Jerry Wexler: 1917-2008

I am sad to hear of Jerry Wexler's death today at the age of 91. I will be writing my own thoughts about him either today or tomorrow, but for now, I recommend reading a lovely tribute to Wexler that's in today's Rolling Stone online.

The Soul "Revival" Hits U.S.A. Today

Today's U.S.A. Today features a lengthy piece on the "resurgence" of soul. It namechecks many of the usual subjects - Amy Winehouse and Duffy, and then goes into a bit further depth about Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings, Eli Reed and James Hunter. For U.S.A. Today, it's not bad.

I will say this: The potential for a true resurgence for soul has barely been tapped. Simply put, the right artist hasn't emerged yet with the right songs and the right sound. Amy Winehouse has come the closest. But mark my words, this could get much bigger. And better.

Issac Hayes: The Coolest

Isaac Hayes had the coolest voice I’ve ever heard - deep, sexy, velvety, totally commanding and thoroughly vulnerable. It was imposing as well; he may have sung about the bad motherfucker that was John Shaft, but I always thought of him as the truly bad mofo. After all, he was real and Shaft was fiction.

But beyond the wonder of his voice (and his sublime 1969 album Hot Buttered Soul), I’m most grateful to Isaac Hayes for the incredible soul classics he wrote with his songwriting partner, David Porter. “Hold On, I’m Coming,” “Soul Man,” “I Thank You,” “When Something Is Wrong With My Baby,” (one of the most beautiful love songs ever), “B-A-B-Y” and more. These weren’t simply great soul songs – they were incredible songs, period, worthy of the songwriting teams that Hayes lionized, like Holland-Dozier-Holland and Bacharach-David.

Isaac was obviously a key figure in the history of soul. After Otis Redding’s death in late 1967, he took the Stax sound into a lusher, more orchestral direction, adding hints of jazz and a new sophistication. But it was still soul – just put on “Walk On By” (from Hot Buttered Soul) and you can hear his brilliance as a producer and arranger, taking the Dionne Warwick hit (written by Bacharach/David) and turning it into something darker and richer.

I only saw him once, this past June in Prospect Park. He was obviously tired, having been slowed down by a recent stroke. But the voice was still there, in command, reminding me of a white haired prophet from the Old Testament. The world seems a little less cool without him. Farewell Isaac – you’ve earned your rest.

Buy Isaac Hayes at the Amazon MP3 Store

I'm Back

Blogger blocked my blog for the past three weeks - they had suspicions it was a spam blog. Getting them to unblock was a task of Kafka-esque proportions, but no matter, I'm back. Looking forward to posting again...

An Uber Long Island Moment

So yesterday, I'm in a car, driving home from the beach. We're on the Southern State Parkway in Long Island and then the traffic starts getting nasty, so we get off the highway and start driving towards the city on Jericho Turnpike. I'm looking at the surroundings - checking out the Long Islandness of it all, thinking of how closely is resembles Routes 4 and 17 in Northern New Jersey - when all of a sudden, a red Mazda pulls up next to us. Inside the car is a woman in her 50's, blonde and a little heavy, but I tell that at one time she was probably beautiful, and if she wasn't beautiful, she was definitely sexy. She's blaring Billy Joel's "Just The Way You Are," and singing along with every note so loudly that I can only hear her voice, and not Billy's. Like me, the occupants of my car just sort of gape at the magnificence of the moment. The light changes, and the Mazda zooms off, and all I can say in the moment is, "Awesome."

The Ecstasy of Aretha's Live at the Fillmore West

In February of 1971, Aretha Franklin played Bill Graham’s fabled Fillmore West auditorium in San Francisco. Touring behind the great Spirit In The Dark, Aretha was nervous to be playing in front of, as she called them, the “flower children”; the fans of the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and Country Joe and the Fish. She needn’t have worried. Aretha’s talent was at an higher level than the San Francisco bands she thought she was competing with. Atlantic recorded the shows, and from them came the epochal Live at the Fillmore West, released in the spring of 1971.

