... tonight with Margie Evans and Delmar Evans (I put the second name twice because they're not related, really, except musicallywise).
They were simply billed as »Delmar and Margie« on Johnny Otis's 1970 Epic LP Cuttin' Up and they feature on Side 2 with two remarkable duets, one funky and close to the pulse of the beginning '70s, the other a remake of a tune from 1950. And guess what? They outdid themselves with the one and the other. Maybe this was the secret of Johnny Otis, arguably the most important single r&b producer and impresario of all times, that he was able to reassemble his »Johnny Otis Show« in the late '60s (with new personnel) and still hit the nerve of the time after he had been around on the r&b scene since the mid-'40s. No little achievement, indeed.
The first important result of his new Show was the Epic LP which came out in August 1970, just after the Johnny Otis Show had played the Monterey Jazz Festival. Delmar Evans and Margie Evans had been picked up by Otis to be part of his ensemble two years before, and while both can be heard as solo vocalists on various recordings (for Delmar, see also here), the Cuttin' Up LP has the two also duetting. Just some word on Margie Evans: She was born Marjorie Ann Johnson in 1940 and was basically discovered by Otis, as it were. She started singing backing vocals in the late '50s, but was then brought out as a solo voice by Otis; she then recorded from the 1970s through the 1990s and became mainly known among blues aficionados.
The two duets by Margie and Delmar are killer tunes. As said before, one is on the funky side, the other (»Double Crossing Blues«) classic r&b in a modern (and highly satisfying) garb. But both are equally compelling. Let's get to it!
Delmar and Margie: »Don't Stretch This Good Thing Too Far« /»Double Crossing Blues« from the Epic LP # 26524 (1970):
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You may also listen to the original version of »Double Crossing Blues«, first released in 1950 (feat. the Johnny Otis Quintette with The Robins and Little Esther [Phillips] on Savoy # 731):
Born today in Chicago, Ill., 67 years ago ... No need to present her, I guess!
Gospel singer with the Meditation Singers, then under contract at Chess, she first charted with »Dirty Man« in 1967. Her biggest success came while recording for Hot Wax in 1971-72.
By 1972, she had two albums out for Hot Wax, including Women's Love Rights. In the autumn of '72, Chess sensed that it would be a good idea to cash in on Laura's ever-growing popularity. So they released the Love More Than Pride LP (Chess LP # 50031) in October, which actually contains songs recorded back in 1968. Some few songs on this album were produced and arranged by Gene Barge (from the Chess staff) and recorded in Chicago. Most were produced by Rick Hall and recorded at the Fame Studios, Muscle Shoals, including the two tracks you can hear below. On the back cover of Chess LP # 50031, however, only the Ter Mar Studios of Chicago are explicitly credited.
Thanks so much for all the great songs, Laura! Here are two of my favorites (out of many) ... funky tunes and a Southern groove for a Friday night ... from the Chess LP # 50031 ...
Laura Lee: »It Ain't What You Do« / »It's How You Make It Good« (LP rel. 1972, rec. in 1968):
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P.S. Listen here to Laura Lee talking about her career.
Dear friends of this blog, I've been ill for a week or so and am right now about to recover. Of course these things happen to you when you least need them, e.g. in the week between Xmas and New Year's Eve. Did some cursin'.
Motown (CAN) LP # M 832V1 (1975)
Luckily I pulled myself together just in time to prepare this year's last blog post. Since some time now I've had in mind that the 31st of December needs something funky, and not just funky but F-U-N-K-Y ! And here one of JB's funky divas enters the stage: Yvonne Fair. in 1974, she recorded a handful of gritty funk tunes every one of which is a true ear bone shatterer. By 1974, Yvonne had been in the business since a long time. From 1963 onwards she was part of the James Brown Revue, and in 1965 she gave birth to JB's daughter Venisha. In the later '60s, Chuck Jackson brought her to Motown, but her first (and only) album only appeared in late spring 1975. Before that she regularly performed as an opening act for the likes of Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye until in June '74 her first solo single (on the Motown label) hit the Soul charts. That first made her name known to a larger public and she was now noticed by JET: ... a honey peach of a girl ... she may look like an overnight hit, but she has been working and waiting for this break more than 10 years (August 1 issue, p. 60).
In '74 and early '75, Motown released three 45s of Yvonne Fair, and all the sides are included in her LP. These are actually the funky tunes on this album, while most others are in the ballad- ish vein (»It Should Have Been Me«); there's also a nice version of »I Know (You Don't Love Me No More)«. The aggressively sexist (yet intended anti-sexist) bitch concept of her fabulous album stands in a row of similar LPs of black female r&b singers in the post-Pam Grier era, culminating in Denise LaSalle's infamous The Bitch Is Bad album in 1977.
So let's move on to Yvonne's funky sides, one or two more than usual in this blog. But that's fine for today. The tracks are ripped from the LP but they were originally released on her three (and only) Motown 45s. Real killer-tunes! The latter two are probably well-known to most of you, the first two maybe not so. Happy New Year Y'all!
