Ceil Miner: Stardust
From This Is For the People (Car-dor, 196?)

Lorez Alexandria: I’m Wishin’
From Didn’t We (Pzazz, 1968).

The last time I was in the Bay Area, I picked up this jazz album by vocalist Ceil Miner from the Groove Merchant and was really mesmerized by her rendition of “Stardust.” It’s already a “dreamy” tune to begin with but the way the song opens accentuates it even more. I’ve always liked “Stardust” as a standard and love Miner’s take on it. And it got me thinking of other jazz vocals that have left similar impressions on me; songs the evoke a sense of nostalgia for a time I never lived through yet I have this image (no doubt ripped off from countless movies) of a smokey lounge where the songs waft through.

The first song that immediately came to mind was Lynn Marino singing “Beyond the Clouds” from Frank Cunimondo’s sought-after Feelin’ Good LP. The title cut is the one most people focus on and I’m not going to argue: Marino’s rendition of “Feelin’ Good” is one of the best I’ve ever heard. But as time goes by, I’ve gravitated more to “Beyond the Clouds.” It’s less fiery than “Feelin’ Good” but it’s that subtlety to this song that I think leaves me charmed even more (also, peep that dream-like echo effect at the end, similar to how “Stardust” opens).

What’s funny is that the first time I heard “Stardust,” I thought, “this sounds like a Gilles Peterson song,” by which I mean that Peterson has a real penchant for these kind of jazz vocal songs, as evinced on his Digs America series. It’s on last year’s Vol. 2 where he turned me onto this great Lorez Alexandria song, “I’m Wishin’.” I wrote about this before but it was worth bringing back for a second spin, especially in fitting into the post’s theme.

Dream on, draem on. (And if you got recommendations for similar tunes, please comment!)

Gladys Knight: Try to Remember/The Way We Were
From I Feel a Song (Buddah, 1974). Also on The Essential Collection.

Freeway: When They Remember
From Free At Last (Roc-A-Fella, 2007)

Yeah, I know it’s been a minute since the last “Who Flipped It” segment. This one came to mind the other week when I was chatting about this Gladys Knight song with my wife and I thought about both the Wu and Freeway songs that use Knight’s vocals so effectively. But before we get there, let me just note that it wasn’t until that conversation that I realized: duh, this was the same song as Barbra Streisand’s hit. Not only that but Knight manages to combine the song with lyrics from The Fantasticks, making this song an impressive proto-mash-up conceit.

Musically, RZA doesn’t really much of Knight’s song for “Can It Be So Simple” (look to Labi Siffre for that) but the song also wouldn’t be the same without the forlorn sounding snippet of Knight ghosting into the chorus. In contrast to that kind of subtlety, Bink decides to set off a bomb in your face when he takes a different part of the song and uses it power Freeway’s explosive “When They Remember” (one of my favorite songs of all 2007…the energy here is so palatable). On hypeness, I’d have to give the nod to Bink’s flip.

Max Roach with the J.C. White Singers: Were You There When They Crucified My Lord
From Lift Every Voice and Sing (Atlantic, 1971)

Gil Scott-Heron/Brian Jackson: Peace Go With You Brother
From Winter In America (Strata-East, 1974)

When I was in Duke the other month, Mark Anthony Neal was telling me about this Max Roach and J.C. White Singers album and how powerful it was, especially the hymnal, “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord.” Unfortunately, it’s not the easiest album to track down – it’s been out of print on CD for a while – so it took some footwork (read: eBay + patience) to track down the LP but *whistle* was it worth the wait.

Let’s just first say that the sound of the song runs deep and for good reason: this is a Joel Dorn production, which is perhaps why – even though I had never heard the song before – it sounded familiar, like a lost Headless Heroes song. J.C. White has such a powerful, resonant voice on the song; the music has a slow, measured power to it too, of course, but it’s White’s vocals that brings the song down upon you. But wait toward the end, when the full chorus comes in and the song’s emotional state changes from morose to uplifting – it’s stunning.

For whatever reason, listening to this, I kept thinking about Gil Scott-Heron – stylistically, there’s some clear similarities – and it motivated me to pull out one of my favorite albums by him, Winter In America (almost certainly the most successful Strata-East title ever). “Peace Go With You My Brother” begins the album and it sets a tone that, like the Roach/White song, tells you, “this is some serious sh–, listen up.” Musically, the texture of the song benefits so richly from the use of electric piano (I’m assuming Rhodes here, given the flange effect). The song sounds marshmallow mellow on one hand but when you listen to what Heron is singing about, there’s a abiding darkness that seeps into the otherwise soft musical fabric.

This pair of songs is best heard beginning with a deep breath. Then dive in.

