Wednesday, January 2, 2019
DJ Ladies - (2016) I Have Been Sent By God to Eat That Ass Mixtape CDr
Wonderland Media, LLC – none FLAC
60 Minute mixtape featuring "DJ" mixes of tracks by T.A.T.U., Backstreet Boys, Nelly, Shaggy, Samantha Mumba, and More. Never released previously, probably for good reason. I actually tried to post it on Datpiff back in the day but they wouldn't let me post it until I told them I was bipolar and by that point I lost interest.
tUnE-yArDs - (2011) W H O K I L L
4AD – 3106
Whatever lines and boundaries between musical styles might be left, it’s likely that tUnE-yArDs’ genre-hopping, gender-bending one-woman-band Merrill Garbus has already crossed them. Lo-fi folk, avant-jazz instrumentation, dubby funk beats, Afropop shimmy, soulful R&B vocals, hip-hop attitude, riot grrrl politicking—they’re all present and accounted for in Garbus’ seemingly bottomless bag of tricks. Indeed, Garbus puts you on notice that she pushing the limits right from the beginning of tUnE-yArDs’ compelling sophomore effort w h o k i l l on the opener “My Country ‘Tis of Thee”, which serves both as a pledge of allegiance to her hybrid aesthetic and as a preface of things to come: Taking its patriotic namesake and twisting it into “The National Anthem”—just Radiohead’s version—Garbus transforms what’s so familiar that it’s etched into the memory of every schoolchild into improvisational pop experimentation, freestyling on lines known by heart and adorning them with what sounds like a kazoo refrain, freaked-out horns, and bottom-heavy rhythms. It goes to show how Garbus’ music-without-borders approach carves out a niche for itself, creating something out of unlikely and improbable combinations that could only come from a singular imagination.
With a crisper, clearer production that helps it to stand out, w h o k i l l is, almost literally speaking, tUnE-yArDs’ breakthrough: This latest effort finds Garbus busting out of the claustrophobic confines of tUnE-yArDs’ resourceful, homemade debut, BiRd-BrAiNs, with a fuller, more dynamic sound that accentuates how she can hit the highs, the lows, and all the emotional registers in between. While that might seem to describe an album that’s all over the place, there’s still something consistent, coherent, and unified about w h o k i l l, with Garbus like a steadying force in the eye of the storm. The album’s first single, “Bizness”, offers a good sampling of all that the new-and-improved tUnE-yArDs are capable of, mixing and matching a little riff that recalls Konono No. 1’s patented likembe thumb-piano patterns, crisp jazz percussion, and Garbus’ androgynous vocals at their fiercest. Better yet, “Gangsta” one-ups the fevered pitch that “Bizness” hits, especially when it reaches a frenzied state in a cacophonous symphony of skronky brass, clattering beats, and melodic bass. There, Garbus is a kindred soul of Björk’s, if not so much in sound as in spirit, rallying an army of me all her own.
As back-asswards as it might seem, the bigger canvas that Garbus has to work with on w h o k i l l actually brings out the intimacy and immediacy of her one-of-a-kind music, using all the tools at her disposal to make her personal vision seem all the more vivid and vibrant. The best point of comparison for tUnE-yArDs might be one-time tourmates Dirty Projectors, whose world-influenced approach might provide the closest thing to a touchstone to what Garbus is doing: But while Dirty Projectors are more heavy on affect in their pursuit of pop perfection, tUnE-yArDs are more about expressing unbridled feeling and getting the music to capture it. The slow-burning “Powa” takes time to pick up momentum, but it’s remarkably contemplative and harrowing when it does, as Garbus’ voice moves from a whisper to a growl to reflect the inner turmoil and self-esteem issues that are the baggage of dysfunctional relationships (“Mirror, mirror on the wall / Do I see my face at all?”). On the other end of the emotional spectrum, “Wooly Wolly Gong” gives Garbus all the space she needs to find peace, as her versatile voice almost seems to channel Suzanne Vega on a lullaby that’s only embellished by quiet guitar and sparse percussion. So even if Garbus’ musical fireworks are what you notice first, there’s always something substantial to her idiosyncratic style.
And that goes double for the social consciousness tUnE-yArDs display on w h o k i l l—when they say the personal is political, that certainly applies to Garbus’ songs, which ponder bigger issues without being preachy or pretentious. As suggested by the title, violence is a running theme on the album, which the eerie psychodrama of “Riotriot” treats in ways that are messily Freudian (“You came to put handcuffs on my brother / Down in the alley way / I dreamt of making love to you”) and philosophically profound (“There is a freedom in violence I don’t understand”). Even more compelling is the briskly paced “Doorstep”, which seems pretty and ethereal enough to float over your head, except that its first lines cut to the chase about police brutality—“Policeman shot my baby as he crossed over my doorstep.” Finding strength in her own voice, no matter how resigned she may be about what’s happening around her, Garbus speaks truth to power later on the track when she croons as soulfully as she can, “Well, I tried so hard to be a peaceful, loving woman.”