Yvonne Fair: »Love Ain't No Toy« / »Walk Out The Door If You Wanna« from the LP The Bitch Is Black (1975):
»Let Your Hair Down« / »Funky Music Sho Nuff Turns Me On« from the LP The Bitch Is Black (1975):
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In case your head is clear tomorrow and you'd like to read more about Yvonne Fair, you can go here (in Italian) and here (in French).
Come on, let's hype the Staples for another day! (Not that they needed it, though) Just a funky message song for today, considering our lousy times and all. This comes from their best Stax LP (that's what I think, anyway), released in March 1971. Those among you who find the machine-gunned intro somewhat silly or down- right cruddy, wait for the song to take off! After all, it's Mavis administering the ear drops to you here. And that says something.
The Staple Singers: »This Is A Perfect World« from the Stax LP # STS-2034 (1971):
Camille Doughty (Banner), from Columbus, Ohio, has been singing from the age of ten, i.e. from the mid-Fifties. She grew up in the Baptist tradition and, at the age of fourteen, joined the »Inspirational Choir« of her uncle Rev. Shellie R. Doughty's Mt. Hermon Baptist Church. Not before 1972 she started performing as a soloist. She's still active.
In 1978, her Gospel Roots LP »God's Prescriptions« was released: eight songs, four of them credited to »C.D. Banner«; the LP was produced by Ira Tucker (leading member of the Dixie Hummingbirds). Camille's voice is great but, sadly, the song material on the LP isn't quite. As for the band, I miss some creativity in the musi- cians' performance, and the arrangements are conventional throughout. To my liking there's but one track that stands out, namely her (moderately) funky version of the old staple »Elijah Rock« (most modern arrangements of this traditional are credited to Jester Hairston ... on Camille's LP he is credited as »T. Hairston« [?]). Mahalia Jackson made the song famous, many others recorded it (Albertina Walker et al.) and today you'll hear it mainly a cappella or performed by a mass choir. I haven't heard another version funkier than Camille's, listen to it below. Happy Sunday all!
Camille Doughty: »Elijah Rock« from the Gospel Roots LP # 5032 (1978):
Recently, in another blog (here: Catch That Train And Testify!), the question of the mutual influence and the relations between country and soul was touched upon. This finally made me spin Maxine Weldon's first album today, after I have been thinking for weeks now to post something about her. Maxine Weldon is a singers' singer, no doubt. She could sing it all, and she did. First problem though, this made her difficult to handle for the music industry when the pro- motion & sales responsibles wouldn't know whether to put her into the soul, jazz, blues or still another field. Second problem, she didn't record much. Most of her career she was busy gigging and touring, starting 1967 in California. Before that she had been performing in Hawaii for some 2 years, then moved to Japan and Seoul. But only when she came back to California, her career began in earnest. You can read a detailed account of her life and career here. I cannot add anything to what you find there.
Mainstream LP # MRL 319 Right On was her first album. 1970 is commonly given as its release date, but for all I know it was only released in 1971; the recording sessions, however, took place in '70. Maxine's debut album is little-known today, although there seem to be no valid reasons for this: apart from Maxine's stellar performance you will note that the tunes are wonderfully arranged and lavishly orchestrated; special praise certainly merits the horn section. Even the Billboard critic was looking for superlatives when he wrote the following (July 3, 1971): There is a fresh feeling here. One which is seldom heard from a female vocalist. No Aretha, No Nina Simone. All Maxine Weldon and a voracity and attack of a fresh new singing sensation.
Mainstream LP 319 back cover
So what about soul and country? Well, listening to Maxine's debut LP you'll find that a number of songs are much in the country vein, with some folksy undertones. And it's less in the instrumentation or the arrangements, more in the choice of songs (that is, in the harmonies) and the inflection of Maxine's voice. Other songs, however, are clearly in the r&b mould, with funky undertones. So I posted two songs each below that to me seem typical for both trends. The interesting thing is that the tunes are arranged similarly in regard to orchestra- tion - and of course the vocalist is the same -, but the overall effect of the respect- ive tunes is quite different. This is some sign showing the genius of the arranger! (For the record, it was Artie Butler's creative work).
Interesting also that Maxine Weldon didn't live in the South. She was born in Oklahoma but at an early age moved with her family to Califor- nia; and she even spent most of the '60s outside the States. Thus hers is not the bio- graphy of, say, Denise LaSalle who was reared on C&W radio in Mississippi or that of many others growing up around Memphis, Nashville, Macon or New Orleans. But, and this is the marvel of it, you cannot hear that on her debut album. I first put the tunes that are on the countryish-folksy side: Bob Dylan's »It Ain't Me Babe« and »Tomorrow On My Mind«. And we also have the near-country-version of Loretta Lynn's »Johnny One Time« on this LP which I didn't include below. Then, there are the r&b viz. soul tunes, »Right On« and Joe Cocker's 1969 »Feeling All Right«:
Maxine Weldon: »It Ain't Me Babe« / »Tomorrow On My Mind« from the Mainstream LP # MRL 319 (1971):
This is, for the time being, the next to last post featuring the Meditation Singers. You can hear them today and, God willing, next Wednesday. But not to worry: I kept one of the highlights of my little series for the great finale. You're in for a rare Funk Gospel treat!
