Rubber City Review

The brave new world of digital music. Millions of songs available through subscription services like MOG and Spotify. Immediate ownership of any song you like through iTunes and Amazon. What more could a self-respecting music nerd want? Well, maybe a few of my favorite albums, for starters.

I’m not sure why some of these titles never made it to iTunes and then on to “The Cloud,” as the web monks call it. Maybe a sinister cabal of editors at Pitchfork decided they weren’t hip enough to save for posterity. Maybe they needed more bandwidth for the next 25 indie acts from Brooklyn and Portland they hope to break tomorrow.

For whatever reason, these albums remain lost in the cloud. I think it’s time to bring them back. And I’m asking you, my faithful readers, to a) find out who runs the interwebs and 2) demand that these masterworks be given their rightful place in the sky, where they can be dutifully ignored by future generations of coastal hipsters.

Case in point: The “5” Royales. A few posts back, we sang the praises of this groundbreaking band that inspired a host of rock and soul acts that followed – from James Brown to The Mamas & The Papas (who covered the Royales’ Dedicated to the One I Love). Last month, legendary Stax-Volt session guitarist Steve Cropper showed some love for the band by releasing “Dedicated,” a fitting tribute to the Royales and their flame-throwing axeman Lowman Pauling. Nice stuff… but still not in the same league as the originals. Now go to your favorite music subscription service and try to find The “5” Royales. I came up with four on mine, and that didn’t include this juicy slab of gospel-flavored R&B: Get Something Out Of It

Bluesman John Hammond Jr. has recorded more than 30 albums throughout his career, starting with his first release on Vanguard back in ’62. Should every one of those albums be available on Rhapsody? Why not? They certainly have everything John Mayer ever crapped out… And although Hammond is fairly well-represented – from the best of his Vanguard tracks to his modern blues classic “Wicked Grin” – you won’t be able to find another one of my favorites: “Can’t Beat the Kid.” Side one on the album is a full-band session featuring Muscle Shoals regulars Eddie Hinton on guitar (who also served as producer), Spooner Oldham on piano and Roger Hawkins on percussion. Side two is Hammond alone with his guitar and harmonica – which sounds like a full band compared to most other solo acts. Here’s Hammond and band burning through a funky little number written by Steve Cropper and Otis Redding: Groovin’ Time

Although far from well-known, Spanish flamenco guitarist Gerardo Nunez deserves our attention based on the merits of another lost gem, “Calima.” The album was released in ’98 on Alula Records, which might help explain why it quickly disappeared. Allmusic.com gives it 4 ½ stars, with reviewer Tom Schulte noting that “Nunez’s jazz-tempered Andalusian flamenco is passionate, highly developed and instantly rewarding to the listener.” I especially like the fiery interplay between Nunez and Panamanian jazz pianist Danilo Perez, responsible for another fine album from the ‘90s – “Panamonk,” a Latin-flavored tribute to Thelonious Monk. “Calima” casts its spell every time I hear it… a wonderful melding of ancient and modern influences. You can find a new copy on Amazon for $136.90. Calima

If you think you don’t know Wynn Stewart, just recall a ubiquitous Jetta commercial from last year that featured his song Another Day, Another Dollar. Here are three reasons why I think Stewart’s hugely underrated: 1) One of the great country singers of the Fifties and Sixties; 2) Had the good sense to hire Merle Haggard as his bass player and write his first hit, Sing a Sad Song; and 3) Helped define the Bakersfield Sound that still serves as the gold standard for honky tonkers everywhere – including Dwight Yoakam, who covered Stewart’s song Playboy. And why are only a handful of his songs available on iTunes (and definitely not his best stuff)? 1) Too country for Kenny Chesney fans; 2) Need more bandwidth for complete Rascal Flatts catalog; and 3) They’re friggin’ idiots? More evidence that this gross injustice needs to be addressed, now: Three Cheers for the Loser

Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson is one of my favorite practitioners of that great lost American art form known as jump blues. That voice – especially that tortured squeal he’d often use at the end of a line to put a little chill down your spine. That wailing alto sax. And those songs, all classics in my estimation: Kidney Stew Blues, Juice Head Baby, Old Maid Boogie, Queen Bee Blues… Shouldn’t a notable session from ’57 that captures Vinson and several Count Basie Band alumni tearing through a few jump-blues classics be celebrated as a national treasure? Well, first you’d have to find it. Good luck… And while you’re searching, enjoy this sizzling cut from “Cleanhead’s Back in Town”: Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby

One of the more stunning examples of online neglect involves Cajun rocker Claiborne Joseph Cheramie – aka Joe Clay. I’d put Clay right up there with the most dangerous rockabilly cats of the ‘50s, including the Johnny Burnette Trio, Gene Vincent and Billy Lee Riley. For a relative unknown, he had a fairly remarkable career, having appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show (where he was asked not to play his hair-raising Duck Tail) and shared the stage with Elvis on the Louisiana Hayride. But Clay’s real claim to fame involved some blistering sides that he recorded for RCA in Houston and New York City. The latter session included the legendary Mickey Baker on guitar, but I think I prefer the more primitive stylings of guitarist Hal Harris on the Houston cuts (including the one sampled here). Clay was driving a school bus in New Orleans when he was “rediscovered” in the mid-‘80s by a British rockabilly fanatic. Maybe we should put the same guy in charge of the web, where Clay remains largely ignored. Goodbye, Goodbye

In this post, we shared some essential tunes by the original Fleetwood Mac, featuring the otherworldly talents of guitarist/harp player/singer Peter Green. Thankfully, most of those recordings can be found online. But you’ll have to search a lot harder to find material that the band recorded between the Green era and the chart-topping years of the mid-‘70s. Certainly the band was making the transition from its blues-based sound to the more radio-friendly realm of L.A. singer/songwriters. But there’s a lot to like from Fleetwood Mac’s so-called lost years. Take the title cut from their ’72 release Bare Trees or this churning workout from ‘70s “Kiln House” featuring a holdover from the Green-led band, guitarist and singer Danny Kirwan: Station Man

I’ll close with another nod to cousin Robert Quine, who serves as the very definition of “lost in the cloud.” Granted, he made his reputation largely as a sidekick, contributing some highly original (and often seriously deranged) guitar licks to albums by Lou Reed, Richard Hell, Tom Waits, Marianne Faithfull, Matthew Sweet and many others. But he recorded some haunting, atmospheric music under his own name, working with collaborators like fellow stringbender Jody Harris and percussionist Fred Maher. Like Rob himself, these recordings never got the recognition they deserved, which also means they may never make the transition to that otherwise massive digital library right at your fingertips. Here’s Rob’s moody tribute to the place he called home for much of his life, NYC’s East Village: Village

I’ve got a lot more long-lost albums where these came from… How about you?

This video has nothing to do with our post… Just thought I should share it with you. Special thanks to The Coppertone for turning me on to this guy:

In the early 1980s, I lived in Cincinnati and edited one of those free entertainment newspapers you see blowing through the streets of big cities throughout the country.  The following piece borrows heavily from an article I wrote back then about one of America’s greatest independent labels, King Records.  Its huge catalog includes seminal recordings by some of the most important artists of the Forties through the Sixties – ranging from the hard, lonesome sound of the Stanley Brothers to the heavy funk of James Brown.

A few notable events have occurred since I wrote the original article:  1) The city of Cincinnati got its act together and put up a historic marker in 2008 where King Records once operated (a good start); 2) Shad O’Shea, a former radio personality, studio owner and raconteur, passed away in June; and 3) the King catalog (minus James Brown’s recordings, which are owned by Polydor) is now being reissued, although in a somewhat haphazard manner, by Collectables Records.

A future post will focus on Cincinnati’s Fraternity Records – home of flame-throwing guitarist Lonnie Mack. 

