In discussion with Sassy J on “Songs In The Key Of Life” by Stevie Wonder (1976).
I found „Songs In The Key Of Life“ in the record collection of my mother in the 70s and secretly transferred it to my own after listening to it. How did the album find you?
I grew up listening, dancing and singing to this album as a little girl. It was one of the rather few soul records amongst my parents Jazz collection. I made my babysitter put it on. I was singing along the lyrics using my skipping rope as a mic. Oh well… That’s why I picked this record for this interview. I think next to all the Jazz at home “Songs In The Key Of Life” built the firm roots of musical tree of life.
Were interested your parents’ Jazz collection as well, or did the album offered an alternative to what you were used to hearing around the house?
The Jazz records that were playing and Jazz tunes my dad played on the piano was just the music that was mainly there. I remember being scared when Duke Ellington’s „Caravan“ would play, or that I loved to fall asleep to Sarah Vaughn’s voice. The funky clothing or jewelry and style of the musicians that stayed with us stuck with me. I also remember artists performing in our living room on house parties. So I was interested in those other aspects of Jazz at home. When I started getting into Hip-Hop later on, finding out about the samples & originals, I got more interested in their Jazz collection again – up to now. I am still pulling out things.
Some childhood memories are very formative and lasting. Was it important that you were introduced to the album at a young age?
I guess so. It reached out to the little girl in that living room. It triggered the attention of her ears and eventually made me choose it for this particular interview.
Why did you think the album had such on impact on you, and what kind of impact was that?
I liked it and I wanted to hear it over and over again, because it made me feel good. The sound, the groove, the melodies, the moods and of course his voice. Next to all the other music at home, this record surely made me fall in love with music. Music is the love of my life. I couldn’t live without it. That’s a hell of an impact!
I remember that even the format of the album was very special to my fledgling music enthusiast self. There was a lot of music spread over two discs, plus a bonus 7“ and a fat booklet. Even at a time when I did not spend too many thoughts on an album’s background that seemed extraordinary. Does the album justify this grand scope, could it not have been any other way?
Yes, the format added an extra attraction to it. I used to love to sit down, open it, take out the booklet and look at it while the record was playing out and out: the cover art, his signature and fingerprint, all the content of it. The older I got, the more I would discover. Singing along to the lyrics, finding out who was featured on there or who was listed in his thank you’s.
What are the highlights of „Songs In The Key Of Life“ for you? And is it mandatory to swallow it as a whole, or can you skip parts that do not hold up to others?
To me the highlight is the journey you go on, listening the whole record. The cover artwork and title reflect it: Mr. Wonder’s Songs In The Key Of Life. Genius. Timeless. So much to hear and discover. So rich.
Most critics heralded „Songs In The Key Of Life“ as a masterpiece ever since, fewer noted that it is patchy in parts. Not only in terms of songwriting, but also in terms of stylistic diversity. The latter I always found very unfair, as the diversity was always one of the aspects I found most fascinating about the album. Would you agree that this ambitious palette is a pro rather than a con?
I groove, feel, get inspired, sing, dance … to music. I don’t approach it that way. To me the record is genius. It is ONE. No drawers or palettes needed.
It is quite astonishing that Stevie Wonder was only 26 years old when he released „Songs In The Key Of Life“. Yet he signed to Motown when he was 11, and before he started work on the album he even considered quitting the music business for good. So he had a long career going on already. Does this inform the music contained on „Songs In The Key Of Life“? Is this a statement bursting out he could not deliver before? How much artistic freedom is needed for an epic like this?
It is a beautiful thing in life to learn, grow and get better and more experienced in all you do.
I think the beauty in this album lies in the journey he made up to then. On “Songs In The Key Of Life” you can hear his experience, all of his brilliance and essence. It feels so complete, strikingly timeless. A flower, fruit, expression of the genius he is. I believe delivering a record, an epic like this, you need to be yourself to the fullest and complete artistic freedom is needed – else it wouldn’t be that complete. Read the rest of this entry »
The Slits – In The Beginning There Was Rhythm (1980)
At the age of 15, Neneh Cherry was introduced to seminal feminist Post Punk group The Slits by her stepfather Don Cherry, and joined them for a brief period, providing backing vocals on several tracks, including this one. The Slits were integral to the early days of UK’s Punk scene, but they quickly became musically adventurous beyond that and incredibly funky as well, further aided by producer Dennis Bovell’s dub expertise. Edginess was rarely as charming, but The Slits had loads of attitude to boot. One can assume that Neneh Cherry took her clues from the experience.
