The Ohio Players

This is really just a cheap excuse to share a few samples of some pretty cool tunes I’ve been listening to lately. So if you’re one of those Northern Soul nuts from the UK, don’t expect me to illuminate you on stuff that you don’t already own.

But I can’t help but feel we’re in the midst of a major soul music revival in the U.S. – and since RCR’s research team is currently on vacation, I can only point to a few pieces of second-hand or anecdotal evidence. (If you’re one of our faithful readers, you already know that this is the last place you’d go to calibrate your barometers of hip.)

The first is an article in the New York Times from 2007, which reported that soul music is back with a vengeance. So if I recalculate for Flyoverland and adjust for the paper’s previous inaccuracies, I can say without qualification that the soul music revival may or may not arrive here by 2015.

Aloe Blacc

The second is the theme song to a great new series on HBO: “How To Make It In America.”  My daughter turned me on to the show, which is sort of the NYC equivalent of “Entourage,” but without its constant references to celebrity/showbiz drivel. “Make It” has a lot going for it – a couple of winning lead actors (Bryan Greenberg and Victor Rasuk), crisp writing, sharp images of street life in Manhattan and Brooklyn… And any show that features the luscious Lake Bell and character actor Luis Guzman – not to mention Cleveland native Kid Cudi in a nice supporting role – gets on my preferred list right away.

Back to the music… The theme song, I Need a Dollar, is by Aloe Blacc, an LA native of Panamanian heritage. And it’s an outstanding example of contemporary soul with an ear to the past. In fact, I thought it was recorded in the Seventies until I did a little digging to find out otherwise. And judging from some of the online chatter I’ve come across, the song is probably generating a little more buzz than the show itself (which still hasn’t been greenlighted for a second season on HBO… Don’t make me send the RCR Nation to your doorstep, HBO programmers!). I Need A Dollar/Aloe Blacc

Exhibit C involves a trip I made a few nights ago to a local watering hole. Now the Rubber City’s a lot of things, but trendsetting probably isn’t one of them (unless you count Devo, Chrissie Hynde, The Black Keys, LeBron James and the invention of the zipper). Still, I couldn’t help but notice – beyond the fact that I was easily the oldest person in the room – that the relative youngsters in the bar were listening to vintage soul music, and digging it! I can’t tell you that this same scene is being played out in bars around the country (I’m not allowed to travel out of state). But I have to say this makes me feel slightly less depressed about the future of today’s youth.

I also have a strong hunch that there’s a lot of first-rate soul music out there that remains buried or very hard to find, maybe more so than any other genre. And some of these tunes sound like they sprang from the rich catalogs of Stax-Volt and Motown instead of some obscure label in Nashville.

It could have something to do with the proliferation of smaller, independent studios as recording technology became more widely available and affordable in the Sixties and Seventies – places like Malaco in Jackson, Mississippi, where aspiring, road-tested soul performers could go and spend some gig money to record fairly decent “vanity” projects, either with their own bands or local musicians. It could also have a lot to do with the gospel tradition and the churches, which served as kind of a farm system for up-and-coming talent.

Whatever the reason, I feel like I’m just scratching the surface of America’s greatest musical export… and I could easily spend the rest of my life being surprised by the quality of stuff out there that you can only find in someone’s lettuce crate at a flea market. But my crate-diving days are over, so I’ll continue to count on the kindness of relatives and friends to bring me the goods.

