Rubber City Review

As we approach the end of 2011, some of you might be looking at various ways to shake things up in the coming year. Maybe take a few dance classes, learn how to cook with a wood-burning stove, turn that toolshed into a bitchin’ mancave, recycle that oxy you found in grandpa’s bathroom…

I tend to be a little more realistic. It’s hard enough dealing with the day-to-day challenges of making ends meet with a dwindling paycheck. Why complicate matters by trying to reinvent yourself? The craziest thing I’ve done in recent years is start this blog (which I view as the cornerstone of RCR’s burgeoning virtual empire… and my wife sees as “the thing that keeps you from fixing this goddam sink”). That slight reinvention should do me for the entire decade – or at least until End of Days (see #10).

This year, I prefer to simply express my gratitude for all the things that somehow went well in 2011. Let’s face it, plenty of things sure as shit went south. We lost Hubert Sumlin, Howard Tate, Dobie Gray, Amy Winehouse, Cesaria Evora, Manuel Galban, Doyle Bramhall, Gil Scott-Heron, Bert Jansch, Willie “Big Eyes” Smith, Clarence Clemons, Cornell Dupree, Pinetop Perkins, Melvin Sparks, Big Jack Johnson, Eddie Kirkland… and, in a way, Etta James, who’s in the final stages of leukemia and also suffers from dementia. Also, Fear Factor came back on the air – an event that surely was documented in Revelations. And Rick Perry’s still in the hunt. But let’s set aside those tragedies for now and focus instead on some positives from a year that needed every one of them.

1. 10 Years of Daptone Records. It’s reassuring to know that soul music – made the way god and James Brown intended – is alive and well in Brooklyn. But that’s just part of the story at Daptone. Do yourself a favor and pick up one of the label’s outstanding samplers. You’ll find everything from Afro-beat (Antibalas) to a capella gospel (“Como Now: The Voices of Panola Co., Mississippi”). Simply put, Daptone is an American treasure. Here’s to many more decades of fine, funky soul… and a whole lot more. Let’s celebrate the first 10 years with the queen of Daptone soul, Sharon Jones: Be Easy/Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings
2. More Live Music on TV. Maybe I’m deluded, but it seems like I’m coming across more first-rate music programming on cable (not on the main broadcast networks, unless you count your favorite band’s performance on SNL, Letterman or Jimmy Fallon – and even then, you have to wade through a lot of crap to get there). In the course of a few days, I watched two great shows on Palladia – one featuring Radiohead (The King of Limbs: Live from the Basement) and a rebroadcast of My Morning Jacket on VH1 Storytellers. And although it only includes a few live performances, Talihina Sky: The Story of Kings of Leon was easily one of the most powerful and captivating rock docs I’ve ever seen (video below). Keep ‘em coming, cable gods!
3. The Return of Gillian Welch. It took Welch eight years to deliver a follow-up to her previous album, “Soul Journey.” But “The Harrow & The Harvest” was well worth the wait. Tunes like Scarlet Town and The Way It Goes capture Welch and her longtime musical partner David Rawlings at the top of their game – combining heavenly harmonies with Rawlings’ predictably stunning fretwork. I had the great pleasure of seeing the duo on tour in support of the new album… noticed a lot of local pickers watching Rawlings’ every move. But my favorite moment found him on banjo and harmonica as Welch hamboned and clogged her way through Six White Horses (video below). It seemed like a pure expression of joy, without pretense or artifice. In other words, many galaxies away from modern country.
4. The Black Keys Bust Loose. They started the year on a roll, and now they’ve conquered the world with their new album “El Camino.” As Brian van der Brug of the LA Times put it, “After something like 30-odd years of listeners’ declaring that rock had run out of steam, there’s something wonderfully weird about a drums-and-guitar duo riding swaggering blues-rock to the top, and it sounds even better.” Basically, it’s what happens when two unassuming and non-ironic dudes from Akron reinvent blues, soul, garage rock and a few other vital strains of American music, tour relentlessly, and spend countless hours honing their craft. I know, pouring Crystal over strippers sounds a lot more glamorous, but for these guys, it would just get in the way of the work. Money Maker/The Black Keys
5. Music Streaming Services Become More Competitive. And by competitive, I mean “free.” Actually, I’m not sure if this is a positive or a negative. Earlier this year, RCR teamed up with the MOG Music Network, which gave me access to their massive digital library. It’s pretty cool, but in some ways overwhelming. If you have 16 million+ songs at your fingertips, where exactly do you start? Playlists and Pandora-like streaming helps, but I get a little cranky when a song by Steve Earle is followed by American Pie or some other dreck. Fact is, they should just pay me to program their service (then they’d really be out of business!).
6. The Miami Heat Tanks. I know, I shouldn’t take pleasure in another team’s demise. But they sort of asked for it, didn’t they? I don’t even consider myself a LeBron hater. After all, he keeps coming back to our fair city to dole out money to various charities and play some hoops with his buddies. But it would’ve really pissed me off if the billion-dollar trio had realized their goal in Year One. The King will eventually get his Ring, but let him wait a few more years… builds character.
7. I Finally Visit Europe. You didn’t think I’d leave myself out of this, did you? I should be embarrassed to admit that at fifty-(cough) years, I’d never made it to Europe. But I fixed that in June when I flew to Berlin with my wife (hobbled by a knee injury) and daughter. We spent a few days in Chemnitz, a former car manufacturing center that was practically destroyed by bombs in WWII and then partially rebuilt under Communist rule (the bartender at the hotel yearned for the good old days when the Russians would show up with wads of cash). Then we survived a wild night in Berlin with our friends at iCrates before heading over to Paris, where we joined throngs of other tourists staring at the Notre Dame Cathedral, the gardens of Versailles, the Eiffel Tower, the Arch de Triumph… Glad we went, not sure we’ll be back any time soon. Aaah, the ennui…
8. I Got Hooked on Justified. For this, I blame my sister Mary. It seems to me that few shows capture the nuances of life below the Mason-Dixon Line better than Justified. There’s nothing even remotely hip about the show – other than maybe the theme song by Gangstagrass with T.O.N.E.-Z: Long Hard Times to Come Just solid storylines with some fine acting (including a well-deserved Emmy for Margo Martindale, who scared the shit out of me as Mags Bennett, the matriarch of a very twisted crime family from Harlan County). And it’s all served up with a healthy dose of backwoods funk and filth. Still time to jump on board this crazy train… Season 3 starts on January 17 (FX).
9. Commodity Prices Rise as Dollar Weakens. Actually, I have no idea what this is all about… Just thought it was time for RCR to tackle one of the more important financial issues facing the nation. Done.
10. Last Full Year Before End Times. The 5,125-year Great Cycle of the Ancient Mayan Calendar ends on winter solstice, December 21, 2012 (at 11:11 a.m., to be precise). What does this mean? Is The Rapture near, or am I confusing the Mayans with a religious cult in Idaho? I think the best we can hope for is that we reconnect with the wisdom of nature, and Bravo cancels the next season of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank my family for sticking with me as I spend far too much time on dubious missives like this one. After all, what’s more important than the support of your loved ones? Even Charles Manson hears from his family this time of year… in the “extended” sense of the word, of course.