Ok, with that said though, I still wanted to bring the energy level up and the perfect fit, especially with the gospel/spiritual-edge of “Were You There” would be to end this post with a little Joubert Singers:

The Joubert Singers: Stand on the Word
From 7″ (Next Plateau, 1985)

I first discovered this through Murphy’s Law and not having heard a lot of gospel disco, I wasn’t sure what to expect but good god (appropriately enough), this song is – no blasphemy intended – f—ing incredible. According to discogs.com: “”Stand On The Word” was first ever recorded live in the First Baptist Church in Crown Heights, NYC, in 1982. Soon after the church pressed up a couple of hundred copies for the congregation,” upon which, it was discovered by local DJs at places like Garage, The Loft, etc. and ended up getting a promo-release on Next Plateau (on both 12″ and 7″). There’s some disagreement over who actually remixed the song – there’s a bootleg 12″ you can find that credits Larry Levan but the actual record nods to Tony Humphries so go figure. Either way, it’s just great.

I played this at Boogaloo[L.A.] and apparently, someone actually knelt to the floor and gave thanks at the song’s completion. I kind of get that feeling too with it.

First off, for my Angelinos, Joe Bataan is playing at the Crazy Horse in West Covina on Sunday. See you there!

I recently finished up a set of liner notes for an upcoming anthology on Joe’s rich recording catalog for the Fania label. As folks probably know, I’m a huge fan of Joe and it’s been a genuine honor to be able to interview him over the years and bring attention to his remarkable career.

This post is part of the boogaloo series (and I’ll do some more closer to the date the comp drops) but was really inspired by what is Joe’s best-known song, “Ordinary Guy.” It’s not just a fan favorite – he’s recorded it five times (and released it six) – but it’s also a song integral to his own self of self; he may be a star but in his own mind, he’s still just a regular Joe (you saw that coming, right?) From the man himself: “While in prison, we did a lot of experimenting with songs. I had first heard the title “Ordinary Guy” in prison in Coxsackie, so I eventually rewrote the words, came back home, put ’em to music. The song makes me cry sometimes when I see the reaction of people. In New York, it is so popular. People just love that song, and I guess the words mean a lot. “Hey, I’m just an ordinary guy, don’t expect anything else. That’s me” and I’ve always been that way. Having sung the song and how I have endeared a lot of people, how they felt about it, only influenced me more [to] give more of my heart than almost any other song. It describes me.”

CONTINUE READING…


Joe Bataan: Ordinary Guy
From Gypsy Woman (Fania, 1967)

The original version of “Ordinary Guy” was recorded for Gypsy Woman, Joe’s debut album for Fania. He and his band, the Latin Swingers, recorded the album in one single studio session, a relatively unusual practice. By the end of the day, Joe had this – his last song – left to record but his voice was starting to give out. Session engineer (and Fania co-founder) Johnny Pacheco asked, “‘Don’t you want to come back tomorrow?’ and I said no,” said Joe. “Actually, my fear was that they were going to change their mind and not use it.” So, even with his voice at the point of breaking, they recorded this and completed the entire album that day.

Ordinary Guy
From 7″ (Fania, 1967)

For reasons that not entirely clear, Fania decided to re-record the song to release on single. For the most part, this 7″ version isn’t wildly different from the LP except that Fania brought in pianist Richard Tee. Tee changes the opening to the song, giving it a stronger presence, especially with a striking arrangement that sounds very much like the beginning of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s “Precious Love.” This is probably my favorite version of the song, precisely for that intro which gives the tune such a rich, soulful feel to it. (Thanks to Reynaldo for digitizing).

Ordinary Guy
From Riot! (Fania, 1968)

By Joe’s third album, the gold-selling Riot!, Fania convinced him to record the song again, but this time with a dramatic makeover as the song was given a new arrangement by Broadway’s Harold Wheeler. Joe admits, “I didn’t particularly like it…I love it now but at the time, I just thought he was altering my music because he gave it this jazzy feel. It had to grow on me because I thought it was too fast.” This new version, in my opinion, is lovely and a great change-up from the original. Wheeler adds in some vibes, speeds up the tempo a bit, and has Joe open with some soaring vocals and well-timed drum hits.

It’s worth noting, Fania put this same recording – albeit longer by a few seconds – onto Joe’s Singin’ Some Soul album. I’m guessing it’s because they thought it’d fit well with the concept of that album. That would be the last time Joe recorded “Ordinary Guy” for Fania.

Muchacho Ordinario
From Salsoul (Mericana, 1973)

The next incarnation of the song is perhaps the most unique: a Spanish-language version that appeared on Joe’s first post-Fania album, Salsoul. The arrangement is completely different too – here, the song isn’t really in the R&B vein, it’s much more like a son montuno. Bueno!

