5 Songs May 10, 2024
Recorded between 49 and 100 years ago, these records remain lively
Freddie Keppard – “The Memphis Maybe Man” 1924 available on The Complete Set 1923-1926. Keppard’s prime days as a major cornet player in the New Orleans lineage occurred in the years after Buddy Bolden died and before King Oliver hit his stride. His handful of recordings, though, happened in the mid-twenties, after Oliver had spread the more modern sound out around the land. Still, I’d say you got your money’s worth if you laid down a buck for the 78 rpm record of this tune. After a brief intro featuring clarinet and trombone, Keppard says, “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t” and then he definitely does. His cornet sticks closest to the melody while the clarinet and trombone dance all over the place. He does get a nice break or two himself in the middle. I assume that’s a tuba doing that staccato thing about a minute or so in. They’ve done a great job pulling out as much of the sound as possible from these old acoustical recordings, but it's still a little difficult to hear everything clearly. But the energy and spirit is obvious even 100 years later.
Hank Williams – “A House of Gold” 1954 single recorded in 1948, available on The Complete Hank Williams. Ol’ Hank recorded a plethora of Christian songs, but none of them strike me as richer than this one. It wasn’t released until after he died, so it’s only a demo version with Hank accompanying himself on acoustic guitar. There is a raw intensity to the recording, with Hank’s plaintive cries showing off his certainty that in this life, he’s better off poor, since all that gold and silver will melt away on Judgement Day. I love this particular theological idea, though – “I’d rather be in a deep, dark grave / And know that my poor soul was saved / Than to live in a house of gold / And deny my God and doom my soul.” Most gospel songs don’t bother to imply a period of nothingness, or perhaps anticipation after death; they just skip from dying to heaven. Hank Williams figured out a way to make the sacrifice of Christianity even tougher, by considering a period of lying under the ground waiting for that day to come. As he put it in another song, “I’ll never get out of this world alive.”
Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs – “Take Me Back to Tulsa” 1965 from Town and Country. This is just under two minutes of pure joy on a record. The song itself dates back to a recording by Bob Wills in the 1930s which is full of nonsense lyrics, including one racist couplet. That particular part of the song was changed by the mid-1940s, and dropped entirely by Lester Flatt, who only offers two pairs of rhyming lines, almost turning the song into something that makes sense. He needn’t have worried, because the mid-60s Flatt & Scruggs band didn’t need any help from words. I do love the harmonies with Flatt in the middle between an ultra high lonesome singer and a deep baritone bottom. And there are nice bits from the fiddler, the dobro player, and a harmonica player. But the OMG moments of this song are all provided by Scruggs, who simply executes jaw-dropping runs on the banjo, played with a joie de vivre that none of his many disciples could ever muster, to my ears. Whether you’re too young to marry or way too old to consider going back home, this bluegrass version of a Western Swing classic will be a spectacular addition to your day.
LaBelle – “Action Time” 1975 from Phoenix. The writing was on the wall for the trio of Patti LaBelle, Nona Hendryx, and Sarah Dash – they would only release one more record together before going their separate ways (save for a decent 2009 reunion album). Phoenix is steeped in the sounds of New Orleans funk – in fact, Leo Nocentelli and George Porter, Jr. of the Meters play on other songs on the album, and Allen Toussaint handled arrangements. “Action Time” is the last song on the record, and it’s a full-tilt corker. With all three singers belting out like their lives depend on the moving of minds in the lyrics, this is practically an ur-LaBelle recording. Heck, it even has a French word in it – “Beaucoup” – just like “Lady Marmalade” does. The piano, organ, horns, and bass parts are all standouts, as they interlock their rhythmic emphasis throughout the song. I’m ready to take some action after this cut, and I’m not even sure what they want me to do.
Buddy Guy – “I Can’t Quit the Blues” 1968 from A Man and the Blues. Buddy Guy is the last giant of Chicago blues left standing. Though he recorded plenty of singles for Chess Records starting in 1959, he didn’t make his first album until 1967. Jumping to Vanguard Records the next year, he slowly started displaying his explosive guitar approach to match the exhilarating raunchiness of his vocals. This song, basically an instrumental with two sung lines and a few vocal interjections, is in between. He’s playing some exciting licks, but not yet with the sustain that would become his signature. I happen to really dig the clipped, tight sound of his guitar on this record, though. Forward-thinking blues bands in 1968 were adopting some of the rhythmic influences of soul, especially Sly & the Family Stone. This record is fast, with brass and piano and shuffling rhythm guitar giving shape to Guy’s lead lines while the bass and the drums lay down a heavily syncopated groove. “I can’t get used to the blues,” the only lyrics sung in the song, fight the truth of “I can’t quit the blues” in the title.