Tag: Ike Turner

Social Distancing Spins, Day 6

by thedailyrecord, posted in Music history, review

By Joel Francis

The coronavirus quarantine has given me plenty of time to explore and write about my record collection.

The Records – self-titled (1979) When you name yourself something as basic as “The Records” you are telegraphing your lack of ambition (ditto for the current rock act The Record Company). I mean, one song released as a stand-alone single at the time was called “Rock and Roll Love Letter.” But being obvious doesn’t make The Records any less fun to play. The combination of chiming guitars straight out of the Byrds’ playbook and sweet harmony vocals on “Starry Eyes” practically laid the foundation for Matthew Sweet’s career. “Girls That Don’t Exist” thumps like a Cars track and “Girl” echoes of Cheap Trick. Again, none of these are bad things. Worse acts have gotten by on a lot less and the sum of these reductive parts is nothing short of a lost power-pop gem.

I have to take a moment to call out “Teenarama.” All the infectious melody in the world – and this cut has a lot of it – can’t mask predatory lyrics like “I wanted a change of style/to be with a juvenile” and “I thought that a younger girl/could show me the world.” Gross. I realize that grown men singing about young girls goes back further than Chuck Berry singing about someone at least half his age on “Sweet Little Sixteen” but that doesn’t make it any less despicable. Stop, now.

Ike and Tina Turner – Workin’ Together (1971) Legitimate question: When did everyone find out that Ike Turner was an abuser? Was it the film What’s Love Got to Do With It, Tina Turner’s autobiography or did everyone kind of know before then? I ask because I couldn’t help but dwell on the Turners’ tumultuous relationship during the Ike Turner-penned song “You Can Have It.” In the song, Tina Turner talks about working up the courage to walk away from a man who was no good. Project much, Ike?

Although this is a catalog-entry album, it plays like a greatest hits collection. The iconic versions of “Proud Mary,” “Get Back” and “Ooh Poo Pah Doo” (with a classical piano intro) are all here, as is the DJ classic “Funkier than a Mosquita’s Tweeter.” Throw in the fine title track and a cover of “Let It Be” and this has just about everything you’d want from soul’s dysfunctional couple.

Mudcrutch – 2 (2016) It is fitting that Tom Petty’s final recording is a reunion with his old band from Gainesville, Fla., and not the Heartbreakers. It is also fitting that guitarist Mike Campbell and keyboard player Benmont Tench are the backbone of both bands. Petty’s name was always out front, but Campbell and Tench (along with deceased bass player Howie Epstein) were the heart of the Heartbreakers. Everyone in Mudcrutch get the chance to sing an original song and Petty retools “Trailer,” a lost ‘80s Heartbreakers classic. This is the sound of musical friends enjoying each other’s company with no pretense other than to have a good time. “Beautiful Blue” belongs in every Petty playlist. There are worse things to have on one’s headstone than “I Forgive It All,” another Petty standout.

Tamaryn – Tender New Signs (2012) I had never heard of the New Zealand-born singer Tamaryn when I walked into the old RecordBar location to see the Raveonettes at the Middle of the Map festival. Performing immediately prior to the headliners, Tamaryn’s lush set of dream pop almost stole the night. Tender New Signs is very much in line what I heard that night. Tamaryn’s latest releases have moved in a more pop direction. They’re not bad, but the layered shoegaze approach here and on her second album, The Waves, are what I keep coming back to.

Prince and the Revolution – Parade (1986) I purchased this album on my way home from work the day Prince died. Surprisingly, the record store still had a handful of Prince titles in stock. I had all the others, so Parade was the winner. I can’t remember what I did first after arriving home, take off my jacket or put this on the turntable.

I never saw Under the Cherry Moon, the Prince film this album is supposed to accompany. I can tell you that I adore the hit single “Kiss” and that it may be my least favorite song on the album. There’s a reason why “Mountains” was a concert mainstay, but for even more fun check out the 10-minute version on the 12-inch single. More contemplative songs like “Under the Cherry Moon,” “Do You Lie” and the instrumental “Venus de Milo” weigh heavily in what would be come D’Angelo’s signature sound a decade later. There’s a reason why D’Angelo’s chose to pay tribute to Prince with this album’s closer “Sometimes it Snows in April.” That songs never fails to make the room dusty.

Mission of Burma – Signals, Calls and Marches (1981) Mission of Burma have always been on the artier side of the punk spectrum, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t brutally loud and abrasive. This debut EP cleans up their sound considerably but it will still pin you up against the back wall if you aren’t watching out. The reissue I own adds the group’s debut single “Academy Fight Song,” it’s b-side and a pair of unreleased songs on a second LP. I only wish the record label had either put all the material on one album (there is certainly enough room) or pressed the bonus content on smaller platter. There is a lot of unused wax on this essential yet brief release.

The Conquerors – Wyld Time (2016) This Kansas City band generated a lot of good press when Wyld Time, their debut album came out. I was so enamored with their British Invasion throwback sound that after hearing them at an in-store performance, I immediately scurried over to the racks and bought the album. Sadly, it appears the wyld times are over for the Conquerors. Their social media hasn’t been updated since 2017. This disappointing development shouldn’t stop any revivalists from enjoying the Conquerors only offering.

Joe Strummer – US North (1986)

Joe Strummer – Forbidden City (1993) This pair of 12-inch singles deliver some gems from the Joe Strummer archives. I have no idea why it took more than 30 years for Strummer’s collaboration with his former Clash bandmate Mick Jones to see daylight. “U.S. North” dovetails nicely with the pair’s work on the Big Audio Dynamite album No. 10, Upping St. and would have been a highlight on anything either artist released around that time. “Forbidden City” ended up on a Strummer’s first album with the Mescaleros in 1999. This demo version has a saxophone that gives it the same sound and feel as the Pigs With Wings soundtrack Strummer did in the early ‘90s. The demo is nice enough, but I don’t know it’s good enough to warrant a stand-alone release. I’d have preferred it if they included it on a proper collection, with more unreleased material. I guess I wasn’t disappointed enough not to buy it, though. There’s one born every minute, eh?

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Talking King Records with Jon Hartley Fox

by thedailyrecord, posted in Author Interview, Music history

(Above: Blues guitarist Freddie King was one of several King artists to get pinched when James Brown’s career started taking off.)

By Joel Francis
The Daily Record

Jon Fox Hartley is the author of the book “King of the Queen City” about King Records in Cincinnati. From 1943 to 1968, King was the home of James Brown, Freddie King, Grandpa Jones and countless other musicians. While other independent labels of the time concentrated on one type of music, King founder Syd Nathan wanted to produce “music for the little man” in all genres.

Fox , a native of Dayton, Ohio who now lives in California, recently took the time to speak with The Daily Record over the phone.

In the book, you make the case for several forgotten artists, such as Henry Glover, Wynonie Harris, Roy Brown and the Dominoes. These pioneers made important contributions to music, but have been ignored by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Why do you think they have been overlooked and haven’t received the recognition they deserve?

I think the first reason is that they’re all dead and have been for several years. Because of that, there’s no one to go to award shows and remind people they haven’t been elected. Also, because of the haphazard status of King reissues, records on King weren’t as available and presented as well as those on other labels. Finally, while all of these artists had pop success, they weren’t pop artist with large audiences. They were niche artists.

I would think that Wynonie Harris has a pretty good shot at getting in (the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame). Henry Glover’s daughter has talked to me about putting together some kind of campaign to get Henry into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Country Music Hall of Fame.

Jon Hartley Fox

In the book you also make the case for “Good Rockin’ Tonight” as the first rock and roll song. Why do you believe “Good Rockin’” that title over “Rocket 88”? How does acknowledging “Good Rockin’,” which was recorded in 1948, change our perspective of the landscape of early rock and roll?

It’s funny, because I made this argument in the book but hadn’t thought I’d have to explain or defend it. Right before the book came out, my wife says “You know you’re going to have to talk about that.” And she was right, because everyone has asked.

It’s a backwards process. You start with a song acknowledged as rock and roll, like “Rocket 88.” Then you break down the attributes that make it rock as opposed to jump blues or country. There’s a certain beat, a certain attitude and the subject matter of the lyrics aimed at kids. There’s also the aggressive, hyper-charged vocals.  Once you have those attributes of what makes a song rock and roll, you can apply them to other songs and see if they measure up.

For me, “Good Rockin’ Tonight” makes a strong case. It was the first post-war song to use “rockin’” in the sense of having a good time. “We’re going to party tonight.” It was also one of the first songs to be bought and listened to by white teenagers. The trend crested in the ‘50s, but as early as late ‘40s, white kids were buying these songs and listening to them on the radio.

If you take “Good Rockin’ Tonight” as the first rock and roll song over something by Bill Haley and the Comets or Elvis Presley or Jackie Brenston, it changes our understanding that rock and roll was something brand new that popped on the scene fully formed. It coincides with the evolution of a lot of things reflected in the music people in the upper South and Midwest heard on radio stations out of Memphis and Nashville. You’d hear country, gospel, jump blues, R&B and country boogie on those stations. Then you realize everything that went into rock and roll wasn’t a market creation so much as young people coming of age hearing the music of the ‘40s and synthesizing them.

Describe King founder Syd Nathan. What kind of a person was he? How did he live? How did his personality compare to other independent label owners of the time like, say, Leonard Chess or Berry Gordy?

When I talked to people about Syd Nathan, the word that invariably came up was “character,” as in He was a real character. He was kind of like someone out of a short story. He was tight with a penny, but generous sometimes. He was ahead of the race line culturally and politically, but could tell the crudest racist joke. He was a fun guy but abusive and could push people to the brink of mayhem.

A lot of people got mad at Syd Nathan, but few stayed mad at him. He was gregarious and loved to be surrounded by people. He was the guy holding court in the corner booth at the bar.

In talking to people who worked for and knew Syd Nathan, everyone respected him. Everyone had Syd stories. It is rare to find anybody who will badmouth Syd Nathan these days. I think that’s partly out of nostalgia, but I also think on a day-to-day basis he was probably a real good guy.

There are several stories about Syd’s anger, but I think he used those temper tantrums in the studio to get results out of people. He was trying to get the artist fired up. If he thought there was a spark missing from the performance, he would pick a fight to get the artist fired up. I think these fights were calculated, because Syd never held a grudge and no one stayed mad.

Compared to Leonard Chess or Berry Gordy, Syd Nathan was certainly more expansive musically than either man. He didn’t want to limit himself to one style of music; he wanted to try it all.

I really don’t know this for sure, but I think Syd was probably a little more progressive on race matters than Leonard Chess. I often thought of this while researching the book. At King, Henry Glover would write songs, play on sessions and produce. He was a highly valued vice president of the company. At Chess, Willie Dixon filled many of the same roles, but his day job was as a janitor at Chess.

I had long heard a rumor that during World War II Nathan had 30 or 40 Japanese-Americans working for him. I thought that was unusual because on the West Coast these people were being sent to internment camps.

Well I asked somebody who knew Syd at a book signing. He told me Syd was working with a religious political action group trying to relocate people about to be interred. Syd accepted about 30 to 40 families. They were American citizens, but if they’d stayed at home they would have been locked up. Syd moved them all to Cincinnati where they lived in an apartment complex on the bus line so they could come in to King and work each day.

Most labels find one niche and exploit it. Why do you think King was so successful in so many varied genres?

I think they were successful because they wanted to be and weren’t afraid to try. Syd realized he could make more money if he didn’t specialize in one kind of music, but did a lot of different things. Before the days of record stores, only two or three shops in a town would sell records back in the corner. They’d sell what they got from wherever. Syd saw that specializing was leaving money on the table so if they wanted gospel, he had gospel records for them. Same thing for blues, country, R&B, whatever.

Syd also realized that the song sold the record more than the style or performer. If he thought a song was good, he’d record it in several different styles. Once in a while he was right, and the same song was a hit on the country and R&B charts by different performers.

Once the major labels smelled money and figured out what King and other independent labels were doing they would swoop in and take it away. Syd knew the more diverse he could make King the more control he would have and the more success was guaranteed.

One often hears of a hit record ruining a company, like the Beatles and Vee-Jay. How was King able to sustain the massive popularity of James Brown? Did Brown’s success come at the price of other artists on the label?

To answer the last part first, yeah, Brown sometimes hurt other artists. Freddie King was very vocal about why he left King. One of his reasons was that all the promotional muscle and ad money went to James Brown. There were certainly others who felt his success came at their expense.

King built a huge infrastructure in the ‘40s and ‘50s. They had their own pressing plant and printing facilities to make covers; the studio was in house. The infrastructure took a certain amount of volume to make it profitable.

Right about the time they got it perfected in the mid-‘50s, business started to fall off. But just as the market started to decrease, along comes James Brown. Here was an infrastructure dedicated to James Brown, because frankly there weren’t many other artists left.

Had James’ success hit at a busier time, he might have swamped them. Other labels might not have been able to keep up with demand or gotten paid. That wasn’t a factor at King because they controlled their pressing. If they needed 100,000 James Brown records shipped out, they could get it done. They didn’t have to stand in line like other labels did.

In one of the last chapters you discuss the difficulties King supporters have faced in trying to get the label complex the landmark recognition it deserves. Other than the unveiling of a plaque in 2008, why has King yet to be recognized by the city of Cincinnati?

Again, I think this is in part because the principals are all dead or moved away a long time ago. There’s no real physical presence. The ice house complex (the former King building) is an ugly building in an industrial facility in a funky part of town. With the label’s move to Nashville in the ‘70s, there’s nothing to memorialize. About the only thing to do is put something on the building, and now they’ve got that done.

People have been trying for years to get something done with the old facility. A group at Xavier University in Cincinnati is the latest to try. They want to build a King museum with a recording studio and training facility for youth. We’ll see how this goes. It seems something like this gets proposed every 10 years.

The important thing about King is the spirit of it and I don’t know how to memorialize that. King was never about the facility, it was the spirit and idea of making records.

Keep reading:

Review – “King of the Queen City”

Talking Motown with Bill Dahl

Key King Artists

The True Story of Cadillac Records

Review: “The Oxford American: Book of Great Music Writing”

by thedailyrecord, posted in book review

(Above: Drivin’ N’ Cryin’ are one of many artists to get some love in a recent Oxford American music writing anthology.)

By Joel Francis
The Daily Record

The Oxford American “Southern Music Issue” is an annual treat, loaded with great writing that unearths wonderful stories on longtime favorites and introduces several new discoveries. Coupled with a CD – in recent years it’s come with two discs – the magazine effectively serves as the ultimate set of liner notes to a killer compilation.

Now in its 11th year, these editions are been rightfully prized; back issues frequently fetch more triple face value online. Fortunately, there is a more affordable way for new readers to access the previously published essays and features.

The Oxford American: Book of Great Music Writing compiles the best articles from the magazine’s first decade. The 420-page book reads like a mixtape, transitioning smoothly from all the usual suspects – blues, country, jazz, rock and bluegrass – and spiking the playlist with pieces on Southern metal, the Sex Pistols and the art of playing.

Several of the best features provide an intimate view of the artist or their environment. Tom Piazza’s account on hanging out backstage at the Grand Ol’ Opry with snubbed bluegrass legend Jimmy Martin is so awkward Ricky Gervais could turn it into a screenplay. Similarly, John Lewis’ weekend at Ike Turner’s house puts the much-savaged abuser in new light, particularly when the host shows up in his pajamas at the end of the day to thank Lewis for coming and hug him goodnight.

A history of jazzman Bob Dorough by Paul Reyes takes us from the obscure keyboard player’s origins touring with Sugar Ray Robinson, recording “Blue Xmas” with a dismissive Mile Davis and ultimately as the force behind Schoolhouse Rocks. The line from “Up a Lazy River” to “Conjunction Junction” was never so clear.

Beth Ann Fennelly’s description of a night at Junior Kimbrough’s juke joint with R.L. Burnside and Cynthia Shearer’s search for understanding in Janis Joplin’s hometown of Port Arthur, Texas both paint a clear picture of the artists’ native perspectives. One can feel the plywood sweat at Junior’s Place and imagine Joplin longing for some niche in town where she felt comfortable and ultimately yearning to get the heck out.

