I Walk the Tightrope

Busy, busy, ... with various things, some nice and entertaining, some others that aren't. However, I wouldn't have this weekend pass without some music to hum and swing along. And to make it easy for today, without many words: I just found the right stuff on the Musicor LP »A Quartet Of Soul« (1967) which was presented on this blog about ten days ago. I then proposed a sinister-sounding, truly unique and beautiful piece of trance-soul ... well, it wouldn't do for today.

From Billboard, March 4, 1967, p. 58

Today, the right sound comes from Inez & Charlie Foxx. They certainly don't need much of an introduction. They did much to popu- larize U.S. soul music in the UK (see the photo from their British tour, taken in Feb. '67), and have become favorites of the Northern Soul scene. Famously, »Mocking- bird« made their name immortal, even though I am prepared to make myself some enemies and to happily defend the claim that Aretha Franklin's version of that song is way better.
     On the Musicor LP »A Quartet Of Soul« we find three songs by Inez & Charlie Foxx, and two of them are actually identical with their first single release on Dynamo (# 102, rel. in March '67). The single didn't chart, but I can't think of two sides on one 45 that deserved it less. They're really infectious! Dig them here:

Inez & Charlie Foxx: »Tightrope« / »Baby Take It All« from the Musicor LP # MS3131 (1967):

Press Item of the Week

             From JET, Jan. 21, 1960, p. 43.

Fork Of The Road

* In December 1968, Brunswick released The Gospel Soul of Big Maybelle (Brunswick LP # 754142).

* Some weeks before, GRT (General Recorded Tapes, a Californian company active since 1966 and producing 4- and 8-track stereo cartridges) announced that it had now available Aretha Franklin's old Checker record The Gospel Soul of Aretha Franklin on 8-track. (GRT exploited Checker recordings since Jan.1, 1968, after an agreement had been reached: »General Recorded Tape has obtained exclusive duplicating rights to the catalogs of the Chess-Checker- Cadet und King libraries. ... The pacts strengthen GRT's broadening rhythm and blues catalog, which now encompasses material from Duke/Peacock ..., the Atlantic family of distributed labels, Scepter/Wand, Backbeat, Shout, and Sound Stage 7«, see Billboard Dec 30, 1967, p. 33).

* In 1969, Minit released The Soul of Gospel (Minit LP # S 24021 / 40021) by the Robert Patterson Singers (the LP had been actually recorded live in Frankfurt, Germany); later, problably in the early '70s, this was followed up with the LP Gospel Soul on Sunset, a German pressing this time (Sunset LP # 50305).

* In September 1969, Checker re-released Aretha Franklin's album Songs of Faith: The Gospel Soul of Aretha Franklin (orig. Checker # 10009 from 1965), and they did it again in May 1972. The latter re-release prompted this biting commentary in JET (May 18, 1972, p. 60): »When white-owned record com- panies compete, they really go for blood, like officials at Checker records releasing again their almost eight-year-old album, The Gospel Soul Of Aretha Franklin, with a new cover, just as officials at Atlantic records are getting ready to release Aretha's first gospel album in eight years.«

* In 1969, also Motown jumped on the Gospel Soul-train and released Shades of Gospel Soul (Motown LP # MS 701), today a rarely found LP containing 10 tracks by Detroit gospel singers.

* Not to miss this trend, Specialty put out two albums featuring old recordings by Sam Cooke & The Soul Stirrers under the title The Gospel Soul of Sam Cooke with the Soul Stirrers, the first volume in 1969 (Specialty LP # SPS- 2116), the second in November 1970 (Specialty SPS-2128).

And then we have, from around the same time, The Gospel Soul of Bessie Griffin (Savoy LP # MG-14233). Hers was still a great name in gospel music, and you could hear her last Sunday on this blog. Phyl(lis) Garland in her book The Sound of Soul (Chicago 1969) named Bessie Griffin, alongside Mahalia Jackson, Marion Williams, Clara Ward, Alex Bradford and James Cleveland, among the »leading interpreters« in the »gospel music of today« (p. 64).