Remember Ralph Bass? The producer and A&R director at Chess who, among much else, supervised the Meditation Singers' Checker LP # 10044 (The Bad Apple) (see the previous posts:
here and here). Well, he said the following in a Billboard interview (Oct. 12, 1968, p. 88): »The message of 'gos-pop' is that there is more to gospel than just finding solace in the church. This follows the same message of Martin [Luther] King, who was fighting for a new way of life.« He was putting that credo into practice at Chess, not the least with the Meditation Singers. But their way did not end at Chess. In autumn 1971, the Meditation Singers moved on to Stan Lewis's Jewel/Paula Records (Shreveport, La.). On Jewel, they had two albums out, the second of which already featured in this blog (here). However, the true gem of their Jewel output is their first album entitled Change Is Gonna Come (Jewel # LPS 0048). It was released in October '71, some forty years ago to this day.
Jewel # LPS 0048 (1971)
While with Jewel, the Meditations went beyond what they had recorded for Chess, and that is saying something. Their sound became still grittier and funkier. Clearly, they went with the times and from »gos-pop« to funk gospel. »Times has brought about a change, y'all«: The line above, apt title of today's post, is from a song on the Meditation Singers' first Jewel LP, »Trouble's Brewin'«. Together with several memorable recordings by the Loving Sisters from Arkansas, the first Jewel LP by the Medi- tation Singers is just about nothing short of the very definition of funk-gospel. As it is, they were helped in achieving that by the famous Detroit-based r&b producer, arranger, composer and, well, singer Andre »Mr. Rhythm« Williams. (There is much to know about Andre Williams, but best read his 2001 interview first.)
Williams penned all but one song of the Medita- tion Singers' first Jewel LP and produced the album as well. As for the Medita- tions themselves, we have to go with the photo from the cover: seated in the center is Earnestine Rundless, behind her to the left is Marie Waters; at the right margin we see Patricia Lyles. One of the other two singers should be Donna Hammonds, though I'm not sure which. The second is unknown to me. There's a high soprano lead voice in some songs that sounds very young; maybe it's her (and, I'd say, the second from right on the photo?). According to the information on the back cover, the songs were recorded at United Sound Studios, Detroit. Strange thing is that on the back cover we also find a highly emotional text written in the first person but signed »The Me- ditation Singers«. Can't make much sense of that!
Whatever. Let's get down with it! This superb LP contains so many songs worth hearing that I post only part of them today; the others will follow. First, there are two utterly funky pieces to start with: »Trouble's Brewin'« and »Good Old Gospel Music«. They'll sweep you off your feet right away. In addition, they're graced with significant lyrics that dwell on social and political issues. But in the end, it all comes down to the groove: I wonder, do you feel it?
I wanna ask you one more time: Do you feel it? Oh yeah. The more you saying it: Do you feel it? Oh y'all. I wonder, do you feel it?
The Meditation Singers: »Trouble's Brewin'« / »Good Old Gospel Music« from the Jewel LP # 0048 (1971):
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It's not all about heavy gospel funk on this album, however. We also have the title track, Sam Cooke's »A Change Is Gonna Come«. And I'm sure you'll agree with me that it's one of the best versions of this song ever recorded. The arrangement is complex and innovative, and there are several lead voices woven in. Jewel sensed the beauty and sales potential of that version and released it on the subsidiary Paula # 356. They were right about the beauty. Happy Sunday all!
The Meditation Singers: »A Change Is Gonna Come« from the Jewel LP # 0048 (1971):
Saturday Funk comin' up. Once again from GWP. Two songs, one true gritty sister funk, the other more »poppy and bobby« but still »catchy« (as Ady Croasdell put it).
What you see is the cover of GWP's first volume of Soul, Black & Beautiful, released in 1971 (GWP LP # ST 2037). I posted some stuff from the second volume a short while ago (see here), and in another post you could hear Betty Barney. Twice I already mentioned her monster funk tune »Momma, Momma«. So I thought it past time to post it here. »Momma, Momma« (together with »You Want My Lovin'«) was Betty's only release for GWP, recorded in NYC in April 1969. It then found its way on this LP. I presume most of you know the song. You should, anyhow, and those unfortunate who haven't heard the song before be prepared: from the first chicken-scratchy guitar licks this songs tears down a wall and Betty hollers her heart out.
Betty Barney: »Momma, Momma« from the GWP LP # ST-2037 (1971):
The second song, Debbie Taylor's »Stop«, comes from the second volume. Recorded in 1970, it was her last release for GWP (originally on GWP's Grapevine # 202), uptempo and eminently danceable. Ady Croasdell in his notes to Ace/Kent CD # 326 said that the tune »probably under-utilises Debbie's husky vocals.« I think he is right in that and Debbie could do better. And she would soon after, on Today. You'll hear that soon. And there'll be more about Debbie. For tonight, we gotta STOP!
Debbie Taylor: »Stop« from the GWP LP # ST-2041 (1971):
... days are passing by me right now, with me barely noticing. Got so many things on my mind and more to do. I'm also movin' around fairly much and it's no fun, really. So best I can do today is posting two more songs from the 1971 GWP LP »Soul, Black & Beautiful, Vol. II«. You could already hear two instrumentals from this album on this blog, both by the Pazant Bro- thers. Now, today's songs belong to two funk sistas, Little Rose Little and Betty Barney; Betty recorded most of her stuff (and perform- ed in NYC together) with the Pazant Brothers, notably »Momma, Momma«.
Little Rose Little's tune »Family Tree« is much loved by rare-&-early-funk aficiona- dos. And, yes, I agree, it could have been a nice song, and Little Rose certainly had the voice for it. Unfortunately, the bass line in the song is completely fucked up, the piano doesn't fare much better and it's about one of the worst funk recordings I know of. Sorry to say this. Feel free to think otherwise. You can also listen to the song on Ace # CDBGPD 170. The second song is Betty Barney's »You Want My Lovin'«, first released in 1969 on GWP # 502, then on the 1971 LP. It's been included on another Ace/Kent CD, CDKEND 249. Well, it's a nice song, just so you know.
Little Rose Little: »Family Tree« / Betty Barney: »You Want My Lovin'« from the GWP LP # ST 2041 (1971):
Tonight goin' on down with the New York Pazant Brothers ... and two hot funky instrumentals. The way I knew them first was via GWP's 1971 compil- ation Soul, Black And Beautiful Volume 2 (GWP LP # ST 2041). The LP was released towards the end of '71 and was, together with »Volume 1«, the last output by GWP before the label folded (some time in '72, I am not sure about the later developments at GWP ... needs some further research). In any case it's one of the more important compilations of late '60s/early '70s soul & funk.
The album was produced by Ed Bland, a composer, arranger and A&R man of the GWP New York-based label (masterminded by Gerald »Jerry« W. Purcell). See them both on the photo below. Bland wrote a lot of songs for the Pazant Brothers, Eddie (sax) and Al (trumpet), including the two instrumentals you can hear below. The LP is considered a rare item, and this may be so. What is certain is that most of the (few) late '60s and early '70s recordings by the Pazant Brothers were known only to a chosen few before Ace Records / BGP issued the stuff on CD.
From BILLBOARD, April 26, 1969, page 8
Both instrumentals, »A Gritty Nitty« and »Chicken Scratch«, were actually recorded (and released on GWP singles) in 1969. And don't be fooled if on the back cover of GWP LP 2041 they are billed as »The Pazant Brothers« for one song and as »The Chili Peppers« for the other; both are identical (for the late-born: and of course not related to their »Red Hot« namesakes). Both tunes have since long been favorites in funk circles, and justly so. And forgive me the nerdy footnote that I've always wond- ered why the story of GWP and the Pazant Brothers in particular didn't make it in the otherwise instructive study Funk. The Music, The People, and The Rhythm of The One by Rickey Vincent (New York 1995).
»A Gritty Nitty« is as forceful a funk instrum- ental as you could ever imagine. Much more famous, however, is »Chicken Scratch«, and there's a reason for it: The tune was first released as the B-side of GWP single # 502 (much sought-after and insanely rare, it fetches many hundred dollars if on the market). The A-side features Betty Barney (with the Pazant Brothers aka Chili Peppers) and her monster sister funk song »Momma Momma«. Now, »Chicken Scratch« is the instrumental version of Betty's »Momma Momma«, and although the version feat. Betty can't be easily topped the instrumental version is just as hot. If it don't make you move nothing will.
The Pazant Brothers / »The Chili Peppers«:
»A Gritty Nitty« / »Chicken Scratch« from the GWP LP # ST 2041 (1971):
You see, I live in a flat on the second floor. Below a couple, both in their late twenties. You wouldn't guess that they're engraving tombstones for a living, but that's what they're actually doing. They've got a dog, and a big one at that. I try to stay clear of him (or her, who knows?). But even though I meet them once in a while, I try to stay clear of the couple as well. Thing is, their relation is of the neurotic kind. Rarely a day that they don't shout at each other; plates are flying high and doors get slammed with a bang. It happens during the day and more often at night, normally quite late in the wee hours. Just yesterday I noted that the stone head of an ancient diety which was posed on a marble column in the staircase is missing. Probably it went against some wall. To tell the truth, living with such a couple downstairs makes me somewhat uneasy at times. But then, they're getting along all right. I meet them in the morning, and she smiles at me while walking the dog. As if nothing had happened. And they still engrave the tombstones of others and possibly will live a hundred years. They seem reality challenged, but reality is kind to them.
Whatcha gonna do? Putting up with noisy neighbors by listening to a nice piece of joyful, in-house-party funk from 1971. The song has been around in the net for a while (see here, for example), and on Soulgeneration we find it nicely described: »... a little bit of New York boogaloo, a little bit of funky groove and a whole heap hipshakin' goes into this late night rowdy houseshaker. A first class call and res- ponse between some poor chap trying to get some sleep after a hard days slog and Ruby an unsympathetic party queen who parties as hard as she works and aint never gonna relent. Ruby is the neighbour from hell but damn funky assed in her style.« Yep, I agree. Maybe I'd better start a party when below the plates are takin' off. On the other hand, they might start tossin' my records at the wall. No use taking that risk.
