Archive for the ‘r&b’ Category

EP Review: Nakia – Drown in the Crimson Tide

Wednesday, April 3rd, 2013

Deftly walking the tightrope between crafting classic soul and serving up something contemporary, Nakia‘s EP Drown in the Crimson Tide has it both ways. Remaining true to the style and spirit of southern-fried soul of the Memphis variety, Nakia still sounds current; there’s no artifice nor hamfisted retro pandering in his six self-penned tracks.

The neo-soul movement has brought to prominence some compelling artists of late: Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings, Akina Adderley, James Morrison, Mayer Hawthorne, The Right Now, The City Champs and many others. And though his recorded output to date has mostly flown under the radar – Drown in the Crimson Tide follows an earlier EP and two albums, one a collaboration with Alejandro Escovedo – he presents strong evidence that he belongs on that list.

In addition to his soulful, expressive voice and solid no-frills musical backing, Nakia Reynoso writes thoughtful lyrics: “Make Up With a Gun” digs at the motivation behind firearms ownership. The autobiographical “Dream Big” telegraphs its point in its title, but the heartfelt lyrics explain what keeps this artist moving forward. “Pieces and Castles” is less soul and more r&b/rock, and it has the feel of John Hiatt or Warren Zevon. Melanie Taylor‘s stacked-overdubbed vocals add a gospel flavor.

And in the rare case when Nakia does consciously try to emulate the sounds of old – as on the dramatic ballad “When I Found You,” he hits all the right notes. Channeling his inner Otis Redding, he’s backed by The Texicali Horns, an outfit that’s clearly ingested a steady and healthy diet of Muscle Shoals Horns. And once again Melanie Taylor’s vocal backing helps take things to another level.

The highest praise that can be conferred upon an EP is to suggest that it’s over too soon. That’s certainly the case with Drown in the Crimson Tide; hopefully another full length will come soon from this Austin-based artist worth following.

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Album Review: Albert King – Born Under a Bad Sign

Thursday, March 28th, 2013

Here’s one often reliable method for discerning whether an album is an important one: when you first hear it, do you recognize several of the songs via popular cover versions?

I didn’t grow up with the blues; I’m the product of a white, middle-class suburban family; any “ethnic” music I heard growing up in south Florida in the 60s (and Atlanta in the 70s and 80s) was mostly soul or r&b that had crossed over to the pop charts. But as my interest in (and knowledge of) rock music deepened, I started hearing a lot of cover material performed by some of my favorite artists. One of these was Cream‘s “Born Under a Bad Sign” from their 1968 double LP, Wheels of Fire. And another favorite LP of mine was released a year earlier: John Mayall’s BluesbreakersCrusade, featuring the first recorded work of Mick Taylor. That LP included “Oh! Pretty Woman.” And then in the early 80s, I saw Eric Clapton onstage for the first time, touring in support of his Money and Cigarettes album. That record included an old tune called “Crosscut Saw.” On the LP and tour, Clapton was backed by some members of Memphis legends Booker T & the MGs.

Which, finally, brings me back to my original point. In 1967, Stax Records released an album by blues legend Albert King, a record called Born Under a Bad Sign. The formidable guitarist/vocalist was backed by all four members of The MGs, (on selected tracks) by one Isaac Hayes on piano, plus The Memphis Horns. Born Under a Bad Sign might not have represented the first-recorded versions for all of the aforementioned songs, but King’s versions – original or not – certainly informed a generation of blues rockers to a great degree.

Albert King’s approach on Born Under a Bad Sign was something of a hybrid: the beefy, assured and (dare I say) macho stylings more common to the blues’ Chicago variant, coupled with the slightly more down-home Memphis approach. And it worked. The title track (written for this record by Booker T. Jones and William Bell) is taken at a measured pace, making it more menacing than it would be had it been rushed a bit. Clapton’s guitar work on Cream’s version (cut mere months later) is closely modeled on this version. “Crosscut Saw” is built atop a clickety-clack, loping drum pattern from Al Jackson, Jr. The vocals are oddly muted on this track; The Memphis Horns are out front, as is King’s stinging electric guitar.