Savoy LP # MG-14233

It's not exactly known when Bessie Griffin's Savoy-LP was released. Traditionally it is assigned to 1968, but there is one detail which points to the following year: The song »At The Fork Of The Road« (you can hear it below), written by Frank Williams and accredited to Planemar Music (via Herman Lubinsky tied to Savoy!), was filed for copyright on September 3, 1969. As this song is an original recording on this LP and was, as far as I can see, never recorded before by any singer, chances are that the copyright claim and the release of the LP happened at about the same time, thus in 1969. And some other songs of the LP, credited to Bessie Griffin through Lubinsky's Planemar Music Co., were likewise filed the same day. Anyhow, in 1969 the Gospel Soul-craze was at its peak, and Bessie Griffin's album fits neatly into that year.

On the back cover of the LP, we find »The Soul Sounds are on Savoy!« written in capitals. Well, seen from today's perspective this boastful claim hardly stood the test of time if you consider that this album has remained quite obscure to the present day (and is even listed under the wrong title, as Come Ye Disconsolate, on the otherwise useful pages at Jazzdisco.org). Tony Cummings, who called this album »unremarkable except as a great example of her voice« (here), added to the con- fusion by saying that Bessie Griffin recorded »an album with the Gospel Pearls entitled 'Gospel Soul' on Sunset, a subsidiary of Liberty.« There was a Liberty LP by Bessie Griffin (LRP 3310/7310), but it was called The Gospel Peals Starring Bessie Griffin and released back in July 1963. An album called Gospel Soul was put out on Sunset, but it featured the Patterson Singers and was released much later (see above). So far, I could therefore not corroborate what Cummings wrote about Bessie Griffin's presumed Sunset-album.

Since Bessie Griffin's album is somewhat shrouded in mystery and does not seem to be much known, I felt that the notes on the back cover might be of a certain general interest; you can read them on the photo to the left. The LP contains ten songs, and one of those, »Let Him In Your Heart Today«, is a duet of Bessie with her husband Spencer Jackson. Some songs are original recor- dings, others like »Blessed And Brought Up« or »It's Running Time«, are presented here in new versions but go back to the time when Bessie was touring with the Caravans in 1953/4: »Blessed And Brought Up« is actually the same song as »I've Been Blessed And Brought Up By The Lord«, recorded in Dec. '53 or Jan. '54 with the Caravans and released on States # 137 (and Gospel LP # 3008 He Won't Deny Me). And the LP also features »Come Ye Disconsolate«, for many a kind of signature song of Bessie, as she performed it since the days she had come first to Chicago in 1951.

It's interesting to see, at any rate, how old songs got re-packaged on this Savoy-LP. A good case in point is »It's Running Time«. On the face of it, no other song by this title is known up to 1969. Yet also this song belongs to Bessie's repertoire of 1953/4: She recorded it, together with the Caravans, in Jan. '54 under the title »Let Us Run (While It's Running Time)« (States # 140). And the year 1969 saw a stiff competition regarding that song: Albertina Walker (who had shared the studio with Bessie back in 1954) re-recorded that song on her album The Famous Caravans: Where He Leads Me (Gospel LP # 3080, 1969), and here the song appears as »Run While The Sun Is Shining«. It is plainly a nightmare for every serious-minded discographer!

Well, it shouldn't overly trouble us, we sorted it out by now. Let's listen instead to two songs from Bessie Griffin's album. I propose one from among the original recordings, »At The Fork Of The Road«, and her re-recording of the classic »It's Running Time« (aka »Let Us Run«). The first is a soaring hymn, and Bessie bestows upon us a emotive, spiritful delivery. The second tune, much better known (if not in Bessie's version of 1969), is a fast-paced gospel boogie.
I wish you a pleasant and peaceful Sunday!

Bessie Griffin: »At The Fork Of The Road« / »It's Running Time« from the Savoy LP # MG-14233 (c.1969):

P.S. / Info from the back cover of Savoy LP # 14233:

»Notes and supervision: Fred Mendelsohn
Recording: Rev. Lawrence Roberts
Mastering: Medallion Studios
Fabricated by Modern Album of New Jersey Inc., Flemington, N.J.«

Tragical Mystery Song

Some months ago, I wrote a lengthy piece about the kiddie song »On The Good Ship Lollipop«. I argued there that the song, innocent as it seems at first sight, may have a hidden dimension which already has proven attractive to subversive artists, but which still awaits detection by minds of a more bourgeois inclination. Now, I recently came across another version of the song, recorded in 1965 by no one less than Ruth Brown. But why, for all heavens' sake, should an established r&b-artist the like of Ruth Brown waste her voice and talent on such a ditty? I thought about it, did some research, and eventually understood that an answer to this question must take several things into consideration.

