The Oliverwho Factory “Past, Present & Future” Madd Chaise Inc
Ever since I came across their releases a while ago, I’m a fan of this elusive couple from Detroit. Were their previous tracks often weird and wild, heaping ideas on top of each other that could supply other current house (and techno) producers with a year’s worth of material, this EP is rather smooth, even if some of their earlier tracks already showed their skills in that area. Subjective as it may be, on these tracks they manage to utilize elements that usually put me off house records right away: nujazzy offbeat rhythms, afro percussion, synth noodlings, this harmony singing that Blaze once brought into the scene (but it certainly wasn’t their fault, bless). In short, I have a whole range of unpleasant associations I normally connect to this certain kind of “spiritual” house that was predominantly championed in the New York scene of former years. That kind of house that wants to lift you up with its soulfulness, when it actually drags you down with weak songs, stereotypical arrangements and deepness by numbers. It speaks a lot for Oliverwho Factory that they take exactly these ingredients and make them shine in a different light, whilst maintaining their own way of establishing their signature rough moods and original details. Judging from the variety between house, techno and beyond they have covered so far, they are definitely on the surprising side of club music, and I trust them to stay there.
Anthony Shakir “Frictionalisms 1994 – 2009” Rush Hour
Where other Detroit originators struggled to keep up their standards for whatever reason as time passed by, Anthony Shakir never failed to deliver releases full of stunning ideas and sounds, rhythmic complexities and style-bending adventurousness. Nevertheless a lot of his output seemed to fly underneath the radar and so a bigger spotlight was long overdue. And like with Daniel Wang before, Rush Hour did a spectacular job in switching it on. There are many more gems to explore in Shakir’s back catalogue, but I can’t imagine a better place to start from than this retrospective (even if admittedly there is no other available anyway). I bet a lot of people will discover blueprints for other success stories in house and techno while hearing this, and it sure does no harm to point in the direction they’re coming from, and lick the funky emotions in the process.
nsi. “eitherway” non standard productions
Tobias Freund and Max Loderbauer surely have enough talent and vision to get away with borrowing from Haruomi Hosono for their brand name. With this EP they pick up where “Squelch” left, again eliciting an interesting plethora of sounds and rhythms from their presumably vast supply of machines, and arranging them like only those can do who invest a lot of thought and experience in what they do. Preset-free experimentalism with production values that shame most laptops into implosion, and truly in a league of its own. I really wouldn’t mind more current electronic music daring to take chances the way this music does, but I also absolutely don’t mind listening further into their space while waiting for that to happen. Non standard productions indeed.
So true funny how it seems always in time but never in line for dreams head over heels when toe to toe this is the sound of our soul
Lani Hall – Hello It’s Me Melissa Manchester – Talkin’ To Myself Carly Simon – Tranquillo Martha Velez – Up To You Joe Jackson – A Slow Song Maria McKee – Show Me Heaven Dusty Springfield – Nothing Has Been Proved (Dance Mix) Youssou N’Dour & Neneh Cherry – 7 Seconds Jim Diamond – I Should Have Known Better Heart – Alone Anita Baker – Sweet Love Laibach – Across The Universe Matt Bianco – More Than I Can Bear Simply Red – Holding Back The Years Style Council – Long Hot Summer (Tom Mix) Billy Idol – Eyes Without A Face Martika – Love Thy Will Be Done Sophie B. Hawkins – Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover Eurythmics – It’s Alright Linda Di Franco – T.V. Scene Any Trouble – Touch And Go Amii Stewart – Friends Spandau Ballet – True Dee Dee Bridgewater – Lonely Disco Dancer Hi-Gloss – You’ll Never Know Johnny Bristol – Take Me Down Andy Gibb – Shadow Dancing Robert Palmer – Mercy Mercy Me / I Want You Palais Schaumburg – Beat Of 2 Banderas – This Is Your Life Bee Gees – How Deep Is Your Love Richard Ace – If I Can’t Have You Dionne Warwick – Heartbreaker Barbra Streisand – Woman In Love
