I started gardening; I found peace and meditation in the soil, in the earth, in my heart.  I went walking by myself every day in my neighborhood; I went hiking with family in my old stomping grounds, in the Colorado Rockies.  I mourned and cried and loved and laughed—as one always does simply because that’s the way it is—but it has been years since I’ve been able to look back upon the last twelve months at the end of their cycle, and feel so incredibly fulfilled.  Here’s a brief snapshot of what spoke to me musically during this wonderfully complex 365 days, stuff that I bumped on stereos from the Olympic Peninsula to the Continental Divide to right here at home, in Southwest Washington.  Love to all y’all out there…hope the end of 2013 finds you well, let’s keep it moving in 2014!

1.  Janelle Monae—“Electric Lady.”  Monae moves more directly into modern R&B with this release, but keeps in place her penchant for experimentalism and intricate lyrics, while guest stars like Erykah Badu, Miguel and Prince (!) liven up the mix with their own unique talents.  Certainly the record that I was awaiting most eagerly this year, and it did not disappoint.

2.  Elvis Costello & The Roots—“Wise Up Ghost.”  Bringing together the very best of what both artists do individually, this collaborative album works surprisingly well, with Costello’s dense, intellectual lyrics the perfect foil for The Roots’ expert, edgy musicianship.  There’s a sinister and smooth undertone to the sound they create together, and it’s fantastic.

3.  Los Amigos Invisibles—“Repeat After Me.”  The now-veteran disco-funk combo from Venezuela returns with another gem of a record, ranging in sound from Motown shuffles to Latin-funk-fusion to disco-funk-psychedelia.  Guitarist Jose Luis Pardo produces, and his instincts help the group to create what may very well be their best album yet.

4.  Jose James—“No Beginning No End.”  This album is so damn sexy it’ll make any couple lock up their doors and turn down the lights the minute it’s on the stereo.  Jose James’ voice is pure silk, while his grooves reinvent the whole jazzy neo-soul vibe, adding new elements to what had become a somewhat overplayed sound.  Subtle brilliance.

5.  Coultrain—“Jungle Mumbo Jumbo.”  Surreal, modern psychedelic soul from Coultrain, the mastermind behind The Hawthorne Headhunters.  Coultrain deals here in heavily spaced-out textures and tones, while his careening, caressing voice adds precise, soulful detail to each track.  A trip worth taking.

6.  Hiatus Kaiyote—“Tawk Tomahawk.”  One of the more interesting soul-based records I’ve heard in a while, from Australia’s Hiatus Kaiyote.  Somewhere in between Stepney’s Rotary Connection and D’Angelo, this group has a curious chemistry that somehow sounds retro and new all at the same time.

7.  Bilal—“A Love Surreal.”  Bilal pulls back on some of the more scattershot impulses of his previous “Airtight’s Revenge” to create a leaner, more focused variation on “Revenge’s” visionary expansiveness.  Bilal’s voice is still the greatest weapon in his musical arsenal, one of the most versatile vocal styles in all current music.  Mandatory listening.

8.  Charles Bradley—“Victim Of Love.”  Vintage retro-soul from NYC’s Daptone/Desco crew, fronted by long-time soul-singing pro Charles Bradley.  Bradley’s scratchy vocals ride atop the ‘60’s/’70’s-styled grooves in a beautiful, understated way that guarantees this record instant classic status.  Past and present merge; all that’s left is undiluted soul.

9.  Omar—“The Man.”  Omar is definitely the man.  This British soul artist has been making music for twenty years now, yet he remains woefully underrated, and if there’s any justice in the world, the fierce, heavy jazz-funk-latin-fusion of “The Man” will finally give him the exposure he deserves.  Don’t sleep on this—one of 2013’s least heard but best soul albums.

10.  Kendra Morris—“Mockingbird.”  I confess.  I am in love with this album and, by proxy, with Kendra Morris.  She takes what could be just another tired set of covers and makes songs heard ten thousand times sound completely rejuvenated, with her powerful vocals positively dominating each cut.  Maybe my favorite record this year.

11.  Black Milk—“No Poison No Paradise.”  For my money, this is the best thing producer/rapper Black Milk has done up to this point, and everything he’s done has been good.  Deeply soulful beat-craft that defies expectations by laying meaningful, heady lyrics amidst the already rich, hard-hitting soundscapes Black Milk is so adept at putting together.

12.  Daft Punk—“Random Access Memories.”  The most mainstream pop entry you’ll find on my year-end list, but I can’t front, this album is the biz.  From the ubiquitous radio smash “Get Lucky” to more interesting, less-played deep cuts like “Giorgio By Moroder” and “Lose Yourself To Dance,” this record is awesome, AND Nile Rogers plays guitar on it!

13.  William Onyeabor—“Who Is William Onyeabor?”  Dazzling, percussive, futuristic, funky electro from Nigeria’s William Onyeabor.  This music was all made in the late ‘70’s/early ‘80’s, but it stands apart from its time, as its singular combination of synths, drum machines and more traditional African musical elements is a whole separate genre unto itself.  Check it.

14.  Sly & The Family Stone—“Higher.”  This lavish, four-disc boxed set is a must for Sly fans, and offers rare and previously unreleased treasures among the many Sly classics that make up the bulk of the material.  One of the twentieth century’s most forward-thinking and influential artists, Sly gets the due he deserves with this career-spanning collection.

15.  Donny Hathaway—“Never My Love.”  A four-disc set devoted to Donny also.  The unreleased material here isn’t the greatest—Donny’s daughter Lalah has come forward saying as much, and I can see why she felt that stuff shouldn’t have been put out—but everything else here is crucial, and the full disc of alternate takes from the “Live!” sessions is stunning.

