Kristina Train’s debut album for Blue Note Records, Spilt Milk, acquired its title honestly: As the final recording sessions were about to begin, a once in a lifetime computer glitch occurred during file backup and deleted much of what had already been accomplished. Instead of crying over the proverbial spilt milk, Train went back into the studio and recut the erased material. “I don’t think anything was lost,” Train says, “I don’t think there was one magic moment that we could never recapture. I love what it is today.” There’s no telling now whether anything was lost to technology, but what does remain is the fact that in its final version Spilt Milk is one of my favorite albums of 2009.
Train was born in New York City, but raised by in Savannah, GA by single mother who kept Kristina from television and pop radio. As a result, she listened to a lot of classical music, opera, jazz, and blues, and took music lessons. Her ability to create the timeless music on Spilt Milk is the result of being raised apart from the influence of shifting trends.
There is a line of female singers that runs from Dionne Warwick and Dusty Springfield, through Aretha Franklin, on to Shelby Lynne, and now to Kristina Train. What all of these singers have in common, in addition to their extraordinary voices, is a thorough grounding in southern soul and gospel music, and an unerring ability to convey the emotion inherent in a song. Each of these artists also had the advantage of working with an empathetic producer who brought out the best in them, whether it was Jerry Wexler with Aretha Franklin and Dusty Springfield, Burt Bacharach with Dionne Warwick, or Phil Ramone with Shelby Lynne. Kristina Train has been fortunate enough to ally herself with producer Jimmy Hogarth, who was also responsible for recent efforts from Duffy, Corinne Bailey Rae, and James Blunt. (more…)
Four years ago GRP/Verve released Best of George Benson Live, recorded at a concert the veteran jazz guitarist and singer gave in Belfast, Ireland, in 2000. The set drew mainly from the 1976-’81 period of his career, when he was routinely landing songs in the Billboard pop chart’s top ten (”On Broadway,” “Turn Your Love Around”), winning Grammies in categories like Record of the Year (1976’s “This Masquerade”), and working with Quincy Jones and Rod Temperton while they were in between blockbuster Michael Jackson albums (1980’s Give Me the Night).
Benson makes another conscious nod to that period on Songs and Stories (Concord), his latest studio album. Recently, music journalist Jon Caramanica wrote in the New York Times that “Adult soul, as practiced by Maxwell, K’Jon and others, borrows from classic soul in song structure and is preoccupied with more mature themes relevant to an older audience. Twenty years ago some of these records might have been called ‘quiet storm,’ and nowadays there’s overlap between smooth jazz, gospel and adult-oriented R&B.”
Benson may be a few generations older than current stars like Maxwell, but he’s been blending jazz, R&B, and pop for decades now. In fact Songs and Stories marks his 45th anniversary in the recording business, and along with fellow ’70s hit makers like Bill Withers, his music has helped pave the way for the younger crowd.
I was living in Hong Kong when Cosmic Thing was released on these shores, June 27, 1989, to be exact. I bought a lot of CDs there (and laserdiscs, if anyone still remembers those), but lacked guidance. Britpop was the local flavor of the former Crown Colony’s few critics, and reviews weren’t easy to access from abroad back then, as U.S. magazines like Rolling Stone took two months to cross the Pacific and cost a pretty penny to obtain. I had an undisciplined collection. Thanks to my friends I caught the XTC bug, hard; that was the foundation of my taste for my expat years. Left to my own devices, though, I floundered. Did I really buy Aretha Franklin’s Through the Storm? Yes.
