Jean Knight could do no wrong in 1971, when the strutting "Mr. Big Stuff" was climbing the pop and R&B charts, well on its way to becoming one of the most familiar chart hits of all time. Her debut album, with its no-brainer title, featured a lot of good material on it, not all of it in the same vein as her hit. Producer/arranger Wardell Quezergue (he also appeared on keyboards) handled the record well, with a band consisting of Malaco hands like guitarist Jerry Puckett and drummer James Stroud. Knight shows an admirable range on these songs, stretching out on the heartbroken ballads "A Little Bit of Something (Is Better Than All of Nothing)" and "Why I Keep Living These Memories" (each with a heavy church feel). "You City Slicker" was much too much of a "Mr. Big Stuff" sound-alike, but "Take Him (You Can Have My Man)" would've been a worthy follow-up to her only Top Ten hit. The CD reissue by Fantasy added a few of her later singles, including the charting "You Think You're Hot Stuff" and the fine "Carry On." (AMG)Jean Knight - Mr. Big Stuff (1971) {{link in comments}}
Thomas' first album was built around the huge title hit, and also included her follow-up single, "A Love of My Own," which reached the R&B Top 20, although it wasn't nearly as popular as "Gee Whiz (Look at His Eyes)." The record is far more pop-oriented than the sound for which Stax would become known, with both the material and the arrangements showing substantial influences from pop standards, doo wop, and even (particularly in the songs with backup vocals by the Anita Kerr Singers) Nashville country. That doesn't make it a bad record at all, just not one that listeners familiar with the Stax sound, or even Thomas' later Stax records, might expect. Though Thomas herself wrote some of the songs, about half of the tracks are covers of pop standards ("[I'm Afraid] The Masquerade Is Over") and still-recent rock/R&B hits like the Drifters' "Dance With Me" and "Fools Fall in Love" and the Five Satins' "To the Aisle." Also onboard is a composition by Carla's dad, Rufus Thomas, and a song and a half by famed Memphis producer Chips Moman, who produced five of the tracks. (AMG)
Compiled from three Christmas LPs and various singles released by the "Santa of Soul" between 1966-1970, this 16-track collection includes one of James Brown's most over-the-top scream-fests on "Let's Make Christmas Mean Something this Year," while he gets loose and funky with "Soulful Christmas." Others have tried, but nobody can beat the Godfather of Soul on his ballad "Sweet Little Baby Boy," and nobody but the "Man who put the 'wet' in sweat" can pull off "Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto." This is as essential as it gets. (AMG)
At the time of the release of Think (About It) in 1972, Lyn Collins had been a member of James Brown's performing revue for about two years. Her full-throated voice had earned her the nickname "the Female Preacher" and a shot to record her own album. Of course, the Godfather was in the producer's chair, writing four of the nine tracks, directing the J.B.'s as they laid down their usual funky grooves, and liberally adding vocals throughout. The title track is the main point of interest here; from Collins' throat-ripping vocals to the track's nasty groove to Brown's background interjections, this is a killer. (Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock later sampled the track for their rap classic "It Takes Two"). The rest of the record is a little uneven: "Just Won't Do Right" is a good doo wop-ish ballad with some churchy organ and great vocals by Collins and Brown, "Wheels of Life" is a nice little groover that sounds like vintage Aretha Franklin, and "Women's Lib" is a very slow ballad that lets Collins show off her anguished yowl of a vocal to its fullest. Where the album stumbles is on the covers of familiar songs. Her versions of Bill Withers' "Ain't No Sunshine" and the Gamble & Huff classic "Never Gonna Give You Up" are mediocre, and worst of all is her leaden take on "Fly Me to the Moon." Still, the record is worth tracking down for hardcore James Brown or funky soul fans. The less devoted should look for "Think (About It)" on one of the many compilations on which it appears. (AMG)
