Category: James Brown

From All Over The World

Attention, Lost Groovers everywhere:

Your assignment today is to gather together in one medium-sized concert facility, for one evening only, one dozen of the world’s most popular entertainers. Age, style, size, corporate affiliation and particularly musical pigeonhole is to be strictly of no concern whatsoever. Each act just has to have had a heck of a lot of their songs downloaded, perhaps maybe even sold, over the past calendar year or so.

Then, with a bare minimum of rehearsal or directorial guidelines of any sort – and an equally bare-boned budget to boot – a two-hour concert has to sequenced, scored, choreographed and executed upon a single stage utilizing all these chosen singers, dancers and accompanists, the entire proceedings recorded and video’d completely live, music and vocals, without re-takes, and the resultant miles of tape then edited, printed, promoted and distributed for public viewing into theatres.

Oh. And this all has to be completed within the period of a mere fourteen days, from show-date to release-date, by the way.

Finished laughing? Of course in a 21st century scheme of things such an endeavor would scarcely get past the imagining stage I agree, quickly dismissed out-of-hand (not to mention out-of-mind) as completely unfeasible; one legal, logistical – not to mention ego-tistical – nightmare of gargantuan proportions.

But, in that strange and distant galaxy known as The Sixties, where anything seemed possible, everything was tried at least once, and “noâ€Â was a word only uttered when speaking to people over thirty, undertakings of such grand socio-musical import were thought no more impractical than, say, making orange juice out of freeze-dried crystals then flying with them all the way to the moon and back.

What is hard to believe, however, is that one such concert event filmed inside the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium on the night of October 29, 1964 in front of a few hundred local high school students should not only survive to be released on DVD, but that its one hundred and twelve monochrome minutes remain as utterly entertaining, and downright engrossing, all these forty-five years later.

The TAMI Show: Collector’s Edition, now finally available from our friends over at Shout! Factory is, you see, simply so, so much more than merely Monterey Pop without the lysergic, Woodstock without the mudslides or, yes, Altamont minus pool cues and homicide victims. True, one could consider this film as “justâ€Â the single most frantically paced, ultra-high-decibel time capsule of an extraordinary era ever preserved on disc. Or even, as Quentin Tarantino most assuredly claims, “in the top three of all rock movies.â€Â

I will go all that one further, however: The TAMI Show (as in Teenage Awards Music International, by the way) is absolutely essential viewing to anyone and everyone who consider themselves fans, followers, and/or students of popular music.

Period.

Allow me to elaborate. The dozen acts, co-hosts Jan and Dean sing whilst skateboarding across the opening credits, did indeed come “From All Over The World.â€Â Not to mention everywhere across the musical map as well: Kicked off by “the guy who started it allâ€Â as Jan (no relation) Berry announces, Chuck Berry duck-walks us all the way from St. Louis to New York City, where the about-to-be- renovated Brill Building sound is sung most proudly and loudly by none other than Lesley Gore (whose proto-feminist lyrics and attitude herein should have all you brand new Runaways fans repositioning the birth of grrrl-rock once and for all).

The magnificent Motor City is then represented by Smokey Robinson – pay particular attention to his Miracles’ dance-steps during “Mickey’s Monkeyâ€Â – along with superstars-in-waiting Marvin Gaye (who performs two songs soon to be recorded by a waiting-in-the-wings Rolling Stones) and The Supremes (poised to leave behind forever their branding as “those no-hit Supremesâ€Â with an historic string of global million-sellers). Meanwhile, England swings Santa Monica via Billy J. Kramer with his Dakotas plus Gerry and the Pacemakers (…four of impresario Brian Epstein’s other clients unfortunately occupied overseas at this point in time, putting finishing touches onto Beatles For Sale it seems).

Why, even what we now know and love as that runt of the musical litter, Garage Rock, is represented by none other than the aptly-named Barbarians and their, I kid you not, one-handed drummist Victor “Moultyâ€Â Moulton. Plus special note must here be made of The Beach Boys’ four-song set, propelled practically through the roof by their drummer Dennis, as this particular footage was removed from most every existing print of The TAMI Show soon after release and has only now been fully reinstated in all its harmony-drenched, sun-kissed, Surf City splendor.

And then! As impossible to pin down geographically – not to mention musically or even vocally – as he remained for the rest of his career comes the one, the only, the hardest- working James Brown.

