Rubber City Review

In previous posts, we covered a lot of fertile ground in southwest Ohio – King Records, Fraternity Records, Lonnie Mack, Roger Troutman… But the picture wouldn’t be complete without the man who introduced Lonnie to his first Magnatone amp – Robert Ward.

I first discovered Ward through his recordings for the New Orleans-based Black Top label, starting with the much-acclaimed “Fear No Evil” in 1991. Then I tracked down an outstanding collection of singles that Ward recorded in the Sixties. The compilation was released in ’95 on the tiny Relic label, an offshoot of a vintage record store in Hackensack, NJ. And the title, “Hot Stuff,” actually falls short of describing the raging inferno within. This is hard-grinding, hair-raising soul music of the highest order.

Let’s start with an incendiary workout recorded in 1962 at Cincinnati’s King Records studio. It features Ward and the Ohio Untouchables backing up one of the greatest vocal groups ever assembled – The Falcons, with eventual soul stars Wilson Pickett (lead), Eddie “Knock on Wood” Floyd and Sir Mack Rice: I Found a Love/The Falcons

I suppose a little background is in order here… It’s not hard to find a decent bio of Ward (and “Hot Stuff” includes excellent liner notes by Bill Dahl), so I’ll try to stick with the high points:

• Born in Luthersville, Georgia, in 1938 and grew up in poverty with four brothers
• Inspired by gospel-singing dad and guitar-pickin’ mom, who gave him his first axe when he was 10 years old (a gift from a white family whose house she was cleaning)
• Also exposed to blues and gospel through his parents’ 78 RPM records – Sister Rosetta Tharpe, the Dixie Hummingbirds, John Lee Hooker, Jimmy Reed and Muddy Waters, among other favorites
• Played on a local radio station with a country and western band, using his slide guitar to mimic a pedal steel
• Served in the Army from ‘57 to ‘59
• Returned home to form his first serious band, the Brassettes, which shared a gig with James Brown before touring steadily with the legendary bluesman Piano Red

Which brings us to Dayton, Ohio, where Ward moved in 1960 to find “a better way of living.”

Down the road in Cincinnati, Lonnie Mack was perfecting his lightning-fast runs on guitar with stunning instrumentals like Wham and Memphis. Meanwhile, in Dayton, Ward had formed the Ohio Untouchables with bassist Levoy Fredrick (replaced by Marshall Jones in ’61) and drummer Cornelius Johnson – and later rounded out by Pee Wee Middlebrook and Clarence Satchell on horns. “I was thinking about Robert Stack and ‘The Untouchables’ on TV,” he told Dahl. “I said ‘Well, they’re the untouchables in stopping crime. I want to accumulate a band where we’ll be up there with the best and be unstoppable.’”

Here’s more evidence that Ward had achieved his stated goal: Forgive Me Darling/The Ohio Untouchables

Ward’s signature sound involved the thick, organ-like vibrato of the Magnatone amp. And Mack didn’t hesitate to get his own Magnatone after catching Ward’s act in Indiana. On this tune, recorded in Cincinnati in 1963, you can hear Ward’s obvious influence on his protégé Mack: The Bounce/Lonnie Mack

After listening to Black Top-era Ward, it was a revelation for me to hear earlier versions (both with and without the Ohio Untouchables) of his originals like Fear No Evil, Your Love is Amazing and My Love is Strictly Reserved for You. These and other standouts first appeared in the early to mid ‘60s on Detroit-based labels LuPine (whose producer, Robert West, first signed the Ohio Untouchables in 1962), Thelma and Groove City. Here’s the original version of My Love, with powerful singing by Ward. Should’ve been a massive soul hit… My Love is Strictly Reserved for You/Robert Ward

Ward and the Ohio Untouchables parted ways in 1965, with his former band destined for fame and fortune as the superfunky Ohio Players (Love Rollercoaster) and Ward eventually moving on to Detroit to do session work at Motown. If you think you’re new to Ward, think again – you probably heard him on Papa was a Rolling Stone by the Temptations and this unavoidable hit from 1971 by the Undisputed Truth: Smiling Faces Sometimes/the Undisputed Truth

Ward’s life took some tragic and unfortunate turns in the ‘70s and ‘80s with the death of his first wife in ’77 (cerebral hemorrhage) and a year in a Georgia prison, where he played in a band with former hitmaker Major Lance. But much like our recent subject Snooks Eaglin, Ward was rescued from near-obscurity by Black Top co-owner Hammond Scott.