When Jay-Z dropped "The City Is Mine" in 1997 and claimed New York's hip-hop throne upon the Notorious B.I.G.'s demise, many smirked and some even snickered. Four years later in 2001, when he released The Blueprint, no one was smirking and no one dared snicker. At this point in time, nobody in New York could match Jay-Z rhyme for rhyme and nobody in New York had fresher beats — and many would argue that Jigga's reign was not just confined to New York but was, in fact, national. Yes, Jay-Z had risen to the top of the rap game in the late '90s and solidified his position with gigantic hits like "Big Pimpin" and "I Just Wanna Love You (Give It 2 Me)." Furthermore, The Blueprint's leadoff single, "Izzo (H.O.V.A.)," dominated urban radio numerous weeks before the album hit the streets, generating so much demand that Def Jam had to push up the album's street date because it was being so heavily bootlegged. So when Jay-Z opens The Blueprint dropping rhymes about "runnin' this rap sh*t," it's not so much arrogance as it is a matter of fact. And by the time he brutally dismisses two of his most formidable opponents, Mobb Deep and Nas, less than ten minutes into the album, there's little doubt that Jay-Z's status as the top MC in the game is justified. But that's just one song. There are 12 other songs on The Blueprint — and they're all stunning, to the point where the album seems almost flawless. Besides rhymes that challenge those on Reasonable Doubt as the most crafted of Jay-Z's career to date in terms of not only lyrics but also flow and delivery, The Blueprint also boasts some of his most extravagant beats, courtesy of impressive newcomers Kayne West and Just Blaze. Moreover, if the rhymes and beats alone don't make The Blueprint a career highlight for Jay-Z, the minimal guest appearances surely do. For once, listeners get exactly what they want: Jay-Z and nothing but Jay-Z, over beats so loaded with marvelously flipped samples the songs don't even need big vocal hooks. Besides, when you're already the top MC in the game, there's no need for crossover attempts. Uneven albums like Hard Knock Life were the crossover attempts, and now that Jay-Z is "runnin' this rap sh*t," a fully realized masterpiece like The Blueprint is the glorious result. (AMG)
Appearing after a blockbuster debut and a sophomore set that was rather disappointing (in comparison), 1968's Lady Soul proved Aretha Franklin, the pop sensation, was no fluke. Her performances were more impassioned than on her debut, and the material just as strong, an inspired blend of covers and originals from the best songwriters in soul and pop music. The opener, "Chain of Fools," became the biggest hit, driven by a chorus of cascading echoes by Franklin and her bedrock backing vocalists, the Sweet Impressions, plus the unforgettable, earthy guitar work of guest Joe South. The album's showpiece, though, was "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman," a song written expressly for her by Brill Building pop stalwarts Gerry Goffin and Carole King, based on a title coined by producer Jerry Wexler. One of the landmark performances in pop music, the song floats serenely through the verses until, swept up by Ralph Burns' stirring string arrangement again and again, Franklin opens up on the choruses with one of the most transcendent vocals of her career. And just as she'd previously transformed a soul classic (Otis Redding's "Respect") into a signature piece of her own, Franklin courageously reimagined songs by heavyweights James Brown, Ray Charles, and the Impressions. Brown's "Money Won't Change You" is smooth and kinetic, her testifying constantly reinforced by interjections from the Sweet Inspirations. Curtis Mayfield's "People Get Ready," a 1965 civil-rights anthem and a hit for the Impressions, is taken at a slower pace than the original; after a quiet verse, Franklin lets loose amidst a magisterial brass arrangement by Arif Mardin. Powered by three hit singles (each nested in the upper reaches of the pop Top Ten), Lady Soul became Aretha Franklin's second gold LP and remained on the charts for over a year. (AMG)
Erma Franklin wears the family name well. Just as great as Aretha in interpreting songs. Just listen to her versions of songs her sister also recorded: Baby, I Love You and Son of a Preacher Man. And in the case of the latter, listen to her version compared to Dusty Springfield's, which is normally considered the definitive recording. Erma's interpretations have their own vibrancy and deep soul that allow them to stand on their own BESIDE these other versions, not in contrast to them. If you love deep soul and believe you have all the definitive recordings, you do not if you don't have this one.