Kings of Leon perform Talihina Sky – after a solid minute of bitching…

Gillian Welch and David Rawlings at the 2011 Newport Folk Festival…

Since we got some of you to play along to “My First Album,” I decided to try something else along the same lines: What’s your most memorable concert experience?

The venue can be anything from a small club to an arena. And the experience can have little to do with the music being performed, as I’ll demonstrate shortly.

My concert-going years got off to a very auspicious start in the summer of 1969 when my older sister Mary took my sister Keena and me to see Janis Joplin at Blossom Music Center, an outdoor amphitheater nestled in the rolling hills near the Cuyahoga River valley. My 13-year-old synapses were fried by Joplin’s powerful voice and the Stax-influenced soul of her Kozmic Blues Band (only days after they performed at Woodstock). If we didn’t have front-row seats, we were damn close – and I distinctly remember Joplin taking several generous pulls on a bottle of Southern Comfort during the show. Opening act: Rod Stewart and the Faces. Cost of three tickets: $7.50.

A few posts back, I wrote about my good/bad fortune of seeing the Stones during their legendary ’72 (“Exile on Main Street”) tour. A month later – August 21, 1972, to be precise – I almost became an Altamont-like casualty when the Jefferson Airplane brought their traveling circus to the same venue, the Akron Rubber Bowl.

My favorite part of the show was the opening act – Hot Tuna, with Airplane guitarist Jorma Kaukonen and bassist Jack Casady along with legendary blues fiddler Papa John Creach. Could’ve listened to that for about two hours: Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning Then the Airplane hit the stage and all hell broke loose. Everything was fine until about halfway into their set, when I suddenly felt like someone was choking me and gouging my eyes out at the same time. Apparently, the police had teargassed some kids at the top of the bowl, and the gas then settled on the field below, where a few thousand of us were blissfully unaware of the small riot going on nearby. Next thing I knew, someone on stage was urging us to “attack the pigs,” and then the show was over (thankfully, because I was ready to rip off my own head at that point).

The Akron Beacon Journal broke the news to all of our parents the next day with the headline at right. And it’s a classic piece of modern journalism. I’ll share with you three of my favorite items from this story:

• First, when singer Grace Slick was confronted by Patrolman R.E. Gott in a basement office, she “reached out to grab his whistle chain on her way out of the office. Gott said she made a clawing motion for his face after he tried to prevent her from pulling his chain.” Slick and fellow Airplane member Paul Kantner were arrested for assaulting a policeman, since Akron had yet to pass a chain-pulling ordinance.
• Second, the reporter quoted the band’s New York press agent by noting that “Miss Slick is not formally married to Kantner, but that ‘he is her old man.’”
• And third, a local City Councilman who opposed rock concerts at the Rubber Bowl from the beginning said “I’m not against all kinds of shows. For instance, the Osman Brothers (sic) and some other shows were not at all bad.”

Good stuff. Apparently, Slick and Kantner had to return to Akron to negotiate a deal with local prosecutors. I don’t think they’ve been back since.

Did you ever attend a sold-out show with an adoring crowd and feel like everyone else was sipping on some special Kool-Aid that they forgot to share with you?

I remember going to Bogart’s in Cincinnati to see the pride of Cleveland, the Michael Stanley Band. My overall impression of the show was that a team of scientists had successfully come up with a perfectly bland and generic strain of rock. I also noticed that every time someone jammed a guitar into his crotch, the crowd would go wild (tried that later with my own band, but it didn’t seem to work as well).

I had a similar reaction when someone dragged me to see the post-punk band the Violent Femmes at the Newport in Columbus. Again, packed house, adoring fans. They kicked things off with some lame acoustic-sounding number and I thought, give it a chance – they’ll probably work their way into a complete frenzy later on. Well, that never happened (Violent Femmes… another inappropriately named band, like 10,000 Maniacs). And by the time the show was over, I was convinced I could walk out of the club, head in either direction and find a better band playing on the street.

And, of course, there’s Jimmy Buffett. Has anyone else made an entire career out of phoning it in? Then again, if you continually play in front of thousands of fans who know every lyric to every song you’ve ever written, why would you bother breaking a sweat? I mainly remember being pissed off by the long lines at the margarita vendors, because I was convinced that being shitfaced was the only way to truly appreciate this experience… or at least tolerate it.

Of course, we don’t drag ourselves away from our home theater systems to be routinely disappointed by live music. And I’ve seen plenty of powerful, life-affirming shows over the years. I’ve already touched on some of those performances in this blog – Lowell George with a fine, funky band at Bogart’s, only two weeks before his untimely demise… Danny Gatton at U.S. Blues in NYC, schooling every guitar player in the crowd… Gatemouth Brown at Stache’s in Columbus, serving as both the main act and bouncer… Bo Diddley at the Cincinnati Gardens, with yours truly backing him up on harp…

I also feel blessed to have seen Muddy Waters at the Cleveland Agora (must’ve been around ’76, with Pinetop Perkins on piano, Jerry Portnoy on harp and Bob Margolin on guitar). Even though Muddy was past his prime, I felt like I’d found my way to the blues mountaintop… the amazing sound of that voice still haunts me today. And I’ll always treasure the night that bro-in-law Chuck Auerbach and me watched Delbert McClinton and his red-hot band turn New York City’s Lone Star Café into a Texas roadhouse. We were practically giddy (as opposed to “geddy,” the feeling one gets at a Rush concert) driving through the empty streets of Manhattan at 3 in the morning – high on honky tonk soul and R&B.