Ordinary Guy
From Afrofilipino (Salsoul, 1975)

The final version of the song came on the next album, Afrofilipino. This is a version I know a lot of Soul Sides folks are familiar with – I comped it for Soul Sides Vol. 1. I like to think of it as a bridge version between the Latin-fied flavor of “Muchacho Ordinario” and the more R&B stylings of the earlier versions. The song is more in a soul vein in the beginning but at the end, he yells, “salsa!” and the ballad then transforms into a whirling dance tune.

Unraveling musical mysteries is part of what motivates me as a music journalist. I don’t claim to be very good or thorough at it, but the process alone is a way to appreciate the beauty and complexity of music-making that isn’t necessarily transparent through listening alone (or, er, the sonic equivalent of “transparency”).

This post is one such example and it begins, for me at least, with a song called “Happy Soul” that appears on an album by The Moon People that I picked up at the Groove Merchant a few years back. (Note: ironically, “Happy Soul” is the one song I did NOT include in the Suite but for reasons that will become clear shortly). “Happy Soul” is very striking, especially for a Latin soul song because 1) it’s fast and 2) it’s funky. Really funky. Funkier than most Latin soul songs one can think of. I would play it out when I could, especially because it’s a great “transition” track between Latin and funk sets. It’s not surprisingly then that, in 2006, when the DJ Premier-produced Xtina Aguilera single, “Ain’t No Other Man” came out, I recognized the sample immediately.

At least I thought I did.

A little while later, I heard “Happy Soul (With a Hook)” by Dave Cortez with the Moon People and it was basically the same instrumental track as “Happy Soul” but with Cortez’ trademark organ vamping all over it. Then, last year, I discovered the Latin Blues Band and their album, Take a Trip Pussycat. On there, they have a song called, “I’ll Be a Happy Man” and it is basically, the same exact song as “Happy Soul” only with vocals (and without the Cortez organ).

The plot thickened.

The LBB, the Cortez single and the Moon People album are all on Speed, a smaller Latin label of the late ’60s that specialized in Latin soul and boogaloo bands, including Frankie Nieves, and one of the rare female Latin groups, Dianne and Carole and the Latin Whatchamacallits. It’s one of the great, great Latin boutique labels of that era and the Big Ol’ Bag O Boogaloo series comps heavily from their catalog (with some odd omissions but that’s for another time). It was on that album that I heard The Moon People’s “Hippy Skippy Moon Strut” which sounded like the Cortez’ song but minus the organ and with a new piano arrangement.

WTF?

Around the same time I acquired a copy of the LBB album (thanks Rodney!), I also stumbled across this feature on the great Spectropop website (Latin fans should check out their thorough Tico feature). They finally helped me put many of the details together and I’m trying not to duplicate their already great work but, there was one element yet to add here: the testimony of Bobby Marin.

Marin is a composer and producer and he and his brother Richard were major players in the NY Latin scene in the 1960s and ’70s. I spoke to Marin while putting together the liner notes for an upcoming Fania anthology on Joe Bataan and wanting to take advantage of being able to speak to such a storied veteran in the scene, I asked him what some of his favorite compositions were and he named “I’ll Be a Happy Man.” At that point, I didn’t own the album yet so I had no idea he, along with Louie Ramirez and other players, were in the Latin Blues Band and I asked him to trace for me the history of the song. Between the Spectropop site and Marin’s own information, here’s what I was able to pull together (and to be sure, I really should talk to Marin again to fill in blanks):

Morty Craft – who ran Speed and was the main producer for the label – reassembled the Latin Blues Band into The Moon People. I’m not clear why he did this nor why he would have the group essentially record over their own LBB backing tracks with slight changes (but sans vocals) and then release it as its own album. I guess Craft felt like he could sell consumers the same songs twice. “Happy Soul,” from what I can tell, is simply “I’ll Be a Happy Man” without vocals. Well, almost without vocals…Marin told me that when he was in the studio, editing the Land of Love album, he insisted that they keep something of his original vocals, which ended up being a “whoooo!” somewhere in there. (In any case, I didn’t include “Happy Soul” in the suite since it’s a subtraction with no additions, unlike the other songs).

Soon thereafter, Craft sold the mechanical rights to that instrumental to Morris Levy at Roulette. At that point, the song transforms into “Happy Soul With a Hook.” The original piano is stripped off and replaced with Cortez’ organ playing plus some spacey wah-wah guitar. Speed ends up releasing this “new” song as a single. According to Spectropop, “Hippy Skippy Moon Strut” appears just a few months later and it is basically “Happy Soul With a Hook” minus organs, keeping the wah-wah, and throwing on that new piano arrangement I mentioned plus some vocals yelling, “hippy skippy!” and similar phrases. That single appears on Roulette rather than Speed (possibly because the latter had been purchased by Roulette by this point). Then fast forward nearly 40 years and DJ Premier flips “Hippy Dippy” for Xtina and the story ends.