Now it’s been said before, but I’ll just have to say it again (and again and again): His performance in The TAMI Show remains one of the most jaw-dropping, above-kinetic, gut-and-thigh-ripping performances ever executed. EVER. Anytime, any place, by any one. Everything you may have heard about this man and these particular eighteen minutes (e.g., “the single greatest rock ‘n’ roll performance ever captured on filmâ€Â: Rick Rubin) is absolutely, one-thousand-per-cent true. Just look at it yourself if you don’t believe me …or everyone else who has ever seen it.

Somehow, those newly-rolling, original Stones – with Brian Jones and even Bill Wyman’s vocal mic present – arose to the task of following Butane James that fateful night, and their performance closed the event, and the film, with a mixture of pure, simply pimply beat ‘n’ soul which wins over even many of the pole-axed teens who’d just survived James Brown’s set.

Finally, cue the entire cast and assembled dancers (watch closely for a very young Teri Garr!) back onstage to frug a mighty big storm up around Jagger and Richard(s) and, scarcely two hours after it all began, the curtain drops.

So, just another night of music, mayhem, and undeniable magic out in L.A. during the fall of ’64, right? But what novice director Steve Binder and his crew captured, and what today is immaculately preserved upon The TAMI Show DVD, is busting-full of rich musical (I repeat: James Brown) and cinematic (Diana Ross’ eyes literally filling the screen during “Where Did Our Love Goâ€Â) moments which have been oft-shot by everyone from Pennebaker to Scorcese since, but never truly duplicated. For what TAMI managed to mount and maintain all those years ago irrefutably remains the highest of bars for concert events, and films thereof, to reach even today.

It may, sorrowfully, have taken nearly half a century to make it into our homes, but this film has not returned anew one single frame, nor scream, too soon.

Trust me:

You have never seen, nor heard, ANYTHING quite like this before…..

 

No Sly Stone Left Unturned

One of the greatest funk artists of all time got a reissue set last year which finally justified his greatness. Though he has been a non-entity in the music world for many years, the music he created has endured and rightfully reveals him as one of the most talented, revolutionary artists ever to create music.

Sly and The Family Stone – The Collection
Columbia/Legacy

One of the most talented and eccentric performers in music gets his back catalog re-issued after years of fans begging the record company to give Stone’s work some attention. Thankfully, Columbia finally heard the din and decided to put a great amount of effort into doing this music justice. Not only does this set include all seven albums Stone and band recorded for the label (with added bonus tracks and great restored cover art for each CD) the job done on remastering is nothing short of excellent. The songs sound as bright and fresh as they did upon each album’s individual release. Though he only produced seven albums during his most fruitful period, these albums can be stacked up against anything else produced in the ’60’s (or beyond) and will compare favorably.

A Whole New Thing is the title of the aggregation’s debut but this album isn’t really a whole new thing at all, though signs of Stone’s future funk are evident. For the most part this album shows the band still plying a more traditional R&B style, albeit with some slight sonic innovations. It is in the lyrics where Stone’s genius pokes through as the topics are not your usual straight soul fare and delve into a few goofier places than the norm. Sounding more restrained than they would on later efforts, Stone’s band is funky and tight, but not nearly as tight or funky as they would become. Some rock touches give the feeling something different is happening, but it is not enough to rank this among Stone’s best. While a promising start, this album does not show enough of what made Stone and his group great. Luckily, those qualities would show up on later albums.

The band’s next album, Dance To The Music, not only provided the band’s first hit with the title track but also showed the band coming into it’s own. With an incredible feeling of joy and exuberance saturating the album, it is almost impossible not to get sucked into the spirit of the band. Though not really a classic album, it is hard to resist the band’s charms and what they brought to the popular music table. Remember, this is probably the first album ever made where the sunshiney-psychedelic feelings of the rock music at the time was mixed with pure soul music to create something totally different than anything that had come before. Everything, from the inventive arrangements to the sparking melodies and the hyped-up rhythms was fresh and new – and sounded that way. This, incredibly, is not the band’s best, but it is a damn fine album nonetheless.

The Family Stone’s third release, Life, came just a few months after Dance To The Music and features heavier, more psychedelic arrangements and much fuzzier guitars than it’s predecessor. Though there were no big hit singles from the album, the growth between the two releases is almost immeasurable. The songs show an accomplishment in songcraft that is astounding given the short time between the albums. Each song is a tight slab of funk perfection all its’ own, showing a seamless blending of instruments and vocals more intricate than all get out, yet still retaining a funky-dance feel. Instead of meaningless jams, Stone steered this album toward making each song a piece of genius. He succeeded mightily.