Thankfully, some of these gems are showing up on recent collections like Rhino’s “What It Is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves.” And one of my favorite cuts on that 4-CD set is the tune Fairchild, written and produced by Allen Toussaint and performed by the relatively unknown Willie West. It was released on the New York-based Josie label in 1970, but it features the fearsome rhythm section of The Meters from New Orleans. I’m not sure what happened to West, who plays acoustic guitar on Fairchild. But it’s a shame he didn’t put out more cuts like this one – a prime slab of southern soul. Fairchild/Willie West

Here’s another tune written and produced by Toussaint (let’s just agree this guy is an American icon). It’s sung by Zilla Mayes, who recorded a few R&B sides on the Mercury label before unleashing this minor soul masterpiece in 1969 on SSS International, based in Nashville. I’ll thank nephew Dan for turning me on to this one… All I Want Is You/Zilla Mayes

Some of you may be familiar with Johnny “Guitar” Watson’s slick funk hits, like Ain’t That A Bitch and A Real Mother For Ya. Others might prefer his legendary blues recordings on the RPM label in the mid-‘50s – amp-melting workouts like She Moves Me, Hot Little Mama and Too Tired (if you don’t have those in your collection, leave the site now and go get them… we’ll wait for you). But Johnny went through a little transition period in the early-‘70s when he recorded a couple of albums for the Fantasy label – home of Creedence Clearwater Revival and whole slew of straight-ahead jazz acts. Although clearly in the soul/funk vein, Johnny’s Fantasy recordings never stray too far from the down-home blues that he perfected on the streets of Houston. Check out his patented, stinging attack on this cut from “Listen”: Why Don’t You Treat Me Like I’m You’re Man/Johnny “Guitar” Watson

Even a well-regarded soul label like Stax-Volt had a few treasures buried in the vaults. Carla Thomas scored big with hits like Gee Whiz and B-A-B-Y, but this tune easily tops both of those with a deep soul groove that only Steve Cropper, Donald “Duck” Dunn and Al Jackson Jr. could deliver. It’s from the appropriately titled “Hidden Gems,” a collection of 20 outtakes recorded for Stax-Volt between 1960 and 1968. Another potent reminder that the Memphis label simply couldn’t miss in its heyday… Sweet Sensation/Carla Thomas

Albert Washington is one of those fine but obscure soul performers who never quite made it to the big time. Born in Rome, GA, and raised in Cincinnati, Washington started out in the gospel tradition (the Gospelaires) but eventually made the move to more secular pleasures, playing for years at local blues joints like the Vet’s Inn near the Ohio River. He cut some first-rate singles in Cincinnati, mostly for the Fraternity label and often with the great Lonnie Mack on second guitar. One of his songs – Turn On the Bright Lights – was even covered by Jerry Garcia for a solo project. This next tune was recorded at King Studios in 1970 (for a nice overview of Washington’s career and the Cincinnati blues and soul music scene, check out “Going to Cincinnati: A History of Blues in the Queen City” by writer/harp-player Steve Tracy). Loosen These Pains And Let Me Go/Albert Washington

If you think you don’t know Fred Wesley, think again. He spent years anchoring James Brown’s horn section, blowing his fine funky ‘bone on cuts like Hot Pants, Doing It To Death (a million-selling single), Mother Popcorn and many other of the Godfather’s hits. And his later recordings – with artists ranging from the Count Basie Orchestra to the Klezmer collaboration Abraham Inc. – betray Wesley’s more adventurous spirit… not to mention a highly eclectic taste in music.  This next cut was released in ’74 (without J.B.) under the name Fred & The New J.B.’s… It’s a steamy slice of funk from a true master of the form. Breakin’ Bread/Fred Wesley & The New J.B.’s

Eddie Hinton might be the most unsung hero in the history of soul music. He spent most of his career as a session guitarist and songwriter, most notably at the fabled Muscle Shoals Sound Studio, where he contributed to a string of hits recorded by other artists. You can hear his tasty guitar on a cut we featured in a previous post (“Those Chimeless Holiday Classics”) – Every Day Will Be Like A Holiday by the Sweet Inspirations. But he saved the best stuff for himself, and some of his demos blow away tunes that other artists were recording as singles on major labels. Build Your Own Fire and 18 other demos are included on “Dear Y’all: The Songwriting Sessions.” If you’re a fan of deep southern soul, just get it… Build Your Own Fire/Eddie Hinton

