A long pot

I can often be found bouncing around tInternet like a cue ball that’s been given a good tonking by Ronnie O’Sullivan. This week, as I careered from cushion to cushion (or should that be url to url) desperately trying to work out where the side should be taking me, I bumped into a couple of references to the Pockets “Come Go With Me”. Seems this is getting some fresh action on the Modern scene, here in the UK at least, and it’s in demand - watch it go and all that.

Some of us remember when this was a new release. As you can see from the label scan that was, again in the UK at least, late in 1977. Verdine White and Kalimba Productions in the credits give it away that Earth, Wind & Fire had a lot to do with this single, and the Pockets first two LPs. They hailed from Baltimore and lasted, in recorded form at least, a mere three years and three albums.

Why did I write on my labels then? I must have been mad! I can come up with reasons, but they sound pretty lame.

Along with three school friends we ran a mobile disco and we used to pool our records, hence my name on the label. But they were friends of mine - didn’t I trust them?

Then there is the word “fades”. I guess that was me trying to be a DJ, but hell, most records fade. Why didn’t I just accept “fade” was a default and write “sudden” or “stop” on those that had that particular type of ending that all DJs, back then, hated. Thankfully my penchant for writing on labels didn’t last long, I graduated to writing similar information on sticky labels (peelable, thankfully), and then eventually gave up the whole stupid habit altogether.

As for the date that was the anorak in me coming out, but at least that now serves some purpose and tells me the exact date I bought the record, and I kind of like knowing that. Of course my memory would have put it a bit earlier, in the summer. But that’s a common trick of the memory – the sun is always shining in fond memories, and if the sun is shining it must be summer.

I do remember clearly where I first heard this record, prompting me to buy it. It was on Robbie Vincent’s Radio London Saturday soul show. I should qualify that statement. I clearly remember it, as opposed to clearly hearing it, but it must have been a clear day when I heard it. This was of course before the Internet and DAB radio had been invented, even FM hadn’t been around that long. Robbie Vincent’s show was broadcast on good old MW/AM and Radio London’s broadcast catchment area was, well, London only I guess. Nevertheless, I was listening to Robbie’s show some 120 miles west of London so hearing it all was something of a feat. I couldn’t pick it up every week but with good weather and a following wind sometimes I would be lucky and the show would come through, just. Returning to my dodgy snooker metaphors - rather like that elusive long pot into the corner pocket (ouch!).

Pockets – Come Go With Me 1977

You can buy Pockets "Golden Classics" here

Pure class

It’s been a busy week – Mum needed to spend a few days in hospital so we have been looking after my Dad. Mum’s back at home now, and frankly looks like she has spent a few days in a health farm. Dad discovered the delights of my new DAB radio, particularly the theJazz station which plays a great selection of Jazz, and I think he will be investing in a DAB radio as well now.

This has meant there has been little time to consider, let alone compose, a Feel It post. At times like this you need to turn to someone you can rely on.

Ann Peebles fits the bill. Here are two tracks from a true queen of soul. The tracks are sweet and feisty in equal measure. Ann sounds sweet and pure on “Until You Came Into My Life”. This was penned with husband Don Bryant and released in 1974, the year they married. Clearly the song is a very personal statement. “I’m Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down” was released two years earlier and will be familiar to all you soul aficionados. Is there a better example of Willie Mitchell’s classic Hi sound?




Ann Peebles – Until You Came Into My Life 1974

Ann Peebles – I’m Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down 1972

Both tracks can be found on "The Hi Singles As and Bs".

Where VG = Perfection

In recent weeks I have found my Internet browsing habits have altered somewhat. e-digging for vinyl and any titbit of information related to the soul music genre has been a well established passion bordering on addiction for some time. But recently I’ve found myself spending more and more time searching for pictures of automobiles – yes, I admit it, I am developing an unhealthy interest in downloading horn! And not any old horn, because the pictures I am looking for specifically are those of abandoned and derelict automobiles. You would be forgiven for thinking that’s more than unhealthy it’s dangerously close to being a perversion!