Rip, Rig & Panic – Those Eskimo Women Speak Frankly (1981)
The next band Cherry joined was a Bristol collective that included two members of the legendary Pop Group. Their music was a feverish mix of Punk Funk, avantgarde elements and Jazz. As with The Slits, Don Cherry was a collaborator, but his stepdaughter was more to the core, switching to lead vocals and displaying the mixture of charismatic Soul and Rap stylings that would make her famous later on. But before that, Neneh Cherry briefly retired to become a young mother, and the band fell apart. In 1983 the band reformed with Neneh Cherry under the name Float Up CP, and released one album, then fell apart again. But if you find a band in those years with a constant line-up, it might have been dull anyway. Rip Rig & Panic sure were not.
Raw Sex, Pure Energy – Give Sheep A Chance (1982)
After collaborating with On-U Sound’s mighty New Age Steppers, Cherry teamed up with its bass guitarist George Oban and the drummer of 70s Fusion Jazz band Karma, Joe Blocker. They covered Edwin Starr’s Motown standard „Stop The War Now“ in reaction to the Falklands War, and „Give Sheep A Chance“ is its wonderful icy computerized dub version on the flip, sheep noises included. In the years leading up to the next entry, Neneh Cherry also became a pirate radio DJ, danced in a Big Audio Dynamite video, and duetted marvellously on The The’s „Slow Train To Dawn“.
Neneh Cherry – Buffalo Stance (1988)
Neneh Cherry, the pop star. Seven months pregnant with her second child but rampant with energy, she performed this ever infectious song on Top Of The Pops and stormed the top ten. „Buffalo Stance“ was referencing Malcolm McLaren’s Gals, stylist Ray Petri’s fashionable collective, and was in fact a cover version of a Stock, Aitken & Waterman produced single by her future husband Cameron McVey from two years earlier, where she already rapped about „Looking Good Diving With The Wild Bunch“ on the B-side. And the famed Bristol sound system was indeed involved with the accompanying „Raw Like Sushi“ solo debut album, as were McVey and Tim Simenon of Bomb The Bass fame at the controls. In 1988 Hip Hop and House still looked at each other and the UK club scene was vibrant, as documented by magazines like I-D, The Face and Blitz. Neneh Cherry was styled by Judy Blame and photographed by Jena-Baptiste Mondino rather iconically, but underlying were lyrics that dissed gigolos and moneymen and celebrated female self-esteem. So don’t you get fresh with her!
Neneh Cherry – Manchild (1988)
Neneh Cherry telling the boys some more news (albeit with a bit more sympathy), in a fantastic downtempo song co-written by Cameron McVey and Robert Del Naja AKA 3D of The Wild Bunch, and soon-to-be Massive Attack (fellow member of both Mushroom provided a booming remix). In the rather weird video she proudly sports her now born second child Tyson and a further refined fly girl outfit with a pair of cycle shorts that were de rigeur in 1989. Ok, men mostly wore the matching cycle tops. The „cause I believe in miracles, words in heavy doses“ ending still rules supreme.
Neneh Cherry – I’ve Got You Under My Skin (1990)
This a contribution to „Red, Hot & Blue“, an AIDS charity compilation on which several artists covered Cole Porter songs. AIDS was still spreading fast, and given the topic the title is very well picked, with Neneh Cherry rapping an introduction that makes it very clear that it is not only love creeping through the body, but also very lethal disease. The heavy and brooding downbeat groove already foreshadows Massive Attack’s „Blue Lines“ album, to which she would also contribute. The video by Mondino is appropriately dark, without any misplaced pretensions. „Share the love, don’t share the needle“, it ends.
Neneh Cherry – Buddy X (1992)
Lifted from her second album „Homebrew“, Cherry again adresses men that like to play around, wrapping her criticism of male hypocrisy and infidelity with fetching Hip Hop pressure. The song still features prominently in club playlists due to its Class A Masters At Works remixes. At the height of their powers they apply their raw swing to a groove that most successfully merges Hip Hop and House sophistication, without ever distracting from the message. Deadly dubs, too.
Youssou N’Dour & Neneh Cherry – 7 Seconds (1994)
Neneh Cherry collaborates with the famous Senegalese singer for a moving celebration of humanity without prejudice. By then the combination of a downbeat and dramatic strings had almost become stereotypical, but the trilingual „7 Seconds“ still proves why it became so efficient in the first place. First, you need a good song. Second, you need good performers. Third, you will see that the tried and tested arrangement will even up the ante. The stylish monochromatic video was directed by Stéphane Sednaoui, and it works.
Neneh Cherry & The Thing – Dream Baby Dream (2012)
Neneh Cherry works with a Scandinavian Jazz trio that named itself after her stepfather. She was a longtime Scandinavian resident and Jazz has a healthy tradition there, it should not have come as a surprise. But after a long hiatus from recording music, it was. The resulting album consisted mainly of well chosen cover versions that seem to stand for Cherry’s whole life in music. They are interpreted quite freely, and Cherry still delivers. Take her version of Suicide‘s No Wave classic „Dream Baby Dream“ for example. In my ears it rather sounds like her very early days than former pop star croons the standards for Christmas.