Stand comes next, and if listeners had thought Sly Stone and his band of funkateers had reached their pinnacle with Life, they were in for a rude awakening. Stand takes everything the band had perfected up to this point and raises it to another level. Not only does the band have an unmatched interplay, but the band’s increasingly deep psychedelic touches and effervescent melodies take the songs on sonic explorations previously unknown. Stone’s genre-blending innovations manage to blur all previous stylistic lines seperating various types of music and spurs the band to create an innovative sound all of it’s own. Added to the mix is an irrepressible social conciousness Stone would develop and expand upon on future albums. The title track, though, is a first example of the kind of social awareness Stone would soon bring to all of his music and is a standout, along with “Everyday People” and “I Want To Take You Higher.” This album is beyond great. It is a life-changing album to say the least.

There’s A Riot Going On is the beginning of a change in Stone’s music, and marks a change in mood for the band. Where the band’s previous albums were so upbeat you couldn’t help but smile while listening to them, this album marks a downturn in Stone’s mood as he seems to have become very jaded within a relatively short time span. While some have attributed the mood switch to Stone’s increasing drug problems, that is too simple an answer. What we have here is an album almost totally devoid of the pure joy found in the band’s previous works. Stone seems disgusted by all of the social unrest going on in the world at the time and seems intent on voicing his frustration in a series of songs that can only be called disturbing. While still immensely funky, there is a disconcerting level of depression and disappointment evident in everything Sly does on this album. Whatever had him, be it drugs or band pressures, he let it get the best of him on this disc. Not as bad album, mind you, just more bleak compared to Stone’s earlier efforts.

The band’s next album, Fresh, makes a move back to the fun of Stone’s earlier efforts, though it isn’t a total return to his previous form. A modicum of the joy is back in Stone’s music, however, and while traces of the dark cynicism pervading the band’s last album remains, Stone seems to have found some of his smile. The good humor is tempered by Stone’s remaining bitterness at the world’s ills, a fact the music on this album can never quite overcome. The difference here is Stone seems not to be as resigned to the world’s social problems and let’s a bit of hope seep through, though not much. Still, the funk here is really hot and this is considered Stone’s last great album.

The last album included on this set, Small Talk, is his weakest, mostly due to personnel problems in the Family Stone and changes within his own life including his marriage and the birth of his child. For the first time, Stone sounds tired instead of inspired, exurberant or angry. In fact, Stone sounds disinterested, although the album does have a few strong cuts. For the most part, this album is for fans only and is the last album containing any of the Sly Stone sound people associate with his music. From here on, even though he recorded other albums for other labels, Stone’s career went downhill and from listening to this album it is easy to see the inevitable coming. The song “Time For Livin'” is the standout cut on this album.

Fans of deep funk are just going to salivate all over themselves after checking out this great 7 CD box of some of the greatest booty-shaking tracks ever. Let’s face it – my reviews are loaded with hyperbole. I bathe in hyperbole and eat hyperbole crunch cereal for breakfast, okay? This is the one time – one time, dammit – that every thing I write is the total fucking truth. This is one of the greatest collection of funk tracks ever gathered on seven CDs. The craziest thing about it is one man is responsible for all of it! God bless you, Sly Stone. May you some day come back to us with your talent intact and ready to make great music again. There’s a light on in the window, Sly. Please come home.

Give ’em the Bootsy, Baby!

Here’s some more deep funk! Get to dancin’!

Bootsy Collins – Stretchin’ Out In Bootsy’s Rubber Band
Bootsy Collins – This Boot Is Made For Fonkin’
Bootsy Collins – Ultra Wave
Bootsy Collins – The One Giveth, The Count Taketh Away
Collector’s Choice Music

It’s Bootsy baby! The Master of the Space Bass is once again in the forefront of everybody’s fonkin’ mind thanks to a passel of reissues from the funkateers at Collector’s Choice and thank god! Whenever and wherever a party is reaching it’s apex of fun, you can bet Bootsy’s music is on the CD player or turntable, or at least, it should be. You can’t really have a party without some of Bootsy’s butt-swinging funk, and that’s the stone cold truth.