A reading of the rock’n'roll chestnut “Kansas City” follows; while King’s version isn’t definitive, it fits well within the context of the record. “Oh! Pretty Woman” is a swaggering blues that’s every bit as heavy as anything Cream (or, later, Led Zeppelin) would ever hope to turn out. A King-penned original, “Down Don’t Bother Me” is built around a familiar blues pattern, but the alternating phrases – King’s voice, his single-note-at-a-time guitar licks – strongly recall the approach of another King, BB King. Again, The Memphis Horns provide sympathetic support.

“The Hunter” (a composition credited to most of the personnel present for the session, save King himself) sounds less like a blues and more like the sort of southern r&b Stax was known for in those days, but even in this context King sounds right at home. The tune’s Lascivious lyrics make it even better. He takes a rare turn at balladry on “I Almost Lost My Mind,” a c&w weeper more than anything else; but some jazzy flute work enlivens the tune and takes it in a very unexpected direction. “Personal Manager” is a come-on in the proud tradition, and features some tasty piano fills from Hayes. And when King tears out the song’s solo – one of the longest on the album — The Memphis Horns initially engage in a lively call-and-response with him. But eventually they give up; the indomitable King wins this round. (An amusing side note: the LP’s original liner notes – reproduced in this 2013 reissue on Stax/Concord – the song is described as “funk at its best.” Who am I to argue?

Isaac Hayes gives the 88′s a workout behind King and The MGs on “Laundromat Blues.” In fact (according to Stax historian Rob Bowman in his book Soulsville U.S.A.: The Story of Stax Records) it was this song that led to King being the first blues artist signed to Stax. He had wandered into Estelle Axton‘s Satellite Records on McLemore Avenue, trying to get a deal with Stax. Axton suggested he cut “Laundromat Blues,” and the single would become his second charting single ever (r&b #29).

Hayes returns to tickle those keys even more expertly on the slow, slow blues of “As the Years Go Passing By.” As on many of the cuts on Born Under a Bad Sign, the stereo separation plays off the dialogue between King and the horns. (Production “supervision” is credited to Jim Stewart, suggesting that Steve Cropper may well have been in actual charge of the session.) The original album wraps up with “The Very Thought of You,” the closest King comes to playing in “standards” tender crooner mode. When The Memphis Horns take their instrumental break, he implores them to “play it pretty,” and they oblige.

The 2013 reissue appends the original eleven-track’s running order with five previously-unreleased tracks: four alternate takes plus an untitled instrumental that’s essentially (and happily) a two-minute excuse for Albert King to tear into an extended guitar solo. A pair of liner note essays (one by Michael Point, from the 2002 reissue, plus a new one by Bill Dahl) provide the historical context for which Concord releases are justifiably known.

Born Under a Bad Sign is an essential addition to any comprehensive album collection that focuses at all on rock, blues or Stax r&b.

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Album Review: Freddie King – The Complete King Federal Singles

Tuesday, March 26th, 2013

Freddie King was a big man with a big guitar sound. An important figure in the history of blues, he’s also one of the most accessible artists in the genre; his influence upon rock artists has been such that when rock-tuned ears hear him, it feels right, familiar somehow. His good-timing approach owed a lot to the jump blues of Louis Jordan, but his fiery electric guitar leads pushed things forward.

The arrangement style and production of his singles has something to do with that as well. From his first Federal single in 1960, “You’ve Got to Love Her With a Feeling” (#93 pop) he took on a bright, forceful style that dared listeners to ignore him. But it was that single’s b-side, “Have You Ever Loved a woman,” that would much later become well known to rock audiences through a cover by Derek & the Dominos (featuring King acolytes Eric Clapton and Duane Allman).

“Hideaway” (#5 r&b, #29 pop) became an instant classic upon its release, too, and quickly became a part of many blues bands’ set list. Most notable perhaps was the cover by John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers (with a young Clapton on lead guitar).

The liner notes for Real Gone Music’s excellent 2CD set The Complete King Federal Singles features a fabulous and lengthy liner note essay by Bill Dahl. Dahl goes to some length to point out (somewhat hilariously, though not in an intentional way) that a number of King’s best-loved songs were often pieced together from licks taken from other songs. But – and rightly so – Dahl never lets that discussion detract from King’s estimable importance.

The instrumental “San-Ho-Zay!” is a fun and memorable tune that easily transcends the blues genre; its undeniable crossover appeal gave King a hit on two charts: #4 r&b, and #47 pop.