I’ll close this out with a recent release on the wonderful Daptone label (for a great piece on the label and its driving force, Gabriel Roth, go here). For a short period of time, the label was offering a generous sampler for free on amazon’s mp3 site – definitely the best (legitimate) steal I’ve ever come across online. Based on a near-religious experience I had seeing Sharon Jones live at a small club in Cleveland, I view these folks as modern-day missionaries, spreading the good word of true funk and soul while struggling against the forces of evil unleashed by antichrists like the Black Eyed Peas. And guitarist Binky Griptite must host one hell of a radio show. If you don’t have any Sharon Jones in your life, you should fix that right now. This next tune features one of her labelmates – Lee Fields, a former chitlin’-circuit performer who seems to epitomize the term “rare soul.” Here’s the title song to his excellent new release, “My World”… Enjoy! My World/Lee Fields

Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings on the BBC’s Later with Jools Holland… Accept no substitutes — this is how it’s done:

How’s that for a blowhard title?

The operative word being “moments”… which speaks to one of several fundamentally different ways that we experience music.

Some folks like it in the background, like aural wallpaper. Now, I’m not going to waste valuable bandwidth trashing smooth jazz, Enya or Muzak. I actually felt a tinge of sadness when I found out that Muzak filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection last year. But I tend to have a hard time ignoring ambient music – I’m always trying to figure out what song is being reprocessed, and whether or not it’s an actual improvement over the original.

Years ago, I was toiling away in a Muzak-fed workplace when I kept hearing this nagging melody… Why is this so disturbing? Then I suddenly realized I was listening to an orchestral remake of Journey to the Center of Your Mind by Ted Nugent and the Amboy Dukes, and my head almost exploded. I found out later that Nugent actually tried to purchase Muzak just to put it out of business. So I’ll give the company credit for following through on this diabolical act of revenge.

Other folks just wanna dance. Nothing wrong with that… In fact, that’s probably a far healthier approach to music than this constant need to analyze every song and identify every conceivable influence.

Some of my more literate friends are all about the lyrics. They trace their musical lineage back to Dylan, who begat the Beatles who begat Elvis Costello who begat a whole slew of contemporary indie poets. Unfortunately, some of these modern-day bards approach things like rhythm and musicianship with an attitude bordering on contempt.

I recently came across a quote from guitarist Geoff Muldaur (Paul Butterfield’s Better Days, The Texas Sheiks) in the Austin Chronicle that seemed to describe where I come out on this issue:

“I’m miserable at listening to singer-songwriters, because I’m not interested in the (singer-songwriter’s) music, and I don’t listen to the words,” Muldaur said. “Zero. I come at it from the music. If the lyrics hold up, if the music is compelling, I might listen to words – if they’re spectacular and draw me in. Take ‘Gee Baby, Ain’t I Good to You,’ as an example. ‘Love makes me treat you the way I do. Gee, baby, ain’t I good to you.’ That’s it.”

Which brings us to the malcontents at Rubber City Review and other obsessive-compulsive types – mostly musicians and record collectors – who simply can’t get certain guitar licks or horn parts or vocal flourishes out of their heads. Sadly, these retained musical moments don’t go away – they begin to crowd out other basic thoughts, such as those involving food, personal hygiene and the speech patterns of spouses and family members. Help stop this terrible affliction…

OCD-related maladies aside, I’ve always noticed that musicians use these moments as shorthand to describe what they like about a certain song, artist or genre.

When I was putting together my post on Robert Quine, I came across a tribute from an old friend of Rob’s, Procter Lippincott (from the music site Perfect Sound Forever). Here he describes a process that should be familiar to most musicians:

“We never listened to whole tracks together. In fact, on most occasions, as I recall, we listened only to that particular instant on any track that we felt made it great, even breathtaking, in its impact. It might have been A Thing of the Past, for instance, where Shirley of the Shirelles’ voice cracked on the first word of the phrase, ‘Thi-i-s-s is the moment to decide’ (my choice), a syncopated line on ‘Waltz for Debby’ (Bill Evans’ ‘Live at the Village Vanguard’… his), or the pregnant pause right after the head in Power to Love on Jimi Hendrix’s wildly uneven ‘Band of Gypsys’ album, before Jimi cranks up the volume to take another unearthly solo (mutually appreciated). Quine typically was not as accepting of my choices as I was of his, but we kept at it endlessly, searching for our secular epiphany.”

