As I noted in Pt. 1, I have no real evidence of said revival – other than I recently stumbled into a local club where I was stunned to hear the DJ playing rare, out-of-print soul and funk albums by artists I’d never heard of. Mostly hard-core southern soul, but also a few tunes that were clearly conceived many miles from Memphis. Songs like this one, recorded in ’93 by a band of funky freaks from Munich, Germany (you heard it right – German funk): More Mess On My Thing/The Poets of Rhythm

My first direct exposure to soul and funk was as a student at Miami University, where I only lasted two years (I never felt comfortable at a school where the students were more conservative than my parents). Although campus was a non-stop parade of kids named Muffy, Buffy, Bif and Skippy (another name for a theme bar?), the music scene around Oxford, Ohio, in the mid-‘70s was something altogether different. One band, Medicine Wheel, included refugees from the Lemon Pipers (Green Tambourine) and Ram Jam (Black Betty). You could also find guitar legend Lonnie Mack or his keyboard player Dumpy Rice playing at a dive just down the road in McGonigle.

But the most fearsome act of all was Roger and the Human Body, a family funk band from nearby Hamilton, Ohio. The band’s charismatic leader, Roger Troutman, could play Hendrix-like runs on guitar, then tear it up on keyboards, harmonica and even the flute… sometimes in the same extended jam. But his main innovation was combining the talkbox (think Joe Walsh’s Rocky Mountain Way or Peter Frampton’s Do You Feel Like We Do) with a keyboard-driven synthesizer.

He eventually turned that contraption into gold in the early ‘80s with his hugely popular band Zapp and songs like this one, which reached number two on the Billboard Soul Singles chart in 1980: More Bounce to the Ounce/Zapp

But back in ’75, Roger was playing bars, freshman mixers and student union parties with his brothers Larry, Lester and Terry, along with several other musicians from the fertile southwest Ohio soul and funk scene that produced the Ohio Players, Robert Ward and Bootsy Collins, among others. We’d often catch the Human Body at the King of Clubs, right across the street from the dive where Lonnie and Dumpy would play. And when things were really cooking, you felt like you had to lean into the stage to keep the band’s energy from knocking you over. Freedom/Roger and the Human Body

Although Troutman took his funk machine around the world, he kept his home in southwest Ohio and recorded hits for other artists – including Sugarfoot from the Ohio Players and Shirley Murdock – at his studio in Dayton.

Roger on guitar

In 1999, Troutman was shot dead outside of his studio, the victim of a murder/suicide involving his older brother Larry – a former member of the Human Body and Zapp. The tragedy appeared to stem from Larry’s financial problems and Roger’s efforts to distance himself from them. Roger was cut down in his prime, only 47 years old and the toast of rappers and hip-hoppers ranging from Tupac Shakur and Dr. Dre to Snoop Dog and The Notorious B.I.G. He had recently jump-started his career through his contribution to a huge Tupac/Dr. Dre hit, California Love, and his deep grooves served as the foundation for West Coast hip hop. Rapper Ice Cube became a fan at the age of 11, when he saw people dancing to More Bounce at a party… “I just think that was a rush of adrenaline for me, like a chemical reaction in my brain.” Much like the reaction I had when I first saw Roger and the Human Body turn the bright pink sweaters of Miami coeds into twisted knots of sweaty funk. (For more on Roger Troutman, read this article in SF Weekly).

Rather than end on a low note, I decided to feature a few quick samples of soul and funk gems I’ve been listening to lately…

Here’s a tune that was covered by the Neville Brothers on their classic album “Live at Tipitina’s.” Surprisingly, the original is by Little Esther Phillips, who tackled a number of genres over the years but was probably best known for her ‘50s R&B sides. I found this one on a “Raw Soul” compilation put together by the UK music magazine Mojo. Makes you wonder what the geniuses at Atlantic Records were thinking when they weaned her off of this hard stuff in favor of jazzy pop. Mojo Hannah/Little Esther Phillips

God bless David Byrne for rescuing the early ‘70s recordings of Shuggie Otis from complete obscurity by releasing “Inspiration Information” on his Luaka Bop label in 2001. Simply put, this is some of the greatest soul and funk ever committed to wax. Shuggie’s beautiful, mind-blowing arrangements were way ahead of their time (I’m sure he learned a lot of the basics from his dad, Johnny – a legend of post-war R&B and early rock). And he was an amazing guitar player, mainly because of what he didn’t play. If Shuggie had less taste, he would’ve been a huge star… Sparkle City/Shuggie Otis

Here’s a cautionary tale from Betty Wright, better known as the “Clean Up Woman.” It’s from her debut album released in ’68, “My First Time Around.” The Miami native remains active in the music biz, recording backing vocals for Erykah Badu, David Byrne, Jimmy Cliff and many others. She’s also a two-time Grammy nominee, as both a producer (Joss Stone’s “Mind, Body & Soul”) and vocalist. Girls Can’t Do What The Guys Do/Betty Wright