Due to the arc most recording careers take, coupled with the chronological approach employed in collections such as this one, the set is front-loaded with hits. Though the collection spans King’s tenure on Syd Nathan‘s label (1960-67), the string of hits ended quickly, with “Christmas Tears” in 1961. But the quality music continued: another b-side, 1962′s “The Stumble” may be the greatest song King ever wrote (or sorta-wrote) and recorded. Though Peter Green would use much more distortion when he covered it a few years later (as lead guitarist for Mayall’s Bluesbreakers), King’s original is a thrill.

In bids for commercial acceptance, King (like so many other artists of the era) made some perhaps ill-advised stylistic leaps: “Do The President Twist” is a fun — if goofy — novelty with oddly thunderous bass guitar. But 1963′s “The Bossa Nova Watusi Twist” was actually a minor (#103 pop) hit, King’s last for Federal/King. But the great songs kept coming: “Driving Sideways” and “Someday, After Awhile (You’ll Be Sorry)” (both 1964) also became part of the Bluesbreakers’ set (those guys again!).

Presented in nice-n-loud crystal-clear audio, The Complete King Federal Singles belongs in the catalog of any blues lover, as well as anyone who digs the bluesier side of 60s rock’n'roll. Freddie King successfully bridged the two styles, while remaining true to the blues tradition. Neat trick, that.

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Album Review: Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective

Monday, March 25th, 2013

Seven CDs represents quite a lot of music. And all of the music on Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective was recorded in the space of six and half year years. The earliest tracks date from spring 1965, and the latest cuts were recorded in fall 1971. But the 129 tracks span an impressively wide stylistic range, making the case (if such a case really needed making) that Duane Allman was one of the great guitarists of his generation. As a band leader, jam/collaborator and/or session player, Allman never failed to bring a fresh and unique approach to the song at hand.

While Allman developed a signature style – especially on slide guitar – he was adept and bending his style in the direction other artists’s projects needed. The result (as showcased mostly on discs 2-5) was that Duane Allman seemed always to improve a session, but he could do so in a way that didn’t necessarily call attention to him. It’s dangerous to project ideas of personalty upon an artist who’s no longer with us, but there’s plenty of evidence on Skydog that Allman was not an egocentric player.

On some of the tracks, Allman’s just there doing his part, and he’s sometimes buried in the mix. But if one listens closely, there’s always something interesting to hear coming out of the man’s guitar.

Some of the earliest material Allman recorded has circulated among collectors, and some has seen official release before. But The Escorts (one of his earliest bands) are shown to be a pretty tight little unit. The Allman Joys leaned heavily in a Yardbirds-centric direction, but they did it convincingly: somehow the band manages to sound like they wrote the songs, as opposed to coming off like one of those awful “not the original artist” acts on so many cheap compilation LPs of the era. And the Hour Glass tracks show that Allman’s band belongs on any list of important Nuggets-era garage/psych bands.

As Allman moved into session work – he was a regular and popular fixture at the Muscle Shoals studios – his playing ability advanced, and the sheer breadth of his stylistic palette expanded in many directions. His work on covers (Clarence Carter‘s reading of The Doors‘ “Light My Fire,” Wilson Pickett‘s “Hey Jude” and Aretha Franklin‘s “The Weight” to name but three of many ace cuts) shows that be brought his sensibility to bear on these unique interpretations of well-known songs.

Equally at home on soulful blues numbers (Otis Rush, King Curtis), odd, near-novelty tunes (“Hand Jive” by The Duck and the Bear) and art-pop (Laura Nyro‘s “Beads of Sweat”), Allman was a man for all seasons.

Skydog isn’t a cheap set: it lists for well over $100. But for anyone who has more than a passing interest in Allman’s music and musicianship, there are countless reasons to justify the purchase. There’s a healthy amount of previously-unreleased material here. And because Duane played on so many disparate sessions, the odds are good that you won’t have large chunks of this material in your collection already. Moreover, there’s a minimum of crushingly-obvious selections here, even though somes song simply had to be included (Derek & the Dominos‘ “Layla,” Boz Scaggs‘ epic barnburner “Loan Me a Dime”). There’s also less Allman Brothers Band music than one might expect (less than twenty songs), and when it is there, it’s especially tasty.