Just to add some details: I am at a loss who exactly Ruby & The Party Gang are. The record was produced by Bobby Martin and John Mobley, affiliated to the Philly Sound. The song »Hey Ruby (Shut Your Mouth)« is often described as an instrum- ental, and in some ways it is. Interestingly, the B-side, »Ruby's House Party«, continues the funky jamming of the A-side and is much more of an instrumental, with the sax played by Alto Zack being the prominent feature (you can also hear him on the A-side). There is one other 45'' by Ruby & The Party Gang: »Ruby's Surprise Party / Too Much Pride« on Gamble # 2505.
Ruby & The Party Gang: »Hey Ruby (Shut Your Mouth)« on Law-Ton # 1554A (1971):
Some weeks ago I posted something concerning the album »Think! (About It)« (People # 5602) by Lyn Collins ... well, I thought today we might just return to it for a second visit.
I'd like to present the two songs »Wheels Of Life« and »Just Won't Do Right«.The first is a midtempo-handclapper, driven forward by the bassline, the brass section, some dark jungleish drum and the piano. A classic r&b song, rather »southern« in feel and »Memphisian« in orchestration, with few signs of James Brown having had his hands in it. But that's just what I like about the song, for a change! ... The second song is a soul-ballad, and towards the end, and possibly in the first part as well, you can hear JB contributing (after all, he played piano on this recording and wrote the song). »Wheels Of Life« was recorded Jan. 26, 1971, at the Rodel Studios in Washington, D.C., »Just Won't Do Right« was put on tape in 1971 (maybe on February 15) at the Bobby Smith Studios in Macon, Georgia. James Brown himself during the 70s recorded several songs in this Macon studio, among them »Talkin' Loud And Sayin' Nothing« (1970).
People LP »Think« (1972), backcover
Interestingly, both songs were the very first recordings which Lyn Collins made on the instigation of JB. They were released as a single, first on King # 6373 (1971), then on People # 45-2503 (1972, with a possible promo-version from the year before). Both songs were included on her first album »Think! (About It)«, and it's these versions which you can hear in the following.
Lyn Collins: »Wheels Of Life« / »Just Won't Do Right« from the People LP # 5602 (1972):
Fred Leroy Robinson was born in 1939 in Memphis and grew up in Arkansas. From 1956 onwards, he was living in Chicago. He played for some years as member of Little Walter's band, then he gigged with Howlin' Wolf. The latter, however, didn't get along too well with Freddie (or the other way round) because Freddie had taken up studying at the »Chicago School of Music«. Freddie was to say later: »I worked with Wolf very briefly, because he's the only guy ... that I couldn't get along with too well. ... He didn't realise that I really did love his music ... He thought that just because I was studying that I didn't want to play the blues.«
Enterprise LP # 1035
From 1963 to 1967 Freddie was playing behind Vee-Jay recording star Jerry Butler, and in 1968 he briefly worked in the band of Ray Charles. Then, in 1971, we find him as a member of John Mayall's Blues Band (see the BILLBOARD ad from June 10, 1972 where he is billed as »Freddy Robinson«). In 1972 he recorded his first album for Enterprise (a sub-label of Stax Records), »At The Drive-In« (# 1025) (see the ad in JET-magazine as of Sept. 21, 1972). In the following year his second Enterprise-album, entitled »Off The Cuff« (Enterprise LP # 1035), hit the market. Finally, Freddie converted to Islam in 1975 and took on the name Abu Talib three years later. I gathered most of this information from the liner notes of ACE CD # CDCHD 728 (»Freddy Robinson: Bluesology«, 1999). This CD also includes some of the songs from his 1972 Enterprise-album. However, the two songs you can hear in the following have been ripped directly from his album »Off The Cuff«.
The first song, »You Never Ever Miss Away (!)«, is downright funky, the second, »Changing Dreams«, may best be described as an after-hours-blues in the best Chicago-Tradition. You can hear several female background voices on the first tune, among them the voice of Darlene Love (former member of The Blossoms and The Crystals, but recording under her own name as well during the 60s).
Freddie Robinson (feat. Darlene Love):
»You Never Ever Miss Away« / »Changing Dreams« from the Enterprise LP »Off The Cuff« (1973):
In the movie »Bright Eyes« from 1934 we are entertained by child star Shirley Temple, six years old at the time. She delivers a nursery rhyme which soon was to become hugely popular ... to become in fact »one of the most famous of all kiddie songs« (Roy Hemming: The Melody Lingers On. The Great Songwriters and Their Movie Musicals, New York 1999, p. 309). On the face of it, this does not seem pretty astonishing. But wait and see.
The song of little Shirley Temple is entitled »On The Good Ship Lollipop«, perfectly normal for a kiddie song and nothing to wonder about. Shirley performs this song in the movie in a scene that is set in an airplane. Therefore, the »ship« of the song seems to refer to an airplane, even though this is, from a linguistic point of view, far from obvious. As far as I can say, the word »airship« does exist in English, but it denotes either a rigid air craft of the »zeppelin« type or a balloon, that is any lighter-than-air self-propelled craft. Which excludes airplanes in the proper sense. However, the movie scene clearly is set in an airplane, and Shirley even runs along the aisle with her arms spread and flapping them up and down, imitating an airplane. Still less unmistakable is the beginning of the song which runs:
I've thrown away my toys, even my drum and train.
