I want you back

Hindsight is of course a fine thing. But believe it or not I have been intending to write a post for some time which returns to the music of Michael Jackson, a subject of such richness and depth as to be a stalwart of the Story To Tell archives. But clearly events of the past few days have over-taken me somewhat and thus a post which was due to extol the hidden virtues of the best track on the “Bad” album (and only one not to be released as a single) - the impeccable Stevie duet “Just Good Friends” - instead appears as something of a tribute piece.

Indeed I wondered whether or not to even comment, whether to add to the ever-increasing numbers of words which will now, and in the days, weeks, years to come, be written in eulogy to this most extraordinary of performers. But here on A Story To Tell we have always spoken honestly about the music we love, and so it seemed fitting to do so on this occasion, and explore briefly the impact of Michael Jackson’s music.

Here is not the place to go into the details of a life that became something of a circus and which tragically tailed off into such a sad ending. Everyone has their views, after all, on the events or alleged events of a life lived under the brightest possible glare of attention. And, while in no way undermining the seriousness of some of the most extreme of these claims, they are momentarily irrelevant as the world of music mourns a true genius. And the scale of the mourning and of the news itself is testament of sorts to the fact that there has never been, and will never be, a bigger musical phenomenon.

But even the level of fame, the sheer impact of his music culturally across the globe, the meaning it has to generations of fans, the boundaries it crossed, is not the subject here. For what is key, to my mind, is the fact that for the duration of nearly 20 years the music of Michael Jackson was touched with absolute genius. Credit may go to the stable of composers and producers at Motown, and then to Quincy Jones and Rod Temperton especially, as well as a raft of other contributors throughout his career. But there has always been an unknowable quality in the music which turns often outstanding compositions into recordings of pure magic, and that unknowable is the talent of Michael Jackson.

It is something impossible to put into words effectively, but the canon of works he has left us with are golden testament to the power of music to grip you and move you in ways that seem to shine with a wholly natural and yet other-worldly power. Listen to his best songs (and there are so many to choose from) and the only way to respond is to say that on each listen they retain a brilliance so bright as to never be dulled by over-familiarity or repetition. They truly add something to your soul on every single play. We all have Jackson moments that have shaped our appreciation of music, and I maintain that at his best there is no one to touch him, not even close. And fro the musical legacy I will always be grateful. And I still think “Just Good Friends” is under-rated but that can wait for another day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uftub3k0zAs&feature=related

Now I’m living in ecstasy

Sometimes in music it is the unremarkable that becomes remarkable, often just because of its pure simplicity and uncluttered sense of purpose. And it is frequently the case that these are the records that make it to ubiquity, to pop success and cemented onto the ever increasing list of pop staples. Much pop music, of course, is not worthy of too much analysis or attention, the common denominator simply tuned to perfection with formulaic brilliance. Some however is worthy of a little more of our time.

We’ve said it before and will say it again, but just because a record is a radio staple, tarred now with over-familiarity and a kind of nostalgic indifference, does not mean it is not still great. And one such record is Sister Sledge’s “evergreen classic “Thinking Of You” a record of seemingly simple charms that upon closer inspection reveals itself to be something of a work of quiet genius.

The album that carries this hit and favourite of many a 70s funk and disco revival night, is of course the phenomenally great “We Are Family” from 1979, perhaps the archetypal disco infused R’n’B/pop anthem collection. We will examine the full piece at some future point of course, but suffice it to say that here is an album that is simply superb, the vocal talents of Sister Sledge combining at their peaks with the very height of the Chic Organisation’s powers to create a commercially monstrous sound, rich also in musical mastery. But let us take “Thinking Of You” on its own for the time being.

Because here is a single, to go back to my original point, which has always shocked me with its sheer simplicity of approach, that combination of perfect yet uncomplicated components that create an incredible whole. Kind of like how a simple sandwich can be the ideal meal if all of the ingredients are themselves of fantastic quality and layered in just the right way. And it is the filling of Chic’s instrumental wizardry, dripping in the harmonic sauces that the Sledge family bring, and all wrapped up in the wholemeal goodness of Rodgers and Edwards’ production, that makes this one funky sandwich of gourmet proportions. Okay, I’ll leave the sandwich analogy alone now, point made.