King Records

In 1943, Cincinnati had become an industrial hub that attracted poor Appalachian whites, along with an already burgeoning population of blacks from the South.  Not only did both groups share the same jobs, they also shared an intense love of the regional music traditions they grew up with.  Syd Nathan must have realized this fact.  That same year, the asthmatic, near-sighted hustler closed the book on a series of dead-end jobs (wrestling promoter, park concessionaire, refrigerator salesman, record retailer) by founding his own record company, which eventually moved into a former icehouse at 1540 Brewster Ave. in the city’s Evanston neighborhood.

The origins of King Records coincided with the initial broadcasts of what later became Cincinnati’s answer to Nashville’s Grand Old Opry – WLW’s “Midwestern Hayride.”  And many of the artists that were featured on the Hayride eventually wound up on Nathan’s fledgling label.  Within a couple of years, King had become one of the most influential country labels nationwide, with a roster that included the likes of Grandpa Jones, Cowboy Copas, Moon Mullican, Hank Penny, Hawkshaw Hawkins, the Delmore Brothers and many others.  And most of it was pure, unfiltered country – a formula Nathan stuck with for most of the label’s existence.  Here’s a gospel-flavored number from 1960 by the legendary bluegrass duo the Stanley Brothers… Rank Stranger/The Stanley Brothers

Nathan didn’t just stop there, though.  During the early years he also released a number of records under the “race” category – a term used to describe records aimed specifically at blacks.  These records featured the citified sounds of jump blues and boogie-woogie, and are considered to be the forerunners of rock and roll.  Tiny Bradshaw, Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson and Ike Turner all scored R&B hits with King, as did blues crooners such as Bull Moose Jackson and Ivory Joe Hunter.  Here’s one by Cleanhead, whose unique brand of risque rhythm always seemed to find its way onto a barroom jukebox… Sittin On It All The Time/Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson

You get the idea… Nathan’s true forte, however, was his practice of covering country hits with R&B artists, and vice versa.  The York Brothers, a country duo that recorded for King in the late ‘40s and early ’50s, covered several of the era’s R&B hits and predated Sam Phillips’ work on Sun Records with Elvis Presley and Jerry Lee Lewis by several years.  Likewise, R&B acts such as Bull Moose Jackson and Wynonie Harris successfully re-recorded country hits by Wayne Raney and Moon Mullican, among others.  Wynonie scored a hit in 1951 by covering a tune recorded the previous year by Hank Penny (the tune also has been covered by western swingers Asleep at the Wheel, which makes sense, and rocker Pat Benatar, which makes no sense at all).

Bloodshot Eyes/Wynonie Harris

And here’s the flip side of the equation as the “King of the Hillbilly Piano Players,” Moon Mullican, cuts loose with a number by R&B bandleader Tiny Bradshaw… Well Oh Well/Moon Mullican

Although Nathan’s intentions were not totally artistic (he only covered hits by his own artists, which he owned all publishing rights to), his musical juggling act earned him a reputation as an innovator.  “Syd had a number of theories when it came to recording” said Col Jim Wilson, a salesman and, later, executive V.P. who worked with Nathan from King’s inception until 1965.  “He once said, ‘Give me the material, and I’ll find the artist,’ so he placed great emphasis on that.  At the same time, he always seemed to find artists with very distinct and readily identifiable styles.  Every King artist was unique in one way or another.”

Wilson, who eventually joined Starday Records in Nashville and helped orchestrate the purchase of King, also gave a lot of credit to the facilities themselves.  “King’s studio was the first of its kind in the country.  Recording, mastering, plating, printing, pressing and shipping were all done in the same building.  You could cut a record at night, and the next day it would be in the hands of a local DJ.”

At first, Nathan separated the R&B from King’s mainstay, country, by using different labels such as “Queen,” “Federal” and “De Luxe” for his race records.  In the ‘50s, however, he combined all of his acts under the King label, with greater emphasis on black R&B.