16.  Various Artists—“Purple Snow:  Forecasting The Minneapolis Sound.”  OK, so I’m cheating a bit with this last one—I have it but haven’t listened to it yet.  However, c’mon now…two discs of pre-Prince-breakthrough funk and soul grooves from Minneapolis circa the 1970’s?  You know this is gonna be amazing.

American Gypsy: "American Gypsy"

Weird psych-soul on the Cadet label.  American Gypsy was a group of ex-pats from the States, and they recorded this album in Holland in 1975.  There’s an interesting mix of styles at work on this LP, from the Gil Scott-Heron/Bill Withers-fashioned vocals of “Inside Out” and “Lady Eleanor” to the more spacy soul meditations of “10,000 Miles” and “Sweet Angel Eyes.”  As a band, American Gypsy reveals itself to be very versatile, as comfortable with heavy psych-rock as they are with clavinet-soaked funk, and they even dabble in ‘70’s prog rock a la Yes or ELP from time to time.  There’s little that one could criticize about this record musically; however, it leaves something to be desired thematically, as the relentless genre-bending makes for a less than coherent listen.  It’s as though they want to show all they know within this one record, and while creatively that may be an impressive goal, in the end it disrupts the focus and momentum, as the endless juxtapositions become more and more jarring with each song.  Still, anyone interested in multi-genre psych-funk exercises will want to investigate this, as it is, if nothing else, unique, and at the particular moments where the style combinations strike the right balance, it’s exhilarating.

Steve Grossman: "Some Shapes To Come"

Moody underground jazz from a group of musicians that would eventually form the band Stone Alliance, led here by saxophonist Steve Grossman.  This is a very cerebral record; Grossman was an alumni of Miles Davis’ electric-era incarnations, and the Miles influence is heavy, especially on tracks like “WBAI,” “Haresah” and “The Sixth Sense.”  Grossman has an expansive, wild tone to his sax playing that is a mix of John Coltrane and Joe Henderson, incorporating both the fearlessness of the former and the lyricism of the latter, while the musicians that back him on this set are all legends in their own right—Jan Hammer on keys and synths, Gene Perla on bass, Don Alias on drums and percussion.  The small quartet format of the unit prevents some of the more over-wrought leanings of the fusion sound from rearing their head, and instead these guys simmer menacingly and with purpose.  What makes this album stand out from the seemingly infinite amount of mid-‘70’s fusion releases is the bottom-heavy funk groove that underpins the best tracks, heard to greatest effect on the aptly titled break-beat favorite “Zulu Stomp.”  To be sure, this is heady stuff, and if fusion jazz isn’t your thing you may not be feeling this, but I personally love the searing, surrealistic soundscape that Grossman and company develop.  Inventive and intense.

Tom Brock: "I Love You More And More"

Man!  So difficult to find an OG press of this one anymore, I got super-lucky and found a lovely copy for far less than it usually sells for.  The question is, as per usual with rare records, does the rarity surpass the quality?  In this case, not at all.  This is a gorgeous, lush, ‘70’s soul masterpiece, produced by Brock’s friend and collaborator Barry White, although I like this more than a lot of White’s solo material from the same period.  It’s not nearly as over-the-top as Barry’s stuff could be, some of which verged on self-parody at its worst.  Instead, Tom Brock hits just the right balance between White’s ‘70’s cinematic funk romanticism and his own mellower tendencies, crafting the kind of funk-soul record that you just want to swim in, so sublimely groovy and layered is its foundation.  My favorite songs are the bouncy, hard-hitting title track, the smooth “Have A Nice Weekend Baby,” the confessional “Naked As The Day I Was Born,” and the optimistic, album-closing “If We Don’t Make It, Nobody Can.”  Do yourself a favor and search this one out, it has a staying power and accessibility that many other rare soul burners of its ilk can’t even come close to matching.

Hambone: "Big Fat Juicy Fun"

Big fat juicy fun indeed.  This was a “blind find” for me, as I had no idea what to expect when I picked it up.  It met my usual criteria for such purchases:  I’d never seen it for sale before, the release date and label (1981 and Salsoul, respectively) were on point, and it had an awesome cover (a woman stretched luxuriously across a bed, scantily clad, and sucking a lollipop, with stuffed animals all around her…umm…?).  I’m guessing Hambone must be a nickname for the session’s harmonica player (Fred Bluestone, an alias perhaps?), ‘cause there’s harmonica all over this record.  It doesn’t always work with the music, but for the most part it makes for an interesting and very different sort of listening experience, sometimes sounding like bluesy funk, other times sounding like Stevie Wonder’s discarded ‘70’s instrumentals.  The tracks are slamming, a mix of heavy boogie (“Hey Music Man,” “Hambone”) and laid-back, clavinet-laden modern soul (“Feelings,” “Win Or Lose,” “This Masquerade”).  In addition to all its other rather attractive era pedigrees, this LP has the bonus of having been produced by Tommy Stewart, who also manned the boards for the Spirit Of Atlanta album (see earlier post).  “Big Fat Juicy Fun” shows his same musical trademarks present but evolved to match the early ‘80’s milieu, deeply focused on that clubby, bubbling Atlanta disco-funk sound that he did so well.  On the whole, this is a goofy and entertaining funk session that I would recommend without reservation.

5 Stairsteps & Cubie: "Love's Happening"

Beautiful windy city soul by this young singing group, who would hit it big a couple of years later with the song “O-o-h Child.”  Curtis Mayfield produced this LP, and the same sound that he was crafting for the later Impressions material is in full effect here, including a redone version of the title track, which first appeared on the Impressions’ “This Is My Country.”  The 5 Stairsteps, led by their father Clarence Burke, Sr., aren’t the seasoned singers that the Impressions were—their ages ranging from 3 (that’s Cubie!) to 18—but they make up for it with raw, youthful enthusiasm and passion.  Mayfield also contributes some peculiar production touches, especially on the cover of “Love’s Happening,” which begins and ends with some trippy early synth effects.  Other gems are the strolling “Don’t Change Your Love” (with break-beat intro), the swinging “Stay Close To Me,” and the lovely, elevating “I’m The One Who Loves You.”  Every track on this LP, actually, is quality.  Further evidence not only of the genius of Curtis Mayfield (as if any further evidence was necessary), but also that the amount of explosive talent emerging from the late ‘60’s/early ‘70’s Chicago soul scene was endlessly vast.

