El Camarón de la Isla con la colaboración especial de Paco de Lucía

El Camarón de la Isla con la colaboración especial de Paco de Lucía

Camarón de la IslaEl Camarón de la Isla con la colaboración especial de Paco de Lucía [AKA Al verte las flres lloran] Philips 5865 026 (1969)


This, the first of many collaborations between El Camarón de la Isla and Paco de Lucía, documents an already fruitful partnership.  de Lucía’s guitar is showy.  It begs for attention always.  Camarón sings in a way that cannot but help commanding attention.  Together, those somewhat disparate approaches go together sublimely.

The duo’s take on flamenco music was as groundbreaking a thing as possible under the Franco dictatorship.  The Wire magazine, in a feature entitled “100 Records That Set The World On Fire (While No One Was Listening)” (issue 175), said,

No one whose funeral was televised with thousands of people fainting over his coffin can really be described as neglected, but Camaron, the tormented duende of contemporary flamenco, is too little known outside Spain — and flamenco itself too little understood. Camaron helped restore the form’s rawness and authenticity after decades of operismo and Franco-inspired dumbing down, while his tousled, rebellious image appealed to the young.

Flamenco had long been a vital genre.  For instance, Niño Ricardo & La Niña de los Peines“Alegrias” is a classic from just before the Great Depression — mentioned in Michael Denning‘s Noise Uprising for its radical connotations (though “alegrías” is a palos or cantes [style], not really a distinctive song title as such).  The genre’s golden age ran up to about 1910-20, at which point the “opera flamenca” period began — brought on by preferential tax laws that gave “opera” performances in theaters a lower tax rate than other types of shows.  This theatrical style is disliked by some and considered very commercial.  Intellectuals tried to return the genre to its golden age roots from the early 20s, but the fascist Franco dictatorship changed all that.

Across the album there is a push-and-pull quality, as emphasis shifts subtle between de la Isla’s singing and de Lucía’s guitar playing.  Camarón regularly calls out, “Paco!”  This gets a bit tiresome, but it underscores the loose, “jam session” quality of the music — something entirely within the flamenco tradition.  The duo’s later work, like their fourth self-titled collaboration and Castillo de arena, is even better, in that it integrated the two performer’s abilities into something more unified and greater than the mere sum of its parts.  Still, this first meeting is great on its own terms, and, relatively speaking, perhaps one of the most “traditional”-sounding recordings they made together.

Miles Davis – Black Beauty: Miles Davis at Fillmore West

Black Beauty: Miles Davis at Fillmore West

Miles DavisBlack Beauty: Miles Davis at Fillmore West CBS/Sony SOPJ 39-40  (1973)


Good stuff.  Most if not all of this ranks among Miles’ best of the era.  Fans of Miles’ fusion period will find a lot to like here — though newcomers should perhaps proceed to Live-Evil and Agharta first.  This set sounds a lot harder and funkier than Bitches Brew, which came out around the time this set was recorded, though Black Beauty has a little more space than the denser material Miles would gravitate toward into the mid-Seventies.  Steve Grossman is the newbie in the band.  He wants to play as far out there as he can.  He is outclassed and in a bit over his head sometimes, but things still work out in the end.  Chick Corea is really the star here.  He’s a monster.  His nimble, distorted keyboards light up the set with some pretty intense workouts.  In many ways he fills out the group’s sound the way an electric guitarist like Pete Cosey would in later years.  At times his noisy, distorted keyboard makes this practically sound like experimental punk rock, crossed with European avant garde electronic composition.  Miles is relatively subdued by comparison.  He is almost off in the background much of the time, content to just nudge things one way or another from time to time.

To hear essentially the same lineup on a lot of the same material approximately one month earlier, with Wayne Shorter instead of Grossman on sax, try Live at the Fillmore East (March 7, 1970): It’s About That Time.  And to hear more from the next day and roughly two months later, try the crushing box set Miles at the Fillmore: The Bootleg Series Vol. 3 — which has some of the very best performances from a great period for Miles.  It seems like every minute Miles played on stage or in a studio in the early 1970s will eventually be released, and the world will be better off for it.  Black Beauty is a great one, and is particularly memorable thanks to Chick Corea.