Auch wenn ich sie altersbedingt erst mit etwas Verspätung entdeckt hatte, der Split der Specials, nach nur zwei grandiosen Alben, war ein echtes Schockerlebnis. Man hatte gerade erst ihre Wichtigkeit begriffen, das Echo von „Ghost Town“ hallte im Kopf noch lange nach, aber da war es schon vorbei. Was die Mitglieder Terry Hall, Lynval Golding und Neville Staple kurz darauf als Fun Boy Three losließen, muss allerdings für weite Teile der Pork Pie behüteten 2-Tone-Fangemeinde noch ein viel größeres Schockerlebnis gewesen sein. Zwar deutete es sich bei „More Specials“ schon an, aber nun war sie ganz weg, die Punk/Ska-Kombi, die Rude Boy-Outfits, die bittere Straßenkultur, und vor allem die musikalische Ideenwelt von Jerry Dammers. Stattdessen: Dschungeltrommeln, knappe Slogans und billigste Elektronikinstrumentierung. Wo vorher die Specials noch vielfältige und abseitige Einflüsse zu einem scharfen Profil bündelten, waren Fun Boy Three erstmal eine simplifizierend klingende Trotzreaktion. Eine zutiefst gegenteilige Neuerfindung, die in ihrer Konsequenz unmissverständlich darauf hindeutete, dass bei den Specials bezüglich künstlerischer Differenzen doch einiges im Argen gelegen hatte. Dennoch, die kongeniale Gesangsachse zwischen Terrys schneidendem Call und Nevilles brummiger Response war noch bestens intakt, und die grundsätzliche Angepisstheit der Texte war auch keinen Deut abgemildert, sie war nur nicht mehr hinterhältige Detailbeobachtung, sondern hinterhältige Beobachtung eines frustrierenden Gesamtbildes. Dazu im Hintergrund ein einziges Gerumpel und Gerappel auf der einen, bunt-verquerer Einfachstpop auf der anderen Seite. Und natürlich introducing: Bananarama! Ich hatte damals nicht unbedingt Eindruck, dass dieses Album ein großer nachhaltiger Wurf sei, es gab einfach keinen Vergleich, und eigentlich folgte erst mit dem zweiten Album „Waiting“ die Erkenntnis, dass hier etwas Ungehörtes und Unverwechselbares passiert war. Selbstverständlich ist „Waiting“ eines der tollsten Alben überhaupt, aber eben musikalisch konventioneller, und diese Tatsache bewirkte bei mir, dass ich ihr erstes Album immer besser und wichtiger fand, wohingegen ihr zweites Album eines der tollsten Alben überhaupt blieb (siehe auch The Colourfield). Und das ist ein wichtiger Unterschied.
In discussion with Martyn on “Fear Of Music” by The Talking Heads (1979).
What got you into the Talking Heads? Can you remember the time and circumstances you first became aware of the band?
My father was an avid vinyl collector, he was a football player and played in the UEFA cup tournaments at the end of the 70’s and early 80’s. Wherever he played he managed to find a record store and buy new music. I’m not sure where he picked up “Fear Of Music” but I’m quite sure he bought the record when it was released (in 1979). In 1984, when I was 10 years old, my dad bought “Stop Making Sense” and I remember both that album as well as “Fear Of Music” being played at the house many many times. “Stop Making Sense”, a live album, came with a booklet with pictures from the live show, so I browsed through it whenever the album was played. I loved the “Fear of Music” sleeve as well, as it has an embossed pattern, it was the only record I had seen at that time which had that.
Why did you opt for “Fear Of Music” over other of their albums? What makes it so special for you?
Musically, I remember liking “Stop Making Sense” better at that time, it features a lot of the big Talking Heads tracks like “Psycho Killer”, “Burning Down The House” and “Once In A Lifetime”, and although I knew “Fear of Music” practically by head, I revisited it many years later and came to appreciate it more. My dad didn’t own the other Talking Heads albums, but he did have Tom Tom Club’s first album. I started buying vinyl around 1982, with my first allowance money. It started with pop music obviously, and my own collection started to grow and grow. Later, when I got into late 80’s / early 90’s hip hop, I started digging in my dad’s soul and funk records (as hip hop used many of those to sample from). I left all the new wave and 70s/80s pop for what it was at that time, but about 5 years ago I went back in big time, to Roxy Music, David Bowie, ABC, Human League, Ultravox, and some of the New York bands like Talking Heads. I was moving houses a lot and dragged my vinyl collection everywhere, for some reason I felt that some of my dad’s records needed to be in the collection just to carry a part of my “home” with me. Even now that I’ve moved to the US, I had some of my favourite records shipped over and some of those have indeed been “in the family” for 30+ years, including “Fear Of Music”.