Charles Bradley

We touched on Brooklyn-based Daptone Records and Sharon Jones in a previous post. Here’s another great cut from the label’s outstanding stable of artists – essentially, a rotating cast of musicians totally dedicated to keeping the spirit of funk alive… and maybe more important, playing it the way god and James Brown intended. This tune is by Charles Bradley, a J.B. devotee who spent much of his life either living on the streets or working as a chef. Hopefully, he’ll finally get the break he so richly deserves: The World (Is Going Up In Flames)/Charles Bradley

“The Heart of Southern Soul” is a fine collection of long-lost soul nuggets recorded in Nashville, Memphis and Muscle Shoals for Nashville-based Excello and its affiliated labels. Among other obscure artists, it features The Wallace Brothers, a duo from Atlanta who recorded this steamy little number at Rick Hall’s legendary Fame Studio in Muscle Shoals. Soul music of the highest order… Line Between Love and Hate/The Wallace Brothers

No soul selection is complete without something from the Stax-Volt catalog. But let’s bypass the usual hits by Otis Redding or Sam & Dave in favor of a lesser-known artist, Ruby Johnson. She recorded some first-rate soul for the Volt label, including the minor hit I’ll Run Your Hurt Away, but never really caught on and left the music business for good in 1974. A couple of interesting factoids about Johnson – she practiced the Jewish faith throughout much of her life, and she eventually ran a federal program called Foster Grandparents, which helped handicapped children connect with the elderly. Nothing particularly respectable about this song… certainly not Steve Cropper’s gutbucket guitar, one of his finest moments on record. I’d Rather Fight Than Switch/Ruby Johnson

They called him the Tan Canary… one of the most extraordinary voices to come out of New Orleans. But Johnny Adams was little known outside of the Crescent City, probably because he was so damn eclectic. He sang R&B, jazz, blues, country – and, for the purposes of this post, hard southern soul. I almost included a sample of this song in our “Great Moments in Modern Music” post. It’s the little vocal melisma he does with the word “leave” (“do you want me to leeeeave…”) and then shouts “baby”! Knocks me out every time. A Losing Battle/Johnny Adams

Deep soul on video… Here’s another tune from “The Heart of Southern Soul” compilation. It features The Kelly Brothers, who started out as a gospel quintet from Chicago and went on to record gospel-infused soul for the Sims and Excello labels. Robert Plant must’ve had this one in his archives – he covers it on his “Band of Joy” album…

Here’s Charles Bradley backed by the Menahan Street Band, performing at Mellow Johnny’s Bike Shop in Austin as part of this year’s SXSW. The Menahan Street Band includes bassist Nick Movshon, who tours with The Black Keys. Wish my local bike shop would book these guys…

Just in case you were wondering how that whole talkbox thing worked out for Roger…

Why not? You can hear Seventies funk of every stripe on TV commercials and movie soundtracks by everyone from The Isley Brothers and Betty Wright to Curtis Mayfield and The Staple Singers. But sadly, Johnny G’s funk gems remained mostly buried in the past. As the man himself famously asked in the title of his ’79 album, what the hell is this?

And what about a Watson biopic? How can Hollywood green-light the Bobby Darin story “Beyond the Sea” and ignore one of the most storied musical careers of the 20^th century? I mean, Watson died on stage in the middle of a guitar solo. How can you come up with a more dramatic ending than that?

Alright, I’m done ranting… Let’s head over to RCR’s “happy place” and dive right into some of these mind-blowing songs.

Now I’m no music scholar, but I’ll go out on a limb by breaking down Watson’s career into three distinct eras:

1. The Early Blues Years
2. The Transition Period
3. Superpimp Funkdaddy

Born in Houston in 1935, Watson started out on piano but eventually took his place in a long line of great blues guitar slingers with strong ties to Texas, including Blind Lemon Jefferson, Lightnin’ Hopkins, T-Bone Walker, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, Albert Collins and Johnny Copeland. In terms of Watson’s early blues years, I’ll defer to our good friend The Hound, who did a fine job of rounding up the best of those recordings here.

But I’ll throw in a couple observations about the radioactive blues numbers that Watson waxed in Los Angeles (where he moved as a teenager) back in the mid ‘50s for the RPM label. First, if you don’t have a collection of those songs – and several good ones are still available, including one you can order at the end of this post (“Hot Just Like TNT”) – then you need to right that wrong immediately. Here’s a little taste of what you’re missing… Too Tired Also, as Hound rightfully points out, Watson laid down some pretty fearsome tracks both before and after he recorded for RPM. And you’d be hard-pressed to find a better slow burner from the early ‘60s than Cuttin’ In. At the risk of melting your laptop speakers, I’ll pack as much as I can into this next sample… Cuttin’ In

We’ll place Watson’s transition period (which we touched on here) in the early to mid ‘70s, when he recorded a couple albums for the Fantasy label, home of Creedence Clearwater Revival. Some view this era as Watson’s sweet spot, when he found that perfect mix of blues and funk. I’m guessing that was the late blue-eyed soulman Robert Palmer’s opinion – he covered this next song on his “Some People Can Do What They Like” album from ‘76. I like the slow grind of Palmer’s version, but you can’t top the sweet caress of Watson’s guitar solo on the original: You’ve Got a Hard Head

Which brings us to Watson’s most commercially successful period, when he came into is own as the ultimate pimp-hustler-gangster-soulman-funkdaddy. And, from what I’ve read, it wasn’t necessarily a role that Watson played to give his act a little “street cred.” As music writer Peter Guralnick puts it in his book “Dream Boogie: The Triumph of Sam Cooke,” Watson was “a star on the L.A. r&b scene whose talent was exceeded only by his panache and his ambivalence about whether he wanted to be a singer or a pimp.” And Hollywood still hasn’t picked up on this??