Harold Mabern: "Greasy Kid Stuff!"

Yes!  My first OG Harold Mabern LP—long on my want list of Prestige label releases, but for whatever reason I never ran across any of his stuff until just recently.  I first became aware of pianist Harold Mabern through his work on numerous jazz and soul-jazz sessions from the late ‘60’s, and was always intrigued by the melodic, expressive flavor he brought to his playing.  Here he has an opportunity to let that flavor shine more brightly than ever before, and the sidemen he uses on this date are equally impressive—Lee Morgan, Idris Muhammad, Buster Williams, Hubert Laws, “Boogaloo” Joe Jones.  Morgan and Laws, in particular, are a horn section to be reckoned with, and Laws, mostly known for his skills as a flautist, takes off with some exemplary tenor sax playing throughout.  There’s a mix of styles that Mabern tackles, as was usually the case with Prestige LP’s from this time (1970), including the bumping soul-jazz-funk of the title track, the exquisite, shimmering ballad “I Haven’t Got Anything Better To Do,” and a seriously groovy rendition of the J5’s “I Want You Back,” which has a wonderfully bop-laced, lackadaisical trumpet solo by Lee Morgan.  Lazy morning jazz at its finest, cup of coffee in hand and troubles evaporating like so much condensation.

Sins Of Satan: "Thou Shalt Boogie Forever"

Oh, shalt we?  Doesn’t seem like such a terribly hellish proposition, and if this band is the soundtrack, said boogie will certainly be exceptional.  This is an odd, sublime piece of psychedelic disco-soul, with Ernie Isley-copping, distortion-plus-phase guitar solos, melodic chord progressions, and lavish, lascivious vocals.  No shock that this was recorded at Detroit’s United Sound studios—home to more classic recording sessions than there is room to mention here—and that storied locale’s beautiful sonic fingerprints are everywhere on “Boogie,” accenting the dope percussion breaks and jazz-meets-P-Funk vibe nicely.  My favorite tracks are the jazzy “Devils Disco,” the rhodes-and-guitar-soaked “How Would You Feel,” and the strutting-but-smooth “Rope-A-Dope.”  It’s a bit of a shame that this group decided to go with what was, in their time, a rather controversial band name and concept, as I’m sure it prevented them from whatever larger musical success they could have achieved.  This is a sleeper of a soul record, and not one you see in its original pressing often.  Don’t pass on it if you find one.

Simtec & Wylie: "Gettin' Over The Hump"

The kind of record I live for, dazed psychedelic funk-soul of the highest order, shaded in with fuzz guitars, breaks and the tandem Sam & Dave-influenced vocals of Simtec & Wylie.  Though this album was recorded in Chicago, it has more of a Southern soul sound to it, which I’m sure is at least partially due to the duo’s obvious hero worship of Sam & Dave.  The difference with Simtec & Wylie, however, is the wild lyrics—most evident on the tracks “Bootleggin’,” “Gotta Get Over The Hump” and “Put Up Or Shut Up”—a sort of lysergic, stream-of-consciousness soul vibe that has to be heard to be believed.  There’s also an odd, surprisingly heartfelt cover of Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May,” the fast paced distortion-plus-horns crackle of “Sold On You,” and the cautionary psych-gospel-soul of “You Just Can’t Win.”  While sometimes I feel that I might be talking about Chicago soul TOO often (clearly and as I’ve mentioned before, it’s a region and sound that I favor), how can I not when I continue to stumble across LP’s like this?  They’re too outstanding to ignore, and many, like this Simtec & Wylie effort, are undeservedly obscure.  Bringin’ that old-school psych-soul beat back is my mission, can’t stop won’t stop.

The Fabulous Counts: "Jan Jan"

Wow.  Didn’t think I’d ever find an OG copy of this, and for $5???  That’s an unbelievable price for this piece of jazz-funk-soul history.  I’ve read a few reviews of this LP that said it sounded too much like The Fabulous Counts were trying to imitate The Meters, but I don’t hear that at all.  The key difference is bandleader and primary songwriter Mose Davis, who plays stuff on the organ that Art Neville could never do; Davis sounds more like Jack McDuff than he does Booker T. Jones, and is audibly more studied in jazz than Neville.  The other difference is the grooves themselves; The Fabulous Counts have a firmly uptempo, tightened Detroit sensibility to their funk, and are pretty far from the stuttering, second-line pocket that The Meters concocted.  Taken on its own terms, this is such a fantastic record, reinforced with a handful of proto-jazz-funk covers of late ‘60’s standards, including “It’s A Man’s Man’s World,” “Hey Jude,” “Soulful Strut” and “Who’s Making Love.”  Then there are the originals, which are the true treasures of the set, among them the landmark title track (later covered by Grant Green), the spaced-organ-jazz of “The Bite,” the churning, driving “Dirty Red,” the exploratory modal funk of “The Other Thing,” and the exquisite, hallucinatory, break-heavy “Girl From Kenya.”  Two years after this LP, in 1971, The Fabulous Counts would rename themselves simply The Counts, and release the swirling funk psychedelia of “What’s Up Front That Counts.”  Yet with “Jan Jan,” they laid the foundation not just for their own future efforts, but for many other instrumental jazz and funk combos still searching for a sound to latch onto.  “Jan Jan” is a straight-up blueprint record, a strand of soul DNA that demands re-examination.

