funk

Album of the Week: Ana Mazzotti’s Ninguém Vai Me Segurar (1974)

February 6, 2023 — Leave a comment

Brazil in the 60s/70s was, among other things, fertile ground for amazing music. Ana Mazzotti began playing accordion at age 5, before moving to keys and forming a Beatles cover band while still in school. A move from Brazil’s southernmost state of Rio Grande do Sul to the more populated São Paulo found her introduced to Rio de Janeiro’s Azymuth, the fusion/funk band that would play a key role in her music. By 1974, Azymuth keyboardist José Roberto Bertrami was already something of a session wizard, having played with luminaries such as Tim Maia and Marcos Valle. When Mazzotti recorded this, her first album, Bertrami and the Azymuth crew were her backing band.

Ninguém Vai Me Segurar translates to “Nobody will hold me”, which is probably a statement of loneliness but which I prefer to liken to Rick Ross’s refusal to be stopped. Mazzotti’s confident vocals and great songs are only the first layer of the music. Bertrami’s contributions are massive: these synths are FUNKY. “Roda Mundo” features some synth-spazzing that rivals Chick Corea and “Eu Sou Mais Eu” has a particularly funky bounce to it.

I think I discovered this record via “Feel Like Makin’ Love”, a cover of the Roberta Flack song (written by Eugene McDaniels) that served as the title track to the first AOTY I ever posted on this blog. Mazzotti’s version is sampled on Isaiah Rashad’s “Cilvia Demo”, and matches the mellow of Flack’s take. We get a sort of Syreeta vibe on “Acalanto” with its sleepy Sunday atmosphere and Stevie-like synths.

Ana Mazzotti followed Ninguém with a self-titled album in 1977, but unfortunately neither were very commercially successful. Little is known (at least to me) about her last 10-or-so years, and she passed away from cancer early in 1988. Thanks to a 2019 reissue on Far Out Recordings, more is known about Ninguém and it is easy to find and stream, which is fantastic as this album is an absolute delight.

Listen to Ninguém Vai Me Segurar here.

Album of the Week: Bloodstone s/t (1972)

October 24, 2022 — Leave a comment

Bloodstone started in Kansas City in the early 60s as a junior high singing quartet started by Harry Williams, which became The Sinceres. While The Sinceres they never released an album, you can find their excellent single “Don’t Waste My Time” on Spotify. Moving to LA as Bloodstone, they recorded and released this excellent debut for Decca.

Bloodstone is a tight mix of classic 60s R&B and dirty 70s funk. I love the electric guitar on this record. While opener “Sadie Mae” is not necessarily a killer song, the band makes up for it with their ripping guitars. The centerpiece here is the lone cover song, “Little Green Apples”, written by Bobby Russell and performed by several artists including O.C. Smith, who hit #2 on Billboard with his version. Whereas Smith’s version was about 4 minutes, Bloodstone kick it into epic territory with a 9 minute take. The pre-chorus (“If that’s not lovin’ me…”) is magically drawn out, and the falsetto backing vocals make the track. This is a killer soul deep cut.

The B-side starts with “This Thing is Heavy”, an outsider’s take on the bourgeoning world of recreational drug use (“What’s this thing, people talkin’ bout ‘let’s get high’?”) “Lady of the Night” is a funky rave-up with some excellent rhythm guitar. Next to “Little Green Apples”, closer “Dumb Dude” might be my favorite track here. It starts out as an almost dirge, with Bloodstone’s vocal-group roots showing in vocal harmonies. Then the track finds a more upbeat groove in its final 2 minutes, with a killer guitar tone. Wonderful ending to a tight album.

Bloodstone would go on to record their biggest hit as the title track of their sophomore record, Natural High. Somewhat oddly, the entire B-side of Bloodstone was released on the CD (and now streaming) version of their third LP, Unreal, which is also a winner. But for a place to start, Bloodstone comes with my high recommendation.

Listen to Bloodstone here.

Album of the Week: James Brown’s There It Is (1972)

January 10, 2022 — Leave a comment

The Godfather of Soul has an overwhelmingly huge discography, and I’ve heard relatively few of his studio albums, live albums or compilations. The guy basically invented funk music, and many fans point to records like Sex Machine and The Payback as essential collections of his energetic funk mastery.

There It Is is a bit different. It contains some tracks that are outside the sound of James Brown’s typical oeuvre. “King Heroin” is amazingly surreal: over a laconic groove, Brown describes a dream about a “strange weird object” talking to people. Turns out it’s heroin, and Brown (as the anthropomorphic heroin) recites the dangers of the deadly drug. This one must be heard to be believed! Ultimately, James Brown’s anti-drug PSAs feel hypocritical, as he would go on to abuse PCP and other drugs for years. “Public Enemy #1” follows the example of “King Heroin”, but packs less of a punch.

There are a few classic funk cuts here, most notably “Talkin’ Loud and Saying Nothin'”, “I’m a Greedy Man” and the title track. “Who Am I” is a rare James Brown ballad, and his voice isn’t exactly tailor-made for the style. Nevertheless, I like it. The closer “Never Can Say Goodbye” has a laid-back beat similar to “King Heroin”, but there’s no proselytizing on this song. It’s a nice way to end a strong outing from the prolific James Brown.

Listen to There It Is here.

Album of the Week: The Gap Band’s Gap Band IV (1982)

December 13, 2021 — Leave a comment

Elementary school gym class, 2003. It’s a beautiful day in suburban Pennsylvania, and I’m ridin’ dirty:

The scooter board experience was fun even for a chubster like myself. At least until you sat too far back and the thing flipped upwards in front of you and you landed on your ass. Or you had to race 30 other kids and got some shoes in your face or whatever. I liked the free time to just glide around the gymnasium floor like a roomba. And on these days, there’s one song I remember the gym teachers blasting over the speakers repeatedly: The Gap Band’s “You Dropped a Bomb on Me”.

Maybe not the most appropriate track given the “you turn me on” line, but damn if I didn’t love this one as a kid. The synth tone is too funky, and of course what makes it is that cartoonish bomb-dropping sound effect. Fucking sick. And it’s just as electrifying today.

“You Dropped a Bomb on Me” is probably The Gap Band’s biggest hit in terms of chart position, but Gap Band IV also features “Outstanding”. This one is a proven smash at any party, and younger listeners might recognize the melody from Tyler the Creator’s “911”.

I have yet to listen to a lot of Gap Band albums, but I can tell you that this is one of those records where every song is good. I love “Early in the Morning”: it begins with a rooster cawing and an ominous synth tone, before the piano shines some sun on the track. It’s an upbeat jam that’s as good as any to start your day to. Charlie Wilson would reuse the “I was young and foolish…” bridge 23 years later on Snoop Dogg’s “Signs” (another classic from my childhood). “Season’s No Reason to Change” has a Stevie Wonder vibe to it, while “Lonely Like Me” is conceptually similar to “Call Me Maybe”: hey, I just met you, but maybe we have something in common!

“Talkin’ Back” is such a clear P-Funk track that it almost feels like George Clinton should receive royalties. This wasn’t totally new for The Gap Band (see 1980’s “Humpin'”), but it’s the only track on IV that fits the description. Nevertheless, it’s so good that it doesn’t really matter. As a closer it makes it clear that The Gap Band’s party is just getting started, and indeed they would keep releasing numbered albums up through 1987’s Gap Band 8 (their… 11th album?). I’ll have to get back to you on the rest of those records, but IV is a funky 80s gem.

Listen to Gap Band IV here.