So I was untutored in Cosmic Thing. The B-52’s I knew from “Rock Lobster,” which, if you were of a certain age, you drank warm beer to, then maybe broke out with feebly spasmodic, avant-garde-ish “dance” moves at college as it went on. I didn’t hear the rapture that greeted their fifth album’s release, as I sifted through unsold piles of Millie Jackson’s Back to the Shit and Pia Zadora’s Pia Z. at the maze-like CD and knockoff computer emporium near my office. (Nor, for that matter, did I hear the noise surrounding that month’s Hollywood blockbuster, Batman. It didn’t open in Hong Kong till Chinese New Year, eight months later. But of course I bought the Prince songtrack right away—you know, the one the guys in Shaun of the Dead throw at a zombie to pierce its skull, after rejecting other, better Prince albums as projectiles.) (more…)
Welcome to the second installment of an ongoing series celebrating songs that fell excruciatingly short of ascending to the top of Billboard’s pop singles chart. In the course of compiling and monitoring responses to the series’ first column a couple weeks ago, I learned a number of things, the most important of which were:
1. Unbeknownst to me as I wrote about the #2 hits of the ’50s – and in the process wrote the snappy sentence, “You don’t see Fred Bronson compiling five editions of The Billboard Book of #2 Hits, do you?” – it turns out that a Billboard Book of Number 2 Hits was indeed published in 2000. I have chosen to invoke the Pelosi defense: I was misled by the book’s obscurity into thinking it didn’t exist. My case is bolstered by the facts that Bronson had nothing to do with it (some fella named Christopher Feldman wrote it), and that the book went out of print without ever reaching a second edition. So, ha! You may read much of it on Google Books or buy a copy at Amazon Marketplace, or you may purchase a digital copy for the Amazon Kindle. (Don’t everybody run out all at once to blow $359 on a Kindle.) Needless to say, I didn’t use Feldman’s book as a reference in the first column; I make no such promises from here on out.
2. As I slog through six decades’ worth of fodder for future editions of this column, I’m going to have to dig deep for euphemisms that put some pizzazz behind the idea of a song being kept out of the #1 slot by another song. I believe that my low point in the last column came in the teaser for this one, when I left the distinct impression that Smokey Robinson might once have been “cock-blocked” by Lawrence Welk (see #4 below). Whoever the object of Smokey’s thwarted affections might have been in such a scenario, I am now convinced that at no time was Welk ever involved in blocking Smokey’s cock, and I apologize for the inference.
As a reminder, we’re giving extra weight to hits by artists who never reached #1, to songs that were far superior to the rivals that overtook them on the charts, and to plain old great songs that deserved the extra glory that the top of the Hot 100 brings. I’ll follow my choices with a list of other #2 hits of the decade, and we can debate their merits in the comments section. Now, on with the countdown!
11. “She’s Not There,” the Zombies. Keyboardist/songwriter Rod Argent made the Top 10 four times between 1964 and ’72 – three as leader of the Zombies, before he got greedy and named his next band after himself. Colin Blumstone sang lead for the Zombies, and just as his vocals offered more nuance than most of his early-British Invasion counterparts, “She’s Not There” was an awfully sophisticated single for an era when even the Beatles were still cranking out “I Feel Fine” and “Eight Days a Week.” Sadly, “She’s Not There” was left knocking on #1’s door while Bobby Vinton came through the window with “Mr. Lonely.” Even more annoying, Vinton’s hit version used the exact same backing track as Buddy Greco’s #64 smash of two years before! That’s just not right. (more…)
Happy Friday, everyone, and welcome back to CHART ATTACK! This is a pretty solid, diverse week on the charts: six out of our ten artists are black, and the other four are, like, the whitest artists in the world. They’re all a part of April 22, 1972!
10. Doctor My Eyes — Jackson BrowneAmazoniTunes 9. A Cowboy’s Work is Never Done — Sonny & CherAmazoniTunes 8. Heart of Gold — Neil YoungAmazoniTunes 7. Day Dreaming — Aretha FranklinAmazoniTunes 6. Betcha By Golly, Wow — The StylisticsAmazoniTunes 5. In the Rain — The DramaticsAmazoniTunes 4. A Horse With No Name — AmericaAmazoniTunes 3. I Gotcha — Joe TexAmazoniTunes 2. Rockin’ Robin — Michael JacksonAmazoniTunes 1. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face — Roberta FlackAmazoniTunes
10. Doctor My Eyes — Jackson Browne
I’ve never really paid much attention to Jackson Browne, but I really, really like this song. I love the piano with the stuck key at the beginning. I love David Crosby’s backing vocals (and I didn’t know until now that Nash was on there as well). I love the percussion, and I love the guitar work. And of course I love the bass playing — it’s frickin’ Lee Sklar! Who doesn’t love Lee Sklar?
This was Browne’s debut single from his debut album, and his only entry in the Top 10 until 1982’s “Somebody’s Baby” (which was his last). The song was covered — and this totally baffles me — by the Jackson 5 almost instantly, appearing on their 1972 album Lookin’ Through the Windows. The “baby, baby” opening kind of sucks, but Michael sounds great.