Live at the Fillmore West is on very few lists of “Greatest Live Albums Of All Time.” It’s understandable to an extent; the first side of the album is significantly flawed, with questionable song selections (“Eleanor Rigby,” Bread’s “Make It With You,” Stephen Stills’ “Love The One You’re With”) that are obvious attempts to play to the sentiments and musical sensibilities of the crowd. Despite being the Queen, Aretha’s insecurities are legendary – and the first half of the album features them all. The songs all work to a degree – but that’s because Aretha has the gift of being able to make almost any song sound good.

“Don’t Play That Song” begins side two, and it’s clear as the Bernard Purdie’s drums crash in, that this is a different experience altogether than what we’ve heard so far. The crowd roars upon hearing the first familiar notes from Aretha’s Fender Rhodes. She is no longer trying to meet the audience on their turf. Instead, she envelops the audience in the transcendent power of her music. The tempo is hard and fast; Purdie pushes the band, the horns swing and Jerry Jemott’s walking bass lines are a thing of beauty. The real stuff has arrived.

“Does anybody here feel like hearing the blues,” Aretha asks before going into a titanic version of “Dr. Feelgood.” The crowd roars in affirmation – this is what they’ve been waiting for. “SING IT,” a woman screams, as Aretha begins the song, toying with the phrasing masterfully as she picks out lines at the keyboard. Aretha milks every syllable – drawing out the affirmation, the sensuality and her own overwhelming power. “RIGHT ON GIRL! YOU GOT IT,” a voice shouts – but Aretha doesn’t need their encouragement. She’s in a state of ecstasy – totally out of herself now – and you can hear her and the audience merge into a single being. If you wanted a musical definition of soul, this would be it.

What’s even more ridiculous is that “Dr. Feelgood” isn’t the high point of the album. That would be the monstrous version of “Spirit In The Dark” that she performs with Ray Charles. “I discovered Ray Charles,” Aretha exults as she leads Ray out. It’s clear that Ray isn’t completely familiar with the song – but as he warms up, it doesn’t matter. He finds his place in the song, making up his own lyrics and starting to brag a little. Aretha has him take a solo and as the band begins to percolate behind him – it goes to another level.

“Can you feel the spirit,” Ray asks the crowd repeatedly, and they roar. He toys with the line, bringing the intensity up and down and hearing him, it’s awe-inspiring. The horns play a beautiful riff, the congas groove and the entire band swings. “I gotta find me a woman tonight, because I feel the Spirit,” Ray sings with a laugh, and in that moment, he brings it all back home, combining the pleasures of the flesh with the ecstasies of the spirit, knowing that they are entwined – a knowledge that is the gift of soul music to the world.

“I just want to say before we leave that you have been much more than I could have ever expected,” Aretha says, thanking the audience as begins the finale, a beautiful version of Diana Ross’ “Reach Out And Touch (Somebody’s Hand).” She just sings the chorus over and over again, exclaiming her love for the crowd, the horns blaring and Purdie laying down incredible drum fills. The song is a somewhat treacly plea for brotherly harmony, but in the moment, Aretha makes it profound and even possible.

Jerry Wexler, the Atlantic executive who produced both Ray and Aretha, said that when he was at the Fillmore shows and saw Aretha and Ray playing together, he cried like a baby. Live at the Fillmore West is a miraculous document of that moment and of one of the greatest artists of all time (in any medium) at one of her peaks. If you are into knowing what true greatness is, in any medium, buy this album.

Buy the expanded version of Live at the Fillmore West at the Amazon mp3 store

George Carlin

I really loved George Carlin - and I grew to appreciate his brilliance more as I got older. I always marveled at his ability to sniff out hypocrisy and tell it like he saw it. He reminded me of a true hipster of the old school variety, and watching him take off on one of his riffs always felt to me like a great improvisational instrumentalist. So I'm saddened to hear about his death tonight. Here's one of my favorite clips of his:



He will be sorely missed.

The Emergence Of Jackie Greene

Since I first heard Jackie Greene’s Sweet Somewhere Bound roughly four years ago, I’ve been waiting for him to release an undeniable album. He’s one of those rare guys who has got all the gifts – great melodic sense, a keen eye, emotional depth, wisdom, charisma to spare and a simmering passion. The man has got soul.