Here’s that moment (and more – I just couldn’t cut off the solo) from “Band of Gypsys”: Power to Love/Jimi Hendrix

In the best spirit of this process, I’ve asked brothers Jack and James to join me in sharing some of our favorite musical moments. I promise to be accepting of their choices – even if I’m convinced they suck – and I look forward to joining them at the upcoming Rubber City Roundtable: “Why Our Opinions About Music Are Much More Important Than Yours.”

Tim: Charlie Parker may seem like an obvious choice, but I wonder how many jazz musicians became junkies after hearing Bird’s ultimate throwdown to his fellow be-boppers? This is from a compilation of his recordings on the Savoy and Dial labels (one Dial collection even included this sample as a separate track, listed as the “Famous Alto Break”): Night in Tunisia/Charlie Parker

Jack: This is one of those slow blues that only a good blues singer can sing. I’m talking about Muddy Waters. With a top-notch band that follows his every breath. “Don’t say I don’t love you, cause I stays out late at night long… You know I’m a country boy and I don’t know what’s going on.” It’s great, but the growl and cry at the end really nails it. Country Boy/Muddy Waters

James: It had to be the mid-’70s when I first heard Reconsider Me coming from a record vendor’s booth at a Pensacola flea market. When I asked who the singer was, the vendor said he thought it might be Tom Jones. “Tom Jones can’t sing like that,” I said. Not even in his dreams. It turned out to be New Orleans crooner Johnny Adams. For reasons I still don’t understand, the song was included in a compilation album called “The Streak,” which also featured that Ray Stevens ode to exhibitionism. I don’t know how to categorize this sound. Swampolitan? I do know there aren’t many vocalists, alive or dead, who could sing with this particular combination of sophistication and scary passion. Listen to Johnny’s bloodcurdling falsetto on the chorus. Reconsider Me/Johnny Adams

Tim: Couldn’t resist another perfect falsetto – this one from gospel singer Claude Jeter, who passed away in January 2009. You probably didn’t read about it in the paper or see it covered on Entertainment Tonight. Which makes sense, because he had one of those transcendent voices (like the previous example) that seem to exist in another world… one that would relegate Madonna Ciccone to a lifetime of obscurity. Here’s my favorite moment – actually, two soaring falsettos by Jeter – from my favorite tune by the Swan Silvertones: Mary Don’t You Weep/The Swan Silvertones with Claude Jeter

Jack: The great James Booker… Is he playing in front of the beat or behind the beat?  You figure it out. He sure is creating a lot of excitement with just a couple of chords. Keep On Gwine/James Booker

James: I Ain’t Got Long has to be one of the most deep and moving performances I’ve ever heard on record, and the story behind it is incredible. A prison warden overheard the legendary Bahamian musician Peter Elliot singing the song in his cell, where he was awaiting execution, and was so moved that he arranged his release. Elliot later fell to his death through the open window of a Nassau bar. The song is performed by a group of Elliot’s friends in the same alley where he died. It’s from the classic collection of field recordings, “The Real Bahamas.” This is as real as it gets… (we’ll just play the whole thing) I Ain’t Got Long/Sam Green and group

Anyone else want to weigh in? Doesn’t even have to be an actual piece of music… I’ll leave you with this little slice of studio banter between Leonard Chess and Sonny Boy Williamson (warning: don’t play this for the kids) as you ponder which nugget you’ll send me for a future post: Little Village/Leonard Chess and Sonny Boy Williamson

Today’s Record Store Day… Go spend some cash at one of the 700 independent record stores left in the U.S. so they can stay open for another year.

Ah, the life of a trucker. Got me a hot rod rig with 10 forward gears and a Georgia overdrive, and I’m double-clutchin my way through this here mountain pass. There’s a tombstone every mile… I’m poppin those bennies like they was M&Ms… But I’m feelin pretty good, cuz I got this diesel all wound up and I’m passin everything in sight. And I can’t wait to spend a little money on my honey at the next roadside stop.

Wait, that’s someone else’s life…

I may not have the slightest idea what it’s like being a trucker, but I can certainly appreciate a well-crafted ode to the hero of the highway – the truck-drivin’ man (or woman).

Fact is, for those of us who prefer a more sedentary lifestyle, these songs may be the closest we get to climbing in the cab of an 18-wheeler, grinding a few gears and moving a truckload of freight across a few hundred miles (or, in my case, maybe a few inches) of blacktop.

Several posts back (“There Stands the Glass”), I unlocked the secrets to writing the perfect drinking song. Now, as a special added bonus for RCR’s many subscribers – or, as I like to call them, friends and family members – I’ll provide the same essential service to those of you hoping to come up with the next big hit on Billboard’s Trucker 100 (from the same parallel universe that made Ferlin Husky an international pop star and 8-track tapes the preferred format for today’s discerning music buyer).

First, the ideal trucker song should include at least one truck-related sound effect – horn blaring, gears grinding, motor running, brakes squealing… any of these will do just fine. Second, we need several references to the rig itself and/or the trucker lifestyle, using terminology that should be foreign to the non-trucking public (double-clutching and Georgia overdrive are good examples). Third, much like the successful drinking song, it helps to create a sense of impending doom. Think diesel smoke and dangerous curves… fog is thick, brakes are failing, bennies are all gone and tombstones are whizzing by. Nothing good can come of this. And for the final, knockout punch, the song should convey a deep sense of longing for someone at the end of the road – whether it’s a faithful wife waiting back home in the peaceful valley or a painted floozy slingin’ hash at the roadside tavern.

Based on these important measures, it’s safe to say that the big-mack-daddy of all trucker song collections is “Truck Driver’s Boogie: Big Rig Hits, 1939-1969.” And, of course, it’s already out of print – even though it was released in 2001. Just keep this in mind as we continue to march ahead into a brave new world of digital music libraries offered at a monthly fee from some web-based conglomerate. It seems to me a greater variety of music was available 15-20 years ago (pre-economic meltdown), when a number of smaller boutique labels were releasing first-rate compilations of anything from funk to field hollers. Good luck finding the same range of choices today, unless you know your way around a small community of online file-sharing sites. I can tell you that a lot of the stuff we feature on RCR remains unavailable on iTunes – and I don’t want to live in a world without Speedy West and Jimmy Bryant (but I’m willing to try if iTunes makes it equally hard to find Rascal Flatts).

Anyway, enough bitching… If you can appreciate a uniquely American form of roots music with healthy doses of humor and hot pickin’, you’ll want to check out “Truck Driver’s Boogie: Big Rig Hits, 1939-1969.” As the title says, it covers three decades of truck-driving history, stopping just short of all that annoying CB radio/Convoy/Smokey the Bear crap that you couldn’t avoid in the Seventies.

Speaking of West and Bryant, they’re all over this next cut by Doye O’Dell… It gets high marks from the RCR research team on all four of our key indicators, plus bonus points for tasty pedal steel and guitar solos. Speedy goes first; Bryant takes the second break: Diesel Smoke (Dangerous Curves)/Doye O’Dell w/ Speedy West and Jimmy Bryant

Those of you who prefer something more along the lines of Roger Miller will enjoy this next tune by Del Reeves. I’m not sure what would be the best occasion to unleash this song on your friends and loved ones… Maybe you should just listen to it by yourself in a very remote, private area: Girl on the Billboard/Del Reeves