Mongo Santamaria: "Fuego"

While Mongo Santamaria is well-known for his contributions to Latin jazz and salsa, I would argue that his ‘70’s tenure as a funk pioneer is sorely overlooked, and even outright ignored.  Mongo made some of the best funk records I’ve ever heard—and you know I’ve heard more than a few—with “Fuego” being no exception.  The opener, “Crazy Lady,” is a dance-floor stunner, with what I think might be an uncredited vibes solo by Roy Ayers…no mention of vibes in the credits, but bassist William Allen is on this album, and he was an associate of Ayers at this time, so…?  The rest of the material ranges from equally funky (“Don’t Step On My Tears,” “Fingers”), to Latin-jazz-textured (“Springtime,” “Last Tango In Paris”), to Afro-Cuban (“Besame,” “Chambique,” “Malcolm X”).  The band is on fire throughout this LP, and the great, signature trend of having both Mongo’s congas and the drum-kit WAY up in the mix means that, if you have the bass on your stereo up, you may well end up with some blown speakers, to say nothing of your mind.  Next-level and without parallel.

Roy Ayers Ubiquity: "He's Coming"

One of the headiest, edgiest, funkiest LP’s in existence.  I really couldn’t believe my luck when I found an OG copy of this one for as cheap as I did ($12!), and since that purchase I can’t stop listening to it, though I’d heard it before I found the original and owned a reissue of it for years.  I’m not sure how I can add to the well-embedded discourse that’s already occurred regarding this record; it’s a classic, straight-up, but an underground classic.  Its hazy, thick, pre-hip-hop textures are the stuff of dreams; this is an album to get lost in.  Most famous is the track “We Live In Brooklyn Baby,” sampled infinitely by producers throughout the known universe and beyond, but there is so much more to “He’s Coming” than that one song.  There’s the laconic, revolutionary meditation “Ain’t Got Time” (one of Ayers’ most political grooves), the buoyant, percussive title track, the heavy jazz-funk of “Fire Weaver” (which Ayers also recorded with David “Fathead” Newman for Newman’s “Lonely Avenue” LP).  The sidemen chosen for this project are a crucial piece of the whole too; major names like Billy Cobham, Ron Carter and Sonny Fortune are all present, along with keyboardist Harry Whitaker, who, more than a sideman, was essentially Roy Ayers’ co-writer at this point, and a HUGE part of the sound of the early Ubiquity records.  This album was perhaps Ayers’ first fully realized funk opus, for while he had already ventured well into the funk-fusion genre by the time he released “He’s Coming,” he hadn’t quite had the moment where all his ambitions and stylistic blending had yet locked into place.  “He’s Coming” IS that moment, a record with such a wide-ranging and continued influence that its ripple effect is still being felt well into the 21^st century.

Father's Children: "Father's Children"

I first became aware of D.C. soul outfit Father’s Children through the archive release of their “Who’s Gonna Save The World” LP on the Numero label, music never issued when it was made in the early ‘70’s.  The “World” album was incredible, and so I knew I had to seek out the group’s self-titled LP from 1979, though I understood the sound of the band would be very different at that point, both because soul trends had changed drastically by the late ‘70’s and also because Wayne “Big Daddy” Henderson of The Crusaders produced the effort.  Henderson’s smooth behind-the-board touches are everywhere, but they actually fit quite well with the musical and vocal style of Father’s Children, both of which are inherently complex and layered.  There’s not a bad track here—there are P-Funk-flavored numbers (“Shine On,” “Dance Do It”), modern soul floor-fillers (“Hollywood Dreaming,” “Wild Woman”), and even jazz-fusion-tinged workouts (“Music Use It,” “You Can Get It”).  While it’s nowhere near as raw and edgy as their earlier “Who’s Gonna Save The World,” this “Father’s Children” LP on Mercury has its own sort of attraction, and the warmth of Henderson’s production allows the group’s evocative, unique sound to come through more clearly than ever.  Be on the lookout for this record, especially if you’re a boogie fan.

The Meters: "Look-Ka Py Py"

Well well well.  My first OG Meters LP from their years on the Josie label, so hen’s-teeth rare that I just about chicken-strutted my way out of that record store when I found it.  This is one of those albums that has been discovered, re-discovered and discovered again by generation upon generation of groove-seekers.  Quite simply, The Meters laid down the groundwork for nearly every instrumental funk outfit that was to follow, and while there were other bands carving out this territory—Booker T. & The MG’s, early Bar-Kay’s, the JB’s, early Kool & The Gang, The Nite-Liters—these four guys from New Orleans were always unique, and unlike all of the aforementioned groups, their economy had as much to do with that as anything else.  No big horn sections, no large arrangements, no falling in lockstep with the common idea of their time that, to be a funk band, you had to have at least nine or ten pieces—no, this was just organ, bass, guitar and drums, and it is still almost inconceivable how much sound they got out of such a tiny combo.  Another musical aspect that set them firmly apart from many of their peers is their distinctly NOLA rhythmic approach; this sort of loose, loping, shuffling beat that was slower than a great deal of the other funk music of the era, yet still burned with a relentless heat and intensity all its own.  As far as the songs themselves on this LP go, what even needs to be said?  Classics all, standouts being the title track, “Pungee,” “Yeah You’re Right,” “Funky Miracle,” “Dry Spell.”  Plainly stated, this is one of the best and most essential slabs of instrumental funk wax you’re likely to find, so cop it!

September 2013: Soul Pulls.

