Albert King, Pop Staples & Steve Cropper: Tupelo
taken from the album “Jammed Together” on Stax (1969)

Charlie Musselwhite: Christo Redemptor
taken from the album “Stand Back!” on Vanguard (1966)

There was a time when mixtapes spoke the words that we didn’t know how to. Maybe it was in the eighth grade, and you, lacking the proper tag lines or else not having reached the necessary threshold of drunkenness, couldn’t possibly conjure in your own stoned-out vernacular how you felt about such-and-such dream girl. But you had to tell her somehow. So you spent hours in front of your boom box digging out proper servings “Bonita Applebaum”, “Sexual Healing”, “Brown Eyed Girl”—whatever. The fact that you were jumping more genres, song-to-song, than a David Byrne compilation didn’t matter: What mattered was the message. And how that message was conveyed by the masters; guys who’d been in your selfsame shoes, had a little perspective, and had a few choice lyrics and a nice groove to jam on.

You’d give the girl the tape with a timid grin, and maybe she’d give it a listen and maybe she wouldn’t. And maybe she’d understand the not-so-clandestine message and maybe she wouldn’t. But at least you’d said your piece.

Blues music has always been particulary potent in these contexts. Mainly because, at its core, it is so emotionally evocative. And, not incidentally, because a vast quantity of the stuff was recorded specifically to either woo a girl or to pine her leaving. It comes from an emotional place.

But let’s forget about the girl for a minute. What I’m really getting at is the rawness of the sentiment that is expressed through a plaintive falsetto, or the transcendent power of a repetitive blues riff. In many cases the lyrics themselves are almost arbitrary. (Some of the most moving moments in blues music are in the half-sung, improvised raps in the middle of an otherwise scripted song.) It’s that you can simply feel what is being sung or played or even just rapped about.

So here’s the rub. I was driving up to S.F. about a week and a half ago—just as the flood waters were rising, and New Orleans was devolving into chaos—listening to hour after hour of NPR coverage of the horrors going on down there, and I started to feel overwhelmed with all these inexplicable feelings. And I couldn’t make any sense of them. So I turned the radio off somewhere around Fresno. I popped in an old mixtape I had made a few years back and the first song to play is “Tupelo”. And about a minute in, when Pop says “women and children/ screaming and crying, “—man, I just lost it.

Without getting too leaden with the touchy-feely talk, this post is in honor of the folks down there. These tracks resonate very strongly with me right now. Individually and especially together they possess all of the painfully acute resonance of great music that just makes sense given the right context.

The first track is an all-star line-up of Stax vets, Pop Staples (of the more gospel-oriented Staples singers), virtuoso southpaw guitarist Albert King, and Steve Cropper, who, as a founding member of the MG’s, and as a writer/arranger for Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett and Sam & Dave, was instrumental in creating the 60’s southern soul sound. The three of them united on “Jammed Together” (produced by Isaac Hayes) to create an essential late 60’s blues record.

Charlie Musselwhite hailed originally from Missouri, but arrived at legendary bluesman status under the tutelage of the great Sonny Boy Williamson on the Chicago scene in the 60’s. Christo Redemptor (an appropriately Biblical title given the magnitude of the disaster in the Gulf states) is taken from his first release, “Stand Back!”

Gal Costa : O Vento
taken from the album “Gal Canta Caymmi” on Philips (1976)

Gal Costa : Minha Estrela E Do Oriente
taken from the album “Caras & Bocas” on Philips (1977)

First off, some basic news:
The Crate now has another official vinyl-freak bloggerista! Let’s all give a warm welcome to L.A.’s illest up ‘n comer DJ/beat meistro- Murphy’s Law (ever though of Murphy Slaw as an alternate?). He’s the man responsible for the 80’s soul gems from last week, and he also happens to be my little bro. For all you cats who rely on your weekly fix, we’re upping the dosage, so be forewarned. That means twice the Gumbo Funk, laid down thick and saucy from both coasts. Slurp it up.