Let me just play you something. Here’s the opening of “A Cowboy’s Work is Never Done.”
Got it? Okay, now listen to this.
Am I crazy?
Peaking at #8, this incredibly stupid song was (thankfully) the last Top 10 hit for Sonny & Cher. And you know what sucks more than this song? This song’s video. Watch Sonny Bono play air guitar. It’s terrible.
8. Heart of Gold — Neil Young
Neil Young has only had one #1 single in his career. This is it. And it’s his only song to crack the Top 30 as well. I think it’s safe to say that Neil Young is a failure. I’m sure he’d agree.
Hi, everybody! This week’s CHART ATTACK! takes us back a whopping 22 years, and wow, do I feel old, considering I remember hearing just about every single one of these songs on the radio when they first came out. The songs this week aren’t that bad, actually, but as you’ll soon see, almost all of them are linked together in…well…just about the worst way possible. Stay tuned as we review the Top 10 from April 11, 1987!
“The Finer Things” is just one of the many collaborations between Winwood and his writing partner for most of the ’80s, Will Jennings. Jennings co-wrote almost all of Winwood’s hits, including “While You See a Chance,” which clearly inspired the opening of this song — all synths, baby! I’m usually anti-synth, but if it’s Steve Winwood, I’m okay with it. “The Finer Things” was the second biggest hit from Back in the High Life, peaking at #8.
Jennings, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, is quite the accomplished songwriter: in addition to his work with Winwood, he wrote/co-wrote songs such as “Tears in Heaven,” “Up Where We Belong” and “My Heart Will Go On.” There’s a nice interview with him over at Songfacts.
I had no idea I had ever heard this song before until I reached the chorus, although to be fair, it’s not like I can really remember the verses of “Everybody Have Fun Tonight,” either. While this song did make it to the Top 10 (peaking here at #9), it wasn’t a strong enough hit to make the overall Hot 100 for 1987. I do like this mention of the song over at Wikipedia, though (emphasis mine): “The single was a hit for Wang Chung in the United States, and it provided the band with their second (and so far, last) top-10 hit.” Isn’t that cute? Who knows, everybody — Wang Chung may be making a comeback! Simple Minds, you’re on deck!
Not much to say about “Let’s Go!” — It follows the same format as their previous hit: stupid lyrics, catchy chorus. But, uh, hey: if you liked Kids Incorporated, this should be a happy day for you. They covered it!
8. Midnight Blue — Lou Gramm
I remember what my father said. He said, “Son, life is simple. It’s either cherry red, or midnight blue.”
What the hell does that mean? Is that really the best advice you got from your father? ‘Cause that’s shitty advice. Really shitty advice. It’s just unhelpful. Is there some double entendre I’m missing here?
I love soul music in each and every one of its glorious permutations, so it’s been gratifying for me to listen as a new generation of soul masters has taken the spotlight in the last few years. For me it seemed to start with that first Joss Stone album, but then she seemed to lose the thread as she moved forward. Into her place stepped artists like Sharon Jones, Ryan Shaw, and Eli “Paperboy” Reed, among others. Meanwhile, the great Al Green kept the fire burning, and Raphael Saadiq provided a new soundtrack for the soul revolution. For years I feared that soul music as I knew it was dead, only to have it come roaring back to life.
Let’s define terms. Soul music doesn’t employ auto-tuned vocals, electronic beats, or sampled music. It’s played by real singers backed by live bands. It’s not hip-hop, it’s not rap, and it’s not rock. It’s not black, and it’s not white. It’s whatever it is that Marvin Gaye, or the Temptations, or Otis Redding had, and Aretha Franklin still has.
Imagine someone gave you the opportunity to create the ultimate soul band. First, you’d get a great singer like Tre Williams, a guy who will remind you of David Ruffin without remotely copping his style. It’s something about that gravel in the throat. Then you have to be sure to have a great songwriter and backup singer like Rell to write the songs and sing them with Williams. Of course you’d need a band, and you’d get someone like Wes Mingus on guitar, and keyboard player Borahm Lee. You’re going to need a great rhythm section, and bassist Josh Werner, and drummer Gintas Janusonis fill that bill.
So now that you’ve got your singers, and you’ve got your band, what’s it going to sound like? Well suppose you could create an amalgam of Motown propulsion, the rawness of Stax, and just a touch of the balladry magic of Gamble and Huff’s Philadelphia International sound? That would be the ultimate, wouldn’t it?