This interest in images of abandoned cars was sparked recently after reading a review of, and then subsequently buying “Roadside Relics – America’s Abandoned Automobiles” by Will Shiers a photojournalist from the UK. It is a book full of wonderful pictures, taken over the last 10 to 15 years, of classic American automobiles of varying vintage (we’re talking early 70s and back) and all in various states of abandonment and dereliction. The author notes that with both the soaring price of scrap metal and environmental pressures his search for such photo opportunities has become more and more difficult as salvage yard merchants are cashing in and selling up, and backyards and roadsides are generally being ‘cleaned’ up. So it seems the great crusher in the sky now beckons for more and more of these hulks and this book could prove to be a lasting legacy and window on a golden age of abandoned automobiles. Many of the pictures were taken in salvage yards. But there are also some of cars that are at roadsides, or in fields, or behind derelict shops, simply left where they expired, often many years ago, and these are the really great images I think. They make you speculate on the sort of life the cars owners led? How far and wide did the cars travel in their lifetime? What were the circumstances surrounding their abandonment?

I now realise I have always had a general interest in things abandoned or derelict. For example I find that when out walking in the country I am always drawn to that abandoned and weed infested tractor in the corner of a field, or a tumble down shack, or a derelict house. I enjoy browsing antique markets, and, of course, I like collecting old records. Now, these images of abandoned cars have really captured my imagination. The author, Will Shiers, says in the introduction to his book: “I just think there is something so poignant about seeing a once-beautiful automobile, a car that used to someone’s pride and joy, sitting lonely in a field or junkyard, abandoned to the elements and ravages of time…”. Sums up my thoughts exactly. It’s a wonderful book, you should really go and buy it.

But so what? "This is a music blog", I hear you say? Well it got me wondering about grading systems. What??? Let me explain, or simply ramble a bit more! In vinyl record collecting there is a generally accepted grading system for describing a record’s condition M, M-, VG+ etc. Most of us are probably, usually, in search of M(int) or M- copies – i.e. the copies that haven’t been played, or played very few times, with pristine labels, and, for a 45, a company sleeve would provide the icing on the cake. At the same time most of us will normally pass over a G(ood) as it’s going to be scratched and generally beat up. On the record grading scale M(int) is good and G(ood) is bad. Is there a grading system for abandoned cars? I don’t know. But it strikes me that in my newly discovered esoteric world of images of abandoned and derelict automobiles you could pretty much turn the record grading system on its head. For me, a picture of a car in an advanced state of decay is far more interesting and poignant than one of a car that is gleaming and minty. There is one picture in the book featured here of a 1959 Mercury Monteray parked in the middle of a salvage yard that looks like it has just been driven off the concourse. A great looking car but as an image of a derelict it’s incongruous. So in this world G(ood) really is good and M(int) becomes bad. F(air) or P(oor) are technically gradings as well, but let's say for the sake of argument they represent a few rusting panels barely hanging together and discount them because that’s not really my cup of tea. It’s V(ery)G(ood) territory that sets my pulse racing. The front cover of the book is shown here and depicts a 1961 Plymouth, which in my newly adapted grading scale would, I think, rank as a VG. Perfect.


To complement this Plymouth, newly graded VG, here is a record from my collection that in the record grading world probably also ranks as VG (at a pinch). Appropriately it’s on the Wheelsville label, and the title is sort of appropriate too. This record looks and sounds like it has been around the block a few times but apparently it possesses something special. It seems most of the copies that turn up include an incorrect spelling - “craked” in the title on the label. This one says “cracked” so even though it’s probably only a VG, maybe it’s still worth a bit. Not that I’m selling. This side of the label seems a few shades lighter than the other. Like the rusting beauties in Will Shiers book maybe it’s been basking in the sun for a few years.

Lee Rogers – Cracked Up Over You 1966

And the B side

Lee Rogers – How Are You Fixed For Love 1966

“Cracked Up Over You” appears on “Northern Souljers Meet Hi Rhythm” which looks like a good compilation CD.

