Louis Prima and His New Orleans Gang – “Weather Man” 1935 available on The Complete Louis Prima and Wingy Manone Brunswick and Vocalion Recordings Vol. 1. When we think of Louis Prima, we think of the flamboyant Lake Tahoe showman who billed himself as the Wildest Man in Town back in the 1950s. But he started out heavily influenced by the music of Louis Armstrong. This particular cut from 1935 finds him leading his early combo of New Orleans inspired players. The song itself is a fairly average early 30s jazz number, with lyrics mixing weather as relationship metaphors. But Prima sings it with such ebullience, and he so clearly grasps Armstrong’s approach to phrasing that I’m immediately won over. The last two minutes out of three are taken up by a series of enjoyable solos including a couple thrilling choruses by the great clarinetist Pee Wee Russell, a cool chordal run by guitarist Garrett McAdams, and several hot choruses by Prima on trumpet. His playing evokes less direct Armstrong comparisons, but it’s pretty strong nonetheless.
Ruth Copeland – “Music Box” 1970 from Self Portrait. Ruth Copeland is not a name I knew before this week, but she was around some important people and places in music history. This particular single was only the second released on the Invictus label, the one run by Holland, Dozier, and Holland after they left Motown. The album itself is practically a Funkadelic side project, with the likes of George Clinton, Bernie Worrell, and Eddie Hazel playing on it. She also co-produced the first Parliament album, Osmium, and wrote a couple songs for it. Did I mention she was white, and decidedly not soulful? This song is kind of crazy, both great and borderline unlistenable (especially in the last minute). It’s the story of a woman whose great love had left her and moved on to have a kid with another woman. She decides to travel to see him and give the kid the music box that played the goofy little tune that was their theme song. When she sees him, she cries. And Copeland doesn’t just say she cries. She actually spends a couple choruses at the end bawling and sobbing in a way that would just barely pass muster in a Freshman acting class. But, the music itself is great, and the first couple verses when she’s singing the story are quite nice to hear. Copeland had a small, folk-influenced voice but she was going for a 1970 pop sound here, and it made a nice contrast. I may never want to hear this particular cut again, but it’s weird enough and at times catchy enough to make me glad I heard it once.
Lizz Wright – “Sparrow” 2024 from Shadow. I didn’t review this album when it came out a few months back because I thought it was inconsistent. But, boy, this cut deserves attention. Wright has been one of the most evocative singers of the century so far. She has a powerful alto voice and she caresses the words in ways that make each sound signify. This song, co-written by Wright and five others, sounds deeply personal and inviting. It’s the second song she’s done about a sparrow – “Wake Up, Little Sparrow” from Dreaming Wide Awakecame out back in 2005 – so I guess she’s attracted to it as a metaphor. Here, it feels like the symbol of something precious she lost in herself, and she’s praying to get it back. She gets Angelique Kidjo to occasionaly harmonize and more often sing in a language I think is Yoruba. This makes the prayer seem even more universal, as it is a desire for wholeness which transcends time and place. The recording is gently urgent, and downright incandescent.
The Stanley Brothers – “Clinch Mountain Backstep” 1959 from Stanley Brothers and the Clinch Mountain Boys. I’m willing to keep trying, but I confess I don’t hear the extra beat in the b-section of this tune that’s supposed to indicate the backstep of the title. It’s a dancing thing, I guess, and my movements are entirely self-taught. But I don’t care. I love the heck out of this brief instrumental written by the late Carter Stanley and featuring Ralph Stanley’s explosive banjo. The tune is just a shade away from being “Shady Grove,” but that’s not the point. It’s all about how enthusiastic and energetic the band can play it. Ralph on banjo and the unknown (to me) fiddle and mandolin players all put their best fingers forward on their solos. This is superb classic bluegrass.
Nat King Cole – “Unforgettable” 1952 from Unforgettable. If you’re going to work in the pop music field – and this rule has stayed the same since the days of Stephen Foster all the way to the time of Taylor Swift – you want to get your songs to stick in the memory banks of the listeners. One of the best ways to do this is to craft at least one hook, a bit of the song that stands out as something separate from the rest of the record. Irving Gordon, who wrote this song most famously recorded by Nat King Cole, stumbled into the most memorable hook word ever – unforgettable. I say stumbled because according to Wikipedia, Gordon actually used the word “uncomparable” but wiser heads prevailed and it was changed to the word we all know. The song itself is a wisp, a declaration of being in love with a perfect someone. But that hook is dropped over and over again, and it’s simply adorable. Cole sings it with his signature coolness, his ability to stretch out syllables at the ends of lines and to cram syllables into shorter spaces. The string arrangement is fine, too. It seems this is probably a song I’ve never not remembered.
I'm curious to know how you discovered the Ruth Copeland song.