Rubber City Review

Just picked up a good read about the troubled marriage of rock and the boob tube: “TV a-Go-Go” by Jake Austen (producer of a cable-access children’s dance show that airs in Chicago). Austen traces the roots of rock on TV back to Bo Diddley’s first (and last) appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, on Nov. 20, 1955. Bo was told by the show’s producers to play Tennessee Ernie Ford’s hit Sixteen Tons. He later noted in his biography “Living Legend” that he deferred instead to his label, Chess Records, which was hoping to break a hit with the song Bo Diddley: “Chess tol’ me that if I’da did Sixteen Tons and not Bo Diddley, that would have been the end of my career right there.” Bo snubbed the producers and played his namesake single, which earned him a lifetime ban from America’s most popular variety show:

As Austen points out, the most remarkable thing about the video is the last 55 seconds as Bo became “intimately engaged with his guitar – a guitar with a distorted, damaged tone that sang like a human being in a voice simultaneously joyous and mournful. Diddley was rock ‘n roll’s first guitar hero.” Far more viewers watched Elvis the following year on the same show, but the King’s mild renditions of Don’t Be Cruel and Love Me Tender couldn’t match the power of Bo and band in ’55.

By the end of the decade, Dick Clark had built a financial empire around a show that served as the prototype for virtually every music-related program that followed: American Bandstand. Clark is often blamed for polluting the airwaves in the late ’50s and early ’60s with the sappy sounds of teen idols like Fabian and Frankie Avalon – a trend that benefited his Philadelphia-based business interests and cronies. But Austen notes that Bandstand gave birth to a whole slew of worthy imitators, including shows like Shindig, Hullabaloo and, starting in ’71, Soul Train. And let’s hand it to the ageless one for featuring a long list of garage bands on Bandstand and its eventual spin-off, Where the Action Is, which featured bands lip-synching at various outdoor locations (mostly beach-related). Here Music Machine mimes their hit Talk Talk at what appears to be a zoo:

Speaking of lip synching, Austen is fairly forgiving of this hoary showbiz tradition. Given the technical limitations of most Sixties’ TV studios (and outdoor locations), it was difficult to accommodate multiple bands and their equipment in one session. “If no one had lip synched there would have been no guests on those shows,” Austen points out. Many of these mimed performances serve as historical documents of artists ranging from Chuck Berry to the Rolling Stones. Austen also notes that some of the better artists – like James Brown and, later, Michael Jackson – turned lip synching into an art form. He singles out Brown’s dazzling footwork during a solo take on Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag (seen here) – a mic-less performance on Shindig that enabled the show’s producers to “create a powerful, original visual statement instead of focusing on being ethnographic rockumentarians capturing a ‘real’ live performance.”

Even some of the band-less moments have their unique pleasures… Those of you who have a taste for the truly bizarre will enjoy this Bandstand clip from 1966 as Don Van Vliet (aka Captain Beefheart) calls in to answer some questions and introduce his cover of the Willie Dixon tune Diddy Wah Diddy (“Who thought of the name of the group?” “I thought of the Captain Beefheart and the rest of the group thought of The Magic Band”).

American Bandstand also should be credited for spawning countless regional music shows, like The !!!! Beat (filmed in Nashville, broadcast in Dallas, and featured in our recent post on Gatemouth Brown), The Buddy Deane Show in Baltimore (inspiration for John Waters’ movie and Broadway musical Hairspray), and Upbeat in Cleveland. Austen describes Cleveland as “one of the great TV rock towns,” with Upbeat serving as a first-rate example of regional rock ‘n soul programming. I remember being captivated by the show as a kid and even admiring Upbeat’s slick and cheery host, Don Webster. And if there’s better footage from the show than this live performance of Otis Redding and band tearing through Can’t Turn You Loose, you need to send it my way. (Historical footnote: Redding’s ’67 appearance on Upbeat occurred the day before the plane crash that took his life.)

Given its many studios and vibrant music scene, LA gave rise to the most Bandstand-like programs in the country – Shivaree, Shebang and Groovy, to name a few. Here’s sort of a hybrid performance from Shivaree, with The Byrds singing live over a prerecorded backing track. This segment was hosted by Frankie Avalon and broadcast on May 8, 1965, only three days after the band’s TV debut. Interesting tidbit from “mcd220″ for you Byrdmaniacs out there: ‘If you listen carefully, you can hear Gene Clark’s baritone vocal part in the second chorus during ‘In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come following you.’ This part was NOT on the record; reason being is that Gene’s vocals were on the same track as Leon Russell’s electric piano, which was taken out of the mix.”

