Funkadelic - Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On

Released - April 1974

Genre - Funk

Producer - George Clinton

Selected Personnel - Bernie Worrell (Keyboards/Vocals); Calvin Simon (Vocals/Percussion); Boogie Mosson (Bass/Vocals); Eddie Hazel (Guitar/Vocals); Garry Shider (Guitar/Vocals); George Clinton (Vocals); Tiki Fulwood (Percussion/Vocals); Ron Bykowski (Guitar/Vocals); Gary Bronson (Drums); Jimmy Calhoun (Bass); Leon Patillo (Piano); Ty Lampkin (Percussion)

Standout Track - Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts

So, back to my ongoing funk odyssey for the first time in a while (although, Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On being a 1974 release, this post does at least finally tie my newfound funk obsession with this blog's vague chronology). As I explained back in my review for Funkadelic's 1971 classic Maggot Brain, at the start of the year I decided to try and get into classic funk a bit more off the back of my love of the glossy disco funk of Chic and the swaggering pop-rock funk of Prince. After listening to Isaac Hayes' Shaft soundtrack, this developed into a concurrent interest in classic soul but, while that separate interest led me to discover some truly great albums, it's funk that has the real mesmeric hold over me at the moment. It's perhaps significant that my interest in the genre has coincided with an ongoing interest in New Age spiritualism that I'm still trying to get my head around (essentially, I don't know whether I can convince myself to really believe in energy channelling and the like, but I feel hugely inspired and motivated by the ideals of positive attitude and constructive mental states at the heart of a lot of New Ageism), and oddly I've found that the two interests have really played off each other and inspired one another immensely.

Essentially, so much music aspires either to be artistically ambitiously and pompously theatrical, or to be more minimalist and therefore more emotionally sincere. Funk music, particularly as exemplified by George Clinton's twin Parliament-Funkadelic projects, seems to be able to bridge this gap. The "P-Funk Mythology," an entire complex mystical philosophy surrounding the very music the collective created combines bizarre imaginative cartoon flights of fancy (essentially, the Mighty Boosh's inspired spoof about "The Funk" being an alien being that squirted black milk at Parliament that gave them powers isn't half as weird as Parliament's own backstory for how their music works) with genuinely insightful exercises in positive thinking and spiritual sensitivity, and the message at the heart of both extremes seems to be a rare and genuine belief in the power of music to communicate directly with someone's soul and channel a strong and pure emotion. Whether that's communicating party vibes via the cartoonish imagery of Parliament, or a harrowing exploration of grief as explored on "Maggot Brain," that feels to me to be what's at the heart of Clinton's music, and why it's come to mean a huge amount to me in a short time. The sheer faith and conviction in the power of music, and the ability to explore that both with sincerity and with his tongue firmly in his cheek, marks him out as a mind that gels so strongly with my own world view that it's genuinely come to fascinate me.

Of the P-Funk albums I've heard so far, perhaps the one that encapsulates that revelation best for me (while perhaps not necessarily the best) is 1974's Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On, thanks largely to the incredible effect the song "Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts" has had on me since I first heard it. It's nowhere near as fun an album as Parliament's later classics, or even Funkadelic's more politically charged 1978 classic One Nation Under A Groove, nor quite as surprising and consistent as Maggot Brain, and it's probable that without that one song it might not make this list, but there's still plenty to enjoy here either way.

The albums recorded after the immense success of Maggot Brain generally seem to be regarded as something of a letdown, and I've not yet listened to them to be able to judge just how far that's true, but seeing as Standing On The Verge... is considered to be a return to form and also marks the return of guitarist Eddie Hazel, it might be fair to assume that his departure due to financial concerns hurt the band somewhat and left them wondering quite where to go next. Certainly, Hazel had been hugely instrumental in the success of that album, being the man behind the iconic title track itself (his replacement was Catfish Collins, whose brother Bootsy also joined to replace outgoing bassist Billy Bass Nelson. Bootsy Collins would go on to be a hugely significant figure in the P-Funk stable, although most of his more influential work would be on Parliament records, where he would experiment with treatments and effects on his bass contributions that saw him heralded as the Hendrix of the instrument.)

But in 1974, after a spell in prison for drug possession and assault, Hazel returned to Funkadelic for one more outing with them (not technically his last, but the last album to which he would be a significant creative contributor). Indeed, given that both Parliament and Funkadelic usually see limited musical contributions from band leader George Clinton himself and it's occasionally difficult to work out exactly to what extent he's calling the shots, here it feels very much like this is Hazel's record. Every song is a co-write by Clinton and Hazel (with keyboardist Bernie Worrell also co-writing on opener "Red Hot Mama,") while the entire album is built around Hazel's searing, incendiary guitar and red hot riffing. Worrell's keyboards, whose bouncy, swirling, squelchy sound would become a defining element of Parliament's sound, are very much relegated to the background for the most part, while the bass (here played mostly by Boogie Mosson and Jimmy Calhoun), while it anchors and propulsively drives the music, is far from the showstopping centre of attention Bootsy Collins would make it on Clinton's later records.