And the packaging is nothing short of stunning. Housed in a sturdy box made to look like a guitar case (right down to the furry gold lining inside), the package uses no plastic (except the discs themselves, of course), instead protecting the CDs in printed paper sleeves. A lovely booklet (color covers, duotones inside) is filled with discographical information, photos and thoughtful essays. A “Skydog” decal and commemorative guitar pick are also nice little touches. But none of that would matter if the music wasn’t wonderful. And it most certainly is. After working one’s way through the exhaustive musical history that is Skydog: The Duane Allman Retrospective, listeners will surely come away with a couple of enduring thoughts. One, Allman sure did a lot of good work in the space of a short six years or so. And two, had he not lost his life, he doubtless would have gone on to do even more of similarly enduring quality.

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Album Review: Shuggie Otis – Inspiration Information / Wings of Love

Thursday, March 7th, 2013

There are many stories in pop music history centering around artists who – for one reason or another — never quite fulfilled their potential. More often than not, those reasons tend to fall into one (or both) of two categories: substance or psychological issues, and/or management that was bad, inept or (at worst) malevolent.

Whatever the particular reason or reasons, Shuggie Otis‘ career stopped in its tracks when he was barely 20. Son of the legendary Johnny Otis – the Greek-American r&b bandleader who often “passed for black” – Shuggie began his career as a young teen, playing guitar in his dad’s band. And young Shuggie was a dizzyingly impressive talent; not only could he spin tasty leads on his electric guitar, but he applied his inventiveness equally between covers – adding new interest to old songs – and his own original material. He also played a wide variety of instruments and sang. His 1970 solo debut Here Comes Shuggie Otis is an overlooked gem, and its opener “Oxford Grey” is an exemplar of Otis’ synthesis of styles.

The man born Johnny Alexander Veliotes, Jr. released a mere three albums in his brief career: after the debut there was the highly-regarded Freedom Flight in 1971, a record that contained his most well-known song, “Strawberry Letter #23” (later a hit for The Brothers Johnson), and then – after a longish break – 1974′s Inspiration Information. But after 1974, no new music has been released by Shuggie Otis. Until now.

In 2013 Epic/Legacy is reissuing Otis’ third and final album, along with an additional disc of material called Wings of Love. This bonus disc contains music that Otis has been working on – true solo material – over the last thirty-nine years.

Inspiration Information
The reissued Inspiration Information is a flawed treasure. While not quite up to the standard of his first two records, it features many ace tracks. The title song (and album opener) sounds very much like Hall & Oates (though of course it’s the other way around). The smooth-yet-funky sounds of “Island Letter” are a treat, and “Sparkle City” sounds like a way-funkier Steely Dan.

On the tantalizingly brief “Happy House,” Otis aims successfully for a sort of r&b answer to Todd Rundgren‘s one man band excursions. And he shows off his ability to mimic other guitarists throughout the record: “Rainy Day” has a Wes Montgomery feel. But while Otis’ interest in (and reliance upon) the Rhythm King – an early drum machine – might have been fascinating on record in the mid 1970s, today it gives the songs a frustratingly unfinished demo-like quality. Even when juxtaposed with soaring string arrangements (as on “Aht Uh Mi Hed”), the clip-clop drum machine sounds detract from the overall quality of the songs. With its lounge organ and effects-laden guitar licks, “XL-30” sounds like a good idea for a song, but it never develops fully into one. Even though “Pling!” has some sultry sax work, the drum machine keeps it from being effective. But the varied “Not Available” wraps the album up in style; when Otis has real drums, the quality of his material seems to rise dramatically.

The bonus track “Miss Pretty” is a funky track that wouldn’t have been out of pace in a blaxploitation film. Another bonus, “Things We Like to Do” is a rarity: an Otis track with drum machine that actually works. The hypnotic percussion blends nicely with some extremely tasty woodwind work and stacked vocals. “Castle Top Jam” feels kinda funky but doesn’t really go anywhere. As a whole, Inspiration Information is a slightly frustrating mix of soaring highs and disappointing lows, but well worth hearing.

Wings of Love
The bonus Wings of Love disc attempts to answer the where’s-Shuggie-been question. And the answer is: somewhere a bit odd, somewhere out of time. “Special” is layered with strange vocal overdubs that upset the flow of the song, and an odd riff that also doesn’t seem to fit: there’s polyrhythm and then there’s this. Fans of Prince might enjoy it, though. The staked guitar leads of “Give Me something Good” are catchy, but in terms of style, the slightly discofied track seems pinned to, say, 1977. The Rhythm King returns on “Tryin’ to Get Close to You,” which is otherwise an effective track featuring some funk-poppin’ bass lines.

“Walkin’ Down the Country” sports a higher level of production values, and finds Otis in a smooth, romantic mood. It’s among the strongest cuts on Wings of Love, and shows that Otis has improved as a singer as he’s grown older. Sprightly horn chart s are juxtaposed with frenetic Rhythm King backing on “Doin’ What’s Right.” With real drums this could have been a contender.

Strings, lovely piano glissandi, gentle plucked/strummed Spanish guitar, and sounds of seagulls paint a lovely aural intro on “Wings of Love.” It’s a terrific track, again subtly echoing Todd Rundgren’s more soulful work.

“Give Me a Chance” and “Don’t You Run Away” sound like a commercial bid circa 1980, with dated synth and guitar sounds. In that context, neither is too bad, but the cuts are not especially memorable. Despite its nth-generation tape dub feel, “Fireball of Love” showcases Shuggie’s guitar work in a funk-shuffle context, with a nice organ bed.

“Fawn” sports a n appealing melody,but could have been done by any number of slick, identikit 80s r&b acts. “If You’d Be Mine” is bogged down with dated synth sounds. But then things change drastically: “Black Belt Sheriff” features Shuggie Otis live onstage with an acoustic guitar; it’s evocative and reminiscent of another long-lost artist, Sixto Rodriguez. The set ends with a commercial-sounding (if highly derivative) number called “Destination You!” Yet again, the cheesy percussion detracts.

Wings of Love would easily qualify as a three-star album had it immediately followed Inspiration Information; as it is, it’s a document of an artist with plenty left to say, but who (as heard on this disc) is saying it using outdated forms. One can hope that its success will lead to new material from Shuggie Otis (currently mounting a tour), and that he’ll get ahold of a real drummer and some modern keyboards to back him up.

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Album Review: Otis Redding – Lonely & Blue

Monday, February 25th, 2013

Released in 1966, Lonely & Blue was perhaps Otis Redding‘s finest collection of songs centering on the heartfelt, pained end of the soul balladeering spectrum. With its trademark packaging design – as distinctive in its own way as the aesthetic of jazz giant Blue Note – the Volt Records release captured everything that made Redding and his label so highly regarded. Right down to the brief liner notes from Detroit deejay Marty Hackman of WDHJ-AM, Lonely & Blue was as fine a time capsule of the whole mid-sixties Stax/Volt vibe as you’ll ever find in a used record bin.

Except, of course, for one small fact: the album Lonely & Blue never existed…until now. It’s a cleverly (and lovingly) crafted pastiche of a 1965-66 LP. The folks at Concord Music Group – curators of much of the Stax/Volt catalogue along with portions of the work of Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, and Tony Bennett (not to mention jazz label catalogs of Fantasy, Riverside and others…they pick well) – have pulled out all the stops to create an album-that-never-was. And the result is one that well should have existed long before now.

Yes, all the packaging and song selection is spot-on. All of the the creativity and imagination lacking in Concord’s recent perfunctory Tony Bennett release As Time Goes By was apparently saved up and expended instead on Lonely & Blue. Even the cover: the art is faux-worn to show the impression of the vinyl record within its sleeve. Of course this art-director’s trick has been used on countless albums before, but here it seems somehow even more apropos.

But in the end, none of this would matter if the music wasn’t superb. Since we’re talking about Otis Redding – quite possibly the greatest soul singer ever to roam this Earth – it’s tough to go wrong. But the compilers worked hard to create a record (yes, a record: Lonely & Blue will be released on limited-edition blue vinyl in addition to the CD and digital versions) that is sequenced to feel like a mid-sixties release. On the down side, that means it’s not stuffed to the 80-minute digital limit with songs; twelve cuts, six per “side.” And in keeping with the theme – emotion-laden ballads – if there are hits, it’s only by coincidence. No “Dock of the Bay” here: as compilation producer David Gorman says, “There are a few hits on the album, but they’re there because they fit the mood, not because we wanted to include the hits.”

