Larry Hamilton: On Record (And In Parenthesis)

This week I'm back with more sessions from Malaco Studios in Jackson, MS, where, during the early 1970s, Wardell Quezergue produced/arranged many records for hand-picked New Orleans vocal talent such as King Floyd, Jean Knight, the Barons Ltd, and the artists featured today. The more I explore the music from that period and place, especially the earlier sides, the more I get a sense of the soulful, funky little assembly line Quezergue had going. With songs written primarily by his New Orleans team, sometimes known as Pelican Productions, he would create hooky, rhythmic arrangements (usually starting with just a tuning fork!) and work with the locally recruited singers to perfect their presentation. Then the material was ready for final assembly and polishing at Malaco, where Big Q would thoroughly teach the in-house studio band the arrangements and record the rhythm tracks, before finally inserting the well-rehearsed vocals. One thing's for sure, he saved a lot on money on studio time with that efficiency.

Today's segment of my ongoing saga about the music from the Malaco/New Orleans nexus focuses on one of the songwriters who Quezergue used, Larry Hamilton. Also an impressive vocalist, he got an early start, joining the locally popular late 1960s soul-funk outfit, David Batiste and the Gladiators, as lead singer while still in high school. Unfortunately he wasn't singing on their only known 45, the legendary "Funky Soul", which was primarily an instrumental. While he was working with Quezergue during the early 1970s, for some reason I really don't comprehend, Hamilton only got to record two singles under his own name: Pelican 1233 and two funky sides on the decidedly obscure Ham 101 ("My Mind Keeps Playing Tricks On Me" b/w "Ain't Nothing Like That Funky Music"). He did not record again, as far as I know, until Allen Toussaint chose him to be one of the artists on the roster of NYNO Records in the late 1990s. Hamilton's enjoyable eponymous CD for the label was produced by Toussaint, full of fine musical accompaniment, and featured songs from the pens of both men.

Around the age of 20, Hamilton wrote or co-wrote a number of songs that were recorded by some of the impressive artists that Quezergue was working with at Malaco, Irma Thomas ("She's Taken My Part"), Jean Knight ("Save The Lat Kiss For Me"), and, of course, two other vocalists featured today, Johnny Adams and King Floyd. Later in the 1970s, Albert King also recorded Hamilton's slow cooking lift of B. B. King's "The Thrill Is Gone" called "The Feeling" on his Toussaint-produced New Orleans Heat LP; and there is an Etta James track out there somewhere ("Get On Your Job", anybody know of it?) with his name attached.

Take a listen and find out a little more about Larry Hamilton both as a featured artist on one label and as one of the credited writers on a couple of others.


Hole photo by Rick Olivier

"Gossip" (Michael A. Adams, Albert Savoy, Larry Hamilton)
Larry Hamliton. Pelican 1233, ca 1971
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Though it starts with some gimmicky, unnecessary chipmunkish chattering, "Gossip" is not a trivial novelty number. Its writing, arrangement and performance are top-notch; and the side offers another shining example Quezergue's production style. Unlike looser funk grooves, the inherently structural, poly-rhythmic parts he established in this arrangement can seem almost mechanical and unnatural, if you think too much about it (guilty!); but, taken as a whole, the groove gives up a uniquely fascinating herky-jerk syncopation that immediately engages the backside as if a switch had been flipped.

Many of you are familiar with another funk song named "Gossip", written by the Meters' Leo Nocentelli and recorded in 1970 by the band, backing Cyril Neville on his first solo outing. Hamilton was likely aware of it and inspired by at least the subject matter to write his own "Gossip". Although the Meters' funk groove wins hands down by comparison, I frankly think the Hamilton/Quezergue/Malaco collaboration is probably the better song overall. The lyrics are much more substantial. Hamilton's delivery is certainly more soulfully nuanced than Neville's 'just let it rip' delivery. And his song has a better, multi-part structure that Quezergue highlights with his dynamic arrangement, as opposed to Nocentelli's linear groovefest. Nothing wrong with either of them. They just are two totally different approaches.

One of the dangers of the assembly line production approach to popular music is that, if you aren't very careful, you can fall back on using standardized parts that end up giving your product a sound too similar to the others, too self-referential; and you lose your competitive edge. There have always been blatant record company attempts at copy-cat songs, trying to rehash a hit. It's the "they bought it the first time - maybe they'll buy it again" school of turning a quick buck and taking the easy way out, which obviously worked enough of the time to keep them trying. I bring this up because Hamilton's "Keep The News To Yourself", the b-side of "Gossip" fell into this trap, with the bass line and general arrangement resembling a slightly sped up version of King Floyd's "Groove Me", which was the first big success of Quezergue and the Malaco Groove Assembly Plant that same year. While it was well-played and performed, "Keep The News To Yourself" really had nothing fresh to offer either lyrically or musically. Plus that side is noisier -so I didn't include it.