After releasing a fine, if not quite thrilling debut on Blue Note in 2006 (after three albums on independent labels), Greene retreated from the “next big thing” conversation he was a subject of. Instead, he toured, continued writing and somewhat surprisingly, became a featured part of Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh’s ensemble, Phil Lesh and Friends. Despite not being a Dead fan, Greene has taken to performing for the Dead’s still considerable fan base. Perhaps playing some of those classic Garcia-Hunter compositions every night rubbed of on Greene, because his new album, Giving Up The Ghost, is the sound of an artist coming into his own and is easily one of the best albums released so far this year.

Giving Up The Ghost is modern in feel, but even though it breaks no stylistic ground, it simply sounds great and is full of excellent songs. Steve Berlin’s production keeps things simple and focused on the important stuff – the songs and the vocals. From the deceptively simple “Like A Ball And Chain” to the absolutely fantastic “Animal,” and the Stax-Volt of “Don’t Let The Devil Take Your Mind,” the songs reward upon repeated listening; Greene conjures great artists from the past – you can hear hints of the Band, Ray Charles, Elvis Costello, Paul Westerberg, Santana and half a dozen great soul singers - without ever just being an echo of them.

In a just world, Greene would already be a major star. But Greene isn’t the sort of artist who fits in easily anywhere. There’s no community for artists like him; no Warped Tour, no Pitchfork Festival, no Coachella. But the ironic part is that for anyone with ears, Jackie Greene should hit home like few artists around today. Buy this album.

Buy Giving Up The Ghost at the Amazon Mp3 store

I'm Available And Looking For Gigs

If there are two things I’ve always had a difficult time with, it’s self-promotion and asking for help. In the context of asking other people for assistance, I’ve always tried to do things on my own, without anyone’s help – which of course, is totally absurd. Given that I am now working for myself and am committed to creating a successful business, I’m giving that up.

(Ironically, this being a soul music blog – I can’t think of one great soul artist who was shy about his abilities or was afraid to ask for something.)

So I’m here to announce that I am available and looking for consulting opportunities in the following areas:

Bio Writing: I have written over 100 bios in the past 18 months for both independent and major label acts. Check this page out for more info: http://tinyurl.com/4orhzz

A&R & Production: I can promise you that in working with me, you will reach a new level of authenticity in your musical expression, which will translate into more powerful music, far greater confidence and more fans. Basically, I’ll cut through the bullshit and pull your best out of you. You can draw upon my experience of over a decade at major labels in tandem with the last two years of learning the new music media space to create a winning combination of old school music values with new school marketing and technology.

Business Consulting: If you’re involved in a music venture, I can make a difference for you. I can navigate the ins and outs of building a team, planning an event creating a digital marketing and PR plan and many other things.

Reissues: If you’re a label involved in reissues, my encyclopedic knowledge of rock and soul will ensure you’re creating the best package from both an A&R and marketing context, finding the best balance between telling the story of a band and giving the people what they want.

DJ’ing: I am a great DJ – I can bring a perfect mix of soul, jazz, blues and rock to your club, party, or wedding. (And if this money’s good, I’ll even do Bar Mitzvahs!) I have over 15,000 CDs to choose from.

I am currently working with the following companies:

Ariel Publicity & Cyber PR – Bio writer and Sales. I am their bio writer and have written bios for every genre of music. I have also brought Cyber PR (a digital music PR firm) to the major labels and they have been hired to work on several campaigns as a result of my work.

Tipping Point Partners – I am currently arranging a series of showcases where I am introducing up-and-coming artists to music supervisors at advertising agencies.

If you would like to talk about a project I can be reached at
Blazar70 AT GMAIL [dot] COM

Isaac Hayes Ushers In The Summer

*These pictures were taken by me from about 450 away from the stage with very little light. To whatever extent they came out well, I thank my Canon S3IS with the 12x optical zoom and the 48x digital zoom.

Last night’s Isaac Hayes show at Celebrate Brooklyn in Prospect Park will not go down as one of the great soul shows of all time. But that’s so besides the point that it just about has no point at all. No other kind of music would bring in a crowd like last night’s: White and black, old and young…all grooving and celebrating the start of the summer.