William “Bootsy” Collins first made a name for himself as part of the Godfather of Soul James Brown’s band back in the late ’60’s/early ’70’s. Brown had just made a huge changeup in his career by switching labels from his longtime home at King Records to an upstart label wanting to make a name for itself called Polydor. At the time, Polydor was a major player in other countries but wanted to start becoming a force as a label in the US. Who better to sign than the king of funk himself James Brown? So when they did, Brown took the label change as a sign of maybe switching up his style. He fired his old backing band The Famous Flames (keeping longstanding friend and running buddy Bobby Byrd and a couple of others) and decided to move away from proper songs and investigate the power of the one-chord-vamp repeated over and over, trancelike, until a person’s body just couldn’t resist the power of the groove. In doing that, Brown knew he needed to grab a bunch of young turks to create the energy necessary to sustain and work the deep grooves he was looking for.

Enter Bootsy and his brother Phelps “Catfish” Collins, who were leaders of a band named The Pacesetters. “Catfish” was an excellent funk guitar player and between his inspired guitar licks and Bootsy’s beyond funky bass-playing, Brown started finding the groove he was looking for and started cutting some incendiary, funky sides unlike anything created before. Though Bootsy and his brother were only in Brown’s band for roughly two years from 1969-1971, many ground breaking strides were made in Brown’s music during this time and the invention of funk itself (which most musicologists concede Brown invented with help from his new band) can be traced directly to this time period and Brown’s stellar band of young funk turks’ playing on such songs as “Sex Machine” and “Superbad”. After Bootsy left Brown’s band due to Brown’s dictator-like leadership (always old-school, Brown employed a much-maligned system of fining band members for issues such as lateness, cleanliness of wardrobe, missed cues onstage and drug use – something particularly ironic considering Brown’s later problems with drugs) the man later known as Casper, Bootzilla and a host of other noms de fonk depending on the album hooked up with another funk kingpin by the name of George Clinton. Founder of the Parliaments who had a hit in the late ’60’s with “(I Just Wanna) Testify”, Clinton had studied Brown’s example and began to take Brown’s ideas and advance them into a whole new realm. An extremely smart and savvy businessman, he knew Bootsy would be a great addition to his band. Soon, hit songs for Clinton’s many aggregations would have the name W. Collins on the writer’s credits and Bootsy was gaining some influence as being one of the gems in Clinton’s funk crown.

Collector’s Choice, as part of their ongoing mission to reissue the best overlooked music ever created, has cherry-picked the best of Bootsy’s solo albums to reissue. Originally just one of many side projects for Clinton and the members of the Parliafunkadelicment Thang, Bootsy’s fun-filled funky grooves proved irresistable and soon became the most popular offshoot of the band and rivalled Clinton himself in popularity.

First in this set of four CD reissues is Bootsy’s first solo album, Stretchin’ Out, and it is a doozy. Introducing Bootsy as a solo performer to a Bootzilla-hungry funk world, the album shows the self-proclaimed Thumpasaurus Rex for what he is: a good-humored joker who wasn’t afraid to bring a sense of light-heartedness to some of the most bootylicious funk ever imagined. His distinctive vocals and wobbly space-bass sound (not to mention his considerable stage presence – with his spandex, sky-higth boots and other-worldly basses he cut quite a figure onstage) gave Bootsy a persona you couldn’t create in a marketing meeting, and he was doing it naturally with the flair of a rockstar even before Kiss had started donning their wild costumes. Combine that with the tightness of the P-Funk band with even more JB refugees on board like Fred Wesley and Maceo Parker (Clinton would dub them the Horny Horns) and the plan for funky world domination was fool proof. As expected, this album is fantastic, and equal in every way to any P-Funk album put out during this same time period. These songs kick ass and it is simply impossible not to get into the good time groove on this album. It sounds like the players are having a blast which accounts for the sheer joy present in this album’s grooves.