Right, we’re going to set it off with “Set It Off”. Basically with “Set It Off”, growing up in New York in the 70’s and 80’s, I grew up with my parents and my brother – my brother being a DJ since 1980, and there were a lot of musical roots in my household. I was always around music. Mostly disco and electro, stuff like that. Growing up with my parents in the 70’s, they were really big on disco and I was hearing everything from “Ten Percent” by Double Exposure to so many underground disco records, like from 76, Jimmy and the Vagabonds, or Crown Heights Affair. Old school disco. I always had roots in the family. My father also had a pretty big rock collection from the late 60’s – Sabbath, Zeppelin, psychedelic rock. That was played probably when I was really younger, but 74/75 my parents were already getting into disco at that time. The roots of the music were always there with me and I would buy records on the occasion. I remember buying Fatback Band’s “King Tim III” which was pretty much the first rap record, Michael Jackson – “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough”, “Let’s All Chant”, stuff like that. I was like 7 or 8 years old buying this stuff but I was never really into DJing at this time. My brother was the DJ. He was the one buying the records and DJing. He knew what was going on musically. I would say when I really first started to pay attention to music a lot, but I still was not a DJing, was around 83/84, and I was around 12 years old at the time and I was getting into graffiti which I was actually documenting on subway trains by photographs. I was travelling from Brooklyn to the Bronx. I was going everywhere with a camera – all four boroughs that had a subway system. The records at that time were a lot of electro stuff that was being played. A lot of freestyle like C-Bank’s “One More Shot” or “Al-Naafiysh” by Hashim. I still didn’t really know who the artists were and stuff like that, but I knew the records and heard them all the time on the radio. Around 84 I went to a break dancing club at a roller skating rink to watch a bunch of people battling, and I heard “Set It Off” for the first time. I don’t know what it was with that record but it fit all the movies I liked at that time: New York movies like The Warriors, Death Wish. It was just this dark record that was kind of like the soundtrack of New York City at the time, when New York City was just like in urban decay. On my way somewhere with my parents you would see all these abandoned building like in Berlin in 1945 in certain areas. Then taking the train to the South Bronx and seeing that…I have such a vivid memory of being on the Pelham subway line going to see one of the most famous Graffiti writers in New York called Seen, who was in the documentary Style Wars, and I befriended him when I was probably like 13. He used to airbrush t-shirts in a flea market. I don’t know why music always has a place in a moment that you can remember a certain situation. I can remember being in that flea market and then playing that track. It was just like the track of tracks. It was the soundtrack of graffiti, of New York, the rawness. When I got into techno in about 1990 and I went to trace back all the records that I’d been collecting and I would go back and listen to that record it just sounded so current. Not current to what techno was, but on the production level. When you listen to other electro records or freestyle records from that time, nothing has that 808 feel like “Set It Off” does. That production is just sick. The bassline. There’s really no other record from that time period, apart from maybe “Hip Hop Be Bop” or “Boogie Down Bronx”, that should have been the soundtrack to The Warriors. It’s just an amazing track. The irony of whole record being my favourite record is that it was produced on a label located in Ocean Avenue in Brooklyn, so that record was made probably two miles from where I lived. I guess Walter Gibbons produced Strafe, but it was made in Brooklyn. It’s a 100% Brooklyn. That record… the build up, the vocals, just everything about it…I could listen to it over and over again on repeat mode.
Would you say they produced a prototype with this? It’s a lot darker than most of the electro productions around that time.
I think it’s definitely the prototype for a lot of the future electro stuff that was coming out through the techno scene in the 90’s. Anybody making electro music at that time had to know that record. You have “Planet Rock” and you have “Clear” by Cybotron but that record just stands out for me. It’s such a better record. I love the other records but when I hear “Set It Off” the goose bumps come up. It sounds like something from a John Carpenter movie. It could be from “Assault On Precinct 13”, even if you can’t mess with that soundtrack. It is in the same mode as that. It gives the same feeling, and the same vibe and mood. Those eerie chord strings in the back and the bassline. You can’t mess with it.