The results of this brew, the seven-track Deep Soul ep, is just about as perfect as it gets. When it’s over you want more, even as you’re astonished by just how right the Revelations got it. But since you don’t want it to end, they give it to you, in the form of instrumental versions of the seven tracks. Think that’s redundant and you don’t need to hear them? Just wait.
While this ep will remind you of another era, there’s nothing retro about it. This is forward looking contemporary music. The Brooklyn-based Revelations featuring Tre Williams have created something rare that needs to be nurtured so that it can thrive. Tell everyone you know – this is a new soul classic for our time.
This week you get another extended post so we can finish up the letter F nice and clean. Without further ado, I give you the final batch of artists whose names begin with the sixth letter of the alphabet and who reached the ass end of the Billboard Hot 100 in the ’80s.
Fortune is an AOR band formed in Los Angeles in 1977. They released their debut self-titled record in ‘78, had a track called “Airwaves” on the Last American Virgin soundtrack in ‘82, then finally got around to their second album (also self-titled) in ‘85. “Stacy” comes from the second album, which includes a whole mess of generic light-rock tunes.
David Foster
“The Best of Me” — 1986, #80 (download)
“Winter Games” — 1988, #85 (download)
There’s just no way I have it in me to discuss the shittiness of Foster’s duet with Olivia Newton-John, “The Best of Me,” or Foster in general, when Terje Fjelde lives and breathes the guy — read Into the Ear of Madness while listening to these tracks.
4 by Four
“Want You for My Girlfriend” — 1987, #79 (download)
My first thought was 4 by Four simply wanted to be the next New Edition: good-looking kids with slick pop-filled R&B hooks. But I listen to this song and hear a lot of Prince in it as well. Zero in on the 2:20 mark and I swear you’ll hear the first bar of Prince’s “Controversy.”
Mainstream Rock: Eric Clapton, “Pretending” (1989)
Will: I’ve always felt like this song was the point where Clapton finally began to escape from the “we need a pop song as the first single” era and entered the “do whatever you want, you’re too old for MTV anyway” era. It’s much more like the classic Clapton sound of the ’70s, and I always enjoy hearing it.
Py Korry: Although I heard Clapton’s music on the radio when I was but a lad, I really didn’t start to actively listen to him until the mid-’80s, when I had some cash to buy albums. Unfortunately, I started with an album that wasn’t all that great —Money and Cigarettes— and wondered what all the hubbub was about.
Clapton’s output in the ’80s was, to me, really unremarkable. And I’m basing that on what was played on the radio and not some buried gem on this or that album. “Pretending” is a good example of Slowhand going through the motions, and if it wasn’t for the horn punches in the song it wouldn’t have had enough ear candy to be a single. But let me bracket all that for a moment and say this: I’d listen to “Pretending” over and over for days if it meant I would never have to listen to “Change the World” or “My Father’s Eyes” again.
Zack: Tell me truthfully: if you didn’t know this was Clapton, wouldn’t you associate the first 20 seconds of “Pretending” with the start of an “action sequence” in a late-night Cinemax movie? (more…)
Kristina Train’s debut album for Blue Note Records, Spilt Milk, acquired its title honestly: As the final recording sessions were about to begin, a once in a lifetime computer glitch occurred during file backup and deleted much of what had already been accomplished. Instead of crying over the proverbial spilt milk, Train went back into the studio and recut the erased material. “I don’t think anything was lost,” Train says, “I don’t think there was one magic moment that we could never recapture. I love what it is today.” There’s no telling now whether anything was lost to technology, but what does remain is the fact that in its final version Spilt Milk is one of my favorite albums of 2009.
Four years ago GRP/Verve released Best of George Benson Live, recorded at a concert the veteran jazz guitarist and singer gave in Belfast, Ireland, in 2000. The set drew mainly from the 1976-’81 period of his career, when he was routinely landing songs in the Billboard pop chart’s top ten (”On Broadway,” “Turn Your Love Around”), winning Grammies in categories like Record of the Year (1976’s “This Masquerade”), and working with Quincy Jones and Rod Temperton while they were in between blockbuster Michael Jackson albums (1980’s Give Me the Night).
11. 
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=0633f239-a0c0-4605-b275-4668bf785109)