I’m getting to that point with records where, more often than not, if I’m in a record store, I flip through most of the stacks in a state of half-boredom, more obligated to look because it’s become habit, the archaeological grandeur of it all a distant memory from my early digging days.  These last few months, though, have been different…I chanced to stumble upon a few rare stashes, in various locations, that renewed my faith in the whole esoteric, dusty business of vinyl hunting, and during one of the best, most rejuvenating summers of my life thus far, no less.  Finding not just one or two good LP’s but whole stacks of nothing but heat, the kind of records that make you want to pick up the phone on the spot, call all your other vinyl junkie friends and say “YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND!!!!”  They wouldn’t.  You might not either.  But trust, I tell no lies.  Dancefloor-thumping, sweet-soul aching, jazz-chops rocking, funk-pocket grooving vinyl to be found below…

Parliament: "Osmium"

Still quite possibly the weirdest, wildest Parliafunkadelicment trip of them all.  My eyes nearly bulged out of my sockets when I came across an OG pressing of this a couple months back, complete with the lyric sleeve insert intact.  I’m sure this LP went absolutely nowhere when it was first released on Invictus, as it is the very antithesis of commercial, and in fact has the potential to alienate even the most diehard and open-minded P-Funk fan.  George Clinton was really testing the waters and seeing what he could get away with on this record, from the faux-country of “My Automobile” and “Little Ole Country Boy” to the harpsichord-drenched hymn of “Oh Lord, Why Lord/Prayer” to the bagpipe breaks on “The Silent Boatman.”  The acidic sound of early Funkadelic is definitely present, especially in Eddie Hazel’s manic guitar leads, but it is set atop strange textures and grooves, like the psycho-billy of “Nothing Before Me But Thang” and the crazy-person rave-up of “I Call My Baby Pussycat.”  There are even songs that sound half-finished, such as “Put Love In Your Life” and “Funky Woman,” where it seems as though no-one ever bothered to go back and do any post-production editing, and rather just put the music out as it was, warts and all.  This scattershot, even bizarre, aesthetic is what endears the album to me, though, and it stands its own lonesome ground even in the P-Funk catalogue, which is pretty unique to begin with.

The Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band: "Together"

In my opinion, this is maybe the greatest encapsulation of what made the Watts 103^rd Street Rhythm Band such a special, influential unit in the annals of funk history.  It’s possible they made better records, but they never sounded tighter.  With Charles Wright’s stoned, JB-meets-Otis vocals up front, and major musical figures like guitarist Al McKay and drummer James Gadson paying their early dues in the band, the groove fires on all cylinders, from start to finish.  Part of the album is live and part of it is studio, so there’s a variety of material here, from covers of then-current soul staples like “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag” and “Knock On Wood” to innovative early funk workouts like “Phuncky Bill” and “Giggin’ Down 103^rd.”  My favorite cuts are the slamming “65 Bars And A Taste Of Soul” and the dynamic, massively grooving, improvised-on-stage “Do Your Thing,” one of the rawest, greasiest funk tracks of all time.  When this LP was recorded, the group was playing 7-night stands at various clubs in L.A., and their completely locked-in sound is blistering, blissful evidence of that time spent woodshedding together.  A stone soul groove if ever there was one.

Sam Dees: "The Show Must Go On"

$10 sealed OG copy on ebay?  Yes please, can I have two?  This is a masterful slab of deep, spacy soul, and the tone is set immediately with the opening “Child Of The Streets,” which sounds like a more despairing take on “What’s Going On”-era Marvin, with Sam Dees’ eerie vocals being run through a delay effect, collapsing into the entropy of the funky yet foreboding music.  This is heavy stuff; it’s Marvin Gaye or Curtis Mayfield on a dead-end street, devoid of their usual uplifting, affirming optimism.  Dees works several different creative angles on the rest of the LP, from the searing, screaming “Claim Jumpin’” to the mellow Southern soul of the title track to the almost modern soul-sounding “Come Back Strong,” and he even continues the tale he began with “Child Of The Streets” on the B-Side opener “Troubled Child,” making this a concept album of sorts, and one that hangs together well.  Sam Dees spent most of the ‘70’s writing songs for other artists, so this record serves as a different representation of his gifts, showcasing the talent he brought to the table as a singer/songwriter/producer/performer in his own right.  I’d go so far as to put this LP in the “lost classic” category, it’s that good.

Rene & Angela: "Wall To Wall"

Man, Rene & Angela are rocking some wicked sweet Moog synths on the back cover of this album.  Smooth, modern boogie grooves dominate, with very few pauses in the action, sidestepping the then-common R&B format of funk-funk-ballad-funk track order.  Angela Winbush’s powerful vocals, along with the duo’s flawless harmonies, make this stand out from the pack of similar projects being released in the early ‘80’s, and the strong songwriting takes the whole thing to the next level.  The title track is a fantastic dancefloor call-to-arms, paving the way for a slew of other sweat-soaked boogie funk cuts, like “Good Friends” and “I Love You More.”  Then there’s the slow-but-slinky funk of “Secret Rendezvous” and “Wanna Be Close To You,” the latter of which borrows the bass-line from Lakeside’s “Something About That Woman” (or is it the other way around?), and uses it to great effect, getting at something much more seductive, more paranoid, more pleading, and in the end more desperate.  The album closes with a pair of dreamy soul ballads that send the music off in fine style, particularly on “Come My Way,” where the twin lead vocals dance around each other like two shy singles at a club.  Rene & Angela themselves, in terms of influence and fame, seem to be something of a forgotten group, which is too bad, ‘cause this LP is hot.