Ultimately, it’s that faith the Merrill Garbus finds in herself that comes through most powerfully on w h o k i l l, with the payoff coming on the closing track “Killa”, when she boasts with rap braggadocio, “I’m a new kinda woman / I’m a new kinda woman / I’m a don’t take shit from you kinda woman,” to a bright, funky bassline. Truer words were never uttered to describe tUnE-yArDs, though if you didn’t know that before you got to the end of w h o k i l l, you weren’t listening closely enough to it.
With a crisper, clearer production that helps it to stand out, w h o k i l l is, almost literally speaking, tUnE-yArDs’ breakthrough: This latest effort finds Garbus busting out of the claustrophobic confines of tUnE-yArDs’ resourceful, homemade debut, BiRd-BrAiNs, with a fuller, more dynamic sound that accentuates how she can hit the highs, the lows, and all the emotional registers in between. While that might seem to describe an album that’s all over the place, there’s still something consistent, coherent, and unified about w h o k i l l, with Garbus like a steadying force in the eye of the storm. The album’s first single, “Bizness”, offers a good sampling of all that the new-and-improved tUnE-yArDs are capable of, mixing and matching a little riff that recalls Konono No. 1’s patented likembe thumb-piano patterns, crisp jazz percussion, and Garbus’ androgynous vocals at their fiercest. Better yet, “Gangsta” one-ups the fevered pitch that “Bizness” hits, especially when it reaches a frenzied state in a cacophonous symphony of skronky brass, clattering beats, and melodic bass. There, Garbus is a kindred soul of Björk’s, if not so much in sound as in spirit, rallying an army of me all her own.
As back-asswards as it might seem, the bigger canvas that Garbus has to work with on w h o k i l l actually brings out the intimacy and immediacy of her one-of-a-kind music, using all the tools at her disposal to make her personal vision seem all the more vivid and vibrant. The best point of comparison for tUnE-yArDs might be one-time tourmates Dirty Projectors, whose world-influenced approach might provide the closest thing to a touchstone to what Garbus is doing: But while Dirty Projectors are more heavy on affect in their pursuit of pop perfection, tUnE-yArDs are more about expressing unbridled feeling and getting the music to capture it. The slow-burning “Powa” takes time to pick up momentum, but it’s remarkably contemplative and harrowing when it does, as Garbus’ voice moves from a whisper to a growl to reflect the inner turmoil and self-esteem issues that are the baggage of dysfunctional relationships (“Mirror, mirror on the wall / Do I see my face at all?”). On the other end of the emotional spectrum, “Wooly Wolly Gong” gives Garbus all the space she needs to find peace, as her versatile voice almost seems to channel Suzanne Vega on a lullaby that’s only embellished by quiet guitar and sparse percussion. So even if Garbus’ musical fireworks are what you notice first, there’s always something substantial to her idiosyncratic style.
And that goes double for the social consciousness tUnE-yArDs display on w h o k i l l—when they say the personal is political, that certainly applies to Garbus’ songs, which ponder bigger issues without being preachy or pretentious. As suggested by the title, violence is a running theme on the album, which the eerie psychodrama of “Riotriot” treats in ways that are messily Freudian (“You came to put handcuffs on my brother / Down in the alley way / I dreamt of making love to you”) and philosophically profound (“There is a freedom in violence I don’t understand”). Even more compelling is the briskly paced “Doorstep”, which seems pretty and ethereal enough to float over your head, except that its first lines cut to the chase about police brutality—“Policeman shot my baby as he crossed over my doorstep.” Finding strength in her own voice, no matter how resigned she may be about what’s happening around her, Garbus speaks truth to power later on the track when she croons as soulfully as she can, “Well, I tried so hard to be a peaceful, loving woman.”
Ultimately, it’s that faith the Merrill Garbus finds in herself that comes through most powerfully on w h o k i l l, with the payoff coming on the closing track “Killa”, when she boasts with rap braggadocio, “I’m a new kinda woman / I’m a new kinda woman / I’m a don’t take shit from you kinda woman,” to a bright, funky bassline. Truer words were never uttered to describe tUnE-yArDs, though if you didn’t know that before you got to the end of w h o k i l l, you weren’t listening closely enough to it.
Yabby U - (1979) Babylon A Fall 12''
Grove Music – 018
Another massive track from Yabby You, probably one of his best-known songs. A side of this 12" was included in the 2015 compilation named "Dread Prophecy (The Strange And Wonderful Story Of Yabby You)" released by Shanachie label. They probably used/made a vinyl rip for this compilation, and a bad one unfortunately. Most of the singles originally released on vinyl have poor audio quality in this compilation.