But when Hayes tore into a great version of “Walk On By,” (from Hot Buttered Soul) the show went to another level – the crowd responded from the opening riff, delighting in the greatness of the song and their lasting love of it – and Hayes responded. His voice, wavering during various points in the set, gathered strength and passion, and for a moment, the crowd was swept away.

Hayes introduced the next song as, “a song I wrote a long time ago,” and went into a somewhat tepid version of “Soul Man.” But the quality of the version didn’t really matter. “THAT’S THE GUY THAT WROTE ‘SOUL MAN,’ AND HOLD ON, I’M COMIN’” I exclaimed to myself. I uttered out loud, to no one in particular, “This is like hearing God recite the Ten Commandments.”

And of course, from the opening hi-hat notes of “Shaft,” the crowd erupted. Building anticipation, with the wah-wah guitar, synth-string and synth-horns increasing the tension – it was a little slice of heaven. And the crowd, on their feet, with enormous grins, sang those faintly ridiculous and utterly irresistible lyrics about the “private dick that’s a sex machine to all the chicks.” It was a delicious moment and a wonderful way to usher in the summer. The night was a great reminder that soul may go in and out of fashion – but it’s eternally in style.

Count Basie Retrospective On NPR

A wonderful piece on Count Basie on NPR's "Jazz Profiles." If you're at all curious about jazz, swing, the history of rhythm or the Basie band, you owe it to yourself to check this out.

Of New Commerce And The Grateful Dead Myth

**This piece was written on Thursday. Fortuitous timing - check out Paul Krugman's column in today's NY Times.

I’m attending the Advertising Age 2.0 conference this week, as part of a new music and advertising venture I’m involved in. It’s my first time attending a non-music conference and it’s interesting to hear new terms, new languages and hear the different discussions going on. And yet…it’s all the same.

The first panel I attended was about how the Internet is transforming the advertising world and how advertising, which used to be a controllable, easily measured, one-way communication has become a fragmented, two-way dialogue between advertisers and consumers that’s difficult to monetize and even harder to gauge the effectiveness of. As I was listening, I said to myself, “Uh, I think I’ve heard this somewhere before.” It’s the exact thing the music business has been going through – except in the case of the music business, it’s been going on for the better part of a decade and the resultant carnage to companies, employees and artists (in terms of record sales) has been far more drastic.

The dinner panel I went to was more music business intensive. A lot of talk was about brands and business models, and then to my surprise, the conversation turned to the Grateful Dead, who apparently are being held up as the model to emulate because “they gave away their music for free,” which as the myth goes, ensured them becoming the stadium (and merchandising) juggernaut they were in from the mid-80’s until Garcia’s death in 1995.

Like most myths, this contains the element of truth but are usually used to justify someone else’s ideas of what good “business models” are. Here are some useful separations of myth vs. what actually happened.

Myth #1 – They gave away their music away for free.

The Dead didn’t give away anything for free (with the exception of an occasional free benefit concert). They just didn’t bust tapers at their shows and they turned a blind eye to their fans exchanging live tapes (unless the tapers and/or traders were trying to make a profit). It wasn’t a business model; it was simply an extension of the band’s anti-authoritarian attitude and aversion of control. All of the band’s studio work and their countless live albums were available for pay only.

“I don’t have any desire to control people as to what they’re doing and what they have. There’s something to be said for being able to record an experience you’ve liked, or being able to obtain a recording of it. Actually, we have all that stuff in our own collection of tapes. My responsibility to the notes is over after I’ve played them. At that point I don’t care where they go.” - Jerry Garcia

Myth #2 – “Giving away their music” was the key to their success.

Certainly, the live shows in circulation that hardcore Deadheads traded help build the devotion between the audience and the band, and it helped hardcore Deadheads spread the word. But it was only one element (and probably a smaller one than others) among many.

The Grateful Dead were a touring as opposed to studio band – despite wanting to make great records, and doing so with 1970’s Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty (which took their following up a level in the early 70’s), they were mainly a failure as a recording act. The live show was their strength. Equally influenced by jazz as they were with rock, their devotion to improvisation ensured that each show would be a unique one, never to be repeated. This stood in stark contrast to most rock bands, who played roughly the same set each night. And so they build an enormous cult audience, many of who traveled the country to follow them band; all of which became a story and curiosity in its own right.

In addition, the Grateful Dead live experience wasn’t simply a concert – it encompassed so much more. There was the bazaar outside the show, a self-sustaining economy with everything from veggie burritos, tie-died t-shirts and LSD. There were the Deadheads themselves, thoroughly anachronistic yet welcoming to just about all who entered. Entering a Grateful Dead show was like stepping out of planet earth and into another dimension – and that experience became a ritual and rite of passage for thousands of young Americans for during the course of the band's career.

And what is also conveniently ignored is that the biggest factor in the Dead’s 80’s explosion was what is now called, in new media circles, an “old school driver;” the hit single, “Touch Of Grey,” which went top 10 in 1987. It brought a huge influx of fans (many of who stuck around) and took them from being a band that could sell out arenas, to a stadium band, earning the enormously high grossing touring numbers (and merchandising) they enjoyed in the last years of their career.

Myth #3 – “The Grateful Dead are a great business model to emulate”

Again, this contains an element of truth, but the real story is that the Dead were in serious financial trouble at various points in their career. In the mid to late 70’s and early 80’s, the band may have allowed tape trading, but there was no huge merchandising set up for the band. That all came later, after their late 80’s renaissance. In truth, the band skirted financial difficult for years.

The Grateful Dead were one of the great American bands, but in a climate where everyone is worried about how they are going to get paid for their content, people are confusing the methods of their success for the reasons they were successful. The Grateful Dead became who they were because at their best, the provided an experience of the soul and spirit. Drummer Mickey Hart once said, "The Grateful Dead aren't in the music business. They're in the transportation business," and he was right. They provided a singular experience. Artists and businessmen would do well to concentrate more on the quality of their creation and the singularity of its experience and a little less with the means with which they sell their product.

*This piece from CBS from 1985, just as the Dead scene was getting larger, addresses their appeal from various vantage points. Note that no one says anything about tape trading or getting the music for free.

Dave Alvin On Bo Diddley

I was going to write something about Bo Diddley, but this piece on him by Dave Alvin of the Blasters says everything necessary. Wonderful stuff.

Rock N' Roll True Believing With The Hold Steady

I’ve ceased to be a true believer in rock n’ roll. It’s happened mainly because of a couple of factors. Of course, there’s my ever deepening love of soul, r&b and more recently, jazz, which has taken my ears in new and different directions. The other thing is that I’ve found very little rock in the past 10-15 years that’s I’ve connected to. Alt-rock, in the abstract, has bored me to tears for years. (To listen to modern rock radio is an exercise in self-flagellation) Emo and post-hardcore strikes me less as coherent genres then persistent and long winded complaints. And indie-rock, despite providing many fine albums that I’ve enjoyed over the years, has a certain joylessness; operating under a constraint of studied indifference that while perennially in fashion to the eternally cool everywhere, leaves me more than a little cold. And the rock vanguard's obsession with texture at the expense of song craft has alienated me from the most heralded bands of the day (Wilco, Radiohead, etc).

So I want to love a band like the Hold Steady, a band that’s courageous enough to wear their heart and vulnerabilities on their collective sleeve and smart enough to know the very-fine-line they need to walk if they’re going to pull off being a band of rock n’ roll true believers in 2008. I’ve spent the last couple of days listening non-stop to their new album, Stay Positive, hoping to be inspired by it; enjoying it and even admiring it; but more often than not, wanting more, feeling like this is a good band who have the best of intentions, but are in search of great songs.

But I have to give credit where credit is due. “Sequestered in Memphis” and “Joke About Jamaica” are both excellent, and if the other tracks don’t always reach the level of the sublime, there aren’t any outright clunkers either. Craig Finn’s vocals may be an acquired taste, but in a world of vocalists who don’t even pretend to mean what they sing, I have to recognize. The piano arpeggios are reminiscent of E Street without being a direct rip and the guitars and drums crash and roar in the best way.

It’s hard to fight a battle when the war was lost a long time ago. But what can a rock n’ roll true believer do but sing for a rock n’ roll band? There’s a nobility in the Hold Steady’s music and in their willingness to put passion over smarts, they occasionally, dare I say it, are a soulful rock n' roll band.

Louis Armstrong, Collagist

From the Paris Review (as emailed to me this morning by Rock and Rap Confidential). Great to see how genius translates in other forms.

Al Green: Lay It Down

Let’s get this out of the way: Al Green’s new album, Lay It Down, is not a return to the form of his 1973 masterwork Call Me or the flawed genius of 1977’s The Belle Album. It doesn’t have a song on the level of “Let’s Stay Together,” “Love and Happiness” or “Tired of Being Alone.” It simmers rather than burns. And with that said…

Lay It Down is a lovely album that is probably his best since he returned to recording secular music in the mid-90’s. Producers Ahmir (?uestlove) Thompson (The Roots) and James Poser (Common, Erykah Badu) use Green’s and producer Willie Mitchell's mid-70’s sonic template, but rather than creating a completely retro-vibe, they do a fine job of making that classic Memphis sound feel modern and present. ?uestlove, the finest drummer of his generation, does an especially impressive job emulating the subtle restraint and groove of Stax drummer Al Jackson, Jr., one of the greatest drummers ever and a key component of Green’s greatest records in the 70’s. The Dap-King horns (of Amy Winehouse and Sharon Jones fame) punctuate the proceedings nicely without being obtrusive and the strings shimmer. It’s a recreation of a sound without being regurgitation of one.

But let’s face it – given that the songs, with the exception of “Just For Me,” do not exactly imprint themselves upon the brain, the album works for one main reason – that one-of-a-kind voice. Al has lost little-to-nothing of his range and to hear his falsetto whoops, gravelly assertions and sanctified moans is a slice of soul heaven. John Legend, Anthony Hamilton and Corinne Bailey Rae appear on the album, adding a bit of marketing heft and little else; they all acquit themselves nicely and sound somewhat unnecessary. Bailey Rae, especially, lacks the sensuality to make "Take Your Time" something more than just nice. But hey - marketing is marketing.

There’s a phenomenon in record reviews that I call “Rolling Stones Syndrome.” Basically, it’s when a legend comes out with an album, the reviews say it’s the “best thing they’ve done since [insert classic album title here].” I can’t say for certain whether Lay It Down is the best album he’s done since his classic period. It's almost an impossible standard to live up to. But simply hearing Al Green sing well is one of the great pleasures of life on this planet – and for that alone, I’m happy to have Lay It Down to listen to.

On Thriller And A Shared Cultural Experience

Chris Rizik, the publisher of Soul Tracks, has a fantastic piece about Thriller's 25th Anniversary and what it means in our era of niche marketing and audience fragmentation.

A sample:

Today, a new CD struggles to attract a focused target group of urban college aged men or 30 year old suburban housewives, but nothing approaches the mass audience of Thriller and its progeny a quarter century ago. We are instead in the age of choice, where my love for classic Philadelphia or Detroit soul vocal groups can be satisfied 24/7 and in an exclusive fashion. Not only can I ignore fringe or temporal acts like Maktub or Arcade Fire, I don't even have to waste my time on the biggest stars of the era such as Kanye West or Maroon 5. Instead I can focus exclusively on what I already know I like, as I listen to XM in the car on the way home to plug in my iPod.

If music serves a cultural purpose, if there really is a message in the music (good or bad), the big issue is the price we pay for gratifying our insular tastes at all times. While the purveyors of profanity-laced or violent music love to argue that music simply reflects the culture, the true power of music is its ability to shape culture. The 60s and 70s illustrate this point. Music's power at one end advanced racial equality and changed public sentiment against a no-win war in Southeast Asia. At the other end it healed culture's open wounds by singing that "Love's In Need of Love Today" and "You've Got A Friend." We understood these together. What would we have lost if Curtis Mayfield or Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young had instead been narrowcast to only their most obvious audiences?

Pop radio, while imperfect (political messengers like Mayfield were often forced to become more opaque to get airplay), was one of the great methods of mass communication during the last century. Even beyond the question of its political effect, popular music served to unify, or at a minimum provide the common language that spanned races, genders and ages.

I love what the Internet has made possible - infinite choice and information available for my satisfaction 24/7. But I also miss the experience of a song or album transcending barriers of race, class, gender and age. Maybe such a thing is still possible with the right song and/or artist. I prefer to think it is - despite much evidence to the contrary.

A Three Week Dispatch

Oh dear readers. Did you think that I had abandoned you? Never. I just, well…never mind the explanation. Here are some random recaps from the last three weeks:

One Tuesday morning a couple of weeks back, I’m standing on the platform waiting for the 6 train. A few feet away from me is a doo wop group comprised of four black men in their 50’s. At first, I pay them no mind, but then they start singing the Persuaders classic, “Thin Line Between Love And Hate,” and everything shifts. They nail the opening harmonies and I break into an enormous grin that is returned by one of the singers and I start singing along to myself. The fact that I know both the lyrics and the exact phrasing of the vocals is recognized by the quartet and now they’re all nodding and smiling at me, which in turn, is to be noticed by more than a few people on the subway platform – who begin to rain change upon the quartet, looking utterly mesmorized. The song ends and applause rains down on the singers – just as the subway comes. I bow to the quartet who bow in turn to me. One of life's great little moments.

* * *
I went to Atlanta on April 25 to see Springsteen & the E Streeters, which, in the wake of Danny Federici’s death, I found somewhat depressing. The show began with a video tribute to Danny, which was lovely. What was sort of sad was that it was clear that a good 60% of the audience had no idea who Danny was. People chatted, yelled “Bruuuuuuce,” chatted on their cell phones (easily the most annoying occurrence at any concert) and impatiently waited for the show to start. It really pissed me off and put me in a foul mood for most of the night.

Springsteen looked understandably exhausted and played one of the most random set lists I’ve ever heard him perform. Some nights are magical and some nights aren’t; this night definitely fell into the latter category. But Max Weinberg played perhaps the finest drums I’ve heard him play. I’m frequently critical of Weinberg; he often plays way too rigidly for my tastes. But on this night, he seemed to take it upon himself to provide the momentum for the band, and he played with a combination of power and groove that was masterful.

* * *
I’ve been listening to a lot of different stuff: Santogold (thumbs up), a leak of the new My Morning Jacket (I like it, but I don’t believe that this is the breakthrough that’s been predicted for them – the songs aren’t strong enough), Jamie Lidell (I like the soul vibe, but it feels a little generic), Madonna (a couple of strong tracks, the rest sounds mediocre to drecky to me) , the Kooks (utterly forgettable) and the new Death Cab For Cutie, which upon a couple of listens, I found far more enjoyable than I thought I would.

And all of the above pale in comparison to the 15 disc Chess Records 1947-1975 box set I got last month. It’s 15 discs of magical American music – blues from Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf; r&b from Etta James and a holy host of others and rock from Chuck Berry and many, many more. Each song feels like a gem and it makes the strongest case for Chess being utterly the equal of Atlantic during this particular era. It rewards upon repeated listening – the only danger for me is that it makes everything else sound, well, vaguely unnecessary.

* * *
And finally, being a political junkie and having followed the campaign a little more closely than I’ve needed to, I really wish Hunter S. Thompson were alive and in good form to chronicle it and savage what needs to be savaged. Watching Hillary Clinton’s metamorphosis from the candidate of experience to working class hero has reminded me like nothing else is that the one true guarantee of success in American life is to be utterly shameless. Her campaign has reminded me of a Richard Nixon affair; the seething resentment, the vindictiveness, the ruthlessness and the willingness to say anything to get elected, no matter what. Perhaps that’s true of most, if not all campaigns. The difference is that Clinton, like Nixon, actually gets off on it. Beware of sexless people. They’re dangerous.

Danny Federici: 1950-2008

Danny Federici, the wonderful E Street Band organist, accordionist and keyboard player who played with Bruce Springsteen for almost 40 years, died yesterday after a battle with melanoma. His last full show with the band was in November but there had been word that he was making a recovery (he made a surprise appearance with Bruce last month in Indianapolis), so this very sad news is also somewhat stunning.