Essentially, for most of the album we are just listening to Hazel cut loose with a variety of ferocious riffs and jams, but he's a guitarist of such talent that it's hard to complain. Clinton is also able to demonstrate the band's sheer range even within such a relatively limited framework, showcasing not just their profundity and beauty and their ability to rock out fearsomely, but thirdly, also their wicked buffoonish sense of humour. In the nonsensical sped-up and slowed-down spoken word vocal that kicks off "Red Hot Mama," or the further sped-up vocals at the start of the title track (inanely reciting the mantra "Hey lady, I'll be your tree and you can be my dog and you can pee on me,") show that Clinton is one who feels no compulsion to take music seriously and can have a lot of fun with it. But when the riff of "Red Hot Mama" kicks in, things get angry and seriously cool very quickly in one of Funkadelic's finest aggressive jams. "Alice In My Fantasies" is a similar piece, albeit even more frenetic and propulsive, after which the sultry and slow groove of "I'll Stay" drops the pace a bit, with its breezy, swooning choral vocals.

Two of the weaker tracks on offer here are actually two of the songs that try to take a different approach to the generally hard rocking, guitar riff-driven nature of much of the album. "Sexy Ways" is a sort of coy, eyelash-batting piece of upbeat pop, while "Jimmy's Got A Little Bit Of Bitch Of Him" is slight and forgettable despite the best intentions of its bouncy melody. The title track is another fearsome jam in the mould of the opening two tracks, and perhaps the most convincing and exciting of the three. And then, rounding things off in magnificent style is "Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts," a song that I first heard a couple of months ago while trying to wrestle with a couple of significant problems that were causing me a fair bit of emotional distress at the time. The first time I heard it, I broke down crying and ended up walking round the park in the rain listening to it on repeat (all twelve minutes of it about five times through) until I felt that I truly understood what it was saying. Even before the slowed-down vocals kick in halfway through, it's already a breathtakingly and transformatively beautiful piece of music, Hazel slowly and meticulously improvising on his guitar, effortlessly turning out beautiful, languid twists and turns of melody, an atmosphere so blissfully reposed and calm that one can't help but stop what you're doing and be transported by it the first time you hear it. It's admittedly a close retread of the formula for "Maggot Brain," but this time it feels like Hazel is channelling bliss rather than grief and horror, exploring the instrument in the same way but letting it communicate all his feelings of relief and gratitude and love rather than his fears.

The vocals themselves have been some of the most enormously powerful and important words I've heard in a long time, and stopped me dead in my tracks when I first heard them as they so closely mirrored a lot of that New Age thought I've been reading into over the last year that's helped change so much of my attitude to love, life, my friends and family, the way I work creatively and so much else. To stumble across an obscure song from 1974 that perfectly articulated everything I'd been struggling to understand for a whole year was a genuinely humbling and powerful experience, and there are ideas within this monologue that I've been obsessively turning over in my mind ever since, most notably the beautiful line "Your life is yours, it fits you like your skin" or the reflections on being careful what "thought seeds you plant in the garden of your mind, for seeds grow after their kind." I'm currently working on a comedy show in which I'm trying very hard to articulate the idea that one can accept that, as Clinton puts it, "life is an endless unfoldment" and can accept the flaws and contradictions within their nature as long as they also accept the fact that they are always changing and improving, and that their life and future is entirely open to them provided they approach it with the right mindset and the right attitude to their thoughts. To hear Clinton sum up some of the philosophies I was toying with so perfectly was a wonderful thing, and has just helped me further to find more conviction in what I do and to care all the more about the people I love since I first heard it.

So there we have it - a piece of music that, if listened to in the right mindset, is genuinely truly transformational and groundbreaking, and a collection of great, fearsome funk jams, and altogether we have an album that showcases the profundity, the humour and the effortless cool of this group of talented musicians. That it also manages to make an important point about music's ability to inspire emotional purity is all the better. At this stage, Funkadelic was still the single band Clinton was leading, but in 1974 he would reform his old doo-wop band the Parliaments under the simplified name Parliament, consisting of largely the same musicians as Funkadelic. Over subsequent years he would run both together as a unified group but as two separate entities, with Parliament driving for a more commercial, horns and keyboard oriented funk approach and Funkadelic pursuing the more guitar-based psychedelic rock routes they had already started down. With Funkadelic Clinton had already explored ideas of emotional sincerity and hard rock stylings. Parliament now provided him with an opportunity to really have fun and push some of his more flamboyant ideas to the forefront, and 1976's Mothership Connection would enable him to do that to an extreme.

Track Listing:

1. Red Hot Mama (Bernie Worrell; George Clinton & Eddie Hazel)

2. Alice In My Fantasies (George Clinton & Eddie Hazel)

3. I'll Stay (George Clinton & Eddie Hazel)

4. Sexy Ways (George Clinton & Eddie Hazel)

5. Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On (George Clinton & Eddie Hazel)

6. Jimmy's Got A Little Bit Of Bitch In Him (George Clinton & Eddie Hazel)

7. Good Thoughts, Bad Thoughts (George Clinton & Eddie Hazel)

Focus - Hamburger Concerto

Released - April 1974

Genre - Progressive Rock

Producer - Mike Vernon

Selected Personnel - Thijs Van Leer (Organ/Flute/Piano/Harpsichord/Vocals); Jan Akkerman (Guitar); Bert Ruiter (Bass); Colin Allen (Drums)

Standout Track - Birth

As I've mentioned elsewhere in my reviews of Focus's first few albums, my love of the oddball group of Dutch prog rockers goes way back to gorging on my step-dad's classic rock collection in the mid-90s, but I essentially rediscovered them at uni when a friend of mine reminded me of the existence of their seminal track "Hocus Pocus," which I hadn't heard in years. After finding them again I was keen to rediscover all the albums I'd enjoyed as a kid - their seminal albums Moving Waves and Focus 3 and the unusually great live album At The Rainbow - but soon decided it was time to delve further into their discography and listen to the albums I hadn't heard as a kid. First was their debut In And Out Of Focus, which is good but inconsistent, and then their delayed follow-up to Focus 3, Hamburger Concerto. I first listened to Hamburger Concerto expecting to be disappointed, considering that Focus never really achieved any great degree of chart success outside of Moving Waves and Focus 3, and it's fairly difficult to even find much passionate support for any of their more obscure work online.

