Garland

Garland's self-titled debut CD is a featured Lost in the Grooves release. Click here to sample the music or purchase.

Garland cover

Garland was recently selected by store staff for Amoeba Music's Homegrown series, where a a notable local act is promoted with in-store displays and ads in local papers. With their stunning vocals, shoegaze guitar shimmer and fragile electronic ballads, Garland's sound is rich, emotive and distinctively its own.

You can visit with Garland on MySpace here.

Garland live at Casa in downtown Los Angeles, December 2009

Juviley – How to Miss The Ground

Juviley's debut CD How to Miss The Ground is a featured Lost in the Grooves release. Click here to sample the music or purchase.

Juviley cover

Juviley is the project of Israeli musician Or Zubalsky, who toured widely with Israel's leading indie acts Shy Nobleman, Geva Alon, Daphna & The Cookies. At 21, he began writing his own songs, and revealed a tender, delicate sensibility far removed from the stereotypical dumb drummer. Inspired by the chamber pop of Brian Wilson, Nick Drake and Belle and Sebastian, on his debut album How To Miss The Ground Or plays nearly every instrument himself. With its heartbreaking simplicity, bittersweet melodies and thoughtful arrangements it creates a unique, dreamlike atmosphere. Once the record was completed, Or moved to New York City, where he plays regularly, in clubs and on the streets.

The critics love Juviley's How To Miss The Ground. Palebear muses, "I sort of needed this album to right my sanity… beautiful, pastoral… equal parts Kings of Convenience, Mojave 3 and Belle and Sebastian." And Caroline Leonardo says it's "an articulate collection of songs sure to warm your soul with pleasant melodies and story-like lyrics… an acoustic dream with the kind of tunes that'll lift your spirits during a rainy day… [it] is one of those rare debuts that carry a lot of clout. This well orchestrated album comes off gentle and well meaning without being pretentious or overbearing in the way that it's so simple and true. Indie pop has never sounded so good."

You can also visit with Juviley on MySpace.

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.

Simply Saucer

As stated before,

Hamilton, Ontario, Canada’s
one and only
Beefheart/Seeds/Floyd/Velvets-even
uber-amalgamation
(aka Simply Saucer)

have recently reformed, relaunched,
recorded and now actually released
their first “officialâ€Â album in, oh,
say three-and-a-half-decades or so,
give or take.

and
Said sounds can now be streamed,
sampled,
purchased,
and/or experienced fully live

by any and all
willing to leave preconceptions,
not to mention pigeonholes,
firmly in the half past.

Just be sure to tell ‘em
Gary Pig sentcha….

 

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!

Aeroplane is a Mojo Book of the Year

I'm awfully pleased to report that the Mojo Magazine readers poll for Book of the Year 2007 are in, and my oral history of Neutral Milk Hotel made it into the top 5!

And the winners are:

1. There's a Riot Going On – Peter Doggett

2. Bowie, Bolan and the Brooklyn Boy – Tony Visconti

3. Teenage – Jon Savage

4. Bit of a Blur – Alex James

5. 33 1/3: Neutral Milk Hotel – In The Aeroplane Over The Sea – Kim Cooper

Congrats to all the other authors (and what heady company, Bowie mainman Tony Visconti, sigh…), and thanks to Mojo's readers, always the sharpest rock fans in the drawer, for the support.

Arthur Lyman Twofer Heaven

This week, Collectors Choice releases a series of nine CDs compiling eighteen vintage Arthur Lyman exotica LPs in their bird-calling, fish-scraping, pupu-platter-clattering entirety. The liner notes were written by David Smay and myself (with a bio that appears on each disk, and notes for each release). We had fun debunking some of the mythologies that have long clung to this great exotic bandleader, and placing him in context as the true and eternally creative link between small combo jazz and lush island hotel pop. A couple of my favorite discoveries were the rocking version of "Windmills of Your Mind" from 1969's Winner's Circle and a sly bosso nova take on "Hawaiian War Chant" that appeared on the Cottonfields LP, but there's plenty of great stuff to hear on all of these bargain reissues. We hope they'll do something to rescue Arthur Lyman's reputation, which has too long huddled in the shadows of his one-time bandleader Martin Denny.

Check them out here.

Little Band Tate

Just a little bit about one of my very favorite record store finds. I feel they are very under appreciated and also feel you, as inquiring musical minds, should know about them as well.

So, here goes:

Eric Quincy Tate – self-titled
Atlantic/Cotillion/Rhino Handmade

Fans of Southern rock will no doubt want to check out Rhino Handmade’s reissue of the band Eric Quincy Tate’s eponymously named debut. It must be in the water as like another legendary Southern rock band (albeit one that achieved much more fame than the one whose album I am reviewing) who just happened to name themselves after a bastardization of their gym teacher Leonard Skinnerd’s lovely moniker, Eric Quincy Tate was actually a band, not a person, and had no members named Eric, Qunicy, or Tate. The name, however cryptic, really doesn’t matter much in this case, though. What matters is how a band this good only managed to make a mark regionally and never really broke out of the Southeast in terms of popularity. After listening to this album you will realize Eric Qunicy Tate blows most of the second-tier Southern Rock bands like Wet Willie and Sea Level out of the water and comes damn close to reaching the musical heights of the aforementioned king-of-them-all-y’all: Lynyrd Skynyrd!