The Younghearts: "Do You Have The Time"

One of my favorite pickups of the last few months.  This record BUMPS.  The two-part title track is my new go-to funk-soul anthem, and everything else here gets the job done nicely, too.  The Younghearts, as a musical unit, had been performing and recording since the late ‘60’s, but this LP has its own sound; it could almost be called early modern soul, before disco and legions of synths forever made their mark, although the group does manage to retain certain elements of earlier soul dynamics, especially on tracks like “Stop What You’re Doing, Girl” and the bouncy, Motown-meets-PIR shuffle of “All The Love In The World.”  They also bring the funky soul goods when necessary, on the gospel-inflected “Don’t Crush My World” (awesome drums-and-vocals break at the beginning), the slow-strutting “Wildfire,” and the street-swagger, prog-funk grooving “Look What Your Love Has Done For Me.”  Vernon Bullock appears to be the behind-the-scenes orchestrator of the LP, as his name can be found in the credits as the chief and/or co-writer of every tune, in addition to his being listed as keyboard player, producer, and arranger.  While Bullock was not an official member of the group, clearly they benefited from his ubiquity on this album, as he lends their music strength and cohesiveness that move beyond whatever “sweet soul” tags might apply.

Raw Soul Express: "Raw Soul Express"

More like Rare Soul Express.  Couldn’t believe I found this in the original, and rarity aside, the music did NOT disappoint.  Beginning with a massive break on opener “R.S.E.,” this LP and group are something else—clavinet-crazed jazz-funk a la The Crusaders or Wood Brass & Steel, layered in thick swaths of pocket-driven, bass-heavy production from George “Chocolate” Perry.  That being said, jazz-funk is only one part of their equation; the lead vocals from Rickey Washington (who also plays flute and bari sax here) are skilled and nuanced enough to match the complex, multi-tiered grooves.  You can hear this synchronicity on the acoustic guitar-led “Emergency,” and on the horn-driven, sanctified “It’s In You.”  I think one of the things that surprised me the most about this LP is how immaculate it sounds; small-label efforts like this don’t usually tend to be graced with such smooth, well-produced potency.  It’s a pretty flawless effort, I gotta say, and if there’s any downside—and it’s not much of one—it’s in the fact that the band can’t seem to make up its mind on whether or not it wants to be EWF or The Blackbyrds.  I dig the dichotomy myself, and it makes for dense, intriguing listening if you’re into esoteric funk.

Johnny Hammond: "Gambler's Life"

Though it’ll never be as well-known as “Gears”—Johnny “Hammond” Smith’s other Mizell Brothers-produced masterpiece—“Gambler’s Life” does its own thing, and has a slightly more underground, late-night-smoke-and-mirrors feel, which I love.  Fonce and Larry Mizell exhibit more experimental tendencies on this LP than usual, like on the cut “Rhodesian  Thoroughfare,” which moves from heavy jazz-fusion to the Mizells’ trademark light jazz funk to wild synth excursions from Hammond.  It feels as though the Mizell-Hammond-Mizell team wasn’t necessarily aiming for a huge hit in the way that they did with the subsequent “Gears,” and so they take more risks; there’s the studio-chatter-intro, stop-start funk stutter of the title cut, the smooth-jazz-into-odd-time-fusion of “This Year’s Dream,” the NOLA-meets-“Manchild”-era-Herbie of “Yesterday Was Cool,” the funk-to-hard-bop-and-back-again “Virgo Lady.”  Mizell funk throw-downs are plentiful as well, my favorites being “Star Borne” and “Back To The Projects.”  Of special mention on this album is the drumming of Harvey Mason, whose samba-funk-fusion style always elevates whatever given session he appears on; and then of course there’s Johnny Hammond himself, whose willingness to dive headfirst into the funk milieu despite his being of the soul-jazz old guard is not only refreshing but mind-blowing.  The Mizells and Hammond hit pay-dirt a year later, and “Gears” deservedly went down in history as a jazz-club-fusion landmark, but “Gambler’s Life” is worthy of re-examination and re-evaluation, for all the moving parts that made “Gears” so successful are here also, and shown in a starker, more uncompromising light.  Track this down.

Smoked Sugar: "Smoked Sugar"

I’m guessing these guys were seriously into cooking and baking, that’s the only reason they’d name themselves “Smoked Sugar,” right?  Right?  Anyhow, unhh!  Mid-‘70’s vocal soul with a gritty funk edge, produced and performed by a bunch of unknowns—Hadley Murrell, Oliver Williams, James Conwell—names I’ve never seen before, and I’m obsessive about reading liner notes and credits.  There’s a bit of a psychedelic hue to the group’s heavier material, which can be found on cuts like “I’ve Found Someone Of My Own,” “Bump Me” and “It’s Funny Til I Start Crying.”  Sweet falsettos and aching vocal leads factor in, too, on slow-grind tracks like “My Eyes Search A Lonely Room For You” and “Don’t Let The Feeling Hit Me Again.”  This LP is a great example of how, during this time period (1975), there were SO many groups attempting to break through to the mainstream with a funk-soul style, and that in the overwhelming flood of contributors, musicians and producers, talented acts like Smoked Sugar were bound to get lost in the shuffle.  Reason enough to dig deep in those crates, folks.

Bobby Patterson: "It's Just A Matter Of Time"

Sparkling Southern soul on the Paula label.  This is a record you simply never see, and I found the one copy I’ve come across in Boulder, CO, of all places.  Bobby Patterson has a spectacular voice, influenced equally by the belters over at Stax and the uptown soul crooners from Chicago and Detroit, and in addition to his magnificent singing, he produced the whole LP himself, so the sound he creates is all his own.  “Make Sure You Can Handle It,” “Right On Jody,” “How Do You Spell Love” and “The Whole Funky World Is A Ghetto” deliver on the promise of their titles, with detailed soul arrangements and cascading vocals riding a churning, heady funk undercurrent.  Patterson also engages in mellow meditations like “I Get My Groove From You” and “She Don’t Have To See You (To See Through You),” and even throws in a nice exercise for the steppers, “Everything Good To You (Don’t Have To Be Good For You).”  Small label efforts like this are great because they’re very personal, I feel like you get slightly more truth from the artist about who it is they are and what it is they’re about, with none of the pressures, ego-tripping and expectations a more popular artist might face.  Right on Bobby.