Been busy here, working a bit of sound design for a cool indy theater production that’s a worthy ticket for anyone in search of a good laugh. Props to the Posse. Got busy with big bad Busquelo at Bembe on Thursday night and that’s looking like it’ll start to be a regular throwdown. Getting juiced for Quantic meets Nickodemus here in BK this upcoming week. Then again @ Turntables on the Hudson, I told you already that the album is hot! I’m also spinning at the Kontrast show this Wednesday at The Slipper Room. Swing by and check out some seriously talented hip hop headz. And there’s about 200 other dope parties popping off that I’m probably gonna miss- there can be no doubting that the city keeps you on yer toes.

You want to hear about Gal Costa yet? In the scheme of her career, these two albums are not the most outstanding and rebellious. But I think it’s a crime to overlook the moments of greatness that pop up herein. O Vento’s simple “tic toc” groove has more than enough bump to keep me satisfied, and her jumpy vocal tweaking towards the close of the track is healthy food for a vocalist. Estrela is more of what I like in the first cut. Smooth and choppy at the same time, it’s jazzy funk with a really catchy hook. This is one of those tunes that will pop into my head randomly while waiting for a train at 2 AM after not listening to the record for months. There’s at least 2 other tracks on the disc that will likely have a similar effect on you. You can pick up a copy of “Caras & Bocas” for $8 and see for yourself.

Midnight Star : Curious
taken from the album “Planetary Invasion” on Solar (1984)

Imagination : So Good, So Right
taken from the album “Body Talk” on MCA (1981)

Someday I’ll have children. Not soon, but eventually. And someday those children of mine will reach an age when, if but slowly, they awaken to the world of soul music. Perhaps they’ll be listening to the radio in friend’s car one day and hear those first plucked strings of Love and Happiness, or maybe they’ll be seduced in a record store by Sam Cooke’s alluring smile, enough to pick up Night Beat and give it a listen.

If my future progeny inherit even a shadow of my love for R&B, they’ll be hooked from that day forward. Chances are they’ll want to know more about this universe of groove… At which point, noticing the tens of thousands of records (let’s be optimistic here: this is years from now) that their father has lying around the house, my child may come to me and say, ‘Father, tell me what you know about this thing called Soul Music.’

I could begin with the obvious choices. Marvin. Ray. Stevie. Curtis. Babyface. But no, I must remind myself, I will save those for later; those musical monoliths will be discovered in due course. I will begin my story elsewhere, in the least likely of places: A land of twinkling synthesizers and flaring purple outfits. A land of blips and beeps and drum machines. A land where superstars were defined both by the length of their jeri-curl and their instrumental intro’s. Where all roads lead to glorious, candle-lit, very slow sex. This is 80’s soul.

Midnight Star is a clear favorite. Purveyors of “Midas Touch” and “No Parking On The Dancefloor“-quality jams, the Calloway brothers hit (harder still?) with the subtler, drop-them-panties anthem that was later sampled to great effect by Kurious Jorge (an essential early-Nineties one-album wonder who has since dropped into obscurity). There is an element of cheesiness that pervades many of the masterworks of this genre, but don’t be fooled—these are certified bullets. The kind of tune that registers on such a satisfying gut level, that I have actually seen grown white men weep on a dancefloor when Curious drops.

Lesser known Imagination can hang with the best of them. A European, Eighties-era funk/soul outfit? Unheard of, right? (No, Boney-M doesn’t count.) If the three solid minutes of slow-building electro-instrumental introduction (think Kano) don’t have you and your girl in a compromised position on your parents’ couch then you’ll certainly find yourself there by the time the hauntingly simple chorus hits. And it is Oh-so-good, Oh-so-right.

For added effect, drop the two, back to back in a set. They mix perfectly and will very likely induce massive group ejaculation.

With a little fatherly advice like this, it’s safe to say my kids are gonna get laid. A lot.

Keziah Jones : Kpafuca
taken from the album “Black Orpheus” on EMI (2003)

Ikwunga with Dele Sosimi : Di Bombs
taken from the album “Calabash” on Rebisi Hut Records (2004)

A while back now (I guess it’s been 6 months already), I had the opportunity to bring the currently reigning Rugged-Afro-Diva-Empress (shown above in the ill VIA logo shirt), known to the world as Wunmi, on my radio show. We started the conversation talking about her involvement with a really good independent Afrobeat compilation called A.S.A.P., which donates proceeds towards the relief effort in Darfur. One of her songs is featured on the comp, along with a different selection from Keziah and the Ikwunga track I’m posting this week.

