Category: Sampled

Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Sampled

The Bare-Faced Chic Of It!

Craig McAllister

Ask anyone to name the great double-act song writers and they’ll give you any number of Lennons & McCartneys, Liebers & Stollers, Goffins & Kings, Morrisseys & Marrs, (insert your choice here ______). I’d wager that few amongst you would automatically add the names of Edwards & Rodgers to that esteemed list, yet in my world they’d be one of the first double acts I’d think of.

Edwards & who?,  you might ask. Well, you wouldn’t. You are, after all, men (& women) of wealth and taste. Jagger & Richards, there’s another! But plenty people are familiar with the music of Edwards & Rodgers, yet few would know them by name. They’ve been sampled a gazillion times (Grandmaster Flash‘s Adventures on the Wheels of Steel – but you knew that already), helping give birth to hip-hop. They’ve been ripped off by the obvious (Queen‘s Another One Bites The Dust) and the not-so-obvious (The Smiths – listen to the second verse of The Boy With The Thorn In His Side. Hear that rinky-dink guitar riff in the background? That’s Johnny Marr’s homage to Nile Rodgers so it is. JM is such a fan of the Chic guitarist, he named his son after him). But I bet even the most ardent of music fans you know from work would be hard-pushed to tell you who they were. Go on! Ask someone tomorrow!

Seasoned New York sessioneers-for-hire Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers formed Chic in 1976.  Once they’d added vocalist Norma Jean Wright to their studio line-up, Atlantic Records signed them on the strength of their demo tape. That same tape made up the bulk of their first album, Chic, in 1977 and had dance floors from Studio 54 and beyond getting all hot under the collar to their unique blend of bass-heavy/guitar-lite/whispered female vocals. I love ’em. I am after all unashamedly disco, but to me, Chic are more than mere disco. Top players making top records. If they were, like, a proper rock band (ugh!), they’d be revered everywhere from Irvine, California to Irvine,  Ayrshire.

Listen to this. I Want Your Love, from ’78s C’est Chic LP. Following the bass-heavy/guitar-lite/whispered female vocals template, it oozes quality. Remember that this was the era when disco was dead, when technique-based musicianship was sneered at with a curled lip and ball of phlegm. Chic didn’t care. They stuck church bells, church bells! on top, added the grooviest of trumpet ‘n string refrains and played it out for 6 and a half minutes. The bare-faced Chic of it, by not conforming to the norm surely that’s more punk than punk?! Elsewhere, chord progressions may have been getting simpler and ‘proper’ musicians were dumbing down. Like a modernised version of an old Stax or Motown Revue, Chic were a guitar-based rock group playing dance music, for the pure sophisticated thrill of it. I Want Your Love never sounds tired, or dated. C’est Chic indeed.

Like that? Try this. I found it a while back on this magical world wide web we are a-surfin’ together. It’s a fan remix, the Dream Time Mix, not official in any sense of the word, but it is simply sensational – over 13 minutes long and quite superb.

Like that? Now try this. Edwards & Rodgers were accomplished producers. One artist to benefit from their talents was French singer Sheila B. In 1979, under the name Sheila and B. Devotion she had a massive hit with Spacer. The Chic hallmarks are all there – the instantly hummable bass riff, the instantly recognisable clipped guitar, the breathy female vocals. Spacer sounds a bit like Nico in places, more Germanic than French. But I doubt Nico would’ve ever allowed herself to be discofied in quite such a glorious manner.

Useless Spacer fact: Edwyn Collins always has a copy of Spacer on hand whenever he’s booked to DJ somewhere.

Now go and listen to all those brilliant Orange Juice records and ponder – that hummable bassline? Hmmm. That clipped guitar? Uhhh huhhh. Y’see…Edwyn knows the score! Chic-meets-the-Velvets I think was his phrase, wasn’t it?

Hard-to-find, Sampled

Virgin Records

Craig McAllister

Far, far away, in a galaxy long ago, long before Jarvis Cocker and his friends were reminising about their first time…

Ch-ch-ch-ch-check it out!

“This is the story of out first teacher,” crooned those Caledonian Casanovas The Proclaimers. “Shetland made her jumpers and the devil made her features.” This Is The Story was The Proclaimers first album, released way back in 1987 and taken from it, the solidly swinging Over And Done With was a broad Scots’ celebration of all things conjugal, backed by an Iggy Pop Passenger riff and rough-roon-the-edges Everly Brothers 2-part harmonies.