The first acts to score big for King in the ‘50s were the vocal groups – the Dominoes (featuring Clyde McPhatter), the Charms (later Otis Williams and the Charms) and the Midnighters (later Hank Ballard and the Midnighters).  Sixty Minute Man, the Dominoes’ Number 1 hit in 1951 that featured the refrain “I rock ‘em, roll ‘em all night long,” is considered by some to be the first true rock and roll record. Sixty Minute Man/The Dominoes

Midnighters’ hits such as Sexy Ways, Work With Me Annie and Annie Had a Baby made many listeners blanch with their sexually suggestive lyrics, but still worked their way up the charts.  As a bandleader, Hank Ballard later broke through with the classic party singles Finger Poppin’ Time and Let’s Go, Let’s Go, Let’s Go – both from 1960.

The jump blues of the late ‘40s led to the early rock and roll instrumentals of the ‘50s, such as organist Bill Doggett’s Honky Tonk – one of those perfect songs that should be pre-loaded on every iPod.

Nathan also unearthed the raw talents of Little Willie John (of Fever fame) and Little Esther, who went on to even greater success as Esther Phillips.  Listen to Little Willie tear it up on this cut from 1960… You Hurt Me/Little Willie John

“Commercial black music was born in Cincinnati,” said Shad O’Shea, a local radio personality who also ran Counterpart Creative Studios.  “Nathan was a true originator.  He was responsible for making black music available to whites.  Berry Gordy (of Motown), who gets a lot of the credit, simply prostituted a lot of the black R&B by ‘sweetening’ it up for white tastes.”

King also released singles and albums by some of the era’s top blues artists – including John Lee Hooker (who recorded as “Texas Slim” on King’s Federal subsidiary and “Johnny Lee” on De Luxe), Johnny “Guitar” Watson, Champion Jack Dupree, Albert King and Freddie King.  Freddie’s sides are among the most unique and satisfying in the King catalog – especially his “surf-blues” instrumentals that clearly informed a young Eric Clapton (who recorded a spot-on version of Hide Away with John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers).  I highly recommend all of Freddie’s recordings on King, but decided to feature this wild instrumental workout from 1950 by Hooker, who sounds like he’s bashing out the first power chords ever caught on wax! Slim’s Stomp/Texas Slim (John Lee Hooker)

King’s ace in the hole, though, was a young black dynamo from Augusta, GA, who recorded his first single at the Brewster Ave. studio in 1956.  Please, Please, Please laid the groundwork for the remarkable career of “Soul Brother Number 1” – James Brown. Please, Please, Please/James Brown

Although Brown’s early records for King eventually became R&B and funk classics with their gritty, unabashed drive, they couldn’t compete on the pop charts with more polished efforts by artists such as the Platters and the Coasters.  One of the reasons for Brown’s relative holding pattern in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s may have been that King Records, already beyond its heyday by the turn of the decade, was unable to promote an artist of Brown’s stature.  Whatever the reason, Brown ended up in a tense legal tug-of-war with Nathan and his label, resulting in him being given complete artistic control of his recordings by 1965 – virtually unheard of at that time.  And that same year, Brown took off with the song that made him an international phenomenon – Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag. Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag/James Brown

Brown continued with King through the ‘60s, even after Nathan’s death of a heart attack in 1968.  The label was eventually sold to Starday in Nashville, and Brown went on to form his own record production company with distribution handled by Polydor.

Today, the city of Cincinnati is finally recognizing one of its greatest contributions to the rest of the world.  Hopefully, the city’s true faithful will keep that legacy alive by succeeding in their efforts to build a new studio and King Records museum near the former icehouse on Brewster Avenue.

Another Christmas gift from Rubber City Review… Want to dance like J.B.?  As Brother Jack would say, there is help.

OK, I couldn’t resist adding some Freddie to the end of this… Enjoy! Walk Down the Aisle (Honey Chile)/Freddie King