Listen to the tune from the start and hopefully you’ll see what I mean. The tempo is relatively pedestrian, certainly not a dancefloor killer, and yet perfectly suited to the sensual elegance and dreamy sentiments of the track. The opening acoustic guitar riff seems simplicity itself, a choppy and syncopated lick that sets the tone and tempo, but listen closer and it is a relatively complicated collection of chord changes, played to perfection and surely one of Nile Rodgers’ finest riffs from a collection that is second to none for funkiness. And then the touch of conga and the strings come in, that second staple of the disco-drenched sound, designed perfectly to tug on the emotions with their swirly faux orchestral swoops. But again, they are not picked at random but rather the ideal tone and pitch.

At 28 seconds we get a tiny slap of bass, two mere notes that preface the awesome bassline that drops 10 seconds later, accompanying the breathy vocals to perfection. And finally the vocals themselves, seemingly throwaway gift card sentimentality, but actually a sweetly constructed declaration of devotion. Not Shakespeare perhaps, but as beautiful in its own way, especially the sincerity of emotion and how the vowels flow beautifully with the sunniest of tracks. We’re treated to one final, gorgeous breakdown two and a half minutes in, allowing the strings, congas and hi-hat to take us even higher, before the groove takes us happily home, flirting with piano, over-dubbed vocals and musical exquisiteness.

As I listened to the track recently, I was taken aback with the coherence of it all, a track which has always pleased, and yet when considered carefully seemed to be so much more than just a perennial favourite. It seemed closer to funky soul perfection. And as always it is the things which are made to look easy which reveal themselves to be the hardest to do, and those that achieve that feat of making things seem simple, well, that’s where true genius lies my friends.

sister sledge thinking of you
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Wanna love ya, wanna hug ya, wanna squeeze ya too

Everybody who tunes into the ramblings of A Story To tell will undoubtedly be a fan of at least some of Chaka Khan’s work. The massive touch points of a brilliant career are of course the definitive cover of Prince’s “I Feel For You” featuring Melle Mel in a rap soul crossover smash, and the still incredible “Ain’t Nobody” her last hit alongside Rufus, the band that catapulted her to fame in the first place. And it is her work with this most funky of outfits that I wanted to dwell on briefly here as it seems to me that Rufus are a band whose reputation in the annals of music history , not to mention incredible output, has been slightly over-shadowed by the subsequent success of their erstwhile vocalist.

Not the first or last time that an inevitable solo career will over-take the group that spawned it of course, but Rufus are certainly one of those groups who represent far greater than a mere springboard to success for a particularly talented lead singer. Rather, they were to my mind one of the very best bands of the 1970s, with a superbly gifted front woman no doubt, but with component parts that more than matched her.

Rufus’ catalogue, from beginnings pre-Chaka at the very end of the 1960s, through to their final disbandment in 1983 following the huge success of “Ain’t Nobody” and inevitable migration to solo stardom of Ms Khan, is genuinely excellent. The brand of soul and funk from Rufus was one of the most commercially successful of any within that genre throughout the 1970s, spawning a run of massive hit singles, and is as varied and powerful as many more feted groups from their era. From super-charged and stomping funk workouts to tender balladeering, from straight up soul to rock-infused grooves, this band could do it all, and often driven by that most powerful of instruments, the sheer fireball of Chaka Khan’s vocal prowess.