“This is the story of losing my virginity.

I held my breath and the bed held a trinity.

People I’m making no claims to no mystery,

but sometimes it feels like my sex life’s all history.

It’s over and done with, it’s over and done with….”

For this particular pair of Celtic balladeers who were more geek than chic, it really was over and done with, in every sense of the phrase. I saw The Proclaimers around the time of their first album when they sauntered onto the stage at the Motherwell Music Festival as support to Deacon Blue; no dry ice, no fanfares, no strobes, just the pair of them, one with guitar, the other with an orange Adidas kit bag from where he produced an assortment of bongo drums, tambourines and other things that made a primary school racket when beaten, bashed and bumped. They were quite terrific if I remember, far superior to the headliners who took it all far too seriously, and despite them being the brunt of a million jokes, with a gazillion+ sales of 500 Miles they’re having the last laugh. They’ve probably moved onto a nicer class of teacher too.

The Proclaimers may have got it over and done with with the help of an anonymous eager Shetlander, but De La Soul were a bit more open about things on ‘88’s Jenifa (Taught Me). Built almost entirely from samples using the finest cut ‘n paste methods for the time, Jenifa is funkier than a mosquito’s tweeter, it kicks like a mule (thanks to the Steve Miller Band’s skitteryTake the Money And Run drum break) and, no beating about the bush, gets straight to the point.

“The downstairs, where we met
I brought records, she cassettes
Lost the break, found her shape
Jenifa, oh Jenny

Transcripts showed more than flirt
’I love daisies’ read her shirt
Grabbed my jeans, Jimmy screamed
Jenifa, oh Jenny

Marvellous
Shaped like a vase
No one can live their life for Pos
Found a house, aroused my joust
Jenifa, oh Jenny

Her clothes, I did shuck
Just like Dan I strictly stuck
To the punt, she cried ’kick it’
Posdnuos was in”

And on and on it goes, samples of Maggie Thrett’s fantastically funky’ Soupy’ and Lynn Collins ‘Think’ tumbling in and out of the mix as the 3 De La’s take turns on the mic. You’ll like it. If you’re familiar with the 3 Feet High and Rising album version, make way for the rowdier original 12” mix.

Yowsa! Thrett. No threat.

Cover Versions, demo, Hard-to-find, Sampled

Stone Soul Picnic

Craig McAllister

There was a brilliant piece in Mojo a few months back where a Dutch writer tracked down Sly Stone and managed to get him to ruminate on his life and music. Currently living between low-rent hotels and a minibus, Sly is crippled financially by the double whammy of huge medical bills and the ongoing saga of not receiving royalties from any of his Family Stone material. It seems that the Michael Jackson Estate holds all his copyright and since Jackson’s unexpected death Sly has been trying somewhat unsuccessfully to have his songs (and royalties) returned to him. All this won’t matter though, if the new album he has ready to go puts him back in the big time. Hmmmm.

Sly Stone 2009. Do not adjust your set.

Sly took a lot of drugs in the 70s. But you knew that already. He famously invited girls back to his studio, offering them the chance to sing on his records if they in return took care of his more immediate needs. Deed duly done, he would simply wipe their vocals from the session, ready to be replaced by the next naive hopeful the following day. Listen to There’s A Riot Goin’ On. Fantastically dark, druggy album, yeah? But a bit muddy sounding? That’s due to all the tape wiping that went on. By the time the record was finished the mastertape was almost unusable. I don’t know if he could get away with that today in the era of ProTools, but I’m sure if there’s a will there’s a way. He ain’t called Sly for nuthin’.

Classic Sly. Waiting for a backing singer.

You will all be familiar with Sly’s greatest hits ‘n bits of music. The focus for now is on those little-heard gems from his extraordinary back catalogue. One of his least-praised albums is 1974’s Small Talk. The last Sly album to feature the original Family Stone, it was released just after Sly married Kathleen Silva on the stage at Madison Square Garden. A mellower and downbeat affair (surprisingly given he’d just been wed), Small Talk relied heavily on pitter-pattering drum machines for the back beat. You won’t find anything approaching Dance To The Music-style hysterics on here, but you will find Time For Livin’. Have a listen to Time For Livin’ early version. Now go and compare it with The Charlatans‘ excellent wah wah and beat-heavy cover, taken from 1995’s charity ‘Help‘ compilation. I like the way Tim Burgess sings ‘fook‘. I had been unaware Sly swore on his version until hearing the cover and backtracking, ears ablaze and eyes a-popppin’. You probably know that the Beastie Boys do a thrash skate punk version on Check Your Head, but you’ll also know how far removed it is from Sly’s original that it’s almost impossible to count it as a cover version.

“I do!”

Although one or two band members appeared on it, Sly dropped the Family Stone moniker for his next outing, ’75’s High On You. None of its singles managed to crack the US Top 40, something Sly wasn’t used to at all. One of the better tracks is Crossword Puzzle. You might recognise the trumpet break from it. De La Soul sampled it to good effect on Say No Go. Here’s the harder-to-find Say No Go (Dope Mix). I’ve posted some stuff about De La Soul before, the records they sampled to make The Magic Number and suchlike. I don’t think the mp3 links will still work, but you can read about it if you’d like. Listen too to this, a trumpet-free take of Crossword Puzzle (early version). Demoed, sampled, looped and covered. That should be enough to keep you going for a few days.

Sly at Woodstock. That frantic, scratching sound you can hear in the background is the sound of Prince and Lenny Kravitz and (insert your own) scribbling down notes as they try to keep up with the master.

 

demo, Hard-to-find, Kraut-y, Sampled, studio outtakes

Meaty, Beaty, Big & Bouncy

Craig McAllister

Here’s a thing. Ask people to describe the music of the Stone Roses and most will wax lyrical about melody, tunes, 60s influenced pop and all that. Maybe they’ll drop in a hip reference to The Theme from Shaft by way of Electric Ladyland, or if they’re super-hip they’ll point out just how similar Fools Gold is to Can‘s I’m So Green – all skittering drums, whispered vocals and taught elastic bassline over a one-chord groove. Listen for yourself here.

But anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Today, I want you to reappraise what, to me, is the jewel in the Stone Roses particularly shiny crown. It’s not the saccahrine rush of She Bangs The Drums or the euphoric highs of Made Of Stone or the total groove lockdown of Fools Gold. Nope. The Stone Roses record that does it for me everytime is Something’s Burning, little-played and little-loved b-side of One Love.

Ever since the album and accompanying b-sides were re-released last year, this track has taken on a new lease of life for me. If the original album was the sound of a band gliding effortlessly over and beyond all musical competition, the remastered album was the sound of a jet plane landing in your back garden – terrifyingly loud and absolutely thrilling. Weedy, thin-sounding tracks suddenly came alive. Full of depth, muscle and bite, Something’s Burning now had a jungle pulse bassline that sounded as if it came from the heart of Africa itself. This track isn’t an ‘instant’ track. On first listen 20 years ago it sounded rather one dimensional and uninspiring, but I’m glad I’ve rediscovered it.

Unlike the instant hit you get with all other Stone Roses material, repeated plays of Something’s Burning reveal new things. Amongst the skittering drums, whispered vocals and taught elastic bassline over a one-chord groove…HEY! hang on a minute!….listen closely and you’ll hear some jazzy vibraphone, bongos and some fine understated John Squire guitar riffing. The track ebbs and flows, rises and falls, and on my original vinyl copy the dynamics of this are lost somewhat amongst the snaps and crackles in the grooves. Not so the new-improved version.  

*Bonus Tracks

Something’s Burning demo – Well dontchaknowit – it begins with the same looped and sampled Funky Drummer break that accompanied Fools Gold!

Something’s Burning (jam and chat)  – hidden track (yeah!) on Disc 2 of the Stone Roses remastered album. 

And just so you know….

But you knew that already.

Cover Versions, Hard-to-find, Sampled

Unashamedly Disco

Craig McAllister

I’m an unashamed fan of disco. Aye, in it’s heyday it might’ve been the shallowest form of music around, the 70s equivalent, yet better-dressed cousin, of contemporary throwaway nonsense like Lady GaGa or Pink. But sneer not. Listen closely to any of those era-defining records and unlike those (coughs smugly) ‘artists‘ of today, you’ll find a real soul at the heart of it all. Real instruments played by real musicians. 4 real (man). Listen to the guitar playing on anything off the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and tell me that’s not up there with Jeff Beck. Listen to Nile Rodgers’ rinky-dink funk riffs on any Chic record you care to pick at random then listen to the second verse of The Smiths ‘Boy With the Thorn In His Side’ and tell me Johnny Marr doesn’t rate the playing on Chic records. Major copyism going on there! In homage to Chic, Johnny Marr even went so far as naming his son Nile!

So aye. I like disco music. And I’m clearly not alone. Abba (aye, snigger all you want) loved George McCrae’s Rock Your Baby so much they nicked the drum sound from it for Dancing Queen. “So what,” you say? Well, a couple of years later and Elvis Costello was touring somewhere in the American mid-west. He’d been working on a new song but was getting frustrated at the lack of a good melodic hook for the intro. Dancing Queen comes on the radio. He loooks at Steve Nieve and asks him to listen closely to the piano part. Could he replicate it? A wee while later and Oliver’s Army is complete. True story that. What goes around comes around and all that. If you don’t believe me, seek out the 2 tracks in question and play the intros back to back. I’d put them up here, but the internet police would be straight on my back…

A few weeks ago I was at a friend’s house. He hosted a music night where 5 of us took it in turn to play 5 records, each grouped into distinct categories. So far, so Nick Hornby. I can almost hear your muffled laughter from here. The one track that made the biggest impression on me that night was not the long-forgotten Tom Waits album track or the hard-to-find and rare-as… punk 7″ that I’d never heard before or the, well, I’m sure you can imagine exactly the sort of records that were played that night. No. The record that made the biggest impression on me that night was this gem from the early 80s.

DJ Gary Byrd and the GB Experience ‘The Crown’. Over 10 minutes of soul/funk/rap and, most definitely, disco, I hadn’t heard it since it had last troubled the charts (number 6 in July 83, trivia fans). It sounded better than I’d ever remembered. Written by Stevie Wonder to boot. He does a wee rap/verse thing at one point. I’m sure he plays drums on it too (it sure sounds like him), but that might just be me making things up as I can’t find much in the way of info about it online.  It’s a disco classic folks, from the days when D.I.S.C.O. was D.E.A.D. The Fresh Prince was clearly getting jiggy to it as well, but we’ll gloss over that part.

Conversly, in 1974, just before D.I.S.C.O. went B.O.O.M., People’s Choice recorded this, Do It Anyway You Wanna. People’s Choice were from Philly (of course) and had a reasonably successful recording career. Andrew Collins played the original of this on BBC 6 Music the other day and I went and dug out my copy. Sadly, my version is a mildly irritating remixed version featuring snatches of Oops Upside Your Head, Last Night a DJ Saved My Life and stuff like that. Still magic though. And it reminds me of Saddle Up and Ride Your Pony and the Billy Connolly “I’ll walk you home when I empty my underwear‘ sketch that goes with it.

BONUS TRACK!

Happy Mondays do Staying Alive. The producer takes a stanley knife to much of the Pills, Thrills… album, snatches of tracks you know and love weave in and out of the mix, Shaun skanks on top of the unholy soup, Rowetta yodels and wails like a transvestite with his balls caught in a vice. This is the sound of a band on the ropes. The final round with no fight, nothing left to give back. It. Is. A. Mess. Enjoy it! The only good thing is the guitar riff. It sounds like a funky bucket. And I mean that in a good way of course.

Shane MacGowan Shaun Ryder

Cover Versions, elliott smith, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Sampled

Sum Songs

Craig McAllister

Regular readers here will know that I’m somewhat a fan of Elliott Smith. I’ve posted various bits and pieces of his before. Equal parts downbeat alt. folk mumbler and upbeat Beatles-obsessed melodic genius, I could listen to Elliott all day. Stuck at the end of the Son Of Sam single (November 2000) was this, the what I assumed to be title track but left of the album of the same name Figure 8. It’s spooky as hell. A simple music box piano plays a spidery, child-like melody in the background while Elliott quietly sings these fantastic lyrics:

Figure 8 is double 4
Figure 4 is half of 8
If you skate, you would be great,
if you could make a figure 8,
that’s a circle that turns round upon itself. 

Figure 8 is 2 times 4
4 times 4 is 2 times 8
If you skate upon thin ice,
you’d be wise if you thought twice,
before you made another single move.

Amazingly (to me at least), it turns out that Figure 8 is not an Elliott original. It was written in 1973 by Bob Dorough and recorded by Blossom Dearie. It first came to the public’s attention via US TVs Schoolhouse Rock series of educational programmes – aye, the same series of programmes that brought you Dorough’s own The Magic Number. You know, “3. Is a magic number. Yes it is. It’s a …” Of course you do. Turns out Dorough is a bit of a jazz cat – he worked with Miles Davis and Alan Ginsberg, played ‘tween Lenny Bruce stand-up sets and led the band in boxer Sugar Ray Robinson’s musical revue.  