> Ryuichi Sakamoto – Riot In Lagos
The next one is “Riot in Lagos” by Ryuichi Sakamoto.
This is an interesting track that Bones had turned me onto in probably sometime in the early to mid 90’s. He was refreshing my memory on records that were on when we used to go to roller skating rinks, and one of the other records was Kasso’s “Key West”. I remember he was playing all these records and I was like flabbergasted by the sounds and the music and how futuristic it was for 80’/81′. The thing was when I got into techno and I realised what electronic music was, and I’m hearing Bones and Lenny Dee – this is the 808, this is the 909 – trying to get my head around all these machines, and Bones was playing me records later on saying “these are the first 808 records, or 909 drum rhythm records”, and I never looked at the music I was listening to in the early 80’s, like Kraftwerk, as electronic music or acoustic music – I never made that difference in my head. I never sat there and thought “Oh, I like music with synthesisers”. When I heard this Sakamoto record, I kind of recalled hearing it but it didn’t really ring a bell in a big way for me. But it did ring my bell. [laughs] I was like “Whoa! What the fuck is this?” because I guess it’s got that Eastern, Asian kind of melody sound to it. That is a one of a kind record. There is nothing that sounds like that. I have never, ever heard another record ever sound like that. It cannot be copied.
It even sounded different to the sound Sakamoto was doing with Yellow Magic Orchestra.
Yeah. There is another Sakamoto record that I got a little later on, once I realised who he was, that is quite rare. Not many people know it, it’s called “Lexington Queen”. It’s amazing. It was released as a 12” and also a 45 as well. I probably should have been digging a little deeper on Sakamoto stuff, when I was doing my East kind of record shopping ten years ago, when I was looking for all this 80’s stuff. But I heard a few things by him that didn’t hit me the way those two records hit me. But “Riot In Lagos” is just a special record, what a special piece of electronic music. It’s up there with Kraftwerk.
It is pioneering electronic music, but from a very different angle.
Again, it’s got that Japanese sound to it. Whatever Japanese electronic music was in the 80’s, I don’t really know much about it, but this is a brilliant track. Read the rest of this entry »
In discussion with Todd Burns on “Celebration Of The Lizard” by The Doors (1968).
This song has quite a special status in the Doors back catalogue, could you elaborate on why you choose this over other of their songs?
“Celebration Of The Lizard” does have a special status in the Doors back catalogue, largely because it was never released. The group ended their first two albums with very long, epic songs—“The End” and “When The Music’s Over”—and, as I understand it, this was supposed to be the song that concluded their third full-length. Unfortunately, for one reason or another, the group couldn’t get a take that they were happy with and had to substitute a few other tunes instead to fill out the record. As someone who is rather fascinated by the history of music, I’ve always been fascinated by failures and coulda-beens. “Death Of A Ladies Man” is my favorite Cohen album, I collected bootlegs of The Beach Boys’ “Smile” sessions but never listened to the one that Brian Wilson eventually released a few years ago. This song from The Doors is in that same vein.
There is plenty to choose from as far as rock history’s classic groups are concerned. What makes The Doors appealing to you?
I have a dark poetic past. And Jim Morrison’s poetry always appealed to a teenager that was prone to such flights of fancy. People often laugh at Morrison’s writing today, but I’d argue that he’s a much more interesting figure than what we have nowadays in popular rock music. Then again, I have my doubts that a group like The Doors would be on a label much bigger than something like Sub Pop in 2009. Also appealing to me was the music. It’s hard to overstate how strange and wonderful some of The Doors music sounded when placed alongside their contemporaries. Organ player, flamenco guitarist and jazz drummer and American Poet over top of all of it? And they even wrote some pop songs along the way? Yes, please.
Promomixes was a website conceived by Todd L. Burns. The concept was that DJs do an application tape for a club they would have loved to play at. My choice was Front club in Hamburg, of course. The site had a number of incredible mixes, but is sadly defunct.