Superior Movement: "Key To Your Heart"

Five guys with goofy expressions on their faces holding a giant key—that’s the image you see on the cover of the Superior Movement’s one and only album.  Most of their music is fairly down-tempo for a boogie record, but the couple prime floor-filler cuts they lay down more than make up for the disparity, and really, the slower tracks aren’t bad either.  DJ’s and dance aficionados will be most interested in “Wide Shot” and “Be My Cinderella,” both of which have an understated minimalism to them, echoing the aftershocks felt by Prince and Zapp’s new wave funk.  Scattered among the synth-bass stormers are kicked-back, silky R&B tracks that absolutely ooze with romantic ambiance, made palatable by warm production and the group’s swooning harmonies.  If you look closely at the credits, you’ll find the names of several Chicago music legends, like Tom Tom 84, Morris Jennings, Vincent Wilburn, Louis Satterfield, Don Myrick, etc., proving that the Windy City’s vibrant and idiosyncratic soul tradition had more than one golden age, and was going strong as late as 1982.

The New Birth: "The New Birth"

The record that started it all for Harvey Fuqua’s New Birth dynasty.  Merging multiple groups that he had been writing and producing for in various settings, including the relentlessly funky instrumental unit The Nite-Liters, Fuqua essentially created a sort of funky soul orchestra, albeit with different pieces than any traditional orchestra.  The unique and exhilarating New Birth formula is firmly in place on this first LP, with large vocal arrangements cozying up to lightly funky grooves from The Nite-Liters, creating a huge sound that’s not quite sweet soul, not quite heavy funk, not quite deep soul, but incorporates strands of each medium.  My favorite tunes are the joyous “UNH Song,” the righteous “Brand New Lover,” and the funk burner “Pretty Words Don’t Mean A Thing (Lie To Me).”  The group even tries their hand at a sizzling version of the Rufus Thomas classic “Do The Funky Chicken,” taken at breakneck speed while containing delectable saxophone breaks, a thumping, sample-worthy drum-break, and obligatory chicken sound effects.  Fuqua and The New Birth must have been over the moon at this new combination they’d developed, and sure enough, it wouldn’t be long until they cultivated their musical ethic into a chart-topping, million-selling, hit-making soul machine.

Irma Thomas: "In Between Tears"

Swamp Dogg (Jerry Williams, Jr.) in full effect, this time working with New Orleans soul royalty Irma Thomas.  Williams and Thomas make quite a team, with Thomas’s voice expertly conveying the inherent, sometimes even despondent, pain that was always such a major part of the Dogg’s material.  I’m sure Swamp brought some of that pain on himself; he’s using a female vocalist as his sounding board here, but his song titles reveal the truth of his situations—“She’ll Never Be Your Wife,” “What’s So Wrong With You Loving Me,” “You’re The Dog (I Do The Barking Myself).”  This LP is, in some ways, similar to another Swamp-produced gem I discussed in a previous post, Doris Duke’s “I’m A Loser,” although it generally has a happier, more uplifting energy than that heartbroken song cycle, despite the cynical names of the tunes themselves.  While I said earlier that Thomas knows how to sing pain, she also has a stronger voice than Doris Duke, and the confluence of that strength with a more upbeat set of songs from Swamp Dogg leads the listener to ponder that Irma Thomas will fare much better than Duke in the heartbreak category, and will come out okay in the end, despite her troubles.  Everything that is great about the “Tears” record can be found in the lovely title cut, in the unflinchingly honest “These Four Walls,” and in the epic, 12-plus-minutes “Medley:  Coming From Behind/Wish Someone Would Care,” where Thomas’s vocals have to be heard to be believed, singing, pleading and shouting with enough power to tear the heavens themselves apart.  Swamp Dogg and Irma Thomas crafted something special with this album; this is a re-discovery of dramatic and inspiring proportions.

L.T.G. Exchange: "Susie Heartbreaker"

An odd record, which on the cover describes itself as the score of a “black rock operetta,” although I’m not sure “Susie” and its pimped-out concept ever made it to any opera house.  The music is great, and comes through with a nice clean sound, which is at least partially due to the fact that the Exchange recorded this at Philadelphia’s storied Sigma Sound Studios.  The group’s vision is an interesting one, a blend of salsa, soul, funk and early disco that is quite intoxicating in its best moments.  Then there’s the aforementioned “operetta” aspect of the LP, which treads the usual “life is tough on the streets” theme familiar to many ‘70’s films and albums.  Key tracks are the title cut, the need-some-money strut “Stone Broke,” the Fania-meets-funk-fashioned “Dinero” and the highly acidic, sublimely tripped-out “Sky High.”  This is another wonderful, little-known musical treasure that floated just beneath the radar upon its initial distribution, now waiting for other generations to pick up on the stylized strangeness that is “Susie.”

The Fantastic Violinaires: "A Message To My Friends"

I first became aware of the Violinaires through their insanely funky classic “Groovin’ With Jesus,” something that caused me to immediately try and locate an OG copy of their identically titled Checker LP, which basically got me started on my whole gospel-funk sub-genre record obsession, a passion of mine that continues to this day.  This album finds the group five years on from their “Groovin’” days, yet their penchant for hard, unrelenting gospel-funk remains prominent, and, it being 1976, they incorporate some subtle modern soul touches into the mix.  The title track is a funk tour-de-force, starting out a bit deceptively with a major-key organ melody intro, but then quickly settling into an all-out slow-funk-gospel grind, with the lead singer (Robert Blair?) testifying himself hoarse above it all.  Wild.  Other high points are the eternally optimistic “Sunshine,” the lightly stepping “I Don’t Know What This World Is Coming To,” the ridiculously gritty, elevating, guitar-focused “He’s Alive.”  The soulful preaching The Violinaires emanate from the pulpit is enough to make a gospel-funk convert out of anybody.

