Issue 178

Some serious “wow” factor here – a 1950s McIntosh C-104 mono tube preamplifier. It used three 5751 tubes and could accommodate five (mono) audio sources.

 

Detail shot of the C-104’s rear panel. From The Audio Classics Collection, photo by Howard Kneller.

 

A holiday dream: there’s nothing like basking in the warmth of tubes for this lad. From Radio News, December 1927.

 

Talk about traveling in style: a 1950s Motorola ad for the Riviera portable radio.

 

Who wouldn’t want a gift like this? Radio and Television News, January 1949. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/public domain.

Happy Holidays from all of us at Copper!

 

Howard Kneller’s audiophile adventures are documented on YouTube (The Listening Chair with Howard Kneller) and Instagram (@howardkneller). His art and photography can be found on Instagram (@howardkneller). He also posts a bit of everything on Facebook (@howardkneller).

Having visited the Great British disk recording industry in our last episode (Issue 177), it is now time to ask where it all began. How did they start eating beans on toast, and why would anyone think that manufacturing a bonsai car in large numbers would be a good idea (not to mention the millions of people who actually bought them)?

Or better, we could explore the humble early beginnings of sound recording instead. Where did it all start, and what were the earliest machines like? Who made them, and what were they thinking?

I will start from the very beginning, highlighting the evolutionary milestones that led to the invention, development and refinement of the disk recording lathe from the dawn of time to the present day. First came the big bang, then dinosaurs, some other unimportant stuff, and a few thousand years down the line, came sound recording, finally bringing some sense to this world. (I really tried to offer an unbiased perspective…and failed!)

The concept of sound recording dates to the middle of the 19th century, developed by what we would now consider over-skilled individuals, in different parts of the world, in dimly-lit, unheated sheds and workshops, before electricity was a thing. It escalated rather rapidly into one of the largest industries of the past century, all the way to luxury goods marketed as being made from hair collected from a unicorn’s posterior under the full moon.

Sound recording did not start with the disk medium and in fact, it did not start with a medium that could be reproduced. In 1857, Édouard-Léon Scott de Martinville invented the Phonautograph, a device that could record sound on paper or glass by drawing the soundwaves, but offered no means of playing it back again as sound. In 1877, Charles Cross described a device that could record sound on a cylinder using a screw, but hadn’t actually succeeded in building one yet, when Thomas Edison came up with the Phonograph. The Phonograph was the first invention that would not only record, but also subsequently play back sound. This essentially means that our industry will be celebrating 146 years of existence in the new year. In 1887, Emile Berliner joined the game with his own cylinder recorder, but in 1888 decided to use a flat disk as the recording medium, creating the disk record.

The very first disk recording lathe in the world was therefore built by Emile Berliner. It was rather crude, but the idea was out there, and it would see constant refinement for many decades to come.

Columbia Records started in 1888 as well, followed a year later by the Gramophone Company in London. This was the acoustic recording era, meaning that all recordings during this time were conducted without using electrical equipment. There were no microphones, no mixing consoles, no amplifiers and no electric motors to power the lathes. This was not a situation particular to the sound recording industry. Manufacturing during that time did not rely on electricity and electric power was not widely available. Early electric motors were prohibitively expensive, and it was unheard of for multiple motors to be used in a factory to power the machinery.

At the time, a typical factory would have a single source of power, typically a steam engine, which was sometimes shared by neighboring factories. The steam engine would drive a long shaft spanning the entire length of a building, fitted with multiple pulleys, on which flat leather belts would run, with a tensioning system that would allow the belts to be slid on and off the pulleys as needed. The long shaft, typically situated overhead, right under the ceiling, was called a line shaft. The various machines in the factory were all powered by the same line shaft system, which would always remain in motion. The individual machines could be started and stopped by engaging or disengaging their belts while the line shaft was running. There were no belt guards or emergency stop buttons, and pressure vessels were not known to be the safest things to sit around. OSHA (the Occupational Health and Safety Administration) had not been yet been created!

This kind of setup was not suitable for powering sound recording equipment. Line shaft systems were only used in large factories, where a lot of power was needed for powering hundreds of machines. They were very expensive, noisy, not at all portable and worst of all, did not run at a steady or even predictable speed. Small workshops that only had a metalworking lathe or a drill would often power these machines using a treadle, in a manner similar to early treadle-operated sewing machines. Unlike a sewing machine, however, it took quite some muscle to run a metalworking lathe in this manner. To be able to do that while actually machining was quite a feat, as anyone who has ever tried to operate a treadle-powered lathe will have quickly found out. Yet, this was exactly the environment in which early disk recording lathes were made.

The very early units were simply hand-cranked, but it was impossible to maintain speed stability in this manner, so more elaborate mechanisms were developed. In the mid-1890s, Eldridge Johnson of Camden, New Jersey, was commissioned by The Gramophone Company and their associates in the US to develop a spring-powered and mechanically-speed-governed drive system, similar to what most people associate with gramophones nowadays. This became one of the two established ways to power such devices prior to the shift to electric motor in the late 1920s. The other method involved a weight -driven mechanism, again utilizing a mechanical speed governor.

There is very little information available regarding the exact construction of the early disk recording lathes used commercially by the record labels of the time for their acoustic recordings, and very few photographs. The basic design principles were shared among the machines. They all had a platter driven by one of the two purely mechanical drive systems. They all had a sound box consisting of a thin glass diaphragm, and a horn to “collect” the sound. The diaphragm would vibrate with the sound, imparting this motion to a cutting stylus that would wiggle while cutting the groove on a blank disk. Shapes, sizes and degree of sophistication would vary greatly, but the general operation was the same.

The early disk recording lathes seen in the limited photographic documentation that survives appear to have been very crudely made, mostly out of wood, with very few accurately machined metal parts.

In 1909, an experienced machinist by the name of John J. Scully made his first disk recording lathe, while employed by the Columbia Phonograph Company, where he was contributing improvements to the Dictaphone. He left Columbia in 1918 and went on to briefly work for the General Phonograph Corporation, before establishing the Scully Recording Instruments Corporation in 1919 in Bridgeport, Connecticut. The early Scully lathes were weight-driven and were a game-changer in terms of design and build quality. In these early lathes, it was the platter and drive assembly that would advance under the stationary soundbox. Scully lathes were made of machined metal, in the tradition of proper machine tools, for which Bridgeport was well known, having been a hub for the development of the machine tool industry in the US. The Scully lathe was the first disk recording lathe truly worthy of being called a lathe.

In 1924, Western Electric purchased a Scully lathe, which they equipped with their first cutter head for electric recording. Western Electric demonstrated and licensed their system to Columbia and the Victor Talking Machine Company, prompting Scully to update the design of their lathe. The changes included an electric motor, a stationary platter, and a carriage advancing over the platter. In the second half of the 1920s, the acoustic era came to an end and electric recording took over. Scully had set the bar very high and dominated the disk mastering market for several decades, keeping their high-quality standards intact until the end. John Scully can be credited with introducing the first properly engineered solution to the problem of developing a disk recording lathe, utilizing his skills in machining and industrial manufacturing to create a machine that brought new standards to the industry and pointed to the direction things would be heading in the decades to come. Nevertheless, I believe that fewer than 10 acoustic recording lathes were made by Scully in total. His son, Lawrence J. Scully, joined the company in 1933 and carried on the torch.

The price of the early acoustic-era Scully lathe is not known, but the first electrical-era Scully lathes cost approximately $30,000 in modern dollars (adjusted for inflation), not including the cutter head, cutting amplifier rack and several other pieces of equipment that would be needed to be able to use the lathe. The later model Scully, with manually adjustable, electronically variable pitch would be priced at $90,000 in modern dollars, again not including anything but the bare lathe. This sector always had a pretty high entry level, but considering the materials and level of craftsmanship that went into these machines, their prices were quite reasonable.

If you don’t believe me, try to make one!

I have!

At least, by the time the electrical era had arrived, it was possible to buy a disk recording lathe and the associated equipment to get started. In the early days of acoustic recording, if you wanted to get involved in sound recording, you had to make everything from scratch!

One thing is certain: We owe the existence of sound recording to the creative, crafty and resourceful individuals who dared to dive into the unknown, into uncharted waters, to develop something nobody had done before. Similarly, we owe its continued development and refinement to those who dared to take it a few steps further, believing that there is room for improvement. There always is.
It just takes someone to believe in it and dare to do it.

 

Header image: from the documentary American Epic, a restored Western Electric recording system with Western Electric recording rack. Scully Lathe, and Western Electric microphone. Courtesy of American Epic,© 2017 Lo-Max Records Ltd.

Lou Reed passed away on Oct. 27, 2013 but interest in him remains high, as evidenced this past June by the opening of an exhibit at the New York Public Library (NYPL) for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center; the November vinyl release of his earliest, pre-Velvet Underground demos, and an early-December tribute commemorating the 50th anniversary of his breakthrough Transformer album.

What might be of special interest to readers of Copper is that renowned mastering engineer Bob Ludwig once told me Lou Reed cared more about sound than any other musician with whom he ever worked. When I finally had the opportunity to interview Reed in February 2003, after 25 years of trying, much of what we talked about was his search for sonic perfection.

“Mastering is such an astonishing experience,” Reed said, at his Soho, New York office for Sister Ray Enterprises. “The technology has improved in a staggering way. I was able to go back to all the old Velvet Underground records on up and really make them sound the way they’re supposed to sound.”

A few months later, BMG was releasing a two-CD retrospective, NYC Man. “I don’t like to listen to my old stuff. But when I do hear [older CDs], it’s only upsetting because you say, ‘If only I could do this, listen to that: Why didn’t they clean the vocal track? There should be more bass on this.’ If you made a [vinyl] record that’s 20 minutes long, you’ve lost bottom, you’ve lost volume. Then they made a CD of it and kept it that way. So you have these CDs floating around that have no known bottom.

There’s no reason for it – they’re just mimicking the vinyl. If you can go back and remaster it, as opposed to them – all they’re going to do is the minimum – you can address these problems, which is what I did.”