Neneh Cherry – Everything (2014)
The overdue comeback as solo performer, with an album of material that mourns the death of her mother in 2009. Four Tet is at the helm, and his sparse production focusses on rhythmic textures and subtle electronic arrangements, performed by Rocketnumbernine. The album decidedly neglects pop obligations and Neneh Cherry is evidently very motivated, and even if her songs here are very personal, they sure are engaging as well. The remixers on duty for „Everything“, Ricardo Villalobos and Max Loderbauer, must have agreed, as they already let the song seep into their trademark Micro House jam setup after only two and a half minutes.
That’s rather hard to say; I believe I first heard Funkadelic… early 70’s? Seems as though I remember hearing “Maggot Brain” as my introduction to their music? And it would most probably have been at a party; maybe a cousin’s house or on a military base at a function? Don’t really know. However I seem to remember that piece first: I certainly had no idea what or who it was? At the time I thought the label art was somehow the band’s responsibility, therefore I would buy records according to the artwork; if I was at a friend’s house and they had something I liked I would go to the record store, usually with my father, and look for the same artwork and buy the record (we’re talking 7″ singles here). Needless to say it was often not what I was looking for. However, rarely did I return anything! This is how I ended up finding out about Led Zeppelin at age 5 or 6. I was looking for Rare Earth. When I finally witnessed Funkadelic’s artwork first-hand it cemented my high regard for their overall “thang”!
Was it a part of your childhood and youth in California?
There was a very strong and rich musical culture in our house. Every morning before school we were allowed to listen to music (no TV, only on Saturday mornings) that we selected from an extensive record collection procurred over previous decades and life in Kansas, Philadelphia, St. Louis and Poplar Bluff Missouri, Osaka, and wherever else our parents had been on their journeys with the military. This included 78 rpm shellac discs and 7″ children’s records recorded at 16 rpm. Father always loved Jazz and has an extensive collection of Blue Note recordings from the label’s inception until around 1970 something. Errol Garner was a big favourite, Booker T. & the MG’s. I did not really get into Jazz though until much later, though I liked Errol Garner! The rest was boring to me then. “Shotgun” and “Green Onions” I liked a lot but until this day I can’t stand James Brown for example?! Only one song that I can’t remember the title of, from around 1958. Mother was into Gospel and female vocal performers such as Morgana King, Dinah Washington, Mahalia Jackson, Dakota Stanton, Aretha of course, also some guys like Major Lance and Joe Simon both of whom I still love today. This collection still exists, excerpts of which you can hear in a set I uploaded to soundcloud.com/eric-d-clark under the moniker “The OZ Effect”. When I’d go looking for what I liked and tried to share it with them it was not met well. They tried to form me with classical which I found to be very little of a challenge, especially as I could trick the teachers by learning pieces twice or even three times as fast by listening to them on vinyl (my component stereo system was right on top of the piano next to my father’s AKAI reel-to-reel, which he bought in Osaka three years before I was born and I adopted; when I am at our house in Sacramento I still use this machine!). Funkadelic were strictly off-limits (very enticing) but I kept the records anyway, even though they were considered to be devil music by Mom and Dad. I was still under ten? Read the rest of this entry »
The first one is by Rinder and Lewis – “Lust”, which is kind of a space disco prototype so to say. For 1977 it was kind of a landmark record I guess.
For 1977, yes. I suppose Rinder and Lewis were a very prolific production team in the 70s and 80s. They made an awful lot of records, a lot of albums. That’s probably one of their most moody tracks. A lot of their stuff has got a 1920s, big band, Charleston influence to it. But I like a lot of their stuff. But some of it is unusual in its arrangement. That one’s got a slightly more mystical vibe to it.
Would you say they tried to explore their field a bit further with this record? You mentioned that a few of the other productions had certain influences, like the latin stuff for example. But this one is really something different, almost science fiction.
Yes, but that’s quite different from the rest of the “Seven Deadly Sins” album. I reckon it wasn’t a track that was made to be a hit. It was probably considered an album track. But with that weird bit in the middle with the glockenspiel, it goes into a sort of devil bit about two thirds of the way through. Which is very out of character with the rest of the record. But what I think is interesting about that is that you don’t get those sort of unexpected bits in records now. I guess when musicians are making records, it’s very different to when DJs are making records. Now, when DJs make records they just tend to have the same stuff going throughout the track, it just loops round and round. Maybe there might be some changes, but there’s nothing drastic coming in really loud. A bad DJ produced record might just be a bit boring, whereas a bad record from the 70s might have a great verse and a really terrible chorus. Or you might have something really cheesy. A lot of records now are just rhythm tracks made by DJs for mixing and whatever, whereas then you might have records that have got loads in them, maybe too much. But the reason that they’re not great is maybe because they’ve got too much in them. They might have some great musical parts, but the vocals are crap. I think I’m digressing a little bit. A lot of Rinder and Lewis stuff – have you got that album “Discognosis”?