As it turns out, the lack of love for Hamburger Concerto is one of the most unjust thing about Focus's career - never mind the fact that even the legacy of "Hocus Pocus" has these days passed many people by, the fact that this album isn't recognised as one of the finest prog records of the early 70s is bordering on criminal. It's easily their most consistent album, with not a single minute of music that feels like unnecessary filler (the opening "Delitae Musicae" may not be hugely inspiring, but it's a brief and effective prelude to the album to come). If it weren't for the titanic brilliance of their earlier hits "Hocus Pocus" and "Sylvia," I'd be tempted to declare Hamburger Concerto as their finest album outright.

That it turned out so well is certainly surprising, as things in the lead-up to its release didn't look good. With Focus 3, the band had managed to do the impossible and follow up the smash hit "Hocus Pocus" with an album just as exciting and inventive and a song in "Sylvia" that matched its predecessor. But the next step from there wasn't clear. The band began working on material that was ultimately shelved due to disagreements about their musical direction (this material would be released in 1976 under the title Ship Of Memories as a kind of retrospective document after the departure of guitarist and founding member Jan Akkerman and, while it's good, it's clear that the band were struggling to come up with a coherent new direction for themselves). The live album At The Rainbow was released as an interim measure while they worked hard to find inspiration for the next studio album. All this internal wrangling might have suggested that the band was teetering on the brink of collapse, but the time afforded them by At The Rainbow clearly allowed them to galvanize themselves in order to produce another masterpiece.

Essentially, it follows in a similar vein to the cartoonish prog-rock jazz fusion instrumentals of their previous work, although with a far tighter focus and greater coherence, while also leaning more heavily on organist and flautist Thijs Van Leer's classical training than they had previously. While Focus 3 in particular had pushed the jazz fusion jam element of their music to the forefront, here there was a return to the almost Medieval sound of songs like "House Of The King" and the heavily classical compositional structures of pieces like "Eruption" from Moving Waves. These influences lend the album a greater sense of orchestral grandeur than before, whether it be through the harpsichord and stately, graceful flute parts of "Birth" or the baroque-sounding mandolin and recorder of "Delitae Musicae," or, most obviously, the vast sprawling classical suite that is the title track.

It's by no means a radical change of direction, though, as classical music had always been in the blood of Focus's music, just never so obviously as here. Once the overture of "Delitae Musicae" is finished, the familiar Focus of old bursts into life as bold as ever in the form of the blistering "Harem Scarem." It's been called an inferior rewrite of "Hocus Pocus," something I've never felt is a fair description and is based largely on the similarity of the titles. Both are fun, breakneck rockers, but "Harem Scarem" more than distinguishes itself from its (admittedly superior) predecessor by virtue of its pounding, punishing piano riff and upbeat, jazzy interludes. Van Leer gives a characteristically psychotic vocal part with yet more gibberish singing, but it's by no means a direct imitation of his iconic yodelling from that earlier song. After the furious pace of that song, things let up a bit with "La Cathedrale De Strasbourg," an eerily atmospheric piece of music that's perhaps the most emotive thing the band ever wrote, focusing as it does on an ethereal, haunting quality rather than a straight-up prog jam. Akkerman's tastefully restrained guitar interweaves with Van Leer's piano and, while the ghostly mood might be punctured ever so slightly by the lyrics "La cathedrale de Strasbourg, ding dong, ding dong," Van Leer's eery whistling that follows soon after is one of the coolest and, simultaneously, most chilling moments in the band's discography.

Easily the standout moment of the album is Akkerman's incredible "Birth." Being the only significant composition on the album written by Akkerman on his own, it's surprising and commendable that it's far more than just a showcase for his own guitar skills. He steals the show towards the song's end with an explosive solo, but for most of its length his searing guitar lines play second fiddle to Van Leer's harpsichord and slow, stately organ part, as well as his occasional flute contributions. "Birth" is perhaps the band's finest slow-burn song, progressing through a slow, meditative, pseudo-classical motif towards an ever more frenetic finale that truly explodes into life when Van Leer's flute solo goes from tasteful and gentle to a full-blown, lung-bursting show of virtuosity that's easily the best thing he ever did with the instrument and even gives Ian Anderson, the reigning king of flute rock, a serious run for his money.

"Hamburger Concerto" itself is another twenty-minute epic organised as a multi-part suite in the vein of "Eruption," this time modelled on Brahms' Variations On A Theme, and constantly shifts dynamics from grand, classically influenced organ parts and harpsichord flourishes to faster, more intense interplay between organ and guitar and the odd gibberish vocal from Van Leer. Perhaps the finest moment of the piece is around the middle when Akkerman's razor's edge descending guitar line accompanies a portentous organ as the tempo drops to a menacing crawl. It admittedly lacks the focus and concision of the other songs on the album, and for that reason is perhaps the least memorable piece here, but that's picking hairs with an album that's almost faultless and, while it's long, there's not a single moment on the title track that doesn't excite and fascinate the listener.

