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!!!!!!!”