Rubber City Review

Time for our long-overdue follow-up to this post, in which we reported that the soul music revival had finally made its way to the Rubber City. I wasn’t suggesting that Eighties Rock is now out of favor – it’s still the dominant soundtrack in most theme bars (Scorchers, Scoreboards, Skittles, Scooters, Scumsuckers… must I go on?). But a few enterprising DJs are starting to make people far younger than me appreciate classic Stax-Volt soul and its many mutations.

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…

How’s that for a blowhard title?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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