Friday Night Fish Fry!

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Because we haven't had one in so long! And because I get to choose which night the Fish Fry happens, versus the Prayer Meeting. So here:



I haven't played anything "horny" for Gurlitzer for a spell, so here's one she will remember fondly from the days of "Boom-Chuck-Chuck." (No, assholes, that's not at all what you might think it means. Thank you for your attention in this matter.)

To my teenage earbones, this studio single version of "The Letter" by Joe Cocker was much more exciting than the later recording captured on the Mad Dogs And Englishmen live album. It's fresher, not yet played to death on the road, and the horn solos are more lively. I was  not originally a fan of this song as recorded in 1967 by the Box Tops. Today I would call that one "overproduced," and Alex Chilton delivers the melody line straight up-and-down, rhythmwise, which doesn't interest me.

But the arrangement heard here---by Leon Russell, I presume---struck me as rhythmically off-kilter in a novel way. It begins with some hammering on the piano, sounding like a hungover warmup exercise, then joined by drums reminiscent of (but not exactly like) the stereotypical "Indian" tom-tom figure BOOM boom boom boom BOOM boom boom boom, which itself is very straight up-and-down. But I was and still am fascinated how Cocker joins this ape ensemble with his lummox vocals, threading his melody through that piledriving rhythm environment like a drunk driver who thinks he's going to escape the police cruisers by madly weaving through the bollards lining Wall Street. And he does! (This time.) You can somehow tell it's the same song the Box Tops recorded, but not very.

The Letter, Joe Cocker and the Shelter People (1970, monaural 45 rpm single A&M 1174), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Editor's note: I hadn't heard the studio single for years because my highly unique local corporate oldies channel plays only the live version. But I just received it in the mail yesterday as a bonus track on the "deluxe" CD. Haven't even heard it in hi-fi yet, but will before the night is over.

Experiment in terror, part 2

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Unretouched photo of Rudy foraging for billy goat gruffs for the evening meal (all three evening meals, actually). He also dismembers the baby ones and issues the parts to local trick-or-treaters, carefully swaddled in duct tape and gaily decorated externally with candy bar wrappers.

And if that isn't frightening enough for you, then here is one more seasonal music (of sorts) recording for you, just to make sure we don't leave The 59er with an empty bag this All Hallows Eve. And I present it with only one motivation in my heart:

TO DESTROY ALL YOU'VE DONE!



Actually, this live performance is less scary than cool. It has just what a scrawny teenage fan of horn bands and Hammond organs wanted back in the fall of 1968. But I don't know why Wikipedia calls this a "psychedelic" band when, in the next sentence, the writeup hints at just what makes this cut so striking: it's kind of like Screamin' Jay Hawkins accompanied by James Brown's Famous Flames.

Fire, The Crazy World of Arthur Brown (1968, from a live performance on "Top of the Pops,", BBC), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Saturday Night Fish Fry

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Went out of doors for the Fish Fry tonight; The Iron Post in Urbana, Ill., specifically. I think they call it The Iron Post because wherever you park your fundament in the room you're likely to be sitting behind an iron post.

Below is photographic documentation of a pickup band called Donald's Sons, which includes three guys named Donaldson and one guy named Big Rock Head. For most of the set BRH plucked his sweet hybrid Fender P-bass with the Jazz neck (picked it out myself when he was a tot, don't ya know), but on two tunes he and old Champaign Central HS Jazz Ensemble buddy Robert A., trumpet, played horns. In the photo, BRH (foreground) blows a tenor solo while acolyte Joel H. (right) assumes bass duties. I don't remember this second song he was blowing on when I snapped the photo because I was concentrating on getting a usable phone-cam pic. The first horn number was a version of Hendrix's "Red House." Both the vocals (by father Tim D., blurred with dorky hat) and the horn arrangement sounded reminiscent of Ray Charles, but with some Western Swing flavor. A marvelous concoction!

Saturday Night Fish Fry

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You may thank frequent contributor and good friend of this blog, Anonymous, for suggesting tonight's visit by Chase, which must be the only prominent group in jazz-rock history to have used four trumpets, and four trumpets only, as its brass section. Listen to this mother!



Any geezers out there might remember that the band Chase was eponymously named for its leader, trumpet screamer Bill Chase. Chase (the guy) was old for a rock star, having been born in the middle of the Depression and having gotten his start with the original trumpet monster, Maynard Ferguson (whose lips must have been calloused thick as a catcher's mitt after decades of galloping after F over high C like it was his own fleet-footed strumpet). He then paid dues with Stan Kenton, and especially Woody Herman's New Thundering Herd through the early and mid-1960s. Anyway, my point is that the guy was a veteran jazzman before putting Chase together, so it must have been a blast for him to be, for at least a little while, a bona fide rock star. If you remember "Open Up Wide," then you'll probably also remember Chase's biggest hit, "Get It On." Here's a 1974 live Chicago performance of that tune --- a guerrilla home movie from an album release party about half a year before Bill and three other band members died in a plane crash. Check out the flowing shirts and --- gasp! --- the beards. These are the kind of guys who Buddy Rich mercilessly terrorized on the tour bus week in and week out (refer to the beard confrontation at about 6:00). No wonder younger jazzmen like Chase and Don Ellis tried to become huge rock stars instead! They shoulda stuck with it.

I seem to remember that the other three beardy trumpeters in Chase were also alums of the New Thundering Herd. All of them are adept at playing in this piercing brass register, and this particular chart really makes the most of those tones with insanely rich chromaticism and dissonances. Nobody I'm aware of ever used trumpets like this except Bill Chase --- at least not without another 15 pieces playing along. Nice use of the Echoplex at the beginning. Other than that, nothing to say except just listen to these staccato motherfuckers! And don't miss the rhythm section!

I owned the first two Chase albums back when I was a scrawny suburban delinquent, but I remember being somewhat bored by most tracks on those discs. I think the problem was that Chase and the boys tried getting a little too arty-farty (i.e., heavy) but couldn't quite pull it off in a way that the kids related to. They're probably worthy of revisiting in their entirety, however, just in case.

I read in the YouTube comments section that marching bands attempt to perform "Open Up Wide." I've never heard one try it. Sounds like a foolhardy task to say the least, if not less. A world-class bugle corps... maybe.

Open Up Wide, Chase (1971, from "Chase," Epic Records), via YouTube.

Friday Evening Prayer Meeting

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"Turn into stone," I knelt to the hobo.



This incarnation of Blood, Sweat & Tears (1967-68) is probably the least known, but in my opinion it is by far the best-ever lineup. The band's sound is highly recognizable and unified from track to track, but every composition shows off a different facet of the ensemble's talents, not to mention Al Kooper's arranging genius. In addition to Kooper's original compositions, they covered tunes by Nilsson, Randy Newman, and Goffin and King.

Wikipedia and everyone else categorize BS&T as a jazz-rock combo, but that descriptor is much too narrow for the original lineup. The Kooper BS&T album, "Child is Father to the Man," begins with a formal overture that functions exactly as a classical overture is intended to, with much verve and wit. And near the end of side 2, "The Modern Adventures of Plato, Diogenes and Freud" pairs Kooper's intense psycho-philosophical lyrics with an orchestration that might be described as outre avant-garde pop.

"Morning Glory" is one impressive stop on this vinyl tour de force. The song was originally composed and performed in a folk style by Tim Buckley, with allegorical psychedelic lyrics by his partner Larry Beckett. You can hear Buckley's ethereal, elegiac treatment of "Morning Glory" here on YouTube. Buckley's style of music mostly has never appealed to me, and therefore I never would have heard this song if not for Kooper and his treatment of it. There's both a majesty and a foolishness to the arrangement that captures the psychonaut's innocent, earnest, and completely deluded expectation that enlightenment will be delivered on his desired schedule to the front door by a magic guru. As a teenager I would not have been able to extract any meaning from Buckley's languid performance of Beckett's creakily worded parable. Kooper and BS&T turned it into something a pimply suburban delinquent could relate to even before he discovered railroad-striped bell bottoms and incense.

Morning Glory, Blood, Sweat & Tears (1968, from "Child is Father to the Man," Columbia Records), via YouTube.