Those who take their blues straight up tend to have pretty strong opinions about the Black Top sound. I’ll share the musings of our friend The Hound about Robert Ward’s recordings for the label:

“I find Black Top one of the most offensive labels of the 90′s blues revival in that they could make lame records with some of the finest artists of all time (Snooks Eaglin being another who comes to mind) by attempting to make their discs 90′s radio friendly, as if Robert Ward’s record was going to get airplay next to Madonna.”

A little harsh? Maybe… and I’ll cop to being a fan of Ward’s ‘95 release, “Black Bottom,” which includes a rock-solid remake of Johnnie Taylor’s soul classic Toehold: Toehold/Robert Ward

But my favorites on that album are a couple of heartfelt ballads with spiritually inclined lyrics and soulful singing by Ward. Here’s one that always knocks me out: Silver and Gold/Robert Ward

On Ward’s final album – the 2000 Delmark release “New Role Soul” – he dispenses of heavy horns and other Black Top flourishes in favor of a more stripped-down sound. With a little less production gloss, this number wouldn’t sound out of place on a Groove City single: Never Found a Girl/Robert Ward

In his last years, Ward lived in rural Dry Branch, Georgia (not far from my mom’s hometown Milledgeville), with his second wife, Roberta, who contributed to “New Role Soul” as both a singer and songwriter. He suffered a stroke in 2001 and never really recovered. Ward passed away in 2008 – leaving behind an amazing musical legacy that seems to grow more vital as each season of American Idol drifts by.

Here’s the only live footage of Ward on youtube – from the Chicago Blues Fest, probably not long after he signed with Black Top. Many youtube videos of tattooed nimrods aping Stevie Ray Vaughan, and only one of Ward. Guess that’s why I do what I do. It’s not even a particularly great video of Ward. Just good enough to remind you how special this guy was. What a wonderfully soulful voice. Crank it up…

Although it may seem like we’re careening out of control now and then (“Thankless Jobs”), I started this blog with a simple, basic premise.

Over the years, I’ve collected a whole lot of music. And I haven’t always done it through legitimate means. So I finally figgered, I write good… I know a little bit about a lot of this stuff… I can’t possibly listen to all these tunes in one lifetime… and I probably should find something to do to offset all this bad karma I’ve taken on for file-sharing and other forms of digital thievery.

The solution? Rubber City Review. To use the parlance of shitty cinema, it’s just my small way of “paying it forward.” You’re welcome. (Speaking of compensation, don’t forget to purchase some of this music legitimately through the “picks” we provide at the end of each post… Mama needs a brand new pair of shoes.)

Hitting play on my iTunes library is like holding a small cup in front of a wide-open fire hydrant. So I use playlists to help me navigate through this teeming metropolis of artists and genres. Not all of these playlists make sense to other people (e.g. “Off Da Hook” and “Sausage”). But one of my favorites, “Sixties/Garage,” seems fairly bullet-proof – that is, until you open it up to debate among an entire universe of music nerds.

What exactly is garage rock? Is it rock music primarily conceived in a garage? Wikipedia defines it as “a raw form of rock and roll that was first popular in the United States and Canada from about 1963 to 1967.” But let’s face it, the garage itself originated in early-20^th Century England. So do you include the early sixties recordings of The Rolling Stones and The Kinks? I do… so throw me off the next panel discussion.

I view garage rock as a predecessor of punk; an antidote to a lot of the swill that seemed to find its way to the top of the pop charts in the early Sixties. Here’s just a short list of some of those hit songs:

• Theme from “A Summer Place” by Percy Faith (#1 in 1960)
• Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini by Brian Hyland
• It’s Now or Never by Elvis (movie-star Elvis)
• Wonderland by Night by the Bert Kaempfert Orchestra
• Tossin’ and Turnin’ by Bobby Lewis (#1 in 1961)
• Blue Velvet by Bobby Vinton
• Go Away Little Girl by Steve Lawrence (please, go away)
• Dominique by the Singing Nun (sorry, Sister Mary)

Not exactly what you’d call the golden age of rock ‘n roll – unless you include all the “nasty bits” (as Tony Bourdain would call them) floating just beneath the surface on both sides of the pond. Songs often performed by rank amateurs with a sense of abandon that had nothing to do with state-of-the-art studio equipment, string sections, backing vocals and constant tinkering by nervous producers trying to keep their jobs at the major labels.