Well, not quite.

My convo with Marin yielded two more tidbits of information. First of all, RCA apparently didn’t clear the sample correctly. My guess is that they cleared the mechanical rights but not the songwriter rights and when Fania (who, by now, owned the Speed catalog) figured this out, they got ready to sue. The problem is: they didn’t know who the original composer was either and one day, when Marin was visiting, they asked him, “hey, would you happen to know who the composer is?” upon which Marin replied, “yeah…me.” So as it turns out, Marin is waiting to see if a settlement happens, and if so, he likely stands to make a nice piece of change off this.

The second piece of info I gleaned from him was around who the hell was the drummer on the song. After all, one reason why the song stands out so much, why it probably got remade three times and then sampled, is because of those drum breaks. They’re unusual for a Latin soul song – I can’t think of many other songs in that era that featured open breakbeats – so I had to ask Marin about it. His reply, “well, that was Bernard Purdie.”

Jaw drop.

That explains quite a bit…and it makes total sense (Purdie did a grip of studio work in NY in that era, plus the drumming sounds like something he’d put together) but it’s a detail that, as far as I can tell, no one has ever noted before. And that, my friends, is the kind of discovery that motivates me to get up every morning. With all that, thanks for reading…here’s the “Happy Soul Suite” for your edification:

Soul-Sides.com presents…The “Happy Soul Suite”

Created from…

The Latin Blues Band feat. Luis Aviles: (I’ll Be A) Happy Man
From Take a Trip Pussycat (Speed, 1968)

Dave Cortez with The Moon People: Happy Soul (With A Hook)
From 7″ (Speed, 1968). Also on El Barrio: The Bad Boogaloo.

The Moon People: Hippy, Skippy Moon Strut
From 7″ (Roulette, 1969). Also on Big Ol’ Bag O’ Boogaloo Vol. 1.

Christina Aguilera: Ain’t No Other Man
From Back to Basics (RCA, 2006)

Rabbits & Carrots: Las 4 Culturas + Romeo Y Julieta
From Soul Latino (Musart, 1969). Also available on LP.

Bonus: Rabbits & Carrots: Express Yourself (snippet)
From We Got More Soul EP (Musart, 1971). Also on Soul Latino (CD but not LP)

File Soul Latino under those albums seemingly too good to be true – a group of Mexican rock/jazz musicians with a trio of brothers and nephews at core – sitting down in 1968 to record a series of instrumentals, most of them with a hard, funk edge. Frankly, if someone had told me this was some retro-soul band, masquerading as a vintage group with that backstory – I’d sooner believe the hoax. Not that Mexico City would lack the necessary musicians to put something like this together but it’s like stumbling across an album such as that by Chile’s infamous Xingu. Given how rare this purports to be, it’s a genuine treat that the folks at Vampisoul got Musart’s permission to reissue it.

Yes indeed: Rabbits & Carrots were real, as was their Soul Latino album and subsequent EP. That album constitutes one of the holy grails of Mexican funk albums and it’s not just because of rarity or its unusualness – it’s damn well put together and recorded well. Check out how they take on Don Randi’s “Theme From Romeo and Juliet” – all dissonant whines and moody loops, beautifully accented by Luis Agúero’s guitar and a brass section lead by Ramón Flores and Ramón Negrete and I’m assuming its bad leader and percussionist Salvador Agüero on those tinkling chimes.

“Las 4 Culturas,” according to the liner notes, is the album’s sole “original” song, a song about the Tlateloco Massacre. That may very well be true that the song is meant to inspire awareness around the murder of potentially 200-300 people before the Mexico City Olympics but musically speaking, most people would probably note: “uh, isn’t this ‘Get Up, Get Into It, Get Involved’ by James Brown?” And you’d be right – it is. In fact, that’s how it’s billed on this 12” from a year or so ago. Not that I’m complaining – it would make sense to take a song with a title as politically charged as Brown’s and reapply it to the happenings in Mexico City.

For a bonus cut, I threw on a tease of the group’s 1971 cover of “Express Yourself.” This came after Salvador Agüero (nickname “Rabito,” hence the group’s name) left the band and a vocalist named Max (Max what?) joined. This isn’t necessarily my favorite cover of the Watts 103rd’s immortal classic but I dig its Spanish-language remake and given the timing with the Watts 103rd Week, it seemed only apropos (plus, that ridiculous drum-break toward the end doesn’t hurt either). Just be aware: this song, along with covers of “Sex Machine,” “We Got More Soul” and “Spill the Wine” are available on the CD of the album, as well as a separate EP, but it’s not on the vinyl LP version of the Soul Latino album.