Rubber City Review

Stevie Ray and Jimmie Vaughan

Want to stare into the very depths of someone’s soul, or at least find out if a long drive together is a bad idea? A few of the following questions about music preferences might help. Beatles or Stones (which we covered here)… Jimmy Cliff or Bob Marley… Loretta Lynn or Tammy Wynette… Allman Brothers or Lynyrd Skynyrd… John Coltrane or Miles Davis… Radiohead or Coldplay… Captain or Tennille…

And don’t let your subject off the hook. If someone can’t take a stand either way, that just means he/she is unworthy of your trust.

I’ll throw another one into the mix – Stevie Ray or Jimmie Vaughan… The former, obviously, is one of the most celebrated guitarists of the last 30 years. A guitarist who, for better or worse, had an impact on virtually every blues-based stringbender who followed. A once-in-a-generation talent who might even be more popular dead than he was alive.

But put me down for Jimmie, and not because I didn’t have utmost respect for his brother. Like thousands of other students of the instrument, I made several pilgrimages to see SRV live and left convinced that I’d witnessed the Most Amazing, Death-Defying Act Under the Big Top. But Jimmie’s the guy you come across on your way to the parking lot… He’s sitting on the edge of a rail car playing gutbucket blues through a broke-dick amp as a few strippers and circus freaks slow-dance nearby. In other words, a little closer to the blues according to Charlie Patton and Robert Johnson.

Actually, one of the first times I heard Jimmie Vaughan’s guitar was back in ’81 at a strip joint in Newport, Kentucky – across the river from Cincinnati. Of course I was dragged there by my friends to see Miss Nude Memphis (which seemed slightly more promising than paying to see Miss Nude Paducah across the street). And I have to admit, Memphis didn’t disappoint. Most of the other girls danced to bad ‘80s rock, but the Memphis Belle whipped out The Fabulous Thunderbirds’ first album and what seemed like an entire vat of massage oil, and I’ve been a fan ever since – of Vaughan that is… not sure what happened to Belle, or the oil. Rich Woman

Eventually I caught Vaughan and the T-birds at a small club in Dayton. Even though the band went on to become a minor sensation in the mid-‘80s with songs like Powerful Stuff and Wrap It Up, they always seemed a little uncomfortable playing larger theaters and summer “sheds.” They were right at home in that Dayton dive, though… and I was a little worried at one point that Vaughan’s thick, smoky guitar would set off the club’s fire sprinklers. I’m a Good Man

Vaughan eventually left the T-birds behind – which I always respected because I’d already lost interest in the band when they torqued up their sound for a major label. And at least from a creative standpoint, his career as a solo artist has been far more rewarding than even I would’ve predicted.

First, we found out that he has a soulful and expressive voice – an instrument that he never used with the T-birds (granted, Kim Wilson is a tough act to follow). Here’s one of his early forays into lead singing: Love the World

He also had the extreme good taste to hire Bill Willis on organ and George Rains on drums.

Rains, Vaughan and Willis

Willis is a guy who clearly deserves his own blog post, having served as a staff bassist at King Studios and contributed to many of the label’s legendary recordings by James Brown, Freddie King, Little Willie John, Bill Doggett (responsible for one of the great instrumentals of all time, Honky Tonk) and many others. Here Willis lays down the low end for one of Freddie’s signature songs: I’m Tore Down

Willis eventually persuaded Doggett to show him a few tricks on organ, and he’s been ridin’ the B3 ever since, recording and performing with the likes of LaVerne Baker and Floyd Dixon. He does it Jimmy Smith-style, kicking out funky bass lines on the B3’s foot pedals. Here he locks in tight with Vaughan and Rains (and special guest Joe Sublett on sax) on a tune that recalls the glory years of the organ combo: Tilt A Whirl

Vaughan’s other secret weapon, Rains, should be considered a legend simply for joining the San Francisco lineup of the Sir Douglas Quintet back in ’68. The Texas expat helped made border-rock history on cuts like Mendocino and Nuevo Laredo before moving back to Austin and joining the city’s fertile blues scene back in the Seventies. Rains served as de facto house drummer for Clifford Antone’s record label and club, where he probably sat in with Vaughan more times than he can remember. Clearly, he never met a shuffle he couldn’t nail down tight: Kinky Woman

That’s the solid core Vaughan started with back in ’94 with his first solo release, “Strange Pleasure.” Everything else was gravy. Rich, tasty gravy. Gospel/doo-wop vocals, second guitar (including flamenco on one tune), vibes, sax… and one very dangerous blues mama, Lou Ann Barton, who adds plenty of spice to a few of Vaughan’s best moments as a solo artist: In the Middle of the Night

My favorite Vaughan album – “Do you get the blues?” – had the unfortunate distinction of being released on September 11, 2001. But it didn’t take me long to appreciate its many joys, which probably served as little subconscious reminders that all was not lost post-9/11. Let’s put it this way – it damn sure gave me more of a healing feeling than Charlie Daniels’ “This Ain’t a Rag, It’s a Flag.” I especially latched onto this soulful little number that finds Vaughan settling into a slow groove with his son, Tyrone, on rhythm. In fact, I’d like to hear more of Vaughan exploring that same sweet spot that his idol, Johnny “Guitar” Watson, found between blues and funk: Without You

Speaking of Watson, I’m not sure if anyone captures the bite and sass of that bluesy-funky sound better than Vaughan. Exhibit A: Motor Head Baby

Vaughan recently followed up on his fine 2010 release, “Plays Blues, Ballads & Favorites,” with “Plays More Blues, Ballads & Favorites.” OK, maybe not the most innovative marketing concept… but definitely more vintage Vaughan – smart, in-the-pocket blues-based goodness. And definitely a few cuts above your standard contemporary blues fare. Here’s a taste from the earlier release – a blazing instrumental that proves Vaughan is only getting better with age: Comin’ and Goin’

Vaughan live, with his tribute to brother Stevie Ray. Abrupt ending, but pretty sweet slice of JLV in action…

It’s time to bring back the funk of Johnny “Guitar” Watson.

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: