Gold/Lily

'I don't know what this gold is doing or where its going... who's gold is this, man?'

It may be that we are separated from certain realities by filters like media, popular opinion, and our own important lives. Poignancy is squished out by the filters, and the muck becomes mundane. Masekela puts a little muck into an everyday sounding tone in the following track. In its pacing and his only slightly strained mood, the question is asked from the perspective of the miner: who's gold is this? No comment on the political nature of the arrangement, just a little voice from within it. A position within it. Home was so groovy; exploitation is confusing.

Gold - Hugh Masekela, Masekela (1968)


These artists who grew out of Africa really really knew what they were doing. I can hear an absence of influence, in terms of so many influences that are familiar to my ear. I like this one because of its name.

Lily - Manu Dibango, Soul Makossa (1972)

Shouldn't Have Left You

Well, apologies, apologies. To all the loyal Some Quality readers. We were on a funky vacation in Vietnam and Cambodia. It was fun, and everything. And I know I should have warned you. To compensate, I'll follow up with some feel good songs. And tomorrow: some MJ tributation.

I really love this and I think you will too.

Jungle Fever - The Chakachas, 12" (1972)

How Bad for You?

I've realized that in the past few weeks I've been focusing a lot on work famed artists did that did not, in itself, lead to their fame. Here's another one.

First of all, James Brown is the right, and only, guy for this job:

Fight Against Drug Abuse (PSA) - James Brown, Funk Power 1970: Brand New Thang


Second of all, in 1979 he produced an album for one of his long time back up singers on Salsoul. I know that people often say that Salsoul is worth buying because they did interesting, often odd stuff, but I always get stuff that is way too heavy on the kind of disco that people wanted to die. Not this though, soul brother number one knows what he is doing in the production. This is the kind of music that was made for people to dance to. And not only to dance to, to really enjoy and get on down to:

Showdown - Martha High, Martha High (1979)

By that I mean, I can't wait to put it on and watch the Brown/High magic.

In the House

Short Dog's in the House - Too Short, Short Dog's in the House (1990)

Early funk based hip hop. This is so much fun. I am currently engaged in trying to get Rich JC 'in the house' via a Craigslist search. Soon I will live in Oakland and listen to this record there, it will sound so good.

This is possibly the widest lens I've ever seen in a autobiographical rap. He just travels all over the place not really doing anything. You know, though, that he was having a lot of fun and just doesn't tell you about it.

Call Me Weird

Don't Call Me Whitey, Nigger - Jane's Addiction ft. Ice T


Guess they are giving the finger to the Family Stone. Finally - we are fighting back?

Be Soul Good

Singing, and being a singer, is very often related to being a man or being a woman (whatever the individual case may be). This is pronounced even more so in the love-song filled halls of rhythm and blues. One has got to be a guy in order to sing to a girl. The soul singer's voice becomes infused with that sex-meaning, even when the lyrics stray from love (see everyone's mother melting over her favorite R&B artist's voice). Lady crooners too need to fill up their voices with passion. The difference between the voice of the male singer and the female singer is somewhat ineffable (certainly related to pitch), and not necessarily limited by the actual gender of the singer (uncertainty as to who it is that is hitting those high notes). Even on her first record in 1958, Nina Simone seems to trouble this distinction. But she does so more profoundly than simply shifting into a masculine register, rather her voice falls distinctly outside of sexual categories:

Love Me or Leave Me - Nina Simone, Little Girl Blue (1959)

The timbre of her voice is surprising. There is something metallic about it, and it is, of course, quite eerie. In her rendition of Gershwin's "Porgy", she somehow conveys a sensation beyond the intended emotion of the song. This sensation is apparent from even the first line: "I loves you Porgy..." It is a sorrow beyond concerns of this world. Departing from the tragedy of the dramatic situation (which is what covering a single song from a musical does), she sings the blues, the pure quality of the blues. The Gershwin song is just a vehicle for her tenor:

I Loves You Porgy - Nina Simone, Little Girl Blue (1959)

Conceiving her status as 'artist' proves quite enjoyable. She transcends many typical categories, including, importantly, The Feminine. This, again, is something particularly rare for soul artists. Her genius itself, and the fact that she composed her own music contributes to her transcendence of gender roles. To get a little theoretical: It is not that Simone accesses some status reserved for the male-singer, and it is also not that she becomes some version of male-soul. Furthermore, this is not to say that the woman in soul can do less than the man. Rather that, because she is not the one with the 'power to make soul' (a power reserved for record executives and successful male artists), the woman has the opportunity to become Soul. The man can only use Soul, while the woman can be it. What makes Simone particularly incredible is that when she becomes Soul, she does not become sensuous:



Watching this video I just keep thinking to myself how so cool she is. What I wrote above about her "becoming Soul", I don't care about as much as this feeling that she is doing her own thing in such a fucking serious way.

Crossover Comments (well-linked)

Comments from the Aging Well post on Ramsey Lewis, from two of my most music heavy buddies.

NateS:
Your Ramsey post reminded me of another cat who made the "crossover" from jazz to...funk, or something: Roy Ayers. With the benefit of hindsight it starts to look a little tragic how so many jazz men and women threw down their axes in the funk ring come mid70s when everyone suddenly decided that the scene was dead (or maybe just not lucrative) and made shitty "crossover" music that ended up appealing to just about nobody (SAY this TO this). How would music be different today if they had never strayed?

So who was successful at 'the leap' besides Ramsey and Roy? I mean successful artistically, sorry George "Breezin'" Benson (that one really hurts. Early GB is dope.) SO, Rich JC, countless anonymous readers---Eddie Harris? Miles, duh. Uh...John Klemmer? Dude is kind of a beast, I swear.

Roy Ayers' vibes.

Uncle Jam:
Eddie Harris was definitely one of the first to come to mind, but man, there are SO many "jazz" artists that recorded tons of x-over material, and, IMO, in that mix there are TONS of great R&B tracks by those we tend to primarily consider "jazz" artists.

Hell, almost every R&B cat in NOLA in the 60s & 70s came up playing "jazz". Seriously-almost all of them. And that goes for much of the rest of the country too. Booker T & The MGs and the rest of the Stax instrumentalists played in jazz bands at night after they left the studio.

Nowadays we view jazz, soul, funk, blues, and rock as separate entities with distinct, albeit vague, boundaries, but most interviews I've read/heard suggest that these cats viewed music as more of seamless continuum. It was all just "the blues".

Some great x-over by "jazz" artists:
Eddie Harris - How Can I Find Some Way to Tell You

Lonnie Smith - All In My Mind (on that Stevie Wonder tip)

Donald Byrd - Love's So Far Away

Bernard Wright - Just Chillin Out (Miles Davis' Solar appears on the same album):

Idris Muhammad - Disco Man (drummer on countless Prestige/Blue Note jazz sessions in the 60s)

Oscar Brown, Jr. - Feel The Fire (put lyrics to The Work Song et al)

Joe Thomas - Funky Fever

& oh so appropriately - Eddie Harris' I Need Some Money

disclaimer: this is only jazz artists who were well-known when they went x-over; go deeper and there are tons more. also doesn't include jazz artists covering pop songs, or vice versa.