Yabby You - (2012) Deep Roots: Dub Plates And Rarities 1976 - 1978 CD
Pressure Sounds – 077
---------------------------------------------------------------------
1. Smith & The Prophets - Valley Of Joeasaphat [02:47]
2. Smith & The Prophets - Joeasaphat Rock [03:00]
3. King Tubby - Thanks And Praise [03:01]
4. Barrington Spence - Don't Touch I Dread [02:26]
5. The Prophets All Stars - Tutch Dub [02:30]
6. Tommy McCook & King Tubby - Fighting Dub [04:02]
7. Yabby You - Deliver Me [02:55]
8. Yabby You & King Tubby - Deliver Dub [02:59]
9. Don D Junior & The Prophets - Milk River Rock [03:21]
10. Prince Pampidoo - Dip Them Bedward [03:08]
11. The Prophets All Stars - Dub Them Bedward [02:57]
12. King Tubby & The Prophets - Dub Vengence [03:16]
13. King Miguel - Forward On The Track [03:00]
14. King Miguel & The Prophets - Caymanas Rock [03:02]
15. King Tubby & The Prophets All Stars - Love Sweet Love Drums[04:09]
16. The Prophets All Stars - Lazy Mood [03:04]
17. King Tubby & The Prophets - Open Your Hearts [03:31]
18. King Tubby & The Prophets All Stars - Poor And Needy Dubwise[03:18]
19. Hot City All Stars - Cleo's Dub [03:05]
Playing Time.........: 59:41
Total Size...........: 120.44 MB
Pastor T.L. Barrett & The Youth For Christ Choir - (2010) Jingle Bells 7''
Light In The Attic – 019
“One of the most important albums ever made. Ranks right up there with What’s Going On, Dark Side Of The Moon, and Pet Sounds as a flawlessly executed vision brought to life in perfect harmony. Enriches the soul and expands the mind.”
– Jim James, My Morning Jacket
“The most euphoric celebratory music that makes you want to jump around the house and explode with joy.”
– Colin Greenwood, Radiohead
“Like A Ship evokes the Beach Boys’ ’ ‘Til I Die’ and Gil Scott-Heron’s ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.’ ” – Spin
“When the electric piano and sleigh bells ring in over an almost ghostly rhythm section on disc opener ‘Like a Ship,’ it’s hard to tell whether one’s listening to an artifact from 1971 or one of the myriad collectives that rose from the ashes of freak-folk over 2009 … Pastor Barrett’s definitely a master composer who deserves wider recognition and study.” – Other Music
“The powerful rhythm section lifts Barrett’s simple, melodic keyboard riff high as the boisterous choir fills the air with sorrow and hope … Pastor Barrett could hear the sound on the horizon. The sound of anger, of change, the sound of soul…” – Wax Poetics
Chicago pastor and activist T.L. Barrett’s rare gospel soul classic Like A Ship… (Without A Sail) is finally receiving a much-needed reissue. Long revered by record collectors, this album remains one of the holy grails of gospel soul. Self-released in 1971, Like A Ship was the result of Barrett channeling his passion for music, a determination to keep children off the streets, and his charismatic preaching (which attracted the likes of Earth, Wind & Fire and Donny Hathaway to his sermons at Mount Zion Baptist Church) into the production of the album, a project bolstered by the saxophonist and arranger Gene Barge of the famed Chess Records, and backed by a cast of players that included Richard Evans, Phil Upchurch and the rapturous vocals of the Youth For Christ Choir. Like A Ship… is filled with sanctified grooves and spiritual praise delivered with a righteous, infectious chorus.
Johnnie Frierson - (2016) Have You Been Good To Yourself
Light In The Attic – 127
Followers of our output might have a pang of recognition on reading the name Frierson. That was the surname of Wendy Rene, whose work was collected into the 2012 LITA anthology After Laughter Comes Tears, and indeed, Johnnie Frierson is Wendy’s brother – a fellow member of her mid-’60s Stax four-piece The Drapels.
But Have You Been Good To Yourself will come as a surprise to anyone expecting more of the beat-driven R&B Johnnie and his sibling produced – including that compilation’s much-sampled title track. A mix of spoken word and gospel songs laid down direct to cassette, these ultra-rare home recordings draw from Johnnie’s religious upbringing and his history in the music business, which was interrupted in 1970 when he was sent to fight in Vietnam.
Crate digger Jameson Sweiger found Have You Been Good To Yourself and a companion album, Real Education, released under the name Khafele Ojore Ajanaku in a Memphis thrift store, but it was noticeably Frierson’s work. They hadn’t made it far – they would originally have been sold at corner stores and music festivals in the Memphis area, where Frierson continued to perform and host a gospel radio show, all the while working as a mechanic, laborer and teacher.