I want to make some noise with real live aeroplanes.
Some day I'm going to fly, I'll be a pilot too.
And when I do, how would you like to be my crew?
So the »good ship« is an airplane. Children won't be unduly bothered. They accept folded paper as airplanes so why not a »lollipop ship«? The fantasy of a child will further be positively stimulated by the fact that this airship can land on a chocolate bar as the refrain of the song says: »Happy landing on a chocolate bar«.
This is all fine and well, as far as it goes. But let's go a bit farther! In the year 1968, the song was recorded again and then appeared in an unusual context. We find it, now transmuted into a groovy soul tune, on an album of the Mirettes. The Mirettes were actually the Ikettes. They were forced to change their name because Ike Turner had prohibited them from using their original name. This happened after they had left the Turner-Revue in September 1965 and started to perform on their own. The Mirettes (now ex-Ikettes) consisted, at his point, of Robbie Montgomery, Venetta Fields and Jessie Smith. Alline Bullock, Tina Turner's sister, said about the new career of the ex-Ikettes:
»These were the real Ikettes, but we found out they couldn't use the name, because Ike owned it. He had marshals to keep us from going onstage–subpoenas, restraining orders–on every trip. Then we tried "The Mariettes, formerly the Ikettes," but he didn't want that either. Finally we just dropped it.« (Tina Turner with Kurt Loder: I, Tina. My Life Story, New York 1986, p. 113)
Revue LP # 7205 (1968)
On their LP In The Midnight Hour« (Revue LP # 7205), released in 1968, the Mirettes present the old kiddie song »On The Good Ship Lollipop« in a new vest: funky. And hearing this funky song, we suddenly, and almost unwillingly, perceive the deeper level of its funky lyrics ... the song had brought a fortune to songwriter Sidney Clare, and after listening to the Mirettes' version of it I started to wonder what Clare had in mind when he penned the lyrics. Well, simply start with listening to the version of the Mirettes and pay attention to the lyrics. (The lyrics are abbreviated compared with Shirley Temple's version and begin right with the refrain):
The Mirettes: »On The Good Ship Lollipop« from the Revue LP »In The Midnight Hour« (1968):
On the good ship Lollipop, it's a sweet trip to the candy shop Where the bonbons play on the sunny shores of Peppermint Bay
Lemonade stands everywhere, crackerjack bands fill the air And there you are: Happy landing on a chocolate bar!
See the sugar bowl do the Tootsie Roll with the big bad devil's smooth cake If you eat too much, hooh, hooh - You'll awake with a tummyache!
On the good ship Lollipop, it's a nice trip into the value hop And there you are: Happy landing on a chocolate bar!
And there you are: Happy landing on a chocolate bar And there you are: Happy landing on a chocolate bar ...
What do you think? I can tell you what I think: Quite obviously, the song is filled to the brim with more or less unequivocal sexual metaphors that go far beyond any simple »innuendo«: we have the »candy shop« (!), the »sunny shores of Peppermint Bay« (!) and not to mention the »lemonade stands«! But the best is yet to come: The highlight of any 18+ reading of this song's lyrics will have to concentrate on the following passage: »see the sugar bowl do the tootsie roll«! Among music buffs, it would here need an gargantuan effort not to think of Bessie Smith's salacious blues »I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl« which, of course, was always meant as a sexual metaphor (and understood to be so by all singers who performed the song: Nina Simone, Rheta Hughes etc.). Indeed, once you are on the right track, it needs little fantasy to guess what a tootsie roll« has to do in a »sugar bowl« ... 'Nuff said, I presume you got the point, obvious as it is.
We may ask: Did the Mirettes know what they were recording? Well, I think they pretty much did, or rather, the ambiguous salaciousness of this seemingly innocent kiddie song is the very explanation of why we find that song on their album. In any case, I find it difficult to hear or »read« that song »innocently« once I heard it performed by the Mirettes. But we don't need the Mirettes for that, really. The song's lyrics, if only they are »read« in the proper perspective, do invite the less-than-innocent interpretation. Back in 1961, Allen Ginsberg already had had this intuition when he went about to compose his own lyrics for our kiddie song, to sing, as he writes explicitly, »after the melody of On The Good Ship Lollipop«:
On the good ship Lollipop, won't you come and suck my cock? Wontcha gobble it please? I'll be glad to give you alla my cheese.
On the good ship Lollipop, you can f**k me with a mop, You can lick my ass on the poopdeck or on top of the mast.
(quoted from Allen Ginsberg: Early Fifties. Early Sixties. Journals, ed. Gordon Ball, New York 1977, p. 279 f.)
Yes, it sounds crude. It is crude. I personally don't like it: Ginsberg's hardcore rhyme is so pathetically direct and does so emphatically negate the charms of subtility and ambiguity. And it is so very typical of the '60s beat-generation: They thought a message will be heard only if it's couched in crude and unequivocal terms ... which eventually led them to gross vulgarity and nothing else. You can see that in the pitiful writings of Ginsberg, Lennon and all the others. R.I.P.