More recently, I’ve watched Chuck’s son Dan and his bandmate Pat Carney destroy countless stages across the country as The Black Keys. One of my favorite Keys shows was in Manhattan at Terminal 5, with opening act Heartless Bastards. Granted, the Bastards’ Erika Wennerstrom ain’t no Janis, but she won me over with her soulful voice and tough little band as they tore through great originals like this one: The Mountain/Heartless Bastards

Erika Wennerstrom and Heartless Bastards

And what about Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings, bringing back the spirit of James Brown and his Famous Flames? I’m Not Gonna Cry/Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings

Then there’s West Coast Latino-rockers Ozomatli, who turned the floor of Cleveland’s House of Blues into the world’s hippest drum circle (this next cut is from their album “Embrace the Chaos”)… Suenos en Realidad/Ozomatli

I’m sure many of you can add about 20 more to this list – and I hope you will. That’s why we still drag our asses out of the house, because we never know when we’ll get that giddy (or geddy) feeling again.

Some random concert memories from family members…

Brother Jack recalls the “anything goes” ethos of the Sixties at the folk music capital of the Midwest, Ann Arbor, where he saw Jim Kweskin (without his Jug Band) going through a strange phase: ”The philosophy seemed to be that performing is bad. It’s fake and separates the audience from the performer. So he just went up onstage and sat. He chatted with the audience for a little bit but mostly just sat there. Occasionally, if he felt like it, he would pick up the guitar and play a song. In the end it was a piece of performance art. It got people talking. Some folks would say it was dreadful, boring. Others would say it was just a matter of expectations. ‘We expect too much of performers… Just go in not expecting anything and you will be satisfied.’”

Keena had an unsettling experience at a Lou Reed show at Akron’s beautiful Civic Theater. “I turned around and some guy behind me was masturbating. Should’ve been my first clue that Lou Reed was gay. I guess I was too young to pick up on the subtle nuances of Walk On The Wild Side.”

Dan tells a great story about bandmate Pat Carney (pre-Black Keys) trying to promote his fledgling music career at a performance by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Carney took a cassette tape of some of his original music to the show, hoping to hand it to Spencer. He worked his way to the front of the crowd during the band’s set and placed the tape on the stage. Without missing a beat, Spencer leapt in front of Carney and used the heel of his boot to smash the tape into little pieces. Thankfully, Pat’s dreams of rock stardom didn’t die along with it.

The floor is open… Let’s hear about some of your favorite concert experiences.

Janis Joplin at Woodstock… only days before she brought her Kozmic Blues Band to Blossom:

We now have nearly 40 posts completed and properly filed with the internet authorities. Not what you’d call a highly prolific output. But as my sister pointed out, what I lack in frequency I make up for in long-windedness. Someone else told me I should write shorter posts and publish more often. I sent him a 10-paragraph email – with readership stats broken out in several tables – explaining why I disagree. For some reason, I never heard back from him.

Anyway, it seemed like a good opportunity for the RCR team to rummage through the old mail bag and find out what’s on our readers’ minds. Not that we plan on using that information to do anything different. I just couldn’t come up with a coherent theme this week.

I was a little disappointed in the response to “Truck Driver’s Boogie” – until I heard from Rob, who directed me toward one Scott H. (Hiram) Biram. I guess I’d describe his stuff as classic cowpunk and gutbucket blues, and I especially enjoyed this little item from Biram’s myspace page:

“Scott H. Biram won’t die. On May 11th, 2003, one month after being hit head-on by an 18-wheeler at 75 MPH, he took the stage at The Continental Club in Austin, TX in a wheel chair – I.V. still dangling from his arm. With 2 broken legs, a broken foot, a broken arm and 1 foot less of his lower intestine, Biram unleashed his trademark musical wrath…” Then it offers this promotional nugget: “When Scott H. Biram took the stage at his 2004 SXSW festival showcase right after Kris Kristofferson he was quoted as growling ‘They said that was a hard act to follow….I’m a hard act to follow motherfuckers!!’ The stunned crowd looked on.”

So obviously we’re dealing with a badass of epic proportions. Here’s musical evidence of Biram’s ornery nature (from his latest, “Something’s Wrong/Lost Forever”): Hard Time/Scott H. Biram

Lots of good comments to “There Stands the Glass,” my homage to the American drinking song. Musician and RCR contributor Kevin Swan captured the joys of the Big Three Trio’s Cigareetes, Whuskey and Wild Women: “Just add a Mason jar of sour mash, a big-boned gal in a flower dress, and sing loud.” And Bruce from Australia recommends that we down a pint of Woody Guthrie’s Rye Whiskey.