If you’ve got about eight minutes, you’ll want to check out this treasure trove of soul music from Shindig – great footage (both live and otherwise) of James Brown, Tina Turner and Booker T and the MGs:

Next up: The agony/ecstasy of psychedelic rock on TV.

Back in the heyday of Cleveland rock radio, this wildman named Murray Saul – sounding a lot like Howard Dean when he blew up his campaign for President – would usher in the weekend with a full-throttle rant on WMMS-FM. Here’s a taste from one of the station’s TV commercials, circa 1975:

Typically, Saul would stick it to the “slavedrivers” who owned us all week at the office or factory. Of course, that was back when most of us had office or factory jobs. Today, Saul’s rants seem like quaint reminders of an era when 5 p.m. on Friday was something worth celebrating. If you’re lucky enough to have a job today, it’s probably one of three low-paying gigs that keep you working all weekend. If not, well, Friday is just another day to smoke weed and hone your Xbox skills while waiting for your mom to get home so you can borrow her car.

I sort of enjoyed the whole ‘MMS “Home of the Buzzard” schtick, even though I was turned off by much of the station’s hard-rock playlist (did we really need to hear Ian Hunter’s “Cleveland Rocks” every four hours?). Which led me to wonder, what if I were in charge of picking the song that would officially kick off a weekend of unholy activity? What homage to hell-raising would I unleash on the populace, whipping thousands of worker bees into a frenzy of drinking, drug use and other forms of debauchery? Sure as hell wouldn’t be anything by Loverboy (with all due respect to ‘MMS fans around the world).

In my alternate universe, it could easily be something by Southern Culture on the Skids. “I got eight slappin’ pistons ri’cheer under my hood”… kind of says it all, doesn’t it? Sure, “just wrap your legs round these velvet rims and strap your hands across my engines” is a pretty cool come-on for a lost weekend together. But here in the real world, you only have a few seconds to make the pitch. So I’ll defer to SCOTS frontman Rick Miller and his timeless ode to parking-lot dating. Besides, how can you resist a song that name-checks Tony Joe White and announces its presence with the mighty cowbell? Voodoo Cadillac

In honor of The Black Keys’ new release dropping on December 6, I’ll simply point out that my favorite song on the album could wreak havoc any night of the week. Unfortunately, I can’t sample the cut without getting sued by my nephew. So let’s go back to one of the band’s more overlooked efforts, “Magic Potion,” and a tune that’s destined for the Garage Rock Hall of Fame. By the way, where would one locate such an establishment? Maybe Boone County, West Virginia – home of the one-man garage band, the late Hasil Adkins… or how about Link Wray’s “Three-Track Shack” on the family farm in Accokeek, Maryland? RCR’s phone lines are open… Your Touch

Those of you who reside on more rural routes probably like to start the weekend with a healthy dose of twang. Forget about that overprocessed horseshit you hear on modern country radio. Let’s revisit a honky tonk classic and one of the great career launchers of all time – the very first cut from Dwight Yoakam’s debut on the Reprise label. Once again, cars play a key role (hard to spend a memorable weekend without one). And thankfully, the guitars are in the capable hands of Pete Anderson, who along with Dwight led the “Back to Bakersfield” movement in the mid-‘80s. If it’s possible to make hillbilly music hip, those two guys pulled it off with this one: Guitars, Cadillacs

So Friday night rolls around, you’ve put in your 40+ at work, the next two days are all yours… but it still doesn’t seem like you have anything to celebrate. You can always ease into the weekend with a little blues, Jimmy Reed-style. Might help you face the facts – like, for example, your boss is a dick and you don’t get paid squat. Maybe this tune and a little “liquid courage” will help you set things straight on Monday morning. Good luck with that. Big Boss Man

I can already predict the comments. “How can you get the party started without the Bubba anthem, Freebird?” Well, I’ve hung out with a few bikers over the years… spent an evening or two at a Bourbon-fueled bonfire… experienced the primordial forces within this storied ballad-cum-guitar throwdown. I get it. But I’d rather start the weekend with Lucinda Williams spreading her own brand of Joy. This tune has no use for a ballad-style opening. It jumps in with a snarl and then works itself into a barely controlled rage. Which is how most people feel after five days at a dead-end job. So don’t hire me as your Friday-night DJ if you’re trying to escape reality. Joy

