Not the Walrus of Love

Cover versions can be a truly terrible affair, it is true, but for digging in the crates aficionados they can also be the source of some great gems from the vaults. I could list numerous versions of songs, some originally great themselves and some not so, that have been given definitive reworkings, often by relatively obscure artists who barely register on the musical map thereafter. And funk and soul seems to be particularly fertile for good cover versions. But even I have to take my hat off to an artist with the front to cover a Barry White tune, especially when that cover arguably knocks spots off the original.

I mean we are talking abut one of the most definitive voices in musical history, and yet to my mind Kellee Patterson’s 1976 version of the classic “I’m Gonna Love You Just A Little More, Baby” from her “Kellee” album of cover versions, does just that. It is an absolute stormer that takes the rug fight from under Mr White’s sizeable feet, injecting what is already a sultry and timeless groove into a plaintive statement of downright soulful sweetness that you never tire of hearing. It is difficult to find out too much more about Patterson, and certainly I have no idea if she is still recording, but what she did record is well worth digging for.

A former beauty queen from Gary, Indiana, she grew up as a contemporary of the Jacksons, often competing against them in local talent shows. She cut some records as lead singer of Groovy and the Electras in the early 1970s, but it was with pianist Gene Russell and his Black Jazz label where she really found her voice. Debut offering “Maiden Voyage” is a jazz gem, including another great cover, this time of Herbie Hancock’s jazz classic for the title track. Russell folded the label and moved to the Shady Brook stable, taking Patterson with him, and it is for this label that her best work was made. “Kellee” was followed in 1977 with “Turn On The Lights/Be Happy”, a funkier move towards the disco sound which then came fully to light on 1979’s “All The Things You Are”.

There are some really great tunes on all three of these LPs, not to mention the 12” “Let Go Let Go (Let Love Be The Driver)” which does not appear on an album, but after that the trail goes quiet. Shady Brook folded soon after and with it all signs of Patterson’s recording career. Who knows where she ended up, but if you are looking for a place to start some digging for a 70s soul classic, you can do much worse than finding Kellee Patterson. If Barry was the Walrus of Love, then she’s gonna love you just a little more, baby.

This Charming Man?

A fair amount has been spoken in the growing annals of Story to Tell, about the music of the 1980s. Let's not forget it was the decade that saw the remarkable growth in the rapidly burgeoning music and culture we have all grown to love, born in the Bronx and now the musical template arguably most commonly employed in the bling era battle of the hit parade. We have also wallowed in the decade's own pop canon, the source of seemingly endless retro joy in the 2000s as all of us 70s kids catch up with ourselves once more. Let's not even talk about the soul and funk, we know it's huge.

Anyway, the point I am meandering to is that we don't often talk about the shoe-gazing sibling of these sparkling gems, the "dreaded-for-some" guitar driven sound. But if music can come to define an age, in England it is difficult to argue against the importance of what would probably be termed indie or alternative music (despite it's equal prominence in the charts), and in equal measure the influence of the city of Manchester in charting the social landscape. The genius electronica of New Order, emerging from Joy Division's tragic story, the later period of baggy 'Mad'-chester guitar-driven rave, the brilliance of the Happy Mondays and the deified Stone Roses. And, of course, the sometimes maligned, often misunderstood but never understated shine of The Smiths.

I was listening to them recently and marvelling at what, to me, is one of the great musical partnerships, the melancholic gravity of Morrissey's voice and quite magical guitar of Johnny Marr. Perhaps not everyone's cup of tea, but undeniably important and gifted. To continue an earlier theme, to me it is truly evocative of an age. It defines not a glittering multi-coloured pop world, but what was actually a pretty grey period in English life defined by declining industry and social tensions. Yet it does so with a certain wit and charm that is a commonality of much of this entire island's musical heritage. So if you feel that way inclined there is much to discover in the sound of The Smiths, not least a particular essence of Englishness that only music can convey.

Love Got To Do, When I'm Rippin All Through Your Whole Crew?