No, I know the THP Orchestra stuff which I found really good.
Yeah, and there’s El Coco and Le Pamplemousse. I like that track. It’s always very well orchestrated, they always had a bit of money to make the records. It wasn’t done on a shoestring budget, they must have sold pretty well. I think El Coco’s “Cocomotion” is one of my favourites by them as well. Obviously a lot of the stuff on AVI was produced by them, they were putting out a lot of music. They must have lived in the studio in 76, 77, 78, 79.
This is also a really good example for what you can do if you’re a good arranger – the arrangements they did are really complex and beautiful. Is that something you miss? You talked of modern rhythm tracks and functionality – I think it’s hard to pull off these days because you don’t have budgets for studio work…
Yeah of course. I suppose you have to think, this is now and that was then. Record sales were much higher, I suppose disco was like r’n’b was 5 years ago in terms of its worldwide popularity. So there was a lot more money, obviously there weren’t downloads or people copying CDs. I don’t know what the sales figures were like of something like Rinder and Lewis, but it probably sold half a million or something like that. It’s a completely different time, in terms of being able to get a string section in for your record. I’ve paid for string sections before, but to be honest with you what I’ve found is a string section with 30-40 people is so different to a string section with 7 or 8 people. I’ve only been able to afford 6 or 7 people. It isn’t really a string section! Nowadays, with CD-ROMs and whatever you can make something that sounds pretty good – not the same – but pretty good with just samples. To really make it sound a lot better, you need a 30-40 piece, big room orchestra. People at Salsoul and a lot of them classic disco records had that big proper string arrangement. Also, paying someone to do the arrangement isn’t cheap if you get someone good. Very difficult to do that now. So yeah, I do miss it. But there’s no point missing something, it’s like saying “Oh, I wish they were still making Starsky and Hutch”.
As long as a glimpse of an orchestra won’t do, it doesn’t make sense?
I think the only it could make sense is if George Michael decides to make a disco album, or someone like that. He could afford it. Or Beyonce. Some big star. But your average dance record – I suppose Jamiroquai had some live strings on some of his stuff. But then again, he was selling a lot of records.
Doobie Brothers – What A Fool Believes (Warner Bros. Inc., 1979)
“What a Fool Believes” by the Doobie Brothers, which is a merger of rock and disco.
There’s other tracks, like the Alessi Brothers “Ghostdancer”… I suppose that just shows how popular disco music must have been at the time when people like The Doobie Brothers and Carly Simon were actually making disco records. I suppose it’s the same as nowadays people making a record with a more r’n’b type beat. Or at the beginning of house music, there were lots of pop acts making house records. I was listening to a best of ABBA a few years ago. It started off sort of glam-rock, sort of sweet, like Gary Glitter, that sort of production. And by the late seventies their stuff had got pretty disco-ey. And by 82 it was folky. So I think the disco beat was just featuring on a lot of productions by acts who just wanted to make a contemporary sounding record. That’s probably why a lot of the American rock establishment hated disco so much. It wasn’t just that it was there: their favourite acts were making disco records! They hated the fact the Rolling Stones made disco records, it just wasn’t allowed.
But the thing is, that when the disco boom ended, a lot of the rock acts who made disco records acted like they never did! They deserted it pretty quickly.
Yeah, once it became uncool they pretended they never liked it, it wasn’t their idea and all that. I tried to once do a compilation album of that sort of stuff. But it’s too difficult to license it all. They’re all on major labels, they’re all big acts, and it’s very hard to license that stuff. In fact I’d go as far as to say it’s impossible: just too difficult and expensive.
Was it just because of budget reasons, or because the acts didn’t want to be reminded of what they did in that area?
I think often those big acts have to approve every compilation album license. A lot of the time, for the people who work in the compilation album license department, it’s easier for them to say no than to write to the management of Supertramp or Queen. And often, if they do see a title that has disco in it, they will say no. And a lot of them won’t license the Rolling Stones to a comp that’s got a projected sales figure of less than half a million. There’s so many reasons why it’s problematic. You could do it, but you’d have to leave off so many tracks, there would hardly be any point doing it. I did have a chat with a major label about doing it and that was one that owned quite a lot of them. But it’s just so difficult. They want to see a big marketing budget, they want to see you spend a hundred grand on television adverts. Otherwise they just go, why are we on this compilation album?
