Tag Archives: r&b

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RS 439 – Sam Cooke: Live at the Harlem Square Club (1963)

It is funny how stuff slips through the cracks once you are no longer the youngest generation in your dwelling.  As the tiny despot flails her kung fu grip hands in rage at her loyal subjects, a weary, exhausted feeling sets over, and things like blog posts slip by the wayside a bit.  Of course, as exhausting as she is, the tiny despot inspires love, affection and even admiration – I imagine this is what being an Argentinian during Eva Peron’s time must have been like – at least if Evita lived with us and did not have control of her bowels.  All of this is a long way of saying that looking at the last several posts we have been mostly stuck with breaking down football weeks – and all of this during the rather amazing wide open baseball postseason.  Indeed, the football material won’t cease, but there is certainly more to life than that.

For instance, one of the side pursuits has been starting to peruse the Rolling Stone 500 for album ideas and start documenting the journey.  I started looking at doing it in order, but that bored me, and besides, the exercise is less to argue with Rolling Stone‘s rankings than simply to examine a cross section of work that is allegedly good.  It’s the same sort of instinct that keeps Ulysses high on my “next to read” list despite the almost certain assurance that I will never get to it.  But still, 500 albums is easier to kick around than 100 books (or for that matter one bad book), so lucky me.

Why start with a live album by a guy who Rod Stewart has spent most of his career trying to emulate?  I am not sure exactly, although one night I found myself in a live album kick – partially while the tiny despot had not retired for the night, or was it the morning; I can hardly tell anymore.  Sam Cooke came from a gospel background and ended up being one of the seminal early voices of rock and roll and R&B – and in listening to this performance at the Harlem Square Club in Miami, what really rushes is the power, something which is absent from his songs when you just hear album tracks.  There is a certain smooth coolness to most of his standards, “Another Saturday Night”, “Chain Gang”, “Having a Party”, take your pick.  All of these of course stand up well – they are timeless songs (I still get baffled as to how music like his could not get past the heart of bigots – I mean, this isn’t the Velvet Underground we’re talking about in terms of accessibility), but as cleanly produced tracks, you don’t see the fire necessarily.

But here, it all shines through, in the rare live album which really underlines the virtues of the live performance – the songs sound great, as well they should, but the performance gives the songs a distinct energy that transcends the material.  Songs like “Chain Gang” get supercharged as the “ooh-ah” bit has some extra kick to it, and this version of his “Cupid” elevates what is already a truly beautiful song – extra points for being something I have quelled the tiny despot with.  What particularly crackles though is the performance of a medley including “For Sentimental Reasons” where he leads the crowd through singing along – it is one of the rare cases in live albums where it does feel like “you are there”.  In terms of stuff I’ve listened to this year, it is one my favorite discoveries.

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Picking Up the Pieces

I know, I know.  Calling an album “throwback” or evocative of some earlier time is a fairly trite way to compliment a record.  After all, does that imply a lack of vision, something derivative you always hear as criticism of Lenny Kravitz?  So it is with this trepidation that I indeed do call Pickin’ Up the Pieces by Fitz and the Tantrums a throwback, but an original one that is not an imitation of a style, but a slick soulful fusing of modern sensibility and true old school R&B flavor.  Needless to say, it is a compulsively listenable piece.

As my man NQ has talked about, first tracks are so important.  You don’t want to blow all the karma out in the first three minutes but a strong assured track that is the album, the very embodiment of what your next hour will be.  This album opens with “Breaking the Chains of Love”, an ideal start in that vein.  It’s no “Londoncalling” but with its bouncy keyboard, bass and drum intro you are pulled right in.

The keyboards, in particular the organ sounds, combined with the rest evoke a sort of Motown spiced Doors kind of look, which flows easily into a jazzy lick.  Add the backup singers and the classic love song lyrics and you have something 1962 Berry Gordy might have oversaw with today’s tools.

Indeed the first half of the album is particularly strong.  “Dear Mr. President” with the strong choirlike feel in the backing vocals has some gospel feel as they sing about “mama raising her family” after daddy walks out.  ”Moneygrabber” is a worthy radio song of course, and the title track has those sorts of soul-gospel tinges.  That this vibe is contained within a decidedly rock album is interesting.  I mean, it is clearly a rock album – there is no mistaking it but the influences and grooves it works in makes it a really addictive album to listen to.