I hear a symphony

A lavishly orchestral take on the classic Philly Soul sound, sung mainly by men in a falsetto fashion, may sound like something of a joke at best, or a sickening sonic nightmare at worst. But bridging the divide between the advance of soul as a dominating pop form through the 1960s, the advance of the funkier edges in the creative high-point of the early 1970s, and the impending disco explosion at the end of that decade, is a style of music that fits just that description.

Regular readers of this humble blog will be familiar with the fact that 1970s soul, funk and R’n’B provide us with some of our tastiest musical morsels on which to chew and cogitate. It is simply one of the richest and most fertile of periods for the lover of soul music and all of its off-shoots, and never ceases to throw up interesting new food for thought. One of the defining movements, if that is not too strong a term, was of course in Philadelphia, with the so-called Philly sound as characterised and shaped primarily by the label Philadelphia International Records, and led by luminary figures who crafted the sound such as Gamble & Huff, John Whitehead, Gene McFadden, Linda Creed and Thom Bell to name perhaps the most prolific.

The Philly Sound was characterised by the melding of soul with a funkier influenced sound, wrapped up in lush, often string and horn-led arrangements. Highly produced and highly polished, Sweet Philly still sounds highly accomplished today. There is time elsewhere to look at leading artists, from Teddy Pendergrass and Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, to Patti LaBelle and Billy Paul, and even the rock and soul of Daryl Hall & John Oates (seriously, don’t chuckle, these boys had some serious soul smarts in them, and the retro joy of “Maneater” and “I Can’t Go For That” are just the tip of an interesting iceberg, albeit one that went slightly adrift later on).

But for now I wanted to just draw attention to a different off-shoot of this scene, one of which many will be familiar, though perhaps not fully conversant. For within the Philly Sound there was, if it were possible, an even more lavish extension, a style of music which came to be known as Symphonic Soul. Think of the Delfonics, think of the Stylistics, think of the Chi-Lites, and yet more lesser known artists such as the Moments or Blue Magic. What is it that springs to mind, say, if you were to sing along to the classic Delfonics track “Didn’t I (Blow Your Mind This Time)”, as I know you surely have done?

Of course, it is reaching for, and failing to hit, the high notes baby, singing in that distinctive falsetto that is beyond most of our grasps and sounds like a recipe for disaster on paper. But for this, and other similar ballads, the high-ranged approach does not grate but rather provides a strikingly brilliant and original sound. The melodies of Symphonic Soul are startlingly complex and grand, and feature a range of instrumentation that took soul boldly into a new area. Flugelhorn anyone? Bassoon? No, how about we all just get down around the timpani? But these were all employed to devastatingly great effect, and coupled with the use of a high-pitched and vulnerable approach to male vocals, served as a revolutionary new style. Men were suddenly saying sorry, and providing examples of themselves as losers in love, as well as hopeless romantics. And it sounded just lovely.

Thom Bell was the producer at Philly International who perhaps did most to develop this sound, and his complex arrangements reveal more than most his extensive classical training. And it is this sheer lushness of sound, coupled with the sweetest vocals and quite extreme sentiments that make it so appealing. The romantic approach is over the top perhaps, and yet the music retains an integrity despite the angst and melodrama,. The commercial high-point is probably with the Stylistics, and classic cuts like “Betcha By Golly Wow” and “I’m Stone In Love (With You)” are evidence of why the “Best of The Stylistics” was one of the best-sellers in a decade that provided a host of genuine contenders.

And it remains a good entry point into this rich seam of music. Hey, if it is good enough for Ghostface to tap into for his solo samples, it’s good enough for me. Just be careful reaching for those notes. Ruptured hernia is really not a good look. Ouch!

Love the Eighties

I have waxed lyrical before about my respect for Little Brother, both in their days when 9th Wonder was an integral part of the group’s sound, but also in the times since. Recent release “Get Back” is a solid offering, and proves, as if there was any doubt, that Rapper Big Pooh and Phonte remain two of the most under-rated and yet talented MC’s out there. And Phonte particularly is an artist who interests me the more and more I see and hear him. And one of the reasons for this is the fact that while he recognises and respects the traditions and skills of his first love * those of the hip-hop emcee * he also refuses to be bound by them.

Anyone who has seen LB live, or even listened to their music at all, will know that they have a great sense of humour, and ability to lovingly parody their own genre without feeling threatened by such an approach, itself a refreshing attitude in a sea of beefed-up testosterone where having respect and keeping face is paramount. And yet, LB wear their hearts and their insecurities on their sleeves. They’re not the only ones, and rap does have a tradition of parody of sorts (Black Sheep’s “U Mean I’m Not” as a prime example of it done well), but LB do keep things interesting.