Thinking about New Orleans, I was reminded of our interview, and the similarly despicable show of inhumanity that continues to express itself in East Africa today. It also happens to be that she’s performing tomorrow as part of the Afro-Punk extravaganza. I’m hoping she does a live version of the extremely firey single she recently cut with West African groove guru Franck Biyong. The scene will be extra heated tomorrow for sure, because just like Kanye, there’s nuff folks who are sizzling and stewing and boiling over. And that’s where music comes from- don’t ya know?

Nigerian born Keziah Jones is “Captain Rugged”. This album is nothing short of mind-blowing. Dead on. From future afro-funk, to broken soul, to political poetics- this album is waaaay more than just a Fela photocopy (no disrespect). Some of you may have heard the Osunlade remix of this tune on the Yoruba Soul Sessions album, but don’t think for a minute that this track is the only gem on here. Solid and diverse throughout, Black Orpheus is one of my absolute favorite albums I’ve discovered all year. Help support this man, good music, and your own aural health by picking up a copy.

Ikwunga was unknown to me until the A.S.A.P. compilation, but since then “Di Bombs” has been in my heavy rotation. Sycopated, political, verse abstraction with a a classic groove from Dele Sosimi, who worked with Fela as a member of Egypt 80. Check out the entire Calabash album here.

Last tidbit: I got The Gumbo Funk E.P. into Ameoba music (both L.A. and S.F. locations). So If you’re on the Left Coast and are paranoid of ordering CDs online or are just too lazy to start a paypal account, you can now go and hunt down the goods at a couple of my all-time favorite music stores.

Seu Jorge : Chatterton
taken from the album “CRU” on Wrasse (2004)

Seu Jorge : Chega No Suingue
taken from the album “Carolina” on Mr. Bongo (2002)

Back from Cali, head woozy already. Pleased to be able, finally, to present you folks with raw illness from the Favela bred, smooth-crooner-poster-boy himself: Mr. Seu Jorge. This guy blew up big time with his starring role in the painfully good film City of God, then helped us to feel at home at Sea in The Life Aquatic. These two records stand out boldly and bemoan all haters of the next-world musical order. So listen here, but don’t sleep.

Now returning to NYC, these thoroughly gorgeous albums have been added to my Crate at last! Starting you off with a Serge Gainsbourg cover from Seu’s most recent project- a more mellow and stripped sound for him (the title “CRU” means “raw” afterall). Chega, from his earlier album on the ever-tasty Mr. Bongo label, is not nearly as danceable as most of the other tracks on the album, but it grooves hard nonetheless and also features a nice bit of work from a synthesizer that sounds quite similar to the one I just picked up at a flea market in L.A. I’m having lot’s of fun right now making retro, portamento-soaked funk licks in my spare time, as I’m sure you can imagine. Produced entirely by groove meistro Mario Caldato (of Beastie Boys fame), “Carolina” is an essential party album for all you Gumbo Funkers out there- samba/funk/hiphop/soul/reggae and all the other things we love around here. Big ups to the recently junglefied DJ Rapsody for the hook-up.

While chillin’ out here on the left coast, I finally managed to get a guest post from lil’ bro, a.k.a. Murphy’s Law- soon to be a regular Crate contributor!

Bobby Rush : Chicken Heads
taken from the 7″ on Galaxy (1971)

Dennis Landry : Miss Hard To Get
taken from the 7″ on Soul Unlimited (1972)

Midnight in the City of Angels.Throwing up a quick tag-team post before heading out to check local beat Maestro Garth Trinidad (the man behind Chocolate City on KCRW) on the 1’s and 2’s. The Hermanos Bethel are reunited under the auspices of a pair of gritty, early 70’s funk 45’s from the baby brother’s stash. No time for lengthy explanations at the moment; the tunes should speak for themselves. Bobby and Dennis droppin’ science!