I love the sound of a Hammond B3 doing a slow-boil under the bluesy guitar of Grant Green or Kenny Burrell, or wrapped around a warm, soulful sax.  But there’s a thin line between the best of these recordings and pure schmaltz, which is probably why the organ combo remains a criminally ignored sub-genre of American roots music.

The Hammond organ was invented in 1934 by mechanical engineer Laurens Hammond, who also invented the technology behind 3-D glasses (maybe he was a numerologist too).  And his namesake instrument was destined to remain a staple at churches, hockey rinks and old-timey movie theaters until Jimmy Smith transformed it into the “new sound of jazz” back in the 1950s.

Jimmy recorded for the Blue Note label, which found itself in a bit of a rut after a string of jazz albums that didn’t exactly light up the charts.  Upon hearing Smith for the first time at a New York City jazz club, the label’s mercurial front man, Alfred Lion, decided right then and there to sign him.  Lion eventually confessed that he wanted to sell the label to become Smith’s tour manager, just so he could hear him play every night.

Smith quickly revitalized the label by taking advantage of the new LP format with extended workouts like his take on Dizzy Gillespie’s The Champ… The Champ

At this point, it would be useful to explain that Smith is playing intricate bebop figures on top with his right hand, chording with the left, and kicking out a rock-solid bass with the instrument’s foot pedals.  So essentially, all Smith needed to fill a small club with a wall of sound was a drummer – but he created the classic B3 trio by adding a guitar, with that chair initially held by the very capable Thornel Schwartz.

But my favorite Jimmy Smith recordings are the ones that create a smoky, late-night vibe, usually with the exceptional Kenny Burrell on guitar and Stanley Turrentine on sax.  And classics like “Back at the Chicken Shack,” “Midnight Special” and “Home Cookin’” still serve as the gold standards for those who prefer the “less is more” approach.  Listen to Burrell’s perfect hand-off to Turrentine on Midnight Special… Midnight Special

Inspired by Smith’s success, many other keyboard players jumped on the B3 bandwagon and recorded their own soul-jazz classics during the ‘50s through ‘70s – most notably, “Brother” Jack McDuff, Richard “Groove” Holmes, Shirley Scott and Dr. Lonnie Smith.  Here’s McDuff jamming with a young George Benson on guitar, before Benson moved on to his own unique brand of pop-schmaltz… Scuffin’

Even jazz greats like Gene Ammons and Sonny Stitt decided they’d had enough of half-full jazz clubs and abandoned more traditional acoustic bands in favor of organ-driven soul-jazz.  And one of the finest examples of the genre features Ammons and Stitt trading riffs on this standout cut from 1971… You Talk That Talk

The organist on this cut is Leon Spencer, one of the unsung heroes of the instrument.  And his experience underscores the thin line I alluded to earlier.  Back in the day, guys like Spencer, Don Patterson, Charles Kynard, Sonny Phillips and other more obscure artists played their fair share of inner-city clubs in places like Detroit and Newark, where getting asses on the dance floor was just as important as getting your own stuff across to a new audience.  And even the best organ combo records I’ve picked up over the years have at least one tune that sounds like a second-rate version of a pop or soul standard.  Here’s Spencer cookin’ up one of his fine originals… First Gravy

And here’s Spencer toying with a watered-down version of Marvin Gaye’s Mercy Mercy Me… Mercy Mercy Me

Hey, I’m not going to begrudge anyone trying to make a decent living – but I’ll take Gravy over reheated Motown any day of the week.

If there is such a thing as a desert-island organ combo playlist, it would have at least four or five cuts with Grant Green on guitar and Big John Patton on organ.  And it would lead off with this little slice of soul-jazz nirvana from “Got a Good Thing Goin,’” a 1966 Blue Note release (the disc’s second tune, Soul Woman, is just as good)… The Yodel

On these and other cuts by accomplished players like Green and Patton, you get the overwhelming attitude that “yeah, I can burn my way through any jazz standard you throw at me… but this is what I really want to play.”

