Weldon Irvine: "Cosmic Vortex (Justice Divine)"

My first OG copy of a Weldon Irvine album.  Weldon’s stuff is so great because it bends to no-one’s rules except his own; “Cosmic Vortex” may have been produced for a major label (RCA), but it’s easily as underground-oriented as any of his independently-released projects.  It’s no secret why sample-heads love Irvine; his grooves issue forth with proto-hip-hop energy, and tons of his songs have long drum-breaks and/or otherwise-sample-worthy moments.  I dig “Love Your Brother” (both versions), the nonstop funk throw-down “Walk That Walk, Talk That Talk,” the NuYorican-sounding “Let Yourself Be Free” and the fusion-prog workout of the title track, but everything here is good.  Irvine’s keys are front and center, bringing with them that subtle, intensely rhythmic sensibility that always seemed at the core of his playing.  In addition to his own exceptional talents, there is a very impressive lineup of musicians on the session credits, including Lenny White, Jimmy Owens, Bob Cranshaw, Cornell Dupree, Gordon Edwards, etc.  This is the kind of record that served as a virtual blueprint for the genesis of the NYC jazz-funk scene, paving the way for many generations to come.

Marlena Shaw: "The Spice Of Life"

So, if you’ve been following my posts, you’re already aware of my fascination/obsession with the Cadet label, and here, dear reader, is one of the absolute rarest slabs of vinyl they ever put out.  Unlike a lot of the other rare vinyl I dig up, this one was rare when it first came out in the late ‘60’s, so much so that it was released in a second pressing with a different cover in the early ’70’s.  I think the copy I found may be a bastard child of the two pressings; the cover is definitely a ‘60’s original, but the vinyl is the ‘70’s-vintage orange label.  Whatever its origins, this is an incredible record, certainly in keeping with the singular flavor of other Cadet releases from this period.  Sample-heads love “Woman Of The Ghetto” and “California Soul”; I’m particularly enamored with the former, with its nodding bass-line, its reverbed kalimba, and Shaw’s testifying vocals.  The other nice cuts are the psych version of “Stormy Monday” with fuzz guitar solos (probably by Phil Upchurch, Cash McCall or Pete Cosey, though the band is uncredited in the liner notes), the moody, pensive plea of “Where Can I Go?,” and the righteous “Liberation Conversation,” which is kind of a continuation of the sound and message of “Woman Of The Ghetto.”  Marlena Shaw’s vocals are quite versatile; she can go from small-club jazz singer to full-blown soul belter in a matter of seconds, and it doesn’t hurt that the arrangements and production are handled by, as was usually the case with Cadet at this time, Charles Stepney and Richard Evans.  You already know how I feel about these two visionaries, they take an already superb band and singer and combine it with their own sonic signature, which elevates the whole undertaking to some distant and dreamy place beyond the stars.  Cadet triumphs again.

The Pazant Brothers & The Beaufort Express: "Loose And Juicy"

Yeah, you read it correctly, the name of this record is “Loose And Juicy.”  Does it live up to such descriptivism?  Mostly, yes.  The Pazant Brothers had been present on the New York scene for a while by the time this (their one and only LP) came out, gigging with Pucho Brown, Sonny Phillips and others.  This album has both its supporters and its detractors; some have criticized it for not being as raw and funky as the Brothers’ earlier 45 releases, though I think that misses the point somewhat, as it’s still a good record.  There are a couple so-so tracks, sure, but they’re more than made up for by the funk burners, like “A Gritty Nitty,” “You’ve Got To Do Your Best,” “Toe Jam” and the title cut, to say nothing of the synthed-out syncopated New Orleans strut of “Spooky.”  The Brothers themselves being horn players, the truly transcendent moments of this LP are found in the horn charts and solos, which simmer and sizzle until they reach a boiling point, and spill over with all kinds of groove-drenched niceness.  This is an interesting curiosity from the NYC funk underground that, due to its rarity, is still relatively unheard.

Grupo Irakere: "Grupo Irakere"

So, there’s rare records, and then there’s Cuban rare records.  You think it’s hard to find a record that was made in this country?  Try finding one from a country whose product was illegal in the United States!  Couldn’t believe I came across this, bought it at a record show from a dealer who specialized in Latin funk, and the whole rest of the show I was kind of just walking around in a daze, I kept looking at it to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.  Irakere is among my favorite groups of any genre; the first time I heard them, I was radicalized by their boldness, their utterly fearless blending of music from the past, present and future.  This is their very first LP, opening with the game-changing Afro-Cuban-jazz-funk cut “Bacalao Con Pan,” then moving into other territories, like the almost Beatles-y “Danza De Los Nanigos,” the rhythmic exercise “Taka Taka Ta,” the knotty, horn-driven “Luisa,” the garage-fusion-Cuban “Quindiambo,” and the percussion-led “Misaluba.”  Group leader Chucho Valdes is brilliant; his arrangements, songwriting and keyboard playing are of an extremely high standard, equaling the work of other genre-mashing contemporaries like Miles, Zawinul, Corea, etc., while at the same time remaining more rooted in concise song structures, not letting the chops of the band (which also included jazz luminaries Paquito D’Rivera and Arturo Sandoval at this time) wander off into aimless jamming.  It’s not likely you’re going to find this album lingering in the bins at your local record store, but if you’re lucky enough to spot it, cop it.

