Al Williams: I Am Nothing
Taken from the 7″ on La Beat (1966)

George Jackson: Aretha, Sing One For Me
Taken from the 7″ on Hi (1972)

I’ve paid a lot of money for a record. A month’s worth of groceries. A brake job. A plane ticket (on Jetblue). I would usually keep this kind of financial information to myself. For starters, I guess it ain’t really anybody’s business. And for seconders, well, most people just couldn’t possibly fathom dropping that much cash on a flimsy piece of black wax–present company excluded, I presume.

There is a difference, however, between spending a hundred–maaaaybe two, if it’s extra sick–and tapping one’s bank account for, oh say, $2316. 78. Just for example.

Two days ago an Ebay auction ended. When the dust cleared, one lucky(?) bidder could claim ownership of a seven inch circle of vinyl (Condition: VG to VG+), recorded in the year 1966 by a man named Al Williams. That same lucky(?) bidder could also claim bankruptcy. $2316.78…

Here’s the beauty of it: The seller had loaded a sound clip of the record onto the auction site. I’m not sure whether or not he meant to put up the whole song, but in any case, being the savvy downloader that I am, I jumped all over it. Now it’s yours. So for all of us who don’t have a few months’ rent to throw around, I offer you this. A rich man’s music, for the masses. Pure, sweet northern soul. All two thousand dollars worth.

The other track I’m putting up today probably sells for a bit less on Ebay (about 2,298 dollars less). Like the Williams tune, it was only released as a 7″, though undoubtedly as part of a MUCH larger pressing. George Jackson recorded only about twenty singles over the course of his solo career (’63-’78), but DAMN if this song doesn’t just remind me why I started listening to soul music in the first place. Trademark Hi Records sound with Jackson’s beautiful tenor waxing nostalgic on the Queen herself, Ms. Aretha Franklin. His empassioned reverence. His sorrowful voice. Hey George, sing one for me…

As a side note, I wonder which of these two songs I’d rather be stranded with on a desert island. I certainly like the Al Williams track. But I think I’d rather have the homage to Aretha and an extra two G’s in my bank account… Although, I guess if I were on a desert island, my bank accound wouldn’t matter much.

Lou Courtney: Since I First Layed Eyes On You
Taken from the album I’m In Need Of Love on Columbia (1973)

Turner Bros.: Every Time I’m Near You
Taken from the album Act 1 (1974) reissued on Ubiquity

Latimore: All The Way Lover
Taken from the album It Ain’t Where You Been on Glades(1977)

I yearn for slow jams. YEARN. Some nights, I stand by my turntables for hours—literally—dropping these tunes back to back. The Ohio Players’ “Skin Tight” ranks pretty high. So does Lenny Williams’ “Cause I Love You.” Don’t get me started on The New Birth. For lack of actually having a girlfriend, somebody to pour my heart into, these songs are the next best thing. They feel like a bloodline.

Part of the beauty of the slow jam is that a lot of the rules that normally designate what constitutes “cool” or “interesting” music, can be ignored. A slow jam thrives on it’s capacity to capture a listener on the grounds of pure emotive relatability. So, in listening to these, try to ignore the “lack of innovation” perhaps. Or a single sappy line. Instead focus on the glorious whole, on the feeling of warmth that pervades your soul when the song is through. Such is the power of the slow jam.

I can’t sing loud enough praises for Lou Courtney. I posted a track off his first LP, Skate Now, a while back and would have posted more of his stuff sooner if it wasn’t so damn hard to come by. I’ve been trying to get my hands on a few particular 45’s of his for some time now… to no avail. If anyone out there wants to be extra friendly, he can send me a copy of “Hot Butter N All” and “Hey Joyce”. Please.

I wish I could say I had the original of this Turner Bros. LP. But I don’t. If you want the lowdown on one of the most original, dynamic, soulful early 70’s soul outfits you might as well just go here.

Finally, Latimore. This is the REAL deal-y-o insofar as—well, it’s really, really slow. Also worth noting: the man who produced most of Latimore’s work for Glades went by the name Steve “EVERY DAY I CRY” Alaimo. No joke. So, yeah. Enjoy that.

p.s. Thanks to everyone that came out to the Via seasonal on Saturday. Sound system was on the wack side, but the groove lives on!

The Sweet Inspirations: Crying In The Rain
Taken from the album Sweets For My Sweet on Atlantic (1969)

Gwen McCrae: It Keeps On Raining
Taken from the 7″ on Cat (1975)

Truth be told, this post was supposed to go up days ago, when it might have still been apropos of the dismal weather. As it is, the information vanished from my computer not once but twice (damn this tricknology!) and the weather cleared up. So here I am, fresh back from the fireworks spectacle over the Brooklyn Bridge and ready to make a third attempt at delivering these tunes to the people.