Watson’s string of hit albums released on the DJM label in the ’70s started with “Ain’t That a Bitch” in ’76. And at this point, you might be wondering how an unreconstructed blues nut such as me could appreciate these records, which were produced and orchestrated to within an inch of their lives with lush horns, precise yet funky rhythms and the occasional string section and synthesizer.

Well, I’ll give you three good reasons (sorry, I’m stuck on triads… seeking help): 1. Watson’s guitar – filled with Texas funk and L.A. fire no matter what he played; 2. Watson’s voice – an amazingly soulful instrument that only got better with age; and 3. Watson’s sense of humor – which makes virtually all of these tunes hugely entertaining (if a bit dated).

I probably should add that he had a great sense of drama as an arranger, which he used to create some fairly audacious openings to his best songs. Listen to how he kicks off A Real Mother for Ya with some powerful guitar riffs (cushioned by lush horns, of course): A Real Mother For Ya And that was simply an attempt to outdo the badass majesty of “Bitch”: Ain’t That a Bitch

One of the great strengths of these recordings is the tension that his down-home blues guitar and voice creates against the uptown arrangements. When was the last time you heard a guitar like this on urban radio? Superman Lover

No question, his music captures a very distinct time and place in American pop culture, with references to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s sky-hook, “makin’ milk out of powder” and hoppin’ on a “jet plane DC-10,” which today is primarily used to move Fed-Ex packages and the unfortunate passengers of Ghana Airways. It was a time when you could still find blaxploitation films at the theater (not the megaplex) and you didn’t have to explain the term “Detroit lean in a deuce and a quarter.”

He was the original Gangster of Love – a cool character whose red-hot guitar inspired a long and diverse list of artists, including Steve Miller, Bobby Womack, Frank Zappa, Sly Stone and Jimmie and Stevie Ray Vaughan. And he eventually gained a strong following of rappers/hip-hoppers with his deft wordplay and larger-than-life personality.

Watson continued to record and perform throughout the ‘80s and into the ‘90s. One of his biggest champions during this period was Zappa, who even credited the song “Three Hours Past Midnight” for motivating him to pick up the guitar. “One of the things I admired about him was his tone, this wiry, kind of nasty, aggressive and penetrating tone, and another was the fact that the things that he would play would often come out as rhythmic outbursts over the constant beat of the accompaniment,” Zappa said (from “Zappa, a Biography,” by Barry Miles). “It seemed to me that was the correct way to approach it, because it was like talking or singing over a background. There was a speech influence to the rhythm.” Watson appeared on several of Zappa’s later albums, although mainly as a vocalist.

As I referenced at the top of the post, Watson went out in a blaze of glory. He dropped dead on stage in Yokohama, Japan, right in the middle of one of his funky-ass guitar solos. Reportedly, his last words were “ain’t that a bitch.” And I ain’t makin’ that shit up.

Before I Let You Go

At this point, I need to direct you to two videos on youtube, neither of which I’m able to host on my site. They show Johnny G in and his band in their prime, filmed live at a TV studio in Bremen, Germany in 1977. And they drive home the fact that Watson was one hell of a showman. Stick with Gangster of Love through the “calling all cars” schtick up front (if only to watch Watson ask his keyboard player what city they’re in) – the song starts at about the three minute mark. And on Ta-Ta, look how far up the neck of his guitar he places his capo, a la fellow Texans Gatemouth Brown and Albert Collins. Awesome solo too. So much soul:

• Gangster of Love
• I Want to Ta Ta You Baby

This next video is a surreal treat. As Frank Zappa was dying of cancer, his wife Gail would try to boost his spirits with Friday-night “salons” at his house – eclectic gatherings of musicians and artists who had little in common other than showing up in Zappa’s rolodex. “He liked to introduce people from entirely different musical traditions and see what happened when they played together,” Miles notes in “Zappa.” Filmed by the BBC in January ’93, this one includes Zappa’s long-time friend Watson as well as a trio of Tuvan throat singers, violinist L. Shankar and members of the Chieftains. Zappa died in December of that year.

One more piece of Watsonian lore… I found it interesting that, after guitarist Jimmie Vaughan parted ways with harp player/lead singer Kim Wilson and the Fabulous Thunderbirds in 1990, both men got in touch with their inner Watsons – Vaughan with a credible version of Motor Head Baby from his ’98 album “Out There,” and Wilson with this number that gives guitarist Duke Robillard a little room to burn too… She Moves Me/Kim Wilson with Duke Robillard

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:

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)