»... blues belters Big Maybelle, Ruth Brown ... after they wailed
at a "down-home" soul session« (JET Feb. 27, 1964, p. 66).

Most importantly, we have to consider at what point in Ruth Brown's career she went into the studio to record this kiddie song. It was towards the end of '64 or the beginning of '65, and her career was stalled by then. Her name still rang with the many hits she had had during the '50s (famously making Atlantic »the house that Ruth built«), but Atlantic dumped her in '61. She then recorded for Philips, Decca, Brunswick and, finally, Mainstream; she charted the last time in '62.

What happened to her career between 1964 and 1966 can easily be gleaned from the following quotations (in chronological order):

»YES, SIR, THAT'S MY BABY ... (2:10) - Sensational comeback for Miss Brown here. Side has a very contemporary sound ...« (Billboard, Feb. 22, 1964, p. 3)

»Singer Dee Dee Warwick, who used to work as a background singer on recordings for other stars, stepped back into her old role recently for friend Ruth Brown when the latter singer recorded some new sides.« (Jet, March 12, 1964)

»Mainstream is being developed by owner Bobby Shad as a class album line, with singles strictly promotional in nature ... The new pop product features ex-r&b vocalist Ruth Brown ...« (Billboard, Feb. 13, 1965, p. 30)

»A new and more interesting Ruth Brown emerges on this disk [i.e. Main- stream # 56034]. Well known as the top-selling rhythm and blues vocalist, she sheds the blues mantel for smooth, sophisticated ballads.« (Billboard, Feb. 20, 1965)

»Blues shouter Ruth Brown gave a successful performance at local Playboy. ... Miss Browne's routine is based on degrees of the blues ... She is a straight- forward performer, avoiding gimmicks with a slight vibrato helping to achieve a comforting effect« (Billboard, Jan. 15, 1966, p. 18)

»Folks who reminisce "what ever happened to Ruth Brown, Frankie Lymon, Clyde McPhatter ... etc.?" should be pleased to know that these and other stars of a few years ago appear at the Apollo beginning Dec. 9« (Jet, Dec. 15, 1966, p. 64).

The picture emerging from those quotations is quite clear: Already in February 1964, Ruth Brown was accorded a »sensational comeback« which at the same time insinu- ates, between the lines, that before she was no longer a relevant star. Note also that her record is praised for its »contemporary sound« (which again insinuates, willingly or not, that before her music was out of touch with contemporary taste). The notice from JET (March 12) stresses that she had recorded »new sides« and props this up with the mention of Dee Dee Warwick. The two reviews from Billboard (Feb. '65) put Ruth Brown in the pop field and describe her as an »ex-r&b vocalist«, insinuating that she had become someone else by now. This is made more explicit in the second review where her art is called »new and interesting«, underlining the fact that she has »shed the blues mantel« which is the same message all over again: Ruth Brown has reinvented herself and left r&b behind. Alas, when success did not come, she was in 1966 re-packaged into the r&b-artist viz. »blues shouter« mould, only to finish up towards the end of the year in a list of »stars of a few years ago«, stuff to reminisce about: »What ever happened to Ruth Brown«? And so, in 1966, she was back being an old-fashioned »blues shouter« after she already had been called a »blues belter« in a JET-issue of 1964 (see the pic above), right when she was about to start her comeback. If you look at the pic above, you also note that Ruth Brown is shown together with Big Maybelle, and this is highly emblematic after all: Big Maybelle was another »blues belter« of days past and »ex-r&b vocalist« whose comeback failed in the '60s.

* * *

Ruth Brown performing at benefit show
at Statesville Penitentiary, Aug. 1963

Several record companies after 1962 struggled to get Ruth Brown back on the charts, and the latest effort for a long time to come was made by Mainstream Records in 1965. This effort was doomed, however, and her »comeback« faltered. The above-quoted passages tell the story.
     Ruth Brown described the mid'60s as her »wil- derness years«. She had kids to look after, and in June 1965 married a second time (the police patrolman W. C. Blount). In her autobiography, she wrote about her Mainstream album (entitled Ruth Brown '65, nicely advertising her »contemporary appeal«, and released in February '65):

»A mercurial little guy named Bob Shad signed me up for an album he called Ruth Brown '65. I was impressed with the trouble he took and the instrument- ation he used ... There were two Nellie Lutcher tunes, "Hurry on Down" and "He's a Real Gone Guy," and a slow, dreamy version of the old Shirley Temple classic, "On the Good Ship Lollipop."« (Ruth Brown with Andrew Yule: Miss Rhythm. The Autobiography of Ruth Brown, Rhythm and Blues Legend, New York 1996, p. 165.)

For the rest of it, Ruth Brown passes much of the '60s over with silence in her autobiography. As for the album Ruth Brown '65, I won't go into details (if inter- ested, see here and here). Frankly, I don't think the LP does contain anything near a song which could qualify as an authentic ear-catcher in 1965. And I have been musing, so far in vain, what was in the minds of Bob Shad and those responsible at Mainstream Records when they signed Ruth Brown. Mainstream Records, founded in spring 1964, was basically a Jazz label. In February 1965, Mainstream was reported being »in switch to pop« (see Billboard, Feb. 13, 1965, p. 30), and a spokesman of the label mentioned the new recordings by Ruth Brown explicitly in this regard. Thus they wanted to release »pop«, but what they did release was anything but.

This brings us back to the ditty »On The Good Ship Lollipop«. Mainstream had chosen it, together with »Hurry On Down«, for the single to promote the album (incidentally, it was to be Ruth Brown's only single for the label). What we have in the version as recorded by Ruth Brown is an arguably over-orches- trated Bigband- Blues adaption of the song. She herself called it »slow« and »dreamy«, and I am at a loss of what to call it. Certainly, Ruth Brown's version must not be included among the song's (potentially) subversive readings. But it nevertheless is interesting for what it is: Ruth Brown's tragical mystery song of 1965 when a producer's whim and a stalled career led her to apply her vocal artistry to this tune.

Ruth Brown: »On The Good Ship Lollipop« on Mainstream # 611 (1965):

Citrullus lanatus var. vulgaris

These are depressing days. I'm in a foul mood and not happy at all with what I was able to accomplish lately. Can't sleep until dawn, but the many things awaiting my attention won't go away. They're always lingering in the back of my head. Mean old world. So I felt I need something strong today, a force of nature. The obvious choice for this in a blog like mine is Tina.
     And mind, being not overly satisfied with myself and the world at the moment does easily put me into a polemical frame of mind. This is just as well and kiss my ass. Start doin' it here for a beginning:

Incidentally, these asses were meant to lure the eyes of Billboard-readers, in the issue of Oct. 19, 1968 (»Here Come De Blue Thumb«), to the fact that Bob Krasnow shortly before had established the Blue Thumb label. One of the first LPs released by Blue Thumb was Ike & Tina Turner's »Outta Season« (BTS-005).
     Polemically-wise, speaking about Ike & Tina Turner always warms my heart. Because there is one thing which since years has been upsetting me regularly, viz. What the heck is wrong with Ike & Tina? Browsing through the net and turning endless pages of music-related books makes you think that Ike & Tina were a minor phenomenon quite unsuited to be treated in detail, commercial to the bone, selling their souls to every record company that would offer them a fat cheque (or better still, cash), trusting on Tina's oversexed stage antics to sell their songs, with Ike being a mediocre composer and Tina a willful bitch. Of course, we also have the die-hard fans of Tina Turner mainly grown on her post-70s career, yet in most Soul circles her very notoriety made her name, it seems, almost a taboo. Professional music writers tend to ignore her pre-80s career. Mean old world.
     But you can go on for weeks badmouthing Ike & Tina and you won't harm them a bit. Theirs is a status much beyond the vain brabble of latter-born mortals. Yes, they were looking for the easy buck, and Ike's life can fill ten volumes of stories that will have your hairs stand on end. Both, and Tina in particular, were a force of nature the like of which you won't find a second time. And naturally gifted at that. They never recorded something really bad, no matter how unsuitable the circumstances and how distracted (or bored) the artists in question. I would like to remind you of what Nat Freedland wrote in a concert review: »As always, the biggest mystery about Ike & Tina Turner is why they aren't among the superstars of contemporary pop. Tina is such a fine singer and such a superlative performer that any reaction less than adulation seems pointless« (Billboard, Oct. 16, 1971).