I think it’s a shame really, there were so many good disco records done by major artists…
Yeah. I like a lot of those things. I’m doing this compilation for BBE which is maybe a similar thing, just it’s not all well known acts. People like Fleetwood Mac, they did that track “Keep On Going”, those sort of things. I guess it’s blue-eyed rocky soul. Quite danceable… it’s not all disco, but it’s not really rock either. More black music based. I always think, if you look at the back of a rock album and it’s got someone playing bongos on it, it’s worth checking out. Read the rest of this entry »
Es gibt sicherlich etliche Wege um auf die Musik von Soft Cell zu stoßen. Wie war es bei Dir?
“Tainted Love” kam ja im Sommer 1981 raus und hat mich, als ich es im Radio gehört habe, sofort fasziniert. Das stach irgendwie heraus. Ähnlich wie früher “I Feel Love” oder Kraftwerk. Das machte im Hit-Radio plötzlich eine ganz neue Welt auf. Zwar gab es schon Bands, die ähnlich agierten und klangen, aber die waren zumindest in Österreich nur in Spezialsendungen wie “Musicbox” zu hören. Aber Soft Cell konnte ich sogar vor dem Weg in die Schule beim Frühstück aus dem Radio hören. Das ist ja auch etwas anderes, als wenn du dir selber Musik auflegst. Solche Pop-Momente kannst du nicht selber initiieren. “Tainted Love” war dann auch die erste Single, die ich mir wirklich mit so einem nicht mehr ganz so schwammigen Pop-Bewusstsein gekauft habe. Das war ein regelrechter Akt. Sonst hab ich entweder auf die LPs gewartet oder mir die Sachen einfach vom Radio aufgenommen. Dann kam “Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret”. Allein der Titel zog mich an. Der hatte so was Verruchtes, aber auch so einen Gossenglamour, der gut zu meinen sonstigen Vorlieben (Throbbing Gristle, D.A.F., Velvet Underground, Prince, Suicide, The Stooges) passte. Ausschlaggebend war dann die “Sounds”-Kritik von Kid P., wo über “Vaudeville-Tingel-Tangel”, “grelle Schminke und grosse Gefühle”, “kleine Hollywood-Dramen”, “keine saubere Teeny-Fun-Musik” geschrieben wurde. Interessanterweise gab es die LP dann in dem einzigen Laden in Salzburg, der eine kleine Abteilung mit “Punk”/”New Wave” hatte, nicht. Also ging ich in ein klassisches Plattengeschäft, wo ich die LP dann auch gleich fand. Was ja auch toll war. Komische Platten in komischen Läden kaufen ist das eine, komische Platten in sozusagen “normalen” Läden kaufen ist schon was anderes. Das hat durchaus was leicht Subversives. Gerade weil es um eine dezidierte Pop-Platte ging, die ich nun quasi heimlich in einem anderen Laden kaufte. Etwa so wie wenn das Päckchen, das auf dem Cover Marc Almond aus seiner Lederjacke zieht, abgeholt werden würde.
Warum hast Du Dir “Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret” ausgesucht? Was macht das Album für Dich so besonders?
So pathetisch das jetzt auch klingen mag: Ich habe damit endgültig das Land Pop betreten. Und zwar im Hier und Jetzt. Die Wege dorthin waren schon angelegt worden, aber so aktuell Girl-Groups, Phil Spector, Glam, die Walker Brothers, Frank Sinatra und Dean Martin für mich damals auch waren, so sehr tönten sie dennoch aus einer Pop-Vergangenheit. Und bei Soft Cell kam einfach ganz viel zusammen. Vieles, was noch in einer Art wabbrigem Vorbewussten schlummerte, wurde nun klarer und konnte auch benannt werden. Aber es gab auch viel Neues zu entdecken. Sachen, die erst später wichtiger wurden wie Almonds Queerness oder die Connections zur Industrial-Szene. Auch wenn das 1981/82 nicht wirklich im Focus meiner Begeisterung war. Da war es das Opulente plus dem Elektronischen, die durchgängige Tanzbarkeit (die ich nicht erwartet hatte) und dieses Geheimnisvolle. Popmusik mit einer gewissen sublimen Gefährlichkeit. Eher Shangri-Las plus Velvet Underground. Die Platte hat sich durch Jahre hindurch immer wieder fast von selber retroaktiviert und wuchert immer noch über sich selbst hinaus. Auch wenn ich mal länger Abstinenz gehalten habe, hat sich dennoch was getan. Mit Soft Cell hab ich mich dann auch endgütig den großen Pop-Dramen und den in Musik gegossenen Tragödien hingegeben. Was nicht immer auf Verständnis stoß. Aber war mir auch immer Roy Orbison lieber als Nick Cave. Ich hatte durch und mit Soft Cell einen Schatz gefunden, eine Art Geheimnis entdeckt. Die Beschäftigung mit Pop nahm ernsthaftere Züge an. Zudem wollte ich ja auch irgendwie kapieren von was Leute wie Diederichsen bei “Sounds” schrieben, wenn es um so was wunderbar Faszinierendes wie auch hin und wieder Einschüchterndes wie “Pop-Diskurs” ging. Gerade weil Soft Cell überall in den Hitparaden waren und aus fast jedem Radio tönten, also auch vom Mainstream gehört wurden, empfand ich mein clandestines Popgeheimwissen in Sachen Soft Cell schon als Hipness. Weniger im Sinne einer elitären Haltung – ich freute mich ja mit anderen, und dachte auch, jetzt wird es was in Sachen Pop und Revolution, wenn auch nur musikalisch – als eines elitären Wissens. Vielleicht ist das ja auch das immer noch Wichtige an “Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret”: Eine Platte die genau zwischen Teenage und Adoleszenz, zwischen einfach als Fan reinfallen und beginnendem reflexiven Popdenken auf einen zugekommen ist. Mit der es aber auch nie ein Erwachsenwerden geben wird. Wo das Aufgekratzte, nach dem Uplifting, nach der Party zwar reduziert, aber nie ad acta gelegt wird. Zudem waren Soft Cell die einzigen, die das ABBA-T-Shirt von Throbbing Gristles Chris Carter ernstgenommen haben.
