There are just four tunes on Hot Buttered Soul, the most remarkable of which are the twelve minute version of Bacharach and David’s “Walk on by”, and the near nineteen minute reading of Jimmy Webb’s “By the time I get to Phoenix”. Rock bands had been pushing beyond the three minute barrier for several years, but soul music was still in thrall to the 45 and its time constraints. Ike blew that idea out of the water with this, and at the same time invented seventies bedroom soul (see Barry White, Teddy Pendergrass etc). Norman Whitfield was also taking the Temptations into the realm of lengthy funk workouts, with a social dimension hitherto entirely absent in Motown music. Cloud Nine (Gordy) had the nine minute “Run away child, running wild” and Puzzle People had the lengthy anthems “Message from a Black Man” and “Slave”. Sly & The Family Stone had been pioneers in rock/soul crossover, and Stand (Epic) was their best LP to date. Less lauded soul records are the mercurial Bettye Swann’s two great albums on Capitol: The Soul View Now and Don’t You Ever Get Tired of Hurting Me, and the Imprtessions’ The Young Mod’s Forgotten Story (Curtom).
Back to the theme of classic 1969 albums disappearing without a trace, 32 year old jazz pianist and singer Roberta Flack’s soul jazz take on songs from sources as disparate as Gospel, Latin, Anglo-Scottish folk singers and Canadian poets was a particualrly strong and surprisingly cohesive record. It was well reviewed, but only reached the wider public three years later when her version of “The first time ever I saw your face” became a massive hit on the back of Clint Eastwood’s film Play Misty For Me.
Miles threw the cat among the pigeons with this. There was much clutching of pearls from the jazz establishment. How dare he use electronics, tape edits etc etc. Each side is a single piece, and the mood is mellow – it’s a far cry from the obsessively busy nature of most jazz-fusion records. The eight piece band includes virtually all the main players in seventies fusion: Wayne Shorter, John McLaughlin, Dave Holland, Tony Williams, and no fewer than three keyboard players in Chick Corea, Herbie Hancock and Joe Zawinul.
The Band’s second album had no Dylan songs, but was all self-penned. It’s another kind of fusion record, mixing ballads of the old west with a loose, country rock feel. For a bunch of Canadians, they seemed to nail the old South down to a tee, without the flag-waving braggadocio of the southern rockers to come (hello Lynyrd Skynyrd). Dylan’s Nashville Skyline (Columbia) went down an even-more country road than its predecessor and featured a duet with Johnny Cash whose own scond live in prison record Johnny Cash At San Quentin (Columbia) was at least the equal of the first.
It’s not the first prog album, but it is the first really convincing fusion of orchestration, jazz and rock, with long, drawn out tracks, chopping and changing time signatures, flutes, saxophones and mellotrons. “21st Century Schizoid Man” is an astonishing opening statement, as wild and brutal as anything Van Der Graaf Generator came up with, whilst the title track does the symphonic mellotron thing later picked up and run with by Tony Banks. There is a lot of prententious, po-faced, and plain silly prog. But this album shows how good it can be when ambition and ability go hand in hand.
What have I missed? A trio of great San Francisco albums, two predominantly live (Jefferson Airplane’s Volunteers (RCA Victor), Quicksilver Messenger Service’s Happy Trails (Capitol) and The Grateful Dead’s Live / Dead (Warner Brothers). The British rock underground gave the world two enormous albums by Led Zeppelin (both Atlantic), ex Cream mainstay Jack Bruce’s exquisite Songs for a Tailor (Polydor), Pink Floyd’s seriously underrated film soundtrack More (EMI Columbia), and Procol Harum’s epic A Salty Dog (Regal Zonophone). Canadian troubadours Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell and Neil Young came up with the goods with, respectively, Songs From A Room (Columbia), Clouds (Reprise) and Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (Reprise). Love fell apart and were rebuilt in Arthur Lee’s image to make their last great album Four Sail (Elektra), and fellow Angelinos Spirit came up wit their third excellent album Clear (Ode). Now without John Cale, the Velvet Underground reined themselves in with the realtively restrained self-titled third album (Verve). Captain Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica (Reprise) doesn’t feel as revolutionary or influential as it did in the eighties and nineties, but it’s still a sharp collection. More revolutionary were Can’s Monster Movie (United Artists) and White Noise’s An Electric Storm (Island), a David Vorhaus project which featured important contributions by Delia Derbyshire and Brian Hodgson. “Black Mass: an electric storm in Hell” is astonishing. Finally, the Beatles and the Stones. Abbey Road is an overrated hodge-podge. George Harrison’s two songs are brilliant, as is the lengthy second side medley. “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”? really? and Lennon’s seven minute dirge “I want you” is just awful. Let It Bleed, though, is classic Stones from start to finish.