Hamburger Concerto did fairly decent business at the time, but the accusations of lead single "Harem Scarem" being a "Hocus Pocus" clone hurt the album's success, and the band's pride, and they unwisely decided to try and catalyse a true change in musical direction. It's a great shame, as this is easily not only one of their best works, but also a real high point in the history of prog rock in general, and if the band had had the confidence to keep going in the same vein I'm sure they could have continued delivering quality material. Sadly, they decided to go in a sort of jazz-lite, elevator muzak direction for the appalling followup, 1975's Mother Focus, which was received with such hostility that Akkerman decided to throw in the towel and pursue a solo career. The loss of Akkerman didn't help the sliding quality of the band's work, and essentially the only decent material released under the band's name for many years was the aforementioned Ship Of Memories retrospective. From then on, the band released a couple of further terrible albums before disappearing completely for a couple of decades. Up until one of the most unexpected (and incongruously brilliant) comebacks with 2002's Focus 8.

Track Listing:

1. Delitae Musicae (Jan Akkerman)

2. Harem Scarem (Thijs Van Leer)

3. La Cathedrale De Strasbourg (Thijs Van Leer)

4. Birth (Jan Akkerman)

5. Hamburger Concerto (Thijs Van Leer & Jan Akkerman)

Elton John - Caribou

Released - June 1974

Genre - Glam Rock

Producer - Gus Dudgeon

Selected Personnel - Elton John (Vocals/Piano); Davey Johnstone (Guitar/Mandolin); Dee Murray (Bass); Nigel Olsson (Drums); Ray Cooper (Percussion); Dusty Springfield (Backing Vocals); David Hentschel (Synthesiser); Lenny Pickett (Saxophone/Clarinet)

Standout Track - The Bitch Is Back

Recorded in a scant two-week period in between touring commitments and sandwiched chronologically between the two best-loved albums of Elton John's 70s commercial peak (namely 1973's outstanding Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and 1975's less good but still great Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy), 1974's Caribou is an album many a casual Elton John fan probably forgets exists. Perversely, the two hit singles from the album, the grandiose ode to life of "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me" and the glam rock sass of "The Bitch Is Back" are two of Elton's best-loved greatest hits, but still their parent album remains largely neglected. To be fair, it doesn't do itself many favours by having a major dip in quality in the middle of the album, and anybody who genuinely tried to defend it as being as good as either of the albums it nestles between has something wrong with them, but if you give it time it's actually far more than just two great singles and a whole bunch of filler, and is worthy of respect as an album in its own right.

By the end of 1973, Elton John was riding a wave of success that saw him as one of the most prominent musicians in the world. Having more than proven himself as a serious and thoughtful singer-songwriter with his run of early albums, Don't Shoot Me I'm Only The Piano Player and Goodbye Yellow Brick Road had proven that he was also enormously capable of really having fun through music and of rocking out on occasion, while his outlandish and colourful fashion sense had momentarily placed him at the vanguard of the glam rock movement. By 1974, glam rock was on the wane ever so slightly, with Marc Bolan's greatest successes behind him and David Bowie consciously trying to distance himself from that scene and towards American soul with Diamond Dogs. Elton John had none of the same concerns as Bowie about creative exhaustion or about continuing to try and satiate a musical audience that was already looking for something new, and Caribou very much sees him in business-as-usual mode. The outrageous cover shot of Elton in huge sunglasses and tiger-print shirt showed that, more than on any other album yet, the principal aim of the album was a sense of humour and fun, and most of the album bears out that promise, from his highly mannered, tongue-in-cheek nonsense vocals on "Solar Prestige A Gammon" to the smirking country twang of "Dixie Lily."

It's a shame, in a way, that the album wears its naffness on its sleeve so boldly, as its strongest moments are actually far from naff and approach either genuine cool, or even profundity. But from "Grimsby" all the way through to "I've Seen The Saucers" the album consists basically of very simple, upbeat, smirking pop rock that's essentially generic at best. "Solar Prestige A Gammon" is perhaps the most interesting of this mid-record lull, as it saw Elton challenging his lyricist and longstanding songwriting partner Bernie Taupin to write him a set of total nonsense lyrics which he then had to make musically compelling. It's the sort of "sonic invention above lyrical insight" lateral approach to songwriting that would have made Brian Eno nod in approval, and the template for a truly interesting song, but sadly that over-stylised sense of pomp in Elton's voice as he sings matched with a not particularly compelling melody make it something of a failed experiment. "You're So Static" has a cool, punchy horn section lending it some interest but beyond that really struggles to ignite the listener's excitement.

As far as I can tell, it can only be down to this run of uninspired and faintly dull songs that clogs up the middle of the album that accounts for its bad reputation, because if you were to judge it from its opening and its ending it would score hugely. "The Bitch Is Back" is, pure and simple, perhaps the finest rock song Elton ever wrote. Picking up from "Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting" on Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, where he first truly worked out how to write a stomping glam rock classic around a genuinely cool guitar riff, it features a thrashing, clanging riff and a solid, tight drumbeat over which Elton takes more gleeful pleasure in his energetic vocal performance than anywhere else on the album. The horn section makes for an added dose of funk, and altogether it's by far the best non-piano-based song of his career. "Pinky" is hardly a classic track, but has a genuinely pretty tune that follows on from the clatter of "The Bitch Is Back" in fine form. From there it's rapidly downhill before "Stinker" picks things back up towards the album's close.