The next album chronologically in Collector’s Choice’ reissues of Bootsy’s work is This Boot is Made For Fonk’n and it came after Bootsy had several hits on the charts from albums not included in this set of reissues. Though any project Clinton touched during this time period (And there were plenty of them: albums from Parliament, Funkadelic, Parlet, Brides of Funkenstein, The Horny Horns and several other off-shoots were released during this time and all were given tons of publicity by the press and most did decently on the charts.) did well, few expected Bootsy to become the best-selling act of all of the side-projects Clinton was involved in, not that it mattered too much. To be in P-Funk meant being included in every project you could get your musical ass in on. In the liner notes to this album Bootsy remembers recording several projects at the same time, a typical day maybe first doing a song for his own album, then maybe a Parlet song, then a Brides of Funkenstein jam, etc. At times he wasn’t sure which album a song would wind up on, not that you would notice any disjointedness on a Bootsy album, as they’re too much fun to worry about little things like that. Despite there being no steady theme to any of his discs, as long as his distinctive vocals and bass playing were at the forefront, the music worked and this album, like most of Bootsy’s work, sounds like a good time was had by all in the studio, a characteristic palpable in the music, which almost commands you to dance and have a good time. Once again, you cannot listen to this album and not have a good time. This is a killer funk album.

Ultra Wave comes next, and is credited solely to Bootsy as he had lost the rights to the name “The Rubber Band” and was beginning to have troubles with Warner Brothers regarding promotion of his albums. Inside jokes regarding money and expectations of the business are found everywhere from the lyrics to cryptic statements in the liner notes. Though it is actually a fine album, it’s lack of chart success and the fact so few have heard it have left the impression the quality is lacking. While it cannot be called Bootsy’s best, there are several fine funk numbers here and is well worth the money spent. The opening song “Mug Push” is pure Bootzilla and is a highlight, but there are other great songs as well. This album is an overlooked gem and funk fans need to explore this fully as there are plenty of deep, deep grooves worthy of attention on this disc.

The last reissue of this four album set is also the last album Bootsy made for Warner Brothers, The One Giveth, The Count Taketh Away. The title is a subtle play on words for James Brown’s (and to a lesser extent Clinton’s) innovations in funk – in other words, to start playing on the “one”. That particular musical device had netted Brown, Clinton, Bootsy and a host of other lesser funkmeisters plenty of money during the ’70’s for sure, and it undoubtedly seemed fair to Bootsy to work it into the title. “The Count” is no doubt a Bootsy-style sly reference to his label and the amount of money he was receiving, or the lack thereof, “the count” being off in Bootsy’s opinion no doubt. While the bloom was off Bootsy’s rose by this point and he seemed to be relying too much on older formulas that seemed a little tired, there is plenty of Bootsy’s fun funk on this album and, like Ultra Wave, is worthy of both re-examination and the cost of admission.

Anyone interested in funk and soul music needs to have these albums as part of their collection if they don’t already. Sure, these albums are little more than mindless booty-shaking funk. But let me ask you, is there anything wrong with that? Music was created as much to dance to as to convey a serious message and anything that helps a person forget his troubles and dance is worthwhile. For those who would consider the work of Bootsy and others of the time as simply unimportant jams is missing out on some of the most energetic, inspired dance music ever. Still steadily working on album projects and soundtracks, it is no insult that Bootsy is now more known as an icon of 70’s funk than a viable chart-topping artist. The rarified air of the icon is something to admire and Bootsy no doubt relishes his experience of being one of the most remembered funk stars ever, rivalling former bosses Brown and Clinton themselves in popularity and influence. The thing is, Bootsy’s music stands the test of time like his bosses. Few artists can say that. Whenever there’s a party, there is or should be Bootsy. It’s as simple as that. Try to listen to this stuff and not dance. I fucking dare you.

Betty Davis’ Thighs

Nothing like some great obscure soul to get your body moving.

Betty Davis – Betty Davis
Betty Davis – They Say I’m Different
Light In the Attic

Stand up and shout hallelujah! Two of the greatest lost soul albums of the ’70’s have finally been reissued after way too many years out of print. Kudos to Light In The Attic for digging up these great albums and allowing the world to once again enjoy the unfettered funk of the sultry, sexy, flamboyant and raw Betty Davis! Of course, with all of the great soul and funk sides being re-released these days (as well as the classics we all know about) one would be forgiven for thinking I might be heaping undue hyperbole on these albums. Suffice it to say, one listen to these albums by the great Davis would erase all doubt. Don’t know who Betty Davis is? It’s no wonder, as these albums were put out on a tiny label and hardly promoted at all due to the semi-raunchy material contained within. But, let’s not confuse matters by blaming circumstances beyond anyone’s control. These two albums are some of the rawest, greasiest, greatest funk ever released and stand toe-to-toe with anything James Brown, Sly Stone or the P-Funk army released at the time.