The Mirettes, on the other hand, made Ginsberg's point by sticking to the original lyrics, and thus they made the much stronger point. And the general public, by the end of the 1960s, had already got the point ...
The term »Come on the good ship... Lollipop« was used, with clear sexual innuendo, in Bernardo Berto- lucci's erotic movie Last Tango in Paris (1972). Moreover, if you start to google the term you will quickly realize that it is used as a chiffre for sex in a wide range of contexts. On the other hand, »on the good ship Lollipop« also denotes something like »on the sunny side of life«, not surprisingly often used in respect to childhood. In this vein, the actress Joan Crawford is quoted by Annette Tapert with the following words: »"Not one good moment on the Good Ship Lollipop" is how Crawford described her childhood. "Boardinghouses, hash joints, and dime stores"« (The Power of Glamour: The Women Who Defined the Magic of Stardom, New York 1998 p. 42).
Notwithstanding its deeper levels of ambiguity, the song »On The Good Ship Lollipop« has been able to preserve its superficial innocence until today. It is still perceived, in a bourgeois and more often than not middle-class context, as a »kiddie song« which is just the right tune for a happy birthday party. The children will be provided with funny lollipops while they sing along. Even serious academic literature dealing with the curriculum of nursery schools and the like does list the song as a good example of how to teach children to learn playfully about ... ships, of all things:
»Boat Songs: Have students sing songs such as "Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore"; "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean"; Row Row Row Your Boat"; "Sailing Sailing"; and "On the Good Ship Lollipop" (...). Afterward, have students discuss their experiences on boats.« (quoted from Multidisciplinary Units for Prekindergarten Through Grade 2 der International Society for Technology in Education, 2003).
Let's hope they never find out the song does not deal with a ship. Not to mention all the rest ...!
On the cover of United Artists LP # UAS-5598 »Feel Good« we read »Ike & Tina«. Actually, this is beside the truth. This album is, in fact, only »Tina«. Ike is quoted as producer and engineer, and the songs were recorded in »his« Bolic Sound Studio in Inglewood, Calif. in March 1972. But all songs are credited to Tina, except one Lennon-McCartney-title. On the entire album, Tina does not perform a single tune by Ike. So it seems that this was the first effort of Tina's to get away from Ike, musically for the time being. In other respects she couldn't get away from him: Black Coffee is her name. At the same time, in 1972, Ike more and more lost himself to his cocaine addiction and got his kicks, bodilywise, with white hippie girls. Tina knew it, of course, the girls often went in and out of her home. And there were quite a few persons at the time who actually viewed the self-destruction of the egomaniacal brute Ike and his escapades as a hip, never-ending party.
At first, Tina was enthusiastic about the new Bolic Studio that Ike had installed: »I always really wished that Ike could get what he wanted – a string of hit records. Because when he did, I was going to leave him. ... So when he built that studio, I thought: "Wonderful - I'll be rid of him!"« (Tina Turner with Kurt Loder: I, Tina. My Life Story, New York 1986, p. 166). But, alas, this soon appeared to be an illusion: Ike produced no hits, but went on working frenetically in his studio ... and this was to become a pain in Tina's ass: »Then the phone calls started – three o'clock in the morning: "Tina, Ike wants you." And I'd have to get up and drive down there and sing, or sometimes just bring them food. That's when I started drinking coffee, to stay awake.« (My Life Story, p. 166).
How much of Tina's life is in »Black Coffee«? A whole lot, I think, and not only because she was called to the studio in the middle of the night and pumped herself up with caffeine. »Now I'm independent and nobody's maid« seems at first sight to refer to her life-story, Tina being an Afro-American Cherokee from Tennessee: »I started out as a slave, I got free ...« we hear Tina sing. But in hindsight it is easy to see also a reference to Tina's situation in 1972 in those lines: »Now I'm independent« may therefore as well express her firm intention to get away from Ike, physically and psychologically. Again in hindsight, it proved to be wishful thinking.
But there may be more autobiographical references in this song: »my mind is black«, »a cup of black coffee is what a working man wanna see«? Black Coffee »with not a thing«, no sugar, no milk, black coffee that you can buy for a dime. Is this, after all, Tina herself, who didn't get nothing from Ike and had learned not to expect anything from him? Hadn't Ike bought her for a dime, while she had to come begging for every dollar she liked to spend? In this view, also »America, the land of the free«, as the songs says, might be little more than autobiographical sarcasm ... And what about the »Black Tea« which doesn't compare »with me«? Well yes, black it is, but tea still conjures up the idea of something insipid, pale, black by name but not by appear- ance. Could that refer to the white hippie girls who went after Ike (or the other way round)? And isn't Tina »the real thing«, the »Black Coffee« which is »what a workin' man wanna see«? Speculations. They come to mind somewhat easily. And we have to conclude: For all the rhetorics of liberation and freedom which we find in »Black Coffee« Tina wasn't free of Ike yet.