With its slow, sluggish groove anchored by Dee Murray's bass and Nigel Olsson's drums, Elton adds the jazzy ornamentation of further horns and flurries of jazzy organ while belting out a spirited vocal in a meaty slab of plodding, arrogant and outright cool rock music. It's followed by one of the most timeless and beautiful ballads of his career in "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me," a song that emerges from a quiet, soft, contemplative voice accompanied only by delicate piano into a gloriously orchestrated and passionately triumphant chorus that ranks as one of his most musically cathartic moments as he tries to resolve his feelings for a friend or loved one. It's one of Taupin's finest lyrics, too, and is characteristically opaque in terms of an absolute meaning. Whether it's a plea to a loved one to stay, or an attempt to break things off with a loved one but to remain friends is open to interpretation, but what really comes through is a powerful sense of trying to communicate the value of a person in your life, and to try and get them to understand the effect they've had on you. It's followed up by the epic "Ticking," a breathtakingly beautiful song and one that's all too often forgotten about. Taupin rarely goes for literal storytelling in his lyrics, preferring imagistic poetry, but "Ticking" tells the story of a troubled and lonely child who is misunderstood by family, friends and teachers while growing up and ultimately snaps in early adulthood and attacks and kills a waiter before being gunned down by police. While it by no means demonises the police who mistakenly think he's about to reach for a gun and shoot him down, it does certainly place more empathy and understanding with the killer, which was a strikingly bold move by Taupin, to try and explore and understand the troubles that drive somebody to desperation and to explore the fine line between sanity and madness. Elton wisely chooses not to decorate or orchestrate the song at all but to limit it to just him and his piano for nearly eight minutes, improvising around melodic lines while telling the most heart-breaking story Taupin ever chose to write about.

Like I mentioned, by far the standout moments of the album are a million miles from the grinning, clownish figure we're presented with on the cover, and the more upbeat pop songs that feel like they gel with this image do the album a disservice. The cool rock of "The Bitch Is Back" and "Stinker" and the huge emotional power of "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me" and "Ticking" all indicate a musician of real power and depth and resonance, as any fan who had been listening to him since his early albums already knew. Whether that cover shot was an attempt at misdirection by John to hook in the starry-eyed glam rock crowd to get them to discover some of his more profound music via a collection of further pop tunes is impossible to say, but it's certainly true that Caribou has been lumbered with an unjust reputation as something of a blip between two stronger albums. Admittedly, it's not a patch on Goodbye Yellow Brick Road and it's less consistent than Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy, but that later album, in my opinion, actually has fewer outstanding songs, and there are moments on Caribou that really take your breath away. Well worth overcoming the prejudice surrounding it and giving it a proper chance.

Track Listing:

All songs written by Elton John and Bernie Taupin

1. The Bitch Is Back

2. Pinky

3. Grimsby

4. Dixie Lily

5. Solar Prestige A Gammon

6. You're So Static

7. I've Seen The Saucers

8. Stinker

9. Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me

10. Ticking

Isaac Hayes - Black Moses

Released - November 1971

Genre - Soul

Producer - Isaac Hayes

Selected Personnel - Isaac Hayes (Vocals/Piano/Organ/Keyboards); Ronald Hudson (Bass); Michael Toles (Guitar); James Alexander (Bass); Willie Hall (Drums); Gary Jones (Percussion); Lester Snell (Electric Piano); Charles Pitts (Guitar); Sidney Kirk (Piano); Johnny Allen (Arrangements)

Standout Track - Ike's Rap II/Help Me Love

Post-Shaft, it seems that restraint was the last thing on Isaac Hayes' mind. And, in fairness, why shouldn't it be? He'd just composed and produced the best-selling album on the Stax label (a title it still holds to this day), and the album's iconic title track had become a number one single. In the wake of such success, Hayes had no reason at all to reign himself in and so it is that within just a few months of the release of the Shaft soundtrack he unleashed another vast, sprawling double album with over ninety minutes' worth of material, including several extended ten minute covers of simple soul ballads from the sixties. First things first - Black Moses, like Shaft before it, is another example of the ever-popular trope of double albums falling victim to their own lack of restraint and ending up far longer than the material actually justifies. Some of the songs do little to really excite the listener, while other songs that are perfectly good do outstay their welcome by extending a very simple song to an epic jam. The other complaint to make of Black Moses is that it's a curiously backwards step by Hayes - having just proven his own compositional skills vastly on Shaft, it seems strange that he would then take a backwards step into making another album consisting chiefly of covers of older songs. Similarly, while Shaft had been strikingly forward-looking and up-to-date in places, with the proto-disco of its title track and the raw funk of "Do Your Thing," Black Moses sticks very closely to the slow, sensual soul groove Hayes had already perfected on Hot Buttered Soul and other releases.

These flaws certainly hurt the album a little, and it's notably less consistent than Hot Buttered Soul and less strikingly original than Shaft. But the simple fact is, Hayes has a certain way with classic soul, injecting a familiar format with his own particular character and arrangements, that defies most competition, and the musical highlights of Black Moses stand up as some of the finest things Hayes ever did. Hayes is also infinitely more competent with arranging and singing actual songs than with the fairly formulaic instrumentals that made up much of Shaft, meaning that Black Moses, despite playing it safe, is probably a more enjoyable listening experience. Once again, as on Shaft, it's the orchestral arrangements that steal the show and make up for most of the best moments rather than the core rhythm section, who only really get a couple of moments to show their talents, like the upbeat funk of "Good Love" or "Part-Time Love." This time, the core band on most tracks consists of Hayes' own band, the Isaac Hayes Movement, with Stax's resident band the Bar-Kays, who provided instrumentation on most of Shaft, only contributing to "(They Long To Be) Close To You" and "Going In Circles." Both bands prove more than competent at playing Hayes' arrangements, but there's nothing to rival the stark, epic rawness of "Do Your Thing."

