Reverberations: Rambles, Rants, and Raves (05-05-2015)

Everyday I listen to music. And think about music. Today I was listening to the Real Kids, specifically their eponymous debut album on Red Star, a label started by Marty Thau. Marty was a good egg. Got to know him a little by correspondence toward the end of his life. Let's put it this way, he managed the New York Dolls and started a label that introduced the Real Kids and Suicide to the world outside the Northeastern United States. The fucking Sam Philips of St. Mark's Place, I tell ya.

That Real Kids album is a masterpiece. John Felice is a true believer in rock 'n' roll - as form, process and heart. His Real Kids were not exactly original. With every stud showing, you could see the materials from which they built their church. But it was in the mixing and personalizing of these materials that Felice and crew put their own stamp on the music they love. "All Kindsa Girls" - there are few better rock songs - a lot of Chuck Berry, a wad of Beatlegum, those heart tugging strains teased from Them's "Brown Eyed Girl" on the coda. Whether it was instinct or craft, it was surely inspiration, the inspiration of a kid (Felice) for whom Rock 'n' Roll was a way of life, not just an entertainment.

"Reggae Reggae" gives Felice a second opportunity on the record to diss homosexuals ("she thinks I'm a fag") to complement "the guys are all faggots" from "Do the Boob." So, no - political awareness wasn't John's strong suit. Appalling? Sure. But in the context of Boston-rock in the Seventies not to be wholly unanticipated from a working class Italian kid with fucked up teeth. The guitar sounds on "Reggae Reggae" are so great you just don't care, anyway. A weaving groove of Velvets (think "Foggy Notion") and Paul Revere (early, garage-y), the track is powered by drummer Howie Ferguson's uncanny, unconscious blend of Mo and Ringo. It's tribal, a clarion hip-shaker. The lyrics are ridiculous. What the fuck does it have to do with the Jamaican musical idiom, reggae? Fuck-all as far as I can tell. Apparently it's a - dance? But ultimately it's about drive and thrust, and the 'text' don't mean shit. When the words ("Reggae Reggae") are sung with such exhilaration it sounds revolutionary, just because joy and release always sound like liberation.

Oh, I was listening to The Magic Whip, Blur's reunion album. Am I wrong or is Britt Daniel
from Spoon's whole mid-Atlantic combination of clipped Anglo-diction and marble-mouth booze slur copped from Damon Albarn?



Have a great tomorrow.

Bobby Womack - The Bravest Man in the Universe (XL Recordings)

He’s one of the great soul men. As far back as the early Sixties he was writing and singing (w/the Valentinos) timeless songs like “Lookin’ for a Love” and “It’s All Over Now.” Yes, you students of white guys playing the rock ‘n’ roll, those tunes were further popularized by the J. Geils Band and the Rolling Stones, respectively.

He’s Bobby Womack. Dude moved in on Sam Cooke’s widow before the greatest soul singer of all was cold in the ground. Yeah, he’s bad. His songwriting skills were undiminished, but by the late Sixties Womack’s performing career had little traction. The he surfaced in the Seventies in a big way. With a string of classic releases, including Communication, Understanding, and Facts of Life, Womack solidified his place in the soul firmament. His songs from the soundtrack for the flick Across 110^th Street, featuring the era evincing title track, represented, along with Isaac Hayes’ Shaft and Curtis Mayfield’s Superfly, the transcendent musical statements of the Blaxploitation genre of the Seventies.

Womack also made some fine records in the Eighties, chiefly The Poet and The Poet II for the short lived Beverly Glen label. The man has staying power. Nonetheless, a recurring combination of drug issues, personal problems and career cul de sacs kept his profile low. Now 68, and on the rebound from his demons, Womack is back with The Bravest man in the Universe on XL Records, home to bands like The XX, Sigur Ros, Jack White, and Adele. The label’s one effort at soul resuscitation was the late Gil Scott-Heron’s We’re New Here (not a bad start). Bravest is stone, classic soul in composition and spirit, utterly contemporary in arrangement and production. And the synthesis of classic and current elements is successful in ways that make Bravest Womack’s best record in forty years. 

 Bravest is co-produced by Damon Albarn (Blur, Gorillaz, etc. – for those of you who have spent the last twenty years under a rock) and XL label honcho, Richard Russell. Albarn’s eclecticism and openness to adventures in sound is well documented. Russell, now sole proprietor of XL, was one of the label’s three original founders. XL initially emphasized music associated with dance and rave culture. All of these histories impact Bravery. This is not your father’s rhythm ‘n’ blues record. The kind of electronic rhythms and programming associated with acts like Massive Attack, XX and the trip-hop genre generally are consistent throughout Bravery. The contrast between these rhythm tracks and Womack’s gravelly, gospel derived singing is stark, but the synthesis is seamless.