The seven songs on Have You Been Good To Yourself are overtly religious; some, such as “Out Here On Your Word,” are strident and faithful; others, like the self-questioning “Have You Been Good To Yourself,” are more meditative. They reflect the difficult situation that Frierson was in when recording, shell-shocked from his time in the military and grieving the untimely death of his son. “He was really trying to find his way,” remembers Frierson’s daughter Keesha in Andria Lisle’s liner notes. “And writing and making music were a way out for him.”
Remastered and released professionally for the first time, the message spread by Frierson – who passed away in 2010 – remains undimmed.
But Have You Been Good To Yourself will come as a surprise to anyone expecting more of the beat-driven R&B Johnnie and his sibling produced – including that compilation’s much-sampled title track. A mix of spoken word and gospel songs laid down direct to cassette, these ultra-rare home recordings draw from Johnnie’s religious upbringing and his history in the music business, which was interrupted in 1970 when he was sent to fight in Vietnam.
Crate digger Jameson Sweiger found Have You Been Good To Yourself and a companion album, Real Education, released under the name Khafele Ojore Ajanaku in a Memphis thrift store, but it was noticeably Frierson’s work. They hadn’t made it far – they would originally have been sold at corner stores and music festivals in the Memphis area, where Frierson continued to perform and host a gospel radio show, all the while working as a mechanic, laborer and teacher.
The seven songs on Have You Been Good To Yourself are overtly religious; some, such as “Out Here On Your Word,” are strident and faithful; others, like the self-questioning “Have You Been Good To Yourself,” are more meditative. They reflect the difficult situation that Frierson was in when recording, shell-shocked from his time in the military and grieving the untimely death of his son. “He was really trying to find his way,” remembers Frierson’s daughter Keesha in Andria Lisle’s liner notes. “And writing and making music were a way out for him.”
Remastered and released professionally for the first time, the message spread by Frierson – who passed away in 2010 – remains undimmed.
Acetone - (2017) 1992-2001
Light In The Attic – 159
“Acetone are into it for what they get out of it. Their music reflects who they are, and that’s so rare in music today. It’s a soul music thing.” – Jason Pierce (Spiritualized)
“Acetone are one of my all time favorite bands. Their music is still as electrifying and beautiful now as it was back then.” – Hope Sandoval (Mazzy Star)
“A lovely mix of what would it be like if Dick Dale and Neil Young played with Isaac Hayes and The Velvet Underground. A seminal American band.” – Richard Ashcroft (The Verve)
This fall, the independent literary press All Night Menu will publish Sam Sweet’s Hadley Lee Lightcap, a nonfiction novel that traces the backstories of the three members in Acetone, a band that played in Los Angeles for nine years. Though few heard them, their recordings are time capsules of who they were, how they lived, and where they came from. Light In the Attic has partnered with All Night Menu to present Acetone 1992-2001, the first anthology of the trio’s music. The book and the album will be released concurrently on September 22.
Counting their early years in the scuzz-rock band Spinout, whose sole self-titled release came out in 1991 on Delicious Vinyl, guitarist Mark Lightcap, bassist Richie Lee, and drummer Steve Hadley played together for a total of 15 years. They disbanded in July 2001, when Lee committed suicide in the garage next to the house where the trio practiced. Afterwards, Rolling Stone ran a short obituary saying Acetone’s albums were “well received” but “failed to make any waves.” It was the first and only time they were featured in the national music press.
Between 1993 and 2001 the trio released two LPs and an EP on Vernon Yard—a Virgin subsidiary—and two LPs on Vapor, the L.A.-based label founded by Neil Young and manager Elliott Roberts. In that span, they were selected to tour with Oasis, Mazzy Star, The Verve, and Spiritualized. Against a rising tide of post-Nirvana grunge and slipshod indie rock, Acetone tapped into a timeless Southern California groove by fusing elements of psychedelia, surf, and country.
They rehearsed endlessly in an empty bedroom in northeast Los Angeles, recording hours of music onto cassettes that were subsequently stuffed into shoeboxes and left in a shed behind the drummer’s house. Those tapes are being released for the first time in this anthology, which also includes highlights from Acetone’s official releases. Taken together, the songs form a companion soundtrack to Sam Sweet’s book, which maps the character of Los Angeles as a place through the lens of these three unique characters bonded by music.
“I think our music is all about moods and feeling but hopefully it will get as weird as it possibly can,” said Richie Lee in 1997. “We want things to get weird in the way that you could hear an Acetone song and know that no one else in the world could make that kind of music but us.”
Hayes McMullan - (2017) Everyday Seem Like Murder Here
Light In The Attic – 152
Bluesman. Sharecropper. Church deacon. Civil Rights activist. Hayes McMullan should be a name on every Blues aficionados’ short-list and thanks to the preservation fieldwork carried out by one of the genre’s greatest researchers some 50 years ago – it might soon be.