Of course, like any other vital sub-genre of rock, garage had its glory years and at least two or three revivals – including ‘70s “garage punk” (Iggy Pop, The Ramones) and whatever you want to call contemporary bands like The Hives, The Vines and The Strokes. But we’ll focus on the first wave of garage rockers – and, of course, just the stuff that resides in my playlist. You gotta problem with that?

If I were to stay true to the form, I’d probably just pick 6-7 songs from the much-heralded “Nuggets” compilation assembled by Jac Holzman, founder of Elektra Records, and Lenny Kaye, before he played lead guitar for Patti Smith. “Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-1968” was released as a two-record set back in ’72, and Rhino Records expanded it into a box set issued in ’98. And it’s hard to argue with gems like this one, from Boston-area band The Remains: Don’t Look Back

But I’ve decided to play fast and loose with the whole garage label, hence the “Sixties/Garage” title. I always found it interesting that stateside bands like the Standells, the Beau Brummels and the Blues Magoos were heavily influenced by British Invasion bands like the Rolling Stones and the Kinks, which owed a huge debt to American blues. So where does the term garage apply? This next Jagger/Richards original from the Stones’ ’64 album “12×5” made my playlist, because it sounds every bit as sinister as tunes that groundbreaking garage-rock bands like the Sonics were recording at roughly the same time. And it signals one of the band’s first major departures from its blues-purist roots: Empty Heart

Speaking of the Sonics, no garage-influenced collection is complete without at least one song by this bruising quintet from Tacoma, WA. Gerry Roslie’s blood-curdling wail remains one of the great treasures of rock ‘n roll. And most of the band’s recorded output sounds like its members were whipped into a state of rage by a sadistic, maniacal producer. But I doubt that was the case, so I’ll just attribute it to grim weather and the logging industry: Psycho

Most people wouldn’t describe The Band as garage rockers. But they definitely gave off that vibe back in the early ‘60s, when they recorded as the Hawks with Canadian transplant Ronnie Hawkins. They also cut some tough-as-nails numbers without Hawkins – as Levon and the Hawks and, with this next tune, as The Canadian Squires. Pianist Richard Manuel handles the lead vocals on Uh Uh Uh, and to my ears, he sounds just like drummer Levon Helm. I also like Robbie Robertson’s throwaway harp playing on this tune. Never underestimate the power of a poorly played harmonica: Uh Uh Uh

Getting back to the Brits, the Kinks followed roughly the same trajectory as the Stones. They started out aping Muddy Waters, Slim Harpo and Jimmy Reed before realizing they could come up with a few decent songs of their own. And when Ray Davies started writing classics like Where Have All The Good Times Gone and Tired Of Waiting For You and this next one, the Kinks never looked back. Once again, we could argue til the cows come home if this qualifies as garage. Doesn’t matter… It’s my list, and the song stays: Til the End of the Day

My other favorite form of rock from the era is surf. And I think of guys like Link Wray and Lonnie Mack as the common ground between surf and garage rock – just like Freddie King blurred the lines between surf and blues. When you listen to an instrumental like Big City After Dark, it’s easy to imagine it being performed in the same space that’s used to store power tools, gasoline, motor oil and toxic bug spray. It’s from a ’62 single on the small Mala label under the moniker Ray Vernon and the Raymen (Link’s brother Vernon, who played rhythm and bass guitar and usually manned the 3-track Ampex recorder). This stunning act of depravity is from a collection of Wray rarities on the Norton label, whose proprietors describe it as “ultimate crime-inspiring whangery that spits, sweats and swaggers.” Amen: Big City After Dark

Lonnie Mack is probably too accomplished a musician to be considered “garage,” but he makes the cut on my playlist simply because rock music in the early ‘60s didn’t get any better than songs like Wham and Memphis. This next number also appeared on Mack’s ’64 release on the Cincinnati-based Fraternity label, “The Wham of That Memphis Man!” – an essential album by any standard. Here he covers a blues tune by Jimmy Reed. And even though it features background singers, Mack earns a pass by bringing in Gigi and the Charmaines, a rockin’ little R&B trio from the Queen City. If he had been signed to a big label, they would’ve replaced the Charmaines with Lily and the Whites: Baby What’s Wrong