And it is this variety that provides reason after reason for re-visiting their back catalogue, a real trove of excellence. You can dive in at any point in the 1970s and find satisfaction, but the record that I have been rocking recently is 1977’s “Ask Rufus”, the mellowest of all their efforts, and a record that simply invites you in for a lazily wonderful swim in its warm waters. It features one of my favourite songs in the rich tapestry of “Magic in Your Eyes”, a beautiful and multi-layered song that lulls you into deep relaxation with its sumptuous strings and enveloping keyboards, not to mention a beautiful performance from Khan. The chorus is wonderful, the vocals and keys challenging each other to real heights. Never a spectacular show-stopper, it is simply a slow-burner that just melts me every time.

The only real up-tempo number is opener “At Midnight (My Love Will Lift You Up)”, an eminently catchy tune that boasts a ridiculous bass slap throughout, and demonstrates just how tight Rufus were. Tighter than tight. But it is on the rest of the album that this exemplary musicianship also gives rise to some really sophisticated work, with jazzy fringes, and mature textured constructions.

This is a really coherent album, a piece that you listen to in entirety as opposed to their previous work which were much more singles led. Chaka Khan sings wonderfully throughout, tender and soft in places, powerful and raw at others, but always demonstrating her impeccable control. There are few weak points and while the sometimes lush sound and contemplative subject matter may not be everyone’s cup of tea, it is an album that is ideal for sensual moments or long relaxing listens when in a more wistful mood.

Check the drums on the beautiful “Close the Door”, the merging of synch and vocals on “Better Days”, the interplay of bass and lead guitar on the exceptional “Everlasting Love”, the prescient sentiment and brilliant melodies expressed on “Hollywood”. All great tracks, and the perfect ingredients for a quiet storm of mellow funky soul. Ain’t nobody better, just ask Rufus.

It ain’t hard to tell

Hip-hop is, of course, synonymous with the creative use of a sample, the interpolation or straight repetition of a segment or whole of an old record to create a new one. But up until the early 1990s it was rare for other musical genres to follow suit. But the early 1990s was the era of New Jack Swing, of R’n’B mixing with the aesthetics of hip-hop and literally dominating the ‘urban’ side of the charts.

So it was perhaps inevitable that the use of other records for beats and melodies would soon make its way into R’n’B as well, and possibly the queen of these efforts is the monster 1993 cut from SWV, “Right Here (Human Nature Mix)”. Now I don’t think that the song has dated brilliantly, but there is no doubting that on release it was simply huge, and could be heard everywhere from the sweatiest underground dance floor, to the most commercial of radio shows. Not to say that it is not still very pleasing to the ear, and of course the spark of nostalgia still shivers the spine when it crops up unexpectedly, but it was its original context that is most significant.

For here was a time when new Jack Swing truly stood astride the world, and Teddy Riley and Babyface in particular as the key architects of this sound were its king and crowned prince. It was Riley who oversaw SWV’s production, and his masterstroke to take the average R’n’B song that “Right Here” started life as, and set it to the most hauntingly beautiful of Michael Jackson’s melodies, taken from the already brilliant “Thriller” ballad “Human Nature”.

There is much to be said about this song itself, including naturally Nas and Large Professor’s own interpretation a couple of years later on “It Ain’t Hard To Tell” (an infinitely better use to my mind), but it was SWV who shook up the world slightly with its first commercially significant application. Smooth and honey-dripped vocals slide over the equally buttery flow of the sample, and from the opening bars it is clear that the tune is an instant classic of its type. And instantly recognisable also, for who cannot pre-empt the “S (s), Double U (u) V (v)” vocal cut as the beat breaks in the intro.

What I never knew was that this famous little interlude was the voice of a very fresh Pharrell Williams, at the time something of a Riley protégé. But novelty facts aside, this tune was a template for the emergent softening of new jack into equally pop friendly R’n’B, and for that it deserves full props. Just don’t expect the video to impress in the same way. Now that truly is well past its sell-by-date, if indeed it was ever fresh in the first place.

Scopin’ out the honeys, they know who they are

I was listening to “The Low End Theory” for the umpteenth time recently, trying to break down what was my favourite tune on there. Impossible of course, but certainly one of the very best is one of the solo efforts, namely Phife Dawg’s peerless flow on “Butter”. Now I have always loved this song for a number of reasons, not least that fact that Phife’s lyrics are pure murderation and provide a flawless example of why he remains the component of A Tribe Called Quest that I have the most affection for. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t like I don’t love Tip and Shaheed, the legend of Jerobi, the combination of all of their talents in a beautiful whole. Hell, I’ll even like Consequence given the right conditions and a sunny day.

It would have to be very sunny though. But regardless, if I was pushed it would always be Phife’s raps that I would hold up as my ideals, particularly on the dual pinnacles of “The Low End Theory” and “Midnight Marauders”. I just love his bounce, his braggadocio, his seminal quips and phrases, and the smoothness of the flow. And of course “Butter” is an archetypal example of just why he is so revered, particularly verse 2. I mean, have you listened to verse 2 recently, the rhyme that begins with “I remember when girls were goody two shoes..” and goes on to lay down the heaviest diss onto girls who chase fame and fortune through celebrity baiting and aesthetically questionable means. Their own fault really because like the Dawg says, “If your eyes and hair were real, I wouldn’t have dissed ya, but since they were bought, I had to dismiss ya”. It is just an awesome rap, and even gives rise to the immortal line “Slum Village gold still dangling in your ear!”. Brilliant.

But the other reason why I love “Butter” is the beat, that most simplest and yet rich of productions, supported by the rolling drums and the chime like organ chords, almost flanged into a dream coda throughout, plus that mellowest of saxophone breaks on the chorus. But the real joy with this beat comes when you deconstruct it because here is a real example of the sum parts each being equal to the whole. The four tunes sampled are Gary Bartz’ “Gentle Smiles” for the sax, the Weather Report’s amazing “Young and Fine” for the intro and melodies, the under-rated Motown tenor Chuck Jackson’s “I Like Everything About You” providing the drums, and the Eighties Ladies “Turned On To You”.

I’m not even sure where the latter fits in to the mix, but am glad it is included because it is truly one of the best rare groove songs around, period. And the same is true of each one of these constituent blocks, they are all outstanding tunes and all worthy of our attention. It is easy to forget sometimes how hip-hop has created a musical genre based in part upon the sampling of others, and in doing so overlook the genius that comes with mining these beats and forging them into new and delightful forms. If you have ever spent time trying to do so yourself you’ll know how much of an art it is. And there were few better than A Tribe Called Quest. Their source material is truly inspired, and if you want to add to your collection you could do a lot worse than find a samples list from any one of their albums, arm yourself with the internet, and dig away to your heart’s content.

But their genius was really in the simplicity. They let the music that they find do the talking, seamlessly combined and with the bass and the drums to the fore and choice samples peppered throughout. Little else is needed, but with these sparse ingredients they constructed a masterpiece. Not no Parkay, not no margarine, strictly butter all the way.

Back to the Old School

We have spoken before about the genius of Kurtis Mantronik, a producer who literally changed the face of hip-hop and electronic music with his production skills throughout the mid to late 1980s. His work as creative and musical lead in his own Mantronix set-up is simply incredible and pretty much defines electro, that melding of the electronic funk of the likes of Kraftwerk and Afrika Bambaataa, and the new jack and early house music of Chicago, Detroit, New York and the UK. But it is his 1986 collaboration with New York’s original hardcore rapper Just-Ice that I want to focus on here, because once again it is a piece of work that was and still is an instant classic, and which set about re-defining the aural scope of hip-hop.

“Back to the Old School” was a revolutionary album, intended as a return to the raw power and street and party based aesthetic of early hip-hop, a reaction to the so-called second wave of rap lead by the likes of Run DMC and LL Cool J. It achieved this antidote to the times, but in doing so also created something of a golden era all of its own, a template for heavy beats and chopped up turntablism, for snapping snare, punching horn stabs, the biggest of bass, and pure Roland 909 madness. Mantronik’s beats are insane, generally slower than his usual fare, but highly innovative in their construction and manipulation.

Meanwhile Just-Ice, aka Sir Vicious, grumbles and gruffly asserts his aggression on the mic, holding no punches as he delivers rhyme after rhyme of what adds up to almost total menace. It should be remembered that such posturing and downright intimidation was rare in the fledgling years of rap, and it is with some justification that Ice is known as the original gangster, bringing the tales of his native Fort Greene, Brooklyn, and slamming them onto vinyl. The template for many an artist was set right there and then.

Album opener and stone cold classic “Cold Gettin’ Dumb” is of course the record’s instantly recognizable calling card, and remains incredibly powerful, a pure rush on every listen. Interestingly, the now famous changes of tempo throughout were the result of Mantronik failing to nail the beat, and Ice merely changing up his flow as and when the music required. The result is a seminal diss record that just kills the speakers every time and sounds like no other. But there is so much more also. Feel the incredible bass on “Little Bad Johnny”, an almost obscene boom flexed under one of the first dancehall inflections on a rap record.

Marvel at the frenetic aggression of “Put That Record Back On”, or the “Gangster of Hip-Hop”. Even the unappealing chauvinism of “Latoya” is sweetened by the speaker-blowing beats it swings to. From the brilliant graffiti cover by NY spray legends Gemini and Gnome, to the human beatbox of Cool DMX, the album is true old school excellence and deserving of its seminal status. Its influence may be understated, but is key to many strands of rap’s development, and if it sounds less revolutionary now that is because it set the shape of much that followed. Like the teeth that sparkle from Just-Ice’s grill, shaping his vicious verbal jabs, this record is solid gold.

Deadlier than Dracula

The movie tagline may be terrible, the title even more questionable, but despite initial appearances the 1972 blaxploitation movie “Blacula” does have a lot going for it. It is certainly a whole lot better than Eddie Murphy’s “Vampire In Brooklyn”, but perhaps that is a different debate because its merits as a movie are completely secondary to the fact that its soundtrack is absolutely first class. And also provides the missing link between the genius of the Walrus of Love Mr Barry White and blaxploitation cinema with a horror twist, that elusive connection you have all surely been dying to make all these years.

The link is in the form of the soundtrack composer Gene Page, the quite brilliantly prolific producer/composer/arranger whose work you will know even if you don’t immediately realise it. Because it is Gene Page who worked closely with White on many of the Love Unlimited Orchestra’s finest pieces, filling their rich sound with his wonderfully sculpted orchestration. In fact such is the breadth of Page’s work amongst popular artists from the late 1960s to his sad death in 1998 that it is virtually impossible to either categorise him, or do justice to his reach and influence in a concise manner. Suffice it to say that his work decorates over 200 gold and platinum records.

But it is Page’s solo work which has somehow drifted off the radar and which is hugely worthy of our attention. You can pick anyone of the five solo albums he released in the mid to late 1970s and not hit a duff note, but it is one of his first solo efforts, the “Blacula” soundtrack, which takes our attention here. This has become an absolute cult classic, and the key to this is in the creation of a raft of new sounds that Page developed to do justice to the aural picture that he was crating as a backdrop to this most over the top of films. Page, it is said and as unlikely as it sounds, immersed himself in the character of the film in order to develop the score, forging strange combinations of instruments and creating a soundtrack that in his own words spoke of love as well as terror.

Crystal glasses filled with different levels of water and vibrated to give a chilling eerie effect, marimbas, vibes, Yamaha organ, African water drums, harpsichord and the ARP synth all contributed to the sound in an orchestra certainly never seen before and probably never again since. He even patented some of the new sounds created, such were their freshness and importance to his vision. And the result is a soundtrack that is simply outstanding. If “Shaft” and “Superfly” are the widely known and widely regarded benchmarks, then “Blacula” is the third but often hidden element of a triumvirate of true excellence. In fact, you might say that it is scarily good, while I would just say to Gene Page, sincerely, fangs for the memory and for the music.