Dass ich eigene Lost Weekend-Erfahrungen in “Clubland” in Songs wie “Bedsitter” wieder fand, war aber auch super.
Im Gespräch mit Stefan Goldmann über “Devotion” von John McLaughlin (1972).
Was ist Deine persönliche Verbindung zu John McLaughlin? Wie und wann bist Du auf ihn gestoßen?
Als ich 14-15 war und meine Ferien wie immer in Sofia verbrachte, war plötzlich Jazz das ganz große Thema bei meinen Freunden dort. Die anderen waren 2-4 Jahre älter als ich und ich ließ mich gerne beeinflussen. Als ich z. B. 9 war, kam ich so zu Iron Maiden, dann zu Led Zeppelin und Pink Floyd, und schließlich kam ich eines Sommers wieder und die waren alle ganz versessen auf das, was sie für Jazz hielten. Also Hauptsache virtuos – da wurde dann John Coltrane genau so gehört wie Al Di Meola oder die Chick Corea Elektric Band. Der Name McLaughlin fiel da auch schnell. Zurück in Berlin ging ich also zum Virgin Megastore und schaute mir die Kassetten an. Das war das Format, das mich interessierte, weil ich keinen eigenen Plattenspieler hatte, dafür aber einen Ghettoblaster und einen Walkman. Im Laden hatten sie die “Devotion” sowie die “Love Devotion Surrender” mit Carlos Santana. Sonst nichts. Als angehender Jazz-Snob hab ich natürlich die „Devotion“ mitgenommen und mich nicht mit irgendwelchen Rockern aufgehalten. Interessanterweise war dieses Tape die Lizenzausgabe von Celluloid, was später eines der wichtigsten Labels für mich werden sollte. Es hatte dieses super Coverdesign von Thi-Linh Le, der die ganzen legendären Celluloid-Cover in den 80ern gemacht hat. Ich kam hier also gleich mit zwei sehr wesentlichen Dingen in Berührung. Als ich damals auf einer Skifahrt in Tschechien war, konnte ich damit ganz gut die Mädchen beeindrucken, weil das selbst für die offenkundig so viel besser war als der Spaß-Punk, den die anderen Jungs dabei hatten.
McLaughlin war ja an sehr vielen bedeutenden Alben beteiligt. Warum hast Du Dir “Devotion” ausgesucht?
Gut, allein die ganzen Miles Davis Platten, auf denen er mitspielt sind eh der Wahnsinn. „Bitches Brew“ ist für mich sicherlich das bedeutendste Album überhaupt. Nur ist “Devotion” für mich einerseits der Einstieg gewesen, anderseits ist es in mehreren anderen Aspekten wirklich bemerkenswert: Es ist ein Album, das jemand in ein bestehendes Genre hineingesetzt hat – und dieses völlig übertroffen hat. Das ist ein wichtiger Beleg, das so etwas möglich ist. Es gibt immer diesen riesigen Vorteil, der Erste zu sein, der etwas Bestimmtes macht. Also ich denke da an Jeff Mills oder Plastikman, die einfach als erste wahrnehmbar ein kompositorisches Niveau erreicht haben in einer Musik, die vorher eher nur raue Energie war. Solche Leute haben auf Jahrzehnte einen Vorteil gegenüber jedem, der erst später dazukommt. Es ist ein zentrales künstlerisches Problem, wenn man innerhalb irgendeiner bestehenden Kunstform arbeiten will: was kann ich eigentlich noch beitragen? Die Möglichkeiten sind halt entweder den Rahmen zu dehnen oder es einfach deutlich besser zu machen als alle Anderen. Und Letzteres hat McLaughlin mit “Devotion” einfach gemacht. Da kommt einer aus England nach New York und nimmt den kompletten Laden auseinander. Die “Devotion” ist der klanggewordene feuchte Traum jedes Hendrix-Fans, nur das Hendrix das nie hingekriegt hat. Auch nicht mit “Band Of Gypsies”. Da kulminiert Etwas, was die ganze Zeit als Erwartung in der Luft lag, nur von Niemandem vorher eingelöst werden konnte. Dieses Energieniveau war einfach damals unbekannt. Und sehr viele spätere Sachen fußen darauf – sowie auf Lifetime, der Tony Williams Band mit McLaughlin und Larry Young.