What’s the best party ever thrown? Woodstock. What was the best performance at Woodstock? Santana, hands down. OK, Sly and the Family Stone gave them a run for their money. But to me, Santana playing Soul Sacrifice defines Woodstock. And I can’t believe Carlos played as well as he did, watching his guitar neck writhe like a snake while he was tripping on acid (which is only more discouraging for the rest of us who can barely play straight). If I were head of the Rock Police, all drum solos would have been outlawed after Michael Shrieve tore it up at Woodstock. That dude from Rush can whirl around all he wants – he can’t touch what Shrieve laid down in ’69 (video below).

Now that I’ve downplayed Sly’s performance at Woodstock, I have to admit that he came up with one of my all-time favorite Friday-night jams: Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Agin). How can you hear that deep groove kick in – fueled by Larry Graham’s funky bass – and not want to jump up and shake something? I’m pretty sure this song helped popularize that unfortunate dance known as The Robot. But I’m willing to overlook that (and the title) to place it at or near the top of my list of weekend kick-starters. Hell, you could put another four or five tunes by Sly on that list. In fact, just slap on his Greatest Hits and stand back – someone’s about to hit the switch on this ‘bot. Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Agin)

We’ll close by taking one step back from Sly and paying tribute to the Godfather of Soul, James Brown. Forget about songs that build to a climax… This next tune starts with an explosion of sound and never lets up. The guy driving the beat is the original “Funky Drummer,” Clyde Stubblefield – someone who I’m sure didn’t miss Michael Shrieve’s attention back in the ‘60s. For a number of years, Stubblefield had a regular Monday-night gig at a small club in downtown Madison, Wisconsin (I understand he’s now ailing and in need of a new kidney… if anyone has an update on Clyde, set me straight). If you need the aural equivalent of a kick in the ass, bring this to the party and watch your backside. There Was A Time

Santana at Woodstock, with a 20-year-old Michael Shrieve. The only drum solo you’ll ever hear on this site. It’s been 42 years since this performance… Can any modern-day jam band touch this?

From the sublime to SCOTS… The wizards of white trash extol the many virtues of the Mojo Box:

Think of the many streams that flow into that big river called early rock ‘n roll – blues, gospel, R&B, doo-wop, country… You can hear all of those influences and maybe a few others (Southern Gothic?) in the music of The “5” Royales, one of the greatest and most overlooked acts of the Fifties and Sixties.

Even if you’ve never heard of The “5” Royales, you’re probably familiar with their work. The Mamas & The Papas turned one of their most popular songs, Dedicated To The One I Love, into a massive hit in 1967 (topping The Shirelles’ version from six years earlier). James Brown scored his first Top 40 hit in 1960 by turning up the heat on The Royales’ slow-burning original Think. And Ray Charles’ last hit for Atlantic Records was a 1960 cover of the band’s R&B classic Tell the Truth (with vocals by Raelette Margie Hendrix).

But those songs just scratch the surface of this band’s amazing legacy, which remains buried under an avalanche of reissues involving far-less-deserving artists (good luck finding Rhino’s two-disc Royales anthology “Monkey Hips and Rice” – a thing of great beauty and majesty – but how about four discs devoted to one shitty album, “Band on the Run”?).

Time for our mandatory background check… The nucleus of The “5” Royales was formed in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, which also gave us Camel cigarettes, Krispy Kreme doughnuts and John Tesh (sorry, took a side-trip to wikipedia). And the band’s roots were decidedly in the gospel tradition.

The Royales’ signature sound was built around two members in particular – songwriter and guitarist extraordinaire Lowman Pauling and wailing lead vocalist Johnny Tanner. Pauling and Tanner started singing together in a gospel group called The Royal Sons. That band eventually included vocalists Otto Jeffries, Jimmy Moore and Obadiah Carter – the starting lineup along with Pauling and Tanner when The Royals became The “5” Royales in 1952 (pronounced roy-ALS, with the quote marks used to account for an early six-man lineup that included singer Johnny Holmes).