The Sweet Inspirations were fronted by a certain Cissy Houston, mother of a certain Whitney. They cut several LP’s in the late sixties and early seventies, though none of them fared very well commercially. Ultimately they would become much more successful–monetarily at least–singing backup vocals for none other than… Elvis.

Gwen McCrae is a stranger to no one. The above track originally appeared as the B-side to the monster tune “Rocking Chair”, which would later appear on an album of the same name.

Because I drank to much good ol’ American Budweiser today; and because I’ve written these very words several times already, I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. Enjoy the music.

(P.S.–The photo up there of The Inspirations album doesn’t depict the actual cover of the album on which the “Rain” song appears. I just couldn’t get my hands on a digital camera. Sorry.)

Joe Hicks: Train Of Thought and Ruby Dean and Water Water
Taken from the album The Mighty Joe Hicks on Enterprise (1973)

Okay, so first thing first: I’ve got enough Theraflu in me to sedate a bear, so be patient with me as I attempt to string together a few coherent sentences about the elusive Mr. Hicks.

Despite the fact that this record isn’t all that rare, information on Joe Hicks is incredibly scant. Recorded on the Stax subsidary, Enterprise, the only real clues to his work are present in the “thank you’s” on the back of the record. Hicks shouts out the prolific Stax writer/arranger Spooner Oldham (who he calls Old Ham), but more significantly Sly and Freddy Stone, who apparently collaborated with Hicks on some of his earliest sides. (In “Water Water” you can hear the pulsing, organ-heavy Sly Stone influence running deep.)

I found it interesting that in an exhaustive internet search, the only words I could uncover about Joe and his one release, were tepid (or worse) reviews that suggested the record’s only worth lay in the delectable open drum break on the album opener, “The Team”. Personally, I find that the album as a whole is wonderful, if a bit disjointed. From the psychaedelic space-funker “Train of Thought”, to the almost Lynard Skynard-esque southern blues-rock of “Ruby Dean” there is a lot of soul, a lot of drums and plenty of organ to boot! No one would argue that his is the purest of tenors, but as a start to finish play, the record is a sure fire winner. Nay-sayers be damned!!!

Candi Staton: Sure As Sin
Taken from the 7″ on Fame (1972)

Esther Phillips: Home Is Where The Hatred Is
Taken from the 7″ on Kudu (1972)

I’ve been revisiting some of my old seven inch cache recently and was pleased to turn up these gems: two blisteringly soulful tracks from 1972, that found each artist in top form.

Candi Staton was called the First Lady of Southern Soul; this track hints as to why. If you aren’t familiar with her work, this collection is a pretty good primer to one of the preeminent soulstresses of the era. “Sure As Sin ” was recorded at Rick Hall’s iconic Fame studios in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. I believe (correct me if I’m wrong) it was one of the cuts that appeared on the LP Stand By Your Man. That album, along with two other releases in ’69 and ’74, I’m Just A Prisoner and a self-titled release, comprise a substantial portion of her best work. Powerful, nuanced southern soul. (If you can get your hands on any of her early, pre-disco work with Fame–lucky you. Shit’s hard to come by.)

Esther Phillips, on the other hand, has never been one of my favorite soul divas. She straddled too many genres, often missing the mark by making blues too pop’ish or countrifying (sic?) soul classics to little effect. This record, however, stands out head and shoulders above anything else I have heard from Ms. Phillips. The deceptive bouce-funk of an introduction gives way to vocals that would make a bishop kick in a stain glass window. And the horns that chase her through the track. And the string stabs. I’ve got crazy love for the original, but seriously–Gil Scott who? The song is especially poignant in light of the fact that the drug addictions with which Esther Phillips perenially battled, finally took her life within a few years of this recording.

Stay tuned for Soul Sisters, Part Two…

Sly, Slick & Wicked: Love Gonna Pack Up (And Walk Out)
Taken from the 7″ on Bad Boys (197?)

Today I present a real treat. Discoverd deep in dollar bin at the Pasadena Flea Market, this song has been playing non-stop chez moi for the last two months. To my taste, this is very nearly a perfect soul song. Period.

I would put this alongside Darondo’s recently re-discovered and much-hyped “Didn’t I”, as a 70’s soul music masterpiece. The fact that, like Darondo, Sly, Slick & Wicked is a certifiable mystery, only makes the record that much jucier.

Not to be mistaken with a lesser, Cleaveland-based Sly, Slick & Wicked (also a 70’s R&B group), the geniuses in question hailed from none other than my own glorious backyard: East L.A. And that’s about all I know. Supposedly SS&W released a single uber-rare LP (cerca 1975) which fetches a very pretty penny whenever it surfaces. Deservedly so.

Listen to those rolling drums, the languid keys work, the emotive vocals. The call and response break downs for Chrissake!!! Leave me on a desert island with nothing more than the memory of this song, and I would die a happy man.

Los Angeles represent!

(p.s. If anyone has further information about these cats, please share it in the comments section.)