And, couldn’t resist this

Philly sparks

Once again this week my writing head has been in neutral. I have a fair stack of vinyl lined up for possible future posts but I’m having trouble shifting the brain into gear to write anything around them, and I’m also feeling particularly lazy on the research front.

Part of the problem maybe that nothing in that stack of vinyl, as well loved and great as it all is, is jumping out and demanding to be played. That can bump me into writing action. In the end the motivation for this post came, in a round about sort of way, from listening to Mister C’s fill in show for Mr. Fine Wine over at Downtown Soulville. “Fill in” it maybe – Mister C plays a show a month in the Downtown Soulville slot – but in no way is the show a mere substitute, or a cheap bottle of plonk to Fine Wine’s rare vintage. Mister C plays some fantastic stuff. His latest show featured an hour of flat out brilliant soul music from his home town of Philadelphia. (One track in particular caused me to fire up an Internet search pretty sharpish, and lo and behold I found a minty sounding copy almost straightaway. I’ve paid my money and look forward to it dropping through the letterbox sometime soon. It will then join my blogworthy stack and you can expect to see it featured here sometime in the future).

I grew up hearing the Philly Sound of Gamble-Huff on the radio – the likes of the O’Jays, Harold Melvin, Billy Paul, and Teddy Pendergrass on the PIR imprint - but this show made me realise just how much great music had been coming out of Philadelphia before the Philly Sound, as I understood it, had become established. For example it hadn’t registered with me that Arctic was a Philly label.
I should of course have known this already from reading Larry’s occasional posts on all things Philly over at Funky 16 Corners, he’s a fan for sure.

So here is an example of the weird and wonderful(?) way my mind works: I had just been thinking my general laziness and lack of inspiration on the writing front could be in danger of reaching a critical situation – then listening to Mister C put me in mind of Philadelphia – hey presto the synapses sparked and from nowhere Billy Paul’s “It’s Critical” appeared on the top of my tracks to blog. The Philly Sound of Gamble and Huff was getting pretty long in the tooth by the time this was released, this was 1979 after all. “It’s Critical” appeared on Billy Paul’s last album for PIR “First Class”, which turned out to be something of a hiatus for him. I haven’t heard the album version. I have it as a “Special Disco Version” (again, this was 1979) on the b-side of the 12” “Bring The Family Back”. But don’t be put off by those dread words “Special Disco Version”, there are no cow bells or syndrums or extended pointlessness. In this case I suspect it just means a longer version. Just listen to those Philly session men cook, the track simmers beautifully throughout.

I played this record a lot back in the day. At the time of it’s release I was doing a bit of DJing and I seem to remember thinking I thought it was too sophisticated to fit into the sets I was playing so it didn’t get too many airings. At the same time I wanted to tell the world how great this track was, now finally all these years later, due to a random synaptic event, I am.


Billy Paul – It’s Critical 1979

Billy’s “First Class” album is available together with “Let ‘em in” and “Only The Strong Survive” on a 2 CD set from Edsel.

Faith & Hope

I have suffered another writers block this week. But I shouldn’t forget my listeners, after all the music is the main point of this blog. In these difficult times it’s good to turn to a record that I know nothing about. That way there isn’t much to say and I can just let the music speak for itself.

Brenda & Albert’s 1974 single fitted the bill in terms of obscurity. I say “fitted”, rather than “fits” because of course I couldn’t resist plonking “Brenda & Albert” into Google for a quick search. I was just giving up on the click throughs when I hit on some discussion on Faith, Hope & Charity on the Soulful Detroit forums.

Looking at the record label the only two things that had struck a chord with me were the names Paul Riser – a prolific producer and arranger who, I believe, started life at Motown – and the co-writer “A. Latimer” on “This Has Happened Before” - who could be the singer Almeta Latimer (or Lattimore)? Now I know a bit more, and crucially the identity of Brenda and Albert. They are Brenda Hilliard and Albert Bailey – Faith and Hope from Faith, Hope And Charity.