But Brother Jack convinced me I’d overlooked a true classic, One For My Baby (And One More For The Road), from the songwriting team of Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer. The tune was first performed by Fred Astaire in 1943 in the musical “The Sky’s The Limit” – then made popular four years later by a far more appropriate interpreter, Frank Sinatra. Over the years, it’s been covered by artists ranging from Lou Rawls and Lena Horne to Willie Nelson and Iggy Pop, and Bette Midler famously serenaded Johnny Carson with it on his last night as host of “The Tonight Show.” But I don’t think anyone plumbed the depths of this tune as effectively as Billie Holiday, who certainly drew from a deep well of experience… One For My Baby (And One More For The Road)/Billie Holiday

Don’t be surprised to see a future post titled “There Stands Another Glass.”

Dickey Betts, 1972

My love letter to Milledgeville, GA (“Georgia On My Mind”) received the most comments to date. Nephew Dan of The Black Keys has warm memories of our family’s log cabin in the piney woods – “i remember playing in that log cabin as a kid… i’ve driven through georgia what seems like a million times on tour and thought about stopping by but never have.” I mainly recall scaring the kids when I threw a chair across the room after losing my third-straight pot in poker. Fellow blogger The Hound shared one of Southern Rock’s great ironies: “I love that Dickey Betts was booted from the Allmans for taking too many drugs. Think about that. That must have been an incredible amount of dope to get chucked out of that band.” Old friend J.T. savored the time he spent at the cabin, when he almost died in Longino’s Jeep and then got poison oak everywhere, “even my schween.” And college buddy Art Rock (I prefer the more quotidian alias, admin) remembered waking up to Valerie Carter singing Ooh Child and bacon sizzling on the stove. I’ll throw in another cabin favorite, an acoustic duet with Betts and Duane Allman that Leo Kottke called “the most perfect guitar song ever written”: Little Martha/Duane Allman and Dickey Betts

A few of you played along to “Great Moments in Modern Music.” Christian from Albuquerque loves the trumpet work in the “Chinatown” soundtrack as well as the last section of John Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme” (Psalm). Kevin came back with a vote for Louis Armstrong’s “Big Butter and Egg Man” – a saucy duet with May Alix. Keena and her ganja-inspired friends couldn’t get enough of an odd “bip” that somehow found its way into Warren Zevon’s vocal fills in Werewolves of London. But we’ll give the RCR Ribbon of Achievement to Joscha from Germany, who threw out two big winners – the MC5’s I Want You Right Now (Joscha’s favorite moment is at 2:13, “where they take it down, creating tension, ready to explode back in the full blast main riff”) and Aretha Franklin’s It Ain’t Fair, which brings back the tasty guitar of Duane Allman along with sax great King Curtis… It Ain’t Fair/Aretha Franklin with Duane Allman and King Curtis

I’ll leave you with a couple of unqualified recommendations from the RCR Nation…

First, if you share my obvious enthusiasm for Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings (“Rare Soul + Funk, Pt. 1”), you’ll want to check out her latest platter – yes, it’s available on vinyl – “I Learned the Hard Way.” Here’s a little taste… Better Things/Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings

Second, The Black Keys’ new release, “Brothers,” drops on Tuesday, May 18. Obviously, I can’t be objective about these guys, but I think this is the one they’ve wanted to make ever since they first hung a mic over a water pipe in Pat’s basement. It’s definitely their best-sounding disc… fat, heavy grooves with lots of trunk-rattling bass – something you probably wouldn’t expect if you’re partial to “The Big Come Up” and “Thickfreakness.” Most of “Brothers” was recorded at the legendary Muscle Shoals Sound Studio – former home of the crack session team that laid down Aretha’s It Ain’t Fair. And although the Keys are far from bound by tradition, you can still hear the ghosts of Eddie Hinton and other masters of deep southern soul who never got their due.

Make no mistake, Dan and Pat are Rubber City guys at heart, as you can tell by this next tune. It was recorded during the “Brothers” sessions but won’t appear on the CD release (it’s now available as a free download on the band’s website if you register). Ohio/The Black Keys

Catch the Keys on tour this summer… get the full list of dates here. And test-drive “Brothers” right now at NPR.

These just in from Dan… A hotel-room video of Dickey Betts playing with “Dangerous” Dan Toler and a Greg Allman solo performance – both from a documentary called “Brothers of the Road” (1982) – and Duane Allman from 1970. “Dickey Betts is really underrated,” Dan says. “I love those double-stop country things he always adds. His signature, I guess. And the footage of Duane is something I’ve never seen. Modern jam bands just don’t get it.” Amen, brother.

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: