Natalie Gardiner: Trouble In Mind
Taken from the Trouble In Mind EP on Ramjac (2004)

Natalie Gardiner: Can’t Quit You Now
Taken from the 12″ on Ramjac (2005)

It’s easy to get lost in old soul tunes. (When I say lost, I mean literally lost. My living room looks like the forgotten underbelly of the New York Public Library.) Part of it owes to the high quality of the music that came out of the 60’s and 70’s, and part of it, as any wax fiend knows, is the hunt itself–the quest for that hithertofore unknown or long forgotten gem that will set the heart and/or dancefloor afire.

But every now and again it’s important to remember–and I believe this deeply–that we are living in an immensely rich musical period right now. Truly great (and innovative) soul music is being created as we speak. Steve Spacek, J*Davey, Badu–this is the real deal ish. So what if it’s not getting radio play. It’s our jobs as music lovers to seek it out for ourselves. You wouldn’t blame a crack dealer for not reaching his market; the onus is on the fiend to get his fix.

All this is just to say that, dipping back into some of my more contemporary finds, I rediscovered these Natalie Gardiner tracks and was reminded like WOAH! This is some heavy soul music.

These tracks come from two separate 12 inches released prior to her debut LP (which dropped last year, I believe). I haven’t actually heard the whole thing, but I think it’s pretty safe to say it’s well worth your $15–that is, if you can find it. Sadly, few publications (print, internet or otherwise) have offered much in the the way of hype.

The producer, a Swede by the name of Ramjac, obviously knew what he was going for with Ms. Gardiner: super stripped-down, moody, broken beat instrumentals that accomodate the purity of her melancholy vocals. Just plain good stuff.

Dig on!

Ramsey Lewis: Kufanya Mapenzi and If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don’t Want To Be Right
Taken from the album Funky Serenity on Columbia (1972)

Ramsey Lewis: Aufu Oodu
Taken from the album Salongo on CBS (1976)

One of the great thrills of a record hunt is the occasional stowaway find. Out at the flea market, digging at a garage sale, you spot a desirable record, pay the crumpled dollar, get home, dip your fingers into the dusty sleeve and remove–what’s this?!? This isn’t Roberta Flack! Why, it’s… SALONGO!

So it was that I discovered Ramsey Lewis at his mid-seventies easy listening/pop-jazz-funk fusion best. It would be another several years before I would actually acquire the record in it’s proper jacket, and only then that I would realize just how indispensible this album really is. Take a closer look, people: that’s Ramsey, in tribal paint, unabashedly beaming… in braces.

Truth be told, Salongo is actually kind of a wack album, full of banal groove, mood music and flaccid synthesizers. That said, the cover is amazing and Aufu Oodu is one of those delectable Afro-centric mid-seventies cuts that you just can’t help but love. If you hear a sonic resemblance to some of Earth, Wind & Fire’s contemporaneous work, it’s because EWF’s frontman/producer, Maurice White is behind the mixing boards.

Far more substantive as a whole album, “Funky Serenity” epitomizes the early seventies fusion sound. (The heavy drum presence, the Rhodes work, and the Zulu track titles are a good tip-off.) This album, which preceeded the much more successful “Sun Goddess” by a year, is easily my favorite of Ramsey’s work from this era.

The highly rhythmic uptempo cut, “Kufanya Mapenzi” was a happy suprise after listening to the “If Loving You…” cover about thirty times in a row. Damn! That song kills me every time. Stay tuned for the Millie Jackson and/or Bobby Bland version in the near future. PEACE!

Paul Humphrey and The Cool Aid Chemists: Detroit and Funky L.A.
Taken from the album Paul Humphrey and The Cool Aid Chemists on Lizard (1971)

MURPHY’S NOTE: Check out Loose Tape for live mixes from the VIA CREW. Also, leave us some feeback, y’all. We don’t do this for nothing but the love. Show love back. Peace.

Now…

With Jay Dee’s death last week, Detroit lost one of the great syncopators it had produced in a very long time. A truly original sound. The father of that hard, soulful boom-bap that became his trademark. In fact, it is possible to say that not since Paul Humphrey had a single artist contributed so much to the rythmic identity of Motor City.

Humphrey, like Dilla, was truly a master of his craft. One of the great session drummers of the sixties and seventies, he worked with everyone from Marvin Gaye to Frank Zappa, Bobby Hutcherson to Steely Dan— the man was everywhere. Motown, Blue Note, it goes on and on. I couldn’t access a single comprehensive listing of his studio work online, mainly because I think it would have crashed my computer.

In these tracks you can begin to see why the man was in such high demand. Hard, fast, crisp like a Vermont morning and, my god, what precision! You can almost hear the metranome asking him to take it easy. As a solo artist he only ever hit the charts with one single, “Cool Aid” (taken from the same album as these), before falling back into the relative obscurity as a background player.

He continued doing studio work through the eighties without too much fanfare, but it wasn’t until just a few years ago that his eminent talent would be highlighted once again (along with James Gadson and Earl Palmer) by the Keeping Time documentary and accompanying discs.

Foster Sylvers: Misdemeanor and Hey, Little Girl and Swooperman
Taken from the self-titled album on Pride (1973)

First thing first: I got a brand spankin’ new mix now available to stream or download as you please. Talk about some dangerously suggestive soul music–dig Stone Cold Soul. Find it here.

I got truckloads of love for M.J., even in spite of his–ahem–character deficiencies. But in 1973, in a head to head battle of the mini-titans of soul-pop, I’d have put my bankroll on Foster Sylvers, ten to one… Break beat for break beat, baby afro to baby afro, prepubescent wail to prepubescent wail, Foster delivered the goods time and time again. And while he and his clan never achieved the commercial successes of The Jacksons, the tremendous value of their early body of work is incontrovertible.

These cuts are taken from young Foster’s first solo release, largely written and arranged by his older siblings. “Misdemeanor” is a classic sampler’s delight, used to great effect on D.O.C.’s “It’s Funky Enough”. The steel drum over the break on “Hey, Little Girl” made me giggle like an eight year old with two fruit roll-ups: happy stuff. And my personal jam, “Swooperman”.

Word to M.J.: Don’t mess with F.S.

Lou Courtney: Shing-A-Ling
Taken from the album Skate Now on Riverside (1967)

Gloria Jones: Tainted Love
Taken from the 7″ on Champion (1964)

King Floyd: Groov-A-Lin
Taken from the album A Man In Love on Pulsar (1965)

Soul Vibrations: Find A Way
Taken from the 7″ on Vibrant (1973)

Welcome to The Land of 1000 Dances! The late Wilson Pickett, who died last week, pretty much nailed the mood of the mid-sixties with that song title. Everybody had a dance. If you didn’t, you probably weren’t selling many records. The Bump. The Cool Shake. The Lurch. The Loop de Loop. And yes, the Shing-A-Ling.

Included in todays post are few choice dance selections from that golden age of the up-tempo stomper, as well as two other Northern Soul gems, the absolutely essential “Tainted Love” and “Find A Way” (which probably doesn’t technically qualify as a N.S. tune, but honestly, who cares?!).

I am still trying, tooth and nail, to get a 60’s soul night going here in L.A. But, big suprise, L.A. is too cool for earth-shakin’ soul tunes. So I will share them with you. Enjoy…

Alphonze Mouzon: Funky Snakefoot and Gotta Have You and The Beggar
Taken from the album Funky Snakefoot on Bluenote (1974)

Ok. So I’ve been gone for a minute. But ask yourself this: if ever there was a way to resurface from oblivion, is this not it. That opening break for “Funky Snakefoot” is straight danger–I was in my living room shouting “Pull up!” to no one. Woah. Best five bucks I ever spent.

Mr. Mouzon is a man of many talents. A pioneering fusion drummer (that’s right, it’s his break), actor, scholar, the man is also responsible for a vast array of the musicianship on Funky Snakefoot. He’s singing, drumming, moog-ing out. Keys, synths, et al. Snakefoot was part of an early run of nasty solo releases that, by mid seventies, gave way to some seriously misguided pop attempts. Funky Snakefoot was followed by Mind Transplant one year later, arguably his last solid record.

The title track is fairly widely-known, primarily for the break (I mean, it hits like a cudgel). For me, however, the real joint is “The Beggar”. When I first heard it I kept praying to the gods of funkiness that the song wouldn’t deteriorate into a slushy, stringy breakdown or a cheap synth bridge. I listened with bated breath. And I listened. Around every turn, Mouzon kept his promise. And by the time he hit the solo near the end of the track I was convulsing on the floor. PULL UP!