The organ combo is far from finished.  Just pick up a recent release by Medeski, Martin & Wood or even Texas blues guitar great Jimmie Vaughan, who seems to always find a way to sneak an organ-driven instrumental into the mix.  In interviews, Vaughan has expressed his admiration of Gene Ammons and other soul-jazz giants – and his own band features Bill Willis, a former house bassist for Cincinnati’s legendary King Records who learned how to play organ from Mr. Honky Tonk himself, Bill Doggett.  On this cut from Vaughan’s first solo CD, Willis uses his left hand to play bass notes on the B3… Tilt A Whirl

I’ll leave you with this cut from Medeski, Martin & Wood’s third release, “Friday Afternoon in the Universe,” from back in 1995.  If you ever find yourself kicking back with a cocktail at the space station, you definitely want to slap this one on the interplanetary hi-fi… The Lover

Blue Note Soul-Jazz Album Covers… A few favorites:

The Doctor is In… Couldn’t resist adding this youtube video of a resplendent Dr. Lonnie Smith plying his craft on the B3… I like how he dives down to play a bass solo on the foot pedals with his hands.  He may be a Doctor, but he’s not above engaging in a little schtick!

Break out the Champipple!  Our fledgling operation is celebrating its 10th post with an “Editors’ Pick” from blogcritics.org for this little number on Nick Hornby’s new book — a good excuse to revisit the late, great Lowell George.

Several people suggested I read “Juliet, Naked” by Nick Hornby.  And now I’m worried, because one of the main characters in this bittersweet and often hilarious novel is an obsessive-compulsive music blogger.

The story focuses on a couple living in Gooleness, a sad, rundown town on the coast of England – sort of a “Canton by the Sea” (Clevelanders: feel free to substitute Akron for Canton).  Duncan is the ringleader of an art-damaged internet community obsessed with the life and music of a long-lost American rock artist, Tucker Crowe.  Annie is director of a museum few people visit and struggles to find meaning in her relationship with Duncan.

Annie has come to realize that Duncan’s fixation on every little detail involving Crowe’s life has gone far beyond anyone’s idea of normal.  She admires the artist, but couldn’t care less about various “shrines” to Crowology – including a restroom in Minneapolis – that the couple visit on a trip to the states.

Trouble arrives in the form of an “unplugged” version of Crowe’s masterwork, “Juliet,” which Duncan receives from a press agent eager to generate a little publicity for an eventual release.  Duncan believes the acoustic version, “Juliet, Naked,” surpasses the well-documented majesty of the original.  And he quickly posts a fawning review of “Naked,” mainly to bolster his status among his blog-followers as lord and master over all things Crowe.

Annie, on the other hand, smells bullshit… and her completely different take on “Naked” (which she posts on the same blog) alienates Duncan while winning over the reclusive Crowe, a determined dropout who is both amused and annoyed by his misguided fans.

Hornby uses sharp dialogue, filled with honesty and wit, to get us to really care about his characters — especially Annie and Crowe as they develop a long-distance relationship based on a shared desire to get on with their lives.  And, as he did in “High Fidelity,” Hornby perfectly captures the whole subculture of music nerds and collectors of which I’m painfully familiar.

Tucker Crowe is Hornby’s best conceit, giving us the opportunity to fill in the name of any artist, dead or alive, who has ever been fussed over by a cult following, virtual or otherwise.  And there’s a long list to choose from – Nick Drake, Richard Thompson, Joni Mitchell, Paul Westerberg, Jeff Buckley, Eva Cassidy, Alex Chilton, and on and on.

The Fat Man… Although “Juliet, Naked” is a good read, as they say, it made me a little squeamish as I recalled some of my own music-nerd moments back in my younger days (I’ll date myself by calling it the post-hippie, pre-punk Seventies), when I followed every move of Lowell George and his band Little Feat.  Basically, Little Feat is what happens when a slightly deranged singer-songwriter from L.A. combines his love of Chess blues with the funky rhythms of New Orleans and the Meters.