* * *

Feeling better now, having said this. Mean old world, don't come knockin' at my door again. On to the Blue Thumb album. The first to strike one is the cover as has been often noted (see here and here).

Basically, you see Ike (on the front cover) and Tina (on the back cover) biting into water- melons slices, i.e. slices of citrullus lanatus var. vulgaris. Their faces are smeared with a white paste, creating the unusual effect of whiteface. It was all part of a thought-out message as Bob Krasnow, owner of Blue Thumb, explained: »It was a parody. All the white guys were doing blues records then, so I thought, 'Hey, the only way a black act can do the blues now would be to put 'em in white- face,' you know? We had plenty of problems with that cover. I mean, people had threatening my life« (quoted in Turner/Loder: I, Tina, page 150). Krasnow's love for creative cover artwork is known,and thus it is not astonishing that he came up with the Turners' whitefaces: »One day, Ike Turner complained to Krasnow that white kids were making a fortune playing the blues and Turner, a black man and a life-long blues musician, was still scuffling. The result ... was the Outta Season cover, depicting Ike on one side and his wife Tina on the other, each in whiteface makeup and eating a huge slice of watermelon. Outta Season was nominated for a Grammy, for its cover design.« (quoted from Bill DeYoung: »The Story of Blue Thumb Records«, Goldmine no. 412, read it here).

Tina is present even twice on the album sleeve. Once sinking her teeth into the citrullus lanatus, once inside the gatefold cover where she appears in a sexy black dress, striking a soul-power pose (or whatever it was meant to be). Greil Marcus accorded her a »fabulous and dazzling sexiness breaking through even on a gag photo.« However, if you consider how Tina would appear only little later in the early 70s during her stage shows, this photo is still a far cry from what was to come. Seen in this light, Tina here appears rather like a bourgeois cocktail party guest who lost her stiff countenance after a gin or two!

The most thorough analysis of the melon-cover was put forward by Susan Fast in her article »Bold Soul Trickster: The 60s Tina Signifies« (in: Laurie Stras (ed.): She's So Fine. Reflections on Whiteness, Femininity, Adolescence and Class in 1960s Music, Farham 2010, pp. 203-234).

Susan Fast writes: »In a carnavalesque reversal, Ike and Tina turn the racist legacy of blackface minstrelsy in on itself in a grotesque parody, while at the same time complicating the desire for the Other that the mask of traditional minstrelsy symbolized. Instead of whites desiring blackness ... we have blacks desiring whiteness that desired blackness. The image suggests that whites who appropriate black culture do so in superficial or stereotyp- ical ways - by eating watermelons, the fruit so often used in racist caricatures of blacks or by dabbling in black music. But the prominence of the black hands - their foregrounding - belies Ike and Tina's racial identiy, as do the knowing winks given by both.« (pp. 203, 205). And note that both actually have already bitten off a piece of the slice! Not the least achievement of Ike & Tina in late 60s soul to have their faces put on this innovative cover, even though Bob Krasnow can, I think correctly, be credited with the idea.

As for the music, the first of Ike & Tina's Blue Thumb LPs features mostly standard blues songs. Two of those, Little Walter's »Mean Old World« and B.B. King's »Rock Me Baby«, you can hear in the following. Of all their LPs, »Outta Season« (and its follow-up, »The Hunter«) is certainly the most blues-oriented; Bob Krasnow, in a 1971 Rolling Stones inteview, called it »gutbucket R&B ... like we have on our Blue Thumb record ... really blues.« All songs were played in an almost classical mode, very close to how the blues players from the Chicago scene had done them before. This, on the other hand, was to become the cornerstone of critical remarks con- cerning this album, and many since have repeated what Greil Marcus wrote in that regard. He found little to recommend in the album:

»The material, almost all blues, looks fine ... The possibilities for letting Tina loose seem terrific. Maybe so, but it doesn't happen. All the cuts are done straight, without invention or excitement. The one saving grace is Ike's guitar playing, very tough, melodic, at times almost dazzling, great debt owed to BB King and all that, but in fact a good lesson for young musicians who can't make their instruments speak but who don't want to sound like Blue Cheer either. But that's it. The band sounds tired and bored, as if they've done it all a million times before and just couldn't be bothered.« (Quoted from here).