Born in 1902, Hayes McMullan was discovered by the renowned American roots scholar, collector and documentarian Gayle Dean Wardlow. Wardlow, author of the seminal blues anthology Chasin’ That Devil Music – Searching for the Blues, may be most famous for uncovering Robert Johnson’s death certificate in 1968, finally revealing clues to the bluesman’s mysterious and much disputed demise. Moreover, in his tireless and committed mission to preserve the Blues for future generations, he captured McMullan’s raw talent on tape and on paper. Wardlow recorded these sessions, transcribed the songs and now, writes the sleeve-notes for this landmark release.
Wardlow and McMullan met by chance on one of the former’s record-hunting trips, in Tallahatchie County, Mississippi, in 1967. Having introduced himself to McMullan on a hunch, it turned out this unassuming elderly man had not only heard of Wardlow’s idol, Charley Patton, but had played alongside him in the 1920s, as part of a brief musical journey that took him from the plantation to the open roads and juke joints of the Depression-era South. Striking up a friendship that was deemed unorthodox in 1960’s Mississippi, Wardlow traveled to McMullan’s sharecropper’s shack and convinced him to play guitar for the first time since he quit the Blues for the Church in the 30’s. “Hayes was playing like no one I had ever heard,” Wardlow writes with amazement.
Wardlow visited McMullan on a handful of occasions, always taking his recorder, a guitar and some whiskey with him. It was during these visits that Wardlow captured – with surprising clarity – the songs that make up Everyday Seem Like Murder Here.
Hayes McMullan passed away at the age of 84 in 1986, his talent and legacy largely unknown. “Reflecting now on our brief time together, I marvel at the small glimpse of something much larger I was lucky to have captured,” writes Wardlow. “The few old snapshots I took, the handful of tunes we recorded, and his brilliant performance of “Hurry Sundown” captured on film are all that’s left of the musical legacy of Hayes McMullan, sharecropper, deacon, and—unbeknownst to so many for so long—reluctant bluesman.”
Born in 1902, Hayes McMullan was discovered by the renowned American roots scholar, collector and documentarian Gayle Dean Wardlow. Wardlow, author of the seminal blues anthology Chasin’ That Devil Music – Searching for the Blues, may be most famous for uncovering Robert Johnson’s death certificate in 1968, finally revealing clues to the bluesman’s mysterious and much disputed demise. Moreover, in his tireless and committed mission to preserve the Blues for future generations, he captured McMullan’s raw talent on tape and on paper. Wardlow recorded these sessions, transcribed the songs and now, writes the sleeve-notes for this landmark release.
Wardlow and McMullan met by chance on one of the former’s record-hunting trips, in Tallahatchie County, Mississippi, in 1967. Having introduced himself to McMullan on a hunch, it turned out this unassuming elderly man had not only heard of Wardlow’s idol, Charley Patton, but had played alongside him in the 1920s, as part of a brief musical journey that took him from the plantation to the open roads and juke joints of the Depression-era South. Striking up a friendship that was deemed unorthodox in 1960’s Mississippi, Wardlow traveled to McMullan’s sharecropper’s shack and convinced him to play guitar for the first time since he quit the Blues for the Church in the 30’s. “Hayes was playing like no one I had ever heard,” Wardlow writes with amazement.
Wardlow visited McMullan on a handful of occasions, always taking his recorder, a guitar and some whiskey with him. It was during these visits that Wardlow captured – with surprising clarity – the songs that make up Everyday Seem Like Murder Here.
Hayes McMullan passed away at the age of 84 in 1986, his talent and legacy largely unknown. “Reflecting now on our brief time together, I marvel at the small glimpse of something much larger I was lucky to have captured,” writes Wardlow. “The few old snapshots I took, the handful of tunes we recorded, and his brilliant performance of “Hurry Sundown” captured on film are all that’s left of the musical legacy of Hayes McMullan, sharecropper, deacon, and—unbeknownst to so many for so long—reluctant bluesman.”
Bobby Whitlock - (2013) The Bobby Whitlock Story: Where There's A Will There's A Way CD
Future Days Recordings – 602
Bobby Whitlock’s story is a classic rock’n’roll saga about a guy who was in the right place at the right time and made the most of it. The son of a preacher man, the Memphis native would sneak out of his father’s services to revel in the ecstatic sounds of the choir at a nearby black church. Already an accomplished pianist by this teens, Whitlock became a fixture at Stax studios, where he learned the nuances of R&B from the masters, released a couple of singles and hung with Steve Cropper and Duck Dunn. When the latter brought Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett to Stax to record what would be their first album, Home, for the label, early in 1969, Whitlock was enlisted as the first of Delaney & Bonnie’s Friends.
