In the comment section of last week’s White Label Wednesday column on ABC, Ted lamented that I didn’t beat mix the songs together. Today, he gets his wish.
I made roughly 15 to 20 beat mixes during my time as a DJ in college (1987-1991). I didn’t own any gear, so I either made the mixes after hours at the clubs where I worked or I used the gear of a fellow DJ friend, who was brave enough to have his gear in his dorm room. Since the mixes were all recorded on cassette, very few have made the jump to the digital realm. Easy CD Creator had an add-on earlier in the decade that enabled people to input analog sources into their computer, and it would record the tracks and break them down. The program was clearly designed for vinyl, thinking that it would create a new file whenever a song ended or faded out. With beat mixes, this was a little more complicated, since the idea is for there to never be a break. I’d end up with one 12-minute file, and then 15 ten-second files. I would then take this .wav file editor and put the songs back together. Wheee.
The worst thing about uploading the tapes was that the digital recording was really quiet, so I would have to amplify the tracks exponentially, which of course amplified the tape hiss as well. You don’t really hear it when things are jumping, but when a song got quiet…whoooooosh! I should just break down and get one of those USB turntables that can convert vinyl and cassettes, but there is just one problem: I have no money, and with two kids, no time. So most of my tapes are still tapes. (more…)
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I will not pretend to have a vast knowledge of either Quincy Jones or the Brothers Johnson. To me, Jones was the guy that produced Michael Jackson and occasionally mined Mellow Gold (am I the only one for whom Jones’ song “Just Once” and the movie “The Last American Virgin” are inseparably linked?), and, well, I had never heard of the Brothers Johnson until Jones covered them. I finally went back to hear the original version at Lord Jefito’s behest, and couldn’t believe how deliberate it was. It has a fantastic melody, but has no business slumming in the slow jam commuter lane. Jones’ version rectifies this. Recruiting Ray Charles and Chaka Khan to sing lead was gravy.
At the risk of sounding insensitive, it all comes down to one simple thing: Romeo Void’s lead singer Debora Iyall was a girl. A big, big girl. And that is simply not allowed these days. It doesn’t really matter that Iyall had attitude to spare and one of the most unique voices of her time, a smoky alto that could handle snotty new wave and torch songs with equal aplomb. (I’ve never actually heard Iyall sing torch songs, but if she did, I just know they’d sound awesome.) Nope, today’s record execs would toss the band’s press kit in the trash the second they saw that full frame. Say this for the ’80s: a lot of bands may have gotten a contract because of their flashy looks, but the labels were still willing to let a band’s music do the talking in the event that they didn’t have pinup looks. Who knows, maybe nostalgia is clouding my judgment on this. Wouldn’t be the first time.
The rational part of my brain knows that this a ‘pieces parts’ kind of song. The rhythm track and bass line are a near note-for-note ripoff of Janet Jackson’s “What Have You Done for Me Lately,” which stormed the charts nine months earlier. Chico’s vocals are wafer-thin, and while it’s tempting say that this would explain why he was never allowed to be in the band that bears his name, that would be giving his older siblings far too much credit. Lastly, sweet Jesus, look at that cover. Hideous ’80s hair, and an equally hideous, midriff-baring outfit to go with it. What they didn’t steal to make this song, they took from a dumpster and assembled with duct tape and discarded wallpaper.