Aretha Franklin – Aretha Arrives

Aretha Arrives

Aretha FranklinAretha Arrives Atlantic SD 8150 (1967)


Often viewed as an album rushed out by Atlantic Records to capitalize on the success of Aretha’s breakout (and still best) album I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You.  But, really, this is a very solid second-tier Franklin album.  It starts off inauspiciously with “Satisfaction” and “You Are My Sunshine.”  Some of the other songs feature adequate but rather uninspired string arrangements.  Yet “Never Let Me Go” is an effective and modern ballad, and “96 Tears” works pretty well even though a garage rock rave-up hardly would seem like a good song for Aretha to sing.  And, of course, the closer “Baby, I Love You” is one of the single best things Aretha ever did.

Stevie Wonder – Talking Book

Talking Book

Stevie WonderTalking Book Tamla T-319L (1972)


Two killer songs: “You Are the Sunshine of My Life” and “Superstition.”  Those are among the most memorable soul recordings of the early 1970s.  “I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)” is a good song too.  The rest?  Well, there is definitely a lot of pleasant filler, though some of this (“Big Brother,” “Blame It on the Sun”) is maybe even sub-par.  As full-length albums go, I find this one a bit overrated.  His next two are his best and the one before this is also better.  Still, it’s hard to beat those two killer songs!

Alice Cooper – Billion Dollar Babies

Billion Dollar Babies

Alice CooperBillion Dollar Babies Warner Bros. BS 2685 (1973)


I wanted this to be better than it really is.  On side one, in particular, the band seems a bit sluggish, even as the songs have much potential.  Side two picks things up some.  It opens with the hit “No More Mr. Nice Guy,” then goes on to include the admirably out-of-character piano ballad “Mary Ann” and concludes with one of the best songs, “I Love the Dead.”  On the whole, this is solid hard rock for the era, but it does seem like it could have been better.

Aretha Franklin – Soul ’69

Soul '69

Aretha FranklinSoul ’69 Atlantic SD 8212 (1969)


Soul ’69 is a good but not great album that seems a bit disappointing coming amidst of some of Aretha’s best.  One standout track is her version of The Miracles‘ “Tracks of My Tears.”  Her vocals are more gut-bucket than Smokey Robinson‘s light and airy singing on the original version.  The backing band, mostly veteran jazz players, understandably plays with a slightly jazzy inflection, but the band’s arrangement leans on a kitschy tropical/latin style.  Throwing those incongruous elements together surprisingly enough works.  “I’ll Never Be Free” is also one of Franklin’s better jazz-styled recordings.  The rest is all decent but not especially memorable.  As an aside, wouldn’t the utilitarian title Soul ’69 have an entirely different meaning if released a few years later on the heels of Marvin Gaye‘s Let’s Get It On (1973)?

Aretha Franklin – Spirit in the Dark

Spirit in the Dark

Aretha FranklinSpirit in the Dark Atlantic SD 8265 (1970)