Dream 2 Science – My Love Turns To Liquid (Original Mix) (Power Move) Foremost Poets – Reasons To Be Dismal? (City College Mixes) (SBK) Lovechild – Sweet Ambience (Club Mix) (Strictly Rhythm) Logic – The Final Frontier (Acoustic Mix) (Strictly Rhythm) The Utopia Project – File #1 (Nu Groove) Orbital – Chime (JZJ Oh Ya Mix) (FFRR) Circuit Feat. Koffi – Shelter Me (Digital Mix) (Cooltempo) Da Posse – In The Life (Keys Mix) (Republic) Nexus 21 – Self Hypnosis (Network) Heychild – Heychild’s Theme (Network) Nicolette – Single Minded People (Shut Up And Dance) Rhythim Is Rhythim – The Beginning (Transmat) Break The Limits – Hypnotizer (Break The Limits) LFO – LFO (Remix) (Warp) N.Y. House’N Authority – Forty House (Nu Groove) BFC – It’s A Shame (Fragile) Octave One Feat. Lisa Newberry – I Believe (Vice Mix) (Transmat) Baby Ford – The World Is In Love (Dub) (Sire) The Beloved – The Sun Rising (Norty’s Spago Mix) (Atlantic) Electronic – Getting Away With It (Extended) (Factory) Sister Sledge – Thinking Of You (Atlantic)
In discussion with iamelectron on “Don’t Fight It, Feel It” by Primal Scream (1991).
This single is an outtake of Primal Scream’s seminal “Screamadelica” album. What is so important to you about this track that you chose to discuss it, and not the whole album?
The album as a whole is an amazing creation (excuse the pun) but it’s “Don’t Fight It, Feel It” that means the most to me. Every time I hear it I’m back in 1991 and it still gets the hairs standing up. It’s one of those songs that I’ll never be able to disassociate from the state, time or place I was in when I heard it.
How do you have 1991 in mind, especially compared to the years shortly before and after? What made that year special?
The summer of 1991 was a major point in my life. It was when I decided to pack in Art College and give the DJ game a serious go. I’ve been around electronic dance music in one form or another for quite a while. I was, and still am a huge fan of New Order, and some friends and I started a Joy Division/New Order cover band at school called Funeral in Berlin. I had the bass and the pony tail so I was Hooky, haha! Then I got involved in a Goth Disco band. Don’t laugh! We covered Dead or Alive, Sylvester, The Fine Young Cannibals and our Hi-Nrg version of “Jolene” was legendary (to about five people). So I was really into the sound of drum machines and synths. But it wasn’t until I went to Edinburgh Art College in ’89 that house and techno really hit me. I stayed in halls of residence for my first year. In the room around the corner from me was this guy from Aberdeen and he was always with this girl from college that I had the major hots for but was too shy to approach. So one day I went up and introduced myself to him in the hope that he’d introduce me to said lovely lady. I never got the girl, but I did get introduced to Acid House. My new friend lent me copies of “The House Sound of Chicago” and the first Jackmaster compilation, and I was blown away by the rawness of it. So I started hunting down more records. I’d done a few bits of DJ’ing before, playing at indie disco things with a few electronic tracks thrown in; Factory releases, Tackhead, Nitzer Ebb, early Ministry/Revolting Cocks, The Residents that sort of stuff – and now I was sticking in these new House tracks, completely unmixed I must add because I had no concept of how to put two records together at that point. I started to meet more people at college who were into the House scene and we’d head down to nights like UFO; a short lived weekly party in Edinburgh that Optimo’s JD Twitch ran before he created the infamous PURE night (with his DJ partner Brainstorm).
Then in 1990 Glasgow became the European City of Culture and with that came late licensing laws and Atlantis at the Sub Club (with residents Harri and Slam) so we’d head over there and got to catch the first touring DJ’s like the Boys Own and Flying gangs. Then a friend and I started driving down from Scotland to London to go to clubs there. I was being consumed by House! By now I’d completely lost interest in actually getting a degree and to my parent’s dismay I moved back home (home being St Andrews, a very small, very insular University town on the East Coast of Scotland) to ‘take a year out’. I’d unintentionally timed my move with the opening of a night in the nearby city of Dundee called the Rumba Club, and from the spring of 1991 to Christmas of that year it was absolute chaos! During those eight months Weatherall played three times – and on his second visit he dropped “Don’t Fight It, Feel It” as his very last song. I had never heard a reaction to a record like the one he received that night – and I don’t think I’ve heard a reaction like it since. When the whistle noise, stuttering percussion and that wobbly bass line started the place erupted – it was madness!!! I’d love to hear a recording of his set because I’m sure he was mixing both sides; starting with the A side and then moving onto the “Scat Mix”. When that deep, deep, bass noise he briefly uses in the track came on the place went up another gear. So I’m on a packed dance floor going nuts to “Don’t Fight It Feel It”, surrounded by all my friends who are going nuts and whack – epiphany time! Sod college, sod everything else…I want to do what he (Weatherall) is doing! So I left the club that night…“and he was never the same again”. Yip, 1991 and this track will always be really important to me.