Later that year, Eric Clapton became so taken with the band that he brought them to the UK for a tour, becoming an unofficial band member and persuading George Harrison to jump on board as well. Following the run of dates (documented on 1970’s On Tour With Eric Clapton), the whole crew contributed to Clapton’s self-titled first solo album, after which D&B&F splintered, several of them joining Mad Dogs and Englishmen while Clapton grabbed Whitlock, bassist Carl Radle and drummer Jim Gordon and formed Derek And The Dominos. After playing on George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass, they headed to Miami and recorded the one-off masterpiece Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs, Whitlock co-writing and harmonizing with Clapton as well as playing keys.
Booking studio time at London’s Olympic Studios in April 1972, the month before Derek And The Dominos were scheduled to record their second album at the facility, Whitlock cut his self-titled solo debut (which shares a single disc with follow-up Raw Velvet on this reissue) in front of a mind-blowing studio band: Clapton and Harrison on guitars, Gordon on drums and Beatles buddy Klaus Voormann on bass, with Andy Johns co-producing. Fronting a band for the first time, the expat Southerner unleashes his rich, fervent, gospel-rooted baritone on the soulful rockers “Where There’s A Will” (written with Bonnie Bramlett) and the made-up-on-the-spot “Back In My Life Again”. He’s even more striking as an R&B balladeer on tracks like “A Game Called Life” (featuring a flute solo by Traffic’s Chris Wood) and “The Scenery Has Slowly Changed”, which recaptures the dusky melancholy of his Layla closer “Thorn Tree In The Garden”. After finishing the album in LA, Whitlock turned it in to his label, Atlantic, which rejected it despite the record’s all-star cast. It was picked up and released in the US by ABC Dunhill but sank without a trace.
That wasn’t the only disappointment for Whitlock, as Clapton pulled the plug on the sessions for the second Dominos LP. Determined to turn around his recent run of bad luck, Whitlock formed a new band in LA with lead guitarist Rick Vito (who’d be on the Stones’ shortlist following the departure of Mick Taylor and would later briefly replace Lindsey Buckingham in Fleetwood Mac), bassist Keith Ellis and drummer David Poncher, and went right back into the studio with Stones producer Jimmy Miller. They emerged with Raw Velvet, a far more uptempo record overall than its predecessor, featuring the guitar interaction of Vito on lead and Whitlock on rhythm. They revisit Layla with a blistering “Tell The Truth” and summon up the intensity of the Dominos on “Write You A Letter” and “If You Ever”, all featuring jaw-dropping solos from Vito, who also plays a rhapsodic, Clapton-esque slide on the yearning “Dearest I Wonder”. Slowhand himself, Gordon and the Bramletts appear on Delaney and Mac Davis’ rousing “Hello LA, Bye Bye Birmingham”, which sounds like an outtake from On Tour. The album closes with “Start All Over”, Whitlock wailing on Leslie guitar and singing his heart out, though hardly anyone would hear him do so.
He had no choice but to start all over following his brush with fame – playing music was the only thing he knew how to do, and he’s continued making records in semi-obscurity over the decades. But for those three remarkable years, Bobby Whitlock was swept up in history, serving as an essential, if unsung, participant in its making.
Later that year, Eric Clapton became so taken with the band that he brought them to the UK for a tour, becoming an unofficial band member and persuading George Harrison to jump on board as well. Following the run of dates (documented on 1970’s On Tour With Eric Clapton), the whole crew contributed to Clapton’s self-titled first solo album, after which D&B&F splintered, several of them joining Mad Dogs and Englishmen while Clapton grabbed Whitlock, bassist Carl Radle and drummer Jim Gordon and formed Derek And The Dominos. After playing on George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass, they headed to Miami and recorded the one-off masterpiece Layla And Other Assorted Love Songs, Whitlock co-writing and harmonizing with Clapton as well as playing keys.
Booking studio time at London’s Olympic Studios in April 1972, the month before Derek And The Dominos were scheduled to record their second album at the facility, Whitlock cut his self-titled solo debut (which shares a single disc with follow-up Raw Velvet on this reissue) in front of a mind-blowing studio band: Clapton and Harrison on guitars, Gordon on drums and Beatles buddy Klaus Voormann on bass, with Andy Johns co-producing. Fronting a band for the first time, the expat Southerner unleashes his rich, fervent, gospel-rooted baritone on the soulful rockers “Where There’s A Will” (written with Bonnie Bramlett) and the made-up-on-the-spot “Back In My Life Again”. He’s even more striking as an R&B balladeer on tracks like “A Game Called Life” (featuring a flute solo by Traffic’s Chris Wood) and “The Scenery Has Slowly Changed”, which recaptures the dusky melancholy of his Layla closer “Thorn Tree In The Garden”. After finishing the album in LA, Whitlock turned it in to his label, Atlantic, which rejected it despite the record’s all-star cast. It was picked up and released in the US by ABC Dunhill but sank without a trace.