Davis (nee Betty Mabry) was born in a small town in North Carolina but her family eventuallly moved up north to Pittsburgh, though she later moved to New York City by the early ’60’s. It was there that she began exposing herself to all the cutting edge music the ’60’s had to offer, from jazz to avant-garde to rock. Working for a time as a model, Davis slowly became part of the music scene, first by working at the hippest clubs, then by cutting a few singles, and finally by becoming a songwriter, scoring a hit song (“Uptown”) for the Chambers Brothers. Her talent and beauty placed her in the midst of the hipster circles where she eventually met and married Miles Davis and began influencing his career and persona in surprising ways right down to the clothes he wore. Introducing him to the music of Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone and other artists on the cutting edge of funk and rock (in some cases arranging meetings between the artists themselves) she began working with and inspiring her husband to craft albums melding funk, rock and jazz. These albums eventually became In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew (which Miles named in honor of his wife) and became milestone works in the world of jazz, influencing and inspiring much of the jazz fusion which followed. A long union was not to be, however, as Miles soon divorced his wife because he found her too intense and suspected her of carrying on an affair with Jimi Hendrix. She soon drifted to England where she began to get caught up in the heavy rock scene, briefly dating Eric Clapton (who wanted to work with her on an album but was rebuffed by Davis as being too blues-oriented – the relationship imploded soon thereafter) and a member of Santana’s band. Upon returning to the US, she decided to take the ideas she had been formulating and presenting to labels for bands like The Commodores (yep, she worked with Lionel Ritchie before he became famous – Miss Davis seemed to be everywhere during this time period) and turn them into vehicles for herself. Signing a contract with a little upstart label, she began recording her first album.

The self titled album Betty Davis (1973) was and is a milestone release. While countless female soul artists had released albums, no other female artist had such frank and overt sexual material on an album before Davis and had so obviously controlled the proceedings as she had. It was as if Davis was trying to position herself as a female version of George Clinton. For a comparison, think Millie Jackson (or, better yet, Tina Turner) dressed in a spacesuit and then add some searing P-Funk guitars and some thunderously booty-shaking beats to go with the very sexually risque lyrics. Featuring musical talent from Sly Stone’s band (including bassist Larry Graham), Michael Carabello and an incredibly young Neal Schon from Santana, background vocals from the Pointer Sisters, and members of the Tower of Power horn section, the album was stacked to the hilt with the best musicians of the era. Featuring songs such as “If I’m In Luck I Might Get Picked Up” and “Game Is My Middle Name”, Davis left no doubt she was freaky-deaky and ready for anything. Sadly, Davis wasn’t quite ready for one thing: her album to bomb. While containing no cusswords, Davis’ lyrics left little to the imagination. Consequently, her album got little airplay and her concerts were often picketed.

Disappointed but not deterred by the poor sales of her debut, Davis released her next album, They Say I’m Different, a year later with a different cast of musicians than her first groundbreaking release. Gone were the big names and studio ringers of her debut, replaced with younger, newer players who had been raised on the funk sounds of the artists she was trying to emulate and, more likely, dethrone so she could take her rightful place on top of the funk heap. Not surprisingly, these young turks were more than up to the challange and manage to at least equal (if not better) the deep, deep funk displayed on her debut. Featuring the songs “Shoo-Be-Doop and Cop Him” and “He Was A Big Freak” Davis once again challenged listners and censors with her raw sexual appetites and her willingness to sing about them. The cover features her in an outfit straight from the P-Funk Mothership and seems to be a distant cousin of the outfit Cher wore on her Take Me Home album of the late ’70’s. Once again, radio stations refused to play her music and angry protestors made their presence felt at her now-infrequent live appearances. It seems the world was not ready for a sexually charged, talented young black female to tear the roof off the sucka. Davis released one more album (entitled Nasty Gal) to the same public apathy as her discs before abandoning the music scene forever and moving back to Pittsburgh. Tired of her music being ignored, Davis never recorded again. An album consisting of outtakes from her third album was issued after Davis “retirement” but, like her other albums, it made pretty much no impact save for a small but devout coterie of followers, DJ’s and beatheads who know great music when they hear it. A greatst hits compilation was also released, but quickly deleted.

Fans of funk need these albums in their collections. It isn’t an issue of “wanting” these reissues – if you are a fan of funk and soul music these are albums you simply have to acquire or settle for having a mediocre collection. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Then rush to your local store and order this right away. You will not be sorry – this is some of the most blazing funk of all time!