Im Gespräch mit Ingo Scheel über “Never Mind The Bollocks Here’s The Sex Pistols” von den Sex Pistols (1977).
Wann und wie war Deine erste Begegnung mit “Never Mind The Bollocks”?
Das war irgendwann im Herbst 1977, ich war 13. Mein bester Kumpel Assi und ich hatten von den Pistols gelesen, von Punk als Phänomen, das fanden wir alles super, aber es gab nirgendwo etwas zu hören. Bis dann Wolf-Dieter Stubel in der “Internationalen Hitparade” auf NDR2 “Holidays in the Sun” spielte. Ich weiß es noch genau, es war im Autoradio, mit meiner Mutter zusammen. Der Song beginnt, das Intro, Rottens Stimme, ich hätte ausrasten können. Die Welt sah sofort anders aus, der Song legte binnen Sekunden einen Schalter in meinem Leben um. Wieder zuhause angekommen rief ich Assi an, er hatte den Song auch gehört und wir konnten nicht fassen, wie gut die Pistols klingen. Zwei Monate nach dieser ersten Begegnung bekomme ich die Platte von Tante Renate zu Weihnachten. Es ist Bescherung, ich packe sie aus. Meine Tante sagt: “Na, nun möchte ich die aber auch mal hören.” Wir gehen in mein grün-weißes Jugendzimmer, ich werfe den orangefarbenen “Wifona Hitmaster” an (kein Scheiß), mach die Platte an. Während ich selbst die ganzen Songs zum ersten Mal und beinah implodiere, sitzt Tantchen auf der Bettkante, zieht an ihrer “Kim” (viel zu zart für Männerhände) und sagt: ” Das klingt ja alles gleich”. Ich sah das natürlich anders. Tantchen ließ mich dann zur Versöhnung an ihrer Zigarette ziehen und wir gingen wieder ins Wohnzimmer zurück. Später hab ich die Platte im Dunkeln noch mehrmals gehört und war zu aufgeregt, um einzuschlafen.
Wie würdest Du das Album beschreiben? Was macht es zu DEM Album für Dich?
Für mich ist es DIE eine Platte, die immer da war. Schlicht und ergreifend. Die Teenager-Jahre sind so prägend, wenn dir in dieser Zeit ein Album auf diese Weise den Kopf abschraubt – das wirst du nie wieder los. Stress in der Schule, nervende Eltern, Pickel, Mädels, der ganze Irrsinn, da waren die Sex Pistols ein erstklassiger Fixpunkt, mein klanggewordener, ausgestreckter Mittelfinger. Der britische Fußballer Stuart Pearce hat einmal gesagt, er hätte „Never Mind The Bollocks“ so oft gehört, es ist mittlerweile in seinen Genen. Das ist natürlich herrlicher Quatsch, aber ich für meinen Teil empfinde genauso.
In discussion with Greg Wilson on “Ball Of Confusion (That’s What The World Is Today)” by The Temptations (1970).
What is your personal history with this particular song and why did you choose it?
I suppose if I was put on the spot and asked to name my favourite all-time singles, this would be one of those that would immediately spring to mind.
My older brother and sister, like many teenagers growing up in the 60’s, regularly bought singles (7″ only in those days of course). They were both into Soul, with Tamla Motown, Stax and Atlantic releases making up the majority of what they owned. These singles gradually fell into my possession and became the foundation of my record collection.