The result is that “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” and “Send Me Some Lovin’” sit right alongside lesser-known tracks like an alternate take of “I’ve Got Dreams to Remember.” These are slow-burn songs, not uptempo soul ravers. Thematically unified and full of great music, Lonely & Blue truly is a modern-day rethink of the way to market Redding’s music to the masses. And it poignantly suggests – by design or by coincidence – the marketing approach Stax/Volt might have taken with him had he not died so tragically and prematurely in 1967.

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Album Review: Sam Samudio – Sam, Hard and Heavy

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

“Wooly Bully!” Yes, if you remember pop music of the 1960s – fondly or otherwise – you will recall this garage rockin’ classic. With its wheezing Farfisa organ lines, manic-and-stomping delivery, the biggest hit for Sam “The Sham” and the Pharaohs was all over the radio (#2 on the charts in June 1965). The novelty quality of the song may have obscured the fact that Domingo Samudio (sometimes listed as Zamudio) and his band actually had a number of other good musical ideas; the 1967 compilation The Best of Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs is actually quite a good record all the way through, and is worth tracking down (I have it on vinyl, but then I would).

But the silly nature of some of the group’s songs (“Lil’ Red Riding Hood,” “The Hair on my Chinny Chin Chin”) caused them to not be taken as seriously as they might have liked. The group’s Tex-Mex stylings were certainly closer to Doug Sahm & the Sir Douglas Quintet than to, say, Bubble Puppy or the 13th Floor Elevators, but they deserved more respect than they often got.

Times changed, as times do, and by 1971 Samudio cut a “solo” album under his own name. Titled Sam, Hard and Heavy (no relation to the similarly-titled Paul Revere and the Raiders LP from a few months earlier, Hard ‘N’ Heavy (With Marshmallow)), Samudio’s album enlisted ace players from the Atlantic Records stable. The Memphis Horns provide support on a number of cuts, and Duane Allman(!) plays guitar and/or dobro on two tracks (one is a bonus outtake, a cover of “Me and Bobby McGee”). Memphis legend Jim Dickinson is on hand with his band The Dixie Flyers, and Tom Dowd produces the session. And – oddity of oddities – Sam, Hard and Heavy actually won a Grammy® award for best liner notes. (I dunno about “best,” but they sure are, well, idiosyncratic.)

As is sometimes the case with this, where an artist is backed by ace players, the support team threatens to overwhelm the ostensible front man. “Homework” features an uptempo arrangement and a horn accompaniment that’s nothing short of thrilling. And the understated guitar solo is pretty ace, too. But Samudio sounds as if he’s struggling to keep up with it all. (To be fair, so might you, but then you’re not cutting an LP for Atlantic, are you?)

That’s the case on many of the other cuts as well. “15° Capricorn Asc.” (a Samudio original) chugs along, and Samudio gamely sings his bit (he’s oddly low in the mix throughout most of the record) but one wonders what the late Otis Redding might have done with this often top-shelf material. Mike Utley‘s organ solo is exciting stuff; Samudio eggs him along, with shouts of, “Work it! C’mon! Push!” The Sweet Inspirations are suitably sweet and inspiring on “Lonley Avenue,” and Samudio comes briefly to the fore for a gospel-flavored “I Know It’s too Late/Starchild.” In fact, as the all-star band lets loose on the track, it feels not unlike a Memphis answer to George Harrison‘s sprawling All Things Must Pass sessions.

Sam, Hard and Heavy is no sort of guilty pleasure like Lord Sutch and Heavy Friends; Samudio can sing, whereas Screaming Lord Sutch most certainly could not. But Sam’s album does share that singer-in-over-his-head vibe just a bit. Still, the songs and musicianship on hand make this a must-hear. Real Gone Music is to be commended – as ever – for rescuing another worthy album from undeserved obscurity.

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DVD Review: Ike & Tina on the Road 1971-72

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

If I told you there was a new DVD compiled of a bunch of Ike & Tina Turner‘s home movies, you might well shudder. Thanks to Tina’s biopic What’s Love Got to Do With It, in the minds of a whole generation of potential music fans, Ike Turner is a bad guy, and not much more. Far be it from me to try and dispel that image; by all accounts his relationship with Tina was unhealthy and abusive. But if we can separate the personal from the musical – hell, Michael Jackson fans seem to be able to do so with ease – it’s worth noting just how important a figure in pop music Ike really was.