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.
im Gespräch mit Michael Kummermehr über “Alfie” von Burt Bacharach (1966).
Kannst Du Dich noch daran erinnern, wann Du das erste Mal bewusst Burt Bacharach gehört hast?
Ja, ich glaube das müsste im öffentlich-rechtlichen Fernsehen vor der Kabelfernsehzeit gewesen sein. Als ich ein Kind war, Mitte/Ende der 70er, lief „Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid“ mit Robert Redford und Paul Newman. Einer der Westernklassiker, den man aber als Kind komisch findet, weil die Cowboys auch Fahrrad fahren und oft verliebt sind. Besonders “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head”, von Billy Joe Thomas gesungen, ist einer der Radiohits, die man schon als Sechsjähriger im Ohr hat, was einen aber noch nicht zum erklärten Bacharach-Fan macht. Allein deshalb, weil man in dem Alter glaubt, dass der Sänger seine Lieder da im Radio selber macht. Ich denke, wer Burt Bacharach ist, habe ich im Ansatz erst in den frühen 90ern verstanden. In der Spex gab eine Rubrik namens „Legendäre Typen“ (die Spex war damals noch ein reines Herzblutprodukt und heute vergleichbar mit einem gut gemachten Blog, also in Themenauswahl und Meinungsmachertum sehr subjektiv, sehr unberechenbar, oft gewagt und fast ebenso oft gewinnend charmant). Diese Reihe handelte von einflussreichen Über-Kreativen wie Arthur Baker, Tony Wilson und… Burt Bacharach – Ein Hugh Hefner mit Steinway Flügel. Das war ungefähr zu der Zeit als, die Interpretationen von „Look Of Love“ von Wild Bunch und „Say a Little Prayer“ von Bomb The Bass herauskamen.
Übrigens: Wenn man alte Tapes von Soul II Soul oder Wild Bunch Warehouse Parties der späten 80er und frühen 90er hört, ist man erstaunt, dass da 60ies-Instrumentals von Schifrin, so wie den Ventures oder Shadows liefen. Der Name Bacharach fiel mir auch immer auf, wenn wir auf der A61 von Ludwigshafen nach Köln gefahren sind: Dann passierte man die Autobahnausfahrt Bacharach. Ein Städtchen am Rhein im Kreis Mainz Bingen. Bestimmt süß und gutes Essen gibt es da sicher auch. Ich war noch nie da.
Bacharach hat unzählige Klassiker geschrieben. Warum hast Du Dich für “Alfie” entschieden? Was macht den Song so speziell für Dich?
Haha! Frage 2 und schon kommt die rhetorische Frage. Meine Frau und ich haben uns den – jedenfalls kommt es meinen Eltern so vor – bourgeois-exzentrischen Luxus erlaubt, unseren Sohn Alfie zu nennen, ohne Zweitnamen und andere Tricks. Im Standesamt in Pankow, wo ich die Geburtsurkunde abgeholt habe, war deswegen auch echt “High Life”. Die Bediensteten fanden Vor- und Nachnamen einfach oberniedlich. Die Damen um die 50 hatten Tränen der Rührung in den Augen, bevor es Schlag 11.30 in die Mittagspause ging. Meine Frau Andrea kam auf die Idee, Alfie, Alfie zu nennen. Sie fand das Lied schön und wollte einen englischen Namen, den man im Deutschen so aussprechen kann, wie man ihn liest. Weil wir eine Erinnerung an unsere schöne Zeit in London haben wollten und weil unser Kind auf keinen Fall einen dieser Kollwitzplatz-Namen bekommen sollte, Luca oder wie die alle heißen. – Ich meine, Luca oder Leon sind absolut süße Namen, auch diese bildungsbürgerlichen altdeutschen Namen sind spitze, aber deren Individualisierungstauglichkeit geht vor unserer Haustür leider gegen Null.- Ich muss noch immer an diese Vorlesung in Rechtsphilosophie denken, in der Professor Pawlowski den Hegelschen Weltgeist erklärt hat. Er meinte (das ist 17 Jahre her), dass in zehn Jahren Namen en vogue seien werden, die wir heute (also damals) als unpassend empfinden, und dass dann die zukünftige (also die heutige) Mehrheit, diese Namen als sehr schön und würdig für die eigenen Kinder empfinden würde. Dass also die Mehrheit bzw. die Welt durchdrungen von dem Geist sei, ihren Kindern solche Namen zu geben. Das sei mehr als Gruppenzwang und mehr als Mode. Ich fand es ein bisschen unheimlich. OK…zurück zur Frage. Wir fanden das Lied so gut, dass wir uns gegen den herrschenden Weltgeist gestemmt haben.