Aside from being a great singer and slide guitarist (and a pretty mean harp player to boot), George was a true original as a lyricist.  He didn’t write songs as much as come up with oddly memorable words and phrases that seemed to work perfectly with the music… Sailin’ Shoes

Little Feat’s high water mark was in the early-‘70s, when George was still firmly in charge of the band.  On albums like “Sailin’ Shoes” and “Dixie Chicken,” all of George’s strengths are on display and undeniable – especially on the title songs and cuts like Fat Man in the Bathtub, Cold Cold Cold, Trouble, Willin’ and Allen Toussaint’s On Your Way Down.  “Dixie Chicken” even features a pretty decent tune called Juliette… although it doesn’t hold up as well today as the others.

I even like “The Last Record Album,” where the tension between George’s earthier instincts began to clash with the rest of his band’s longing to sound more like jazz-fusion juggernaut Weather Report.  Here’s George with his usual deft touch on Long Distance Love… Long Distance Love

And here’s the rest of the band gettin’ freaky with their bad synths on Day or Night… Day or Night

As this last cut might suggest, things went straight downhill for Little Feat after that, and eventually George decided to go it alone and put the focus squarely on his singing on the fairly straightforward album “Thanks, I’ll Eat It Here.”

Maybe George had a Crowe-like moment and decided that he’d had enough of crazy fans trying to extract layers of meaning from his surreal lyrics.  Or maybe his band mates just got tired of his worsening drug problem.  But unlike Crowe, he didn’t “go gentle into that good night.”

I had the pleasure of seeing George on his last tour in 1979.  He stopped at Bogart’s in Cincinnati with a terrific band – probably session guys from L.A., but they all seemed excited to play old-school rock ‘n soul with a rejuvenated George.  The show was much more satisfying than a Little Feat concert I’d seen a few years before.  He was in fine form – although clearly overweight – and it was great to hear the band blast away all the production sheen from the songs on his solo album.

A week later, George died of a massive heart attack – right after he performed the same show at George Washington University in D.C.  And in that grand showbiz tradition, he left us all wanting more.

Dixie Chicken

Since Brother Jack did such a great job of taking us down to New Orleans in his last post on James Booker, I decided to stay there – and offer up a few of my favorite examples of Crescent City Soul.

The history of New Orleans R&B is filled with characters like Roy Montrell – incredibly talented musicians who kept the tradition alive but received little or no recognition for their efforts.  Montrell played on countless sides during his 20-some years as a session guitarist and toured with New Orleans elite, including Fats Domino.  But he only recorded two singles under his own name.  My first pick makes the case that they should’ve kept the tape running a lot longer…  It features some of the Crescent City’s best players – including the great Earl Palmer on drums and the one-two punch of Red Tyler (baritone) and Lee Allen (tenor) on saxes.  Don’t let the title fool you… (Every Time I Hear) That Mellow Saxophone is a masterpiece of manic energy. (Every Time I Hear) That Mellow Saxophone

Even casual fans of the New Orleans tradition are aware of Dr. John’s legacy as a first-rate piano player, soulful singer and conjurer of dark spirits.  But few know that the man who started his career as Mac Rebennack was an equally dangerous guitar player with a slashing style.  (In his highly entertaining autobiography, “Under a Hoodoo Moon: The Life of Dr. John the Night Tripper,” Rebennack notes that he switched to piano after someone shot the ring finger on his left hand.)   The best of Rebennack’s guitar-driven singles, along with a few other novelties, can be found on “Medical School: The Early Sessions of Mac ‘Dr. John’ Rebennack” on the Music Club label.  Listen to him work out on the aptly titled Storm Warning… Storm Warning

The legendary Professor Longhair cast a long shadow over every Crescent City keyboard player who fell under his spell (although he may have been outdone by the ridiculously talented James Booker).  Thankfully, we can find many examples of his masterful playing on a number of releases, including a fine anthology on Rhino.  But I keep coming back to a classic version of Big Chief, recorded in 1964 at the studio of famed New Orleans engineer Cosimo Matassa.  Oddly enough, this tough-as-nails single features Dr. John on guitar and relegates an even better guitar player, Earl King, to the role of “whistler” – while Longhair sounds a little buried under the stabbing horns.  But it all works… and it’s hard to find better examples of what n’yawlins rhythm is all about… Big Chief