That wasn’t the only disappointment for Whitlock, as Clapton pulled the plug on the sessions for the second Dominos LP. Determined to turn around his recent run of bad luck, Whitlock formed a new band in LA with lead guitarist Rick Vito (who’d be on the Stones’ shortlist following the departure of Mick Taylor and would later briefly replace Lindsey Buckingham in Fleetwood Mac), bassist Keith Ellis and drummer David Poncher, and went right back into the studio with Stones producer Jimmy Miller. They emerged with Raw Velvet, a far more uptempo record overall than its predecessor, featuring the guitar interaction of Vito on lead and Whitlock on rhythm. They revisit Layla with a blistering “Tell The Truth” and summon up the intensity of the Dominos on “Write You A Letter” and “If You Ever”, all featuring jaw-dropping solos from Vito, who also plays a rhapsodic, Clapton-esque slide on the yearning “Dearest I Wonder”. Slowhand himself, Gordon and the Bramletts appear on Delaney and Mac Davis’ rousing “Hello LA, Bye Bye Birmingham”, which sounds like an outtake from On Tour. The album closes with “Start All Over”, Whitlock wailing on Leslie guitar and singing his heart out, though hardly anyone would hear him do so.
He had no choice but to start all over following his brush with fame – playing music was the only thing he knew how to do, and he’s continued making records in semi-obscurity over the decades. But for those three remarkable years, Bobby Whitlock was swept up in history, serving as an essential, if unsung, participant in its making.
His Name Is Alive - (2016) Patterns of Light
Silver Mountain Media Group – 045
Having been invited to perform at the Large Hadron Collider at CERN in Switzerland by one of the scientists, HNIA spent a year studying particle physics and then created Patterns of Light. The scientist, Dr. James Beacham, was asked to "fact check for bad data, misquotes, dragons, pseudoscience and to make sure the witchcraft to physics ratio wouldn't be too embarrassing," he agreed and soon sent pages of notes, screenshots, event displayes and also recommended books and videos.
Patterns of Light is the result of this exchange of information. The research focuses on dark matter, dark energy, the search for extra dimensions, mini-black holes and the machinery that collides particles at high speeds using thirteen teraelectronvolts but also studies the fundamental forces of nature as seen through the classic creation myths, the visionary theology of Hildegard Von Bingen, medieval manuscripts and cosmic maps, all in an effort to turn the physics back into poetry.
Patterns of Light is the result of this exchange of information. The research focuses on dark matter, dark energy, the search for extra dimensions, mini-black holes and the machinery that collides particles at high speeds using thirteen teraelectronvolts but also studies the fundamental forces of nature as seen through the classic creation myths, the visionary theology of Hildegard Von Bingen, medieval manuscripts and cosmic maps, all in an effort to turn the physics back into poetry.
Ray Stinnett - (2012) A Fire Somewhere CD
Light In The Attic – 088
To the extent that he is known at all, Ray Stinnett is best known as the guitar player for Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs. That’s him supporting the grotty garage groove of “Woolly Bully” and shearing through “Black Sheep,” two of their biggest hits. At the height of the band’s popularity — just after Billboard magazine named “Woolly Bully” song of the year in 1965, over hits by the Stones and the Beatles — they disbanded acrimoniously and Stinnett, along with his wife and newborn, set out for California. First he made the Haight-Ashbury scene, then he settled briefly at the infamous Morningstar Commune just outside San Francisco, where he expanded his musical and spiritual horizons.
Stinnett’s sole solo album, A Fire Somewhere, reflects that westward journey, blending the folk-rock and pop spiritualism of the West Coast with the R&B-descended grit of the Mid-South. He’s a fine guitar player, with an agile strum that has much in common with his more famous Memphis contemporary, Steve Cropper of Booker T. & the MGs. Stinnett’s never quite as tight as his Stax counterpart, but commune living may have taught him that not everything had to be so squarely in the pocket. A Fire Somewhere is loose but not laconic, with a rambling vibe that belies its darker sentiments.
Nor did everything have to adhere to the strict structures of the kind of mainstream pop Stinnett played in the Pharaohs. Much like Arthur Lee of Love — another Memphian transplanted to the West Coast — he apparently felt no need to repeat his catchiest melodies or to assign much emphasis to choruses or bridges. A sudden key change imbues “Silky Path” with ominous foreboding: “If you go down to see the lights of the city,” he sings, before lowering his voice in warning, “don’t you fall off of your cloud.” Stinnett’s songs meander and lope, but they always end up someplace interesting. Closer “The Rain” begins as a stoner gospel-folk number, then morphs into a hectic pop jam, florid with saxophone and piano. The two halves of the song couldn’t be more different, yet they make a skewed kind of sense sutured together.