As Alice Clark's eponymous 1972 epic on Bob Shad's Mainstream Records label is a thing of beauty deserving a wider audience, so is Norman Whitfield's 1975 supervision of Yvonne Fair entitled The Bitch Is Black. A title that shocked and grabbed attention upon its release, it may also have played a part in not revealing the majestic voice and soul-stirring ballads within. If you can't tell a book by its cover, be careful if the title throws you off base as well. Sure, Harvey Fuqua's "Stay a Little Longer" has some gutsy vocals reflecting that title -- and stunning production by Fuqua as Whitfield had collaborators in that department on this disc -- Pam Sawyer, Gloria Jones, and Clay McMurray also chipping in, but this is Yvonne Fair's moment in the sun and her big U.K. hit, "It Should Have Been Me," should have been a monster in the U.S. as well. There's a hilarious parody of it on YouTube under the name Vicar of Dibley, a British TV sitcom with a comedienne, Dawn French, doing the lip sync to Fair's popular rendition. Stevie Wonder's "Tell Me Something Good," a Top Three hit for Chaka Khan in the summer of 1974, is absolutely grand here, with bubbling guitar and sweet horns that give it an entirely different perspective. A cover of Barbara George's 1962 hit "I Know (You Don't Love Me No More)" moves with authority, and is a great selection on one of those albums that not only doesn't have a bad track, it's one that you wish would just keep on going. The re-release on reissue supervisor Paul Williams' Reel Music label has a generous 7,500-word essay by liner note writer A. Scott Galloway, over 20 pages with photos and information that has never been revealed about the singer before. Galloway interviewed Dionne Warwick, Chuck Jackson, Venisha Brown (daughter of Fair and James Brown), and many others specifically for this release. There's also a stunning and quite rare wedding photo of Fair in the tray when you lift the CD out of the jewel case, those in charge making it a labor of love that shows great respect for the artist. Packaged with the tender loving care this music deserves, and impressively remastered by Bill Lacey, it's a project that sets a new standard and is an absolute delight in every aspect. (AMG)
While the inclusion of "Respect" — one of the truly seminal singles in pop history — is in and of itself sufficient to earn I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You classic status, Aretha Franklin's Atlantic label debut is an indisputable masterpiece from start to finish. Much of the credit is due to producer Jerry Wexler, who finally unleashed the soulful intensity so long kept under wraps during her Columbia tenure; assembling a crack Muscle Shoals backing band along with an abundance of impeccable material, Wexler creates the ideal setting to allow Aretha to ascend to the throne of Queen of Soul, and she responds with the strongest performances of her career. While the brilliant title track remains the album's other best-known song, each cut on I Never Loved a Man is touched by greatness; covers of Ray Charles' "Drown in My Own Tears" and Sam Cooke's "Good Times" and "A Change Is Gonna Come" are on par with the original recordings, while Aretha's own contributions — "Don't Let Me Lose This Dream," "Baby, Baby, Baby," "Save Me," and "Dr. Feelgood (Love Is a Serious Business)" — are perfectly at home in such lofty company. A soul landmark. (AMG)
Anna King's only album is notable not so much for her vocals (though they're good) as the involvement of James Brown as producer; Brown (usually under pseudonyms) also wrote some of the material. King was a part of Brown's touring show at the time these tracks were recorded in 1963 and 1964, and unsurprisingly the sound is very similar to the kind of stuff her producer was doing in the early '60s before his leap into funk: hard, bluesy R&B-proto-soul, with tight band arrangements including horns and organ. A few covers of outside material are thrown in (Martha & the Vandellas' "Come and Get These Memories," Chuck Jackson's "I Don't Want to Cry"), but overall it sounds a little like a James Brown session with a different singer. Unkindly, some might listen to this and wonder how much better it could have sounded if Brown had done the singing, and it's also evident that while the songs are sturdy enough, J.B. was holding onto the real killers for himself. That would be doing the record a bit of a disservice, however, because King's vocals are acceptably gritty and powerful. The songs are solid, if not on the killer level of something like "Out of Sight," with Brown's up-tempo "If You Don't Think" being a particular standout owing to its sharp bluesy guitar lines and dramatic horn punctuations. Also on the record is her hit duet with Bobby Byrd, "Baby Baby Baby." It's unfortunate King wasn't able to record much more material to speak of with Brown or anyone else, but this is a good one-shot early soul LP, and recommended to general James Brown fans for its accurate reflection of his instrumental sound circa 1963-1964. (AMG)
Blakroc is a rap rock collaboration album by Ohio-based blues rock band The Black Keys and several hip hop and R&B artists. The project has been overseen by Damon Dash, co-founder and formerly owner of a share in Roc-A-Fella Records. Its contributors will be Raekwon, RZA and the late Ol' Dirty Bastard of the Wu-Tang Clan; Jim Jones, formerly of The Diplomats, and NOE, formerly a DipSet affiliate; Mos Def; singer Nicole Wray; Pharoahe Monch; Southern rapper Ludacris; Billy Danze, one half of M.O.P.; and Q-Tip, formerly of A Tribe Called Quest. (wikipedia)
James Brown regarded Vicki Anderson as the best singer he ever had in his band. During her two stints as James leading singer in the late 60s and early 70s, she recorded some great singles, but never had an album release, making this the first legal album. Many of the tracks are making their first appearance on CD. Includes 2 duets with James Brown. Soul Brother Records. 2004.