Phonte’s own musical diversity and ability to gently poke fun at himself above all others is clear from within the LB canon, particularly his pseudonym Percy Miracles, one of the most genius inventions of recent years. His collaborative work, most notably with Nikolay as Foreign Exchange, is also a sign of his desire to innovate and push boundaries. But his Phontigallo moniker is also a route to exploration and experimentation, and the current project sees him team up with another talented riser, producer and mulit-instrumentalist, Zo! (exclamation mark included). Zo!

Has been around for some time, and his desk work features on LB’s “Get Back” as well as across numerous others such as Slum Village, Foreign Exchange and Spacek to name a few. His beats are a mellow, dreamy electronica in the main, and well worthy of checking out for their own merits. But the collaboration with Phontigallo that has me salivating is the real point of this posting. “Zo! And Tigallo Love the 80s” is the name, and if the three tracks available already are anything to go by, this will push hip-hop into areas it never even knew it wanted to go.

I don’t even know if an album of covers of classic 80s songs by two hip-hop schooled dudes even counts as hip-hop any more. But again, that is the point because as stated above, it is typical of Phonte in particular to try new things out and damn the consequences. Whether other people think it is a wack direction makes no difference, and this is why his integrity remains so solid, and why I admire him so. Because, make no mistake, a rapper singing over lush electronic versions of 80s classics is not your everyday fare.

And yet, to me, it works brilliantly. The three tunes I have heard are themselves worthy of note for various reasons. Norwegian power-poppers A-Ha and their seminal tune “Take On Me”. Massive. Toto’s “Africa”. Immense. And the final piece of inspiration? Joe Jackson’s “Steppin’ Out”, itself a tune of greatness that deserves to be reprised, cover version or not. If this sounds like a nightmare to you then fair enough, leave it be. But if you have a sense of fun and exploration give it a go. They say parody works best when you truly love the subject under scrutiny. Judged by these standards, Zo! And Tigallo really do love the 80s.

Is 90% good enough?

As we have discussed before on this very forum, there are some songs in your collection which just serve to slay you very time you hear them. Often they hold special and personal memories wrapped up in their rhythms, sometimes they are a well-worn mainstream hit, sometimes a new piece recommended by a trusted compadre, or an album track that is infrequently stumbled upon but always appreciated. Equally often there are those singular tunes from an artist whose back catalogue you know very little about, their standout track being the only one you know about, and that is as far as the dalliance with their work goes. Or at least the standout is the only one you are aware of.

Because often, a little delving can pay huge dividends. Now, I only have myself to blame for the late discovery of the work of R’n’B and disco soul girl Gwen McCrae, often erroneously also referred to as the Queen of Northern Soul. There is little excuse, really, but hey, there is a lot of music out there, no? But it is still slightly shameful. Because there are three existing McCrae tracks that I absolutely adore. The first is of course the 1979 classic “All This Love That I’m Giving”, the tune which blew up on the Northern Soul circuit and which remains an instant hit with all clubbers of a certain vintage.

It still rocks floors effortlessly today. It is taken from little known album “Melody of Life” and raised little attention on first release, before being claimed by the vintage-seekers of the rare groove scene in the UK, and soon elevated to venerated status. This album itself is massively slept on, and if you can find it provides some pure vintage mellow southern soul. The second cut that has always perked my interest is the sparse disco beat of 1981’s “Funky Sensation”, a tune of incessant sweetness and unbridled funk.

It Is huge, and comes from yet another long player, this time the self-titled “Gwen McCrae”, which itself proves the diversity of McCrae’s talent, upping the tempo slightly and setting a template for the 80s sound which turned the ashes of disco into another marketable soul and even gave hints to the mining of this seam that hip-hop would soon undertake. However, the piece de resistance of this holy triumvirate is the immense 1975 cut “90% of Me”, the tune which stands alone amongst her impressive oeuvre. Taken from the big-selling and very impressive 1974 R’n’B album “Rockin Chair”, this song is nigh on perfect. A tale of twisted love and heart-break, of consuming passion and amorous possession, the groove drips with a melancholic desire and the dirtiest, yet somehow smoothest, of laid back funk.

It is just a monster, and has a uniqueness of sound which gives it a timeless quality. Knocks me out every time. And as I say, the album that spawned it provided McCrae with perhaps her biggest contemporary hit, and is itself a classic slice of Miami soul, perhaps the finest example of its type, melding sweet soul and a pop awareness with a downtime and deep, deep funk. And so, to wrap up this tale of discovery, I have finally ventured into the back catalogue of Gwen McCrae with proper purpose, and as you can hopefully see from the stories above, it is proving a rather wonderful journey. And as I progress I am realising more and more what an under-rated artist she is. Her career has covered over three decades, and she still records and performs today. It is ironic in a way that ex-husband George McCrae is perhaps better remembered, due largely to his own 1975 hit “Rock Your Baby”.

But it is Gwen McCrae whose work, for me, really endures. Much of her 1970s output was on soul and disco’s label front-runner Henry Stone’s TK Records, and this is itself another label of huge worth in terms of exploration. Indeed a recent McCrae release, a re-recording of her and others’ key tracks from TK, comes in the form of 2006’s “Gwen McCare sings TK”. This is testament to the ongoing quality of her voice, but also contains a number of tracks, that you may be surprised to be familiar with. As a starting point it is useful, but for the real stuff get digging in the vaults. Just don’t leave it as long as I did, because otherwise your collection will always be only 90% full.

Rrraaaow! Rrraaaow! Like a Dungeon Dragon

I was recently treated to a show by the legendary MC and one-man cyclone, the unique and irrepressible Busta Rhymes. I should clarify that this was not just for my benefit, but rather Buss-a-buss visiting London town with his ever loyal sidekick Spliff Star on promotional duties for his latest LP “Blessed”, and ripping it out for an equally loyal crowd here in London town. This was the first time that I have ever witnessed the man live and direct, and what was refreshing about the show was the sheer energy and entertainment value that Busta put into his performance.

I have witnessed a few shows recently that I have begin to label as legacy-baiters, established artists with little of anything original to say, but coerced to keep touring to shift units of a new offering, and secure the status of their back catalogue. And I don’t think this is just a rap thing by any means, it’s just that when a rapper is visibly not really giving it anything like their all, it seems to hurt a little bit more. This might be because of hip-hop’s modern dependence on rhetoric and hype over actual innovation and talent, but more I think it just grates when a show consists of a hype-man and DJ doing more work than the main star, and when the performers have to keep telling you how good the show is, and how great they are.

Braggadocio is always a mainstay in hip-hop, and rightly so, but too many shows these days are little more than half-arsed PAs, the show providing some ready cash and a minor irritation between the partying of tour life. Don’t these guys realise there is a global credit crunch on and there needs to be more bang for the buck, more sweat-towel ringing for the blinging?! Anyway, rant over. Because despite Busta finding himself slightly in the black hole of questionable modern day relevance, yet with a status befitting a legend, he still knows that the best way to hold on to his hard-fought position is to work as hard as ever, if nor harder, to impress existing and new fans.

Of course we have known ever since he burst onto the scene as part of the Leaders of the New School that Busta Rhymes is far from just your average rapper, instead coming across like the Marvel superhero of rap, larger than life itself and with a one-off flow and cartoon-like energy that simply demands attention. And this comic book analogy is not intended to be derogatory in any way, because behind the wild dancing, souped-up appearance, gruff voice and wickedly twisted and often humorous rhyming, is a rapper of immense talents.

One of the finest, point blank. We all love his scene-stealing appearance on Tribe’s archetypal posse cut “Scenario”, the verse to end all verses, and which launched him fully into the mainstream. We love also his evolution into an MTV superstar, riding innovative beats with consummate ease, spitting rapid-fire and more measured verbal darts of pure inspiration. From “Woo Hah!” in 96 through to “New York Shit” ten years later, Busta has produced some of the biggest cuts of the past decade and demands respect. And the thing about him which I think is often over-looked is not only his lyrical invention, but also his innate ability to nail a beat, no matter how twisted or syncopated.

He has a knack for twisting his words and flow around the trickiest of rhythms, the most jarring of beats, and it is an easy skill to take for granted. A good example comes on last years’s welcome mixtape “Dillagence”, produced by Mick Boogie and featuring Busta and guests over Jay Dee tracks. Taken from album off-cuts, unreleased tracks or re-released classics, this is a solid and in parts inspired example of Busta’s skills as an MC. Of course, Dilla’s beats are always on point, and the pair had produced some inspired moments in recent years anyway. But this project is a worthwhile addition to the mix, a showcase of what was and could have been.

Dilla’s own originality was of course one of his strengths, but also many of his beats have a peculiarity which themselves demand a certain kind of talent to showcase their full strength. In places on this offering Busta seems born for the role. See how he outshines both Talib and Q-Tip on the Donuts-beat of “Lightworks”, or standouts “Baggage Handlers” with Raekwon, “Takin’ What’s Mine”, and the storming “Step-up”. All choice cuts, and all taken to another level by Busta. As far as I’m concerned, wherever he goes from here, Busta’s legacy is watertight.