The bandmembers met each other in the Naval reserves and were stationed in Quincy, MA, but later based themselves down South after forming the band. This was mostly because they were able to find a lot of gigs there, their sound more characteristic with what was happening in the deep South. Playing a lot in Texas near the Gulf Coast area, the band was eventually discovered by the Swamp King himself, Tony Joe White, who felt an affinity for the rocking blend of soul, blues and R&B the band was creating. White helped the band get signed to Capricorn records and produced this debut record, which vanished almost as soon as it was recorded, almost forgotten forever until the fine folks at Rhino realized the album compares favorably to White’s own classic Monument albums. Besides this disc, the band recorded two more albums before splitting up by the end of the ’70’s but none of their other albums came near the glorious heights of this one.

Filled with a greasy, swampy brand of rock, this album sounds a little different than just about everything else under the Southern Rock umbrella. Where most Southern Rock bands were mixing blues and rock, Eric Qunicy Tate decided to keep those elements and add generous helpings of Southern soul and country to their mix. By all accounts, the band could really rock and were excellent on their respective instruments, which makes it all the more surprising that most of the band didn’t even play on their own debut album! Somewhere along the line, executives at the band’s label decided to call in The Dixie Flyers, the house band from the reknowned Sounds of Memphis recording studio, and use them on the album instead. Seems the record company brass felt The Flyers, being established studio vets, would be able to accomplish recording the album a lot quicker than the inexperienced Eric Quincy Tate. To the record sompany, this move made more sense than giving free rein to untested talents. The cost of the recording would stay low and the band would jell together while promoting the album and later recordings could then be made by the actual band. Solid strategy – for a label. Disheartening as hell for a young band. Sad part is, it still happens frequently today. If you only knew how many debut albums by your favorite bands were loaded with studio ringers while the real members of the band watched from the wings, you would faint. Any debut album by a new band on a major label is loaded with ringers. They may not be credited, but they are there. Hell, as a guitar player in my youth, I was offered a chance to join the band of an up and coming recording artist on a big label. I listened to the demo and didn’t feel confident I could play the complicated parts, but was assured I would have my name on the album, be “taught” the parts by the studio whiz who actually played them, and be able to go on tour and become a full-fledged member of the band. I turned the job down (yeah, I’m an idiot) – but it happens a lot, believe me.

But, I have digressed. Let’s get back on topic.

It had to be disconcerting for the actual bandmembers of Eric Quincy Tate to show up at their first session and see all these heavyweights set up and ready to play and to be told they couldn’t play on their own debut. Singer/drummer Donnie McCormack and guitarist Tommy Carlisle were the only two members allowed to play on the album as they were the focal points of the band and also the two songwriters, but the rest of the band had to sit it out. The Memphis Horns also played on the album, but they were added later by overdub and were not present at the same sessions as the band. Though no one involved with the band can remember exactly who decided the band couldn’t play on it’s own record, the demos, alternate cuts and unreleased songs show a band more than capable of handling the job. These cuts feature a relaxed, loose, powerful Eric Quincy Tate who could hold their own with the best of their Southern Rock peers. Consider Eric Quincy Tate one of the best bands ever who ended up completely overlooked in favor of lesser talents.

Southern rock fans who have never heard of this band (or maybe had just forgotten them) are going to have an exciting time listening to this album. Not only will it be a revelation, but it will become an album to which you will return over and over again. The album manages to transcend the genre and show depth not usually associated with the mindless boogie most think of when broaching the subject of Southern Rock. Truly, Eric Quincy Tate wre something unto themselves and it’s a shame more people didn’t realize it at the time. Ah well, thanks to this reissue, there is still a chance for the band to get its’ due. Pick this up and have your preconcieved notions of good ole boy rock changed forever.

Lost In the Groovin’

When someone brings up the word “soul” pertaining to music, I immediately flash back to the first time I heard “Groovin'” by The (Young) Rascals. Let me tell you a little something: if you have not heard their stuff, you are missing out on some of the most soulful music you will ever hear. Some of you might remember the band from the mid-’60’s when they still had the word “Young” as part of their name (as they did when “Groovin'” became a hit) before they shed it in defiance of their record company like a snake shedding it’s old skin to become shiny and new again, just as they later shed their “pop band” persona to pursue some more esoteric groove-based music. But, sadly, if you remember the band at all you probably remember the band most as an “oldies” station staple thanks to their hits “You Better Run” (yeah, they did it way before Pat Benatar and way better, too, I might add), “It’s a Beautiful Morning”, the aforementioned “Groovin'”, “People Got To Be Free” and many, many others. Based around the swirling keyboards and soul-drenched vocals of Felix Cavaliere, the remaining members (vocalist/percussionist Eddie Brigati, guitarist Gene Cornish and drummer Dino Danelli) more than held their own.

