Baby Huey & the Babysitters — A Change Is Gonna Come

from The Baby Huey Story: The Living Legend (1971)

Last week, my friend Tim took one look at me and said “you need some good music.” He sat me down in a chair, dimmed the lights, and cued up this track on his record player. For the next nine minutes and twenty-six seconds, I sat there rapt, overwhelmed by this electrifying track. Baby Huey hums, he raps, he screams, and most of all, he belts out incredible SOUL.

Enjoy.

(Baby Huey also had a big influence on hip-hop: check out his track ‘Hard Times’ and you’ll recognize the riff immediately… it’s been sampled by Ice Cube, Tribe, Public Enemy, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Lil Wayne, the list goes on…)

Joe Bataan — The Prayer

from Mr. New York and the East Side Kids (1971)

Worship in the church of Latin soul.. with Joe “Mr New York” Bataan’s lush and lovely ‘The Prayer.’ Bataan grew up in Spanish Harlem, and headed up the Dragons, a Puerto Rican street gang, before landing in jail on stolen car charges. After his release at age 23, he started his first group, Joe Bataan and the Latin Swingers, melding Latin boogaloo and doo-wop. Shortly thereafter he signed with Johnny Pacheco’s Fania Records, an influential New York salsa label.

The rest is history.. he is now the self-crowned “King of Latin Soul.”

More great Latin soul here, if you dig it…

Giti Pashaei — Rizeh Rizeh

from Shadi Ba Man Ghahre & Rize Rize (Apollon, 1971)

Here is another beautiful track from Giti Pashaei… this time with gypsy-style violins. Really fabulous, aside from the regrettable sound quality.

Check out last week’s post for a completely different sound from 1971. Unfortunately it’s been pretty hard to find decent-sounding recordings… no doubt my complete ignorance of Farsi contributes to that. Also, another explanation from the encyclopedic blog Radio Diffusion:

This is perhaps due in part to the political situation surrounding the music and culture, much of what was recorded prior to the 1978 revolution became illegal with the new regime and was destroyed when found by the police. Performers who had substantial careers prior to the revolution had to flee the country or risk persecution as even the simple act of a woman performing as a soloist became illegal, not to mention the performance of westernized Persian music that had become increasingly popular under the last years of the Shah. Records that you find now from that period in Iran have likely survived many hardships and they almost always show it in one way or another.

Giti Pashaei — Gol-e Maryam (1971)

I just found a slew of amazing tracks over at the blog Radiodiffusion Internasionaal Annex, including this 1971 single by Giti Pashaei, a big star in Iran before the Revolution. This track is about an agave relative known in Iran as the ‘Mary flower,’ from which a perfume is made. From wikipedia:

Giti was one of the most popular Iranian singers of the late 1960s and 1970s. She became famous with her song ‘Gol-e Maryam’ (The Maria Flower). The Iranian Revolution put an end to her singing career in 1979. Women were forbidden to sing in public. Later on she composed many sound tracks for Iranian movies after the Iranian Revolution in 1979.

Is it just me or did Iran seem like a hell of a lot more fun in the Shah days?

photos via WhatsUpIran.com.

Os 3 Morais — Azul Da Cor Do Mar Tico - Tico No Fuba

from Os 3 Morais (1971)

Take this song. Place on tongue. Swallow.

A vocal chill pill from Brazilian siblings Jane Vicentina do Espírito Santo, Sidney do Espírito Santo e Roberto do Espírito Santo: the three ‘Morais’ (their mother’s maiden name).

The trio got its start in the early 60s recording jingles for commercials—you can definitely hear a tinge of soap ad salesmanship in these super-polished vocals.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming…

Marifé de Triana — Dolores, la de Valverde (1971)

Spectacularly glossy track from the sevillana Marifé de Triana, a copla singer and actress. Starts out sounding like ‘Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da’… then the horns come in, recalling a Herb-Alpert-style jam, and then BAM!!… Marifé arrives with a show-stopping vocal performance.

This track comes via a Mallorca-based music blog, Pick Up: Colección de discos. Don’t miss it if you like mid-century Spanish music!