The album's title comes from a nickname given to Hayes by people at Stax in recognition of the iconic status he had established for himself within black communities as a kind of spiritual figurehead. Over the course of a few albums Hayes had modelled himself into "the model of black masculinity," as the people at Stax put it, and became an empowering figure for black men worldwide, but the nickname was one he was deeply uncomfortable with for a long time due to his deep-seated Christianity. Clearly, by the time Black Moses itself emerged it was a squeamishness he had more than overcome, as evidenced by the fact that the original album unfolded into a poster-sized image of Hayes in an ankle-length hooded robe with his arms extended like some sort of Biblical saviour. But that he ultimately accepted with open arms his role as an inspirational guide for disaffected black communities should be seen as a hugely positive thing rather than a cynical commercial one, despite the ever-so-slightly absurd posturing that accompanied it.

Although the slow, gentle sensuality that Hayes imbues into what is largely a collection of traditional and fairly innocent sixties love songs might look tame compared to the far more overt and raw sexuality on later works like Marvin Gaye's iconic Let's Get It On, the fact that he chooses to try and update fairly twee, almost prudish love songs, like the infamously saccharine Burt Bacharach and Hal David number "(They Long To Be) Close To You" with a greater sense of sensuality is clearly a loaded gesture and one that has a strong impact. It's astonishing that he's able to make "(They Long To Be) Close To You" not just musically palatable but one of the highlights of the whole album, but he pulls it off. For the first couple of minutes, consisting only of the chanted refrain and the stirring horn and string arrangements, you even forget exactly what song you're listening to, and by the time Hayes comes in singing the main melody he manages to convert it into a genuinely compelling and impactful love song rather than the piece of sentimental garbage it was in the hands of the Carpenters. The other Bacharach-David cover, "I'll Never Fall In Love Again," is less successful and perhaps the record's weakest moment, Hayes unwisely slowing things down to a snail-like crawl and failing to inject the tune with any sense of passion or real meaning.

Of the other covers, the slow groove he applies to the Jackson 5's "Never Can Say Goodbye" makes for a great, sultry opener that became the album's biggest hit, and "Never Gonna Give You Up" has a playful sense of fun to it via Hayes' interplay with the chirpy refrains of the backing vocalists, with a similar effect to "(They Long To Be) Close To You." The funky guitar riff of Clay Hammond's "Part-Time Love" is another standout moment, and perhaps the closest thing to the meaner guitar moments of "Do Your Thing" or Hot Buttered Soul's "Walk On By," while the falsetto croon and dramatic string arrangements of closer "Going In Circles" are also a stirringly emotive moment.

But it's notable that, on an album consisting almost exclusively of covers, the truly astounding moments are in Hayes' own compositions. Perhaps the best-known moment on the album, albeit by fairly roundabout means, is the hauntingly beautiful "Ike's Rap II," whose descending bassline and plaintive strings were sampled by a number of trip-hop artists in the 90s including Tricky and, most famously, Portishead for their hit "Glory Box." It's a hauntingly powerful musical moment quite rightly returned to for reinvention by later generations and is made all the more powerful by the inclusion of Hayes' desperate, pleading spoken-word vocals begging a lover to give him a second chance. That it then segues into "Help Me Love," perhaps the most stirringly emotional track on the album that veers from desperately broken verses begging for aid to an incongruously triumphant and uplifting chorus replete with horns and strings and even the odd sax solo. Another rap/song segue near the album's end is another highlight in "Ike's Rap IV/A Brand New Me," in which Hayes rejoices in the transformative power of love and its ability to change everything about one's outlook and attitude even when material things remain the same. It's another gloriously uplifting melody and one of the most touchingly simple reflections on the power of love that I've heard in ages.

Admittedly, in these rap/song segue moments, it's unclear exactly what Hayes' compositional contribution was, and it may be he simply wrote the spoken word vocals and others wrote and orchestrated the song, but another huge album highlight is the only song he definitely wrote himself (in collaboration with Mickey Gregory), the enormously fun "Good Love." While many of the songs on the album look at love either with a traditional sense of reverence or with a kind of broken-hearted desperation, "Good Love" is perhaps the only one that really has fun with the theme and explores it with a sort of I-don't-give-a-damn humour. ("Listed in the Yellow Pages all around the world, 30 years' experience in loving sweet young girls.")

Black Moses was another big seller and further cemented Hayes' role as one of the most prominent black musicians of the era, and one of the few willing to push the simple roots of soul music into newer territory (while the style and arrangements of Black Moses might not be as forward-thinking as on Shaft, Hayes was still determined to have fun with music and not limit himself to three-minute radio hits but to let his band play around with things and to indulge themselves). Over subsequent years he would continue releasing music but became increasingly sporadic, and never released anything that became quite so celebrated or iconic as his early 70s output. To a modern audience he is undoubtedly best known for his recurring role as Chef in South Park, which ultimately came to an end amid a debacle regarding his refusal to be complicit in the mockery of his newfound faith in Scientology. It's a shame that Hayes' apparent "I'll deal it out but won't take it back" refusal to allow Trey Parker and Matt Stone to poke fun at his religion having happily contributed to countless other episodes making fun of other creeds and cultures, and the apparent firmness of his faith meant that by the time he died in 2008 it was under a slight cloud as being remembered as another crackpot Scientologist. Until a couple of months ago I knew very little about Hayes' musical work other than the theme from Shaft, and I'm pleased I finally got round to listening to some of his best-known albums as they demonstrate that he's so much more than the fairly obvious caricature of himself he became as Chef, and so much more than just a crackpot Scientologist. Blessed with an unforgettably soulful voice and an obvious talent both with his own compositions and with reworking the songs of others to put his own stamp on them and convey a whole new meaning in them, he's certainly a talent worthy of remembrance and one that anybody who might have dismissed him as a fairly comic figure thanks to his work on South Park should try taking seriously, as there's great stuff to be found.