Even a few women got in on the act… Since I’m not familiar with Kay Adams, I’ll defer to the good folks at allmusic.com, who describe her as “the first woman to take the wheel of a big rig and drive it into country music’s Top 40.” We can thank the Sundazed label for reissuing her 1966 long-player “Wheels & Tears,” which includes a number also featured on “Big Rig Hits”: Little Pink Mack/Kay Adams

Now, before you start thinking all this stuff is strictly for laughs, along comes Red Simpson. He’s obviously aching to get back home to see his baby – and even a jaded tool like me can get a little choked up when Red talks about the son who barely knows him, but keeps drawing pictures of trucks in school (Red’s still at it today, and his lighter side is apparent on Nitro Express, a tune he recorded with the great Junior Brown in ’96): Roll, Truck, Roll/Red Simpson

Once you get past the golden age of trucker songs, there’s even less to choose from. If you look hard you can find a few gems hidden here and there – Taj Mahal’s rockin’ cover of Six Days on the Road (from “Giant Step”), The Byrds’ Drug Store Truck Drivin’ Man, Townes Van Zandt’s White Freight Liner Blues, Little Feat’s Willin’, Bill Kirchen’s remake of Tombstone Every Mile (also covered by Nick Lowe)…

But most of us don’t have the time or patience to go searching for semi-gold. Instead, let me recommend a more recent collection (’96 – close enough) of trucker tunes called “Rig Rock Deluxe: A Musical Salute to the American Truck Driver” that serves as a nice companion piece to “Big Rig Hits.” Like any tribute, it has a few clunkers – but the good (including the previously mentioned Nitro Express) outweighs the not-so-good. And I especially like this number that teams up alt-country heavyweight Jim Lauderdale and honky tonker Del Reeves… Diesel, Diesel, Diesel/Del Reeves w/ Jim Lauderdale

Another standout cut is by a crack little band from St. Louis called the Bottle Rockets – formed in ’92 and still going strong, I think. If I were stupid enough to form a trucker tribute band today, I’d be thrilled if it sounded something like this: Truck Drivin’ Man (Give It All I Can)/The Bottle Rockets

So god bless the American trucker – lionized by the first generation of honky tonk heroes and lampooned in a handful of bad movies from the Seventies. Maybe it’s finally time to launch the great truck song revival?

I recently read that Jack White (White Stripes, Dead Weather, Raconteurs) produced a new album by rockabilly queen Wanda Jackson. Sounded like the perfect deal to me – love White and love Wanda. And judging by White’s inspired makeover of Loretta Lynn on 2004’s “Van Lear Rose,” I had every reason to believe that Wanda Jackson would come out of this with a whole new sense of purpose.

Well, that still might be the case… but it probably won’t have much to do with what I’ve heard so far from the White-Wanda collaboration.

The first “single” out of the chute (available on iTunes or on vinyl through White’s label Third Man Records) features two covers – Amy Winehouse’s You Know I’m No Good, and Shakin’ All Over by Sixties British rockers Johnny Kidd & The Pirates. The problem with the first is that it sounds a lot like Winehouse’s version, except without her amazingly expressive voice. And the second adds a fairly meaningless layer of horns on top of a classic rock riff that needs no help at all, thank you (the Who still owns the best remake of this song, from “Live at Leeds”).

Wanda sounds game on both cuts, but they don’t really play to her greatest strength as a vocalist – a primal sexuality with just enough purr to keep most men from running for the hills. I like to think of her as Howlin’ Wolf in drag, with a country twang.

If anything, White’s single sent me back (again) to one of the most enjoyable collections of music I own – “Queen of Rockabilly: The Very Best of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Years,” on Ace Records (UK import). It’s an embarrassment of riches… great sound, hot pickin’, cool covers of rock classics, and the unbridled pleasures of Wanda wailin’ into one of those big, tube-driven microphones.