This is not without some justification. But, again, it throws the baby out with the bath water (and, I'm tempted to add, also hacks the tub into pieces). I think Ike & Tina still did a terrific job. They couldn't do otherwise, at least not before the mid-70s when everything fell to shambles eventually.
     Just enough for today. In a future post I will say something about the ways the Turners were related to the Blue Thumb label. At the moment, you will have to do with Ike & Tina's gutbucket blues recorded in late '68 (as far as we know). I can imagine many a fate much worse than this. My Weltschmerz is, I can assure you, much eased by listening to Tina's blues performance. Mean old world! If you're still eager to read more about Ike & Tina right now, check out Jaime Danehey's Ike & Tina Project or read this page.

Ike & Tina Turner: »Mean Old World« / »Rock Me Baby« from the Blue Thumb LP # BTS-5 »Outta Season«:

Trance Off

In the year 1967, even the most unlikely record companies jumped upon the soul train. Well, New York's Musicor-Dynamo was not really an unlikely company to do that: their roster included a few artists who made some noise in the R&B-pop field. From 1967 onwards, most of them were relegated to the subsidiary Dynamo (Luther Dixon's label), including Inez & Charlie Foxx, Barbara & her niece Brenda, Kenny Ballard, Tommy Hunt and a latter day version of The Platters. On the other hand, Musicor's roster was a colored bunch and included also C&W-singers, bigband outfits, Puerto Rican musicians and, securing the survival of the company over the years, Gene Pitney. If you look at Musicor's discography from 1967 onwards, who will find that the bunch got ever more colored after that, and only a few artists managed to have more than two single releases.

Musicor LP # MS3131 (1967), cover

However, in 1967 Musicor went for it: »... with best wishes from Musicor, the home of soul!« was the final salute to those who read the notes on the back cover of Musicor LP # MS3131. This album, released in late May or early June '67, was called »A Quartet Of Soul« and included 12 songs by four of Musicor-Dynamo's most successful soul artists. (It was later reckoned as "first volume" because similar anthologies were to follow). The adjective-stuffed (»amazing line-up«, »fantastic teaming«, »terrific new sides«, »searing vocalistics« ...) sleeve notes further proclaim that »if soul is the thing, then Musicor has it in generous quantities« and eventually arrive at this conclusion: »This is absolutely a rocking jamboree of soul that will make you think you're right there at a wild and stombing live performance.« Winding that pompous message down considerably, Billboard (June 10, '67), in a bland and noncommittal review, declared that the album was »a truly all-star soul package with plenty of pop potential« and had »diversified and dynamic flavor«.

The Billboard writer had a point, though. The album is diversified and dynamic, as an anthology should be. And there is one song that stands truly out from the rest. It certainly isn't rockin' soul, but, if the truth be told, I don't know what it is. I'm speaking of »Too Young To Be Fooled« by Barbara & Brenda (see a nice picture of them here). What is it? Psychedelic R&B? Soul in the Sky With Diamonds? You tell me. No surprise, in any case, that the song has attracted some attention and was repeatedly sampled on CD: you find it on Ace's »Where The Girls Are, Vol. 2« and on Bear Family CD RPM 212 (»It Takes Two: 23 Prime R&B / Soul Duets«). Originally, the hypnotic song, written by Barbara Gaskins, was released in Feb. '67 as the soulful B-Side on Dynamo # 103, together with »If I'm Hurt You'll Feel The Pain«.

The song takes you right off the ground. Listen here and trance off.
It is utterly beautiful.

Barbara & Brenda: »Too Young To Be Fooled« from the Musicor LP # MS3131 (1967):