The easiest way to describe the Meters is “Booker T & the MGs filtered through New Orleans”… but it doesn’t begin to capture the essence of a band that churned out one monstrous groove after another during an incredible run from 1965 to 1977.  Although singer and keyboard player Art Neville went on to join his brothers in forming the city’s most famous family band, he continues to perform today with other original Meters in various lineups.  But their output from the late ‘60s to the early ‘70s is like raw meat to the world’s greatest rhythm sections – the stuff you dive into when you’ve had your fill of the rest.  Listen to how guitar player Leo Nocentelli teases the beat on this funky little gem from 1969. Cardova

In 2005, Nonesuch Records released “Our New Orleans,” a post-Katrina benefit to raise funds for the relief efforts of Habitat for Humanity.  It featured newly recorded songs by a number of musicians identified with the New Orleans sound, including the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Allen Toussaint and Eddie Bo.  But my favorite cut is by the Queen of Crescent City Soul, Irma Thomas.  She’s been covered by artists ranging from the Rolling Stones (Time Is On My Side) to Norah Jones (Ruler Of My Heart, backed by the Dirty Dozen).  Although bowed by a music biz doesn’t seem to have much use for a 68-year-old R&B legend, Irma is far from broken.  She remains one of New Orleans’ most vital artists — as evidenced by her emotional take on this original by a prescient Bessie Smith.  Back Water Blues

Although famous for his hit Working in a Coal Mine, Lee Dorsey recorded far-funkier sides during his 25-year career – usually under the production of New Orleans renaissance man Allen Toussaint.  And, like virtually every other artist in this list, Dorsey kept cranking out one gem after another while remaining virtually unnoticed by the music industry.  But he’s making a posthumous comeback, with the Obama Nation and several indie rockers adopting his classic anthem Yes We Can Can (written by Toussaint) as a tribute to the power of positive thinking.  But I’m partial to the deep groove laid down by – who else – the Meters on a song from 1970 that seems like a raw prelude to Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On. Who’s Gonna Help Brother Get Further

The New Orleans sound continues to evolve, thanks to artists like drummer Stanton Moore.  He’d already mastered the city’s highly syncopated rhythms by the time he formed Galactic in 1994 – another jam-band with a rabid following.  And he’s a restless innovator who seems to jump from one lineup of musicians to another at the drop of a drumstick.  But the recordings he’s made under his own name seem a little closer to the root, and I love the way he turns the tradition inside out on this cut from “Flyin’ the Coop.”  It also features Chris Wood from Medeski, Martin & Wood, as well as a sampled chant from the Wild Magnolias Mardi Gras Indians.  Modern New Orleans music doesn’t get much better than this… Fallin’ Off the Floor

Dr. John with the Baby Dolls at Mardi Gras, 2008 (Photos: James Quine)

Brother Jack takes us from the Rubber City down to New Orleans — home of the world’s greatest piano players and the gonzo king who ruled them all, James Booker.  Jack also gives us a few basic tips on how to play like Booker.

Growing up in Akron, there wasn’t much chance to hear live jazz piano, but Dad had some records.  Not the spacey bop stuff.  He listened to players like Erroll Garner who had a strong sense of melody.  This was a style I could relate to… On the Sunny Side of the Street

One guy who played locally, Pat Pace, was a major talent with a singular style.  I used to get real close to watch him play, wondering what the heck he was doing, until he would give me that “get lost” stare.  At one gig, he transformed a classical piece — Pavane for a Dead Princess by Ravel — into a jazz improvisation.  It was stunning.

Our uncle Joe lived in New York City.  He claimed it was the best place to hear jazz piano.  Joe’s favorite was Dave McKenna, who was quoted as saying “I play saloon piano — I like to stay close to the melody.”

