Pump Up the Beat!

mid-week gospel

It is a truism, easily substantiated by numerous examples but beyond the need of proof, that gospel strongly influenced r&b, then soul. In that process, also many spiritual tunes were turned into »secular« songs and eventually lost every connection to their origin. It happened much more rarely, at least in the '60s, that the conversion went the other way round. One such instance is the Swanees's 1966 release on Federal #  12542.

The Swanee Quintet (whose members debuted on this blog some two weeks ago) were a staple of Nashboro records into the mid-1960s when they had lost, after 15 years with the label, much of their former appeal. However, they had a special fan in James Brown who knew the Quintet since his early days (actually from before he started his own career) in Augusta, Ga. Brown had once worked as a shoe shine boy outside the WGAC radio station in Augusta (where the Swanees had their afternoon radio programme). The shoe shine boy grew up listening to the Swanee Quintet and in his teenage years secularised the sound of Ruben Willingham and the Swanees ... (quoted from here). In 1966, therefore, JB once again became the producer, and the result was the Federal single # 12542. That the billing on the label doesn't say »Swa- nee Quintet« or the like but »Rev. Willingham and His Swanees« might preannounce the solo career of Ruben Willingham which started soon after.

The Swanees '66 single features a »gospelized« version of JB's former hit »Try Me« and kind of a rock-gospel sermon by Willingham underlaid with a heavy beat and possibly with the participation of the brass section of the JB Band, based on JB's »Ain't That A Groove«. »Try Me Father« is often referred to merely as a gospel version of Brown's 1958 hit »Try Me« which is a pretty unfair description. Over a sterling arrangement, Johnny Jones rarely swoops into his more customary falsetto (in my opinion, there are a lot of places in the song where it almost sounds like Wilson Pickett is leading the song) but instead captures the intensity of the lyrics. ... this is not just a doo-wop-styled ballad, but rather a serious soul meditation which ... is one of the strongest records they released during their prime (quoted from here). »Try Me Father« is an obvious variation on James Brown’s classic 1958 proto-soul »Try Me« ... But turnaround is fair play, because The Godfather of Soul ... owed much of his early stage histrionics from the sound and style of gospel music performance. ... A typical Swanee track it’s not; »Try Me Father« is much better: a quintessential case of gospel borrowing from soul borrowing from gospel (quoted from here).

And certainly, typical church tunes they're not; but wonderful examples of crossover, albeit in the more unusual direction. Quite ahead of their times, really. Listen here:

Rev. Willingham and His Swanees: »That's The Spirit« / »Try Me Father« on Federal # 12542 (1966):

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THINK !

In Memory of Lyn Collins (1948–2005)

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)

JET-magazine, July 27, 1972