The SD forums often prove to be a goldmine of information, and you can find out much more background information on Brenda and Albert, FHC and the label Clarama here.

You learn something new every day. Result!

Now, if the mighty Blues can find enough fit players and beat those Red Devils later today that would be two results in one day.

Here are both sides of Brenda & Albert’s 1974 single. Feel uplifted and happy (hopefully the way I will be feeling later today) listening to “Talking About Loving You”; and enjoy the slow and soulful “This Has Happened Before” a STRONG b-side with a lovely guitar motif, great vocals from B & A (or should that be F & H), and a beautiful arrangement from Paul Riser.

Brenda & Albert – Talking About Loving You 1974
Brenda & Albert – This Has Happened Before 1974

The freshness still sealed within

A few weeks had passed since my last crate digging outing. In fact recent trips had been restricted to a simple trawl of the local charity shops and ‘crate digging’ could be considered a rather grand term for such jaunts. The itch needed to be scratched last weekend with something a bit more serious. The trouble is there are limited options in my neck of the woods. I live in quite a large city by UK standards so you would think there would be some choice, but it goes to show that the physical pursuit of vinyl – as opposed to the e-pursuit – is getting more and more difficult. My feeling, from tales told in the blogosphere, is that there are still plenty more options in the USA.

Anyway, hereabouts there are only four outlets I can think of dedicated to the noble art of selling second hand vinyl. One of these has by far the most stock, but I have visited it a few times in the past and always been disappointed. I stride towards the shop full of enthusiasm but, somehow, instead of feeling that rush of anticipation as I walk over its threshold, I’m always overcome with a feeling of indifference. Why? Any number of reasons could, and do, apply I think. The sheer volume of records is initially daunting. There is a predominance of albums, and I am currently enjoying a renewed and extended romance with the 45. I know these guys have been in business for a long time, so presumably they know their stuff and bargains will be few and far between. A lot of the stock, especially the 45s, is sorted in alphabetical order but not by genre. They are also crammed tightly into their boxes so making quick riffling difficult, and believe me quick riffling is preferable as there is a lot of dross to cut through. During previous visits soul and funk as a genre seem to have been almost completely absent.

OK, enough reasons. So what of my latest visit? This post can’t be all bad news and general grumpiness you’re thinking? Well, I experienced the familiar ennui as I walked in. I decided to head straight to the back of the shop. It’s almost a separate room and tends to be where the more expensive and individually priced stock is, but I figured it’s also where any soul and funk might be. Ennui was replaced by hope as I found that a dedicated section of soul and funk had been set up – no 45s, all albums, but never mind. There were at least six boxes so eager now I dived in. Initially hope retreated – all were priced at £5 and everything appeared to be commonplace or albums I already had, and multiple copies of lots of items. Then halfway through the third box I pulled out a copy of The Ohio Players 1976 album “Contradiction”. Not rare I know, but I used to love that album. I never had my own copy but had taped it off a friend’s copy all those years ago and the tape has been well played down the years. But the really magical thing about this plum I had just pulled out was that it was still sealed. I ran through the rest of the boxes but didn’t find anything else that justified the asking price (although I did find another still sealed copy of “Contradiction”). I handed over my £5 and left happy and with a spring in my step clutching my still sealed Ohio Players.


On getting home I then agonized over whether or not to remove the cellophane. I carefully slit one side so I could get the record out – I’m not completely mad I do actually like to play my records as well as look at them! But then the question - do I go further and remove all the cellophane? The Ohio Players were of course famous for their mmm…‘hot’ album covers, which were all gatefold. This one was no exception, so in the end the agonizing didn’t last too long, the cellophane had to come off! And there it was, the sleeve and record as fresh as the day it was sealed in cellophane some 31 years ago (assuming it’s a first press of course, and that’s what I’m happy to believe).

The music in the grooves still sounds fresh too. Here are two tracks from that record, beautifully pop and click free, recorded from only it’s second ever play.