Reed clarified that “them” meant the record company. “Yeah, they’re just going to throw it in and reproduce it – badly. I’ve listened to some of those reproductions that they’ve done. It’s unbelievable how chintzy they are.”

Reed’s Stereo Binaural Quest

At the time of the interview, Reed was promoting The Raven, his mostly spoken-word rewriting of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories and poems, utilizing the talents of actors including Willem Dafoe, Elizabeth Ashley, Amanda Plummer, and Steve Buscemi, amid sound effects. The Raven is closer in style to a radio drama of yesteryear such as Orson Welles’s War of the Worlds than a conventional rock album. In 2019, The Raven was released on three-LP vinyl for the first time for Record Store Day.

Video courtesy of Stephen Joy.

Hurley’s house band was anchored by the rhythm section of Roxy Music bassist Sal Maida and regular Paul McCartney drummer Steve Holley. Playing guitar throughout the set, Don Fleming, the primary curator of the NYPL Lou Reed archive, faithfully performed a Velvets outtake, “Temptation Inside Your Heart,” which captured all the nuances that only an aficionado of the band would appreciate.

Always on the scene for these types of gigs, former Bongos front man Richard Barone played “White Light/White Heat.” Screaming Orphans came in from Ireland to sing a Celtic-styled “Goodnight Ladies.”

Video courtesy of George Rush.

If you remember, the opening seconds of that binaural-produced 1978 album starts off with him taking out a package of cigarettes and lighting a match that gives the listener the feeling that you’re on stage with Lou at the Bottom Line. The Light in the Attic 1965 demo tapes record is labeled as “Vol. 1,” and I hear through the grapevine that there’s much more in the archives that will keep us Reed fans enthralled.

 

As noted in previous installments, including my report on the recent AudioJumble in the UK (Issue 164) and a later column (Issue 175) about the emergence of a new generation of open-reel tape enthusiasts exemplified by Instagrammers geraldine.hifi and hifi-david, cassettes are back with a vengeance, and with much greater force than reel-to-reel. While the reasons are obvious, they do fall into two categories which distinguish the new-found appeal of cassettes from that of open-reel, in practical if not sonic terms.

In three words, the two reasons why cassettes are able to enjoy a rebirth include the original basis for the cassette’s supplanting of open-reel as a home playback and recording medium, and the state of the current market. The first reason is the irresistible combination of “cost” and “convenience” of cassette over open-reel, while the second is the more recent phenomenon: “availability.” This applies to both the hardware and the tapes (blank and pre-recorded).

Cost and convenience are self-explanatory, as cassette tapes and cassette decks, from the very outset nearly 60 years ago, sold for far less than open-reel machines and reels of blank tape. The convenience was self-evident, with no fiddly handling to worry about, the tapes being self-contained to the point where cassettes lent themselves to in-car playback, which open-reel never did. Far more crucial was the music industry embracing the so-called Compact Cassette or Musicassette so comprehensively that it became the major format for pre-recorded material, its dominance only ending with the ascent of CD.

Despite the eventual arrival of genuinely fine-sounding machines from TEAC, Revox, Tandberg, Nakamichi, Sony and just about every other manufacturer of cassette decks, superior sound quality was never a crucial factor in the cassette’s saga. Even when companies like Mobile Fidelity offered pre-recorded tapes and the blank tape manufacturers created ever more exotic formulae, cassettes never really conquered the high-end/purist/audiophile sector.

They didn’t need to: the public adored cassettes because of the cost and convenience, and any perceived reduction in sound quality escaped mass consciousness. This has been the case with every new audio format that has appeared since the days when the stereo LP and open-reel tape dominated quality music playback in the home: each new format delivered greater convenience but poorer sound.

(That describes in a nutshell the arrival of all forms of digital playback, which rewrote the rules of music-in-the-home such that a modern system no longer requires any physical media whatsoever. This column, however, is not about analogue-vs-digital, and that particular battle is old, over, and irrelevant as digital will ultimately “win” in mass-market terms, so let’s move on.)

Which brings us to the second reason why the cassette revival will be and will forever remain greater than the open-reel revival. Unlike open-reel decks, which can only be purchased new today if you have a budget of $20,000 or so as a starting point, there are still cassette decks being made by major brands. All you have to do to find a brand-spanking-new machine is to click on amazon.com and up pops TEAC’s W-1200 Dual Cassette Deck “with Recorder/USB/Pitch/Karaoke-Mic-in and Remote” for $499. I’ve seen one and it’s a honey.

Teac W-1200 dual cassette deck.

Limited funds? Then the same source will supply you with the Pyle Home Digital Tuner Dual Cassette Deck/Media Player for $169.95. Additionally, I counted 25 cassette-equipped portables and boom boxes on Amazon, so finding a new cassette player does not involve scouring the web for obscure suppliers of refurbished hardware – as is necessary for open-reel unless you can consider a Ballfinger, or happen to be intrepid enough to buy something used and in need of refurbishing. eBay, by the way, is loaded with both, and there are still silly bargains to be had with cassette decks, if not open reel machines.

As for blank cassettes, Amazon yielded a plethora of fresh tapes from TDK, Sony, Maxell and others, for as little as $2.40 per tape and in all manner of formulae. More important for some, however, is the fact that numerous artists are releasing pre-recorded cassettes because they have acquired some kind of cool. This is a post-Guardians of the Galaxy singularity, that Marvel Multiverse smash hit film single-handedly reviving the cassette Walkman. Current performers who have issued new albums and singles on cassettes include Billie Eilish, Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, Kylie Minogue, Lana Del Rey and too many others to list.

That roster, however, defines the target demographic, even if the prices of circa-2022 pre-recorded cassettes place them slightly above CDs (if lower than most new LPs) at $15 – $30. One might assume that this would make them mildly forbidding to those with less disposable income than fiftysomething audiophiles, but this new wave of pre-recorded cassettes is not aimed at music lovers who buy multiple copies of Kind of Blue or One-Step vinyl. 

Generation Z’s high regard for cassettes, or should I say their lack of audiophile prejudice against cassettes, is mirrored in the postings of geraldine.hifi and hifi-david, though those two high-end-enthusiasts-in the-making use vintage tape decks and acquire pre-owned cassettes of 20^th century performers. (Far be it for me to suggest that either of them are fans of any of the artists mentioned above.)

Readers who have been following the open-reel revival can easily rattle off the negatives which the cassette doesn’t suffer but which afflict reel-to-reel. The litany remains that of excruciatingly expensive new open-reel tapes – both pre-recorded and blank, and tape decks, whether completely new or fully restored; the need for those of limited means to depend on used decks for which spares will be scarce, ad nauseam. One example serves as synecdoche regarding the cost of open-reel: the cheapest blank tape I could find on Amazon was $44, while a web search produced mainly used or NOS tapes at crazy prices.

But back to cassettes. Back in the day, I had a voracious appetite for recording off air the various live concerts broadcast on FM by the BBC, along with rock documentaries and other programs which would never be issued commercially. With a library of around 1,000 cassettes, I have always kept a cassette deck or two, including a cherished Walkman Pro WM-D6C and a Harman-Kardon TD4600.

Just before COVID hit, at one of the last AudioJumbles before lockdown, I went nuts and bought a JVC TD-X335 and two twin-cassette decks: a Pioneer CT-W803RS and a Sony TC-WE525. All three came to less than £100 combined, a rare occurrence where I was ahead of the curve. The Pioneer alone goes for £150 – £200 now.

As luck would have it, I recently found a case of pre-recorded cassettes which I had never played, including a few dozen advance copies for review. These massacre the commercial pre-recorded tapes, approaching audiophile performance levels, as they were duplicated in real time and on quality tape, e.g., chrome bias TDKs. Which explains why this year I made room for a Sony TC-D5M, a.k.a. the Walkman Pro on steroids. And why would I buy that, with all the other cassette decks I own? Simple: it fits perfectly and looks cool sitting on top of the Otari MX-5050.

 

Header image of the Sony TC-D5M courtesy of Ken Kessler.

Christmas is approaching with all the subtlety of a runaway tanker train. Pop-up ads, doorbuster sales, inflatable plastic figures on people’s lawns, and the Christmas music machine, starring saints, snowmen, drummer boys, reindeer, elves, orcs, Santa baby, baby it’s cold outside, and the baby in the manger. And let’s not forget the totally uninspired – for example, the immortal “Driving Home for Christmas,” in which the singer makes the following points:

• He’s heading home for Christmas.
• He’s driving.
• He should’ve left earlier because there’s lots of traffic.

There’s none of that noise at Hanukkah, mainly because the Festival of Lights doesn’t give you much to hang your muse on. It’s certainly not something you drive home for. Hanukkah possesses so little significance that it doesn’t even appear in the Bible. We Jews wrote “White Christmas” for the Christians*, but for our own holiday we’re stuck with Adam Sandler rhyming “Hanukkah” with “gin and tonica” and a preschooler’s tune about spinning a top made out of clay.**

* You can also thank us for “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire,” and I’m already tired of this list.

** The main Hanukkah activity of my childhood was firing up the menorah, but my parents often fell asleep in front of the TV before we got to the ceremony. We ended up missing nights. You need 44 candles for one Hanukkah. What are you going to do with the 13 you didn’t use last year? You end up sticking orphan candles in birthday cakes years later.

If you’re asking yourself, how can I write about Christmas music if I’m Jewish, let me reassure you that I am extensively credentialed in this area. I was born before diversity was invented, which means that I was forced to sing Christmas carols in the public schools. I could’ve refused, but if I had they would’ve beaten the Velveteen Rabbit stuffing out of me on the playground. And by “they” I am referring to the teachers.

As an adult I was able to keep the whole business of Christmas music at arm’s length, but then I married one of the not-Chosen. My wife enjoys a healthy diet of holiday musical cheer, beginning December 1 and galloping full-tilt over the fence until New Year’s. She loves surf versions of holiday classics and anything with a saxophone. But her first love in Christmas music is George Frideric Handel’s happy-go-lucky juggernaut, Messiah.

I Knew This Job Was Dangerous When I Took It

Handel, who was of German and British extraction, was a composer of the Starbucks Baroque Blend era. He’s probably dead today – he was a very old man when I knew him – but one thing I remember him going on about was how he invented the show-stopper. In Handel’s case, that would be the “Hallelujah” chorus. He was quite smug about it, too.

Rolling Stone ranks Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus third on their list of the “100 Super Explosive Classical Music Show-Stopping Explosions,” behind Rossini’s “William Tell Overture” and Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee” but ahead of Khachaturian’s “Sabre Dance” and Men Without Hats’ “Safety Dance.”

The “Hallelujah” chorus is probably the most often-performed choral work in Western music. It’s incredibly popular at sing-alongs, as it can be learned by basically anyone. 17 percent of the total wordage in the “Hallelujah” chorus is “Hallelujah.” The rest is mostly kings, lords, and conjunctions.

This mighty hymn was given a significant boost in the public consciousness in 1967, when the Red Sox won the American League pennant and their left fielder, Carl Yastrzemski, won the Triple Crown. The result you will no doubt remember was this Handel/Yastrzemski mashup:

Carl Yastrzemski! Carl Yastrzemski! Carl Yastrzemski!
The man we call Yaz. We love him!
Carl Yastrzemski! Carl Yastrzemski! Carl Yastrzemski!
What power he has!

Yaz played baseball for 23 years, which is worth a brag but somewhat short of the promise in Messiah: “And he shall bat for ever and ever.”

His Yoke Is Easy (Like Sunday Morning)

Messiah is chock-full of martyrs, prophets, persecution, and resurrection. Pretty much the same stuff we’re still grappling with today. I paid little attention to this story for years because of a) my lack of interest in anything related to Christmas, and b) my lifelong tendency to mishear lyrics.

For example, I only recently discovered that the line Handel wrote was “Every valley/shall be exalted.” I thought they were singing “Everybody! Shall be exalted,” à la Normie yelling “Everybody!” when he walked into the bar on Cheers. I’ll bet that Handel never saw that program. He was more of a Soul Train guy. Other aural miscues on my part have led to fractures in the sacred institution of marriage, as you can see from the following:

A Jew Copes with Christmas

Act I, Scene 1

(The setting: A suburban living room in December. Snow is falling outside. A dog is shedding inside. My wife is playing Messiah. I am puzzled.)

Me: What does cheese have to do with the birth of Christ?
Her: What?
Me: Cheese. What did the Wise Men bring baby Jesus, a cheese wheel?
Her: What are you talking about?
Me: They’re singing, “And we like cheese.”
Her: Are not.
Me: Are too.
Her: They’re not singing “And we like cheese,” they’re singing “And we are like sheep.”
Me: (Pause.) They like sheep?
Her: They don’t like sheep, they ARE LIKE sheep!
Me: They don’t like sheep even a little?
Her: I’ve got a lawyer.

After 35 years of marriage and approximately 2,000 spins around Messiah, Handel’s modest little oratorio has become an inextricable part of my Christmas. I would miss Messiah if my wife stopped playing it. I would certainly miss it if she turned to Mannheim Steamroller or The Grateful Dead Go Caroling. So when I catch myself wondering if I can listen to Messiah shake the shack yet again this season or should I find something to do on the other side of the Moon, I remember what a good friend of mine once said: “Keep singing that Messiah. Builds fiber.”

 

Header image: George Frideric Handel, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/public domain.

The only people who don’t think being nominated for a Grammy is still a big deal are those not being nominated for a Grammy. This is particularly true when you move from mainstream music to more vertical channels like the blues. Recognition in those genres is often more difficult to come by because there are so many players in the space, and airplay, popularity, and unit sales have little impact on getting a Grammy nod. When you do get nominated for a best album in the blues category, you’ve made music worth making. Last month, a true blues legend got his first shot at a Grammy (for Best Contemporary Blues Album) and it seemed like the whole industry stood up and said “’bout time!”

Eric “Raw Dawg” Gales has been wowing both fans and peers for over 30 years with an approach to guitar that is as electrifying as it is unique. Like few others, he plays a right-handed guitar upside down. This left-handed take on guitar helped establish him as a child prodigy alongside players like guitarist/singer/songwriter Joe Bonamassa, but also put him on a world stage that tempted the young player in ways that would impede his rise to a proper blues throne. Now five years sober, he has released his 18th record, Crown, and it quickly soared to a Number 1 Billboard Blues album position and finally put him in a position to walk away from the Grammys with a win in the category (to be announced in 2023). The album was made with Bonamassa, and sets itself apart with writing that offers insightful social commentary, with arrangements that put the song before the solo. It’s patient, mature, and appropriately playful.

The path to this Crown has been informed by struggles, losses, and a remarkable sense of redemption. This all unfolds on a record that establishes a renewed sense of musical purpose and humility that suggests Gales’s best work is yet to come. Copper had a chance to speak with him about the making of Crown, the importance of the thoughts it conveys, the opportunity to tap into Joe Bonamassa’s remarkable selection of vintage guitars and gear, and the gravity of this significant Grammy moment. Every now and then the Grammys gets things right. With this well-earned nod toward one of America’s most purposeful performers, they went in the right direction.

Ray Chelstowski: You’ve not only been nominated for your first Grammy. You’ve been nominated alongside some of the biggest names in music. Does that make the nod even more special?

Eric Gales: To be in the company of Edgar Winter, The North Mississippi Allstars, Ben Harper, and Shemekia Copeland is amazing. My hat is off to whoever walks off with the “hardware” [Grammy award]. It’s just great to be recognized among these kinds of peers. I spent many years in the industry and to get my first Grammy nod? I pinch myself every day. It’s quite a blessing.

RC: The new record has received a lot of critical praise, but what is it about Crown that you think sets it apart?

EG: Honestly I think that it’s the content. While the people who were involved are important too, I put that a bit further down the list. The message and the lyrical content were part of a personal goal I had made. I’d always spoken about personal issues in my songs but this time I got a little more in-depth. We started to write just before the pandemic and during the pandemic. In fact, we actually wrote the day after George Floyd died, so that added some overtones that I was very passionate about that I thought needed to be expressed in a way that wasn’t “preachy” but was part of a conversation with anyone who listens to the record.

RC: Contemporary blues is rarely delivered with a social message. Crown makes a statement on almost every track.

EG: There’s only so much that you can do subject-wise in “the blues world.” I’m not into categories and labels though. I am a blues artist at my core, but I sprinkle in other spices from inspirations that have helped cultivate me into the artist that I am. I think that this showed its presence on this record.

RC: I’ve read that the solos on this record happened in the moment. But did you come into the studio with a general framework of what the record would look like?

EG: We map the songs out before we get to the studio so that we have a guide. Then once the compass is in place everything it allows for us to chase whatever we think is dope at that moment. But what we set out to do before we went in to record, we were able to accomplish and in the end I think it all turned out OK.

RC: What was it like working on his project with your friend Joe Bonamassa, and what did he bring to the process?

EG: It was awesome. Joe brought “Joe.” That’s exactly what I wanted him to do and that helped him bring out the best Eric Gales that he could. I told him to apply the pressure and do everything that I would do if the tables were turned. He just helped me take things a little higher, all the way around.

RC: I understand that Joe offered you his vintage gear for this record and that you passed.

EG: Actually, he did offer the equipment, but then he told me that he didn’t have any issues with my tone, and just said to rock it with what I’ve got instead. He said that even made his job easier. I mean the whole world knows that Joe has this massive arsenal of equipment and it was there at our avail. But he didn’t want to fix something that ain’t broke. There were some nuances that were added where Joe’s arsenal came into play. It wasn’t like that gear was at a rest stop the entire time. We threw some things in there that gave songs a certain texture and tonality.

RC: You have been very loyal to Magneto guitars over the years and continue to play your signature Sonnet Raw Dawg RD3.

EG: That company has been on my side when no one else was and I’m a pretty loyal cat. The guitar is awesome. It’s basically a Stratocaster configuration with a flatter neck. I love the tone. I’m not prevented from playing other stuff but I play and push their guitars because they’ve been with me for so long and it’s something I love to use.

RC: You also have (Gibson) Flying Vs and SGs, and Paul Reed Smiths. Do they ever make their way out on tour?

EG: From time to time, I have [played them]. I actually have one of my brother’s old Flying Vs tucked away and I brought it out for a short stint. It really [depends on] what hits me at that moment, how I feel that day.

RC: For obvious reasons I think of Doyle Bramhall II, another left-handed blues player who plays a right-handed guitar upside down. He has a little side hustle as musical director for Eric Clapton’s band. Is that kind of role anything that would ever interest you?

EG: If the opportunity presented itself I absolutely could see that. For almost five years I played for Lauryn Hill and it was an awesome experience where I had the opportunity to learn from her and be around a whole other facet and style of music. So, yeah, I would definitely be into that.

RC: Who are you listening to these days that everyone should be giving a proper spin?

EG: Well of course there’s Kingfish [Christone “Kingfish” Ingram]. He and a bunch of other cats out there are keeping the six-string alive. So Kingfish is the guy.

 

Header image courtesy of Katrena Wize.

 

The next morning, I rolled over, kissed Melody on the cheek, and told her that I felt the need to hit the road.

“I know,” she said, “you’re a rolling stone. Truth be told, that works for me as well as I start my nursing residency on Monday.”

After packing my gear, I enjoyed a long, leisurely breakfast with Melody’s family and, once they arrived, the folks from the senior home. We parted ways with best wishes and hugs.

Although I’d planned to take the byways, I ended up taking the interstate. Once I’d turned my iron steed west, it just wanted to make a beeline for the barn. We arrived home in a few of days after an uneventful ride.

As I was unpacking, I came across a piece of paper jammed into the pocket of my tank bag. It was a hand-out the Bhagwan had given each of us – a single sheet titled, “The First 10 Steps to Emancipation”:

1. Like snowflakes, each of us is unique.
2. Although snowflakes can transform into ice, water, and vapor, their essence is eternal – as is ours – so we need not fear death as it is only a change of form.
3. As flowing water never becomes snagged on rocks or branches, so our enlightenment must not get snagged on fears, circumstances, desires, emotions, or thoughts.
4. We must control our thoughts as a canal controls water, for thoughts govern feelings, which inform choices and behavior, which determine health, wealth, and happiness.
5. Never fear that which we can’t control; it wastes energy which could be used productively.
6. Happiness is a decision, not a coincidence or consequence.
7. An attitude of gratitude fosters a state of bliss.
8. Love yourself as those you hold in the highest esteem; they are only human too.
9. If your life is no longer of value to you, use it in the service of others.
10. The Creator speaks in a very quiet voice which can be heard only by a still mind, so meditate often, breathe mindfully, and follow your heart.

I sat back and pondered these 10 steps, then pinned them to the wall of my bathroom. I wanted them to be someplace where I’d likely read them every day. I did, until they were memorized. Then I read them till they were part of my consciousness.

When friends told me about the difficulties they were experiencing in life, I’d engage and expand them in an effort to help. For example, when a friend reached middle age, he was particularly disturbed by the prospect of death. #2 came to mind. After a few beers in a saloon on the beach, I walked him to the shoreline, dipped an empty beer glass into the water and asked, “What’s the difference between the water in this glass and the water in the ocean?”

He looked at me quizzically, then answered acerbically, “Nothing of course.”

“You think this is a ridiculous question, don’t you? Let me ask you another one. What’s the difference between a soul contained in a body and a soul returned to its source?”

He didn’t respond, but months later, he told me this analogy had really helped him.

On another occasion, a friend got upset over what he felt was a looming recession. #5 came to mind.

“Let’s assume that it’s inevitable, Ralph. What can you do about it?”

“Absolutely nothing, that’s what’s driving me mad.”

“So why don’t you take your family for a vacation before it hits? At least you’ll have some nice memories to look back on.”

His fears were justified: the economy tanked, along with his business, and he had to declare bankruptcy. But his family had enjoyed a wonderful camping vacation in the National Parks which braced and bonded them for the difficulties which followed. Years later, even his kids thanked me.

Thank the Bhagwan, I thought to myself; I’m just the parrot.

I went out with a girl who seemed to have a serious self-esteem problem. It came to a head one night as we were watching Jeopardy. I was always good at it and answered most of the questions correctly.

“You’re so smart and I’m so stupid,” she exclaimed as she stomped into the kitchen in frustration.

I followed her and asked, “Do you remember that angry customer in your drugstore last week? I don’t know what you told him, but after you talked for a while, I saw you hug him, and he walked out with a smile on his face. I know you think nothing of this, but that takes tremendous talent. How many other people do you know who can do that?”

She thought for a moment and smiled.

“Don’t you think that’s a much more valuable talent than being able to answer trivia questions?”

She smiled again.

#1 came to mind, so I added, “Everyone is unique and has different strengths and weaknesses. Let me give you another example. It looked easy on TV, so I thought I’d put some paneling up on a feature wall of my house. I assumed the walls, ceiling and floor would be square. They weren’t, so there were big gaps when I was done. I had to call my brother, who is a superb carpenter, to come over and fix it. It’s a good thing we all have different talents, don’t you think?”

She gave me a hug.

Spreading the Bhagwan’s wisdom to others has been fulfilling and rewarding.

After her residency, Melody moved from South Dakota to Florida. She said she never again wanted to experience a prairie winter. We corresponded for a few months, but when she fell in love with a radiologist, she said it would be inappropriate for her to stay in touch with a former lover. Although it stung me, I knew she was right. I thanked her for introducing me to the Bhagwan and the delightful experiences we’d shared together.

Her parents told me the following summer that a fall wedding was planned. They had a child the year after. I stayed at her parents’ cabins during several subsequent Black Hills motorcycle rallies and spent as much time there as at the rally itself.  That’s because I was able to talk the renegades into staying there also. It was hilarious to watch them interact with the seniors in the saloon. Seemed like some of them were cut from the same rebellious cloth. I even worked the bar again, which earned me free drinks and accommodations in Melody’s former bedroom.

I rode past Belle Fourche one day to visit the Bhagwan. When I got to the site of his Airstream, there was nothing there. I was told by a nearby farmer that he’d returned to India. He didn’t know if or when the Bhagwan would return. I was profoundly disappointed.

I never saw him again, but am grateful that he inspired me to shake my childhood conditioning and start me on the road to reprogramming myself. There are many more steps on that road, but once I was headed in the right direction, I picked up speed. All during this journey, I’ve endeavored to make my life as fruitful as his to those who are receptive to his wisdom.

 

This series began in Issue 143, has appeared consecutively in every issue following, and concludes here.

Header image courtesy of Pexels.com/Djordje Petrovic. Image of couple saying goodbye courtesy of Pexels.com/cottonbro studio.

I might be a bit of an outlier. I typically don’t play Christmas music all that often during the holidays, since we are bombarded with it daily from November 1 onward any time we head out in public – I’m usually burned out by November 2. Despite that, I’ll spin holiday favorites one or two days during the season. Although I’ve collected several dozen Christmas/holiday titles, there is a core group of albums and individual songs I always gravitate to. I grew up with a few of them, others I’ve picked up along the way, and the most recent are only a few years old. There are also a handful of recordings that I spin occasionally (every few years), or include parts of in a playlist.

With that in mind, and in no particular order, here are some holiday favorites of mine that have endured over the years. Links in the article will lead either to further YouTube samples, or an entry on the Discogs site for clarification on which title to seek out. Enjoy!

The Mavericks: Hey! Merry Christmas!
One of my more recent finds, the production on this record is reminiscent of the sound of Phil Spector, and all but two of the songs are newly written by the band’s leader, Raul Malo, and a variety of collaborators. The most infectious track is the album’s lead-off track, “Christmas Time Is (Coming ‘Round Again)” but there are many highlights throughout.

Ella Fitzgerald: Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas
This album is a delight all the way through, with the upbeat arrangements of Frank De Vol backing Ella on a variety of holiday favorites. Considering Ella’s jazz credentials, this is an album you can play for everyone in the family, even those who might not be jazz fans.

Various Artists: ¡Something Festive!
This was an A&M Records Christmas album released through the B.F. Goodrich tire stores. Since the Tijuana Brass was the only group on the label to have released a full Christmas album (below), the balance of the tracks were taken from existing A&M albums, or appear only on this record, such as Pete Jolly’s “It’s The Most Wonderful Time,” Brasil ‘66’s “The Christmas Song,” the Baja Marimba Band’s “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” and Burt Bacharach’s own version of “The Bell That Couldn’t Jingle.” This one was never released digitally, but there is an expanded version uploaded to YouTube with the 10 original tracks, plus additional A&M Christmas tracks from the same era.

Vince Guaraldi Trio: A Charlie Brown Christmas
One highlight of my younger years was waiting for the annual showing of the “Peanuts” special on TV. It wasn’t until the early CD era that I realized there was an album of music from the special and bought the very first Fantasy CD version immediately. My most recent copy was the Kevin Gray 33⅓ RPM remastering on vinyl for Analogue Productions – the detail on that record is amazing. (I missed the earlier Hoffman/Gray 45 RPM pressing, unfortunately.) Guaraldi magically captures the feel of Charles Schulz’s creations with these songs.

Nat King Cole: “The Christmas Song”
There may be other versions out there, but for me, this is the definitive one. Cole recorded this a few times during his career, but this version is the one that most of us have heard.

Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass: Christmas Album
I grew up with this album in the house, hearing it annually from the year it was released. In typical Alpert fashion, the songs all have unique arrangements. Herb takes a vocal turn on a Burt Bacharach/Hal David song “The Bell That Couldn’t Jingle,” and the choral introductions were all arranged by the great Shorty Rogers. It’s still a solid album end-to-end. Two of these tracks were included on the aforementioned ¡Something Festive! compilation.

John Pizzarelli: Let’s Share Christmas
I don’t like most jazz Christmas albums I have heard, as I’d rather hear melody than noodling. Thankfully, Pizzarelli is more a crooner in the style of the Nat King Cole trio, and Pizzarelli’s trio is backed by a full big band, making this a perfect holiday album full of Christmas standards and a couple of originals.

The Brian Setzer Orchestra: Boogie Woogie Christmas, Dig That Crazy Christmas, and Rockin’ Rudolph
I’ve been a fan of Setzer’s since the days of the Stray Cats and have long enjoyed his holiday recordings. In fact, of the four times I’ve seen Setzer in concert, two of those were his Christmas extravaganzas with the full big band. (If you aren’t in the holiday spirit, I guarantee his Christmas show will get you there instantly!) One highlight for big band fans from Boogie Woogie Christmas is the Les Brown arrangement of the Nutcracker Suite.

Speaking of the Nutcracker, there are times I really don’t want to hear any of the standard holiday music and will put on something a little different. My favorite version of the complete Nutcracker ballet was recorded around 1958 (?) on the Mercury Living Presence label, with the London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Antal Dorati, and reissued on SACD.

Shorty Rogers: The Swingin’ Nutcracker
This album is for times when I don’t want a classical version. It features an all-star cast of popular West Coast jazz musicians, with tracks split between Shorty’s big band and a saxophone quintet backed by Shorty’s small combo. Like nutty! Here’s the Overture (mistakenly titled “Overdrive”):

Various Artists: The Rock ‘n’ Roll Era: Jingle Bell Rock
I quickly built up a collection of “oldies” on CD when I subscribed to this Time-Life series for a couple of years. They weren’t the best-sounding versions out there, but covered a lot of ground. Little did I know that the contents of the Jingle Bell Rock edition would become perennial favorites, with tracks from the Drifters, the Supremes, Brenda Lee, Jack Scott, the O’Jays, Elton John, and many others.

Michael Franks: Watching The Snow
This is a unique album of holiday and winter-themed songs, complete with Franks’ clever lyrics and his laid-back yet competent jazz combo backing him. It’s a refreshing antidote to the same old same old.

Various Artists: A GRP Christmas Back in the mid 1980s and early 1990s, I was discovering some of the artists on the GRP label like David Benoit, Kevin Eubanks, and many others, and this CD included many of the artists I was listening to at the time. It also includes tracks by Diane Schuur, label co-founder Dave Grusin (the “G” in GRP), Lee Ritenour, Gary Burton, Chick Corea, and plenty of others. Kevin Eubanks’ unique arrangement of “Silver Bells” is a favorite.

Here are some honorable mentions from my collection – I may not choose them every year, but they are still standouts that are enjoyable listens.

Carpenters: Christmas Portrait
The Christmas Portrait album is a brilliantly sequenced holiday program that flows perfectly from beginning to end, complete with an overture. Locate an original vinyl copy, or the rare German CD reissue of Christmas Portrait (recalled shortly after its release), to hear the proper original version of this album. A doctored version, awash in too much reverb, is Disc One of the 2-CD Christmas Collection. The Special Edition CD version mixes up tracks with the weak An Old-Fashioned Christmas album and suffers from the upset in sequencing.

Henry Mancini: A Merry Mancini Christmas
Side one is upbeat, where side two is reflective. The original “Carol For Another Christmas” is a standout.

Peggy Lee: Christmas
This is a CD compilation of tracks from a handful of her appearances on various Christmas albums for Capitol Records over the years. Thankfully it’s a tight selection and each one is a treat. The CD is uncredited, but some of the tracks (originally from her album Christmas Carousel) were arranged by Billy May.

Raul Malo: Marshmallow World & Other Holiday Favorites
While The Mavericks were on hiatus, leader Raul Malo cut a cozy little album of holiday songs.

J.D. McPherson: Socks
The title track is an ode to every kid’s favorite gift, and like all the rest of the songs, is an original written for the album.

David Benoit: Christmas Time and Remembering Christmas
The former album predates his recordings for GRP Records, and contains the excellent “Carol of the Bells.” The latter is from GRP and contains a couple of his versions of the “Peanuts” (Vince Guaraldi) holiday favorites like “Skating” and “Christmas Is Coming.” Great choices if you like jazz piano on the lighter side.

Dean Martin: A Winter Romance
Where else can you hear Dino sing the phrase “Rudy the red-beaked reindeer” in that voice that seems made for wintertime tunes beside the fireplace?

Jack Jones: The Jack Jones Christmas Album
A hip little 1960s album with Jones crooning to a selection of familiar Christmas melodies.

Lou Rawls: Merry Christmas Ho! Ho! Ho!
An album from Lou’s mid-1960s soul-jazz era on Capitol, with a mix of familiar favorites and lesser-known songs.

The Manhattan Transfer: The Christmas Album Their lush four-part vocal harmonies and Johnny Mandel’s arrangements are perfect for the season. Guests include Tony Bennett, Jack Sheldon, Harry “Sweets” Edison, and Pete Christlieb.

The Ramsey Lewis Trio: Sound of Christmas This is one of Ramsey’s albums from his Cadet Records catalog, with the trio on side one of the record, and side two adding a string section arranged by Riley Hampton. Ramsey also co-authored the title track and “Christmas Blues,” the rest being holiday standards.

Let’s hear about some of your favorites in the comments. What do you return to year after year?

From the Rudy Clan to the rest of the Copper staff and our readers – Happy Holidays!

 

Header image courtesy of Pixabay.com/Jill Wellington.

In the 1990s I worked at the North Star Pub in Manhattan’s South Street Seaport, a stone’s throw from the East River and in view of the old Fulton Fish Market and the Brooklyn Bridge just a few blocks away. This was before the fish market had been moved to a regulated facility in the Bronx. Even though the city tried to subdue the remaining gangsters calling shots behind market stalls, the waterfront was a place where the expression “sleeping with the fishes” wasn’t a punch line to a joke but a viable threat. I usually started very early in the morning, making the stew, chowder, and Shepherd’s pie for the lunch rush of bankers and insurance men. Each day, Stuffy Shmitt, the bartender, would sweep into the bar in his black leather duster coat, pop his head into the kitchen to say hi, and then prepare his breakfast of cigarettes, vodka, and orange juice. By the time the waitresses arrived, the pub was full of music, cigarette smoke, and cups of coffee spiked with Irish whiskey for those who needed a jolt.

Stuffy often arrived at work after a full night out at any number of saloons, after-hours joints, or third-shift bars for blue collar guys. New York City was a place you could drink all day, if you had the inclination. I got to know Stuffy over the years, attending his performances and hanging out in rehearsal spaces, but I usually had to be home early for morning classes. I could never keep up with Stuffy. There were a few instances when he hosted me at the bar and I barely remember how I got home to my futon 100 blocks away. Stuffy knew how to mix a proper drink. It was a fun era and no one lived the rock and roll lifestyle harder than Stuffy, who gigged at historic rooms such as The Bitter End, Don Hill’s, Ear Inn, CBGB, Kenny’s Castaways, Luna Lounge, Cafe Wha?, Max’s Kansas City and more. He even learned the boogie from blues legend Freddie King in the dressing room of some long-gone club.

Back in his hometown of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Stuffy decided to escape school and a chaotic childhood to follow in the footsteps of the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and the Who. He made his first record at 16, and at 17 won a spot in a showcase at The Bitter End on Bleecker Street in the 1970s. A local producer was so impressed by his talent that he took Stuffy to Electric Lady Studios to lay down some tracks. The dream of every aspiring young musician was coming true and his Call to Adventure was fully underway.

Stuffy might never return to New York, so if you’re ever in East Nashville, stop by and see him at The 5 Spot. He’s clean and sober and doesn’t even smoke, but he can refer to you to what’s happening at cool spots like The Bowery Vault, The Basement East, and Brown’s Diner. And you don’t have to wait till midnight to catch a great show, because there’s music happening all the time. Also, check out his albums. Comparisons among artists are generally a disservice to all parties; however, I would agree with similarities to Elvis Costello, Warren Zevon, John Prine, Tom Waits, and Ry Cooder. Visit his website and peruse the discography. I recommend Nothing is Real, Other People’s Stuff, Stuff Happens, and Cherry for a primer of Shmitt humor, raw emotion, and even joy.

Stuffy says he’s done whining and writing about trauma, so he chooses to live by a new credo, one he saw on a bumper sticker at The Basement East, “Get Happier F*ckers.” Sometimes a simple revelation takes a lifetime to realize – if it happens at all. After a long journey through battles, transformation, and maturity, Stuffy now has a unique position after so many years spent mastering his craft. Be forewarned: he’s in a heroic place of true artistic freedom that usually exists outside of predictability, comfort, and security – that’s how it is when you follow your bliss.
All images courtesy of Stuffy Shmitt.

Have you ever eaten in a restaurant and noticed something along the lines of: “Chef’s Special – Deconstructed Steak Pie,” or perhaps, “Exploded Fish Pie?” OK, I admit, I made up the fish pie and imagine it would probably be an aesthetic disaster, even if it tasted good. But I guess that serves the illustration, that the “first bite” is with the eyes, but perhaps, it tastes just as good anyway.

We all like gear and equipment which looks as well as sounds great, but sometimes a truly unattractive monstrosity, a real beast of a speaker, may be far less than visually appealing and yet sounds sublime. Some professional audio PA speakers fit into this category. They fulfil their purpose incredibly well, and yet you wouldn’t choose to purchase something that clunky-looking for your audio or home theater system. It’s the age-old issue of function over form.

Would the Jaguar E-Type have been as popular if it didn’t have those outrageous curves and genius-inspired contours? Those who own or have driven them may be honest enough to tell you that the rear-wheel handling takes some getting used to and that the top speed isn’t particularly spectacular. And yet, there is an undying passion for this car because of its beauty, and rightfully so. It is one of the most iconic car designs of all time.

When we love something enough, we overlook its character flaws. In fact, sometimes the imperfections create even more appeal. Have you noticed that when enough people enthuse madly about a given thing, you may be drawn into a tractor beam-like attraction for it? You could call it a product’s cult of personality, the kind of alluring mystique that marketing people would give their hind teeth for.

The very significant component that makes the experience of ownership truly special, is of course you, the end user. Until you try or buy something in person, a specification sheet is just a series of informative promises.

Use a sound meter to measure the volume in dB at your listening position. (You don’t even have to buy one; free phone apps are available.) Bear in mind, you can also move physically closer to your speakers to enjoy greater volume – and you won’t have to spend a thing on new amp or speakers! A practical consideration when deciding on your speaker layout is to place your speakers about one foot into the room from the front wall and in from your side walls according to the manufacturer’s instructions, and work from there.

The beauty of using more sensitive speakers is that any given amplifier can drive them more readily than less sensitive ones, and work within its “comfort zone” to deliver a more accurate audio signal.

Faithful frequency reproduction depends on many factors, but within the speaker specifications, the nominal impedance rating, measured in ohms, will give insight into how easy or hard it is to drive the speaker. A four-ohm speaker is harder to drive than an eight-ohm unit, for example. (By the numbers, it seems counterintuitive, but lower-impedance speakers need more current to deliver the same voltage into the speaker, making the amp work harder. Also, these ratings are for nominal impedance – it actually varies with frequency. In general, most high-quality home stereo loudspeakers are made to operate at a nominal eight ohms.

It may also be helpful to read my article, “Speaker Sensitivity and Room Size” in Issue 149.

Love the Room You’re With

Taking the time to find out what your room really “needs” can produce even better results than anticipated, and avoid the confirmation bias that something is good just because you own it. This is not to say that you should never buy what you want!

It’s also important to think about the general listening (volume) levels you prefer, and your desired seating distance from the speakers. Striking the balance of maintaining simplicity of setup, combined with great looks and audio performance may be more challenging than it appears at first. It may also sometimes be expensive, but unless something is truly overpriced for the componentry, design and performance provided (a subject for another article), keep in mind that you’ll be benefiting from the research and development of the engineers that have already been through this process and done the extensive legwork for you.

What else may help with striking this balance? Last week I was talking to a well-known brand’s service engineer (about replacing the capacitors in my old speakers). He talked about the importance of identifying your intentions for your audio system. He noted that if you set out listening for problems, you will likely find some. But if you just want to enjoy listening to your music, you will likely do just that. Similarly, Sean Olive of Harman has been known to say that critical listening can destroy your pleasure in listening to music, because you are setting out to critique what you hear. With this mindset, next to nothing would be pleasurable to listen to.

******

Here we are back to our deconstructed pie. If our focus is on enjoying the meal, perhaps it’s better not to scrutinize its ingredients or unconventional nature. Of course, the ingredients must be good in both a meal and an audio system, whether fresh, well-prepared food or high-quality, well-engineered components.

And remember, the magic of the music is in the emotion of the artistic performance, over and above the reproduction of it.

Header image: Enjoy your music! Courtesy of Pexels.com/Tima Miroshnichenko.

The full telecast of the November 5, 2022 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (RRHoF) induction ceremony is now available on HBO – all four hours of it. Although I attended the event live back in 2019, I avoid it most years just because of the frustrating mixture of joy, confusion, and annoyance it brings. In case you skipped the RRHoF for the same reason, I watched for you and have listed this year’s inductees in order. I will do my best to reserve my complaints until the end.

Duran Duran

This band supplied the soundtrack to my early teens. Unfortunately, guitarist Andy Taylor was not present due to health issues. I was a casual fan with more of a penchant for Adam Ant, but my female classmates l-o-v-e-d Duran Duran, and so I spent hours playing their hits when I DJ’d school dances. The videos were enormously entertaining with Nick Rhodes, John Taylor, Roger Taylor (not from Queen), and Simon Le Bon all looking otherworldly in high hair, headbands, and makeup. They grew on me, especially the Rio album of 1982. If you like solid bass lines, check out John Taylor’s work on that record. By the way, none of the Taylors are related.

In Issue 150 I listed my 150 desert island favorite rock albums, and followed up with a selection of reviews from that list in Issue 151 and Issue 166. I realized the list is mostly a trip down memory lane, because, as noted in previous installments, I’ve had a lifelong love affair with favorite albums I first heard, from when I was a teenager to around when I hit the untrustworthy age of 30. (Well, not really, but remember when we were young enough to take the saying “don’t trust anyone over 30” seriously?)

Thanks for the memories is a saying I do take to heart. When I was a kid, my friends and I would never have dreamed that the music we grew up with would continue to have such influence 50 years later – or that some of the bands would still be touring! Rock on.

Be-Bop Deluxe, Axe Victim

Singer/songwriter/guitarist Bill Nelson is one of the most underrated and brilliant rock guitarists to ever walk the planet, with a fluid, melodic and virtuosic style that leaves most pentatonic-scale weedeelee-wee guitarists in the red-shifted interstellar dust. There are those who prefer the Stevie Ray Vaughan style of blues rock, and those like me who’d rather listen to more out-there guitarists like Robert Fripp, Frank Zappa, Phil Manzanera…and Bill Nelson. 1974’s Axe Victim showed Nelson throwing down the guitaristic gauntlet straight out of the gate with the classic title track; his showcase, “Adventures in a Yorkshire Landscape”; and “Night Creatures,” a wistful reflection of the glam-rock age. Nelson hadn’t quite come into his own in terms of songwriting, which is uneven here, but man, that guitar playing. If you dig rock guitar and have never heard Nelson, your life is not yet complete. The sound is really good too, if not quite audiophile-demo quality.

Be-Bop Deluxe, Futurama

It took me a while to get into Be-Bop Deluxe because I thought they’d be a rockabilly band, not my favorite genre though I’m not immune to its go-cat-go charms. Bzzzt! Wrong! Futurama finds the band delving more deeply into, no surprise given the title, science-fiction and dream-world themes and imagery. Nelson and the band’s playing is less raw, more refined and elegant, with a thick, chewy, bottomless guitar tone. The songwriting has stepped up, with “Maid In Heaven” “Music In Dreamland” and the majestic “Sister Seagull” standing as Be-Bop classic of classics.

Be-Bop Deluxe, Sunburst Finish

If the first two albums were good, 1976’s Sunburst Finish is off the Krell 10-times-10-times-10 meter. This stunning collection of songs has it all – memorable melodies, rocking ensemble playing by Nelson, Andy Clark (keyboards), Charles Tumahai (bass, vocals) and Simon Fox (drums), rich production, and a mix of otherworldly and down-to-earth lyrics. Nelson’s guitar playing…good lord. At the time Bill Nelson was hailed as the next guitar hero, but he walked away from it all at the height of Be-Bop Deluxe’s career. That said, since then he’s released more than 100 albums, and that’s not a typo. If he’d only recorded this one album, his place in guitar-legend history would still be assured. “Fair Exchange” is a hyperdrive opener, “Ships In the Night” showcases the individual talents of the band members in a fun, frolicking number, and “Life In the Air Age” manages to be wistful about the future before it happens.

Then, there’s the breathtaking “Crying to the Sky.” I remember reading a review in Trouser Press where the writer (it might have been Ira Kaplan) said that the guitar solo was the greatest anyone had ever played or will ever play, or words to that effect.

For an in-depth look at Be-Bop Deluxe, check out John Seetoo’s article in Issue 155.

New Order, Substance

This 1985 collection is a best-of from these electronic dancefloor kings and queens, collecting early essential tracks like “Ceremony” and “Everything’s Gone Green” with smash hits like “Shellshock” and “Blue Monday,” one of the most powerful and influential club tracks of all time (you’ve heard it on that Volvo commercial). The songwriting is uneven at best, but the great songs, like “Bizarre Love Triangle” and “Perfect Kiss” are absolutely stunning, with Bernard Sumner’s warbly vocals and minimalist jagged guitar riding perfectly on top of a pounding tempest of synths and electronic and acoustic drums. My original US vinyl 2-LP set has sensational, demonstration-quality sound. You want to show off your audio system? Play “Blue Monday” and make sure you don’t blow your woofers – but the original CD version is utterly terrible, with anemic bass, and the various other versions I’ve heard are inconsistent, as are the plethora of remixes out there. But find a good version of “Perfect Kiss” (I recommend the one on New Order’s Substance collection) turn it up and prepare to be wowed. (Unfortunately this YouTube clip is a pale sonic shadow of what this sounds like in high-res or vinyl):

Spinners

The third album by The Spinners is a smooth helping of R&B heaven. (OK, this is a best-of rock list, but I like this album too much to exclude it.) Produced by Philly Soul architect Thom Bell, this album has the smash hits “I’ll Be Around,” “One of a Kind (Love Affair)” and the sublime “Could it Be I’m Falling in Love.” The production is lush but not over the top; the vocals are tight and beyond soulful. I should have gone with one of their greatest hits compilations – life is not complete without hearing the group’s electrifying “It’s a Shame” – but Spinners has sentimental value to me for introducing me to the band on vinyl and for containing some favorite earlier hits. The sound quality is excellent. And how can you not love Ronnie Baker’s bass guitar work on “I’ll Be Around?”

The Beatles, Revolver

In the wake of the recent Revolver remixes and all the ink that’s been spilled about them (including articles by Jay Jay French in Issue 177 and Issue 176), now seems like a good time to comment on the now-fashionable sentiment that Revolver is in fact the best Beatles album, eclipsing Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, which has appeared on more best albums of all time lists than anyone can keep track of. Though it’s really kind of impossible to pick a “best” Beatles album, if I have to, it’s Revolver, and I’m not jumping on some revisionist bandwagon; I’ve felt that way for a long time.

The songs are extraordinary, and kaleidoscopically varied, and part of the DNA of more than one generation: do I really need to go into a play-by-play about the brilliance of songs like “Taxman,” “Tomorrow Never Knows,” “For No One,” “Got to Get You Into My Life,” and something as utterly gorgeous as ”Eleanor Rigby?” The Beatles’ spirit and inventiveness and sheer level of playing as a rock band are unstoppable here. Whenever I hear the dual-guitars of “And Your Bird Can Sing,” I still shake my head in wonderment, and one doesn’t need drugs to be hypnotized by “Tomorrow Never Knows.”

I’m just going to come out and say it: I think the Beatles peaked with Revolver, and that the best album of 1967 was Love’s Forever Changes.

The Beatles, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

All that said, only a fool would argue that Sgt. Pepper’s wasn’t an era-defining landmark. Those who were around during the Summer of 1967 can tell you its influence back then was remarkable. Our lives haven’t been the same since. It really was part of a social revolution – people simply didn’t look like that before the Summer of Love, nor listen to music like that: “rock,” as opposed to “rock and roll,” really came into its FM-radio own in 1967. Looking back, I’m struck by the fact that Sgt. Pepper’s seems more whimsical than cosmic, with songs like “Good Morning, Good Morning” and “When I’m Sixty-Four” more than counterbalancing heavyweights like “Within You Without You” and the undeniable mind blowing genius of “A Day In the Life.”

If you had to send one album from 1967, a year that also gave us Are You Experienced, the Doors’ debut, and John Wesley Harding, on a satellite to an advanced alien world, yeah, this would be the one.

The Beatles, Rubber Soul

But Rubber Soul is so much fun to listen to! C’mon, “Drive My Car,” “Nowhere Man,” “If I Needed Someone,” “The Word”: just flat-out irresistible. “Norwegian Wood” is the song every aspiring songwriter wishes they’d written, “In My Life” strikes a perfect balance between sentiment and sentimental (forgive me for indulging in critic-speak), and the rest of this 1965 album…”Michelle,” “It’s Only Love,” “I’m Looking Through You”…what’s not to love? Though I forgot how “What Goes On” goes.

Ultimately, for me, the bottom line with the Beatles is: how did they do it? How did they record more than 200 songs, most of which would be a career-defining hit for anyone else? Something like that will never happen again.

Motown 1’s, Various Artists

I’m cheating again with including another compilation album, but is anyone going to deny the greatness (mostly) of this collection, and these songs? Aside from a couple of clunkers – “Endless Love” doesn’t do it for this rocker, and why include Michael McDonald’s version of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” when Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s original is untoppable, except maybe by Diana Ross – Motown 1’s (hey, I didn’t proofread the cover art) is a stupefyingly fantastic collection of Motown’s greatest hits, which means some of the greatest singles of all time. (Listing all my Motown favorites, or anyone’s, would make an article in itself.) Rather than blather on, why don’t I just list them, as the list speaks for itself?

“Please, Mr. Postman” – The Marvelettes
“(Love Is Like a) Heat Wave” – Martha and the Vandellas
“My Guy” – Mary Wells
“My Girl” – The Temptations
“Where Did Our Love Go” – The Supremes
“Stop! In the Name of Love” – The Supremes
“Shotgun” – Junior Walker and the All-Stars
“I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch)” – Four Tops
“Uptight (Everything’s Alright)” – Stevie Wonder
“Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” – The Temptations
“Reach Out I’ll Be There” – Four Tops
“Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing” – Marvin Gays and Tammi Terrell
“I Heard It Through the Grapevine” – Marvin Gaye
“I Want You Back” – The Jackson 5
“War” – Edwin Starr
“The Tears of a Clown” – Smokey Robinson and the Miracles
“What’s Going On” – Marvin Gaye
“Let’s Get It On” – Marvin Gaye
“Love Machine (Part 1)” – The Miracles
“Don’t Leave Me This Way” – Thelma Houston
“Three Times a Lady” – Commodores
“Rhythm of the Night” – DeBarge
“I’ll Make Love to You” – Boyz II Men
“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” – Michael McDonald

Leonard Cohen, The Essential Leonard Cohen

You, know, writing about these albums, I’m really starting to feel out of my league. What can you say about artists like Leonard Cohen that hasn’t already been said? Well, I’d like to think he would want me to try. I’m cheating yet again by including a greatest hits compilation rather than any individual album, but that’s because of how I’ve heard Leonard Cohen over the decades: ”Suzanne” in a college dorm room, “Joan of Arc” on a cold, high dark night at Harry Pearson’s house on the Infinity IRS system, Jennifer Warnes’ version of “Famous Blue Raincoat” at 50 audio shows that have all melded into one, and “Hallelujah”…well, I can’t remember when or where I first heard it…it simply is. When I first heard Cohen I didn’t think his voice or his arrangements were much, although what breathing human would not be gripped by the feeling of “Suzanne” even if you didn’t understand a word he was saying? Perhaps it goes without saying that over time, I’ve grown to find his music crucial. My mom loved him too, so these days it’s hard for me to listen to him without either smiling or getting choked up, or both.

Jeff Beck Group, Rough and Ready

Of course, Jeff Beck is one of the greatest guitarists of all time. Of course, the George Martin-produced Blow By Blow is rightfully acclaimed as a landmark of jazz/rock/instrumental fusion. There’s no denying the raw power of Beck’s playing in the Yardbirds and in defining guitar moments like “Shapes of Things.” Beck’s use of the tremolo (actually vibrato) bar of the Fender Stratocaster alone is enough to secure him in the pantheon of rock guitar greats. But my personal favorite is 1971’s Rough and Ready, where he’s joined by vocalist Bobby Tench, keyboardist Max Middleton, Clive Chaman on bass and Cozy Powell on drums. The soulful (if hardly profound) rock songs, Tench’s gritty vocals, Middleton’s lushly satisfying Rhodes and piano playing and the rhythm section’s pounding drive are the perfect complement to Beck’s ripping guitar work.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Are You Experienced

When I was first learning to play the guitar, I remember talking with a drummer friend on the school bus about guitar players. He asked if I’d heard of Jimi Hendrix and I said no. He freaked out and replied, “What? You want to be a guitar player and you haven’t heard Hendrix?” I think this was 1968 (I remember the conversation better than the year; the album debuted in 1967), and I asked my parents to get me Are You Experienced for Hanukkah/Christmas.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to hear. I thought “playing the guitar” was stuff like the Ventures, folkie chord strumming, cowboy twangin’. The first dissonant fuzzed-out notes of “Purple Haze” hit, and I literally could not comprehend what I was hearing. What was he playing? How was he getting those sounds: sirens, flying saucers, echoes from the deep, buzzing alien creatures? It was completely beyond my experience, otherworldly.

I’m still trying to figure out how Hendrix got those beautiful, mesmerizing and terrifying sounds. So is a good portion of the rest of the guitar world. We know the ingredients: a Fender Stratocaster played upside down and strung lefty, an Arbiter Fuzz Face, a VOX wah wah, a Uni-Vibe, a Marshall stack and other big, loud amps, an octave pedal, engineer Eddie Kramer, effects designer Roger Mayer, a background in R&B and hard knocks, the indispensable talents of bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell… But his touch, his feel, his unerring sense of rhythm and phrasing, and Hendrix’ indefinable mojo, that sound, are something no one else will ever duplicate. To say nothing of stratospherically great songs like “Manic Depression,” “I Don’t Live Today,” “Fire” and “Third Stone from the Sun.” My head is spinning just thinking about them. And to think that Hendrix didn’t think much of himself as a singer and that one of my friend’s wives calls Hendrix “boy’s noise.”

Well…his influence and impact on electric guitar playing is staggering. It’s undeniable: electric guitar playing can be sharply defined into two eras, Before Hendrix, and After Hendrix.

The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Electric Ladyland

While it has its transcendent moments – has an album ever come to a more powerful conclusion than the trifecta of “House Burning Down,” “All Along the Watchtower” and “Voodoo Child (Slight Return”)? – the songs aren’t nearly as strong as on Are You Experienced, and in like the Beatles’ “White Album,” I think this double-LP would have been better as a single album. (Sacrilege, I know.) Still…the guitar sounds are, in the true sense of the word, incredible, and the power and the majesty of the music when at its best, undeniable. What guitar player or musician hasn’t shaken their head in awe at Hendrix’s playing here?

Perhaps some of you have noticed that I skipped the Experience’s Axis: Bold as Love. I won’t say that I don’t like it, but – OK, for the most part, I don’t like it. Mostly because what guitar players and maybe others will find an asinine reason: it’s the album where Hendrix seemingly discovered the “in-between” or “out of phase” pickup selector settings of the Stratocaster, and overused it throughout the album. (Technically, this setting isn’t out of phase, but in guitarland it’s become commonly-used, like the grammatically unfortunate “end result.”) For examples of this sound, listen to Mark Knopfler’s guitar on Dire Straits’ “Sultans of Swing” or Steve Miller’s on “Rock ‘n Me,” a song that will never make any favorites list of mine. Or maybe I’m just getting old, kvetching about pickup selector settings. I’ll just listen to the wah wah pedal on Electric Ladyland’s “Burning of the Midnight Lamp” to snap myself out of it.

Well, eh…no, according to my wife.

A joke goes like this:

My wife says to me, “You either have hearing loss or Alzheimer’s; you’re deaf and you don’t pay attention to me!”

I went to see my doctor the following week for a checkup.

The doctor says to me, “if I had a dollar for every guy over 60 who walks in here and tells me his wife thinks he has Alzheimer’s or dementia I would be a millionaire!

If you tell me that you don’t know what to do with your car keys, I’ll send you to a clinic; short of that I will send you to an audiologist for a hearing test.”

I then go for a hearing test.

The audiologist says: “Mr. French, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that considering your age and occupation, your hearing loss isn’t all that bad and can be greatly improved by hearing aids.

Regarding your wife’s specific concerns, however — you probably are actually not paying any attention to her!”

Let the games begin…

About a year ago I went on a hearing aid journey.

My audiologist is a friend who has seemingly unlimited patience (meaning tolerance for my experimentation). Given the very high cost of hearing aids, I wanted to know that the ones I decided to buy were the best for me.

This sounds like a reasonable and logical approach, right?

Pietro Locatelli (1695 – 1764) is one of those gifted Baroque composers who somehow didn’t remain a well-known name through the centuries. He may not be a hidden Bach or Handel (or even Corelli), but some recent recordings demonstrate that his music deserves the notice it’s been getting.

Born and raised in the Italian Alpine town of Bergamo, Locatelli was trained on the violin in that city’s rich cathedral culture. As a teen he made his way to Rome to continue his studies, probably including a short stint with Corelli himself. Locatelli soon found work, playing in churches and in the households of a prince and a cardinal. He did a lot of traveling in the 1720s to Mantua, Venice, Munich, and Berlin, and earned a name for himself as both a performer and a composer. After that successful decade, he spent the last 35 years of his life in Amsterdam, out of the limelight, supporting himself as a music editor and violin teacher.

However, he continued to publish his own music while in Amsterdam, even if he wrote less of it. One example is the Sei concerti a quattro opera VII (Six Concertos for Four, Op. 7), published in 1741. Ensemble Barocco Carlo Antonio Marino has recorded these on the Tactus label, under the direction of Natale Arnoldi. The “Four” in the title is not literally four musicians, or even four instruments, but rather four instrumental sections: first and second violins, violas, and basso continuo (cello, bass, and harpsichord). For this recording, the total is 11 musicians, so still an intimate group.

Arnoldi’s tempos are sometimes baffling. This moderately paced final movement of Concerto No. 1 is marked “vivace,” which one would expect to be much faster.

These Op. 7 concertos show the then middle-aged composer exhibiting a surprising sensitivity to then-recent changes in musical tastes. More pre-classical than Baroque in certain ways, the pieces have the kind of relationship between violin soloist and orchestra that is associated with the middle of the 18^th century. There aren’t the predictable “tutti” vs. “soli” sections where the orchestra trades off with the soloist; instead, Locatelli provides a balance and lets the soloist interact with the other voices in a more sophisticated way. The use of chords under a melody – as opposed to counterpoint of multiple voices – is another indicator of the new style.

While the Andante first movement of Concerto No. 4 is a good example of the galant style, Arnoldi simply does not have control of his players. Pre-classical music is defined by its elegance, a trait missing here.