Fats with the Fab Four

New York was the epicenter of jazz piano, but New Orleans was home of an engaging style closer to the roots of jazz.  You could hear it in the pop music of the day, most notably Fats Domino.  If you were listening closely to everything on the charts, your ears might have perked up to the organ solo recorded in 1960 in New Orleans by a 20-year-old James Booker on a funky single, Gonzo. Gonzo

The song hit the charts in November and remained there for seven weeks.  This was two years before the organ-driven Green Onions by Booker T & the MGs was a huge hit.  The word “gonzo” wasn’t used to describe the journalism of Hunter S. Thompson until 1970… Booker was ahead of the curve.

Booker was a great organist, but he is best known for his piano playing.  Actually, what you thought was Fats Domino playing piano on a record might have been Booker.  Fats was too busy touring to spend much time in the studio, so Booker would lay down the piano tracks and have them ready for Fats to add the vocals to when he got back to town.  Booker also toured posing as New Orleans legend Huey “Piano” Smith because the real Smith hated to tour.

I just missed seeing Booker live.  I was in New Orleans around 1981 when I heard that an incredible player had a regular gig at the Maple Leaf Bar.  I had to go and hear that.  Unfortunately, I heard nothing.  Nothing that I can remember.  The Booker I saw was dazed and confused.  The man playing was not Booker, but the remains of Booker after a life of drugs and alcohol.  He died shortly after that of liver failure in 1983.

When I finally picked up a Booker CD, I was amazed.  What took me so long to find him?  Here was the music I was looking for.  Here was the master of the New Orleans piano tradition, and a lot more.  He loved Erroll Garner and knew his solos by heart.   Here is his take on Sunny Side of the Street.  Compare it with the clip above and you can hear the influence of Garner.  But also hear this:  Garner has a bass and drums; Booker is playing solo and keeping the rhythm with a powerful left-hand stride. Booker Street

Booker could play so it sounded like two pianos.  By himself, he could juggle as many riffs as the boogie-woogie duo Albert Ammons and Pete Johnson pounded out together.

As you would expect from a New Orleans pianist, he had Professor Longhair down.  But his other influences put him beyond that.  He was classically trained and had a big repertoire of classical pieces that he could play.  In performance he improvised on them in the New Orleans style.  Here he stretches out on Chopin’s Minute Waltz in an improvisation he called the Black Minute Waltz. Black Minute Waltz

Among his influences was Liberace, that popular pianist and showman that piano players loved to hate but secretly wished they could play like.  Liberace would string together medleys in an entertaining fashion and could morph chopsticks into Franz Liszt in just a few bars.

Booker had memorized Liberace solos, and the influence is clear in the way he would string medleys together such as Blues Minuet/Until The Real Thing Comes Along/Baby Won’t You Please Come Home from his album “Junco Partner.”  On this album he plays an affectionate rendition of the Liberace theme song I’ll be Seeing You.

Listen to the manic intro… I’ll Be Seeing You

No discussion of Booker would be complete without a mention of his singing, which was great.  His crackly vocals gave an emotional edge to songs that a more refined performance might lack.  Here’s a perfect example of Booker’s unique vocal style… Black Night

The high point in Booker’s career was his European tour in 1977 and 1978, including an appearance in ’78 at the Montreux International Jazz Festival.  Recordings made during one of the trips were issued on “New Orleans Piano Wizard: Live!” which won the French Grad Prix de Disque de Jazz as best live album.  When Booker was feeling down, he would listen to the enthusiastic applause from this album to lift his spirits.  But although he flourished in Europe, he remained widely unappreciated in the U. S.  And the lure of drugs was something he could not escape from on this side of the pond.

Want to play like Booker?  There is help.  The Joshua Paxton transcriptions published by Hal Leonard are excellent, and the introduction is a great analysis of the Booker style.  Since I have tried to play them I will offer some hard-earned advice.  Play lightly.  Bounce your fingers on the keys.  Use the transcription as your guide, but remember that not all notes are of equal importance.  Listen to the recordings.   It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.  And remember, you’ll never play as good as James Booker.