Here’s a gospel number recorded by The Royal Sons in New York City and released by the Apollo label in 1952: Let Nothing Separate Me

But The “5″ Royales started to gain some traction with a tougher, R&B based sound – and songs covering topics that you don’t hear about in church: Right Around the Corner

That tune was written by a couple of staff writers at Cincinnati-based King Records, where The Royales landed in 1954. But the vast majority of the band’s songs came from Pauling, who combined a keen wit with an uncommon sense of drama. A few of his tunes – most notably, Monkey Hips and Rice – had unlikely sources of inspiration, as Ed Ward points out in his generous liner notes to the Rhino anthology:

“One day on tour, the group was eating in a luncheonette when a customer cracked the place up by coming in and announcing in a loud voice, ‘Just gimme a plate of those monkey hips and rice.’ A light went on in Pauling’s eyes, and there was their next new song. Certainly punishing poor Geneva by beating her ‘down and down’ with a chair is uncalled for, but it probably should be taken in the same cartoonish spirit as the meal. (Next time you’re near a monkey, check out how much meat you’d get off its hips.)” Monkey Hips and Rice

The “5” Royales recorded a number of jump blues classics in the early Fifties. But the band entered a different realm in ’57 when Pauling began to cut loose on guitar. The sound of those gospel-infused vocals framed by Pauling’s gutbucket guitar is one of the great joys of rock ‘n roll, and you really don’t hear that sound anywhere else. It’s the perfect fusion of all those influences I mentioned up front, with no compromises and nothing diminished. Pauling’s blues is just as powerful as Tanner’s churchy vocals. Call it pure American soul: Say It

Speaking of soul, that tune betrays a far deeper side to Pauling’s songwriting – one that had little to do with clever phrases and double entendres. As Ward points out, “You just can’t put something like this out and expect those happy teens to snap it up.” Which might help explain why The “5” Royales remain virtually unknown while the teen idols who followed (Frankie Avalon, Fabian, Connie Francis, etc.) are still household names.

King managed to score a minor hit earlier in ’57 with Think. I was familiar with J.B.’s version long before I found the “Monkey Hips” anthology in a Lexington record store (god bless CD Central), so I was floored when I first heard the rocking, mid-tempo groove of the Royales’ original, punctuated by some nasty riffs from Pauling’s guitar. Don’t get me wrong – can’t do without the Famous Flames. But the original is an equally satisfying slice of wonder: Think

At this point, I should mention that Pauling was a big influence on a young Steve Cropper, who generously credited his mentor – and Pauling’s playing on Think in particular – when Cropper was earning his reputation as the king of soul guitar in the ‘60s.

“I think it was Lowman’s licks and stance that were unforgettable to me,” Cropper said (from 429 Records). “He had a way of weaving his fills in when there was a hole in the melody and vocal, then he would get right back to the rhythm. Early on, I drew my rhythm influences from Bo Diddley, whose solo picking I loved, but Lowman did a lot of stuff that no one could really duplicate. As cool as it was to see the way he worked with the strap live (Pauling would use a long strap to keep his guitar real low – down by his knees – then cradle his axe and let the strap hit the floor when he played leads), he was good to listen to on record too because of those amazing fills. As I began working as a session guitarist, I applied a cardinal rule that I learned from watching and listening to Lowman. You don’t step on top of the singer. You’re there to lend support until your time for a solo comes up.”

Although they didn’t tear up the charts in the late ‘50s, The “5” Royales fit right in with King Records’s fearsome stable of artists, including James Brown, Hank Ballard and Little Willie John. King’s long-time producer, Henry Glover (who also worked with the band at Apollo), seemed to understand how to capture the essence of a band that, by all accounts, was tearing it up on stage damn near every night.

Like most of the essential King releases of the era, there was little attempt to smooth out the rough edges. Glover and the label’s head, Syd Nathan, knew their audience – primarily urban blacks who wanted the real deal, not some lame imitation of what they were hearing in the clubs.

With Pauling’s guitar cranked up in the mix, The “5” Royales churned out an impressive (if largely ignored) body of work following the birth of rock. It’s hard to imagine how they missed anyone’s attention when you hear the original version of Dedicated To The One I Love. Johnny Tanner’s brother Eugene takes the lead vocals on this one, and I can’t decide what I like more – his great performance or Pauling’s meaty fills on guitar. Kind of makes you forget all about Mama Cass: Dedicated To The One I Love

As commercial success continued to elude them, various band members came and went in the early Sixties – and by 1965 the band was finished. Pauling struggled with alcohol and died of a seizure in ’73 (he was working as a night watchman in a New York City church). Other band members left secular music behind for good, including Johnny Tanner, who was the director of the senior choir at the St. John CME Church in Winston-Salem until he passed away in 2005.