The Imaginations: "The Imaginations"

Ethereal, deep-in-the-night soul at its finest.  The music is of an extremely high caliber, recorded at Chess studios in Chicago (but released on the 20^th Century label), and featuring a handful of Chicago soul notables, like Byron Gregory, Frederick Derf Walker and the ever-present Tom Tom 75 (AKA Tom Tom 84, AKA Tom Tom Washington).  The vocals by The Imaginations are exquisite, and their leads and harmonies explore a variety of topics and moods, from the political (“Talk About The World,” “Ballad Of Matheia”) to the romantic (“Because I Love You,” “God Bless You Love”) to the intensely personal (“There’s Another On Your Mind,” “Me, Myself And I,” “Searchin’”).  What I wouldn’t give to have spent ’68-’75 floating around the Chicago scene—when I hear an LP like this, it never fails to amaze me how seemingly infinite the amount of good music coming out of the city was at that time.  Better than the sheer quantity of it all, though, is the quality, and the experimental blend of instruments, songwriting and genres that fearlessly, ceaselessly created new artistic paradigms.

The J.B.'s: "Food For Thought"

Get ready for a flurry of JB posts, folks, ‘cause I’ve been on a non-stop, half-crazed JB kick for the last couple weeks, and it shows no signs of mellowing (although, James himself always said, “make it mellow!,” pronouncing it “mell-uhh!).  James Brown is kind of like Prince or P-Funk for me, in that I can be away from his music for long periods of time, but always, ALWAYS find myself coming back to it, and when I do come back, it’s all I listen to for months, sometimes whole seasons.  Of course, “Food For Thought” can’t solely be attributed to Brown, even if he wants to make sure you know he was all over it (actual album credits read, back to back, “James Brown—The Creator/Produced by James Brown/All songs arranged by James Brown…,” etc.).  No, this is the JB’s (Brown’s instrumental backing band), during the time-frame where they were primarily led by Fred Wesley, who helped to give them their distinctly jazz-informed, diamond-sharp-pocket funk sound.  As for the music, what can I really say?  You’ve heard most of these tracks before, either in the original versions or in the billion times they’ve been sampled in hip-hop.  All-time funk anthems are generously portioned throughout the LP; unforgettable, hugely impactful and influential cuts like “Pass The Peas,” “Gimme Some More,” “Hot Pants Road,” “The Grunt,” “Escape-ism.” So-called “deep tracks” are the real finds for the more embedded JB scholars, like the Latin-jazz-funk stomper “Blessed Blackness” or the hypnotic, trance-inducing “For My Brother.”  The record closes with the band’s ultimate statement of purpose, “These Are The J.B.’s,” and so when the needle hits the dead wax the listener has truly taken one of the most integral and essential funk journeys in existence, ‘cause, like Danny Ray said on the intro to their subsequent “Doing It To Death” album, “without no doubt…theeeeeese…are the J.B.’s!!!!!!!”

Sweet Charles: "For Sweet People From Sweet Charles"

Bona fide rare funk BOMB.  James Brown produced this ultra-difficult-to-find LP for his on-and-off bassist/band-leader “Sweet” Charles Sherrell, and it sounds like no other record on the JB-owned People label.  Often you wonder if you’re listening to a Curtis Mayfield album instead; Sherrell’s falsetto and uptown-soul-with-strings approach is about as far from James Brown’s raw funk jams as possible.  There are, however, moments with heavy drums and funk breaks, such as the radically rearranged take on the Hayes-Porter classic “Soul Man,” or the oft-sampled deep soul cut “Yes It’s You.”  Sweet Charles’ vocals glide lightly over the tracks, but are tough enough when the music calls for it.  This album has had hype surrounding its rarity for years, and I can definitely say it’s an important addition to the collection for the in-depth James Brown fan.

Sunbear: "Sunbear"

I looked for this record for a long time, and when I finally was able to add it to the collection it did not disappoint.  I suppose it falls under the somewhat loose tag of “modern soul,” but what sets it apart from a lot of the other LP’s in that genre is that it retains the feel of a small band session.  The disco/boogie/modern soul era was not a great one for capturing a live studio feel, but this album sits right in that sweet spot where the grooves have been updated but the production doesn’t overwhelm the listener, and doesn’t lose the strength and presence of the individual musicians and singers in the process.  My favorite track is the sublime, spacy “Let Love Flow For Peace,” but there are lots of great tunes throughout, including the heavy funk-fusion opener “Erika,” the Tower Of Power-esque “I Heard The Voice Of Music Say,” and the three-part, jazzy “Mood” bookending different sections of the album.  So, the music is incredible, and then as an added bonus, there’s a giant, blinged-out bear (“Sunbear,” get it?) on the cover, with angels, humans and centaurs worshipping, dancing, even copulating beneath it.  Basically the best LP cover ever, containing within it an unheralded set of musical genius.

The Stovall Sisters: "The Stovall Sisters"

Preach.  This LP is probably most sought after for the furious groove of “Hang On In There,” and it is certainly the edgiest, most driving thing on the record, the rest of which moves at a much slower pace.  The Stovall Sisters were most famous for being the background singers on Norman Greenbaum’s hit “Spirit In The Sky,” which they cover here in a more churchy, less psychedelic style.  The liner notes say the Sisters had been singing professionally since they were children, with various stops along the way, including Lillian Stovall’s description of them having been the “18^th version of the Ikettes” for Ike & Tina Turner.  Though the Sisters are quite clearly rooted in gospel, this is definitely an attempt at more of a pop/soul crossover, though that attempt ultimately failed if you think about how difficult the original vinyl is to find now.  There are a couple groovers, a couple soul numbers, a couple straight gospel numbers, all translated through the depth of spirit and intensity embedded in the Sisters’ harmonies and lead vocals.  I wouldn’t say this is a perfect record, but its best moments succeed in grand fashion.