Der New Yorker Club The Saint wird wohl für alle Zeiten der wahnwitzigste Ort schwuler Clubkultur bleiben. Tausende bedingungslos hedonismusbereiter Tänzer wogten jedes Wochenende unter der gigantischen Donnerkuppel, von der aus die damaligen harten DJ-Hunde in minutiös tradierten Dramaturgien ihre Zwölfstundenschichten schoben. Das einzige musikalische Gebot war eine kollektive emotionale Reizüberflutung, und jede Musik die das auslösen konnte wurde als Geschenk Gottes zelebriert. In dieser Umgebung gediehen nicht nur die prototypischen Marschflugkörper von Hi-NRG, sondern auch absurde Tränendrücker, die zum Engtanz in den Sleaze-Morgenstunden als große Oper inszeniert wurden. Als alle Resident-DJs 1988 den Club in einer mehrtägigen Abschlussorgie zu Grabe trugen, wimmelte es in den Sets nur so vor unverschlüsselten Botschaften, großen Emotionen und sehr persönlichen musikalischen Abschiedsgrüßen, die der damaligen Crowd noch bis heute als unverrückbarer Kloß im Hals stecken müssen. Robbie Leslie hatte die Ehre des letzten Sets, und dies ist seine Wahl für die letzte Platte gewesen. Ein merkwürdiger Discoschieber, der sich mit billig klingenden Syntheziserklängen an die klassische Soul-Ära klammerte, als diese schon längst vorbei war. Ein hymnischer Soul-Song, der sich überhaupt nicht die Produktionsmittel leisten konnte um so klingen zu können wie er in einer idealen Welt hätte klingen sollen. Ein Sänger, dessen Ruhmeszeit bei Tamla-Motown in solch einem unzulänglichen Gewand enden musste. Und doch, wie bei so vielen anderen obskuren Rare Soul-Evergreens, legen sich alle Beteiligten so ins Zeug, als könnte dieser eine der letzte Song sein, den sie jemals aufnehmen können. Die vage Hoffnung auf eine bessere Karrierewindung, der Trotz aber auch sich gegen die unterschwellige Erkenntnis aufzulehnen, dass hinter der nächsten Kurve nichts mehr kommt. Robbie Leslie hat aus diesem schönen, aber auch unscheinbaren Küken im Edit einen Weißkopfseeadler werden lassen, indem er nichts anderes gemacht hat, als den Refrain mit den Ohrwurmflächen im Hintergrund endlos anzuteasen, und dann in periodischen Abständen voll loszulassen. Sein Arrangement ist kein Deut exklusiver als der Song selbst, aber die Wirkung ist schockierend. Da kann man sich noch so sträuben. Und was blieb als Botschaft, mit der die Saint-Familie für immer in die kalte Realität zurückgestoßen wurde? „So hold on, to my love, I’m nothing, and I can’t get along without you. You’re the light of my life. There’s no living without your love. Nobody’s taking your place. But for you, but for me, our love would live on for the whole world to see.”
Du bist zurück mit einem neuen Album, und es ist randvoll mit Referenzen an 80er-Electric Funk, Prince-Rhythmuspattern, Motown-Melodien. Wie ist es dazu gekommen?
Ich glaube das war ein Nebenprodukt davon in Neuseeland zu leben und diesen Sound zu vermissen, weil er sehr präsent in Detroit war. Es gibt viele entsprechende Radioshows, Clubs wo diese Art Musik gespielt wird, Fernsehshows. Ich habe diesen Sound vermisst, weil er in Neuseeland nicht besonders groß ist. Auch älter werden und sich an die Kindheit erinnern. Es spielt auch Nostalgie mit dabei, sich hinzusetzen und zu beschließen einen Prince-Sound nachzubilden und das ganze Programm.
Den Funk zurückbringen.
Ja, genau. Der Sound hat mir gefehlt, es war ein bisschen zu meinem eigenen Vergnügen. Read the rest of this entry »
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