But the lyrics of this song have, quite apart from the possible autobiographical side, many other sides as well. It speaks of Black Power, of America as the land of milk and honey for all, of sexual energy. Last not least it also gives a cynical comment on the music bizness: »You can get what you want if you got some DoReMi«. Yet again, this might well be a double-sided message having also a personal tint, as Ike was fooling around with several of The Ikettes over the years, much to the chagrin of Tina! Without doubt the song alludes to all this and more besides, presenting itself to various kinds of »lectures«. Admittedly, the song itself, as a piece of music, is in danger to be buried among the significances of its messages. In fact, it is not even »a song« in the classical mode, rather a statement with musical coating. But that's not really the point here:
Tina Turner: »Black Coffee« from the LP »Feel Good« (1972)
Black Coffee is my name
Black Coffee with not a thing
Black Coffee freshly ground, fully packed
Hot Black Coffee is where it's at
Way back on yonder, I don't know when
I was brought over before I was ten
You see my skin is brown but my mind is black
But here Black Coffee is where it's at
Black Tea, black as can be
Black Tea can't compare with me
Black Tea is good as it can be
But a cup of Black Coffee is what a working man wanna see
Today six years ago, on March 15, the news-wires announced the death of Lyn Collins (real name Gloria LaVern Collins). She passed away on March 13, 2005, in Pasadena, aged 56. She had just returned from a tour in Europe, actually the first solo-tour of her entire career.
People LP # 5602 (Cover)
It is often said that the Texas-born singer made her first recording in 1964. However, about the spurious song she is said to have recorded - »Unlucky In Love« - there is next to no reliable information and I haven't come across it yet (but cf. Bob McGrath, The Soul Discography Vol. 1, West Vancouver 2010, p. 332. Other relevant discographies do not list the song at all.) Her actual career started when she was employed as backing vocalist by James Brown, in 1970. Brown got to know her because Lyn was married to a man who promoted the James Brown Revue around Texas. And Brown saw to it that in 1971 her first single hit the market: »Wheels Of Life / Just Won't Do Right« (King # 6373). Together with Vicki Anderson and Marva Whitney she was one of those female singers who were supported by Brown and eventually brought into a recording studio. (Lyn Collins later asked Marva Whitney to sing backing vocals on her 2006 CD »Mama Feelgood«.)
From JET-magazine, February 3, 1972
In 1971, Lyn Collins shared the stage with the »The Soul Twins« (see photo above) on 330 days (!) of the year as backing vocal-trio in the James Brown Stage Show. They had a solo-spot in the show – similar to The Ikettes in the Ike & Turner Revue –, and Sharryn Watts wrote in mid-January 1972 about a concert of the James Brown Stage Show she had attended in San Francisco:
»Third on the show after the J-B's were Lynn [!] Collins and the Soul Twins. The trio, though, practically unknown, is exceptionally good. ... Every song is superb, however it's on their last number ... that they really open up and leave the crowd screaming for more. This is one of the groups Mr. Brown is personally pushing and we should be hearing from them on their first album in the near future.« (quoted in N. George / A. Leeds [eds.]: The James Brown Reader, London 2008, p. 96)
In any case, Lyn Collins was not to remain »practically unknown« for long. She had several singles and two LPs out in 1972, on JB's People label. In addition, she can be heard on several Polydor-recordings of James Brown himself. The first song of her first album of the same title – »Think (About It)« from the People LP # PE-5602 – was to become her biggest hit ever. Her last recordings for People were made in 1975.
The song »Think (About It)« was often qualified »gospel-soul«. I am not sure if that's the right way to put it ... it could be said of the »preaching« intro, maybe, and you can hear Lyn Collins do a similar intro in a number of other songs, earning her the nick-name of »The Female Preacher« and frequently hoarse vocal cords during her performances. But the intro is just a part of the whole song, and the song in itself is pure heavy funk. However, the forceful message of the intro, belted out by Lyn, much reminds of Aretha Franklin's »Respect«, although Lyn's message is still more determined: Men, be warned! The women might just take into their own hands what they can do better by themselves anyway ... So, if there's no gospel here, we certainly get a stern lecture!
Following the intro, the song is as James-Brownish as anything you will ever hear. No surprise, though, because JB produced the LP and can be heard calling out occasionally in the background. And the song is a dead-sure footstomper and a neck twister if ever there was any: »from Collins' throat-ripping vocals to the track's nasty groove to Brown's background interjections, this is a killer« wrote Tim Sendra in the All Music Guide to Soul (San Francisco 2003, p. 155). The song was recorded on April 18, 1972, at the Cavern Studios in Independence, Missouri. Some overdubs were added later in the A&R Studions in New York. HITTIT!
Hey fellas: I'm talking to you, you and you too!
You guys know who I'm talking to?
Those of you who go out and stay out all night and half the next day
And expect us to be home when you get there
And let me tell you something:
The sisters are not going for THAT no more
'Cause we realize two things:
That you aren't doing anything for us we can do better for ourselves
So from now on, we gonna use what we got
To get what we want!
Soooooooo ... you'd better THINK !
Lyn Collins: »Think (About It)« from the People LP »Think« (1972)
I am interested in the music, not in the relative rarity of discs. I also listen with great pleasure to Aretha Franklin, because she has the voice of the century. Music is no Faith and therefore has no heretics.
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