Admittedly, Aretha has never been among my most favorite soul singers.  Don’t get me wrong, she is talented and all that.  But I think I have finally pinpointed why she never made the top of my favorites list.  Really, she was the epitome of liberal compromise in the late 1960s.  She represented an ultimately quite fragile meeting of southern and northern elements.  Her early career saw her trying to be a jazz singer of sorts, and she was never more than mediocre in that genre.  That embodied her pretensions to “northern” culture, presumptively “sophisticated” (something akin to the impossibility of working-class achievement).  When her career really took off, she was melding smooth, urban northern music — epitomized by being on Atlantic Records, headquartered in New York City — with southern soul out of the Otis Redding school, mediated by secularized gospel phrasing.  If it is unclear why this translates into liberalism, the fact that she performed at both President Barack Obama’s inauguration in 2009 and President Bill Clinton’s inauguration in 1993 is all the confirmation required.  Aretha invokes precisely the sort of “good on paper” liberal aspirations of Obama and Clinton, as a calculated invocation of movements and sub-genre styles already in existence to lay claim to some kind of triangulated coalition.  For more circumstantial evidence, look to the way Malcolm X broke away from Aretha’s conservative-liberal father (Rev C.L. Franklin) in the mid-1960s precisely over the issue of compromise/collaboration — Malcolm labeled him a “clown”.  I called this sort of liberal compromise “fragile” for good reason.  Look at Aretha’s albums during her prime years on Atlantic and they are quite uneven.  Some are clearly trying too hard to make obscure connections.  The semi-flops (This Girl’s In Love With You) reveal how dependent she was on arrangements.  Either Aretha had no sense when it came to putting together records, succeeding largely by dumb luck, or, more likely, she had little say in making albums or (most likely) was too easily convinced to engage in calculated appeals to “cross-over” demographics (“hey, do a version of this song that [insert social demographic here] is sure to like!”).

Spirit in the Dark from 1970 reflected changing times.  Black militancy was peaking, but there were simultaneous efforts to accommodate establishment interests in exchange for favored status granted to a few token minority representatives.  Which way would Aretha go?  Eventually, it would be the latter.  But on Spirit in the Dark she tried to stake out a middle ground.  While her very best albums (I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You, Lady Soul) have a deep sound, with prominent bass, organ, and horn sections anchored by saxophones, here the instruments behind her are much more of mid-range pitches.  There is a lot of guitar, sometimes with a slight psychedelic edge.  The bass is brighter than usual.  Sporadic use of organ is buried in the mix, and tends toward higher-pitched stabs.  The backing vocals are very orderly, sort-of “proper”, but still with a bit of homespun charm (read: imprecise coordination/synchronization).  Gospel techniques are readily deployed, with a very, very light touch.  Most importantly, though, Aretha really tries to belt things out when she sings, reaching rather than staying in a familiar comfort zone.  “One Way Ticket” is a great example of that.  I usually object to calling Aretha a powerful singer, because she drew a lot from gospel where powerful singers are called “housewreckers”.  Put Aretha next to gospel icon Mahalia Jackson (perhaps the closest comparison in tone) and no one would point to Aretha as the more powerful singer.  But purely on her own terms, Aretha does sing powerfully here.

Opinion is somewhat divided on this album.  Fans of her late-1960s records sometimes see this as falling off in quality, if still a very good record.  Others name this as one of her finest.  To me, this is the last gasp of her relevance and up there with her best.  This is one of the very last (chronologically speaking) southern soul album of note.  In just a few short years, with a few notable exceptions like Al Green that prove the rule, almost everything would be “retro” or “neo” southern soul, lacking the kind of authenticity still present here — something cemented by the collapse of Stax Records in the near future.  Granted, that authentic sound is hedged against what were clearly changing times, but that is partly why the authenticity remains.  (Contrast Sly & The Family Stone‘s Heard Ya Missed Me, Well I’m Back, which might be a good example of a fake and inauthentic invocation of the past, ignoring changing circumstance).  With Young, Gifted and Black Aretha would throw her lot in with what became known as “identity politics” — a kind of anti-politics based around fear of making offense — then Hey Now Hey (The Other Side of the Sky) would push her firmly into the gutter of commercial pandering from which she would scarcely escape.  But here, Aretha makes an effort to change in order to stay the same.  In other words, she adapts to the times in order to try to preserve a little something of the spark that made her very best stuff from the 60s great.

Sunbirds – Sunbirds

Sunbirds

SunbirdsSunbirds BASF 2021110-2 (1971)


Overlooked debut album from the German jazz fusion outfit Sunbirds.  They take on the kind of early 1970s fusion pursued by Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, and — maybe the closest comparison — Donald Byrd.  Nothing strikingly original here, but this is really well played stuff with a laid-back, almost psychedelic vibe.  It can rub shoulders with all the better fusion recordings of the era.