I
believe it was Darius who once noted that even a short post was better
than none. I'm going to add "better late than never" to his remark.
We've moved on to our next theme, but since it hasn't yet been touched,
it looks like I might get away with this cheat.
<Spill the Wine> is a classic - first published by Eric Burdon and the Animals - no wait ... Eric Burdon and War.
The
conceit of <spilling wine> is neither new nor unique to this song
nor The Animals (has something to do with the properties of wine itself
perhaps?)
But this song is a narrative that might best be
relegated to the frame of mind of some of us who came of age in the
early 70s, even if it is a classic example of that compus mentus, with
lyrics like:
just a dream/all in my head.. mountain kings and long-haired leaping gnomes
This has to be one of the most magical bits of riffing in music, I sooooo love this simple sounding casual wrist action, as patented by the Doobie's Tom Johnston, singer and guitarist, of many, in the early incarnation of the band, as well as the writer of this song. It was clearly a sound he enjoyed, as it reprises often in other songs, notably the big early other song they are famous for. And, does it remind you of anything? Let me give you a clue, here's Nile Rogers explaining his style. But that doesn't matter, so glorious a sound it is, in any hands.
But it isn't just the guitar, it is the subtle appearances of what sounds like some mandolin after the first chorus, the banjo slowly leaking through during and after the second, and all the flanging/phasing effects so beloved of the time. (God, I miss flanging. Or is it phasing......) Did I say it had two drummers? Surely the first two drummers on a big hit single in history. Or my memory It is the sound of joy on a plate.
Over to Johnston, who later explained his inspiration, in a never more 70s way:
"The chord structure of it made me think of something positive, so the lyrics that came out of that were based on this utopian idea that if the leaders of the world got together on some grassy hill somewhere and either smoked enough dope or just sat down and just listened to the music and forgot about all this other bullshit, the world would be a much better place. It was very utopian and very unrealistic (laughs). It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Who could argue with that?
I always felt a bit sad about the Doobie Brothers, this earlier raw and less polished aspect of their sound sometimes a little airbrushed out by the smoother Michael McDonald years. Sure, a terrific and gifted singer and interpreter, but why were my beloved hippy band singing philly soul, something I couldn't embrace until a new century beckoned. Did Johnston feel the same? Having started the band and been the main focus, from their tentative start in 1970, breakthrough album, 'Toulouse Street', in 1972, from which this song comes, he left in 1975, nominally from a hospital bed, suffering from what was called road stress. Actually a duodenal ulcer. But the die had been cast, the band slowly seeping in soul and smooth jazz music sounds ahead of that, as ex-Steely Dan-ner Jeff Baxter joined the band. With Johnston in hospital, his Dan alumnus, McDonald, was invited in. (I accept this may be a slightly unfair stance to take, one part of the Doobie style always being the contributions of all, but the Johnston bits were my favourite. )
Since then Johnston has been in and out of the band a couple of times, initially rejoining a near-original line-up in 1989, stimulated by an almost accidental reunion of the by then legion of ex-members available two years earlier. Officially he remains, with Patrick Simmons, singer and guitarist, alongside him at the beginning, and the only permanently present member during the band's on-off history. I guess, for me, they are the two true siblings of this fraternal band. (Is here the place to state I once thought all these contemporaneous bands of brothers just had funny american names, imagining, as well as Mr and Mrs Doobie and their sons, so also Mr and Mrs Burrito, let alone Mr and Mrs Freak, that most hirsute of families? Thought not.)
Back to the song, such is the catchiness of the beat that it is no surprise it captured a few covers. However, fascinatingly, both the two I enjoy most come, arguably, from artists who probably picked up and on the band in their blue-eyed soul phase. So, the Isley Brothers (who were):
This could be a harder assignment than it might initially appear, so spoilt for choice is the vast legacy of this iconic label, the yin to Stax's yang in the history of black popular music. And whilst, yes, my personal taste errs now more to the southern grit(s) of Stax, my childhood was festooned and imprinted with all those hits from the Motor City. It seemed that for every guitar band in the charts, there were twice that number of sharp dressed dudes and shiny frocked floozies, singing and dancing their socks off, so ubiquitous were the Temptations, the Supremes, the Miracles, the (4) Tops etc etc etc. Indeed I came to resent their permanence: when Marvin Gaye was number 1 with (I heard it on the) Grapevine for the whole of one summer, I hated the ease with which all usurpers were kept at bay. Love it now, less so then. I acquired a dislike and distrust of the so-called the Soul that curdled mine.