Although nominated in 2002 and 2004, The “5” Royales have yet to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Abba was inducted last year. Do I really need to explain what’s wrong with this picture?

No videos that I could find of The “5″ Royales in their prime… But I included this static-image clip for three reasons: 1) good sound quality; 2) more great guitar by Pauling; and 3) rock critic Dave Marsh named this song one of “the top 1001 singles of all time” in his book The Heart of Rock and Soul.

“Dedicated,” Steve Cropper’s all-star tribute to The “5” Royales, will be released August 9 on 429 Records. Special guests include B.B. King, Delbert McClinton, Bettye LaVette, Buddy Miller, Lucinda Williams, Steve Winwood, Sharon Jones, Shemekia Copeland… I’m already wondering how they’re going to pull this off. Here’s how Cropper describes the experience: “…if I can get (young people) interested in The ’5′ Royales, I’ve done something. Lowman Pauling was a major influence on me, and I think what I got out of his playing was that as a one-man guitar he was able to play rhythm and then when it was acceptable, play fills or a solo. And I think that I carried that with me through my Stax days and most of the records I’m known for playing on, it’s that style of being one man on a session. His music is youthful, original, and full of spirit so that’s why I let his style influence me. It’s been the most fun I’ve had making a record in a long time.” Look for spirited remakes of The Slummer The Slum (Buddy Miller), Dedicated To The One I Love (Winwood and Williams), Say It (LaVette), Right Around The Corner (McClinton) and Think (recast by Cropper as an instrumental). I’ll give it a few listens and report back in a future post. Check here for a nice interview with Cropper about the project.

Last year, you couldn’t avoid hearing The Black Keys on TV. And I have to admit, it started to annoy me a little bit. But I realize their marketing strategy is dead right.

I mean, who listens to the radio anymore, unless it involves sports talk or NPR? And with the music industry such a fragmented mess, TV is now the new Top 40. But it’s more like a radio station programmed by a small army of ad agency geeks – which is a good thing, actually… far better than listening to something programmed within an inch of its life by so-called professionals sporting the latest Arbitron ratings.

And that means occasionally I get turned on to some pretty cool stuff just by watching my favorite TV shows. For a while I thought Mad Men was the best thing on cable. Turns out it’s quite possibly the third-best show on AMC, which also is home to the incredibly tense and satisfying series The Killing as well as my new personal favorite, Breaking Bad.

The latter is really an extended exercise in “what would you do under the same circumstances?” Chemistry whiz with dead-end teaching gig finds out he has cancer – and his lame-ass health care plan threatens to make his wife and son indigent upon his demise. What to do? Why not team up with a former student – now a full-time homey – and put their chemistry chops to work cooking the best crystal meth in the tri-state area?

Of course this traps our hero in a web of lies that could tear his family apart – which, to him, is a far greater concern than spending his last months in prison. Trust me, there are few better ways to waste an hour each week than following this cancer-ridden teacher and his cartoony sidekick down one rabbit hole after another. And Breaking Bad’s superb writing and direction have already earned it a boatload of Emmys (not that those haven’t gone to far less deserving programs).

Back to the music… One episode included a beautifully disturbing sequence that gave viewers an inside look at the meth supply chain. The show’s producers had the brilliant idea of juxtaposing the seedy footage against a jaunty little number by legendary New Orleans horn player Alvin “Red” Tyler: The Peanut Vendor. Actually, I didn’t know what the song was or who performed it, so I took a lengthy side trip on google to find out. Guess I should’ve checked youtube first… Here’s the clip:

My like/not so like relationship with the HBO series Treme continues with Season 2. The first season ended with John Goodman’s seething character, a professor at Tulane, doing himself in by jumping off a ferry. Which was fine with me, because I found him annoying – and I’m secretly hoping a couple of other characters on the program follow Goodman’s lead.

I keep coming back to Treme because of the one thing the program consistently gets right: the music. It’s always been a life-affirming force in New Orleans, but even more essential post-Katrina as local musicians and entrepreneurs like Antoine Batiste (played by the wonderful Wendell Pierce) struggle with a number of indignities – both self-inflicted and otherwise – in their day-to-day lives.