Now, Wanda wasn’t an innovator in the same sense as Elvis or even the most dangerous rockabilly band on the planet at that time, the Johnny Burnette Trio. Her producer at Capitol Records, Ken Nelson, was known mainly for hit country singles, and he recorded Wanda at Capitol’s state-of-the-art studio in Los Angeles. So none of these songs had the same edge as the nastier stuff that came out of Sam Phillips’ studio in Memphis. But Nelson knew a great voice when he heard it – and his clean, uncluttered arrangements put the focus squarely on Wanda’s voice, just the way God and Elvis intended. Case in point… Let’s Have a Party

That cut was recorded with a mixed-race band from Arkansas called Bobby Poe & the Kats. And its dangerous attitude can be partially credited to Elvis Presley, who dated Wanda a few times when they toured together back in the mid-’50s. According to Wanda, Elvis schooled her on the blues and encouraged her to toughen up her sound by moving from country to rockabilly. Mission accomplished.

A native of Maud, Oklahoma, Wanda was raised on country music. Her father was an aspiring country singer who moved the family to Los Angeles in the ’40s, probably hoping to land a record deal with one of the city’s big labels, but eventually moved back east to Oklahoma City. His musical aspirations soon shifted to young Wanda, who won a talent contest in high school as well as the attention of country star Hank Thompson, who asked her to perform with his Brazos Valley Boys in 1954. She recorded a few singles on Capitol Records with Thompson’s band – You Can’t Have My Love reached number eight on the country charts – but certainly didn’t gain enough notoriety to make Kitty Wells nervous. Then Wanda met Elvis, signed with Capitol as a solo artist, and recorded 30-some tunes that were among the most prized possessions of rockabilly collectors around the world (until Ace Records spoiled the fun in 2000 by finally making all of them available in one place).

Wanda didn’t stick with rockabilly very long, though. After she recorded these classic sides, she drifted back to country music in 1965 and stayed there until the ’80s. This probably had as much to do with her newfound Christian faith as a realization that she simply couldn’t maintain a long career in music by shredding her vocal cords every time she stepped up to the mic.

Wanda’s ambivalence is especially apparent on this tune from 1956, which gave her a unique opportunity to have it both ways: I Gotta Know

One of the best songs on the collection is a pop-flavored number from 1961 called Funnel of Love. Here Wanda shows a little more reach with some nice vocal flourishes – and it’s surprising that such an alluring tune didn’t do better on the charts: Funnel of Love

One of the special charms of “Queen of Rockabilly” is the almost off-handed approach to some of these sessions. It seems like Nelson seldom had anything specific in mind, other than turning Wanda loose with some of the best session players in the business – including A-list guitarists like Joe Maphis, Buck Owens and, later, Roy Clark. Here’s some nifty work by Maphis on Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad: Hot Dog! That Made Him Mad

Nelson also had Wanda cover some of the era’s rock ‘n roll hits. Are they essential remakes of the originals? Not really – except maybe Wanda’s version of Brown-Eyed Handsome Man, which almost outdoes Chuck Berry’s original by switching genders for a little added sex appeal. And on a few tunes, Nelson couldn’t resist those syrupy vocal choruses that the musicians union must have required at virtually every recording session back in the early Sixties. But there’s something to admire on every song, whether it’s the “good girl gone bad” appeal of Wanda’s voice or the country soul of Roy Clark’s guitar.

Wanda eventually made her way back to rockabilly in the Eighties, fueled by the enthusiasm of roots-music fanatics in Europe and the lasting appeal of whacked-out numbers like Fujiyama Mama, which made her a minor sensation in Japan – even with its politically incorrect references to the atom bomb: Fujiyama Mama

Maybe I should lower my expectations about the White-Wanda project… Then again, maybe Ace Records did Wanda a disservice by putting all those great rockabilly sides on one CD. Why play with sparklers when you’ve got enough fireworks to light up the whole sky?

Wanda today

Wanda on video… Here’s Wanda rippin’ up Hard Headed Woman. Not sure who the guitar player is (Joe Maphis?), but he’s a sumbitch.

A fine-lookin’ Wanda covers a country tune by Webb Pierce: