In Pursuit of Bo-Consciousness - Part 6

Greets. Just three records this time, and a lot of back-fill. One of the records is on an archived previous post. So, you'll have to hit the link back to it to hear the audio and read the other Bo connection to it that I did not get into this time. I plan to cut off my detailed retrospective on the late Mr. Bocage's early career at 1966 or so. Other than the one Seven B issue this time, I won't be getting into that label or what lies beyond in the near future. I'm just going to do one more post on a few records Bo produced and/or wrote in 1966-67 that weren't on Seven B. Then I'll be off on other circuitous digressions. But, there will be more, less involved Bo posts at some point in the future, no doubt. By the way, if you are still around, thanks for hanging with me!

BACK TO BEING A HIRED HAND

A Quick Stop At Nola

While his brief first fling running his own labels wound down without financial rewards, Eddie Bo continued working on projects for other labels, as the opportunities arose. In 1964, as discussed in Part 4, he had been involved with a Johnny Adams single for Gone and wrote the A-side of Tommy Ridgley's great Johen 45. Also that year, he connected with a new label in town, Nola Records, started by Ulis Gaines, Clinton Scott, Beryl 'Whurley Burley' Eugene, as well as producer/arranger Wardell Quezergue, who had worked on the Johen record. Just getting the operation off the ground and looking for good material to release, they enlisted Bo, who quickly cut two of his own tunes for them.



"You Are Going to Be Somebody's Fool, Too" (D. Burmah, D. Johnson, E. Bocage)
Eddie Bo. Nola 704, 1964
LISTEN



"A Heap See (But A Few Know)" (D. Burmah, D. Johnson, E. Bocage)
LISTEN

It was an interesting, split-personality type record for Bo, with the A-side seeming to go for rather mainstream soul-pop, while the flip was blues. Effectively arranged by Quezergue, neither had an overt New Orleans sound. But, at least with the mid-tempo "Somebody's Fool", closer attention to the drumming reveals some subtle New Orleans funkification was going on; and I suspect that Quezergue's go-to drummer of the period, Smokey Johnson, was the reason why the beats were so tastefully messed with. Note also the syncopated guitar chops layered in, while Bo played a double-time, repetitive figure on the piano under it all. It took me a couple of listens to realize what attracted me to this otherwise fairly straightforward and clichéd song format was the way Quezergue could so artfully imbue his productions with polyrhythmic counterpoint.

The lyrics of "You Are Going to Be Somebody's Fool, Too" (the title alone taking up two lines on the record label*) were nothing to write home about; but I do like Bo's go-for-it performance. This kind of number was not usually his strong suit, but he definitely sold it. Unfortunately, all the positives of the song were virtually undone by the ramrod straight backing singers, who sound like they were on loan from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Out of their element, to say the least, they definitely contributed to this one being a no-sale, continuing Bo's chick chorus curse (see Part 5).

Meanwhile, for the B-side, Bo and Quezergue thankfully managed to ditch the women and come up with a big, horn-driven, uptown blues arrangement for the oddly worded "A Heap See (But A Few Know)", which aspired for the sound of one of Bobby Bland's incendiary outings on Duke Records over in Houston; but, while the track is mostly well-played (the guitar noodling is a bit distracting), the song as a whole didn't quite get the cigar lit. It cracks me up to hear Bo repeatedly attempt to deliver that awkward mouthful and a half of a chorus, "A heap see, but a (very) few know". Instead of a blues lament, it sounds like something Tonto might have said to the Lone Ranger in that phony Native-American-speak that 1950s TV offered up. Also not helping to suspend my disbelief are Eddie's repeated yelps of "ow" as the song draws to a close, suggesting not psychic pain but maybe that Quezergue was whipping him with a microphone cable or something. Don't get me wrong. I LIKE it when Bo gets goofy and goes over the top. To me some of his best stuff has an element of the unexpected, the ridiculous, or at least the humorous, to it. I get the feeling that many of his sessions were highly entertaining places to be. Nevertheless, heap few bought record, kemosabe.

At more or less the same time that he cut his own record for Nola, Bo contributed to a project on a new female singer, Betty Taylor, which resulted in the label's next issue (#705), "I'm Going Home" b/w "You're A Winner", both co-penned by Bo. I did a post on "I'm Going Home" back in 2005, before I knew much of anything about the 45 or the singer, and later updated it as more details came to light. You can read it and still hear the audio at the link provided. I'll summarize by saying that Betty Taylor seems to have been an alias for Marie DuBarry, who recorded again a little later for Cosimo Matassa's White Cliffs label under her own name, and then, as Marie Boubarere, cut live versions of "I'm Going Home" b/w "I Know" (see my post from 2008), released by Nola as a single (#731) in 1967. Why Ms DuBarry required aliases I don't know. Also still unknown is how involved Bo was with that first record. Interestingly, Quezergue's name does not appear on #705, as it does on most of the Nola releases to indicate he was the arranger and/or producer. So, for all I know, besides writing the tunes, Bo might have done the arrangements or even had a hand in discovering the singer. Other than her name(s) and three item discography, very little is known about her. Leaving unanswered questions in his wake (as usual), Eddie moved on.

[A note on the songwriting credits: D. Burmah (which I have seen on other credits spelled "Burmak") does not appear in the BMI database. The third name on the BMI registration for both songs was Larry McKinley, a popular local DJ in New Orleans in those days, who had his hands in various record companies around town. So, Burmah or Burmak was an alias, allowing him to get cut-in on the potential royalties without being overt about it. As pointed out before around here, such arrangements were common practice all over the music business nationwide to encourage airplay by influential DJs.]
*The registered title in BMI is "You're Gonna Be Somebody's Fool, Too" - a little more compact!

Getting His Chops Up and Going to Work For Joe Banashak

I have discussed the story of Bo's contributions to the making of "Pass The Hatchet" before. They were significant, even though it was not his production, his arrangement, or his song. His added exclamatory vocalizing gave the offbeat instrumental a more dominant personality. In the story of Bo's recording career, though, it was an important happenstance that Joe Banashak asked him to make additions to the record, because that led directly to his going to work for the label owner. Because there are still some misperceptions floating around surrounding the Roger & the Gypsies 45, which was the second release (#7001) on Banashak's new Seven B venture, and since it kicked off the next phase of Bo's adventures in recording, I think's it's worth revisiting the circumstances.

I started a new label, Seven B, that stood for seven Banashaks, in 1966. Originally it was going to be a label on which I issued masters that I had bought. . . . I got a master from Earl Stanley's group, "Pass The Hatchet", that did real well locally. I was listening to this thing at Cosimo's Studio and Eddie Bo was around and offered to help me out with it. Eddie Bo did all the shouting and clapping [?] on the record; that was overdubbed. - Joe Banashak to Jeff Hannusch in I Hear You Knockin'

I thought it was a joke ‘cause we were just making it up in the studio. Li’l Joe came up with the beat, Nicky Bodine came up with the bass riff, Art Sir Van played the piano, Hector Nieves played the maracas, Roger played a little rhythm guitar. We just put it together and recorded it on the spot. - Earl Stanley to Michael Hurtt in the Offbeat feature "Hidden Charms".

As Banashak has stated, and Stanley (Oropeza) verified in that Offbeat interview, Earl and his band, the Stereos, arranged and cut "Pass the Hatchet", based around a guitar riff and title supplied by Roger Leon. It took about half and hour to bring it into being at their little production studio, Thunder Recording. Stanley then invented a band name to slap on it, Roger & the Gypsies, and took the tape of the hypnotic, strip-club-rock instrumental to Banashak, who agreed to lease it. This must have been at some point in 1965. Thinking the tune needed something extra to make it stand out, Banashak then enlisted Bo's help; and his off-the-wall, verbally riffing on the title, overdub session ensued. The record came out towards 1966 and did great in and around New Orleans, getting up to #1, but did not break out nationally. Of course, it has since become not only a cult classic, but a latter day commercial bonanza for Stanley, who said that he spent less time putting the song together and recording it than anything he ever worked on. An, of course, at the time, they had no idea that Bo would be a participant.

Seemingly very soon after assisting with "Pass The Hatchet", Bo began working pretty much full time on projects for Banashak's stable of labels. One of the reasons Eddie got hired in 1965 was that Banashak had just lost the services of his main studio mojo-man, Allen Toussaint, who had been working for him as producer, arranger, writer, and master of artist development since 1959. Toussaint had a magic touch in the studio and either created or helped birth many hits on numerous artists for Banashak's Minit and Instant labels up until 1963, when he went into the service for two years. Still under contract with Bananshak, Toussaint left a lot of material to be released in his absence, and even started a group at the base in Houston, the Stokes, who recorded mainly instrumentals for the Alon imprint; but he no longer had a day to day involvement in recording and writing. Also during that period, Banashak had a serious financial setback when his record distributorship business went under; and that nearly shut down his music production and label operations, too. Though Banashak recovered, the dynamic had markedly changed by the time Toussaint returned; and most of the strong vocalists he had worked with previously were long gone. Sensing the stagnation, Toussaint jumped ship in 1965, going into partnership on a new production company with Marshall Sehorn, who was developing Lee Dorsey as a national artist and needed Toussaint's talents. The move forced Banashak to seek new blood in the business; and Bo was available to become not only part of the production team, but a recording artist, as well. If Bo's first job for Joe Banashak was pimping "Pass The Hatchet", he soon cooked up another project directly related to it, creating a spin-off single, as it were, featuring - in disguise - the legendary, problematic Chris Kenner on lead vocal.

Joe Banashak had first signed Kenner, a great songwriter and limited singer with a serious drinking problem, to the new Instant label in 1961. Working under Toussaint's direction, Kenner quickly had hits with two of his own songs, "I Like It Like That" and "Something You Got", before cooling off commercially. In 1962, after recording another original, "Land of 1,000 Dances", which went nowhere, Kenner and Banashak parted ways. Prone to blowing any money he got, the always cash-strapped Kenner then approached hit-master Fats Domino about recording "Land", which the rotund one agreed to do if the songwriter signed over 50% of the songwriter royalties. In return, Kenner got a small cash advance. To get more, Kenner also offered up several other of his songs to Domino in a similar deal. Fats soon cut "Land" and "Something You Got" for ABC to little avail. But, his name on some of Kenner's songs seemed to spark new interest in them. In 1963, Kenner's Instant version of "Land" began getting airplay in several parts of the country; and Atlantic Records came to Banashak and made a deal to distribute it. The song rose into the lower Hot 100 before stalling out; but it would not be long until Chris' tunes were getting covered by other artists, too. The cash from Atlantic helped to save Banashak's foundering record labels; and Kenner came back into the fold in early in 1965, working with Toussiant again on some sides that Banashak leased to Uptown, a California label; but they did not get noticed.

By that time, though, Toussaint was on the way out; and Bo was on board to try something else with Kenner.

If A Record Gets Released Without Promotion, Does Anybody Hear It?
(An old music business koan)



"Timber - Part I" (Johnson-Bocage-Menelik)
'Candy' Phillips, Atlantic 2290, 1965 **
LISTEN

"Timber - Part II"
LISTEN

Well, spreadin' 'round the world like a wild disease,
everywhere you look, they're choppin' down trees,
hollerin', TImber! Chop it up, baby.

Fans of "Pass The Hatchet" or even casual listeners should immediately recognize the lyrical similarities in what Kenner is singing here and what Eddie Bo spouted over the Roger & the Gypsies track about chopping and trees falling, not to mention the two times he actually yelled "timber". Though there was little musical similarity between the songs, it is obvious that Bo lyrically crafted a take-off on "Hatchet", creating a song about a new dance where everybody was swinging (hopefully) imaginary axes at equally non-existent trees (Bo may have been a carpenter; but BOTH songs are about lumberjacking!). In the music business, I guess, the question is not why, but why not. My take is that Bo didn't get any cut of the writers' credit for what he came up with on "Pass The Hatchet"; so, he decided to recycle his ideas into a song he might be able to cash in on.

I've wondered about the use of Chris Kenner, when Eddie could have done a better job vocally himself; and what was up with calling Chris "'Candy' Phillips" (though that last name has some obvious appeal)? Further, how did Atlantic wind up releasing it?
It did not appear first on any of Banashak's labels.

The answer to a couple of these burning inquiries probably has a lot to do with the fact that Banashak had additional dealings with Atlantic in 1965. They had just come back to him to lease a bunch of Kenner's earlier Instant sides in order to fill out their Land Of 1,000 Dances LP (SD-8117) which would be released to cash in on the new popularity of the tune incited by Cannibal and the Headhunters' cover version having made the song a hot, if decidedly altered, property. Atlantic would get another boost in '66 (as would Mr. Domino), when Wilson Pickett had a smash hit with it, as well. With Atlantic in a cooperative mood, Banashak likely coaxed a side deal with them to issue "Timber", as well as re-issuing an Alon single (#9024) by Benny Spellman that Toussaint had written and produced, "The Word Game" (it used a recycled Stokes track) b/w "I Feel Good", which followed "Timber" as Atlantic 2291. As to why Chris Kenner sang, I suspect Banashak used the session as a test to see if Bo could work with Chris, who was pretty much perpetually inebriated and not the most focused or reliable of performers. The alias? I'm stumped (so sorry). Maybe Atlantic wasn't interested in a new Kenner release at that time, with the LP of old material coming out. Other ideas, or even facts, are welcomed.

Whatever those reason may have been, "Timber", which would have come out** probably around the same time as "Hatchet" or just behind it, seems to have been set up to fail by Atlantic along with the Spellman single - just allowed to fall silently in the forest without any promotional support - probably meant to be tax write-offs for an operation that was growing more corporate by the day and had bigger trees to chop.

While it musically lacked the loopy, low-fi, gonzo spirit of "Hatchet", "Timber"' had an appealing simplicity and groove. Bo used that New Orleans popeye-style saunter that had been around since early in the decade, but punched it up by adding the thrust of his background grunts on the 2 of each bar (on the latter part of "Hatchet" he had put them on the 1). I wouldn't go as far as to call either song proto-funk, as some have - but there were tendencies in that direction. Meanwhile, the lyrics of "Timber" start out seeming to be going eco-a-go-go, but, soon enough, the pro-chopping message is clear cut (forgive me). Still, the despite the conceptual absurdity of doing a dance about deforesting the planet, "Timber" is actually a fun record and easily induces movement (an effective work-out number that no Zen-master could resist). On Part II, the non-vocal side, Bo delivered a fine organ solo mixed in with some cool sax work that made things even better. Still, no one danced, because no one heard; but perhaps a wave of axe wielding mayhem was averted.

Over the next year, Bo worked with Kenner again, as well as others, for Instant, and did some effective and successful producing and writing for Skip Easterling, too. Next time, we'll take a look at and listen to some of that.

**[Note: In Larry Grogan's 2005 Eddie Bo Archives at his old pre-blog webzine, Funky 16 Corners, he dated "Timber" as 1967, not saying how that date was derived. For a good while, I accepted it without questioning. When I finally scored my copy of the single and checked the Atlantic matrix numbers (8936/8937), they put the actual recording date around mid-1965, where The R&B Indies Atlantic discography also places it. For context, Wilson Pickett recorded "In the Midnight Hour" in May, 1965; and the issue number of that 1965 single was #2289 (matrix numbers 8930/8931), placing it just prior to "Timber". That changed my whole view of the sequence of events. Finally, in further geekitude, I'll point out that despite what the writers' credits say on "Timber", BMI shows the "third writer" (the first two are Eddie Bo, of course) as Gus Lewis, a local DJ, rather than Menelik, an African king and predecessor to Hailie Selassie!!!!!! As with Larry McKinley on Bo's Nola 45 credits, Lewis' inclusion as a recipient of possible royalties was surely an inducement for radio play; and use of Menelik's name was surely meant to be Bo's humorous way to hide it.]

In Pursuit of Bo Consciousness - Part 5

***Updated 10/5/2009***

STRIKING OUT ON HIS OWN

The independent record business in New Orleans was always volatile and precarious. Starting with the first wave in the mid-1950s, numerous local labels formed and folded, with most lasting just a few years, if that. The opportunity to score a big hit was always there to tempt entrepreneurs; but the odds against it were steep - like a shot at winning the lottery or picking a winning horse out at the Fairgrounds racetrack - unless, of course, Allen Toussaint was writing and producing the records; and even he struck-out often. Getting into the business didn't require a lot of money, at least at the outset; but, without decent sales, releasing more records to stay in the game upped the ante considerably. Even getting that big hit did not guarantee success or longevity, as the owners of A.F.O.Records or Parlo found out the hard way. Like many small businesses, most label start-ups were chronically under-funded, financed out of the hip pockets of owners, many of whom had little or no experience in the capricious, cutthroat world of the music business; and the costs of their on-the-job training sooner or later outstripped their optimism and bank accounts. The cycle of leaps of faith followed by severe reality checks kept thinning the herd. Just in the early to mid-1960s, labels such as Eight Ball, Etah, JC, Pitassy, Rex, Sabre, Spinnett, Tail-Gate, Warm, Watch, White Cliffs, Whurley Burley, Winner, and numerous others fell by the wayside, ultimately lacking the resources to compete, get noticed, and sell their products.

Despite evidence to the contrary all around him, Eddie Bo decided that he too had a shot as an independent record man. He had surely been frustrated working on records for various small labels run by others with not much more in compensation than promises, only to see his music and efforts go down the drain with the companies. Possessing multi-faceted talents - writing, arranging, producing and performing - Bo must have been confident that he could make records better and more successfully than the mere businessmen and schemers for whom he had worked up to that point in his career. He also wisely set up a music publishing company, Eboville, to administer his song catalog and keep more of the potential royalties for himself, and would use it for the rest of his life in conjunction with his own projects. So, with his cocky conviction and surely only a modest investment, Bo began releasing records on several micro-labels he set up, starting in 1964, while continuing to work on releases for other companies, too. By playing both angles he calculated his gamble, hoping to increase the chances that one of his songs would catch on and break out.

Bo's One Arrow

I am starting off with Eddie's release on Arrow Records in 1964, "Fare Thee Well" b/w" "Let's Let It Roll", because it could well have been his first roll of the dice as an all-around record man. The information shown on the label indicates that it was Bo's operation, since it displayed the 1821 Orleans Avenue address that would appear on many of his own labels. Note, though, that his music publishing credit reads "Ebo Music", rather than Eboville. Also, the label shows "A DOE Production", which is a mysterious moniker to me (Department of Eddie?). As we shall see, his next releases on other labels he set up had "Tru-Arts Production" on them. Since it seems that Eddie had not yet fully worked out all of the business details, I would venture that this record may have been his initial leap, more or less.

I say "more or less", because I did notice something else interesting when I looked at what was stamped in the "dead wax", the grooveless area of the record next to the label where the needle runs out after play. You usually always see a matrix number etched there, and sometimes a symbol for a pressing plant. On the DJ copy I have, after the matrix numbers (133-1064/1065), is the name "Cosimo". Of course, that would be Cosimo Matassa , who not only had the main recording studio in town at the time, but also was pressing and distributing records for many small labels through his Dover Records company. It is not surprising that Bo would be using Cosimo's services - but this is the first time I've seen Cosimo's name in the dead wax of a 45. Maybe it's because this was a limited run promo copy. I don't have a stock copy to compare it with. If you do, let me know. But, it suggests that Cosimo somehow might have assisted Eddie with this release.

At any rate, nothing much happened with what was to be the only known Arrow single, because the sides were soon picked up by Chess for national release. Eddie's connections with Paul Gayten, the local Chess representative and producer in New Orleans, had much to do with that, I'm sure. So, the Arrow label quickly sank into the undocumented murk. You can hear "Let's Let It Roll" on Red Kelly's The "B" Side. Therefore, I'm going with the other, far quirkier side, which is, if nothing else, a conversation piece.



"Fare Thee Well" (D. Johnson - E. Bocage)
Eddie Bo, Arrow 711, 1964
LISTEN

Bo's sense of humor crops up a lot on this record. Of course, there is the name he chose for label itself. And there's the number he assigned to this single, 711, obviously hoping for some dice-thrower's (or bow-puller's) luck! Then there is the song itself. This was supposed to be the A-side? It's hard to figure that it was really the song he wanted to launch the next phase of his career. A little novelty blues goof, modeled after a Jimmy Reed tune and/or Tommy Tucker's Checker hit of that year, "Hi-Heel Sneakers", Bo's song was not only out of character for him [and he had a lot of character(s)], it seems meant to be no more than a throwaway B-side. Why else would the solo instrument of choice on it be a kazoo, for God's sake? Maybe a harmonica player didn't show up for the session. I've included "Fare thee Well" only to remark on how off-the-wall Eddie could be.

Now, to refresh your musical palate and re-assess this 45, go back and listen to "Let's Let It Roll". That's how I hear Eddie kicking things off. It was obviously also derivative, borrowing from the feel of songs Curtis Mayfield and the Impressions were doing up in Chicago at the time ("It's Alright"), but using a big Ray Charles type of arrangement and delivery that kicks some butt - an interesting, enjoyable mix - and without a single kazoo toot. Of course, Bo was trying to make records that would sell; and, still finding his own way, he was not averse to the long-used music business tactic of stealing the ideas of others to produce sound-alike tunes. It is still being done today. But, the record buying public didn't rise to the bait, if they even heard it. I doubt that Chess promoted the record too much or "encouraged" DJs to play it, since they were concentrating on their in-house artists getting hits, as Red rightly points out in his piece. I guess they released it just on the off-chance that it might be defy the long odds - another leap of faith that couldn't overcome gravity.

Short Term Fun

Obviously, Eddie must have enjoyed the record making process. Why else would he keep coming back for more, considering the rather dismal success rate, other than, maybe, a kind of gambling addiction? Perhaps revealingly, the next label Bo established was named Fun; and there was a clown figure behind the U on the logo, giving it the appearance of a children's record. I have long been aware of two known releases on the label, #303, "Cheetah" b/w "Sweetness", featuring 'Lil' Snook (a/k/a Fird 'Snooks' Eaglin), and #305, "Baby, Baby, Baby" b/w "How Long (Can I Hold Back My Tears)" by Joyce Harris. Martin at soulgeneration's Eddie Bo Discography discusses these, of course, but just has label shots of Harris' single. As far as I can tell, Jeff Hannusch has the only known shot of "Cheetah" in The Soul of New Orleans.

A while back I was told by a dealer/collector that he had seen a Fun single by the Queenetts up for auction on eBay. I wondered if it could be the mysterious #304, but could not find the archived listing and did not follow up - busy chasing some other untamed waterfowl of a record, I'm sure. Then, after I posted this installment yesterday, my friendly cohort, Peter, from across the great waters, told me he had also seen that auction and sent me scans of the one label shot that he had saved, as well as one of the flip side of the Snooks single, "Sweetness", from another auction. Sweet indeed. Thanks from one geek to another.

So, now I can confirm the existence of the second of three Fun issues, #304, "So Lucky In Love" b/w "How Long (Can I Hold My Tears)", which I'll discuss a bit more in a few minutes

Looking at those Fun labels, one sees Bo's publishing company designated as Eboville; and Tru-Arts Production Co. appears, as it would on most of his remaining in-house releases of the era. Also, 1821 Orleans Avenue again shows up, with the addition of Suite 207-10; but the rest of the address - city and state - is left off, as if Eddie were expecting no more than local action from these 45s.

The 'Lil' Snook single is about as rare as a rational Republican these days. It apparently had an even more limited run than #304. Martin, a deep collector, hasn't got it, either; nor has he, or anyone else I know, heard it. But, I do have a more recent version of one of the songs, done by Snooks himself, to give us a clue. It ought to be a fairly accurate rendition.

"Cheetah" (F. Eaglin)
Snooks Eaglin, from Out of Nowhere, Black Top, 1989
LISTEN

In the first few years of the Sixties, Snooks recorded for Imperial Records with Dave Bartholomew producing, doing mainly cover tunes. It seems Bartholomew gave him a pretty short leash in the studio, because not much of his gonzo performance spirit came through on those recordings. Although I have never heard the original version of "Cheetah", I'd wager that, with Eddie Bo running the show, Snooks was given plenty of latitude to go for it. As you can hear in his rendition 25 years later, this funny little novelty song with just plain silly lyrics is nicely structured and incorporates Snooks' uniquely funky brand of rhythmic playing throughout. His Fun 45, which I hope to hear someday, apparently, was the last one Snooks ever recorded; and, sad to say, he never worked with Bo in the studio again, although they did perform together occasionally in later years*.

While I am pretty sure that Snooks wrote both "Cheetah" and "Sweetness", on the label of "Cheetah", just one name, "Gustave", appears under the title. I haven't a clue what that was about. Now having seen the "Sweetness" label shot, I can attest that it is credited to "Ferd Eaglin" (close enough). Referring to the BMI database, I cannot see that either Snooks or Bo claimed writing credit for these songs. Snooks re-did the latter tune as "Oh, Sweetness" on his Black Top debut, Baby You Can Get Your Gun. Far from a prolific songwriter, he was given credit for both songs on those albums.

Now, back to the Queenetts. A quick bit of surfing; and I easily found a cached page of the listing that still has audio for their Fun single. First off, this group of female vocalists (maybe just a duo), is likely the same one who recorded several sides in the late 1950s or early 1960s as the Queenettes, although I can't find what label they were on (those earlier songs appear on a Smithsonian/Folkways R&B compilation). More than that I do not know. Of the songs on #304 themselves, "So Lucky In Love", written by Bo, was a moderately paced dancer with a touch of Latin rhythm, pretty straightforward commercial fare, with nothing to even hint that it came out of either Bo or New Orleans. Ditto the other side, "How Long", on the slower side of mid-tempo with even straighter music (to the point of ho-hum), a solo female vocal and male backing vocals (?). Interesting. Certainly quite rare. But I wouldn't want to pay the $500.00 US that it went for just for the tunes.

A bit less rare, the Joyce Harris single on Fun, for which Bo wrote both sides, can be occasionally found for sale or at auction, as Martin points out; and it's less pricey. I knew of "Baby, Baby, Baby" from the Night Train/Tuff City compilation, New Orleans Soul A Go-Go, without even realizing Eddie had anything to do with it (no notes or credits on those gray-market CDs ). It was a well-sung, driving, soul-pop dancer with unexceptional lyrics - certainly not Eddie's best work, but not too shabby. Harris, a New Orleans blue-eyed soul/pop artist, also recorded singles for Infinity, Serock, Domino, and a few more back in that era, but none of those seem to have been tied to Bo.

Maybe because there were several other outside labels named Fun in the mid-1960s, Bo went no farther with his own and did not put out anything on it himself. So,when he turned his attention back to releasing some records as the featured artist, Eddie did it on yet another new imprint.

* Eddie and Snooks together on stage.

The Blue Jay Way

Bo deployed his Blue Jay label later in 1964; and, during it's brief existence, he did some of his best work of the decade, writing, performing and arranging several exceptional songs that were distinctive rather than derivative. Although the label was ultimately not a commercial success, his best Blue Jay sides displayed creativity and originality that would become the hallmarks of his highly personalized brand of funk and soul later in the decade.

Bo released five known singles on Blue Jay - four of his own and one by Tommy Ridgley. Since the first of those is numbered 154, there has been speculation about possible earlier releases on the label; but I know of none that have surfaced to date. Mr. Bocage was always full of surprises - but as avidly as his singles have been searched for and collected over the past several decades or so, I doubt that anything remains undiscovered, though I long to be proven wrong. But, back to what we know. Let's hear what was arguably Eddie's best Blue Jay release.



"Gotta Have More" (D. Johnson-E. Bocage-T. Terry)
Eddie Bo with the Barons, Blue jay 154, 1964
LISTEN

I posted this tune previously in a 2007 feature on the Barons (a/k/a the Barons, Ltd, and the Barrons), an all male New Orleans vocal group who had a number of releases on small, mostly local labels from the mid-1960s on into the 1970s. You can read about them and my commentary on this song in the linked archives. No need to rehash it now. I'll stand by what I wrote, especially the part about "Gotta Have More" being among Eddie's best work. If you don't get juiced listening to this one - you dead.

On the next Blue Jay release (#155), Bo regressed somewhat and went more mainstream with "Fight It" b/w "River of Tears", two self-composed, moody, mid-tempo dance numbers that you could easily do the jerk to. I finally got to hear them the other day, when I ran across some archived Mr.Finewine shows (always revelatory) at WFMU . On both tunes, Bo pitched his voice down from his usual high tenor delivery. I've only heard him do that once before that I recall. These performances were pleasant enough, with very polished arrangements, but just don't sound much like Eddie vocally or musically. Ultimately, I feel that that he didn't quite have the right vocal chops to pull them off convincingly. Had the songs been covered by Ben E. King or Gene McDaniels, say, hits could have happened.

Eddie then followed with a real change-up, "Fee-Fie-Jum-Bo-Li" on Blue Jay 156. I don't currently have the audio of this Bo composition in my archives, either, but have heard it enough to sum it up as a mid-tempo, novelty dance tune with that string of nursery rhyme nonsense syllables as the chorus. It's about Humpty Dumpty doing all the popular dances of the day, with Eddie occasionally interjecting, "work it out, Humpty ". Seeming to be an attempt to capture the pre-school demographic, this one should definitely have come out on Fun. In terms of pace and structure, its one-chord repetitive pattern reminds me in a way of home-boy Chris Kenner's "Land of A Thousand Dances" from a few years earlier. Musically, "Fee-Fie-Jum -Bo-Li" had an unusual, down and dirty grind to its groove, working off a bare-bones arrangement and instrumentation of just drums, bass, plus two guitars - rhythm and a sometimes frenetic, string-strangling lead. Having not heard the flip, I'll defer to Martin at the EBD, who says "Danger", also written by Bo, was a bluesy ballad.

Bookending Eddie's four releases on Blue Jay was another exceptional side.

"Our Love (Will Never Falter)" (D. Johnson - E. Bocage)
Eddie Bo, Blue Jay 157, 1965
LISTEN

When bees won't give no honey, and countries may run out of money. You know, these things may come to pass; but I declare our love will never, never falter.

Timely lyrics to ponder here, over three decades later, as we enter the next century of tipping points and rapid depletion, when those things HAVE come to pass. I couldn't agree more with Martin that this is another one of the high points of Eddie's recorded output. Like "Gotta Have More", it was an outstanding New Orleans soul record that few people got to enjoy at the time. That it was also prophetic just makes it that much hipper. Too bad, it couldn't have been profitable, too.

Eddie again went with all his best instincts on this track, from the compelling songcraft to the effective pulse of the arrangement. While "Gotta Have More", in my opinion, edges it out as better written, "Our Love" is still strong: expressive, poetic, soulful, and grooving. Dig that rhythmic push-pull action and some definitely broken up kick drum beats, just barely discernible in the mix. The funk was definitely starting to percolate up to the surface in Eboville. Also, you might note that the opening guitar lick and six-string riffing (I'd guess it's 'Deacon John' Moore) throughout this track is very similar to the playing on Robert Parker's "Barefootin'" (featuring both George Davis and Moore), recorded for Nola in 1965, but not released until early 1966. Maybe Bo's arrangement on "Our Love" was a precursor to what Wardell Quezergue did with "Barefootin'", or it could have been the other way around. A lot of the same musicians were playing the sessions, cutting at the same studio - plus Bo even worked for Nola around this time, too (more on that to come). There was a lot of creative cross-pollination going on in those days; but any way you slice it, there's no denying that Bo was coming on strong and finding his groove.

For what would be the final Blue Jay single, "Call On My Baby" b/w "Pretty Little Mama", Eddie gave the spotlight to Tommy Ridgley.



"Pretty Little Mama" (E. Bocage & D. Johnson)
Tommy Ridgely [sic], Blue Jay 158
LISTEN

Both Bo-penned sides of this 45 feature vocal duos with the uncredited Johnny Adams. Since Ridgley and Adams were two of the best vocalists in New Orleans, the pairing turned out well. "Call On My Baby" was a testifying soul ballad with influences somewhere between Sam Cooke's "Bring It On Home To Me" and Solomon Burke's "If You Need Me" - certainly Eddie in his derivative mode again - but he was at least inspired by some of the best. The song just didn't quite live up to those earlier hits, though, and was marred by another distracting, out-of-place female backing vocal.

On the flip, "Pretty Little Mama", the wailing woman was thankfully absent, likely called out for ambulance duty. Ridgley delivered the main vocal with casual ease, while Adams offered some playful echoing of Tommy's lines and a few soulful squeals in the background. For reasons I can't figure, Martin in the EBD calls this tune a "wild rocker" and a "ballsy rhythm 'n blues jumper"; but to my admittedly aged ears, it had a laid-back swing groove on the verses and bridge, though the horns really punched on the turnarounds. I also hear some references to James Brown's "Out Of Sight" in the horn arrangement and "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag" in the lyrics. Ending a line with "boomerang" is the giveaway. Remember, those Brown tunes were innovative and hot in 1964 and 1965; so Bo was not only aware of them, but surely looking for some subliminal sales by association action. Yet, this tune incorporates none of Brown's funk, nor would I characterize it as a rocker, wild or otherwise. I do agree with Martin that it is a throwback to the 1950s, or even before. It's definitely out of date when compared to James Brown's tight, polyrhythmic orchestration of his band into an irresistible groove machine. So, while it was nice work with some great horn charts, "Pretty Little Mama" to me showed Eddie looking back and sideways, but not forward.

Bo and Ridgley would team up later on another obscure single, "Spreading Love" b/w "Live", issued on the seemingly one-off label, Ridge-Way, which I featured back in 2005 (I've recently updated the post a bit). Although the record had a mid-1960s sound, its release date remains unclear; but I would guess it came out maybe sometime just after Bo separated from Joe Banashak's employ around 1967, though it could have been later. It was not a commercial winner, and, as far as I know, was the last record the two collaborated on.

By 1965, Bo had suspended operations on his own labels, no doubt due to the reality check portion of the small label business cycle - in essence, there were no checks coming in, with many of the reasons being beyond his control. Arrow, Fun and Blue Jay were seen no more, having barely been apparent when active; and Eddie went back to being a writer/producer/artist for labels owned by others, notably Joe Banashak's Alon, Instant, and Seven B, followed by Al Scramuzza's briefly re-constituted Scram and related labels. It would be Bo's last fling working for others, though, before going it alone with his own production company and labels again, starting in the late 1960s. But, as we have seen so far, some of his early independent releases were among the best of his career and deserved far better than the indifference they were greeted with at the time. Business as usual was fast fading for R&B/soul artists and labels in New Orleans, as radio play and record sales had become dominated by the British Invasion and Motown. Moreover, the entire mode of operation locally was about to implode with the bankruptcy of Cosimo's Dover operation, taking down his studio and many small local labels with it.

Life and business are all about timing - and Bo's initial start-ups really had nowhere to go but down, not that he could have foreseen it. But, importantly, his business failure didn't stop him - it just made him step back, regroup and wait for another opening. If there had been a persistence prize, Eddie would have been the perennial winner.

[Note: thanks again to Martin Lawrie at soulgeneration for use of the scan of "Our Love". I don't have the single. . . yet. The audio comes from the Charly LP, "Vippin' & Voppin'.]

In Pursuit of Bo-Consciousness - Part 4

MOVING ON AFTER RIC & RON
[Updated 8/25/2009]
[Updated (with added audio) 8/26/2009]

The Last At Last

Part 3 ended more or less with Eddie Bo leaving the Ric and Ron labels behind in 1962, due to dissatisfaction with his compensation and owner Joe Ruffino's reluctance to seek national distribution for the labels' product. Of course, Ruffino's subsequent death closed the business and underscored the wisdom of Eddie's decision. Soon thereafter, Bo cut a couple of records for At Last, a recently started subsidiary of A.F.O. (All For One) Records, headed by Harold Battiste, who co-owned the labels with a group of like-minded African-American session musicians seeking more creative control and financial rewards from the music business (an eternal quest). Battiste had done some arranging and producing for Ric and Ron, and the other owners had played on many of the sessions.

By the time Bo came aboard as an artist, things were getting shaky for Battiste and his partners, as their one big hit-maker on A.F.O., Barbara George ("I Know"), had been stolen away by 'Juggy' Murray, owner of Sue Records. Sue was supposed to be distributing A.F.O.'s releases; but Murray ditched the deal without warning once he had George's contract, leaving A.F.O. with not much more than a local market for their records. Since the main label's releases were not getting traction, the group came up with At Last to try to put a fresh face on some of their offerings. Ultimately, there were only five known singles issued on At Last (#1004 has never been accounted for); and Bo had two of them. None caused much of a stir due to lack of exposure; and, before long, both labels ran out of steam.

Eddie's two singles for At Last in 1962 were its final releases and had no chance of success given the unraveling business situation. When you consider how good the A-sides were, the missed opportunity to be appreciated seems tragic. Remastered versions of both those tracks are on the Ace (UK) three CD series, Gumbo Stew, an excellent compilation of the highly significant but ultimately unsuccessful A. F. O. enterprise. "Te Na Na Na Nay", from the penultimate #1005, was a good mover with an upbeat shuffle groove further enhanced by punchy horns and rousing female backing vocals; but, one of Eddie's best efforts as a writer, arranger, and performer appeared on the absolutely last At Last.

"I Found A Little Girl" (Edwin Bocage)
Eddie Bo, At Last 1006, 1962
LISTEN

Another one of the essentials, in any format, for Eddie Bo fans and collectors, "I Found A Little Girl" is a knocked-out, transcendent rave-up. As noted in previous parts of this series, Eddie's early writing and performing became heavily influenced by soul progenitor Ray Charles; and, until he developed more of a style of his own later in the 1960s, the influence was obvious on many Bo recordings. What set "I Found A Little Girl" apart from a typical, tightly played, in-the-pocket Charles-style gospel/R&B hybrid was how Eddie tricked it out to make it his own. In particular, the exceptional, broken-up drumming established the stutter-stepping second line feel of the New Orleans streets. The piano playing, surely his own, was also highly percussive, syncopated and a bit on the dissonant side, with wild flourishes and runs that played against the pumping horns. Add to all of that his joyous vocalizing which grew more raucous as the song went along, flipping at times into falsetto mode, and you have a risk-taking, high-energy performance that richly paid off. It still sounds as fresh, hip and in-your-face today as, I am sure, it did back then.

In true celebratory New Orleans style, Eddie took At Last out on a high note, backed by any of a number of outstanding players from the A.F.O. fold, including John Boudreaux or James Black on drums, 'Chuck' Badie on bass, Roy Montrell or Mac Rebennack on guitar (my vote is for Mac here), 'Red' Tyler on baritone sax, 'Nat' Perilliat on tenor sax, and Melvin Lastie on trumpet/cornet . The record became an immediate obscurity and is still not widely appreciated, although Martin Lawrie sings its praises on his fabulous Eddie Bo Discography.

Ripping And Running

Meanwhile, also in 1962, Bo hooked up with another small, local outfit, Rip Records, owned by Ripolle 'Rip' Roberts, concert promoter, gambler, and all-around hustler - a type the music business has never had a shortage of. Probably the most well-known record Roberts was involved with (in some fashion) was Reggie Hall's novelty number, "The Joke", which came out on Chess (#1816) in 1962 and did fairly well. It has been on several compilations. Roberts' connection with Chess may have been what attracted Bo to sign on to his new label.

Eddie did a mere three singles under his own name for Rip, not five (or more) as shown by The R&B Indies, the Eddie Bo Discography at soulgeneration, and Bo's own website (!). Although the discographies show Bo as the artist for Rip 154, "When You Cry Your Heart Out" b/w "Bless Us All", the single seems to have no apparent connections to him at all - he did not even write the tunes. I found this out from my friend, Peter, over in the European Union, who sent me scans of the single showing it was actually by Dick Richards (with Wardell Quezergue's name in smaller letters under his - ???). A quick listen to an mp3 Peter also provided confirmed that it was not Bo singing under and alias, either. Where the confusion arises is that Bo's first single for Rip, "Let's Limbo" b/w "Mo-Jo", was also numbered 154 by Roberts. Big oops.

"Let's Limbo" was . .well. . .beneath Eddie's superior talents - an ineffective, gimmicky novelty tune that had him singing with a cheesy faux Caribbean accent over a generic calypso groove that thankfully not many people heard. "Mojo" was much more tolerable, though still not great work. Thankfully, his next 45, "You're The Only One" b/w "You're With Me" (#156) was far better and quickly got noticed. "You're With Me" was the cut that began getting airplay and sales around town; and Chess soon optioned it for national release (#1833, hear/see it at The B-Side), giving Eddie another flirtation with the big time that didn't result in a hit, but must have been encouraging, at least.

After Chess picked up that single, the confused and/or numerically challenged Mr. Roberts re-assigned #156 to Reggie Hall's next 45, "Always Pickin' On Me" b/w "Work". Guess he didn't consider that 47 years later, some geek would be paying attention. I haven't established that Bo had anything to do with the production on Hall's 156, having never laid eyes on a copy; but do I know that Reggie wrote both sides. Be that as it may, I am sure that Roberts let loose one more release by Bo, "Woman" b/w "Temptation", which appeared on Rip 159 in 1963. Eddie was definitely swinging for the mainstream bleachers on "Woman", which he structured and arranged as a pop tune. In an unusual touch, he also sang about an octave below his normal high tenor, I guess to give the tune more substance - something I don't recall him doing anywhere else. On the flipside, he reverted to his regular range on an effective soulful ballad with more complex changes. But, once again, the single didn't generate any action.

Because Rip 45s are so hard to get a look at, I assume, all three previously mentioned discographies also give Bo artist credit for the next Rip single, #160, "Tee-Na-Na" b/w "Mama Said". Again, Peter provided me with a label scan that shows it was instead a Reggie Hall record that Bo arranged, conducted, and wrote (under the his wife's name). Peter tells me "Tee-Na-Na" is an inferior version of Eddie's earlier At Last side, "Tee Na Na Na Na Nay". So, let's listen to the other side.



"Mama Said" (Delores Johnson)
Reggie Hall, Rip 160, 1963
LISTEN

Sounds like Reggie Hall to me. If you can listen through and mentally filter out the surface noise, you'll find an unexceptional but not bad little novelty tune with the nearly ubiquitous, early Sixties, mildly syncopated popeye shuffle groove. It was simple, rather unadventurous fare with the lyrics referencing barnyard animals having a bad day. Never much of a vocalist, Hall (a good songwriter and pianist) delivered them in a rather lackluster way. What perked up the track more than anything were the three (!) sax solos. Obviously, Eddie did not pull out his prime material on this project. I'm sure it was just a session paycheck for him.

Probably the most enjoyable tune Eddie recorded during this period was not released at the time. I featured it back in 2005, right after Katrina rolled in, before we all realized how bad off New Orleans was. The date I have for the session is supposedly the same day Bo cut his Rip 156 sides. As I said in the original post, that date, which may or may not be accurate, comes from the notes to the essential Charly LP, Vippin' and Voppin', which compiled this and several of Eddie's Rip sides with material he cut for Seven B a few years later.

"I Just Keep Rolling" (E. Bocage)
Eddie Bo, recorded June 9, 1962
LISTEN

Essentially working another popeye-groove, the relaxed, broken-up drumming (perhaps, Smokey Johnson) had the tight-but-loose feel that would come to be a hallmark of good funk on down the road; and it put some swing into the proceedings to boot. No, it's not Eddie's most exciting vocal; but its casual feel suits the track and carefree mood of the lyrics well. If this indeed was done during the Rip-era (which is very likely), it's far and away the best of the bunch. What really amazes me is how good the recording quality is. Charly obviously had access to session tapes of some kind. The soundstage is open, the fidelity excellent. As I mentioned back in '05, probably what kept this from release was Eddie's flub after the sax solo. He came in too early and had to improvise for a bar. It's a minor thing that he probably meant to fix later and never got to do. The Charly LP also has another unissued track with the same date, "Something's Working", an upbeat, double-time shuffle with a searing sax break, that was likely meant to be the other side of the projected single. It, too, sounds marvelous. Martin Lawrie still holds out hope that "I Just Keep Rolling" came out on vinyl that has yet to be discovered - but I sincerely doubt it at this point.

Eddie finished off his run with Rip writing and producing Reggie Hall's last single (#160) for the label, as discussed, as well as the final Rip release that came out in early 1964, "You've Got The Nerve" b/w "Walking In Circles" (#576) by the popular local singer, Bobby Mitchell. Definitely the best vocalist to have recorded for Rip, Mitchell, who was Bo's cousin, did an admirable job on the songs, which Eddie personally tailored to fit the singer's style. The A-side was another typical popeye mid-tempo dance groover, while the other was a deep soul ballad that had Mitchell digging down and testifying to great effect. Unfortunately, it was his last record, as he soon retired from the music business and went to medical school. The fact that another single met with total indifference in the musical marketplace was probably the main reason Roberts pulled the ripcord and bailed out of the record business.

All of Eddie's Rip single material has been complied by Tuff City/Night Train on the CD, New Orleans Twist Party, along with four tunes from Reggie Hall's releases, Bobby Mitchell's two sides, and some very obscure Professor Longhair numbers. Transferred from obviously well-worn vinyl to digital, the CD is short on decent sound quality; and there are no notes - but it is still the only extensive Rip audio overview available.

Bo's Cinderella Story

In 1963, Eddie Bo recorded two singles under his own name and produced one for Tommy Ridgley on the Cinderella label, which had just been started by businessman Irving Smith, who ran a successful family-owned record store at the 2019 St. Charles Avenue address shown on most of the records. Contrary to information at the otherwise informative Eddie Bo Discography, it does not seem likely that Bo owned or had a financial interest in this label, as far as I can tell. Prior to Cinderella, Smith became a partner in the formation of Instant Records in 1960 with Joe Banashak and popular local DJ Larry McKinley, the owners of Minit Records. Both of those labels did well for several years, having Allen Toussaint as their young-gun, hit-making producer, arranger and primary songwriter; but, by 1963, things were deteriorating. Toussaint was drafted, McKinley bowed out, and Banashak encountered serious financial difficulties with another of his businesses. After a disagreement with Smith about a decision affecting Instant, Banashak offered to buy out his interest; and Smith accepted. Soon thereafter, Cinderella appeared; and The R&B Indies tags Smith as the sole owner.

Cinderella's first single was by Art Neville, popular local vocalist on loan from Instant where he had a recent substantial hit with the Toussaint ballad, "All These Things". Smith released a swinging, pop version of Toussaint's "Lover Of Love" (#1201) by Art, which Toussaint may have produced. As I speculate, this single, with just the instrumental accompaniment as the B-side, could have been sourced from an unissued Instant track that was part of Banashak's payoff to Smith. Regardless, even though Neville was hot at the time, this single didn't do much business. Then, after a non-starter split-session featuring Harold Battiste and Willie Tee ("Foolish Girl") released on #1202, Bo came into the picture on label's third 45, a party record that hearkened back to the days of rock 'n' roll past.



"Shake, Rock, And Soul" (Eddie Bo)
Eddie Bo, Cinderella 1203, 1963
LISTEN

Dancing on the blurry, arbitrary line betwixt and between rock and soul, this record came down on the side of pure fun. Sure, it was something of a throwback that managed to quote the intro lyrics to "Blue Suede Shoes" and recall Big Joe Turner's classic jump blues, "Shake, Rattle And Roll"; but it was just an excuse for Bo to pull off a great dance groove. There was nothing profound going on as he urged his girl to get out on the floor, called out the popular dances of the day, and let loose with some screams. While it's refreshing to hear a song from this era that didn't have the popeye shuffle under it, record buyers at the time did not agree. Meanwhile, reassuringly (or not), the popeye groove was back on the filp side, "Reassure Me", the kind of song that Eddie could toss off in his sleep and not break a sweat. Pleasant enough, but forgettable.

For the next release, Tommy Ridgley was the featured vocalist, with Bo writing the A-side, "No One But You", and more than likely producing and arranging. It was a generally straight, well-executed. mid-temp pop tune, except for some annoying, far from soulful, female backing singers. Also, I think it was misnamed, since Ridgley and the girls consistently sang "no one but me" in the choruses. As a matter of fact, BMI listis it as "No One But Me". Things improved a bit on the back side, though.



"The Goose" (Gus E. Lewis & Rosemary White)
Tommy Ridgley, Cinderella 1204, 1963
LISTEN

On yet another dance record, the lyrics encouraged everybody to get out and do the Goose - which, despite being danceable, might have been a hard sell for several reasons - including the slang meaning of "goose". That's a different dance altogether from the one described, in which case, it is far better to do it than have it done to you! When I didn't recall anything about the writers, I checked the BMI database and discovered that Gus Lewis was also shown as a co-writer on both sides of Bo's previous Cinderella single,too, and several of his later songs. Then I remembered that I had a grapevine comp (now out of print?), Crescent City Funk and more..., that had a great track, "Let The Groove Move You", by Gus 'The Groove' Lewis. The notes further refreshed me that Gus was a local DJ and small label owner (Libra), who recorded and wrote for Inell Young - Eddie also worked with her later. Small world. Since Gus worked in radio, I suspect Eddie gave him a song on Ridgley's 45 and some co-writing credits to encourage airplay.

Although "The Goose" has grown on me, it was pretty generic dance fodder and had those same backing vocalists from the other side, but sounding somewhat more tolerable. And so, Bo and Ridgley's hitless streak continued, as the payoff for this one was chickenfeed or less, as you might expect by this point.

Bo stepped up again on #1205 with two more of his own songs, "Just Like A Monkey" b/w "Have Mercy On Me", also from 1963 - a devilishly rare 45 and his last for the label. Martin at the EBD doesn't even have one. He borrowed his label scans of it from Larry Grogan, who displays and discusses the single at his Funky16Corners webzine Eddie Bo Archives. I had never heard the songs until my friend, Peter, recently furnished the audio and scan; and the top side proved to be revelation.

"Just Like A Monkey" (Eddie Bo)
Eddie Bo, Cinderella 1205, 1963
LISTEN

Larry Grogan described this cut as a transitional record for Eddie, as he began writing more in the style of Chicago (think Impressions) and Detroit soul (think Motown), which was selling at the time, pursuing the ever-elusive hit. Specifically here, he likens the cut to Smokey Robinson & the Miracles' "Mickey's Monkey" on Tamla/Motown, also from 1963 (as does Ana in the comments section); and I can hear why. Besides the obvious monkey references, playing off the popular dance of that name, the beat used is similar on both tunes. You might call it part Bo Diddley, part hambone/hand-jive. But I also hear something of the New Orleans second line in both versions - Bo's in particular; and, to me, it marks a much bigger transition for Eddie.

Now, those of you who actually read these posts, and/or who know about New Orleans music of the 1960s in general, will recall the story about Joe Jones taking a bunch of New Orleans players and singers to Motown in 1962 to audition for Berry Gordy. Earl King got the nod and was signed (and had no releases!); but the player who most impressed Gordy was drummer Smokey Johnson, who was asked to stick around when the others left and show the in-house drummers how to play those tricky New Orleans rhythms. It often took two of Motown's drummers to deliver what Smokey was playing by himself; but they got it, pretty much. I humbly suggest that one of the early results of that teach-in by Smokey can be heard in the groove of "Mickey's Monkey", one of the great party records.

Now, what Eddie brought to the party was maybe derivative and inspired by the success of "Mickey's Monkey" which was a big, big record; but Eddie reclaimed the spirit of the thing for his hometown, turning it into a percussion-heavy second-line jam. This track instrumentally was mostly drums and handclaps, with a bass and guitar mixed way down, and that hypnotic repeating horn pattern. If you want what just might be Eddie's first foray into the linear groove territory of what came to be known as funk - I think this was it, six years before "Hook & Sling". How sweet is that? Bo's lyrics were playful, describing how the music brought out the simian in those who heard it. The only distraction for me is the background singers, a soulless lot, who probably were the culprits on Tommy Ridgley's earlier session, too. But, Bo didn't give them much room to mess things up on this significant groover.

The B-side, "Have Mercy On Me", was much more straight ahead, R&B/blues shuffle material, well done, but pretty generic. No matter, the top side made all worthwhile, although, lest we forget, this single tanked just like the other ones. The world just wasn't quite ready for Bo-funk.

Sometime soon after Bo's final single, Cinderella released two more on Art Neville, "My Babe" and "My Dear Dearest Darling" (#1400), then "Little Liza Jane" with the same backside (#1401). Both of these singles are quite rare, as well. Jon at the nevilltracks Complete Nevilles Discography reminds us that Neville's cover of "My Babe", made famous in the 1950s by Little Walter Jacobs and written by Willie Dixon, was comped by Night Train/Tuff City on the New Orleans Soul A Go-Go CD. Bluesy in a New Orleans kind of way, it doesn't sound like a Bo production to me. I thought the B-side of both singles might be a version of Eddie's song, "My Dearest Darling" recorded first by Bo for Chess in 1957 and taken to hitdom by Etta James in 1960 on Argo; but I just got in a label scan and audio of the tune which lead elsewhere. Although Art is credited as the writer, the song sounds a lot like "Dearest Darling" by Huey Smith & the Clowns from 1959 on Ace (thanks to Ana for bringing the song to my attention). Compared to the Smith tune, Neville's song has a very similar doo-wop style, chord changes, melody line; and the first verse is almost identical. So, I'd venture that Art lifted it from Huey; and Eddie was not involved one way or the other. Also, I got to hear "Little Liza Jane", which sounds almost country! I don't know who could have produced that session. All in all, I detect no signs of Bo-consciousness among Neville's final Cinderella sides.

One final note on Cinderella. The R&B Indies lists two Cinderella singles for Clarence 'Gatemouth' Brown, numbered 1021 and 1024; and I have seen a label shot of another Cinderella 45 by 'Gatemouth', "Here I Am" b/w "Chicken Shake" (#1053?). While the 45 label looks similar, the cursive script of the logo is not the same; and I am pretty sure this was not the New Orleans Cinderella. The producer shown on the 'Gatemouth' single I saw was Jimmy Duncan; and the record label says "distributed by Cue Records, Inc." Cue Records seems to have been a Houston, Texas label that operated in the 1960s, according to the Indies; and Jimmy Duncan was one of its artists. So, we won't worry about any Eddie Bo connections there and can conclude that Irving Smith's Cinderella ceased operation after Art Neville's releases, having issued just seven singles.

Some Stuff On The Side. . .

I'm going to finish up Part 4 with a couple of fine projects for other artists Bo was involved with probably during or right after his work with Cinderella. I'm not exactly sure about the extent of what he did, if anything, on the production side of one of these; but he wrote both of the featured tracks. Of course, he had prior experience working with and writing for both artists on Ric.



"Going To The City" (E. Bocage - D. Johnson)
Johnny Adams, Gone 5147, 1964
LISTEN

Released nationally on Gone, a subsidiary of Roulette Records in New York, this gospel-inspired R&B mover had an irresistible groove and effective arrangement. Martin at the EBD doesn't think this sounds like a typical Bo production; but it reminds me of the fantastic side Bo wrote and produced for Johnny on Ric, "Tra-La-La", from 1962, which also had a similar gospel style and a swing to the groove. So, there was a precedent. What is most unusual about the cut is how well it was recorded and mixed - the sound is big, open, and compelling - surprising, since the backing on the track is pretty simple - drums, handclaps, guitar(s), chorus, and substantial but sparingly used horns (why no piano?).

Speaking of inspirational, it must have been so righteous as a composer to have Johnny Adams do your songs. His voice was purely soulful, with an incredible range, and packed a powerful emotional punch. He came up singing in the church before signing with Ric and going secular at the end of the 1950s; and it shows. For me, the goosebumps come up listening to "Going To The City" about a minute and a half in, before the break, when Adams hit that incredibly high multi-note run on the word "soon". Holy shit! He had it goin' on.

"Going To The City" was the B-side of "I'm Grateful", also written by Bo, a stately, conventional deep soul ballad, until, at the end, Johnny jumped up to his helium-like falsetto range. Information about the single is slim to none. The sides also came out on Dynamics (#1101), an obscure Detroit label. But I strongly suspect the sessions were based in New Orleans. Jeff Hannusch mentioned in his feature on Adams in I Hear You Knockin' that Bo recorded him for Al Scamuzza's Scram label, saying that the session "came close to being leased by Roulette". Hmmm. If it was this session and was done for Scramuzza , it must have been during the unsuccessful attempt to get Scram established in the early Sixties, between 1962 and 1965; and there is no evidence, as yet, of a Scram release of this 45. Then again, this arrangement has some features in common with Wardell Quezergue's production work for the Watch label (see/hear the next track), especially the big assemblage of horns and the impressive sound of the recording in general - plus Adams made some records for Watch at this time. But, Bo did not work with Watch, as far as I know. Either way, how did the sides get onto Dynamics in Detroit and Roulette/Gone? I don't rightly know, but can venture a guess on the Detroit angle. Joe Jones had taken Adams and a number of other New Orleans artists to Motown to audition for Berry Gordy in 1962. Johnny was the one Gordy wanted, but he was signed to Ric at the time, so Gordy passed. Perhaps during that trip, Adams or Jones made a connection that got Johnny a release on Dynamics. [Some further digging leads me to think the Dynamics single came out after the Gone release - several years later; but I remain at a loss to explain why or how it all happened. I'll keep you posted. . . .]

As good as the efforts of Eddie and Johnny were, and no matter what label was slapped onto that record, where it went was nowhere - a black hole of a bad luck story. The Gone single was the final release from the label, which may be the main reason nobody much heard it. It also looks like the Dynamics release may have marked that label's demise into a final state of entropy, as well. Man, that 45 was a killer, alright, literally.

Tommy Ridgley also had a another release that Bo was involved with to some extent; and it had a connection back to Ric Records. In 1963, Joe Assunto, owner of the One Stop Record Shop and brother-in-law of the late Joe Ruffino , established the Watch label with partner Henry Hildebrand of All South Record Distributors in New Orleans. They took over Adams' Ric contract, such as it was, and began recording other artists, too, including Dell Stewart (a protege of Earl King), Benny Spellman , and Professor Longhair over the next few years. Having a deal with London Records to distribute their records nationally, they hired the multi-talented Wardell Quezergue to run the sessions. The partners gave Ridgley a shot in 1964, putting out the single on a subsidiary label they set up, Johen Records; and the A-side was this strong Eddie Bo-penned contender.



"I Want Some Money Baby" (Bocage-Terry)
Tommy Ridgley, Johen 9200, 1964
LISTEN

As leader of his own horn-heavy band, the Royal Dukes of Rhythm, Quezergue naturally went for the sound of a big horn section and uptown R&B arrangements, which was a perfect match for Bo's tune. Lyrically, it was a rehash of the Barrett Strong Tamla/Motown 1959 classic, "Money" (written by Berry Gordy). One of New Orleans' best R&B singers, Ridgley did a fine job delivering those lyrics over a more sophisticated musical structure; but, as he told Jeff Hannusch in The Soul Of New Orleans, London did not hold up their end of the bargain, failing to deliver any promotion for the single, which ensured that it go no attention. Stung, Assunto and Hildebrand did not use the Johen imprint or record Ridgely again. But Bo continued collaborating with Tommy for the next few years on other labels, trying to find something that clicked commercially. More on that soon. . . .

Bo's co-writer here, "T. Terry", was Theresa Terry, who shared several songwriting credits with him in the mid 1960s, as I have discussed in another post. I don't know anything about her, or if she was an active collaborator or just another name of some family member Eddie used to evade the IRS (as if he were making any money at this!); or, perhaps, Terry was the wife of some DJ who Eddie promised a cut of royalties to in return for airplay. As a general rule, Bo wrote both the lyrics and music; and, if other names appeared in the credits for his songs, such as his wife, Delores Johnson, they were not actual contributors.

Next time, which I promise will not be so long in coming, I will highlight the labels that Bo started on his own in the mid-1960s, which turned out to be a terrible time to get into the R&B/soul record business. We'll see Eddie still struggling for his financial rewards, experimenting with different sounds, and growing as a producer, composer, and performer. So stay tuned for more adventures in Bo-consciousness.

[Great thanks to Peter for label shots of Rip 154 (Dick Richards) and Rip 160 (Reggie Hall), plus the audio for 160, and for the shots of Dynamics 1101 and Cinderella 1205. Equal appreciation to Martin at the Eddie Bo Discography for shots of At Last 1006 and Rip 154 (Eddie Bo). General background information for this post was sourced from Jeff Hannusch's books shown above, plus John Broven's Rhythm and Blues In New Orleans. As mentioned in the post, Larry Grogan's Bo info and audio at Funky16Corners (the webzine and blog) are always crucial. Discography information was derived mainly from The R&B Indies and the EBD. Rick Coleman's notes for Charly's Vippin' and Voppin' and Bear Family's Bobby Mitchell and the Toppers were also helpful. Thanks to all the real music writers and documentarians for the continuing education! I couldn't do it without y'all.]

HOTG Summer Concert Series, Part 2

Toussaint At Tip's: Feelin' The Love

One of the best concerts by Allen Toussaint I've been to in quite a while was his headline appearance at Tipitina's 30th Anniversary Party last year. With Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen opening the show, it promised to be a helluva night and definitely delivered. I've seen Toussaint play live numerous times, mostly at outdoor events such as Jazzfest in New Orleans and Festival Internationale here - and he's always first rate, having become more confident and comfortable in the role of frontman over the years. Some of those shows had better, more wide-ranging set lists than this one - but, still, this night seemed a cut above. Maybe what set it apart was being at Tipitina's packed to the rafters in a throw-down party atmosphere, and close to the stage; it was intense. The band was tight and in da pocket; and the man himself was really on top of his game, having fun, and playing his tuchus off! I'm sure the noisy, undulating, adoring hometown throng helped his attitude immensely, so much so that at at one point he said, "This is heavy. This is not business as usual!" Mark it down as another one of those timeless New Orleans shows when you are so into the music that you can't imagine being anyplace else in the universe other than that sweet spot.

An anonymous benefactor recorded the show on some little hand-held digital voice device - nothing remotely high fidelity - and recently bestowed a copy to me. I've enjoyed reliving the experience. So, I decided to share the joy and feature a couple of songs in our "concert" series, to give you at least a glimmer of what it was like being there. I had to convert the tracks to mp3 from another format - so the audio has been through a digital sampling Cuisinart by this point - but I still think you'll get the idea. . . .


Some other Southern night....

Intro and opening song
Allen Toussaint, live at Tipitina's 30th Anniversary Party, 1/19/2008
LISTEN

Man, I can't figure out what instrumental this is - a Toussaint original, I'm sure - and have been having a week-long senior moment about it. It sounds so familiar; and yet I have been all through my archives and searching online for a recorded version and cannot find one. Now, I know that there are some stone Toussaint freaks and geeks out there who can help a brother out. What is the title of this one - and has it been commercially released?

As you can hear even through all the sketchy club acoustics and downsampled compressed audio approximation, Toussaint and the band just came out smokin'. His rippin' and runnin' keyboard comping was powerful stuff without a doubt. And saxman Brian 'Breeze' Cayolle really impressed me anew - blowing hard and soulfully throughout the entire hour and a quarter set- a force o' nature. The locked and loaded rhythm section was the same group that has been regularly backing Allen for while now: Herman LeBeaux, drums; Allen's son, 'Reginald' on congas; Chris Severin, bass; and Anthony Brown, guitar. As you can maybe tell, the crowd, including me and my wife, just went nuts with the force and funk of this kick-off.

"I Feel Some Love In Here" (Allen Toussaint)
LISTEN

Yes, there was love and respect in the air that night: from Allen to us, from us right back at him, and from everyone to Tipitina's for it's three decade history of significance in the community as a venerated music venue, and more. In the early days, there were some picnic tables in the un-airconditioned club for eating the hippie-cooked food dished up with the beers and mainly homegrown music on stage. Professor Longhair often played there in his final years - the place was named after one of his best known songs (with that added 's) and was sort of set up to give him a home base where he could do his stuff. Over the years, the food and seating disappeared, A/C was installed; and Tip's grew up to become the place to catch quality roots acts from around the world. Since it's inception, I've seen more amazing shows there than probably any one other establishment. After several changes of ownership, Tip's has now morphed into part of a meaningful foundation offering entertainment plus a multitude of services to the music community. But it's still sacred ground; and you can always rub off some of the good juju in there by touching the bronze bust of Fess near the front door as you pass.

More of an extended vamp really than one of Toussaint's finely crafted songs, "I Feel Some Love In Here" not only set the mood for the love-fest, but allowed the band to stretch out a bit and solo over the percolating strut of a groove. Allen used the majority of the verses to give shouts-out to many of the more unsung artists who where a part of the scene back when he was coming up and making a name for himself - spreading the love to those who didn't get the breaks but contributed much to the city's heritage - a characteristically generous gesture from a man who has been having quite a professional resurgence over the past few years, but obviously doesn't want the world to forget that truly worthwhile music is a continual collaboration in and across time.

To that end, about half of Toussaint's set was a musical history tour in the form of a long medley (at least 15 tunes) of the great hit records birthed in New Orleans in the 1950s and 1960s, some of which he wrote and/or produced, some he didn't, from "Rockin' Pneumonia", though "Ooh Poo Pah Doo" and "Fortune Teller" to "Tell It Like It Is" and Cissy Strut" plus many in between. Then, he closed the show with two classics from Fess' repertoire, "Tipitina", of course, and "Big Chief", palpably summoning Longhair's spirit in the process - a fitting finale to a moving (in so many ways) night of celebration - and once again revealing Allen Toussaint to be not only a supremely classy act, but also a charming, disarming gentleman perfectly capable of getting way up into your funky business until you feel some love, too.

HOTG SUMMER CONCERT SERIES, Part 1

A request from a reader/listener to post or re-post some live stuff from Dr. John and/or the Meters reminded me that it has been way too long since I have put up any performance recordings at all. So, I decided to do a little series off and on this summer featuring some more live material. The more serious traders and collectors out there probably already have these - one has been on YouTube for a while now. But, I hope you will agree it's good to get to hear these players in their prime from back in the day. Maybe we can put up some more recent funky stuff, too, as we go along. Today's kick off contains two vintage broadcast performances from the same year. Hope you enjoy 'em.

DR. JOHN AND BAND GET "LIFE" LIVE



"Life" (Allen Toussaint)
Dr. John and the Rampart Street Sympathy Orchestra, 1973
LISTEN

Back in 1973, Dr. John (Mac Rebennack) was on tour in support of his new album, In The Right Place, which was doing very well for him on the basis of the radio hit singles taken from it, "Right Place, Wrong Time" and "Such A Night". Allen Toussaint produced the LP, geared it a bit more for the pop market, but recruited the Meters as the core rhythm section. The results were an exceptional mix of funk and quirky pop. As a result, Mac did some touring that year with the Meters, using them as a backing band a few times, and on other dates rolling as a New Orleans revue with his own band, plus the Meters and Professor Longhair on the bill, as well. In the case of this show, a live radio broadcast from a recording studio, with a small audience, it was Mac and his band alone, billed as Dr. John and the Rampart Street Sympathy Orchestra. For more details about the show, including a full set list and band line-up, check my earlier posts on two other songs from the night, "Let The Good Times Roll" and "Qualified". As might be expected, the sound quality and mix are excellent.

"Life" was a track from In The Right Place that Toussaint may have written just for that project, as I don't know of any earlier recordings of the song. One of his unique clockwork type of compositions built of simple parts, it transcends categorization as funk, pop or even New Orleans music. Its central circular groove used an ascending eight note riff that achieved its unique push-pull feel by being offset Instead of moving straight bottom to top in the course of its two bar run, it starts in the middle, climbs for four beats, then drops down to the bottom note to begin the second bar of four notes rising, continuing that back and forth sequence throughout. The rise and fall back had an implied syncopation that, coupled with the hip, broken shuffle of John Boudreaux's drums and the various other patterns layered in by piano, bass, horns and vocals, created an intricate whole that had to be played precisely to have the desired result. Hats off to Mac and his great road band for making it work perfectly live and seem so effortless.

Another aspect of "Life" I've long noticed is that it one of a number of Toussaint songs with lyrics that don't make much sense. The words sound good sung together; but I have listened to it literally hundreds of times over the years and could still not really tell you what it's about. Like some of the Steely Dan repertoire, having to be played as exactly written to work, plus the cryptic lyrics probably kept the song from being performed more often by others. The New Orleans eccentric genius, pianist James Booker, was one of the few to do it - and, of course, Toussaint himself, though he has never released a studio version of the song, and only infrequently does it live. Guess that qualifies it as somewhat of a rarity on several fronts.

LOOK-KA: THE METERS TAKE IT TO THE TV JUNGLE

"Look-Ka-Py-Py" (Modeliste, Neville, Nocentelli, Porter, Jr) and
"Jungle Man" (same)
The Meters, live in Chicago, 1973
LISTEN

Making another kind of sense altogether, the Meters' "Look-Ka-Py-Py" dispenses with any semblance of meaning and just uses vocal nonsense syllables to further syncopate it's deep funk groove. Originally recorded by the band in 1969 and released on Josie Records, the song got up almost into the Top Ten nationally and was one of a string of their singles that sold well during the period. The story goes that the band developed the it while driving to a gig, trying to mimic the sounds of their misfiring van engine.

This live version coupled with "Jungle Man" comes from a 1973 television broadcast they did while touring with Dr John and his band in the New Orleans revue format, which also included Professor Longhair (and on this show, Earl King). It was Mac's generous idea to highlight the under-recognized music from his hometown as he toured extensively on the basis of his hit singles from the In the Right Place album. Well, that and Phil Walden was trying to manage both Dr. John and the Meters at the time and co-booking their dates. Unfortunately, the concept was a hard sell for concert promoters unfamiliar with New Orleans musical history and did not last too long.

Zigaboo Modeliste's drumming on this take of "Look-Ka-Py-Py" was seriously wide open, loose-limbed and improvisatory, guaranteed to set backfields in motion. Unofficial (at that point) bandmate Cyril Neville's non-stop flurry of conga beats seemed to be an attempt to fill all the creative space the foursome left on purpose in the tune, which kind of worked against the concept; but things settled down as they segued into "Jungle Man" (from their second Reprise album, Rejuvenation), and dug down in the groove. It was a brief but musically subversive strut in the TV spotlight.

MID-YEAR REVIEWS: Everything Old Is New Again

I've had a few CDs sent to me for review this year, plus a couple more that I bought over the past few months. So, I am breaking in here mid-year to do some, ummm. . .uncompensated infomercials, I guess you might call them. This highly subjective short list does not scratch the surface of recent New Orleans releases. So, as always, I encourage you to do your own homework on the output of current New Orleans bands - since you might have noticed I cover mostly old, out of print vinyl - and purchase their products, go to their shows, keep 'em alive and thriving. Offbeat has plenty of gig listings, reviews and features in the magazine and online; or check the new releases at The Louisiana Music Factory, a business I regularly link to and plug because Barry Smith and his krewe have been representing the local music scene fairly and faithfully for 17 years now, hanging on by their fingernails through the Katrina disaster, while the indifferent corporate giants have come and gone. At least one cut from each of these albums will soon be in rotation at HOTG Radio. Now, on with the subjects at hand:

Wild & Free, The Radiators, Radz Records, 2008 - This great two CD set of rarities issued last year to celebrate the Radiators' 30th anniversary was sent to me by their label just a bit too late for my mini-reviews of 2008 releases this past January; but I have been diggin' on it in the meantime. Since I have covered the Rads a couple of times before, you regular readers (I use the terms "regular" and "reader" very loosely), may recall that I have been a fan of da band since their first year or so together, when I just happened to catch them playing at Tipitina's on one of my trips into town, either late in 1978 or early the next year. In my first powerful dose of their diversely influenced yet original brand of improvisational roots rock, I was reminded of the Band and Little Feat, while hearing a creative San Francisco Sixties kind of vibe interwoven with the real-deal organic essence of funky New Orleans R&B and Southern soul. Mightily impressed, I immediately jumped on board that night and let their impeccably played gonzo musicianship take me for a wild ride. Through the steamy, hazey air I swear I saw the walls of Tips literally rippling rhythmically with the intense waves of sound. OK, I admit I was contributing to that haze, but, still. . . .

In the spirit of experiences such as that, this CD offers some amazing sonic artifacts from back in dem days, including several live performances captured on singer/pianist Ed Volker's Akai reel-to-reel in 1978 at Luigi's Pizza, where they had a weekly gig, and at Tip's in early 1979 (I could have been at that one!). Listening to those is like time-traveling; and I'm reminded how solid and in the zone this band was from the start, already possessing their distinctive sound on Volker's ever-growing treasure trove of original tunes. The recording quality on the earlier live stuff is nothing short of miraculous, considering three decades of water under the bridge, with some literally spilling over the tapes, which were good and baptized by flooding back in 1995; but like the band, they held together through it all and lived to play another day.

The material on these CDs captures moments in time spanning all of those decades and is heavy on live content, with over half the tracks recorded at local gigs and venues around the country. There are choice, previously unreleased studio cuts, too, including two from 1978 done at the legendary Knight Studio in Metairie, where Rads guitarist Camile Baudoin was an engineer. If you are new to the band, Wild & Free would not be a bad place to start to get a feel for what they have been up to all these years. As confirmed fans and tape-traders well know, the Rads have always been best experienced first-person, in performance, or at least captured in their on-stage element. It was no accident that their very first album was a two LP live extravaganza of down and dirty, sweat-soaked rhapsodizing, Work Done On Premises, recorded at Tip's in 1980 and issued on their own label at the time, Croaker Records (also highly recommend). Frequent attendance at their gigs across the land is also advised (as is hearing protection), because, guaranteed, you will never hear the same show twice, as they spontaneously segue through their bountiful repertoire of originals and hip, often surprising covers. A couple of hours of CD programming, no matter how choice, is only a barely reasonable facsimile, a mere whiff of the heady hard stuff that these road-veterans can dish out on any given night; but, turned up loud enough, it'll do just fine until they roll into town.

The Lost Southlake Sessions, The Radiators, Radz Records, 2009 - I waited so long to talk about Wild & Free, this one came in - so I've doubled up. Although the Radiators have made, recorded and sold music on their own terms for the greater part of their 30 year history, when these session were done, they actually had a record deal with an entertainment conglomerate, music videos*, national commercial radio airplay, and the possibility of breaking big. Between 1987 and 1989, the Rads recorded two of three albums for Sony/Epic, Law Of The Fish and Zig-Zaggin' Through Ghostland, mainly using the relatively new Southlake Studios in Metairie, LA. There, at various points during the late 1980s, they also cut a number of demo sessions - original material, mostly written by keyboardist Ed Volker - that went missing along the way amidst the comings and goings of a regularly touring band. As Ed told me recently via email through their Radz label, "A lot of tapes were lost one way or another from Southlake over the years. . . . This [the recently found material on the new CD] is all from a cassette we took pains to master; and it was an exploratory demo session, never meant for release, but the years have been kind to it, so we decided others might like to hear it, too." Excellent decision, fellas.

A stroke of luck uncovered the cassette; and, thankfully, the Rads saw fit to digitally re-master and release it, so that we all now have access to at least some of those lost sessions, 14 songs, to be exact. It's a kick to listen in on formative, yet focused versions of these tunes, a number of which were later recorded for official releases. And while the sound may not quite be master quality, the kick-butt performances on this CD certainly are. Shoot. Maybe they never meant to release these sessions commercially, but they certainly could have - maybe should have. Much of the masterfully played material was that strong. Instead, renderings of six of the tunes found on The Lost Southlake Sessions appeared in 1991 on the band's third, final, and, to me, most uneven Epic album, Total Evaporation (a title which perfectly summed up their deal with the label), recorded in Memphis with the legendary Dixie Flyer, Jim Dickinson [who passed away 8-15-2009, I am sad to update], producing. Of course, that ship has long since sailed and sunk; but it seems now that the album could have benefited by using more of the songs from that lost cassette. Several more of them did eventually make it onto the Rads' later releases for various independent labels, including their own, and, of course, into the incredibly large reservoir of material they channel live nightly. Still, six of the songs here are new on CD, having never before appeared on a sanctioned Rads release.

Ultimately, I find this CD to be much more than just a cleaned up collection of old demos that only hardcore fans might want to hear. It merits a broader appeal. Volker is being too humble when he says simply that "the years have been kind" to the material. This music holds up incredibly well, still sounds fresh, and excellently represents the band's formidable session chops. Even within the limiting, insulated studio confines, they have always made compelling music together; but it is different from the feedback, spontaneity, and maximum energy of their wild and free on-stage experience, which will always be their true domain. There's much to enjoy from the Radiators either way.

* See 'em via YouTube: "Like Dreamers Do" and "Suck the Head"

Mindbender, Brother Tyrone, Joe's House of Blues, 2008 - Brother Tyrone came up on my none too finely tuned radar rather by accident, when I was doing some reading about the untimely death of the great New Orleans drummer, Wilbert 'Junkyard Dog' Arnold. Somewhere (how's that for journalistic excellence?) I saw that the last sessions JYD played were for this album. So, I had to check it out, knowing not much about Brother Tyrone other than having seen his name on listings around New Orleans before. Still, I kept forgetting to look for the CD when I was in town (I'm easily distracted), until, finally, I saw Tyrone on this year's Jazzfest lineup and made sure to be at the Congo Square stage that day and time. What a payoff. He and his fine band (most of whom played on this CD) kept me spellbound and grooving for the entire set of soul/blues tinged with funk. I could not believe that I had been missing such a stone soulful, old-school type singer for so long - why wasn't Brother Tyrone more widely known?

For the answer to that and more details about the CD, read Keith Spera's article on Mr. Tyrone Pollard at nola.com. Let's just say he's been keeping a low profile way too long, and is another example of the incredible musical talent nurtured in city's neighborhoods before Katrina tore them asunder. But, back to my impression of this album, which was produced by Everette Eglin, who also did the tasteful and tasty guitar work and wrote a number of the tunes. Mindbender is only Brother Tyrone's second CD (and like the first, Blue Ghetto, independently released), but it sounds like he has been making records for decades. Never over the top, the approach here hearkens back to the days of straightforward record-making in the South when all you needed was the right material, a great rhythm section, effective horn charts, and a singer at the microphone who could bring it all - no muss, no fuss, no gimmicks. Tyrone's vocals infuse the predominately blues-based songs on Mindbender with a genuine, natural, heartfelt soulfulness. My picks of the batch are Eglin's originals, all Katrina-related, "If You Ain't Cheatin'", a tale of post-flood separation and temptation, the funkified, wisely hip "When It's Gone, It's Gone", which manages to make seeing your record collection flushed out of your house seem funny ("There goes Albert King. He's too big to float."), and the poignant, in-the-pocket "New Indian Blues", that tells of Tyrone's deep connections to the people, places, and culture of the 6th Ward.

Besides the Junkyard Dog, who played the grooves fairly straight and to the point, and Eglin's expressive guitar tones on these tracks, other players of note are Marc Adams on keyboards - one of the city's best and a good songwriter, too (Tyrone does his deep soul "Can't Stop This Heartache"), and the always welcome Jack Cruz on bass, Wilbert Arnold's long-time groove partner in 'Wolfman' Washington's Roadmasters. The sparingly used horn section is unidentified. Tyrone partners with vocalists Sean C and Richard Dixon on a couple of tracks, and is righteously backed by two singers from the Gospel Stars, Rev. Mark Sandifer and Elijah Ott. Kudos, also, to engineer Mark Bingham of Piety Street Recording, who makes these tracks warm and inviting, with sounds that are real and richly textured - a feast for the ears often lacking in the digital domain. I hope this outstanding project bends some more minds and brings Brother Tyrone the prominence he deserves at home and abroad. He's still got time to make him some history.

Slither Slice, New Orleans Nightcrawlers, Threadhead Records, 2009 - Last and definitely not least on the list is this monstrous groove machine that manages to tie together top of the line playing, compelling, often intricate original jazz compositions, and the ultra-funky rhythms of the streets of New Orleans. The Nightcrawlers are a brass band with a difference and like no other in their hometown. Has it really been nine years since their last CD, cut live at the Old Point Bar in Algiers, and 12 years since their last studio recording? Guess they've all be busy elsewhere, as this group has always been the quintessential side project, its members vitally active at any given time in other groups - and, of course, there was that life-changing flood that sidelined everything. . . . After all this time, the line-up has changed somewhat, although the core of the group remains: trombonist Craig Klein (Bonerama, solo work, and more), saxophonist Jason Mingledorff (Papa Grows Funk), trumpeter Barney Floyd (New Orleans Jazz Orchestra, and more), and sousaphonist Matt Perrine (Bonerama, Tin Men, solo work, and you name it). Completing the group on Slither Slice and their occasional live gigs are Satoru Ohashi, trumpet, Brent Rose, tenor sax, Derrick Tabb, snare drum, and Terrence 'T-Bell' Andrews, bass drum. Various guests drop in on certain tracks, too, including drummer Stanton Moore and keyboardist Rich Vogel of Galactic, Alex McMurray of Tin Men, and guitarist Brian Stoltz of the Funky Meters and PBS.

I had been waiting for this CD since seeing the Nightcrawlers play an intense set at the French Quarter Festival last year (and this year, too) and hearing them say that they were getting ready to record much of the material they were playing that day; and Slither Slice lives up to my great expectations from start to finish. Cocktail music to chitchat over this is not, nor is it simply repetitive grooves, unison blowing, with a few perfunctory solos thrown in. An amazing amount of syncopated fire gets stirred up by their two drums and a sousaphone rhythm section. Add to that the complex, polyrythmic interplay and counterpoint of the assembled brass give and take, blowing, pumping, slurring, punching, gong new places in innovative ways; and you've got music that cannot be denied. Fun as it is, there is more going on than just one big throwdown funkfest of a party. This is music of substance, stimulating on multiple levels, freeing your ass, in George Clinton's dictum, for your mind to follow.

I think the Nightcrawlers have again raised the bar for brass band music in the city with this offering, in terms of musicianship and writing. Not since the Dirty Dozen were in their creative prime has a group taken the game to another level and smoked it like this. A funked up version of Verdi's Aida with a Caribbean feel? Even their one cover tune is outrageous.

Though not regular street paraders as a unit, the Nightcrawlers have distilled the unique essence of local brass band music, instilling the celebratory feel and kick with fresh, ingenious, and memorable tunes; and the evidence is Slither Slice, a project thankfully made possible with a production loan from the Threadheads. It could have come from nowhere else but New Orleans - where the new so often incorporates the old in surprising ways- and validates the sense that the spirit and cultural health of the city, as the band says, are gonna be alright, alright.

Longtime follower who have been with the band from their first two Rounder albums, New Orleans Nightcrawlers from 1996 and Funknicity from 1997, and caught their all too rare live dates, and/or that Live At The Old Point CD, will not be surprised by all this - just pumped; and if you have not been to the party so far, you can just jump into the second line right here, then backtrack later. It's attention grabbing stuff. People are going to talking about it and yeling for more. If these guys don't watch it, their regular gigs may soon become the side projects.

Nightcrawlers at FQF08 - photo by Dan Phillips

Shaking It Down For Michael

MICHAEL JACKSON 1958 - 2009

No matter how you felt about Michael Jackson's remarkable and frequently strange sojourn on Planet Showbiz, he undeniably had a huge impact one way or another on popular music, dance, and cosmetic surgery. As pictured above about age 20, around 1979 on the Off The Wall LP cover, this handsome kid had already been an entertainment powerhouse for at least a decade, and was just beginning a solo career after going about as far as he could with the family act, the Jackson 5 (a/k/a the Jacksons) , that he overwhelmingly dominated. He was writing his own material (some of which was really very good work) and would soon move units of product in unbelievably huge amounts through the music business pipeline, creating several of the largest selling albums in history, and becoming the King of Pop, a chimerical figure who over time conspired with compliant plastic surgeons to obsessively disfigure himself nearly beyond recognition (and Halloween), retreated to a ranch called Neverland, where he pretty much abandoned performing, hung out with children to the point of arrest and huge civil lawsuits, and, surrounded by various enablers paid never to say no to him, became a laughingstock and paparazzi wetdream, ever-promising the fabled comeback; and, it now seems, his longterm, hardcore drug abuse contributed to his ultimate downward spiral beyond the reach of anyone, ironically dying amid preparations for a dazzling multi-concert farewell to performing, which, as a result, has caused sales of his music to once again skyrocket. Death can be very good for your numbers. It is the peculiarly all too American success saga in all its tragic glory. I'm from Memphis. We had one one of those fame-outs about 30 years ago at a place called Graceland. . . .

What the hell does any of this have to do with New Orleans music? Blessedly, very little, really. The vast machinations of The Business have only peripherally touched New Orleans to such an extent; and, while we wish that all of the artists discussed at HOTG had attained at least some level of professional success and rewards, we really wouldn't wish Michael's trip on anybody. Give us Ernie K-Doe's charming, humorous, and (relatively) harmless megalomania, along with his late wife's community service, Fats Domino's downhome mega-sellers, Irma Thomas' bedrock genuine soulfulness, and Allen Toussaint's always classy career transformations - ANY DAY.

I'm not trying to demean Mr. Jackson here. He was talented in the extreme. But talent and fame can be a volatile mixture at best, a lethal one at the other end. It all just makes me appreciate the under-appreciated even more, as I crawl back under my rock to write about some of them. Talking with some people at work today about Michael Jackson's music, I got to thinking and realized I most dug Michael Jackson's work on Off The Wall, though I admired some of his other later tunes too. Then I recalled that the Rebirth Brass Band had covered one of Jackson's tunes from that period - it was actually on the Jacksons' 1978 album, Destiny (thanks to Brett for the heads-up) - in their early days. . . .


photo by Rick Olivier

"Shake Your Body Down to the Ground" (Steven Jackson-Michael Jackson)
Rebirth Brass Band, from Feel Like Funkin' It Up, Rounder, 1989
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When Rebirth Brass Band recorded this classic record for Rounder, they were all just into their 20s, I think, except for the diminutive trumpeter, Derrick Shezbie, who was much younger. Started in the Treme neighborhood around 1983 by brothers Philip (tuba) and Keith (bass drum) Frazier, and trumpeter Kermit Ruffins while they were in high school, Rebirth were really one of the first of the new wave of young brass bands to emerge in New Orleans, inspired by the success and innovations of the somewhat older Dirty Dozen Brass Band, who had revitalized the brass band sound starting in the late 1970s. In 1984, Chris Strachwitz of Arhoolie Records recorded RBB live at the Grease Lounge and released an LP/CD of those performances, Here to Stay. Birthed in 1989, Feel Like Funkin' It Up was the first of five fine albums the band did for Rounder Records.

This album's selections were a mix of some of RBB's hot, funky original tunes, a few brass band classics from the tradition, Fat Domino's "I'm Walkin'", and oddly this Michael Jackson radio hit from the 1970s, reconstituted in the Rebirth blender. That the Jacksons' hit song translated remarkably well into the struttin' Crescent City street idiom, speaks well of both it's musical quality and the young band's chops for arrangement and blowing. It ends all too soon.

Playing in the band on this record were the Frazier brothers, Ruffins, Shezbie, John Gilbert (tenor sax), Keith 'Wolf' Anderson (trombone), Derek Wiley (trumpet), and Kenneth Austin (snare drum). The Rebirth today remain one of the premier local brass bands (and there are many contenders who have arisen since they got their start) and tour extensively. The Fraziers and Shezbie remain the core of the group, while Kermit Ruffins has gone on to have a very successful solo career - thankfully, not in Michael Jackson terms, but in New Orleans terms.

So, let's shake it down and do some buck jumpin' for Michael, an amazing musician and entertainer who got lost in his own funhouse. It's all about the music. Whether you are making it or listening to it, you should never forget that.

[Note: this cut will be only up here for a short time, before it is transferred to the HOTG Radio playlist.]

Catch Porgy Jones

Trumpeter and bandleader Warren 'Porgy' Jones is another New Orleans musician who has had a long career in (and out of) the city, but made very few recordings as a featured artist, and has never been well known to the world at large. On several occasions, I have mentioned him here in passing in relation to other artists. After Eddie Bo heard Martha Carter singing with Jones' band around 1960, he got her signed to Ron Records. A few years later, Jones met the young singer, Willie West, became his manager for a time, and produced two singles on him for Frisco Records.

It was also for the local Frisco label that Jones recorded his own debut single, "Riding High" b/w "Say Yeah", two instrumental sides credited to Porgy & the Polka Dots. I've had that and one of Porgy's singles from the 1970s in my collection for a while. After I recently acquired another of his 45s from the 1970s, the mighty, two-sided, "Dap", I checked my discographies; and, as far as I can tell, those three appear to comprise his entire catalog. So, I thought I would feature cuts from each and attempt to shed at least a little light on this player who has been a part of the local music scene for at least 50 years.



"Say Yeah" (Porgy Jones)
Porgy & the Polka Dots, Frisco 103, 1962
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This single was the third issued by Frisco, which had just set up shop in 1962. Numbers 101 and 102 were by Al Adams, an alias for local DJ Harold Atkins, who also did promotion and A&R for the new label's owner, Connie LaRocca (originally from San Francisco), a restaurant cook with a passion for the music business. While Jones had been fronting a band under his own name for several years by that time, Porgy & the Polka Dots appear to have been invented just for this 45; and I am not sure if any of the players on it were actually his band members. The notes by Tad Jones to the useful Ace (UK) CD compilation, The Frisco Records Story, suggest that some of the musicians that Porgy used on his solo session were the same as used on his Willie West productions from around the same time: David Lee, Jr., drums; George French, bass; Alvin 'Shine' Robinson, guitar; Art Neville, piano; Clarence Ford, baritone saxophone; Eddie Williams, Jr., tenor saxophone; and, of course, Porgy on trumpet. So, any or all of them could have been on this session, too. The guitarist featured prominently on this cut sounds to me much like Earl King in his raw playing style and tone; but, after discussing it with Willie West, I think it is likely Shine.

To my ears, Porgy's debut 45 offered pleasant but rather generic R&B fare. I have chosen the rather bluesy B-side, "Say Yeah", as it is gritty and has a bit more going on rhythmically than "Riding High". Porgy managed to get off a few good runs; but this is mainly a guitar tune. Based on the common Popeye groove of the period, it had some syncopation going on in the kick drum, but was certainly no proto-funk masterpiece. Porgy's 45 obviously didn't particularly appeal to the public,as it failed to cause a stir, despite having a popular local DJ (Atkins) pushing it. No more commercially successful were Porgy's productions of his own original compositions sung by West, despite being musically much superior to this solo outing and having outstanding vocals to boot. So, Atkins and LaRocca brought in Wardell Quezergue to arrange and oversee West's only other Frisco single (which still did not sell); and Jones seemingly did no more work for the label in the remaining three years of its existence.

One more thing. Willie West has verified to me that Lee Dorsey wails, "Everybody say yeah", at the close of this side. Would that the whole tune had the soulful feel of those few seconds.

*****

In 1972, John Berthelot, who had recently started Great Southern Records in New Orleans, issued a press release* announcing that 'Porgy' Jones had been signed to "an exclusive long-term contract" and had a forthcoming new record, "Catch Joe Potato" b/w "Catch Me If You Can". Berthelot added that Jones had formerly been in the bands of Otis Redding, Joe Tex, Jerry Butler, and Curtis Mayfield. When the record came out, Berthelot issued a second publicity notice in which he stated that Porgy had "lived in his native New Orleans for the past five years performing with his own group at clubs. . .appeared at concerts in Jackson Square, on local television and numerous jazz shows. . .", and had "been voted outstanding trumpeter in New Orleans for the past two years in the Data Magazine Reader's Poll." Obviously then, Jones had been busy at home and on the road in the decade between his first and second releases. Now here he was again trying to break into what his boss at Great Southern termed the "R&B/Pop market".



"Catch Joe Potato" (Warren B. Jones)
Porgy Jones, Great Southern 103, 1972
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First off, I have no speculations about the title. Its inscrutability rivals anything Eddie Bo ever came up with to call a record, which doesn't exactly make it an effective mainstream marketing ploy. I first heard the song, its flip, "Catch Me If You Can" (again with the catch), and Porgy's only other two Great Southern sides on the Funky Delicacies compilation, Jazzy Funky New Orleans, back in 1999; and, frankly, it took a while for this one to grow on me; but the groove finally won me over. Although the arrangement is uncredited on the record label, I have a hunch that it was by the producer, Berthelot, who was a jazz pianist and composer, as he arranged Porgy's later single for the label. Well played, a simple accompaniment of percussion, bass and snarling wah-wah guitar supports Porgy's trumpet work. Berthelot has the congas dominant and the drum set secondary, mixed so that just the hi-hat is evident throughout, the snare only really heard at the turnarounds, with no discernible kick drum. Porgy's riffing over this funky, percussive business starts off slow and deliberate; but, by halfway in, he is improvising and meshed rhythmically with the other players. I'd give it a B, 'cause the kids could have danced to it, had they heard it.

"Catch Me If You Can" was probably really the more marketable of the two, with an easy, breezy mainstream jazz/pop vibe; but nobody picked up on either side. In all likelihood, Berthelot had limited promotion and distribution options for his small independent label product; and the record failed to get to the national level. I'm not even sure if either side got local airplay (anyone remember this from back in the day?). Probably not much, since it would be several more years until Porgy got another try with a much more impressive Great Southern production.



"Dap (Part l)" (John Berthelot)
Porgy Jones, Great Southern, 1974

Dap (Part ll)
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NOW we're talkin'! Porgy's second, and I believe last, Great Southern single took things to a whole other level of production quality: a powerful two-parter with an irresistibly uplifting groove, full horn section and instrumentation (guitar, bass, keyboard and percussion) and some great blowing by all concerned. The arrangement by producer Berthelot of his own hiply titled tune just knocked me back the first time I heard it and never fails to get me moving. The only difference in the two sides is the soloing: trumpet and organ take turns on the front, guitar ('Wolfman' Washingon, maybe?) and sax (possibly Alvin Thomas) on the back, with Porgy joining in again and gettin' kind of out there in a rideout duel with the sax. With its big band, Afro-pop meets Blood, Sweat and Tears kind of sound, this number is really unlike any other funk record out of New Orleans from the era that I can recall. No doubt, "Dap" should have made noise outside of the studio, too, but seems to have sunk without much of a trace; and I think Porgy's "long-term contract" with the label went with it, ending his career as a recording front man. Besides the Funky Delicacies compilation, this tune can also be found on the Soul Jazz CD/LP, New Orleans Funk, Volume 2, as well as for sale in the mp3 format. I highly recommend you go for the vinyl or CD and run "Dap" cranked through some decent full-range speakers to get the total impact of this impressive record - and clear the decks for some loose booty action.

Before I first acquired these tracks on CD, and then vinyl, I had known of composer/arranger/producer Berthelot mainly via his role as a label owner who sporadically released mostly LPs and CDs on Great Southern in the 1980s and early 1990s. I wasn't aware of his earlier funk productions or his compositional chops. I now have another instrumental single on Great Southern (#102) by flute and sax player Alvin Thomas, both sides written by Berthelot, that I'll try to get to in what passes for soon around here. And I'm wondering if there's anything else as yet undiscovered.

'Porgy' Jones has continued as a player and bandleader up to and beyond Katrina, which severely damaged his home. Besides the national acts John Berthelot mentioned that Porgy performed with, I've read that he also put in time with Ray Charles, who accepted no slouches in his band. Over the years, he has also backed a host of local artists such as Eddie Bo, Ernie K-Do and Earl King, and continued playing jazz, regularly performing at Jazzfest. In 2008, Porgy and a number of other legendary veteran New Orleans musicians such as 'Smokey' Johnson and 'Chuck' Badie, were honored by the Preservation Resource Center's African American Heritage Progam (AAHP). As Willie West told told me, assessing the talents of his longtime friend, who helped him get established on the local music scene over 40 years ago, "Porgy is. . .a great musician with still more to come from him, a soulful trumpet player and just as good or better than Wynton Marsallis or any other guy you could name playing today, certainly in the category of Miles Davis and Freddy Hubbard or any of the other jazz greats. Trust me. I consider him a brother. Great guy to work with."

Pretty impressive credentials, proving that Porgy has been a well-kept Crescent City secret for far too long.

* Berthelot's press releases are reproduced on the insert to the Funky Delicacies CD, Jazzy Funky New Orleans.

Respecting 'Red' Tyler

When we were in New Orleans two weekends ago for my step-daughter's graduation from Loyola (we're proud - and relieved!), my wife and I got a chance to go out that Saturday night and catch a tribute to saxophonist Alvin 'Red' Tyler, a free event at the Contemporary Arts Center put on by the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Foundation. Red, who passed away in 1998, was a talented, dependable constant on the local R&B and jazz scenes in town for some 50 years and was definitely overdue for some formal props. While living, this solid, humble gentleman was probably too much taken for granted, even overlooked, in his own hometown, not being a showboater, but rather a genuine ensemble player even as a leader of his own groups and on sessions. But the musicianship he displayed was always first rate. So, the high quality of performances presented that night at the CAC and the admiration and respect shown for Red certainly went a long way in making up for the 11 year delay in honoring him postmortem for his many accomplishments.

The evening was divided into music segments highlighting his R&B and rock 'n' roll session work as well as his long-time devotion to jazz. These were separated by discussions about and remembrances of Red by people who knew him well, such as jazz vocalists Germaine Bazzle and Ed Perkins, legendary musician and educator, Harold Battiste, and author, filmmaker, radio host and Breath Of Life blogger, Kalamu ya Salaam. Things began with a brief audio/visual overview of Tyler's career. Then the musicians took the stage. Performing over the course of the concert segments were a top of the line aggregation including drummers Albert 'June' Gardner and Johnny Vidacovich, bassists Chris Severin and George French, saxophonists Roderick Paulin and Thaddeus Richard, trumpet master Clyde Kerr, Jr., guitarist Steve Masakowski, and musical director of the program, pianist David Torkanowski (who also surprisingly got up during the rock 'n' roll segment and blew some pumpin' baritone sax!). Bazzle and Perkins also sang with the band, as did French; and all were outstanding. Most definitely, it was a memorable show that I'm glad we could attend. My thanks to David Kunian of WWOZ for hipping me to the tribute and suggesting that I do a post about Red. Duly inspired, I am more than glad to oblige.

STARTING NEAR THE TOP

From Harold Battiste's bio on Tyler in the well-done booklet included in his limited edition, four LP retrospective box set, New Orleans Heritage Jazz 1956 - 1966, I learned that Red did not play an instrument until he returned home from the service in the late 1940s, but had been fascinated by music since childhood, particularly jazz from brass bands to Earl Hines. Like many other musically inclined young WWII-era ex-enlisted men, Tyler used his GI-bill benefits to attend Grunewald School of Music on Camp Street in New Orleans. There he quickly learned the rudiments of the saxophone along with theory and arranging. In fact, Tyler said his studies and instrumental abilities came almost too easily for him. Soon after completing his courses, he was given the chance to play in the Clyde Kerr Band, which also allowed him entry into the musicians union. Clyde Kerr, Sr., an influential local musician and educator whose son later played regularly with Tyler, had a band full of serious players; and the experience of performing live in that company surely pushed Red to continually improve his skills. Union membership gave him the opportunity for other gigs and even some work on the road. Then, in 1949, he caught a real break when drummer Earl Palmer recommended him to Dave Bartholomew who had one of the most popular big bands in town. They were playing jazz and swing when Red joined, but soon began backing R&B singers such as Tommy Ridgley and Jewel King. Lew Chudd of Imperial Records had recently come to town and hired Bartholomew to scout local talent and produce records for the Los Angeles-based label; and, using his own impressive band, Dave began doing sessions on Ridgley, King, and the then unknown Fats Domino at Cosimo Matassa's first studio, a small room (10 x 12!) in the back of his record store, J&M Music Shop, on Rampart Street. That put Red in on the ground floor of the emergent New Orleans recording scene.

Those were exceptional times; and Tyler was off on a whirlwind of recording activity. In addition to tenor sax, he also played baritone, increasing his opportunities for horn section work, as more and more labels came to town to record and catch some that New Orleans magic. Much of the band on those early Imperial sessions became the core studio players in New Orleans R&B and rock 'n' roll for the next decade; and with them Red participated in countless sessions for various labels, backing Fats, Shirley and Lee, Lloyd Price, Little Richard, Professor Longhair, Paul Gayten , and Clarence 'Frogman' Henry, among so many others. What set those studio musicians apart was their ability to contribute creatively to each project, coming up with collaborative arrangements on the spot that gave the sides a fresh, innovative sound that helped change the face of popular music. Unfortunately, their arranging skills usually went uncompensated - but session work was plentiful and paid well enough that the players did not rock the boat to demand their due. Red was particularly gifted at those "head-arrangements" and was a valuable resource on most any session.

As Jeff Hannusch relates in The Soul of New Orleans, Cosimo Matassa referred Red to Johnny Vincent, owner of Ace Records, one of the first independent labels operating in New Orleans (though technically based in Jackson, MS). Vincent was looking for someone to oversee sessions and began using Tyler, who did a lot of work for the label in the later 1950s on an informal, ad hoc basis. After providing stealth production on records by the likes of Frankie Ford, Jimmy Clanton, Joe & Ann and even James Booker, in 1959 Red was given the chance to record his own instrumental LP for Ace, Rockin' and Rollin'. Vincent probably was spurred to do so by the success Tyler's frequent saxophone partner, Lee Allen, had with his 1958 single, "Walking With Mr. Lee", and album of the same title for Ember Records (which Red contributed to), plus Allen Toussaint, who had his 1958 instrumental debut LP on RCA, The Wild Sound of New Orleans by Tousan, and also utilized Red as a player and co-arranger/co-writer. Of course, there were plenty of other instrumental releases on the radio and in jukeboxes in those days by Bill Doggett, Ernie Freeman, Plas Johnson, and a host of others; and Red certainly had the chops to run in that company.

I've got several cuts up for auditioning and discussion from Red's own releases on Ace . But first, let's hear one of James Booker's sides that had Red's participation.

FROM ACE TO A.F.O.



"Teen Age Rock" (James Booker)
Little Booker, Ace 547, 1958
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This was young Booker's third release on as many labels, having first recorded a single in 1954. at the ripe old age of 14, produced by Dave Batholomew for Imperial (#5293), and then one for Chess (#1637) in 1956, a duet with Arthur Booker [no relation], credited to Arthur and Booker and produced by Paul Gayten . When this 45 was made, Booker was still just 19 and the keyboardist in Joe Tex's touring band. Tex was based in New Orleans at the time and signed to Ace himself, doing rock 'n' roll more or less in the style of Little Richard. According to Hannusch in I Hear You Knockin', Tex suggested to Vincent that he record the always remarkable Booker; and a session was set up, probably with Tyler in charge. Supposedly, Booker was to do two versions of an instrumental he had written, with one side featuring him on piano and on the other side, organ, which he had not been playing all that long. That's how it was originally recorded. Before the 45 was mastered, however, Vincent seems to have had second thoughts and got Joe Tex to overdub a vocal on the A-side, "Open The Door". The resulting patch job, done in the days when overdubbing was a rather crude process at best, had Tex's vocal drowning out the band's instrumental backing, leaving Booker's piano hard to hear. The single was issued anyway, credited to Little Booker, which had also been the keyboardist's alias on Imperial. There was no mention of Tex on the label of "Open The Door". I've chosen to feature the more compelling flip side. Although it was Booker's first recording on organ, he really cut loose.

The appropriately titled, "Teen Age Rock" was a raucous little mover kicked off by Charles 'Hungry' Williams' seriously grooving solo drums. Frank Fields was on bass, Lee Allen on tenor sax, and Tyler on baritone. Booker hit the keyboard running, flashing some of his killer virtuosity and getting a great sound out the instrument. Not that anyone noticed at the time. I'm sure with the sonically impaired A-side, DJs dumped this record without even flipping it. Can't blame Red for that, though. Johnny Vincent was notorious for messing with perfectly good tracks. Hannusch relates that Booker took great offense when he heard what had been done and skipped out on his contract, soon leaving Tex's band, as well. A few years down the road, he got revenge of a sort, when he briefly wound up in Houston and recorded some fine instrumental organ sides for Don Robey's Peacock label; and, on the first release, the now classic "Gonzo" became a substantial hit on the R&B and pop charts. It would be Booker's only big record. Later in the 1960s, he recorded more organ numbers as part of Lloyd Price's instrumental project, This Is My Band. Booker had no more releases until 1976, when he made the solo piano LP, Junco Partner.

Meanwhile, as noted, Tyler recorded his own sessions as a featured instrumental artist for Ace in 1959, resulting in the release of two 45s and that LP I spoke of. While the music was not groundbreaking, Tyler cut a nice batch of mostly original tunes that were well-played and up to date contenders.



"Snake Eyes" (Tousant [sic] - Tyler)
Alvin 'Red' Tyler, Ace 556, 1959
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There was some collaboration between Red Tyler and myself which was really terrific. He was really good at puttin' things together in the studio. He knew how the studio and recordings functioned so much better than I did at the time. - Allen Toussaint to Rick Coleman in the notes to The Complete 'Tousan' Sessions (Bear Family).

Long a favorite of mine, this thing is an unrelenting roller-coaster ride of a tune. Both "Snake Eyes" and the flip side, "Walk On" were co-written with Allen Toussaint and were likely unused material worked up for Toussaint's solo LP project on RCA from the previous year, mentioned above. I say that because the songwriting credits for these in the BMI database, show Toussaint as 'Al Tousan'. The sides were also included on Tyler's Ace LP, Rockin' and Rollin', from 1960. As Tyler told Jeff Hannusch, the players on his solo sessions were 'June' Gardner on drums, Frank Fields on bass, Justin Adams, guitar, Toussaint, piano, and Rufus Gore on second tenor sax. Other likely players on some tracks were James Booker on organ and Melvin Lastie on cornet. Of course, Tyler played both tenor and baritone saxes - though not simultaneously - and was the featured soloist.

While I do not have Tyler's original LP, I do have a reproduction of sorts from the mid-1980s released by the mighty UK re-issue label, Ace (no relation), Rockin' & Rollin', featuring all of Tyler's LP tracks plus a few other selected sides he produced for the US Ace label by Albert Scott, Joe & Anne, and Calvin Spears. In 1998, WestSide in the UK released a CD, Simply Red, containing all of the original Ace album tracks plus some alternate takes (with notes by Hannusch). It came out shortly after Red passed away; and it's too bad Red was not around to experience more people discovering his work.



"Lonely For You" (Alvin O. Tyler)
Alvin 'Red' Tyler, originally on Rockin' and Rollin', Ace 1006, 1960
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Also one of my favorite Tyler compositions, "Lonely For You" has that classic '50s minor key, film noir soundtrack feel that conjures up shady ladies, perpetually wet streets, and cigarette sucking private eyes investigating the gray areas of a black and white world. As I've noted before here, I'm a sucker for that semi-sleazy musical vibe. Red did a nice arrangement on this; and June Gardner's drum work was effectively understated. During the period, Gardner played regularly with Tyler's jazz combo (Toussaint and bassist Peter 'Chuck' Badie were the other members) at the Joy Tavern, but would soon leave the city to join Sam Cooke's touring band, a gig he kept until Cooke's untimely death in 1964. Leo Morris (Idris Muhammad), who had been Cooke's drummer, briefly took Gardner's seat in Tyler's band, followed by Smokey Johnson.

In 1960, Vincent spun off a second Tyler 45 (#576), using tracks from the LP, "Happy Sax" and "Junk Village". But none of Red's Ace records sold all that well. He told Hannusch that he was too busy with sessions to do gigs to promote his singles - besides, when he wasn't recording R&B, he wanted to play jazz. By 1961, Red had left Ace, but continued his bread and butter session work for other labels. It was then that he was approached by Harold Battiste* with an invitation to join him and an outstanding roster of other African-American musicians who were starting up their own label, A.F.O. (All For One), to give themselves more creative control and better compensation for their recording work. Impressed by the idea and the people involved, many of whom were fine jazz players themselves, both Tyler and Badie signed on as founding members and began working with the other co-owners on various projects, recording Prince La La, Barbara George, Willie Tee, Oliver Morgan, Jimmy Jules, Wallace Johnson, Eddie Bo, and Mac Rebennack, among other. Meanwhile, Red revamped his Joy Tavern group, bringing in other members of the A.F.O. staff, drummer John Boudreaux, Harold Battiste on piano and alto sax, and Melvin Lastie on cornet. They called themselves the A.FO. Executives and had as their featured singer a young woman Red had discovered, Tami (a/k/a Tammy) Lynn, who performed a mix of jazz standards, show tunes, and R&B.



"Ol' Man River" (J. Kern)
Tammy Lynn with The A.F.O. Executives, from New Orleans Heritage Jazz 1956-1966, 1976. Originally on A Compendium, A.F.O., 1963
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After playing together for several years and doing a bit of touring, the A.F.O. Executives recorded the album, A Compendium, in 1963 for their label. The LP contained many of their most popular nightclub numbers. "Ol' Man River" is an example of what they had to offer fronted by Lynn. It's a hip, syncopated swing arrangement that takes the tune far from Clichéville. Unfortunately for all involved, the label went under around that time, a result of a disastrous business deal involving the one big hit A.F.O. had, "I Know" by Barbara George, which was leased to Sue Records for national distribution. Sue principal, Juggy Murray, turned around and voided their contract out of the blue on a technicality and convinced George to sign with him, instead. The move deprived A.F.O. of it's major money-maker and closed the operation down in short order; and thus did a utopian music business dream dissolve. Disillusioned, the group hung together for a time and relocated to Los Angeles where Battiste had established contacts when he worked for Specialty Records and Sam Cooke. Those contacts allowed Battiste and some of the others, including Red, to do production, arranging and/or playing for Cooke's SAR label; but Tyler soon moved back home.

He started playing with pianist Ed Frank's band, but found session work less frequently in New Orleans. The recording business was changing - and where local R&B was concerned, not for the better. In the mid-1960s, Tyler, session guitarist/bassist George Davis, and Warren Parker started a production company, Par-Lo Enterprises. Their first major project was developing a song Davis and songwriter Lee Diamond had collaborated on, "Tell It Like It Is". They recruited singer Aaron Neville to record it; and the result seemed a sure-fire hit, except that they could not get any local or national record label to put it out. Undaunted, they decided to release it themselves on the Par-Lo label in 1966 and got Cosimo Matassa to handle it through his distribution company, Dover Records, which served many small labels. After giving popular local DJ Larry McKinley a cut of any publishing royalties, he started pushing the record; and it and caught fire around town, selling 40,000 in its first week of release, according to Jeff Hannusch. That amount of attention and demand caused the record to break in other markets and start climbing the charts, eventually becoming a #1 R&B record and #2 Pop, a crossover colossus that sold in excess of two million singles. Par-Lo/Dover rushed an LP out which also began selling. But....you may know the story here....in their success were the seeds of their demise. Dover was distributing the records as fast as possible, trying to keep up with demand, shipping them on credit to middlemen and retailers. When Neville's next few single failed to take off, things cooled off rapidly; and Dover could not collect much of the money it was owed or pay their record manufacturing bills. When the IRS came calling, Dover was unable to come up with taxes due, either. As a result, Matassa was bankrupt and had his asserts seized by the IRS, effectively taking down not only Par-Lo but many of the other poorly funded independent labels distributed by Dover. Soon, much of the recording business in the city had crashed. That chain-reaction implosion, plus the changing popular tastes brought on by the music of the British Invasion (much copied from New Orleans artists, ironically), dug a deep crater that only a few of the more stable local labels climbed out of. Things were never the same.

Also lost in the collapse was the second release on Par-Lo (#102), a fine instrumental featuring Davis on guitar backed by Tyler called "Hold On Help Is On the Way" that I featured in my tribute to Davis last year. The demise of Par-Lo devastated the partners. For his part, Tyler looked around at the smoldering rubble of his recording livelihood and decided it was time to move on. He continued to play jazz in clubs, with June Gardner and others, but took a day job to support his family. His group, the Gentlemen of Jazz, played for many years around the city; and he began a long working relationship with jazz chanteuse, Germaine Bazzle. In the 1980s, when Rounder Records came to New Orleans to record classic artists such as Johnny Adams and Irma Thomas, Red began doing sessions for them. As a result, he had the opportunity to record two fine LP/CDs of his own for the label, Heritage and Graciously, backed mainly by members of Astral Project, Johnny Vidacovich, Steve Masakowsk, David Torkanowski, and bassist James Singleton, a new generation of top notch jazz players in the city. After retiring from his job in the 1990s, Red devoted his time to playing jazz and touring as a part of Dr. John's horn section until 1998, when a heart attack took him at the age of 72.

Through the 1970s into the 1990s, Red and his group were regulars at Jazzfest; and it was there that I first saw him, in the late 1970s, one afternoon at my first Fest, when I ducked into the jazz tent to escape the rain and encountered something unexpected. I did not know of Red Tyler or Germaine Bazzle then; but, once in the tent, I could not leave, even as the rain shower stopped. Red impressed me so profoundly that day with his deep, calm demeanor and beautiful tenor sax tones. There was just something genuine and spiritual about that dapper cat - a true jazz Bodhisattva. I was an instant follower and made it a point to know more about him, back-tracking his amazing musical journey through my reading and growing collection of recordings. That whole festival was certainly a mindblower to me - but, 30 years on, I still remember that hour in the jazz tent most of all.

*Note - Harold Battiste heads The AFO Foundation. At their site you can find out more about the organizations' activities and history and purchase CDs featuring their founding members and later generations of players. Please do!

In Pursuit Of Bo-Consciousness - Part 3

WORKING WELL WITH OTHERS ON RIC & RON

As an arranger, songwriter and backing musician, Eddie Bo assisted a number of artists who were beginning or continuing their recording careers at Ric & Ron in the early 1960s, several of whom would go on to become big names in New Orleans R&B. Around this time last year, I featured one of Bo's early productions in a multi-song post. It was Robert Parker's first Ron single, "All Nite Long", a rockin', quirky two-parter from 1959. For additonal documentation, this time I’m featuring tracks by Irma Thomas, Johnny Adams, and Tommy Ridgley, three of the greatest R&B/soul vocalists the city has engendered, plus notable sides by two lesser known artists, Warren Lee and Martha Carter. There may be nothing musically groundbreaking about any of these tunes; but, Bo’s work for Joe Ruffino’s labels was an opportunity for him to learn the ropes of studio arranging and production on his own projects as well as on those of other fine young talents. While there were hits and misses in that process, even the lesser tunes are enjoyable, and, I hope, provide some context in terms of his career. Oddly, one of his earliest collaborations as an arranger for another artist proved to be the most commercially successful.

IRMA THOMAS



"Don't Mess With My Man" (D. Labostrie)
Irma Thomas, Ron 328*, 1960
LISTEN

In releasing this exceptional hit single, which was Irma Thomas' recording debut, Joe Ruffino took advantage of a slip-up by another new local label, Minit, owned by Joe Banashak and his silent partner, deejay Larry McKinley. Just 18 years old and already singing with Tommy Ridgley's band, Thomas had gone to an open talent audition Minit held in 1959, where she sang backed by a young pianist already working for the label, Allen Toussaint. While impressed by Irma, Banashak and McKinley did not commit to signing her on the spot, telling her they would be in touch. Disappointed, she told Ridgley what happened; and he soon arranged an audition for her with Joe Ruffino, who had recently added Ridgley to his Ric roster. The stars were in alignment, as not only did Ruffino want to record Irma immediately, he had the perfect song for her, the sassy, provocative "Don't Mess With My Man". The tune had been recently pitched to him by songwriter Dorothy Labostrie, who had also just penned Johnny Adams' debut hit on Ric, "I Won't Cry". Irma’s session was set up at Cosimo's studio; and, as fate would have it, Ruffino gave the arrangement duties to another of his new Ric signees, Eddie Bo.

Probably recorded late in 1959, the single came out early in the new year with a Labostrie ballad, "Set Me Free", on the other side. Most likely, Bo was on piano, and Mac Rebennack, who was Ruffino's right-hand man in those days, ran the session and played guitar; but the other fine players are less certain. With Bo's stop-time, pumping blues shuffle arrangement, a searing sax solo, and Irma's youthful, fetching vocal, "Don't Mess With My Man", a sly ode to marital double-dealing, became a local hit pretty much from the get-go. By May, it had broken nationally, rising to #22 on the R&B chart. When the action died down in a few months, Ruffino released a follow-up on Ron written and arranged by Bo, "A Good Man" (co-written with Thomas) b/w "I May Be Wrong". The top side was merely a rehash of her earlier hit, musically and lyrically, while the B-side was an exceptionally fine ballad, sung to perfection by Irma. I featured it back in 2006.

Her second Ron single played well locally, but didn't get much farther, even though Irma had been touring the South extensively on the strength of her first hit. Without a strong new single and feeling she had not been adequately compensated for her first substantial seller, Irma refused to do any more recording for the label. That allowed Minit to come back into the picture, with McKinley convincing Banashak to sign her around 1961. At Minit, Thomas began working under the direction of hot songwriter and producer Toussaint , and cut numerous classic sides with him, putting her on the path to becoming one of the great soul vocalists. But, strangely, those records did not result in much more than local and regional attention for her at the time. When Toussaint left for military service, Liberty Records bought out Irma's contract. She moved to Los Angeles and began recording for Imperial Records, which Liberty had recently acquired. That afforded Irma greater exposure and allowed her to get into the national charts again several times over the next couple of years. After she parted ways with Imperial, Irma had one more modest charter in 1967 while briefly signed with Chess Records; but none of her other singles gave her the boost of "Don't Mess With My Man" at the start of her career. Although she never did any studio work with Bo again after those early Ron singles, her performance at Eddie's memorial service a few weeks ago is evidence of her sense of gratitude to him.

*[Note: Many, if not all, of these red and black label Ron 45s are later pressings released after Joe Ruffino's death by his brother-in-law, Joe Assunto, who ran the One Stop Record Shop. The label for the original issue was yellow and black; and other stock Ron singles of this period had a pink and black label. It seems Assunto continued pressing some of the Ric and Ron popular sellers using the red and black Ron logo for quite some time after 1963. Besides "Don't Mess With My Man", the Mardi Gras favorites, "Carnival Time" by Al Johnson (originally on Ric) and Professor Longhair's "Go To The Mardi Gras" are often found in the red and back version. I would consider them re-issues. In addition, Assunto released unissued Ric recordings by Johnny Adams also using the red and black Ron logo around 1964. Read more about them later in this post. According to the R&B Indies, Assunto sold these post-Ruffino Ron singles exclusively at his store.]

WARREN LEE

It's not always what's on a record that makes it a hit. It's what you got behind a record. You had to have money to get records played then. I didn't have connections and wasn't the kind of guy to sniff a deejay's behind to get mine played. - Warren Lee Taylor to Jeff Hannusch in The Soul of New Orleans

Another artist who started his recording career working with Eddie Bo on the Ron label, Warren Lee Taylor certainly did not ever become a household name, unless maybe your household has an avid New Orleans music collector in it. Although he made good records and wrote much of his material, he had no substantial hits in more than a decade of releases on various small labels. With that frustrating track record, you can see how he acquired the record business wisdom in the above quote. Had Jeff Hannusch not tracked him down within the last ten years and gotten his story, virtually nothing would be known about Mr. Taylor today.

In the late 1950s, as a guitarist and vocalist, Taylor fronted his own band at various clubs around the New Orleans area, and gained a reputation for his impressive showmanship. He knew and was influenced by many of the guitarists playing locally at the time, including Guitar Slim, Earl King and Roy Montrell. While scouting talent for Joe Ruffino, Eddie Bo heard Taylor one night in 1961 at the Dew Drop Inn, and told him that he had record-making potential. Taylor was interested; so Bo arranged a session for him at Cosimo's. Two of the singer's own tunes, "Unemployed" and "The Uh-Huh", became the A and B sides of his first single, released under the name of Warren Lee.



"Unemployed" (W. Taylor)
Warren Lee, Ron 345, 1961
LISTEN

"Unemployed" tells the story of a hapless, out-of-work loser who get thrown in jail and can't even get his wife or mother-in-law to bail him out. Sporting the virtually ubiquitous Popeye shuffle groove of the period, it was a decent cut, but had nothing to really make it stand out, including Lee’s hangdog vocal and Bo’s low-key piano solo. The flip side, was a more upbeat dance number, but again had nothing really memorable going on. Still, the single did well enough locally for a second release to be worked up.

For that next single, Taylor collaborated with Bo and Mac Rebennack to come up with “Anna (Stay With Me)”, an answer record to Arthur Alexander’s hit, “Anna (Go With Him)”. Again credited to Warren Lee, the 45 came out on a new subsidiary label Ruffino had started, Soundex , and garnered Taylor more local attention and better paying gigs, but still did not break out too far beyond the city limits. At that point, his contract with Ron was up; and Bo probably had already left Ruffino's employ, as well. So, Taylor opted to move on to the newly formed Nola label, working with Wardell Quezergue on several singles. Then, in 1965, Allen Toussaint and Marshall Sehorn picked up Warren for their new Sansu production company, releasing his singles on the Deesu, Tou Sea, and Wand labels over the next four years, with the material getting markedly funky once the Meters became the studio band. I featured one of his enjoyable pre-Meters Deesu sides, “Climb the Ladder” in 2005. As far as I can tell, Taylor did not work with Bo again, after his Ron days.

For more details on Warren Lee Taylor's story, including a discography, I recommend Larry Grogan's overview of his career at the Funky 16 Corners webzine; and, of course, Hannusch's profile on the singer in The Soul of New Orleans is essential, as well.

TOMMY RIDGLEY

One of New Orleans' best R&B vocalists, Tommy Ridgley signed on with Joe Ruffino's Ric label shortly after Bo, having been a recording artist for about a decade by that time. In the late 1940s, he won a talent contest at the Dew Drop Inn and soon started singing professionally in local clubs, where he was spotted by Dave Bartholomew, who was scouting talent for the Imperial label. Dave hired Tommy as a featured vocalist in his band and signed him to Imperial, as well. In late 1949, Ridgley and Jewel King, another Bartholomew find, cut their debut records for Imperial, and were the first of many New Orleans artists on the roster of the Los Angeles-based label. Tommy had number of fine records for Imperial over the next few years, with most doing well on the local level; but he did not have a national hit. He also had releases on King and Decca, followed by a brief stint with Atlantic, after Imperial dropped him. All the while, he continued to be a popular local entertainer in the clubs. In 1957, he signed with Herald Records out of New York City, releasing half a dozen singles, with a number of the sides being novelty tunes; but nothing broke big for him there either. Meanwhile, Tommy formed his own band, the Untouchables, who were very successful playing regionally and also backed big name artists who performed in town. When he and Herald parted ways for lack of hits, Joe Ruffino quickly recruited him.

Surely, Eddie Bo and Tommy Ridgley knew each other on the music scene prior to joining Ric; but I don't think they had worked together. From Tommy's comments about Bo's studio smarts quoted in my prior post, it would seem that Eddie produced or arranged a number of sessions for Ridgley's eight singles on the label between 1960 and 1963; but there seems to be nothing definite to be found about which tunes Bo had a hand in. One that Bo would have obviously worked on, it seems to me, was the one he wrote.



"In The Same Old Way" (D. Johnson)
Tommy Ridgley, Ric 984, 1961**
LISTEN

According to Jeff Hannusch, "In The Same Old Way", written under Bo's nome de plume D(elores) Johnson, was Ridgley's most popular record for Ric; and it's easy to understand why, when you listen to it: simple structure; hip, uncomplicated arrangement; memorable melody; nice lyrics; and a vocal performance like butter. The changes are based on the repeated shift from the major chord to its relative minor for most of the song - a common device in in popular music upon which Bo built a quiet, uncomplicated tune that effectively sneaks up and grabs you with its catchy, instant familiarity. In the same old way, indeed. I've always dug this timeless song and feel that it is one of Eddie's best pop songwriting efforts.

The record, Ridgley's fourth on Ric, got a lot of radio play in New Orleans and sold well; but Ruffino refused to lease it to a larger company who could distribute it nationally - those trust and control issues again - and, thus, deprived Tommy of a chance at wider recognition. The flip side, "The Girl From Kooka Monga", a Ridgley-penned novelty number, had the Popeye groove going on, and, as the singer told Hannusch, was inspired by Jessie Hill's "Ooh Poo Pah Doo". For the next single (#990), released early in 1962, Ruffino had Tommy cut a catchy Earl King song, "My Ordinary Girl"; but neither it nor "She's Got What It Takes" on the other side were very successful, with part of the cause likely due to Ruffino's first heart attack, which kept him from promoting the record.

Ridgley's final two singles for Ric, "Heavenly" b/w "I Love You Yes I Do (#993) and "I've Heard that Story Before" b/w "Honest I Do" (#994), were also victims of Ruffino's ill-health subsequent death, which closed down Ric for good by 1963. Likely, only a limited number were ever pressed; and promotion would have been virtually non-existent. It's hard to say if Bo had a hand in either of them; but I doubt it.

During the next few years, Tommy continued performing with his band and worked with Bo again on one-off singles for Cinderella and Bo's own Blue Jay and Ridge-Way imprints; and I'll cover more from Bo's mid-1960s period in the next installment. Although Tommy continued to record sporadically through the 1960s, and later in the 1970s, I don't think he and Eddie Bo ever collaborated in the studio again, either.

**[Note: Due to the noisy pressing quality of my 45, I've substituted the remastered version of this cut from Rounder's Ridgley LP compilation album, The New Orleans King of the Stroll, which featured many of his Ric sides. It's also available on CD and mp3.]

MARTHA CARTER

What little is known about Martha Carter comes via Jeff Hannusch's segment on her in his notes to Rounder's compilation CD, New Orleans Ladies: Rhythm and Blues from the Vaults of Ric and Ron***, which was also reproduced in his book, The Soul of New Orleans. From the city's Ninth Ward, she came into the world as Martha Nelson and grew up singing in church, that great proving ground for so many soul vocalists. In the late 1950s, when just 16, she got the attention of Oliver 'Nookie Boy' Morgan and joined his band. When Bo encountered her a few years later in a nightclub, Carter was still a teenager but singing with the Porgy Jones Band, tackling jazz numbers along with the popular R&B of the day. Impressed, Bo brought her to Ruffino, who immediately signed her to a recording contract in 1960. She sang back-up on Eddie's "Ain't It The Truth Now" (Ric 974) and was soon cutting her own first release. While in the Ruffino fold, she recorded four singles, all under Bo's supervision: three as Martha Carter (her married name), released on Ron, and one on Ric, as Martha Nelson.

Her first Ron single as Martha Carter (#336) from 1960 consisted of two Bo compositions, "Nobody Knows", a fairly straight-ahead pop R&B number, backed by an equally conventional, mid-tempo ballad, "I'm Through Crying", which was the side that got airplay. Though no fresh ground was broken, Carter's vocals showed promise and the single sold well in New Orleans and environs, encouraging Ruffino to green-light more sessions. The radio exposure also created a demand for Carter's live performances; and she frequently shared billing with Bo. For her next release, Ruffino wanted Martha to do an answer record to Joe Jones', "You Talk Too Much", which had recently come out on Ric (#972) and was the label's biggest seller. Jones' 45 would have probably broken big nationally, too; but he had recorded an earlier version of the hit for Roulette, who sued Ruffino once the Ric single started getting attention in other markets, stopping sales and distribution of the 45 for a time. They eventually forced Ruffino to give up the publishing royalties for the song and gained control of his master tape. Badly stung, Ruffino would thereafter deeply distrust dealings with outside companies; and his desire to do an answer record to "You Talk Too Much" hinged on commercial revenge, trying to cut into Roulette's sales and recoup some of his losses. Unfortunately, "I Don't Talk Too Much", which was issued on Ric 975 under Carter's maiden name late in 1960, did not have the intended effect and quickly faded after getting some local airplay and selling only moderately.

Next up, Bo and Carter went back into the studio that spring and cut two outstanding sides for Ron 339 (a hard record to find), "One Man's Woman", written by Bo, and "You Can If You Think You Can", from the pen of Harold Battiste. Despite both songs being strong and highly danceable, the single did not have much commercial impact even locally for Carter; and she did not record again until 1962, when she cut what would be her final single.



"Then I'll Believe" (D. Johnson)
Martha Carter, Ron 346, 1962
LISTEN

For these sessions, Bo took Carter back to church, at least in spirit, with two of his own compositions. Both songs, "You Shall Not Be Moved" and this B-side, were inspired by bedrock gospel music, though the lyrics were thoroughly secularized. The arrangements were minimal; and Carter's vocals were serviceable, but not revelatory. Frankly, I don't think either the writer/arranger or performer were totally committed to this single. In fact, Bo was on the verge of leaving Ruffino's employ in a dispute over royalties due him; and Ruffino had already suffered one heart attack, leaving him unable to properly tend to his companies or artists. Though it's certainly not a bad record, I chose this cut mainly because it's the only Martha Carter 45 I own. If you get the chance, I highly recommend that you get both sides of her previous single to hear her and Bo at their best together. [*** All eight sides from her four releases can be found of the Rounder compilation mentioned above.]

Remarkably, Irma Thomas and Martha Carter were the only female recording artists on Ric or Ron, although a singer named Barbara Palms did one single for Ruffino's Soundex label late in the game. While Martha was no match for Irma, she held her own over the course of a very short recording career with Eddie Bo's assistance. Soon after Ruffino's death, Carter was forced to retire from performing and recording when an operation to remove polyps from her vocal cords failed, leaving her voice permanently impaired.

Meanwhile, even though Bo had already parted ways with the labels before they were effectively shut down after Ruffino's demise, at least one more record he was involved with did get a limited release on Ron.

JOHNNY ADAMS

Certainly one of the finest vocalists ever to come out of the Crescent City, then gospel singer Johnny Adams began his recording career when songwriter Dorothy Labostrie convinced him to take up secular music and sign on with Joe Ruffino's Ric Records in 1959. Mac Rebennack arranged, supervised and sometimes wrote a number of Johnny's releases; and, according to Jeff Hannusch , Eddie Bo was in charge of other sessions over the course nearly a dozen singles Adams made for the label. I assume that Bo would have at least arranged and/or produced the tracks he wrote, as it seems to make sense; but there is no definite documentation to verify exactly who worked on many of those records. In 2007, I featured one of those Bo songs, Johnny's final Ric release, "Tra-La-La"; and you can read about it and Adams' history with Ric via that link.

As he had done with Tommy Ridgley, Ruffino's brother-in-law, Joe Assunto, released two more singles on Adams with material recorded for Ric that had remained unissued due to Ruffino's sudden passing late in 1962. Again, according to the R&B Indies, Assunto sold those records, which had a red and black Ron label but used the Ric numbering sequence, exclusively through his One Stop Record Shop; and the first of them contained another Eddie Bo composition.



"I Want To Do Everything For You" (D. Johnson - J. Ruffino)
Johnny Adams, Ron 995, ca 1964
LISTEN

This single contained the impressively sung waltz-time ballad "Lonely Drifter" on top, backed by our featured track, which had a fairly standard-issue R&B song structure and arrangement, including piano triplets, likely played by Eddie himself. Delivered by another singer, this song wouldn't have had much to offer; but the sheer power and high quality of Adams' phenomenal voice makes for a fine listening experience that brings out the full intent of Bo's devotional lyrics.

Meanwhile, I don't think Bo had anything to do with Adams' other post-Ruffino Ron single (#996), "Coming Round the Mountain" b/w "Cold Cold Heart" (a Hank Williams tune!). Eddie would work with the singer only once more, a single project released on the Gone label in 1964, which we will take up in the next installment. It's really too bad that Eddie and Johhny did not get to do more together over the years, as I think Adams could definitely have taken some of Bo's better material to the heights.
*******
For the next few weeks, I'm going to take a Bo-break to get back to some other music I've wanted to feature for a while now; but I will return to the path of Bo-consciousness and move the discussion and musical selections into the mid-1960s. So, as always, stay tuned. And thanks for sticking around. I appreciate your patience, as I've spent most of my free time for the last month or more in New Orleans at the festivals and also celebrating the graduation of our daughter from college this past weekend!