You'll note that Hamilton's co-writer here is credited as Elijah Walker, who often got producer credits on Quezergue's various Malaco records of the period, as well. Walker was a rather shady-dealing business/money man in partnership with the Big Q, backing his recording projects. Typically, such an operative often got reimbursement in the form of some percentage of profits and/or producer fees and songwriting credits, though he did not actually perform those functions. If you were a writer who wanted to get your song placed, you would likely be expected to give up a piece of your potential royalites to somebody for the priviledge. Such was/is the way of the record business



"Let Us Be" (Larry Hamilton & Elijah Walker)
King Floyd, Chimneyville 439, 1971
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Chimneyville was Malaco's house label, which had released King Floyd 's "Groove Me" as its first single after both Stax and Atlantic Records had turned the song down. Of course, fairly soon after it came out, "Groove Me" shot up to #1 on the R&B charts late in 1970, followed quickly to #5 by the similar sounding "Baby Let Me Kiss You", early in 1971. Suddenly, Atlantic snapped to attention and gave Chimneyville a distribution deal and issued an LP, King Floyd, on their Cotillion label, which had as it's second cut on Side One "Let Us Be", written by Larry Hamilton (with Elijah Walker again getting his cut - see above). That summer, the song (shortened by about a minute from the album version) was released on Floyd's third Chimneyville 45 with "Got To Have Your Lovin'" (by Joe Broussard and Michael Adams), which was much more of a funk powerhouse and got some brief airplay and chart action.

Though it was pretty much a b-side and an album cut, I think "Let Us Be" is one of Hamilton's better songwriting efforts of his early period. It's right in Floyd's limited vocal wheelhouse (he wasn't much of a power-hitter), giving him a decent melody to hang onto over some interesting changes, and an uncomplicated chorus. Meanwhile, Quezergue's arrangement offered a mid-tempo groove with a smoother, more subtle funk, propelled by the pumping bass, kick drum change-ups, and syncopated sticking on the turnarounds. As always, his horn charts are choice, too. By not falling back on any of those standard assembly line parts and same old grooves, Hamilton and Big Q helped Floyd make one of his more distinctive records that put his sound midway between Memphis soul and New Orleans funk, appropriately recorded in a city located almost exactly between the two cities.

Players on the King Floyd album were identified as the Chimneyville Express Rhythm Section (a name that did not stick) and consisted of Jerry Puckett, guitar; Wardell Quezergue, piano & organ; Vernie Robbins, bass; and James Stroud, drums & percussion. The horns, the Chimneyville Brass, were Ed Butler, Hugh Garraway, Rick Thorley, Lee Komegay, Eddie Williams, Charles Wicker, and Perry Lomax. Background voices ("the Chimneyvillettes"?) were Jackie Dorsey, Annie Bass, and Katherine Dalvit.

The only other song of Hamilton's Floyd cut, "I Feel Like Dynamite" (co-written with Albert Savoy), from 1974 on Chimneyville 10202, revisited the more linear funk of his first two hits. And, while the playing was spot on, the pieces well put together, and the vocal engaging, it still feels more like a funky holding pattern than a progression.



"More Than One Way" (L. Hamilton - E. Walker)
Johnny Adams, Atlantic 2834, 1971
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Back to the assembly line. But what a grooving factory job. "More than One Way" is pretty much boilerplate grooving from Big Q, the main assembler, calculated by Hamilton and his boss to ride the "Groove Me" slipstream to Hitsville. Of course, such was not the case; and we again point to the drawbacks of Plan A - too much similarity can breed, if not contempt, indifference in the marketplace. Then again, I am not sure if Atlantic did very much to market and push this release around the country. Probably not. Remember, if you will, that they had also passed on Jean Knight's "Mr. Big Stuff", cut at the same session as "Groove Me". Knight's single languished for a year before Stax picked it up and hit paydirt. For some reason, as Rob Bowman tells the story in the notes to The Last Soul Company, Jerry Wexler did not dig Quezergue's productions, which admittedly were somewhat out of the ordinary. He took on "Groove Me" only after it was a certified smash, made some money on distribution and the LP, and let the rest of the Malaco's New Orleans acts slide.

Though boilerplate it may be, I dig this tune, which is certainly greatly enhanced by the vocal prowess of the great Johnny Adams, testifying to Hamilton's clever, truthful lyrics. Adams' singing seem so effortless, with such a natural purity to his tone. No melody to speak of? No problema for Senor Johnny. He could get a lot of use out of just a few notes, work 'em, bend and stretch 'em, goose 'em on up into the best damn little run you've ever heard sung over and over for almost three minutes. In the course of his long career, Mr. Adams excelled at interpreting soul, the deeper the better, and sophisticated, jazzy blues. But, it's always a pleasure to hear him get hold of some funk - you don't often hear a voice of his caliber doing it. That's why, despite the abysmal commercial results, Hamilton and Quezergue still lucked up with this one. Johnny Adams took it higher.