Finally, here is a youtube video of a performance from the European Tour.  Booker plays a composition of his own, Pixie.  Notice the impassive calm in his face as he rolls off one intricate riff after another.  Notice how his hands barely move.  No flying hands a la Liberace.  So many notes with seeming ease.  And then notice the delight expressed by the crowd at the end.  Here they had found the true master.

Strung Out for the Holidays… Times are still tough, especially here in Northeast Ohio.  If you can find a way to give during this holiday season, think about donating to your local foodbank.  And, if you live in the Rubber City, musician Ryan Humbert has an offer you can’t refuse:  join him and his 13-piece acoustic band on Saturday, December 12, at the historic Civic Theater for a special holiday-themed show benefitting the Akron Canton Regional Foodbank.  Tickets are $20 reserved ($15 group reserved) and $15 general admission.  For more information, go here.

Dear Tim:  I can appreciate your interest in long-deceased artists, but when are you going to start writing about real living, breathing musicians – preferably those who don’t qualify for AARP?  Also, your posts are too long.  Don’t you know that young folks can only process information in small, twitter-sized bites?  You’re just like your mama Jane, trying to feed people too much in one sitting.  And another thing…

OK, I really didn’t receive this comment.  But I expect to get something like it any minute, so I decided it was time to prove that I have a few songs in my library that were recorded some time after 1972.

Contrary to what my friends think, I don’t listen to dead blues guys on a daily basis (although John Lee Hooker seems to work well on Mondays).  In fact, I practically beg family members – mostly nephew Dan and brother James – to send me recent stuff that would meet my high standards for iPod-worthiness.  Then again, I’m constantly surprised when I shuffle through the 20,000+ songs on my iPod… How the hell did Boxcar Willie get on there?

Based on these and other idle ramblings, I offer you my Top Six Picks (because 10 would be too many) of recently recorded songs that have earned a spot on my “heavy rotation” playlist – and therefore should be required listening in schools and workplaces throughout the nation.

I confess that I didn’t know a thing about Raphael Saadiq before his 2008 release, “The Way I See It.”  I’d heard of his first band, Tony! Toni! Tone!, mainly because it was fun to say.  But now he really has my attention, thanks to the neo-soul groove of 100 Yard Dash.  You could argue that most of “The Way I See It” is just a slavish reproduction of the Motown sound, and I probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight.  But I’ll challenge anyone who questions the integrity of 100 Yard Dash – a song that seems to live in some R&B utopia, far from the land of auto-tune and automated beats. 100 Yard Dash

I had the great pleasure of meeting the Heartless Bastards when they opened for The Black Keys at a couple of sold-out shows earlier this year at Terminal 5 in NYC.  Dan and Pat brought the Big Apple to its knees – but I loved watching the Bastards win over about 5,000 jaded New Yorkers with their relentless, rootsy drive and the powerful voice of little Erika Wennerstrom, the pride of Dayton, Ohio.  James and I were so impressed, we even schlepped their equipment!  Here’s one of two standout cuts on their latest release “The Mountain” (to fully appreciate what these Bastards are all about, play the opening of the title song at maximum volume… after you buy it here, of course).  And credit goes to Pat Carney for hooking up the Heartless Bastards with the Fat Possum label. Out at Sea

How does one describe the Wood Brothers?  Americana?  Too narrow.  Folk?  Nah.  Blues?  A little.  Maybe it’s just a soulful mix of everything that’s right about American roots music – from the Stanley Brothers to Mississippi John Hurt to a hundred other streams running from the same deep river.  It’s hard to believe these two guys hail from Boulder (no offense, Caroline!)… They sound like they grew up in some backwoods cabin in the deep south.  Chris is the bassist for the futuristic organ combo Medeski, Martin & Wood, and Oliver cut his teeth playing in Atlanta blues bands.  Together, they’re a brother band with a bad attitude – and dark secrets that even the Louvin Brothers wouldn’t think of sharing (and they killed the Knoxville Girl!).  “Sometimes the tip of my tongue is the barrel of a gun, and it’s loaded”… I think we’ve all been there. Loaded