Some electronica producers spend their entire careers building up a roster of instruments, legions of samples, and more gear than any bedroom studio could possibly fit. Jamie Lidell has apparently been reducing not only his equipment list to its basics, but his production style, so it includes a minimum of things that you need to program (much less plug in). Of course, that jives with his gradual blossoming as an unhinged soul singer on 2005's Multiply, which has only blossomed further for 2008's Jim, a neo-soul record that sounds like it was recorded live, in the kind of studio that each of the album's seven to eight musicians actually could fit into. Part of this is the result of Lidell and co-producer Mocky's ability to record so well that the production doesn't stand out by itself, but simply works as a vehicle for the songs. On a performance level, Lidell mostly avoids the pitfalls of Multiply, where he sounded faithful but not always sincere. On Jim he's not only writing better songs, but performing them as though he's lived them (this is where a good hands-off production can improve the proceedings). It doesn't really matter whether Lidell's rebirth as a soul singer is an example of an artist following his muse or simply looking for a way out of electronica, when the results motivate your body as well as "Out of My System" or move your heart as well as "All I Wanna Do." Jim is most reminiscent of the Southern deep soul of the late '60s, although recorded so well (and so dry) that it betrays its lineage. That sound is a good complement to the other British soul stalwarts with retro-soul and -funk leanings, from Lewis Taylor to Jamiroquai to the Cinematic Orchestra (and, for that matter, including Joss Stone and Amy Winehouse as well). Add to that an assortment of unobtrusive guests (including Nikka Costa, Gonzales, Peaches, and Alex Acuña) doing great work, and the result is a record that reveals soul and sincerity. (AMG)
Carlos Santana was originally in his own wing of the Latin Rock Hall of Fame, neither playing Afro-Cuban with rock guitar, as did Malo, nor flavoring mainstream rock with percussion, as did Chicago. His first record, as with the best fusion, created something a little different than just a mixture — a new style that, surprisingly, remains all his own. Granted that Latin music has seeped into the mainstream since, but why aren't Van Halen and Metallica listening to this? Where they simmer, Santana boils over. (amg)
The explosion of material that resulted in the Magnetic Fields' triple-disc opus 69 Love Songs would've wiped out the average tunesmith, but mastermind Stephin Merritt wields a pen of bottomless ink. Like a long-distance runner, he paced himself, saving up material lest his many guises should grow restless. The 6ths released Hyacinths and Thistles the following year; 2002 saw the sophomore effort from the Future Bible Heroes and the soundtrack to the James Bolton film Eban and Charley; and in 2003 he scored yet another soundtrack, this time to the Katie Holmes drama Pieces of April. Nearly five years after Love Songs, the Magnetic Fields returned with i, a "synth free" collection of love, life, and loss that relies heavily on cello, guitar, and that most selfish of vowels, the letter I. Merritt's kitchen produces pop confections that can rot teeth, but the bitter aftertaste owes more to Randy Newman than it does Belle & Sebastian. He may be a stalker of clever rhymes about hopeless romantics and lost opportunities, but it's the failed and despondent receiving the brunt of his obsessive detail. On the deceptive lullaby "I Was Born," he laments, "Growing older is killing a child who laughed and smiled at anything." The specter of age is not immune to the pain of a broken heart, and the dense Brill Building aesthetic of songs like "I Don't Believe You" and "Looked All Over Town" resonate with the kind of desperation that's usually reserved for the young and naïve, but has manifested itself into -- to quote a song title from the 6ths -- an "Aging Spinster." Musically, i isn't that much of a departure from previous outings, as the "organic" instrumentation is often treated with the same effects that Merritt utilizes on his synth-based recordings. Cabaret-style pieces like "In an Operetta" are lent added weight by the self-described "awful" singer's newfound range, and when he unveils a surprisingly sweet and delicate falsetto on the gorgeous closer, "It's Only Time," the listener's voice breaks right along with him. There are plenty of prolific artists putting to tape their every whim, and Merritt's no exception. He may spread himself thin when overseeing his army of side projects, but when he leads his Magnetic Fields into battle, the results are always in the public's favor. (AMG)