Track Listing:

1. Never Can Say Goodbye (Clifton Davis)

2. (They Long To Be) Close To You (Burt Bacharach & Hal David)

3. Nothing Takes The Place Of You (Toussaint McCall & Alan Robinson)

4. Man's Temptation (Curtis Mayfield)

5. Never Gonna Give You Up (Kenneth Gamble; Leon Huff & Jerry Butler)

6. Ike's Rap II/Help Me Love (Isaac Hayes; Johnny Baylor; Mickey Gregory; Luther Ingram & Tommy Tate)

7. Need To Belong To Someone (Curtis Mayfield)

8. Good Love (Mickey Gregory & Isaac Hayes)

9. Ike's Rap III/Your Love Is So Doggone Good (Isaac Hayes; Difosco Ervin & Rudy Love)

10. For The Good Times (Kris Kristofferson)

11. I'll Never Fall In Love Again (Burt Bacharach & Hal David)

12. Part Time Love (Clay Hammond)

13. Ike's Rap IV/A Brand New Me (Isaac Hayes; Kenneth Gamble; Thom Bell & Jerry Butler)

14. Going In Circles (Jerry Peters & Anita Poree)

The Electric Light Orchestra - Eldorado

Released - September 1974

Genre - Art Rock

Producer - Jeff Lynne

Selected Personnel - Jeff Lynne (Vocals/Guitar/Bass/Keyboards); Bev Bevan (Drums/Percussion); Richard Tandy (Piano/Keyboards/Synthesisers); Mike De Albuquerque (Bass); Mik Kaminski (Violin); Hugh McDowell (Cello); Mike Edwards (Cello); Louis Clark (Orchestral Arrangements)

Standout Track - Laredo Tornado

After the grandiose, ambitious epics of ELO 2 in 1973, the Electric Light Orchestra began the gradual metamorphosis into a stadium pop-rock band rather than the symphonic art rock group they initially envisioned themselves as. On The Third Day, from later in 1973, saw their more arty and symphonic elements still present and correct with the string parts still carrying many of the main melodies, but that album also saw the band deliver a couple of simple pop singles for the first time in the form of "Showdown" and the brilliant, crunchy rock of  "Ma-Ma-Ma Belle," featuring none other than Marc Bolan on guitar. Eldorado is perhaps the final ELO album on which their initial artistic ambitions are still discernible before they called it a day and and went for full-on pop.

There is still a strong sense that this is in the vein of "early" ELO, with its conceptual premise and its heavily orchestrated overture and symphonic structure (the record is even subtitled "A Symphony by the Electric Light Orchestra,") but now, for the first time, it feels like simple, pop songwriting and catchy hooks and melodies are as much of a concern for Jeff Lynne as are the more progressive elements of the band's early work. There's also a cleanness and a crispness to the sound of the album that's very much a sign of things to come - on albums like The Electric Light Orchestra and ELO 2, there was a rawness and a scratchiness to the sound that derived largely from the fact that every string part was recorded by the band's resident individual string players and were then overdubbed by Lynne, whereas on Eldorado he hired a full orchestra to record the string parts for the first time, with arrangements and conducting handled by Louis Clark, who would become a fixture for most ELO albums in the future. This slightly reductionist approach to the idea of the orchestrations of the album was possibly a major tipping point in the band's transformation - rather than building themselves on the manifesto of playing rock music using classical instrumentation, those orchestral parts simply became another element of the sound that needed to be incorporated one way or the other, with the focus now on the core band and chiefly on Lynne himself.

It's worth pointing out that none of this is necessarily a bad thing, as it becomes increasingly clear when listening through ELO's discography that Jeff Lynne's great strength is in writing catchy pop tunes rather than in masterminding grand, orchestral pieces of progressive music. While ELO 2 showed that he was still capable of delivering something truly original and unusual, but On The Third Day's only real standout moments were its two hit singles, and all the moments of Eldorado where it tries to skew itself towards the conceptual come across as slightly hamfisted. The record is Lynne's first attempt at a concept album, supposedly telling the story of a man whose daydreams become reality but, beyond an opaque opening spoken word narrative that makes very little sense ("The dreamer, the unwoken fool...") and a reprise of the same at the end, it's very difficult to make any coherent narrative of the random songs presented here, and Lynne's efforts to organise it into a conceptual whole via the odd recurring musical theme just feels slightly forced.

But the songwriting is the most consistent and catchily memorable of any ELO album up to this point. "Can't Get It Out Of My Head" is a sweet romantic ballad that became the album's big hit, and "Laredo Tornado" is one of the coolest rock songs the band had recorded yet, and one of the few songs on the album that gives the resident string players (violinist Mik Kaminski and cellists Hugh McDowell and Mike Edwards) some cool riffs to play with rather than just replacing them with a full orchestra. The slow, menacing groove of "Laredo Tornado" as well as its raw, edgy guitar riff makes it one of the most memorable ELO rockers. "Nobody's Child" is a slow, bluesy number dripping with attitude and building to a dramatic, cinematic climax via jazzy piano, punchy horns and scything strings, and "Illusions In G Major" is an almost comically frantic rockabilly number in the Chuck Berry mould that boasts a raucous guitar solo from Lynne. Finally, "Eldorado" is a simply beautiful song with one of Lynne's most magisterial and epic tunes which wouldn't be out of place in the world of Broadway musicals, a mood he was almost certainly chasing with the conceptual ambitions of the album. The closing "Eldorado Finale" is another heavily orchestrated instrumental that sees a reprise from that nonsensical opening voiceover, reminding the casual listener that they're supposed to have been following some sort of story that has probably gone entirely over their head.