Kazuhiko Katoh — Jiraiya

from Super Gas (1971)

Someday soon I’ll have to change the name of this blog to ‘yer darling japan.’ It’s an unending obsession of mine. Until then, here’s a beautiful raga-like dirge for harmonium and guitar, by folk singer Kazuhiko Katoh. It’s his second solo outing, and the first after the breakup of his former group, the Folk Crusaders.

Two years ago, Katoh hung himself in a hotel room in Karuizawa, Nagano prefecture, at the age of 62, after telling one friend “I have nothing left that I want to do.”

Gene Clark — For A Spanish Guitar

from White Light (1971)

My interest in The Byrds is generally limited to the period in which Gram Parsons worked for the band. It was just a brief stint, enough time to record the masterpiece Sweetheart of the Rodeo, before Gram’s demands grew untenable for the group (higher salary, renaming the group ‘Gram Parsons and The Byrds,’ threats to Roger McGuinn’s leadership). Less than a year after joining, Gram struck out on his own.

At any rate, suffice to say I’d neglected the solo output of the original, founding members of the Byrds. That’s where this Gene Clark album comes in. An on-again, off-again founding member of the group, this album is the result of a period he spent living on the northern California coast with his wife and children, nestled in the hills of Mendocino, and the songs capture that ‘loner sound’ few guitarists do well. Songs that sound like they’re sung for the wind, for you, and no one else.

This track is the standout on the album, mournful though it sounds. Dylan supposedly said once that it’s a tune he’d have been proud to write. But he didn’t. Gene Clark did.

Judee Sill — Crayon Angels

from Judee Sill (1971)

Sometimes you gotta mellow out with a little California folk. Judee Sill is a good place to start—solid fingerpicking, a honeyed voice, maybe too polished for some. She wasn’t around for long—she died of a codeine overdose less than 10 years after releasing this album.

In the meantime, she opened a tour for David Crosby and Graham Nash, was featured on the cover of Rolling Stone and released one more album, before dropping out of the music business to work as a cartoonist. (Not totally out of left field—her mother’s second husband was an animator for Tom and Jerry)

Apparently the Fleet Foxes cover this number live, though I don’t think I’ve seen them do it.

UPDATE: everygreatsongever says:

Here’s Pecknold doing it alone in a Black Cab Session: blackcabsessions.com/in…

Kan Mikami — 馬鹿ぶし (baka bushi aka ‘Rude Idiot’)

from Mikami Kan No Sekai (The World of Kan Mikami) (1971)

Japanese blues troubadour Kan Mikami sings as if you were cutting his heart out…slowly, meticulously, while he bleeds. (Look at the cover) This song, the first track on his debut album, is the most produced, with flutes and pizzicato plucks, but his seething vocals don’t hide behind the graceful instrumentation. The demons are alive in his voice, as it wavers between smooth lullaby tones and chainsaw rage. As an ode to a ‘Rude Idiot,’ it works quite well.

If you track down this album, also don’t miss the track おど (odo). He shrieks the way you would if someone hammered a pin under your fingernails.

There is a wonderful, extensive interview with Mr Mikami at Psychedelic Noise from Japan and NZ. Here are a few highlights taken from that interview.

When did you first pick up a guitar?

Mikami: Must have been in 1965, but I didn’t know how to play then. I’d just look at it and polish it.

What did you think when you first arrived in Tokyo?

Mikami: I thought of the word “violence”. It was as if the city was controlled by violence. The countryside is really pastoral, and I understood the relationship between man and nature. And then you come to a city, and suddenly violence is the real power. Like when the traffic light changes and everyone sets off at once in the same direction—when I saw that I felt like I was being chased by someone. Like there was someone following me and someone controlling it all.

Do your children listen to your songs?

Mikami: Yeah, occasionally. My son really likes them, but my daughter always looks like she’s about to burst into tears.

Out of all the songs you’ve written, which do you think are the best?

Mikami: Maybe ‘Odo.’ That’s the only song that I’ve ever taken to perfection—the only one where I’ve thought that I don’t need to sing this anymore. When I played it in the trio in Yokohama with Haino and Aketagawa, it was like I could see the song flying up to heaven. I knew that I’d never be able to sing it any better than that. It’d be fucked up to sing it any more. It was really like a kaleidoscope. … I realized that songs really do have a proper end, that they do live their lives and then die. Singers can’t suddenly become popular after they’re dead, can they? Once you die it’s over—that’s especially true for musicians. A musician dying is the saddest thing of all—because you’ll never be able to hear that sound again…

Tim Maia — I Don’t Know What to Do With Myself

from Tim Maia (1971)

An irresistible track from Tim Maia, one of the pioneers of Brazilian funk and soul. Maia spent a number of years in the US, and obviously learned his soul lessons well, as seen on this track, and the stuff he arranged for Eduardo Araujo.