Elliott Smith stays pretty faithful to the first half of Dorough’s/Dearie’s original. But whereas his stops at downbeat and introspective, Blossom Dearie picks herself up halfway through and starts singing the 8 times table, much in the way Bob Dorough does in The Magic Number. It’s a weird, weird record, and given my love for Bob Dorough’s most famous tune, I can’t believe I haven’t picked up on the rest of his Schoolhouse Rock stuff until now. As I have just found out to my pleasant surprise, the Schoolhouse Rocks records take all the best bits of Peanuts, The Muppets and Sesame Street and those ‘Charlie Says..‘ UK public information films and ends up with something that is both extremely twee and/or child-friendly, depending on which side of the fence you’re sitting. I bet Duglas T Stewart has an original 1970s vinyl copy somewhere.

 

Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Sampled

Superbe? Non, Sublime! (see video for details)

Craig McAllister

Confession time. Leaving aside the ubiquitous and brilliant Je t’aime (moi non plus), until last weekend I had never heard a single Serge Gainsbourg record. I had been reading an article about his daughter Charlotte and how she had been working with Beck. The article mentioned that Beck’s Sea Change album (a favourite of mine) was heavily influenced by Histoire de Melody Nelson, Gainsbourg’s accepted masterpiece. Knowing that other favourites of mine like Jarvis Cocker, St Etienne and Stereolab were fans, it seemed obvious and (long overdue) that I should pay a visit a la maison de Serge and I duly got myself a copy of Histoire de Melody Nelson. I’m glad I did.

 

Where has this music been all my life?! I had expected Gainsbourg to come across like some Gallic garlic-breathed, Gitanes rasping Tom Waits on heat. Which, when I think about it, sounds pretty brilliant actually. But no! Sure, with his droopy eyes and beaky nose he might look like a particularly pervy old turtle (what did the ladies see in him?), but close your eyes and he sounds fantastic. Histoire de Melody Nelson is all street walking, hip thrusting bass and funk guitar. The vocals are practically spoken and drip with what I assume to be lust – my French isn’t as good as it used to be but given Serge’s track record I must assume that this is the case. After all, the guy has history….

Hee hee! The album is (whisper it again – see Sopht Rock post below) a concept album. A Rolls Royce driving Serge knocks a pretty young girl off her bike. As he runs to her aid his thoughts turn not to how badly injured she is, but how beautiful she looks. Naturellement. Sleazy? You bet. Think Marvin Gaye dressed not in a modish mohair suit but in a dirty raincoat. How come he got away with stuff like this and R Kelly ended up in the jail? Well, to answer my own question, R Kelly’s music is clearly criminal enough…
 
Histoire de Melody Nelson is equal part Funkadelic and equal part Jacques Brel. Given the combination of music and subject matter, Prince must surely be a fan. The playing on it is outstanding. Not surprising given the calibre of the musicians. No household names, but the individuals involved have impressive form.

On guitars, Big Jim Sullivan and Vic Flick. Big Jim was an in demand sessioneer in the 60s (He was ‘Big’ Jim so as not to confuse him with Little Jim(my) Page), he played with Tom Jones in his 70s Vegas Golden Era, befriending Elvis in the process, and appears, allegedly and un-credited, on almost 1000 hit singles. Vic Flick was part of the John Barry Seven. You’ve heard his guitar playing a million times before – it’s his distinctive twang that plays the James Bond Theme. As well as playing in assorted musical line ups in the 70s, keyboardist Alan Hawkshaw wrote much music for adverts, composed a ton of BBC library music and came up with Chicken Man, better known to most of you here as the Grange Hill theme. Most impressively of all, he wrote the music you hear on Countdown as the clock ticks down to zero. Bassman Herbie Flowers has many strings to his bass/bow. He is known to many as bassist in 70s classic/prog/rock fusion ensemble Sky and he is known to 80s kids as the writer of novelty pop hit Grandad, but he is perhaps best known for playing that bassline on Lou Reed’s Walk On The Wild Side. But, hey boy, you knew that already, didn’t you?

Serge et Jane B. Lucky B.

