I Heard You Twice the First Time

Part-owner Al Bell thus became the Berry Gordy of Stax, taking an assembly-line approach to production in an effort to right the ship, and cranking out record after record in um, record time. Secondly, Bell went out of his way to appeal solely to the African-American market, something Gordy would laugh at as he polished his solid gold car. This confluence of events, Hayes mentions in the doc, is what allowed Hot Buttered Soul to even see release—slipping through the cracks, and accidentally saving the label, for a minute. A telling difference between Gordy’s and Bell can be found in their early 70s film projects representing iconic black figures: Motown’s Lady Sings the Blues vs. Stax’s Shaft.

(Although in his great post at Heart On A Stick J. enthusiastically documents his righteous appreciation for Rufus Thomas, I was surprised he didn’t mention the man’s complete goose-egg from the doc, save a couple soundbites and a (quite great, mind you) late-career performance in a hot-pink, caped version of Angus Young’s schoolboy outfit (from memory–there were shorts involved). This is a shame, lots. His contributions to the label—the link between the loquacious southern radio DJs and what would come after, his position as one-half of its father/daughter dyad (with daughter Carla)—were much worthier than his offered (brief, post-prime) moment. He got more screen time in Mystery Train, for chrissakes!)

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Isaac Hayes “Never Can Say Goodbye” (mp3) Okay, back to Hayes for just a quick second. I’m a total apologist, and appreciated the documentary’s proper positioning of him as the embaldened savior of the Black Power indie in the age of elm tree-sized Afros. This version of the Corporation-penned Jackson 5 ballad is the definitive one, in my book–if only for the sense I get that Hayes is severely restraining himself here. (Black Moses, Stax 1971 | buy)

Wu-Tang Clan f. Isaac Hayes “I Can’t Go To Sleep” At the risk of seeming like one of those people who can’t like a soul song unless it’s been properly recontextualized into a rap song, I offer this video. It’s one of the most intense, honest rap songs ever, taking the melodramatic sentiment from Hayes’ “Walk On By” in a completely different direction.

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Kanye West f. Cam’ron and Consequence “Gone” (mp3) See above re: rap song caveat. While Otis Redding (and J.’s dutiful Monterey footage recall) is on my mind, this number. West’s best, and a wonderful reimagining of Redding’s (jesus was he only fucking goddamn 26) own “It’s Too Late” (mp3). Respect Yourself points out that Redding was merely a hired hand for a band coming to record at Stax, and begged the higher-ups to listen to him sing. Geez…makes me want to shove a mic in my mailman’s face, just to check. For now, West et al do the same thing with Redding that Ghost &c did with Hayes—the plangent piano plink from “Late” becomes a ticking timebomb for “Gone”, underscoring four killer verses (two from Kanye) that replace Redding’s post-romantic longing with the rappers’ existential angst over time lost, mistakes made, and of course, individual legacies. Highlight: Con’s verse, which uses the titular word repeatedly, enjoyably. (Late Registration, Roc-a-Fella 2005 | buy)

Now, to the news segue. Kanye’s and Jon Brion’s usage of symphonic instrumentation on “Gone” leave 50 Cent’s attempt on his lame-ass Vitamin Water commercial far behind. Despite the fact that I see “Stronger” as Kanye’s more-or-less transformation into Puffy, he’ll no doubt outsell 50 on Releasealypse 2007—don’t for a second underestimate the power of the blog house contingent.

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If the term “blog house” was coined to describe the sort of dance music that would appeal to those without catholic musical tastes (i.e. the same as Prodigy), then can I call the sort of music that the Go! Team makes “blog rap”? Aside from the occasional Clipse or um, Lil’ Wayne mentions, and posts about the sort of rap I’ve largely ignored since Black Star, rap typically exists on a plane outside of Blogtown.

The Team, whose forthcoming Proof of Youth leaked last week, make music with stereotypical rap signifiers, although in different formations. The boom-bap is present, but it’s live, and all “bap” with no boom. The soul influence is there, but it’s courtesy of the black Sporty Spice. Even the actual rapping comes up now and then, in the form of double-dutch chants and, occasionally, lyrics that sound like Play-Skooly D. Chuck D’s on this one, but he’s outnumbered, the Sub Pop site informs, by the Rappers’ Delight Club, the spazzy, cute Brazilian chick from Bonde do Role, and the Frederick Douglass All-Star Cheer Team. In other words, it’s twee-as-all-holy-hell kiddie rap, it’s ESG minus the sexuality and implied danger, it’s perfect for roughly 74 percent of mp3 bloggers.

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In other, more substantive he-said-it-too news, my quickly cranked out review of Emily Haines’ quickie follow-up to last year’s under-the-rug champion Knives Don’t Have Your Back, only mentioned her father Paul in passing at the end; I don’t know a great deal about him, and the review was about Emily’s record, after all. I’m discovering him through his daughter, who made her own Unforgettable (of sorts) with “Sprig” (mp3), which she talks about a bit below, at a venue I’m told is in Canada.

After submitting that review, I encountered a Zoilus-via-Zoilus’-alter-ego-Carl Wilson encomium for Paul, which doubles as a wonderful introduction to a man I’m just now exploring. As for Paul’s 1971 collaboration with Carla Bley Escalator Over the Hill, Carl writes:

Haines’s famed libretto for Carla Bley’s dazzling avant-jazz opera…has been called the Sgt. Pepper’s of early 1970s jazz, featuring everyone from Charlie Haden and Don Cherry to Jack Bruce and Linda Ronstadt. Haines sent Bley his poems from a Navajo reserve in New Mexico, where he and his wife Jo lived at the time.

The title came, he later said, from his irritation with the verb “to escalate” during the Vietnam War era (reflecting his eternally subtle social conscience, and adding shades to “over the hill,” too). The paper back in Saginaw celebrated with a headline reading, “Local athlete writes opera,” which so amused him he carried it around for years.

“Businessmen” (mp3), might not be the most representative track from the record, but it’s certainly the most hypnotic, at least to these ears. Yes, that’s the aforementioned Jack Bruce on bass/vox, and noted Mahavishnu John McLaughlin on guitar.

The All About Jazz entry for the record (1972, ECM | buy | buy Secret Carnival Workers)