So what changed it? Actually these guys, around long before and around long since, a seemingly inexhaustible supply of brothers, who suddenly, in mid 70s, discovered the alchemists stone, turning white rock boys onto black r'n'b with the simple trick of if you can't beat 'em. Namely the guitar, the electric guitar. Based around brothers, Ronald, Rudolph and O'Kelly Isley, the Isley Brothers were a potent force in the 60s with songs such as Shout, Twist and Shout and This Old Heart of Mine, but had found their star perhaps waning a little. (Innocently, I had always assumed that better known-to-me versions by Lulu and the Beatles were the originals, these being poor copies, rather than vice-versa. Forgive me, I was just a wee boy!) Perhaps picking a trick from their erstwhile supporting and session man, James Marshall Hendrix, younger siblings Ernie and Marvin were conscripted, along with bro-in-law, Chris Jasper, beefing up the sound with guitar, bass and keyboards, electric rock guitar, bass and keyboards. I found the 3+3 album of 1973, referring to the trio plus trio as outlined above, astonishing, my gateway drug to an appreciation of black music hitherto denied by a prejudice, not of colour but of image. But these were way cooler than the bands namechecked above: no more suits, replaced instead with bandannas and tie-dye all the way, arguably standing the scrutiny of time less well, but hey...... Scales dropped, Damascus seen and I was on the bus, with all the previous suspects reciprocating my conversion, Stevie Wonder and the Temptations, for two, swiftly becoming suitable rock visionaries, whether by virtue of their music or lifestyle, irony not unintended.
This is my salute to the Isleys, who persevere, still with Ron and Ernie enrolled in the cause. This, their finest moment, Harvest for the World, an apt pointer for those, and there are many, who might see now as a time right to make a Harvest OF the World.
Disclaimer: 3+3 was on Epic records. That may be the truth, but that's not what most will think, so, spiritually, at least, I rest my case.
Entry level? (Recommended, a fabulous selection.) Specific.
purchase [Stephen Stills: Love the One You're With] There are various multi-guitar version on the U_tube with any combination of CSNand/orY - acoustic/electric/mixed, many of them satisfying (tho not always), but few come close to the sweet harmony that the original version from Stills' album brings. CSNY aren't related - as in family - except that they are known to fight like members of a family are known to do, and, after so many years, they must be just one notch down from family. But this post isnt about them as family. It's about the Isley Brothers doing a Stephen Stills song:
Love the One You're With: strikes me as rather "hippie" in theme. Take a minute to think it through: If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with (a phrase ascribed to Billy Preston, but with likely earlier versions dating back to the '40s or possibly Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello in the 50s) Peace and Love, man. It's OK to love anyone on the moment/ go with the flow. Why not make the best of the moment: the time only comes around once. The structure of this song seems to call out for the incorporation of an organ (or whatever takes its electronic place). The Isely Brothers turned out a version of a CSNY song that almost matches Steven Stills' original. In the original, Stills (Wow) plays guitar, organ and various percussion (along with the vocal). Crosby, Nash and Rita Coolidge add to the original.
The 1971 Isley Brothers rendition is decidedly more gospel - see the vocals (gospel: may include clapping and foot stomping along with the focus on vocal harmonies) - the version linked to at the top
On one of my trips to Charleston, South Carolina I stopped off at a store to buy an album I wasn't really familiar with: the Isley Brothers 3 + 3. It became a soundtrack for that sunny weekend spent on the beach, in fine restaurants, among good friends and relatives. Every time I got in my car, I played the CD ...which kicks off with 5 and half minutes of their huge 1973 hit "That Lady, Pt 1 & 2". Big memories? Not really. But every time I play 3 + 3 I feel like I'm back in one of my favorite places in the world.
I've tried the "soundtrack" trick a few times. Listening to Electric Ladyland in India. ( Its fiery wah wah guitar solos take me back to winding mountain roads and hand painted Coke signs) Grant Lee Buffalo's Fuzzy always reminds me how cold and windy San Francisco can be. Zappa's Grand Wazoo brings back dreams of China. Compared to photographs, music provides a subtle shortcut to memories and emotions. Try the soundtrack trick some time.
There is a long history in pop music of white artists covering songs by black artists. In the '70s, R&B/soul/funk group the Isley Brothers turned this around by covering songs by white artists.
Their first album with an expanded six-person lineup, 3 + 3, included covers of Johnathan Edwards "Sunshine (Go Away Today)", the Doobie Brothers' "Listen to the Music", and James Taylor's "Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight, but perhaps the whitest song they covered was "Summer Breeze", originally a pop hit for Seals & Crofts. The Isley's version made the U.S. R&B charts in 1974.
With the guitar of new member Ernie Isley giving it some much needed-muscle, the song grooves. It's a great example of how the right arrangement can breathe new life into a song.
Work To Do to finds the Isley Brothers in a transitional stage. In the 60s, they were a standard issue R&B band, complete with "doo wap" choruses. But during the 70s, while adding a younger crop of Isley instrumentalists, they became more socially conscience, with songs like Fight The Power and The Pride.
Oh I'm out here trying to make it, baby can't you see It takes a lot of money to make it, let's talk truthfully So keep your love light burning and a little food hot in my plate You might as well get used to me coming home a little late
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