Histoire de Melody Nelson is a short album, less than half an hour long, and sounds like one continuous piece of music. This is the best way to listen to it. I’ve posted a track below (listen out for the way he croons “merde”), but really, to get the full experience, you should allow yourself half an hour to enjoy the album as a whole. While you do, have a perv at the cover. That’s Jane Birkin on the front. And I don’t think she’s wearing much more than that pair of jeans…..

Serge Gainsbourg Melody

Following on from this week’s epiphany, my search for Serge has led me to a wonderful album called Les Annees Psychedelique. It contains every bit of French freak-out funk and jazz you could ever possibly need. One track stood out above all. Requiem Pour Un Con reminded me of an old track by The Folk Implosion. Playing the 2 tracks back to back I realised that The Folk Implosion had sampled and looped the opening drum track and fashioned it into a fantastic instrumental tribute to Gainsbourg named ‘Serge‘.

Also on Les Annees Psychedelique is Bonnie & Clyde, Serge’s 1968 duet with Brigitte Bardot. Not as famous as Je t’aime, but equally as good. I’m now off to find Serge’s original version of said track, featuring Bardot instead of Birkin on vocals. À beintôt! 

Bof!

Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Sampled

Who Loves Ya Baby?

Craig McAllister

Aye, it may be Valentine’s day and Cupid may well have shot his arrow haphazardly in my direction, but there’s no room for slushy sentimental syrup here. Only the finest in 1970s funk (of course).

A track popped up on the iPod the other day and I was convinced I was listening to a rare outtake of The Temptations Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone. It had that same stop/start bass riff, sweeping cinematic strings and double-time handclaps, and it was only the absence of vocals that had me reaching for the ‘now playing’ menu to see what I was really listening to.

It was this, an obscure funk/soul track by Brinkley & Parker. Released in 1974, Don’t Get Fooled By The Pander Man could well be the theme for a long-forgotten down market cop show. Clipped wockawockawocka guitar, brass ‘n strings and a fantastic hi-hat and handclaps rhythm which kicks in around the 1 min 30 mark, Don’t Get Fooled By The Pander Man is the sound of beige leather jackets with over-sized floppy collars, 27″ bell bottoms and stacked cuban heels. With added car chases and Chinese food in cardboard boxes. As the man himself once said, Can You Dig It?

Ah, what the heck?!

I recently put up a rare version of Ball Of Confusion which is still available here. As another bonus, here‘s the full 11 minutes + version of Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone. Like that? You’ll like this – The Temptations Psychedelic Shack. A wee bit Sly, a wee bit Hendrix, a whole lotta groove.

Sometimes, the shortest posts are the best. I know you all just scroll through the crap that drips from my typing fingers til you find the mp3 links anyway. Bastards.

Anyway, thanks (as always) for visiting. I love ya, baby! Au revoir, a bientot!

Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Sampled

The Godfather 3

Craig McAllister

I feel good! And so does my PC. Following a series of bangs, crashes, lost passwords and mis-firing emails, my old 20th century steam powered computer is back in the land of the living. So whilst the Antiques Roadshow were valuing it as a contemporary classic I’ve been busying myself listening to James Brown, the really early doo-wop influenced James Brown. Lo and behold, I get myself back online and discover that one of my pals has posted this on his Facebook page:

Mr Big Stuff, it’s surely a divine sign! I love the way he lets out one of those involuntary phlegmy ‘Huh!s’ towards the end. That’s why James Brown will never be bettered, if you ask me. Sadly, the self-styled Soul Brother #1 would never have done the Mashed Potato or the Tap Dancer to ‘Try Me’ or ‘Please Please Please’. Those dances were reserved for the BAM! 2,! 3! 4! BAM! 2,! 3! 4! funk-soul nuggets that earned him all those superlative-filled outrageous nick names. Tunes like ‘Cold Sweat’ or ‘There Was A Time’ or ‘Say It Loud (I’m Black & I’m Proud)’ sound great, but they look fantastic when The Entertainer breaks out one of his dance routines mid-song (Go to YouTube. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200. Just Go! Now!)

The James Brown Revue began touring in 1960. Brown hired a tight, tight band who played for their lives with one eye on the crowd and both eyes on their leader. He’d point to the horn player at any given moment and expect him to blast out a note-perfect solo. He’d jab a finger at the drummer and expect him to ‘get wicked’ just like that. His band quickly learned to do just that because he’d fine them if they missed the first bar in any one of those jerky four-to-the-floor masterpieces. If they couldn’t take it to the bridge, it was the end of the road for them as musicians. But you knew all that already. In his Revue he’d always have some female company who would do a set at the start. Many of these women learned to give it up or turn it loose, so to speak, and they became on-the-road girlfriends of James Brown.