If you like Lonnie, you’ll also dig “the Fastest Guitar Player in the South,” Travis Wammack. The native of Walnut, Mississippi, recorded his first album at the age of 11, and scored a minor hit in ’64 with the instrumental Scratchy when he was only 17. That scorching workout and 20 others produced by Sun Records session guitarist Roland Janes are included on “That Scratchy Guitar from Memphis,” a compilation on the German Bear Family label. Word has it that when Janes sent a copy of Scratchy to Chet Atkins, the Nashville legend sent it back with an unintended compliment: “This scares me. I pass.” Wammack went on to do session work in the ‘60s at FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals and ran Little Richard’s band from 1984 until 1995. He continues to dazzle audiences today with his lightning-fast licks, but he can also slow it down to play funky numbers like this one (must’ve inspired the ’74 hit Kung Fu Fighting… garage soul, maybe?): It’s Karate Time

I’ll close with a tune that was recorded at the tail end of garage rock’s glory years, and it’s by one of my favorite rockers of all time, Doug Sahm (aka Sir Douglas). I had the huge pleasure of seeing Doug and band – including the great Augie Meyers on farfisa – perform at a small club in San Antonio in May 1999, only a few months before Sahm passed away from a heart attack. He was in fine form, bitching about the dot-commers up in Austin and raving about the Spurs (some things never change). But mostly, for two blessed hours, he turned that crappy little dive into a groover’s paradise. R.I.P., Doug: You’re Doin’ It Too Hard

Here’s a real time-suck – a series of videos on youtube titled “60s Garage, Surf, Freakbeat & Psychedelic Music,” from the mysteriously named GrimlyFormingPW. With respect for your time, I only included one. You’re welcome.

Several posts ago (“King of the Independents”), we waxed poetic about Cincinnati’s King Records – home to legendary American artists ranging from the Stanley Brothers to James Brown.  But King wasn’t the only act in town.  Here’s part two of the story, a look back at Fraternity Records and “the Wham of that Memphis Man,” Lonnie Mack.  This post also includes a few more quotes from Shad O’Shea, a former Cincinnati record man, radio personality and raconteur who passed away in June of last year.

In the Fifties and Sixties, you had to look real hard in Cincinnati to find evidence of Fraternity Records, other than its occasional presence on the charts.  In fact, the local label probably went unnoticed by thousands of people who slept in the same building – the Sheraton Gibson (now the site of the downtown Westin Hotel).

That’s where Harry Carlson rented out a suite and did business through most of that period.  An aspiring songwriter and former big-band horn player from Nebraska, Carlson had developed relationships over the years with DJs and industry reps around the country.  From his hotel suite, he made deals with both local and national artists, and then jobbed out the actual recording to independent studios – including one in Chicago operated by another big-band veteran.  From there the master tapes were sent back to Room 105 at the Sheraton, where Carlson would listen to them and make the appropriate changes.  He would then send the tapes to a pressing plant in Indianapolis, where RCA took over distribution of the final product nationwide.  In other words, this was the antithesis of the huge King operation.

A good example of the Fraternity approach was in the off-handed way that the biggest chart hit to come out of Cincinnati was handled.  “Fraternity called me up and wanted me to go in and record a couple of songs,” said Lonnie Mack, the influential rock guitarist who lived just across the state line in southeastern Indiana.  “I went ahead and taped them and then left for a tour in Florida.  A friend drove down later and said he’d been listening to Memphis on the radio all the way down.” Memphis/Lonnie Mack

The year was 1963.  The song was an instrumental cover of the mild Chuck Berry hit.  Mack had worked it up as a fast-fingered guitar showcase while performing locally with his band, the Twilighters.  He scored again on Fraternity that same year with another hot instrumental – an original called Wham.  Here’s the unforgettable opening: Wham/Lonnie Mack

Several other Cincinnati and regional artists gained national exposure with hits on Fraternity.  Bobby Bare’s All American Boy made it to Number 1 in 1959, and Bare went on to a successful recording career in country music.  As late as 1967, the Casinos scored a big hit with Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye, recorded at King Studios.  Other acts on the Fraternity label included Jackie Shannon (later Jackie DeShannon), Jimmy Dorsey (who passed away shortly after hitting Number 1 in ’57 with So Rare), Cathy Carr (scoring in ’56 with Ivory Tower), and Dale Wright with the Rock-Its, another Cincinnati act that climbed the carts, with She’s Neat.

Here’s All American Boy, which was recorded as kind of an Elvis parody and originally attributed to Bare’s friend Bill Parsons when Fraternity mislabeled the single: All American Boy/Bobby Bare

Shad O’Shea became part of the Fraternity legend by buying the label from Harry Carlson for $25,000 back in 1975.  “You don’t buy a legend for $1.98,” he added.

A former top-rated DJ in the Sixties, O’Shea recorded a number of novelty singles on the Fraternity label under such dubious nom de plumes as Gonzales Bonaparte, Hy Bush and the Wild Cranberries, and Shad O’Shea and the McHamburger Helpers – local vanity projects that help keep the label alive until it faded away in the 1980s.  He also ran his own independent studio in the Cincinnati area and recorded artists for a number of other labels.

O’Shea felt it was his responsibility to put some life back into pop music.  “Rock and roll today is no fun,” he said back in 1982, when various hair bands were taking themselves way too seriously on the fledgling MTV network.  “It’s overproduced and too sophisticated – people just don’t get excited and stomp their feet anymore.  I’ll take those old records any day.  They were fun, invigorating, innocuous and, above all, exciting.”

The success of King and Fraternity records was directly based on that excitement, which is undeniable when you listen to the singles cut in Cincinnati by Lonnie Mack, Bobby Bare, Little Willie John, James Brown and many others.

That Memphis Man…

In ‘82, I had the good fortune of hunting down Mack at a small club just off Route 50 in Aurora, Indiana.  One door went into the bar, where some serious drinking was taking place, and the other went into the Party Room, where Mack and his band were playing to a fairly sparse crowd.  Cover charge: $1.50.

I was joined by a fellow writer who used the alias Harleigh Marlowe and lived with a stripper who worked the clubs across the river from Cincinnati in Newport, Kentucky (subject for another post?).  I’ll let Marlowe pick it up from there:

“We could see a sort of Charlie Daniels-ish figure slide quickly in place behind a mike, buckling on a dusky red Flying V guitar.  He had a big salt-and-pepper beard, an even bigger paunch, a deeply carved cowboy hat with adornments folded in, and levis and cowboy boots with real pointy toes.  Our eyes kept going back to the Flying V, though, mainly due to the authority and power in the blues runs coming out of it.  Make no mistake, that is Lonnie Mack up there, with more rock ‘n roll history in that red guitar of his than any other in the world except, of course, Chuck Berry’s.”

The locals seemed fairly disinterested until Mack launched into his hit, Memphis, which managed to get just about everyone out on the dance floor.  As Marlowe pointed out, “There is a certain respect for the great old songs, even if there is not automatic respect for the great old musicians.”

We were especially impressed with Mack’s voice – a gritty, powerful wonder.  Although we were aware of the “blue-eyed soul” songs he cut with Fraternity – tunes like Why and Satisfied – it still was a revelation hearing him sing up close and in person.  Here’s a fine vocal performance from 1963… Farther On Up The Road/Lonnie Mack

We introduced ourselves to Mack during a break and had a nice chat.  He was gracious and sincere, and seemed to appreciate the fact that we knew more than a few things about his music.  At the time, there were rumors that “personal problems” were holding up his career (we wisely chose to avoid that subject).  Mack mentioned that he’d been doing some work with Ronnie Hawkins in Canada, mostly playing oldies, and that seemed to him like a good place to start things up again.

Shortly after our visit, Mack moved to Texas and reconnected with Stevie Ray Vaughan, whose own career was beginning to take off.  Vaughan remained a strong friend and supporter throughout Mack’s comeback, which began with the 1985 release of his first album on Alligator Records, “Strike Like Lightning” (the album features a Mack-Vaughan guitar duet on a remake of Wham, re-titled Double Whammy).

You can find a surprisingly detailed and colorful look at Mack’s career on Wikipedia, of all places.  It includes an interesting account of his presence on The Doors’ “Morrison Hotel” sessions (apparently, he played some, if not all, of the guitar parts on Roadhouse Blues).  He also did a brief stint in a corporate job at Elektra Records, where he produced a gospel version of Let It Be and tried, but failed, to release it before the Beatles’ own version came out.  Mack currently lives in rural Tennessee, where he is reportedly working on a memoir.

Hope you’re doing well, Lonnie… Your Rubber City fan club (including its youngest member, Dan Auerbach) wishes you the best.

For you gear-heads out there… Lonnie Mack got that rich, swirling sound by playing his Gibson Flying V (he had the seventh one ever made) through a Magnatone amp, and using his guitar’s “whammy bar” to subtly bend a few notes for added effect.  Back in the late Fifties, Magnatone began offering the first amps with “true vibrato,” using electronic circuits to create cyclic changes in pitch.  Other amps claimed to offer vibrato but in fact could only muster a tremolo effect (cyclic changes in volume).  Then there was the Leslie speaker system (commonly used with the B3 organ) – sort of a hybrid that produced obvious changes in volume with the unit’s rotating speaker as well as a subtle vibrato through the resulting doppler effect.  That’s as far as I’m willing, or able, to take that technical discussion.

Vibrato vs. tremolo aside, Mack’s sound was truly unique – and he admits to copping it from Robert Ward, who at the time was living and gigging some 50 miles north of Cincinnati in Dayton.  A native of Georgia, Ward formed the Ohio Untouchables (who later became the Ohio Players) in 1960 – three years before Mack’s groundbreaking singles were released on Fraternity.  Ward’s amplifier of choice?  The Magnatone.  Here’s Ward backing a young Wilson Pickett in a tune recorded at Cincinnati’s King Studios in 1962…  I think it’s fairly easy to hear the strong influence that Ward had on Mack: I Found A Love/The Falcons (Wilson Pickett with Robert Ward)

Lonnie Mack on Video… Not a lot to choose from, but the opening to Stop – recorded at Carnegie Hall in 1985 – shows you how Mack worked the whammy bar on his Flying V to add a little more emphasis to his “vibrato-drenched” sound.  It also serves as ample proof of his soulful singing.  Stick with the Dickey Betts interview – Lonnie starts playing about 30 seconds in…

Rock-A-Bop… The androgynous-looking woman with the pompadour on the cover of “All American Rock ‘n’ Roll” is Sparkle Moore, better known to her family in Omaha as Barbara Morgan (a lot of aliases in this post… Mack was born Lonnie McIntosh, and Marlowe’s girlfriend used the less-than-original stage name Pussy Galore).  In case you’re wondering what Sparkle’s 1956 Fraternity single Rock-A-Bop sounds like, here it is… Not what I’d call essential rockabilly, but still entertaining: Rock-A-Bop/Sparkle Moore

I have this theory about the Beach Boys… that people who live in northern, land-locked areas, where it’s brutally cold nearly half of the year, have little patience for their well-crafted odes to the surfer lifestyle.  And this theory has, for the most part, proven true – although it doesn’t begin to explain why people in the Midwest have no problem dressing up like Carmen Miranda to go to Jimmy Buffett concerts.

One thing is certain:  There are few greater pleasures in rock ‘n roll than a finely executed surf instrumental.  And if you expand the definition to include “surf-influenced” songs, then you bring into the tent some of the best guitarists of any genre – from Link Wray and Lonnie Mack to Freddie King and Albert Collins.

Sure, there are the classic surf instrumentals that even my mother could reel off – Walk Don’t Run by the Ventures, Telstar by the Tornados, Wipe Out by the Surfaris, Misirlou by Dick Dale and the Del-Tones, Pipeline by the Chantays… all flawless songs that belong in the “Surf Guitar Retrospective: A Half Century of Reverb” at the Smithsonian.

But that’s just the tip of the board (let me shut off this metaphor machine before it spits out “hidden treasures in the sand”).  In fact, modern surf-guitar gems are being cut by the likes of Southern Culture on the Skids, Los Straitjackets and James Wilsey.  And it’s our job here at Rubber City Review to give you the digital warning signs you need before wading into these murky musical waters (where is that goddam switch?).

Of course, there are countless treasures from the heyday of surf guitar, the early Sixties.  Unfortunately, the best collection of Sixties surf instrumentals I ever came across – “Guitar Player Presents Legends of Guitar: Surf, Vol. 1” – has long been out of print, and I’m fairly certain that Rhino Records never got around to issuing Vol. 2.  The beauty of this collection is that it assumes you already have the touchstones like Wipe Out and Telstar and are looking to dig a little deeper.  It’s a great mix of the familiar and obscure, and everything on it is first-rate.  Here’s the track listing (and four samples) in case you want to try to find these tunes online:

1. A Run for Life – Dick Dale
2. Surf Rider – The Lively Ones
3. Beyond – The Chantays
4. Latin’ia – The Sentinels: Latin’ia
5. Baja – The Astronauts
6. Squad Car – Eddie & The Showmen
7. Tidal Wave – The Challengers
8. Tally Ho! – PJ & The Galaxies
9. Diamond Head – The Ventures Diamond Head
10. Soul Surfer – Johnny Fortune Soul Surfer
11. Bombora – The (Original) Surfaris
12. The Jester – Jim Messina & His Jesters
13. Gypsy Surfer – The Avantis
14. Our Favorite Martian – Bobby Fuller & The Fanatics
15. Bustin’ Surfboards – The Tornadoes
16. Point Panic – The Surfaris
17. Mar Gaya – The Fender IV Mar Gaya
18. Fiberglass Jungle – The Crossfires

The more adventurous can check out a five-disc series of surf instrumentals on the Sundazed label – “Lost Legends of Surf Guitar.”  The handy All Music Guide calls it “good, though not nearly as good as the very best ‘60s instrumental surf music anthologies, and can be confidently recommended to surf collectors.”  The “Lost Legends” series makes a distinction between surf and “hot rod” or “drag” tunes, a fine point I’m not sure I can grasp (when I hear tires peeling at the beginning of a song, I know it’s “hot rod”!).  Regardless, the New York-based label is an excellent source of American roots music – from garage/punk and psychedelic to country/rockabilly (including a 3-CD set of Jimmy Bryant – check out our earlier “Speed Demons of the West” post) and blues.  Sundazed also reissues original albums by surf-guitar standouts like The Challengers, The Surfaris, Ronny & the Daytonas and many more.  You can find them here.

Nephew Dan turned me on to this next one – a top-shelf collection of instrumentals recorded by Norman Petty (Buddy Holly’s first manager and producer) in the early-’60s at his studio in Clovis, New Mexico.   “I think of Norman Petty as a southern, white version of Berry Gordy and Motown Studios,” Auerbach said.  “Just like the setup at Motown, Petty was cutting edge and experimental with the recording equipment and techniques.  And he used his own stable of musicians – mostly members of the Fireballs (and their great guitarist George Tomsco) – for a lot of his stuff.”  Although his voice is one of the more recognizable in rock, Auerbach certainly appreciates the appeal of the guitar-based instrumental.  “First of all, it’s not easy to find a good singer – especially if you run a studio in Clovis.  But Petty could create a real band almost instantly with a guitarist who could pick out a few melodies.”

The great irony of the surf influence on “That’s Swift” is that most of Petty’s bands were from New Mexico and West Texas (Wes Dakus and the Rebels came all the way from Canada).  Auerbach sees a connection between Petty’s operation and the Rubber City:  “I bet Clovis is a lot like Akron… I’m sure Petty’s musicians heard a lot of influences, but didn’t see them up close.  They definitely heard the records and saw the pictures, but had to figure out how to do it on their own.”  Here’s one of Dan’s favorites from “That’s Swift”: Sour Biscuits/Wes Dakus and the Rebels

Next-Generation, Post-Neo-Surf/Drag/Hot Rod Guitar-Based Instrumentals…

Surf music didn’t get buried by the Beatles – who, as it turns out, were big fans of Brian Wilson.  But maybe it’s not the right label to describe the best examples of contemporary, surf-influenced songs.  Maybe “reverb-drenched instrumentals”?  Whatever you choose to call the genre, it’s pretty clear that a whole slew of latter-day rock, blues and country pickers owe a huge debt to the first generation of surf guitar slingers – including living legends like Nokie Edwards of The Ventures, who continues to play and record today.

Given the fact that we Americans have a habit of neglecting our most prized musical treasures, it makes perfect sense that one of the leading proponents of modern surf guitar is from Finland: Laika and the Cosmonauts.  Unfortunately, it appears the band’s 22-year career has come to a close.  A shame, really, because these guys seemed to have a knack for reinventing the surf instrumental – throwing in healthy doses of sci-fi, vintage soundtracks and other exotica to create instant classics that defy categories.  Their guitarist, Mikko Lankinen, is no slouch, but he clearly prefers melodic invention over Dale-like shredding.  Here’s a tune from an album released back in 1992, “Instruments of Terror” – still one of my favorite all-instrumental records. Note Crisis/Laika and the Cosmonauts

Even New York City’s post-punk, downtown music scene got in on the act, spawning “neo-surf” combo The Raybeats back in 1979.  The band’s long-gone album from 1983 – “It’s Only a Movie!” – is a curious mix of quirky, synthesized soundscapes and straight-ahead tributes to Booker T and Link Wray.  Guitar Player magazine called it “one of the top 10 instrumental albums of all time”… but it’s difficult to find, and very little has been written about the band or its members (except for former Raybeat and current Straitjacket Amis). It featured a rootsy yet innovative guitarist from Kansas, Jody Harris, who went on to record with The Golden Palominos and former Lou Reed guitarist Robert Quine (he described Harris as “tragically underrated”).  Here’s a tune from “Movie” that belongs in the surf hall of fame, wherever that is… Soul Beat-Intoxica/The Raybeats

They’re the Godfathers of Mexican Surf.  They’ve got a strong fan base in Spain and Russia.  Their annual Christmas Pageant is one of the holiday season’s hottest tickets (if you conveniently ignore some bloated, heavy-metal steamroller).  And their cover of My Heart Will Go On, the love theme from the movie “Titanic,” reportedly had Celine Dion contemplating early retirement.  When it comes to surf-based instrumentals expertly played by grown men in Mexican wrestling outfits, there’s only one band worth talking about: Los Straitjackets.  The fact is, these guys are damn good.  Just ask The Ventures or Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers – or, if you could bring them back from the great beyond, Link Wray and Ronnie Dawson.  This next one sounds like the theme from a long-forgotten TV show… a damn good one at that! Pacifica/Los Straitjackets

If there is such a thing as a hot-rod/hillbilly concept album, it was released in 1995 by Southern Culture on the Skids.  “Dirt Track Date” was a major-label release with a used condom on the cover.  And it sings the praises of the white trash lifestyle with heartfelt songs about Cadillacs (with eight slappin’ pistons under the hood), shiny pants, pointy tipped shoes, fireflies, Tony Joe White, Little Debbie snack crackers, eight-piece boxes of chicken and, of course, hookin’ up at the dirt track races.  But once you get beyond the broad jokes, you quickly realize these three can flat-out play.  Rick Miller’s guitar is almost as greasy as the chicken, and he’s clearly a sucker for an over-fried tube amp.  He also knows how to throw together a catchy instrumental, like this twangy homage to the galley slave… Galley Slave/SCOTS

I guarantee you’ve heard James Wilsey.  Remember that signature, moody lick from Chris Isaak’s huge hit, Wicked Game?  That’s Wilsey.  The former punk-rocker played in Isaak’s band until 1991, when he left to pursue a less-hectic lifestyle – one better suited to the sparse, understated sound of his guitar.  But he’s back with a new band, and he calls his all-instrumental originals “space-age hillbilly stuff, little-haunted-house-on-the-prairie music.”  He sounds like a perfect fusion of Duane Eddy and Link Wray, if you dragged them through the hot Arizona desert at High Noon.  If you’re looking for evidence that the surf-guitar instrumental has evolved over the years, check out this original from Wilsey’s latest, “El Dorado” (released in 2008)… El Dorado/James Wilsey

Quick hits… Not quite surf, but wouldn’t you rather have these guys at your beach party than Frankie and Annette?  (For you young ‘uns, think Carson Daly and whatever bimbo he brings along.)

Here’s a nasty slice of sinister from the late Link Wray – a favorite of directors Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez… Jack the Ripper/Link Wray

The Iceman Picketh – Sounds like the Master of the Telecaster, Albert Collins, had his ear cocked to a few surf records back in the early Sixties… Frosty/Albert Collins

If you’re more familiar with the Grateful Dead’s version (or even the original by Bobbie “Blue” Bland), you need to shake hands with the man from Aurora, Indiana: Lonnie Mack… Turn On Your Love Light/Lonnie Mack

Bonus video from the heyday of surf guitar… Dick Dale and the Del-Tones play their classic Misirlou in the 1963 movie “A Swingin’ Affair.”  I love the bass player (I’m guessing he handled the books for the band), and it’s pretty cool that they let dad play drums:

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