You can always count on the U.K. for new rock bands with lots of swagger, like the Duke Spirit.  I just missed their steamy set at one of those mega music festivals earlier this year, but came back home with their new release, “Neptune.”  My teenage daughter quickly ran off with it… but not before I had a chance to sneak this little slice of nasty onto my own iPod, where it seems to live comfortably with Link Wray, Morphine, the Cramps and other masters of menace.  The Duke Spirit’s main attraction is their mighty frontwoman, Liela Moss.  She may owe a small debt to the Rubber City’s Chrissie Hynde, but she makes a very big statement of her own on The Step and The Walk.  The Step and The Walk

My vote for one of last year’s best albums – “With Blasphemy So Heartfelt” by Jessica Lea Mayfield – won some positive notice in the music press, but not as much as I thought it would.  I’d argue that Jessica, who started recording “Blasphemy” at Dan’s Akron Analog studio when she was only 15, is misunderstood by many of her peers.  Her voice is timeless, colored by the deep, lonesome twang of hard country (she started performing with her family’s bluegrass band at the age of 8).  And twang ain’t exactly what the indie nation wants to hear.  I think Jessica is poised for much bigger things… as soon as she finds the right audience.  In the meantime, I’ll just keep listening to this perfect opening to “Blasphemy.”  Kiss Me Again

Latin soul, done right, is a beautiful thing.  Salsa, meringue, Afro-Cuban, rumba, even that funky boogaloo that Fania Records put out in the ‘60s…  I’m no expert on the many forms of Latin music, but I know what I like – and I’m definitely sold on “San Sebastian 152” by Bronx River Parkway.  BRP’s myspace page notes that the project brought the New York-based band together with “a crew of legendary salsa musicians that make their home in San Juan.”  The album was recorded with old-school equipment in a 200-year-old former ballet school in Puerto Rico.  It’s another classic melding of soul and salsa – with the kind of propulsive rhythms that ruled the dancefloors of New York City during the reign of El Rey del Timbal, Tito Puente. Agua Con Sal

Bonus track… This one was sent in from Santa Rosa, CA, where the Aces seem to have a fresh take on the blues (one song ends with a blast of sitar!).  They do it “Hound Dog” style… no bass — just two guitars, a drummer and a pretty fine harp player blowin’ like mad on top.  I’d like to catch these guys at a roadhouse bar on a Saturday night — maybe I should book a flight!  Find out more at acesfan.com. Shed Some Light On Me

I used to spend countless hours combing record stores (remember those?) for rare blues and R&B.  On one such occasion, I was convinced that the ganja-impaired proprietor was playing one of his favorite albums at 45 RPM instead of 33… and I told him so.  He solemnly handed me a curious-looking Japanese import – a compilation of “country and western” tunes that featured a couple of guys named Jimmy Bryant and Speedy West.  And I was off on another quest to learn more about the great, forgotten heroes of American music.

Turns out, the record store DJ had it right… It’s just that my ears refused to process the sounds I was hearing as genuine recordings of real musicians playing real instruments in real time, without any studio gimmicks or special effects.  Which only gave me greater respect for the unique talents of Bryant and West.  How could two guys – one on electric guitar and the other on pedal steel – combine such blazing speed and sheer musicality?  Case in point… Stratosphere Boogie

A little background… Guitarist Ivey “Jimmy” Bryant was born in Moultrie, Georgia, in 1925.  His father’s modest skills as a sharecropper had little influence on his son – but the elder Bryant made an impression in other areas, especially with his musical ability (he was proficient on several instruments), his bad temper and his love of the bottle.

At the age of 18, the younger Bryant joined the army of General George Patton and was severely injured by a grenade in 1945 during the invasion of Germany.  With little to do during his recovery, Bryant used the time to learn how to play guitar and fiddle – and further honed his skills in USO clubs after the war.  He eventually moved to Los Angeles to take advantage of the city’s growing reputation as a hub of country and hillbilly music.

Wesley “Speedy” West had a more stable upbringing in Springfield, Missouri, where his father worked at a gospel publishing company and played guitar.  Young Wesley learned how to play the Hawaiian guitar at the age of nine and soon earned some notice after winning a prize at a school-sponsored talent contest (he got his nickname from a local DJ).  While still in his teens, he worked in a machine gun factory during World War II and eventually started farming and playing local gigs to support his wife, Opal, and son, Donnie.  Like Byrant, he felt the lure of California, so he packed up the family and survived a “Grapes of Wrath”-like journey to land in Los Angeles in 1946.

While Bryant was playing in local dives, West was gaining notice among the city’s great western swing bands – and he eventually joined a 23-piece outfit led by Spade Cooley.  Already an established name, West met Bryant at one of L.A.’s skid-row music joints in 1948.  The two quickly formed a mutual admiration society and began a musical partnership that reached its peak in the studios of L.A.-based Capitol Records.

Given West’s near-reckless approach to the pedal steel guitar, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he recorded with the king of the novelty music craze in the 1940s and early ‘50s, Spike Jones.  But the instrumentals that Speedy cut with Jimmy Bryant from 1950 to 1956 on Capitol Records are far more sublime than ridiculous (for the most part) and are widely regarded as little works of art by some of today’s greatest pickers. Speedin’ West

I like to think of the Bryant/West instrumentals as part of a very American take on the famous recordings by legendary Belgian guitarist Django Reinhardt (whose dazzling runs inspired Bryant) and his usual foil, violinist Stephane Grappelli – sort of a Hot Club of L.A. instead of France.  Reinhardt and Grappelli were simply burning their way through the show tunes and standards of the era (along with a few fine originals, like Django’s memorable Nuages).  If anything, the standard arrangements served as launching pads for all the fireworks that followed – mere excuses for Reinhardt and Grappelli to trade incredible solos that still stand the test of time… Sheik of Araby

Bryant and West gave themselves a little more freedom by creating their own vehicles for improvisation – songs like Frettin’ Fingers, Swingin’ on the Strings and Speedin’ West.  Sure, when you strip away the solos, the basic song structures are just as cornball as Dinah and Sweet Georgia Brown.  But Bryant/ West give Le Hot Club de France a run for its money on workouts like this one… China Boy

And let’s not forget the many sessions where Bryant and West backed up early-Fifties hit-makers like Tennessee Ernie Ford, Gene Autry, and Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.  Before you start scoffing at that short list of Hollywood cowpokes, let me give you some aural evidence that Bryant and West didn’t screw around in the studio – no matter who they were supporting (the first edit is Speedy’s solo, then Jimmy’s)… I’m Hog Tied Over You/Tennessee Ernie Ford & Ella Mae Morse

The advent of rock ‘n roll and other musical trends weren’t kind to Bryant and West.  Bryant’s playing always danced on the edge, and he had little patience for following anyone’s direction in the studio or bending to the conventions of Nashville.  He recorded a few jazz-based originals before drifting into obscurity in the 1960s and ‘70s.  A lifelong smoker, Bryant died of lung cancer in 1980.  West kept himself busy with some studio work and eventually took a job in Tulsa as a warehouse manager for Fender Musical Instruments.  After suffering a stroke in 1981, he never played again, and finally succumbed to chronic health problems in 2003.

Today, Bryant and West are recognized as pioneers on their respective instruments – with Bryant among the first guitarists to master the Fender Telecaster and West an “early adapter” of the pedal steel.  Sadly, only a small handful of their recordings together are available on iTunes, and two exceptional compilations of their Fifties instrumentals – “Stratosphere Boogie” and “Swingin’ on the Strings,” both on the Razor & Tie label – appear to be out of print (someone correct me if I’m wrong).  But those CDs are still available on amazon – get ‘em before they’re gone for good!

Two fine videos on youtube… The first shows West and Bryant together on the Hometown Jamboree, a country-western show that aired every Saturday night in Los Angeles (1949-1959) on KTLA-TV (turn up the sound on this one).

The second is someone’s loving tribute to The Night Rider — I don’t normally care for these homemade slideshow/video re-creations on youtube, but this one’s pure genius.  It seems to capture the mood of the country, back when Speedy and Jimmy roamed the streets of L.A

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