I’ve been hooked on New Orleans music for quite some time, so I can’t say the show has exposed me to a lot of songs and performers I wasn’t aware of already. But they did throw me a curve in the finale of the first season with a tune by the Baby Dodds Trio. Dodds was a Crescent City drummer who played with Louis Armstrong and King Oliver, among others. Although he spent many years living outside of New Orleans, his stock in trade was a syncopated, improvisational style of drumming that owed everything to his hometown. My Indian Red also features singer and banjoist Danny Barker. It’s an expression of pride and strength among Mardi Gras Indians: “We don’t bow down on nobody’s ground.” Here’s the scene from Treme that featured the song in its entirety:

The award for best use of a Black Keys song in a TV show or commercial goes to… Eastbound and Down – the ongoing saga of washed-up pitcher and part-time philosopher Kenny Powers. In this scene from the first episode, Powers makes his not-so-triumphant return to his old middle school in Shelby, North Carolina, to start a new job as a substitute physical education teacher. Gives me goose bumps every time I watch it:

As much as I try to avoid them, commercials are about 20 times more tolerable when they use the right soundtrack. This one has some powerful images, but the real star of the show is the Godfather of Soul, James Brown (then again, using Super Bad with an HR training video would still pack a wallop):

And of course the best music on TV is often saved for booze. I’m sure a few of you will tell me that there’s something inherently wrong with a tune that’s used to flog beer or liquor. I say bullshit. Listen to this steamy little number by Cold War Kids and tell me it doesn’t stand on its own merits without the help of Heineken, which tagged it for a TV spot several years ago: Mexican Dogs/Cold War Kids

Love that opening riff… but it still doesn’t match my favorite beer commercial soundtrack of all time – by the Master of the Telecaster, Albert Collins: Kool Aide/Albert Collins

I’ll close with another alcohol-fueled number, this one prominently featured in a new TV spot promoting the hard stuff (Jack Daniels). It’s a cover of Slim Harpo’s King Bee by a nasty little garage band from the Bay Area called the Stone Foxes. I think these guys are onto something… even if it has the whiff of a certain two-piece from the Rubber City: I’m a King Bee/The Stone Foxes

We’re in full holiday mode here in the Rubber City – plenty of white stuff on the ground and white people in our malls searching for Susan Boyle’s latest CD.

Now I’ve got nothing against Ms. Boyle, who recently released a Christmas album called “The Gift.” And I’m sure the album will hit its sales targets without RCR’s support. But when it comes to holiday-themed music, I prefer something with more of an edgy, go-for-broke, Santa’s been drinkin’ again vibe. The kind of music that typically doesn’t get piped into a Wal-Mart store. James Brown’s Funky Christmas. Blue Yule. Christmas Greetings from Jamaica’s Studio One. Hillbilly Holiday. Anything by Otis Redding, Billie Holiday, Amos Milburn or Sister Rosetta Tharpe will do just fine too.

With that in mind, here’s Rubber City Review’s second annual holiday song roundup – the perfect soundtrack for sharing a yule log with that special friend or loved one.

I love the fact that James Brown appears in “Ski Party,” a b-movie with Frankie Avalon about non-stop hi-jinx on the high slopes of Idaho (video clip at end of post). And I don’t think it’s ever fully explained how J.B. and his Famous Flames got there, or how they became the resort’s resident ski patrol. That’s a long way from Augusta G-A (although I’m sure the Godfather of Soul’s fabulous footwork would serve him well on the slopes). I’m far more comfortable with the idea of J.B. reinventing the classic Christmas song with more urban fare like Go Power at Christmas Time and Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto. Here’s another fine funky take on the holiday season from the world’s most soulful Santa: Let’s Make Christmas Mean Something This Year/James Brown

When Jamaican music legend Clement “Cosxone” Dodd founded his Studio One label back in ’54, I don’t think he had holiday songs in mind. But when you record as many artists as he did – Bob Marley and the Wailers, Lee “Scratch” Perry, Toots and the Maytals, The Skatalites and The Ethiopians, to name a few – you’re bound to come up with a few holiday gems. The “Christmas Greetings from Studio One” collection delivers the goods and then some with tunes by Marley, Toots, The Silvertones and other masters of ska and reggae. Think Christmas on the beach with a string of lights hanging from a palm tree, a case of Red Stripe, some jerk chicken… well, I’ll just leave it at that. Jingle Bells/Roy Richards