There is far more to admire on Il labarinto armónico – Three Violin Concertos, a Bis label recording by violinist and conductor Ilya Gringolts and the Finnish Baroque Orchestra. The three concertos are taken from Locatelli’s Op. 3 set of 12 pieces, published as L’Arte del violino. An interesting essay by Marianne Rônez in the CD booklet explains that these works demonstrate his own virtuosity and demand it of others – in both hands. The left hand gets a workout through “extensions, octaves, unprepared tenths, double stops, arpeggios, simultaneous trills and melody – a sort of ‘devil’s trill’ anticipating Tartini – and playing in extremely high positions.” The bowing arm is put through the paces of “arpeggio, staccato, and fast détaché.”

Indeed, Locatelli is considered a kind of forerunner of Nicolò Paganini (1782 – 1840), who pushed violin playing and composing for that instrument into a dizzying new stratosphere. The comparison makes sense when you consider that each of the Op. 3 concertos contains two movements labeled “Capriccio,” a wild, virtuosic genre that Paganini would become known for. In the first Capriccio of Locatelli’s Concerto in D Major, Op. 3, No. 12, Gringolts is up for the challenge.

This music also has commonalities with an earlier violin repertoire, the “Stylus phantasticus” of early 17^th-century Germany and Italy. As with that style, Locatelli allows the violinist great expressive freedom, building in an ad libitum section to each capriccio movement. Even in the Largo introduction to the second movement of Op. 3, No. 12, the violin is like an exotic butterfly, flitting about, landing, exploring, flashing its wings.

The Finnish Baroque Orchestra by turns supports Gringolts and stays out of his way, always with clarity of purpose and a graceful tone.

Gringolts has not been the only one admiring Locatelli’s capriccios lately. On Luca Fanfoni’s Dynamic Records release, 24 Capricci Plus One, the violinist extracts only the capriccio movements from the Op. 3 Concertos, adding in another, nicknamed “Prova dell’intonazione” (Test of Intonation) from Op. 6, No. 12.

Here the comparison to Paganini is unmistakable. In fact, Fanfoni asked Paganini biographer Danilo Prefumo to write the booklet essay. While Prefumo acknowledges Paganini’s debt to the previous generation of innovative violinists (Ignaz Pleyel, G.B. Viotti), there is no proof that the famed virtuoso studied Locatelli. However, says Prefumo, “the affinities between Locatelli’s and Paganini’s capricci are such that they do not seem simple coincidence.”

By all accounts, Paganini’s playing possessed a wildness that frightened people. He was banned from appearing in some towns because he was believed bewitched by the devil. That wildness is the real connection between Paganini and this recording. Fanfoni pulls rhythm, intonation, and articulation to the edges, and the result sounds like a midnight marriage of late Baroque and whiskey-fueled bluegrass music. The effect is intensified because Fanfoni dispenses with the other instruments, playing the violin line a cappella.

It does seem to be Locatelli’s time to shine. Yet another recording of his music came out recently on Théotime Langlois de Swarte’s Vivaldi, Locatelli, Leclair Violin Concertos on Harmonia Mundi. The French violinist is joined by the ensemble Les Ombres, conducted by bass violist Margaux Blanchard. Besides Locatelli’s Concerto Op. 3, No. 8, the program includes two concertos each by Antonio Vivaldi and an earlier Baroque violin master, Jean-Marie Leclair (1697 – 1764).

There is delicacy in Langlois de Swarte’s touch. The butterfly analogy comes to mind again, yet he is careful not to be melodramatic. Les Ombres back up that approach with reserved beauty. Langlois de Swarte is also constantly aware of “implied polyphony,” the way Locatelli (just like Bach) has the violinist play one note at a time, yet switching from string to string so quickly that it gives the illusion of multiple notes at once.

In the past, Langlois de Swarte has collaborated on projects with dancers. For the Locatelli, he chose a different art to enhance the music. The video he made for the Capriccio from the Op. 3, No. 8 concerto features a painter, Silvère Jarrosson.

It’s tempting to think of music history as a series of shining stars – Bach, Beethoven, Paganini –  who appeared out of nowhere once in a while and changed the shape of music. But the attention being paid to Locatelli is a good reminder that there is a constant river of innovative artists influencing future generations, even if their names are (temporarily) forgotten.

 

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/public domain.

There was never anything ordinary about Barbara Lynn. A Black woman playing electric guitar professionally in 1960s Texas was extraordinary enough. And her technique was surprising: she plucked the melody with her thumb while strumming with her index finger, all with her left hand because she was a southpaw. Oh, and she wrote and performed her own songs, which women rarely got a chance to do back then. Barbara Lynn, now 80, was a maverick and a pioneer in many ways, and it’s important to acknowledge her.

She was born Barbara Lynn Ozen to Creole parents in Beaumont, TX in 1942. Music filled her life from childhood, whether singing in church or playing piano and guitar at home. She loved the old blues of Guitar Slim and the new rock and roll of a young guy named Elvis Presley. While a teenager, she started her own all-female band, Bobby Lynn and Her Idols, which played around the area and won some talent contests.

It didn’t take long for her to attract the keen ear of record producer Huey P. Meaux, known as the “Crazy Cajun.” He produced her first and only big hit, “You’ll Lose a Good Thing.” Lynn had written it at age 19, after breaking up with her boyfriend. For her, songwriting came as naturally as thinking about her own life. That single pushed Ray Charles out of the No. 1 spot in the R&B charts, an incredible accomplishment in 1962.

It then charted at No. 8 on the Billboard Hot 100, which is arguably even more amazing. Of the other 99 songs on that list, only one other was written by a woman without a male songwriting partner: “I Know (You Don’t Love Me Anymore)” by another Black R&B singer, Barbara George.

The success of “You’ll Lose a Good Thing” spawned an album of the same name on Jamie Records, produced by Meaux. The only two tracks she didn’t write were by Meaux and bluesman Jimmy Reed, respectively. One of her originals is “You Don’t Sleep at Night,” which nicely demonstrates her gritty, heartfelt vocal style and interesting use of rhythm in her lyrics. Although the in-house horns are not exactly Muscle Shoals quality, their syncopated chords do add a layer of excitement.

Her next release on Jamie Records was Sister of Soul, which fans of the Rolling Stones should be grateful for as the source for the song “Oh Baby (We’ve Got a Good Thing Goin’)” on their 1965 album The Rolling Stones, Now! Aretha Franklin recorded it, too.

Sister of Soul seems to be gone without a trace in its original form. I even tried the New York Public Library’s massive research archives of recorded sound. Happily, though, the award-winning CD Barbara Lynn – The Jamie Singles includes everything that was on it, plus the first album and other tracks that were only singles. Among those is “Dedicate the Blues to Me.” The sound quality is unfortunate, but the songs are great.

In 1967, Lynn’s career took a promising step forward when she signed with Atlantic Records. Her relationship with Atlantic started on a positive note with the 1968 release of Here Is Barbara Lynn.

Although Meaux came along to produce, there were striking differences between her new studio situation and the one at Jamie. For one thing, only half of this album is written by her, with the rest of the songs provided by a successful R&B writing team who also worked for Sun Records and elsewhere: Bob McRee and the brothers Cliff and Ed Thomas, whose sister Barbara Thomas often joined them, although not on this album.

McRee and the Thomas brothers also acted as arrangers. The increased studio budget is obvious on the slick production of the song “Multiplying Pain.”

Unfortunately, the label was not committed to promoting Lynn, so her first Atlantic record was also her last. Frustrated, and having recently married, she decided to focus instead on raising a family. Except for occasional live appearances, she was out of the music scene for nearly 20 years. But she wasn’t finished. After her husband passed away, she started recording again.

In 1988 Ichiban Records released You Don’t Have to Go. The track list consists mainly of old songs by Meaux and Jimmy Reed. Three of the songs are by Lynn, including “Sugar Coated Love,” in an unabashedly retro blues arrangement. The skilled harmonica player is uncredited, sadly.

Another of the small labels she worked with in this period was Bullseye Blues Records, which put out So Good in 1993. This one is fully orchestrated, with Keg Johnson, Jr. conducting an impressive lineup of Memphis-based session musicians.

Lynn is in fine voice and feisty attitude for “You’re the Man.” Its funky treatment is helped along by Ron Levy on organ.

Don Smith of Antone’s Records ended up producing Lynn’s 2000 album, Hot Night Tonight. He loved her guitar playing. In an interview following its release, Lynn gave Blues Access a candid glimpse into just how DIY her music career has been: “Don had me play on every song, and when I couldn’t figure out the chords because I don’t read music, one of the musicians would show me where to put my fingers.” There’s a reason she made up a unique way of plucking the guitar with her thumb: she never had any lessons. But the techniques she figured out on her own certainly worked for her.

Smith respected that. “Don let me be me in the studio,” she said in that same interview. You can hear her comfort level – and the resulting musical freedom – on her mostly instrumental composition, “Lynn’s Blues”:

Lynn hasn’t made a new album since 2004, when she released Movin’ on a Groove – Blues and Soul Situation on Dialtone Records. Most of the tracks are re-recordings of her old songs, with new arrangements. The co-producers are Dennis Wall, best known for his work in the jazz realm, and blues historian and Dialtone founder Eddie Stout.

Five of the songs on the album are new Lynn pieces, among them “I’m Not Doing Nothing Wrong.” While Lynn’s voice is breathier than in her younger years, she still has a powerful, soulful delivery. Venerable session saxophone player Kaz Kazanoff deserves a nod for his contribution.

While she doesn’t record or perform much anymore, Lynn has been honored with several lifetime achievement awards in the past decade for her inspirational pioneering spirit in music. Her most noteworthy accolade is the National Heritage Fellowship, which she received in 2018 from the National Endowment for the Arts. She is, indeed, a national treasure.

 

Header image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/Masahiro Sumori.

Staircase, New York City, overlooking Madison Square Garden.

John Flory is an industrial designer who works for an architectural fabrication firm specializing in high-end staircases. He is an artist, designer, machinist, woodworker, photographer, and virtual reality developer. His work can be found everywhere from space suits and medical testing equipment to offices in universities and in buildings that line the New York City skyline.