Roy Ayers Ubiquity: "Ubiquity"

Next to “He’s Coming,” this is the rarest of the Roy Ayers Ubiquity LP’s, and also is one of the best.  The production on this album is rawer and hazier than it would be on his subsequent work, and with Roy’s vibes being run through a fuzz pedal for a majority of the record, that rugged energy suits the material perfectly.  There are many Ayers classics here, including the anthemic “Pretty Brown Skin” and the low-down grunginess of “The Fuzz.”  It’s the so-called album cuts, however, that I find myself gravitating to upon repeated listens, with “Love,” “Hummin” and “Painted Desert” being among my personal favorites.  The band interplay throughout this record is spectacular; longtime Ayers associate Harry Whitaker contributes keyboards that are both ethereal and intense, as well as being a perfect foil for Roy’s fuzzed-out vibes tones, and Alphonse Mouzon drives the whole thing with his relentless yet subtle drumming.  This isn’t one of Ayers’ most popular LP’s, but its underground, almost lo-fi atmosphere makes it all the more wonderful for those with open ears and minds.

The Artistics: "I Want You To Make My Life Over"

Heavenly soul from Chicago’s Brunswick label.  The usual session suspects can be found in the production and arrangement credits—Carl Davis, Eugene Record, Johnny Pate, Willie Henderson, Tom Tom Washington.  They craft a similar sound for the Artistics as they did for Record’s own Chi-Lites, with subtle strings, uptown grooves and swooning harmonies all coming together to form a vision that could only come from Chicago.  The material the group performs on this album is more diverse than the usual effort of this kind; instead of pulling from the regular pool of Chicago songwriters, they go in all directions, covering “Out In The Country” (also done on the Bobby Taylor LP discussed in this same post), “What The World Needs Now Is Love,” and “That Lucky Old Sun,” putting those modern standards alongside more progressive soul material like “Just Another Heartache,” “Sugar Cane,” “Trouble, Heartache & Pain,” “Nothing But Heartaches” and the majestic title track (geez, what is it with these guys and heartache?).  To me, what stands out about these Chicago-soul-dream-team-produced-and-arranged records is the mood and the combination of elements used—like so much of the music coming out of the Windy City at that time, the use of musical aspects that would perhaps be disparate in lesser hands is masterfully orchestrated (figuratively and literally), with the harmonies, fuzz guitars, strings, horns and funk rhythms all coalescing into one magnificently soulful, uniquely American gumbo.

Groove Holmes: "Onsaya Joy"

This seems to be the hardest to find of all the Groove Holmes LP’s.  That probably has something to do with the fact that it was released on Flying Dutchman in 1975, right as that label and many other funk/soul/jazz labels were in the midst of their death throes.  It’s a shame, then, that “Onsaya Joy” suffered the fate of being lost in the shuffle of record label demise, as it might be my favorite Groove Holmes album ever, and I own more than a few.  It was recorded live at NYC’s Halfnote club, and it’s incredible to think that this band was only a trio, as they stir up a hurricane of sounds, textures and swing.  Holmes often outdid his peers in terms of his organ technique, playing not only impossibly complex runs up top but also crafting some of the most memorable organ bass-lines ever on the bottom end.  On this LP he also experiments with un-credited synthesizers, most prominently on the monstrous title track, which shifts in its second half from blissed-out soul-jazz-funk to outer-space ruminations not often found during live organ-driven performances.  The other members of the band contribute significantly to the exquisite atmosphere as well; guitarist Orville J. Saunders II mixes his style up between Montgomery/Benson-inspired solos and choppy wah-wah rhythms more likely to be found on a Kool & The Gang record, while drummer Thomas Washington, Jr. lays back in the pocket on the funk grooves and swings like Art Blakey on the jazz cuts.  There’s not a bad track on this album, from the frighteningly up-tempo takes on “Sweet Georgia Brown” and “Green Dolphin Street” to the radically rearranged R&B version of “Song For My Father.”  This one’s not easy to track down, but it’s worth the looking.