‘Marvellous’ Marva Whitney was one such lady. James Brown chose her set, sang duets on stage with her before his performance and generally did with her what he’d do with his other female singers. After a bit, Marva got fed up of Brown choosing her material and after trying but failing to become Mrs James Brown she left in a bit of a huff, though not before she’d recorded half a dozen or so funktastic solo tracks and the odd duet with James. She swapped one religious experience for another by becoming a God-fearin’, soul-stirrin’ minister in Kansas City. Here’s 3 of the most soulful and funkiest (and longest titled) she recorded with JB’s backing band.

Unwind Yourself

You Got To Have A Job (If You Don’t Work You Don’t Eat)

It’s My Thing (You Can’t Tell Me Who To Sock It To) Parts 1 &2

You’ll probably recognise riffs, melodies and tunes from elsewhere, not least other James Brown records.

I got to see James Brown live just the once. It was kinda tragic. Half way throught his set, Soul Brother #1 left for a quick costume change and while he did so, a magician came out and sawed a woman in half to the sound of Brown’s band playing furious funk. No kiddin’! It wasn’t that great really. The time I saw Prince, he was far better. Irony, huh?

Cover Versions, Gone but not forgotten, Hard-to-find, Sampled

A Right Coupla Tramps

Craig McAllister

Now and again I’ll get emails from people requesting stuff. Sometimes specific (“Got any Mogwai outtakes?” – Nope.) Sometimes more general (“Can you re-post that (insert anything from the past 3 years) please – Come on! Gie’s a break! “More Smiths!” “Radiohead!” “White Stripes!” “More soul please!”) OK! OK! More soul I can do. I like my soul music a lot. I think I have all the relevant bases covered in my collection. Just to make sure, I listen every Saturday night to Craig Charles‘ excellent Funk and Soul show on BBC 6 Music. As it says on the tin, the show covers a whole range of funk and soul, from the rarest northern to the most commercial Motown, the downright wilfully obscure and elitist to the phatest tooth-loosening funk-heavy slab of right up to date contemporary release. It’s probably my favourite show on the radio, ideal for cooking to if the mood takes me. You’d like it. Click on the link above and give it a try.

Otis Redding and Carla Thomas.

Anyone know who the piano player is?

Nothing particularly obscure and elitist here though. I’ve had a bit of a Stax attack recently. My 9CD 68-71 Complete Stax/Volt Singles Box Set has been given a good going over and Carla Thomas & Otis Redding‘s Tramp has had a fair few plays. When you hear the pistol crack drums and tight-as-a-teenage boy’s trousers horn section, it’s no surprise to learn it’s been heavily sampled by hip hoppers across the globe. Especially as there’s an instrumental version that made it out the Stax vaults a few years ago. The piano riff, with it’s big bluesy bass notes really does it for me. Who says white men can’t dance? If you want to listen to the complete track, here it is. If you fancy a bit of bedroom remixing, here‘s the instrumental track.

Tramp was also covered by Lowell Fulson. A fairly straightforward rendition, it’s still worth a listen. The guitar sound during the solo on Lowell’s track reminds me a lot of this…

‘Baby Let Me Take You (In My Arms)’ by the Detroit Emeralds. I posted it a while ago, and I’m putting it back up purely because it’s a stone cold soul classic. It’s maybe not a piece you’re familiar with, but you’ll certainly recognise it. Doing their best John Peel impression, De La Soul took the intro, played it at 45 instead of 33 and used it as the basis for their ‘Say No Go’ single. You can read more about De La Souls’ other sampling delights here and here. And before you ask – Sorry. I cannae re-post the files. They’ve been missing since the internet police found them and nearly closed this blog down. Hence the reason I don’t re-post old stuff. The Grinch, that’s what they call me at home.

Postscript – I’m A Numpty

Oh dear! Thanks to the ever vigilant amongst you I now know that;

1. That’s Booker T in the picture above. How could I fail to recognise the greatest ever organ grinder alive? Duh.

2. Lowell Fulson wrote and recorded the original version of Tramp. Otis & Carla’s version is, indeed, the cover version. Oops. 

My team of highly paid researchers are at this moment being emailed their P45s. Thanks to James and Cold Iron Kevin who pointed  this out.