In any event, a new video titled Ike & Tina: On the Road: 1971-72 does provide a fascinating window into the duo at or near the top of their musical game. Noted rock photojournalist Bob Gruen and his wife Nadya toured with the Turners during that period, and documented all sorts of happenings with a back-and-white video camera (some later footage is in color). There’s a nice assortment of live onstage footage, though to many viewers the quality of those clips will bring the word “bootleg” to mind. But the Ike & Tina Turner Revue was never less than incendiary onstage, and that comes though in these clips, despite any technical shortcomings.

The home-video sections are, to put it plainly, odd. A long segment shows Tina in the kitchen, preparing a meal. While she does it, she tells stories about her daily like. A casual viewer might not even realize that this is the same woman who shakes her thing with abandon onstage; the scene’s humdrum domesticity is at great odds with Tina’s public persona. (Her hair does look like it did onstage; me, I always thought that was a wig.) When Tina ruminates about life for performers after middle age, it’s especially fascinating. More so in light of her subsequent career’s post-Ike second act.

Some of the studio and backstage rehearsal footage is very interesting, as it shows yet another side of Tina, one that’s rarely remarked upon. Her total command of vocal arrangements is on display here; she is shown working through the development of vocal parts for songs, and it’s clear that she knows exactly what she wants, and how to get it.

As was his wont, Ike doesn’t have a lot to say in these clips, either onstage or off. His presence fills the room whenever he’s there, and it’s difficult to know how much of that impression comes from what we’ve subsequently learned about him, or just via the heavy-dudeness that he exudes. There’s a particularly hysterical segment in the video that illustrates this: captured in the most lo-fi manner possible (Gruen pointed his video camera at a television set), we see Ike and Tina perform on Johnny Carson‘s Tonight Show. On the couch after the musical number, Tina goes on and on for several minutes about something or other. Never missing a beat, Johnny interrupts her, leans past her and deadpans to a stonily silent Ike, “Ike, can you keep it down over there?” It’s a classic of comic timing.

The entire video runs about 80 minutes, and productionwise it’s little more than a stringing-together of these various (but all interesting) clips. There’s no narration, nothing in the way of narrative arc; nothing like that at all, in fact. But Ike & Tina: On the Road: 1971-72 is a good mix of fly-on-the-wall cinema vérité dialogue, backstage all-about-the-music work, and onstage fireworks.

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Album Review: Akina Adderley & the Vintage Playboys – Say Yes

Wednesday, November 7th, 2012

From a superficial standpoint, there’s not a huge amount of common stylistic ground between the music of Austin-based Akina Adderley (& the the Vintage Playboys) and Adderley’s grandfather Nat, or with her great uncle Julian “Cannonball” Adderley. But with a peerless musical pedigree such as hers, she can – no, must – be expected at least to possess some serious good taste. And in fact she has plenty of it. On Say Yes, Adderley’s second full length, she trades in the sort of sounds that will be warmly familiar to listeners of such modern-day neo-soul acts as Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings, Fitz & the Tantrums, The City Champs, The Bo-Keys, The New Mastersounds and others in that high quality category.

Backed by a six-piece band plus a horn section, Adderley tears through original material that’s alternatively smoky and upbeat. And the highly accessible people’s music sort of approach favored by her famous forebears is clearly a big part of her musical bag of tricks. “Get Yourself Free” is propulsive and catchy, while “Easy on Me” is a swaying torch song capped by some seriously soulful vocals. The level of musical sophistication and polish (but not slickness) on Say Yes belies Adderley’s relatively short time in the music business. But Adderley’s no neophyte; she sounds as if she’s been doing this her whole life (and she may well have). The band provides stellar support, adding some nice decoration throughout without getting in the way of their front woman.

Tagging Adderley and her band as a soul act does them a slight disservice; they fold plenty of r&b into their sound, and on tracks like “Not Mine” they even serve up the sort of smooth jazz-pop that will attract those who like Sade or Steely Dan. And “Bumble Bee” features rock guitar combined with Memphis-styled horn work. The fretless bass and electric piano-based arrangement of “Savannah” show that Adderley and her band can take the subtle approach with confidence. “Attitude” has a Latin flavor, and the spare “Take it Back” closes the album on an intimate note.

At press time, the band’s web site listed only local Austin show dates, but I expect that will change by the time of the official release date for Say Yes.

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