Where to start with this particular blog? Of course we all know the classic lyric from Biggie's Machine Gun Funk. Beatin Mutha F*ckers like....We all know the stadium rock behemoth that is Tina Turner of the 1980s onwards, and we know the fact that former husband Ike Turner has gone down in notoriety as a short-hand for spousal abuse, thanks in massive part to the 1993 Tina biopic What's Love Got to Do With It? Now of course this reputation is well-deserved, and far be it from me to denigrate or belittle in any way the very real horrors of domestic abuse - it is simply wrong and while it can rightly be the focus of satire or irony, the man was a massive wife-beater and that is simply not cool, period. In his autobiography he even tries to address and excuse the issue by saying that yes he slapped her down on many occasions, but that this is very different from beating. Of course it is Ike, whatever you say! However, I have always felt it to be an injustice that this reputation has overshadowed the musical legacy of Turner, who was a verified legend of music.

Now that the man has sadly passed on, dying as you will have seen at the age of 76 last week, perhaps his musical legacy will once again be appraised for what it was (although many obituaries have obviously still peddled the familiar tale of abuse, both of drugs and his wife, while flashing past the musical history). Here was a man who created "Rocket 88" in 1951, on the legendary Sun Records (future home of Elvis of course)) argued by many to be the first Rock'n'Roll single and thus a piece of music whose influence and stature it is very hard to top. Even with this record, however, which Ike Turner wrote and led with his Kings of Rhythm band, the role of Turner was overshadowed for years by the record being credited to his vocalist Jackie Brenston and released with the band name the Delta Cats.

If you don't know Rocket 88 I urge you to discover it, a timeless piece with fuzzy, hard guitar and an undeniably funky groove to it. And then there is the soul work of the 60s and 70s, much of which alongside Anna Mae Bullock, soon to be Tina Turner, whom he met in 1956. I have long been a fan of their output, and on songs such as "River Deep, Mountain High", "Proud Mary" and "Nutbush City Limits" they achieved perfect rock and soul gems. For a glimpse of the pair at their best it is worth getting hold of the DVD of the documentary Soul To Soul, a concert video from1971 featuring an amazing concert by contemporary American artists in Accra, Ghana. In fact this film is worthy of its own post.

The fact is, though, that Ike Turner was a certified great, and I hope that in his passing, his musical legacy is properly remembered and celebrated. I passed up the chance to see him live a couple of months ago, planning to attend some live gigs scheduled for London in January. These are unfortunately now never to be, but despite his many flaws I hope the man now rests in peace. I just hope the angels or devils wherever he has ended up don't get on the wrong side of him!

Can You Feel It?

Before the monkeys and llamas, before the oxygen chamber and burnt hair, before the sad decline into absurdity and utmost controversy, Michael Jackson was a member of a band. An exceptionally successful band. And just as it is always worth listening to his best solo work (which ranks among the greatest soul and pop music ever made), it is also worth revisiting the music he made with his famous siblings, both as the Jackson 5 on Motown, and especially as The Jacksons after the Motown split in 1975 (Motown kept the Jackson 5 name for themselves).

Such is the strength of their output, as both the last great act to roll from the Motown production lines, and following their assumption of artistic and musical control following their move to Epic (under CBS), that it is difficult to pick out any one track for particular praise. I have always been very fond of their version of Bill Withers' "Ain't No Sunshine" with it's incredibly funky breakdown, and of course there are numerous accepted classics to also choose from including "ABC", "I'll Be There" "I Want You Back" (who doesn't thrill to the piano run intro to this tune no matter how familiar!?). But the period from 1975 into the mid-80s is arguably worthy of more attention than it gets from music fans.

We all know about the story of Michael Jackson's solo emergence into the self-styled King of Pop from "Off The Wall" through "Thriller" from this period, but the work of the collective is equally stunning. 1980's "Triumph" is simply huge, especially if you have ever seen footage from the tour of the same name, and 1984's follow-up, "Victory" is just awesome. All worthy of much more attention than is given here. But the prompt to this nostalgic trip, comes from an earlier time, just after the split from Motown, and the 1977 single "Show You The Way To Go".

At this time the group were still finding their creative feet, and so were placed under the production guidance of legendary Philly sound exponents Gamble & Huff for debut album on CBS imprint Philadelphia International, 1976's "The Jacksons". And this tune is a fine example of the increasing vocal and harmonic confidence of lead singer Michael. If you haven't heard it for a while it is well worth digging out. Not the strongest song in the world lyrically, but the emergence of a singer who would come to define the decade after it's release.

Massive.

Astoria to Tell

The last thing that any visitor to, or native of, London will tell you we need here in the bustling metropolis, is more shops and offices. It is already the case that small independent shops of the type that Twelve Bar aficionados will be familiar, whether record outlets, quirky clothes stores, or even just a local deli, are being forced out of business by the tide of commercial capitalism which is flooding our streets with corporate logos and washing away their very souls in the process. And the geography is to a certain extent irrelevant, as the forces at work in Britain's cities are also sanitising cities across the world, including the US. It wasn't just Giuliaini who cleaned up New York!

But music lovers in London have a particular reason to be affronted at present, with the seemingly irreversible decision that one of the most well known live venues in the heart of the cities is to be closed down and redeveloped. The Astoria, built as an inter-war music hall in 1923, was converted into a pure music venue in 1984 and in its time has hosted virtually every big band, and plenty of smaller artists on their way up, than it is decent to recall - Bowie, Oasis, U2, Nirvana, Rolling Stones, Prince, Madonna, Eminem. And it is not just the pop and rock royalty who have graced the grime and sweat of the fondly shabby venue. I myself have enjoyed shows by N.E.R.D, Dizzee Rascal, The Coral, Spearhead, CSS, The Hives, The Roots and many more there.

It is one of those venues that has plenty of drawbacks for the gig-goer, from layers of dirt to poor visibility in parts, and the ability to turn into a sweat-box very quickly, and yet it is rightly celebrated and seems to encapsulate the meaning of live music in it's very fabric. It is the place where bands on the verge of hugeness play. And now it's very existence is hanging by a string, seemingly soon to be bulldozer fodder despite 15,000+ signatories to an online petition and lots of luminous backers from the world of entertainment. And for what? Well you already have the answer to that. London is blessed with some great venues, from the Jazz Cafe to Koko, and Bush Hall to the new o2 arena, but that doesn't mean we can afford to lose one.

We have already lost legendary spots such as the Marquee, Hammersmith Palais and the Rainbow. If it was a museum or art gallery under threat in this way surely the government would step in and save the building as an important heritage site, as they should, but not in this case. Maybe gatherings of music fans still scare authority in some way. Maybe people really do just want to be able to get a mochaccino every 25 yards in central London. All I know is that music lovers all over should sign up to register their disapproval.

Because next time it could be your favourite spot that makes way. Go to http://www.petitiononline.com/savethea/ to pledge support.

The Next Movement

We at the Twelve Bar are not so insecure that we are not able to admit when we have slept on something big, and also take pride in opening up ears and minds a little bit with our Stories To Tell, literally wearing our influences on our sleeves. And an artist that I have personally slept on is another who wears her influences well, east Texas homegirl Lina. You may remember her debut on Atlantic, 2001's "Playa No More", with it's intriguing mix of 20s and 30s jazz and swing sound, filtered through a modern mix of hip-hop and the inevitable neo-soul tag, topped with Lina's sweet vocals and insightful lyrics. It was pretty big, particularly the title track, but for some reason failed to really propel her into the Badu, Jill Scott, Lauryn territory it perhaps deserved to. And for me, that was where the story ended. I thought that Lina had become another victim of the harsh economics of the sales-driven music industry, her creativity failing to find a market and this a safe home.

I was delighted therefore to discover, albeit belatedly, her sophomore project, released in late 2005 on Hidden Beach, and entitled "The Inner Beauty Movement". My curiosity as to the nature of this long-delayed follow-up soon gave way to pure joy at what is a truly great slice of contemporary soul. Anyone with the Twelve Bar soul sensibilities is likely to enjoy this album, keeping the blues and jazz feel of her previous effort, but with a clearer overall sound and sophistication. There is not a poor track on there, and for me the album is an example of how good modern female soul can be.

The scene really suffered from the lumping together of a load of diverse artists into one "neo-soul" genre, but maybe things are now beginning to change and the artists in question are able to express their diversity more fully. Jill Scott's new offering, "The Real Thing" also on Hidden Beach, is another fine example of unique modern soul. Apparently Line has a new long player out early in 2008 and I for one will now be watching much more closely. If you haven't yet checked Lina out, get with the movement, and discover the inner beauty.