At the behest of friend and mentor Booker T. Jones, who was by then embarking on a second career as a producer and talent scout, Stinnett signed to A&M Records. For a variety of reasons, most having to do with friction between label and artist, A Fire Somewhere was shelved and largely forgotten for four decades. But yesterday’s insufficiently commercial dud can be today’s revelatory relic, and the album is finally getting a proper release via Seattle-based Light in the Attic Records (which has a fine track record with Memphis-related releases by unsung Stax horn player Packy Axton and singer Wendy Rene). Even so many years after its creation, this album still sounds lively and wiry and full of ideas, suggesting a very different path that Memphis pop music might have taken — one that wandered defiantly westward.
Stinnett’s sole solo album, A Fire Somewhere, reflects that westward journey, blending the folk-rock and pop spiritualism of the West Coast with the R&B-descended grit of the Mid-South. He’s a fine guitar player, with an agile strum that has much in common with his more famous Memphis contemporary, Steve Cropper of Booker T. & the MGs. Stinnett’s never quite as tight as his Stax counterpart, but commune living may have taught him that not everything had to be so squarely in the pocket. A Fire Somewhere is loose but not laconic, with a rambling vibe that belies its darker sentiments.
Nor did everything have to adhere to the strict structures of the kind of mainstream pop Stinnett played in the Pharaohs. Much like Arthur Lee of Love — another Memphian transplanted to the West Coast — he apparently felt no need to repeat his catchiest melodies or to assign much emphasis to choruses or bridges. A sudden key change imbues “Silky Path” with ominous foreboding: “If you go down to see the lights of the city,” he sings, before lowering his voice in warning, “don’t you fall off of your cloud.” Stinnett’s songs meander and lope, but they always end up someplace interesting. Closer “The Rain” begins as a stoner gospel-folk number, then morphs into a hectic pop jam, florid with saxophone and piano. The two halves of the song couldn’t be more different, yet they make a skewed kind of sense sutured together.
At the behest of friend and mentor Booker T. Jones, who was by then embarking on a second career as a producer and talent scout, Stinnett signed to A&M Records. For a variety of reasons, most having to do with friction between label and artist, A Fire Somewhere was shelved and largely forgotten for four decades. But yesterday’s insufficiently commercial dud can be today’s revelatory relic, and the album is finally getting a proper release via Seattle-based Light in the Attic Records (which has a fine track record with Memphis-related releases by unsung Stax horn player Packy Axton and singer Wendy Rene). Even so many years after its creation, this album still sounds lively and wiry and full of ideas, suggesting a very different path that Memphis pop music might have taken — one that wandered defiantly westward.
Lewis - (1985) Romantic Times LP
R.A.W. Records – 1002
So lost, in fact, was Lewis, he eluded every effort to track him down. Scant details were known: just a series of possibly apocryphal stories about a sports car-driving Canadian with a model on his arm and a habit of skipping town when there were bills to be paid.
Deciding that Lewis’ spider web-delicate songs demanded to be heard, we put the album out anyway, offering to present the due royalties to anyone who could prove they were Lewis.
One sure thing was this: Lewis was a man of many names: Randall A. Wulff among them. Now we have either found another alias – or perhaps even his real name – on the sleeve of a completely unknown album.
Sourced soon after the re-release of L’Amour, Romantic Times is the 1985 follow-up to L’Amour – and it’s released as Lewis Baloue. The name may be slightly different, but this is absolutely our man: a familiar blond posing on the sleeve, a familiar, tortured voice pouring his heart out over languid synths and synthetic waltz beats.
Remastered from a sealed, vinyl copy of the ultra-rare album, the album was discovered in the vaults of DJ and collector Kevin “Sipreano” Howes in Vancouver, BC. It’s so rare that what is, at present, the only other known copy – found in the same Calgary store where Aaron Levin discovered a batch of sealed copies of L’Amour – is presently soaring into quadruple digits on eBay.
Even engineer Dan Lowe, credited for working on the album at Calgary’s Thunder Road Studios, remembered little about the session other than that Lewis seemed to be “under the influence”. Yet the music is utterly captivating.
The album further fleshes out the Lewis myth – we see him pictured in that white suit with his famous white Mercedes and a private jet too; we hear him focussing more intently on matters of the heart, and appearing to unravel in the process. “I felt like I was witnessing a full-blown exorcism of a phantom clad in the finest linen,” writes filmmaker and historian Jack D. Fleischer in his brand new liner notes. “This record went further [than L’Amour ]. It was a personal plea, of sorts. Something had gone wrong. Nerves were clearly exposed.”
It paints Lewis, then, as being more like a David Lynch character than even his debut did, exposing the darkness beneath the sheen. The album is presently being readied for release to the throng of new fans Lewis has found, willingly or not. The man himself remains a total enigma.
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