Maia was remarkably bad at coming up with album titles; ten of his albums are entitled simply Tim Maia. This is the second such edition. It has a number of great songs on it, including the ultra-dramatic ballad ‘Você’ (You), a Maia original. There are also a few playful, accordion-tinged forró tracks, much more Brazilian in pedigree.

If this jam isn’t sexy enough for you, here’s an even slower version.

Friction — Crazy Dream

from 軋轢 (Atsureki/Friction) (1980)

Here’s some really dirty Japanese no wave I’ve been meaning to post for a while. The drums and bass are hard enough to make your head throb, and the guitar on top of that sounds finger-bleedingly raw.

The band originally formed in Tokyo in 1971 as Circle Triangle Square, an avant-garde street-performance group that played freeform acid jams. Founding members were Reck, saxophonist Chico Hige, and drummer Sakuro Watanabe. Watanabe’s liner notes on one of their early albums may be some of the best to ever grace an album sleeve:

“Time. Avant-garde, rock’n’roll, vagabond, inhaling paint thinner, journey, beat, nihilism, underground, blues, hippie, Kohenji, genius, LSD, Shinjuku, yippie, pain killer, death, shoplifting, long hair, revolution, insanity, Kyoto, grass, hitchhiking, sex, commune, psychedelic, hashish, Zen, Asobi (playing or game), Satori (spiritual enlightenment), make-up, solitude, loneliness, anti-establishment, idiot, cool, rock festival, trip, guru—they were neighbors, part of us, and enemies sometimes.”

Later in the 70s, Reck and Chico moved to New York City, where they played with Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, James Chance and the Contortions and Lydia Lunch, before returning to Japan in 1978 to form Friction with guitarist Tsunematsu Masatoshi. This album, from 1980, was produced by Japanese composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, during his time in the electronic group Yellow Magic Orchestra. At this point I’ve listed so many bands you’re gonna have to go explore yourself!

Grab the album at FM Shades. And Last Days of Man on Earth has a terrific list of Japanese punk and no wave bands to check out.

Runa Laila — Aankh mili aur takraya

from Tiger Gang (1971)

Today I’m going to highlight a few Pakistani movie numbers from the terrific blog Hindustani Vinyl. It’s a treasure trove of gems from 1960s and 70s Bollywood and Lollywood (Pakistan’s movie capital, Lahore), but unfortunately the blog serves as an appetizer for a German rare records vendor of the same name, and the tracks are all cut about 2/3rds through. Don’t let that deter you—some great discoveries await!

This one’s a hip number sung by Bangladeshi playback singer Runa Laila for the film Tiger Gang aka Kommissar X jagt die roten Tiger, a story of drug addicts and gangsters. It was a rare collaboration between Austrian film director Harald Reinl and Lollywood producers, but despite (or maybe because of) the subject matter, it was a box office flop (and has only scored 4.5 stars on imdb). Ouch.

Here’s a video clip of this song from the movie.

Luz y Fuerza — We Can Fly

from We Can Fly (1971)

If you’re a fan of the Funky Drummer, feel-good sitcom themes, rainbows, or the vaguely menacing horns of the Taxi Driver soundtrack, then I recommend checking out this bizarre 1971 track from the Mexican group Luz y Fuerza.

Luz y Fuerza (Light & Power) was born during the Mexican counterculture movement of the late 1960s, La Onda Chicana, which culminated in 1971 with a sort of “Mexican Woodstock,” Avándaro, at which Luz y Fuerza played…and lots of jipitecas danced.

Blue Phantom — Violence

from Distortions (1971)

Rarely does a song live up to its title so thoroughly as this cut by the raging Italian fuzz-prog group Blue Phantom. The brainchild of violinist, composer and orchestra leader Armando Sciascia, Blue Phantom (not to be confused with Phantom Blue) released only this extremely rare record on the Spider label.

Get fuzzed out over at FM SHADES.