Christmas in California is another alien concept to those of us who spend much of the holiday season chipping ice and blowing snow. But we can always dream. And sometimes we drift away on thoughts of bikini beach parties at twilight, with freshly scrubbed kids named Bif, Binky, Tad and Ginger dancing around an open fire to the sound of twangy guitars against the crashing surf. Then the snow plow slams into the curb outside and it’s back to reality. Screw it… Time to hit the hard stuff, drop the needle on “The Ventures Christmas Album” and start twisting the night away. Where the hell did I put that goose-down Speedo? Jingle Bell Rock/The Ventures

What about the guy who has everything? You know, Magnavox hi-fi, portable wet bar, leopard-skin furniture, Philco TV… Maybe he’s never had his mind blown by the exotic sounds of Esquivel – his piano, orchestra and chorus. Let’s go right to the liner notes from “Esquivel! Merry Xmas from the Space-Age Bachelor Pad” (Hoboken’s Bar/None label): “Mingle ‘round your tinsel-draped Sputnik, flick on the twinkling lights, fix up a libation if you like, and let Esquivel’s otherworldly sounds transport you into Santa’s saucer, high in the stratosphere on Christmas eve.” I’m sure this would’ve sounded great on my dad’s home-built Heathkit, if only he could’ve fixed that annoying buzz in the left channel… White Christmas/Esquivel

Many posts ago, we talked about the glory years of Cincinnati’s legendary King Records label and studio. And I’m surprised it’s taken me this long to come across “Merry Christmas, Baby,” a compilation of holiday-flavored King R&B. How can you lose with a lineup that includes Charles Brown (Merry Christmas Baby), Lowell Fulson (Lonesome Christmas, Pts. 1 and 2), Lloyd Glenn (Sleighride) and Johnny Moore’s Blazers (Christmas Letter)? Richmond, VA, native Mabel Scott scored a hit with this next tune back in 1948, a year before she became Charles Brown’s wife for about a New York minute. After a second marriage failed in the mid-‘50s, Scott went back to her gospel roots and left the more secular pleasures of boogie woogie behind: Boogie Woogie Santa Claus/Mabel Scott

Time to drag Santa through the honky tonk, pour some whiskey over his head and toss him out the back door. Last year we featured Daddy’s Drinking Up Our Christmas by Commander Cody – one of several roasted chestnuts on “Hillbilly Holiday,” a great collection of country-flavored Christmas tunes. Let’s revisit that bonanza of backwoods fun with Brenda Lee, the 4 foot 9 inch dynamo from Atlanta. Lee scored a hit in 1960 with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, which actually was recorded two years earlier. But it wasn’t her first holiday rodeo. This next tune was the B side of a 1956 single (w/ Christy Christmas) aimed squarely at the kids, but with just enough of the honky tonk in it to keep the barflies happy too. I’m Gonna Lasso Santa Claus/Brenda Lee

I’ve always wanted to spend the holidays in New Orleans. But I fear my Christmas spirit would be tested in a city where the nights are far from silent and holy. At least I could sober up listening to the sacred sounds of the world-famous Zion Harmonizers. They started as a quartet of teenagers back in 1939, singing traditional spirituals in the churches of New Orleans’ old Zion City neighborhood. Now they’re a powerful sextet that likes to mix it up a little bit with more modern arrangements of tunes like Down By The Riverside, and tourists can sometimes catch them at the House of Blues’ Sunday Gospel Brunch. I’m sure more than a few omelets go uneaten when they launch into this tune (special thanks to Bill Austin in St. A for this one): White Christmas/The Zion Harmonizers

As long as we’ve got the gospel spirit, let’s close this one out with the pride of Cotton Plant, Arkansas – Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Here she gives O Little Town of Bethlehem the sanctified treatment. Sister Rosetta also recorded a few blues and R&B numbers during her remarkable career, and she never got enough credit for serving as an inspiration to Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash – virtually anyone who recorded at Sun Studios during the ‘50s. And brothers and sisters, could she play some guitar (visual evidence provided in video below). Dear readers, repent for your sins… throw away those holiday CDs by Sting, Michael Bublé, Mariah Carey and the like, and get right with someone who really knows how to throw down a Christmas song: O Little Town of Bethlehem/Sister Rosetta Tharpe

Here’s James Brown and his Famous Flames entertaining a ski lodge full of shiny happy prepsters (notice how quickly J.B. and Flames head out the back door when the performance is over)…

And here’s one of the few living documents – video or otherwise – of Sister Rosetta’s amazing prowess on electric guitar:

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