Ohio Players – My Life 1976
Ohio Players – Far East Mississippi 1976

Opening a still sealed record after 31 years is a bit like entering a time warp. As a bonus here’s a link back to my post that featured an Ohio Players track from 39 years ago, the sublime “Here Today And Gone Tomorrow”. There you will find that the mp3 is available again for your listening pleasure.


It just so happens that “Contradiction”, teamed with “Honey” is released on a digitally remastered CD on 4th June. Go get it.

Cover Me

Until recently, with a few exceptions, I had not really been a fan of cover versions. My default position has been, almost invariably, original is best. Perhaps it was just the cover versions I had been exposed to weren’t that great. A lot in the rock genre just seem to me to be unimaginative, too close to the original, and just plain derivative. In the soul world when an artist performs a cover version, especially of a well known pop song, too often I feel somehow short changed. It seems some songs don’t suit a soul treatment and both the song and the singer’s delivery end up diluted.

Of course there is the question of what constitutes a cover version? Plenty of artists perform songs written by somebody else.
Down the line a song may well have been recorded by ‘the original artist’ but gone unnoticed. Each of us have probably listened to many cover versions not realising they are, as we are unfamiliar with the original. So in that case could it then be said that, from the listener’s point of view, the cover version could be seen as the original version and, if subsequently heard, the original version could be regarded as the cover version?!
Then there is the jazz world to consider. Jazz is full of artists interpreting and reinterpreting established tunes, but I never think of those as cover versions.
In reggae, especially roots reggae, there were many variations on a common dub or rhythm track and they were actually called "versions".
Somehow, though, to my mind a cover version has to be a vocal for starters. So for me perhaps, in an accepted sense, a cover version could generally be regarded as a vocal recording of a song that is already established in the general public consciousness – i.e. it has previously been a hit, widely played, or an entry in the “Great American Songbook”, that sort of thing. But there again if the song is generally recognized as being part of the “Great American Songbook” (whatever that is exactly) it’s probably been recorded hundreds of times already. At some point perhaps it could be said that a song moves into open season and further recordings of it are no longer seen as a cover.

Confused by these ramblings? I am – completely!

Something has triggered this rambling though. Recently there seem to have been a lot of cover versions featured in the blogosphere (at least on the blogs I regularly visit). Alex at Moistworks recently posted no less than five versions of “Since I Fell For You”; somewhere (sorry whoever you are, I can’t remember where I heard this now) recently you could find Aretha’s great rendition of “Bridge Over Troubled Water”; and of course Oliver Wang has just released his SoulSides2 CD on which every track is a cover. What nearly all of these tracks have made me understand is that you should not dismiss a cover version, and I will not be so sniffy about them in the future.

Got The Fever recently featured some delicious tracks from Jeannie Bryson’s new album. A name I was not previously familiar with. One of the tracks was her take on Todd Rundgren’s “Hello It’s Me”. I loved that record when it first came out. I really like Jeannie’s version and it prompted me to dig out The Isley Brother’s 1974 album “Live It Up”. Amongst all the original Isleys material on that album was another great version of “Hello It’s Me”. Maybe some songs are so strong you cannot make a bad cover. (On their previous album, the classic “3+3”, they had also included two covers – the Doobie’s “Listen To The Music” which wasn’t great shakes, and Seals & Croft’s “Summer Breeze” which was simply magnificent).

As well as the Isleys I’ve thrown in another track today for good measure – Elkie Brooks doing a Ned Doheny penned song “Learn To Love” (from her 1978 album “Shooting Star” – for the most part a gently soulful and funky affair, albeit Elkie’s voice can be an acquired taste at times). It has a similar laid back feel so fits well. Ned wrote it and probably recorded it but I have never heard it so Elkie’s performance to my ears is the original, although in reality it’s a cover. But then Ned’s recording, if it exists, is hardly well known so would Elkie’s version still be classed as a cover?

I’m confused again, I think I better go and lie down (and listen to these great tracks once more). Cover me – with a sheet!

The Isley Brothers – Hello It’s Me 1974
Elkie Brooks – Learn To Love 1978