This was one of those records, and the moment I heard it I was awestruck! From the count-in at the start, which I now know was the producer, Norman Whitfield, and the bass line intro, which I now know was a Funk Brother, Bob Babbit, it’s clear that you’re boarding an aural rollercoaster. And then the vocals come in, and what an opening salvo:
“People moving out, people moving in,
Why? Because of the color of their skin,
Run, run, run, but you sure can’t hide…”
We’ve barely started, yet the picture already painted leaves you in no doubt that we’re dealing in harsh realities here. The track is a snapshot of a point in time – with the 60’s moving into the 70’s it reflects the plight of black Americans, disillusioned by the slowness of change when it comes to their personal freedoms, whilst inhabiting a world that’s been changing at breakneck pace. As they try to make sense of the situation they find themselves in, things only become ever more bewildering, the title of the song perfectly capturing the mood of the moment.
Everything about this record is on a higher plane – the song, the vocals, the musicians, the production, it’s a whole crew of people right at the top of their game.
Having made such a strong impression on me, a white boy, I couldn’t begin to imagine how someone who was black would feel listening to this record. Years later I got my answer when interviewing Les Spaine, one of the DJs who inspired me back when I was starting out. This is what he told me:
“The Temptations were God. You waited religiously for any new Temptations record and I think we grew with them, you know. Afros were growing, political awareness was growing. Norman Whitfield, for me, timed it so well because I was reading Eldridge Cleaver, Huey P. Newton, Angela Davis, all those people. I wasn’t a militant, it was just, you know, people were frightened of certain things in America, but what they didn’t realise is that all of a sudden you got an understanding and, hang on, there’s some brothers and sisters here that can do a bit more than running and singing and boxing, which is not degrading. Not putting down any of those three things – that’s what we’re supposed to be good at. All of a sudden, here’s some academics here and the music evolved from just ‘scooby-dooby-do-wah-wah’ to like some of the stuff the Temps were singing. Whitfield got a bit long-winded with seventeen-and-a-half minute tracks with two minutes of vocals but, as a young man, I was really into all that underground… To the majority of the black race, the Temptations were our Beatles. A new Temptations album came out, you bought it and then you listened to it. You didn’t go and sit in the box, because you used to have listening booths then, you just bought it. I always remember, it was really funny, I remember buying ‘Ball Of Confusion’ and I put it on and I left the arm off the machine so that it would go back to it and go back to it, and my dad, who was really one of the most laid back blokes I know, after about two-and-a-half hours of this, must have got fed up of hearing ‘and the band played on’ and just walked into my room, took it off, snapped it and walked off!”
How did you experience the political, social and cultural climate the song reflects?
I was just a kid, aged 10 when this was released, fresh out of primary school, but, despite my obvious naïveté, tracks like this, along with others including Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change Is Gonna Come’, Marvin Gaye’s recording of ‘Abraham, Martin And John’, Edwin Starr’s ‘War’ (another Norman Whitfield / Barrett Strong composition, originally recorded by The Temptations, Starr’s version also produced by Whitfield) and even stuff like ‘Love Child’ by The Supremes and Clarence Carter’s ‘Patches’, really struck a chord with me at the time and got me thinking about deeper issues. This is a perfect illustration of the power of music to inform, although the main connection was on an emotional rather than an intellectual level – Soul music, even when the lyrics weren’t really saying anything poignant, could still affect me in a profound way.
I remember thinking ‘how can these people be treated so badly when they make such wonderful music’. I was certainly aware of the racist (or racialist as they said back then) attitude that black people were somehow lesser than whites – Enoch Powell’s infamous ‘Rivers Of Blood’ speech had taken place a few years earlier and I’d no doubt picked up on the race / immigration debate via the TV, newspapers and overhearing peoples’ conversations on the subject, it was certainly a hot potato of an issue back then.
Although I didn’t know any black people at the time, unlike many others of my age I fortunately wasn’t burdened with the ignorance and prejudice of the previous generation. I never heard any racist remarks from my family, to the contrary, my father was a big boxing fan and his hero was Mohammed Ali (going back to when he was still Cassius Clay), so my own first impression of a black man was totally positive.
I think it was my sister who explained racism to me, and the whole thing crystallized via these remarkable records, which connected with me on a deeper level than the music by white Pop artists (which I was also very much into) because I realized, at a very young age, that this Soul music was tied into a greater struggle.
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