Despite a mention of Wu Tang Clan producer RZA in the introduction, the book eschews hip hop and most new music. A dated piece on R.E.M. circa “Automatic for the People” is the only time when the mainstream and the modern intersect. But while the book doesn’t touch on modern artists, it will certainly send readers scrambling back to dusty old platters, either on vinyl, acetate or plastic, to unearth old favorites, possibly for the first time.

Easier to carry than a stack of magazines, less trouble to hunt down online, the Oxford American: Book of Great Music Writing will be a pleasant voyage for adventurous fans of both good writing and good music.

The True Story of Cadillac Records (Part Two): Chess Records and the Birth of Rock and Roll

by thedailyrecord, posted in Music history

BoDiddleyGunslinger

Above: Musical pioneer Bo Diddley was cruelly excluded from the “Cadillac Records” story.

By Joel Francis

With Willie Dixon feeding steady hits to Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and other Chess artists, the label had become a driving force of popular taste less than a decade after it was founded. While blues were the label’s backbone, the Chess brothers had a hand in nearly every facet of African-American music – from doo-wop groups like the Moonglows and Flamingos and jazz pianists Ahmad Jamal and Ramsey Lewis to the comedy styling of Moms Mabley and sermons by Rev. C.L. Franklin, Aretha Franklin’s father. Starting in 1963, Chess even had its own Chicago radio station, WVON, Voice of the Negro, which is still on the air today.

Chess introduced the world to rock and roll in 1951 when it released Ike Turner and Jackie Brenston’s “Rocket 88.” Four years later, two new Chess artists helped rock and roll grow up in a hurry.

Chuck Berry was discovered by Muddy Waters while on vacation to St. Louis. Berry’s upbeat blues were spiked with country and given a teenage twist. Songs about work became songs about school; his love songs were less dark and more playful. Berry was a poet, capable of packing more syllables per stanza than any other singer. Consider the imagery and complexity in the familiar opening lines Berry’s legendary “Johnny B. Goode:” “Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans/Way back up in the woods among the evergreens.” Berry’s guitar was just as active as his mouth. His quick fingers brought the blues at twice the tempo and his athletic solos made him the first guitar hero.

If Chuck Berry’s souped-up songs took the blues to the teen market in the guise of rock and roll, Bo Diddley’s African rhythms gave them a beat everyone could dance to. Diddley was born Ellas Bates in McComb, Miss. but took the last name McDaniel from his mother’s cousin, Gussie McDaniel, with whom he moved to Chicago as a child in 1934.  Diddley’s songs were downright primitive compared to Berry’s, but no less powerful or influential. His shave-and-a-haircut beat was the backbone for many of his own hits like “Bo Diddley,” and “Who Do You Love,” and countless imitators like Johnny Otis’ “Willie and the Hand Jive” and Bruce Sprinsteen’s “She’s the One.” Diddley produced strange sounds from homemade guitars, while Jerome Green’s maracas fueled the relentless beat. Diddley and Green’s back-and-forth on “Say Man” is one of the earliest recorded raps.

The 1960s were a boon for Chess. New stars like Etta James kept the label at the top of the charts while Chuck Berry was in jail. Rock and roll may have knocked Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf from their perches at the top of the charts, but their old singles found a huge white audience in England. Teenagers who bought guitars to form skiffle bands were suddenly playing Willie Dixon’s songs and ravenous for Chicago’s blues. Dixon obliged them, organizing several annual American Folk Blues Festival tours of Europe. In return, the British Invasion bands brought Chess music back to America with them, introducing white America to the music its dark-skinned brothers and sisters had been enjoying decades. Waters, Wolf and the rest of the Chess stable were suddenly pulled from the chitlin circuit to colleges, theaters and festivals.

Chess responded to the changing marketplace in several ways. Before then, most Chess releases were 45 rpm singles. Now the brothers started packaging their hits together into LP records. Decade-old Sonny Boy Williamson tracks appeared on a “Real Folk Blues” compilation designed to appeal to the hootenanny crowd. Later, classic Waters and Wolf tunes were given psychedelic updates for the Summer of Love.

Keep reading The True Story of Cadillac Records.
Part One: The Birth of Chess Records and the Chicago Blues
Part Three: The Final Days and Legacy of Chess Records