Federici began playing with Springsteen in 1969, when Bruce was still a scuffling musician on the Jersey shore, in bands such as Child and Steel Mill. And when Springsteen got his record deal with Columbia in 1972, Federici was immediately called upon to be the organist for what would become the E Street Band, being one of only three musicians to be with the E Street Band throughout its entirety (Clarence Clemons and Garry Tallent are the two others).

Federici was not the most talented technical musician in the E Street Band (that honor would go to Roy Bittan), but as Springsteen acknowledged to Federici in his Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame induction speech, "Your organ and accordion playing brought the boardwalks of Central and South Jersey alive in my music." Danny's playing was simple, direct and warm. On songs like "Kitty's Back" and "4th Of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)," Federici brought an innocence to his playing that felt soulful. And his glockenspiel playing provided one of the essential signature pieces of the Springsteen sound in countless Springsteen classics.

Springsteen's music and persona has always emphasized community, and the E Street Band have always been the manifestation of that community. We look upon the band not as a backup for Bruce, but as part of the family. Danny had an ethereal presence about him, but that presence always solidified when he played. I met him only once, backstage at a big party Sony threw for Bruce and the band after their first Jersey show in '99. I was introduced to him and we shook hands and then later in the evening, while the rest of the band was milling around chatting, I saw him at a table by himself, set apart from the crowd, looking very much in his own world. There was a part of me that wanted to sit down and talk with him, but the look on his face had me feel that I would have been intruding. I have never quite forgotten the expression on his face that night. It was an existentially lonely look.

The songs below provide a range of the immense contribution he made to Bruce Springsteen's music over the years. His sound was one of warmth, friendship and camaraderie - and its those things that have always been at the core of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band's music. He will be sorely missed. Rest in peace, Phantom Dan.




Download: "You Mean So Much To Me" 5/31/73, Richmond, VA
Download: "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)" 4/9/74, Boston, MA
Download: "Prove It All Night" 7/7/78, Los Angeles, CA
Download: "Kitty's Back" 9/19/78, Passaic, NJ
Download: "The Fever" 12/15/78, San Francisco, CA
Download: "Hungry Heart" 8/20/81, Los Angeles, CA
Download: "Racing In The Street" 10/26/84, Los Angeles, CA
Download: "Darlington County" 10/13/86, Mountain View, CA
Download: "My City Of Ruins" 10/27/02, London, England

A Triple Shot Of Soul

As I alluded to in another post a couple of weeks back, I've been drowning in music lately. Whether listening to new releases, demos or or older stuff (like the 15 disc Chess Records box set that I got over the weekend), it's been "too much music, too little time." I've been listening to the new Breeders album (disappointing), the new R.E.M. (pretty good), Erykah Badu (occasionally excellent and often pretentious), the Kills (completely shallow and I like it more than I thought I would), Portishead (has done nothing for me so far) and the Black Keys (loving the vibe) amongst others. And then I listen to the Count Basie box set I bought last month, and then it makes all the new stuff I've heard feel faintly insignificant.

So now that we have that out of the way...let's get to some soul.

Ike Turner & The Kings Of Rhythm - "Gettin Nasty" (1969)

Lost in the myth of Ike Turner, wife-beater, is the fact that he was one of the most influential R&B artists, producers and talent scouts. His 1969 album A Black Man's Soul, is perhaps the greatest showcase for the range of the man's talent. "Gettin' Nasty" is exactly as advertised; a nasty piece of countrified funk that sounds like the Stones based most of Exile on Main Street on it.

Shirley Brown - "Stay With Me"

Shirley Brown's 1974 classic, Woman to Woman, singlehandedly kept Stax afloat as they headed toward their very sad ending in the mid-70's. "Stay With Me" is a epic ballad of pure pleading that showcases that very special voice that, unfortunately, caught a little too much of Aretha's shadow.

Download Woman to Woman at the Amazon MP3 store

Candi Staton - "He Called Me Baby"

From Candi's sessions at FAME studios in Muscle Shoals in the late 60's, "He Called Me Baby" is another of Candi's unheralded classics that for some inexplicable reason, didn't find the audience they should have. Put this on late at night. And buy her self-titled compilation that Capitol released four years ago. I guarantee this album.