While I find most people consider their music as part of the “rock” genre, I have always considered their some of the deepest soul music I have ever heard. Even before they started making concept albums towards the end of their career, their music was steeped in it, though in their early days it was more R&B based. Later on though, after they said screw off to pandering for hits, they could’ve given the Average White Band some lessons in cutting the cake. In fact, to my ears, their last two or three albums compete with classics like Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions and Marvin Gaye’s Hear, My Dear as latter-day soul masterpieces. But then, I have always heard the soul in their sound, right back to the day where their hit “Groovin'” dug its’ groove down deep into my soul. To listen as the band evolves from their R&B roots to their later sound is aurally mesmerizing and well worth whatever it takes to by their albums, especially since they have all recently been reissued.

But, back to “Groovin'”.

I first heard the song about ten years after it was first released when sitting around the dining room table at my brother Robert’s new house as he and his wife Marie unpacked their belongings and started to settle into their new environment. This was in January of 1977 and they had moved from their duplex apartment across town to a new place just across the street from where our parents lived. I was overjoyed as I idolized my older brother. He was a music freak and he had turned me into one as well. All my musical heroes like James Brown, Chuck Berry, Solomon Burke, Jimmy Reed and The Rolling Stones were recommended by my brother, who thankfully knew quality when he heard it. He once got me started on a major blues kick when he casually remarked one day that he liked B. B. King and Muddy Waters. Weird names to me, I started saving my allowance to buy any of their albums I could get my hands on. Muddy Waters? Is that near where the Howlin’ Wolves hang out?

Anyway, as I watched them set up their new house (and helped a little), eventually the record player was removed from the cardboard box used for the move and watched as it was set up on their silver-shiny metal entertainment center. Soon the albums were also unpacked as well as a large stack of 45’s I had given to my brother as a Christmas present a year before. I had acquired the vinyl booty at a garage sale from an older couple who noticed me salivating over all them and said I could have them for nothing. Of course, before I gave them to my brother I had made sure to take out the James Brown and Rolling Stones singles I wanted for myself. As my brother’s wife sat the box of singles on the table, he noticed them and thought it would be cool to play some. He asked his wife and I to pick whichever ones we wanted to hear. I had already taken out all the ones I knew and liked before giving them to him so I had no idea what any of them sounded like and, thus, deferred to his wife, who excitedly picked out The (Young) Rascals’ “Groovin'”. Not knowing the song or the band, I said to myself “whatever” and prepared to get back to helping my brother unpack.

The gentle sound of the bongos beating and the birds chirping immediately caught my ear as if someone had grabbed my head and twisted it Exorcist-like towards the speakers. Up to that point I could not remember a song with an introduction anywhere near as compelling. Then, as the song flowed, I knew I was hearing something special. Something that was about to change my life. It was nothing like any of the Top 40 hits I was used to hearing on the AM stations. It wasn’t a throwaway novelty or glammy, pop rock – it was pure soul, but not like the teen-pop Motown songs everyone else liked but that I felt were too obvious and dumbed-down. This shit was DEEP. This was a song filled with passion, love and heart – it seemed more mature and meaningful than most of the rock songs of the time that I was used to hearing. And I’ve later gone back and listened extensively to the music around when the song was a hit, and there’s not too much that can compare. It was a slice of life, made by those who seemed to have lived a little of one, unlike myself who was still in school and hoping to experience some of the things The Rascal’s lead singer Felix Cavaliere was singing in his song.

Though the song’s lyrical thrust was simple on the surface – being about the lead character spending a leisurely Sunday with his girlfriend – what the song implied was ten times more powerful than what it said outright. The song’s lead character and his girlfriend were deeply in love, led busy lives during the week and looked forward to their special time on Sunday afternoons when they could relax and be together. When you’re a kid and still trying to figure out where you belong, how and how much to love someone else, and how to act in a relationship – this was powerful stuff. Stuff that spoke volumes about what it was like to be an adult in a relationship. The song’s simplicity yet earnestness is the charm, its sense of giving so unalloyed. At it’s core the song is just a slice of life – but it implies much and says volumes to those just starting to really live. To me, this shows deep, deep soulfulness. Sure, the bass doesn’t make your booty feel like shaking and there ain’t a funky horn section led by Fred Wesley, but to me, this song and this band, epitomize what soul is about – deep relationships. Sure, later on I figured out “groovin'” could stand for “fucking” – I mean, check this lyric: “life could be ecstasy, you and me endlessly…groovin'” – but at that point what I thought it meant was just as important to me. Everything the Rascals were and what they became is forever captured in this song. The early innocense and the later explorations of soul and jazz. Though my other favorite part of The Rascal’s sound, Gene Cornish’s grinding rhythm guitar breaks, was absent in favor of a softer tone, everything you ever wanted to know about The Rascals is contained in this song.

The Rascals would eventually get out of the pop song business and explore full-on soul and jazz with their later albums. Rambling masterworks, these way experimental albums would embrace far-reaching concepts and themes far more mature than most “pop” acts, with the music always based on Cavaliere’s soulful keyboard work and husky vocals. Though the band broke up by 1974, the Rascals’ music still resonates today and provides many cool grooves to dance to, grooves I can listen to over and over now that the band’s long-neglected back catalog is available again.