While the songs, at their best, are of a quality good enough to guarantee it a place in my heart as an album I really enjoy, it remains perhaps the most frustratingly uneven of the ELO albums I've bothered to include on this list, due to its indecision about what it wants to be. After the art rock masterpiece of ELO 2, and before the pop heights of A New World Record or Out Of The Blue made their appearance, this album tries to do both and struggles to really convince as a symphonic concept album. There's also a sense that, for a brief time at least, ELO had become little more than a Jeff Lynne solo project and that lack of a full band identity harms the atmosphere here ever so slightly. Bassist Mike Du Albuquerque quit the band during the recording of Eldorado due to feeling that touring commitments kept him away from his family for too long, so that the majority of the bass parts on the album are played by Lynne himself, and it's often unclear which keyboard parts were contributed by Lynne and which by Richard Tandy. While Lynne would always remain the band's creative centre, playing many of the instruments and writing all the songs, there is definitely a sense that as they settled into their pop phase they coalesced as a true band once again, while here Lynne's dictatorial takeover of the band, recruiting full orchestras in place of the individual string players, gives him a little too much to try and keep a handle of, and it ends up feeling slightly confused as a result.

Still, for anybody keen on following the work of ELO with any kind of genuine interest, this is a necessary album in that it documents the moment where the band's pop sensibilities first truly outshone their previous artistic ambitions and provided a true glimpse at the stadium pop rock act that was soon to follow. Not only that, but in its finest moments ("Laredo Tornado," "Eldorado," "Nobody's Child,") it really does boast some of Lynne's finest work, and is only let down by being a bit of a confused mess in select places. The album would achieve success in the US, but made little impact in the UK, a dynamic that would be true of much of the band's career. The next step was 1975's Face The Music, an album that delivered their first huge hit in the brilliant "Evil Woman," but that actually emerges as a frustratingly uneven and fairly tedious album other than a couple of hit singles. 1976's A New World Record would finally grant them success back on home turf in the UK and sees them firmly settled into their pop shoes, delivering something far more confident and assured in that mould. But more on that another day.

Track Listing:

All songs written by Jeff Lynne.

1. Eldorado Overture

2. Can't Get It Out Of My Head

3. Boy Blue

4. Laredo Tornado

5. Poor Boy (The Greenwood)

6. Mister Kingdom

7. Nobody's Child

8. Illusions In G Major

9. Eldorado

10. Eldorado Finale

Marvin Gaye - Let's Get It On

Released - August 1973

Genre - Soul

Producer - Marvin Gaye & Ed Townsend

Selected Personnel - Marvin Gaye (Vocals/Piano); David T. Walker (Guitar); Eddie Willis (Guitar); Robert White (Guitar); Don Peake (Guitar); Wilton Felder (Bass); James Jamerson (Bass); Joe Sample (Piano); Eddie Brown (Drums); Plas Johnsson (Percussion); Emil Richards (Percussion); Victor Feldman (Percussion); David Van De Pitte (Orchestral Arrangements)

Standout Track - Let's Get It On

In 1973, having established himself as one of the first Motown artists to try and inject social commentary and conceptual structures into the previously simple templates of soul music via the landmark album What's Going On, Marvin Gaye went on to cast himself in the role he is probably best remembered as today, that of the music world's most iconic sex symbol. In the title track to Let's Get It On he created a song that has become such a gold standard sex anthem that its presence in films and TV series has long ago become a tedious comedy trope (one that I've resorted to in previous comedy routines myself before I remembered how terribly unimaginative it was). But the album it sits proudly at the front of is in itself one of the most passionate and heartfelt odes to sex and love ever recorded, and one that's actually far more thoughtful and intelligent than the "Bom chicka wah wah" reputation its title track has unfairly earned.

It was with great surprise that I initially learned of Gaye's troubled relationship with sex prior to the release of Let's Get It On. Though he had already recorded countless love songs and his stage presence had always been infused with an energy and passion bordering on sexual, he was far from the suave lothario he has been remembered as. Growing up under the puritanical influence of his preacher father Marvin Gay, Snr. (who would eventually become notorious for tragically shooting and killing Gaye himself in the 80s), Marvin Gaye had the fundamentalist Christian messages of the evils of sexual urges drilled into him from an early age, made all the more severe by his father's physically abusive nature. This upbringing manifested itself in adulthood via a combination of impotence and a tendency towards sadomasochistic fantasies that wracked him with guilt and depression. Far from being something he was totally comfortable with, the idea of sex was one that both fascinated and terrified and disgusted him all at once. In 1972 Gaye was also suffering from a kind of myopic depression stemming from writers' block in the wake of the enormous success of What's Going On and from his ongoing difficulty being separated from his wife Anna Gordy. Ultimately, he would triumph over this writers' block by confronting his fears and problems with sex head-on, and by finally managing to develop some kind of methodology for sex where he was able to render himself comfortable with it, via equating it with a spiritual love for God.

The sexuality of Let's Get It On, then, is no covert mood of sensual soul Gaye snuck into the writing process, it becomes a guiding manifesto for the entire record, which initially came complete with a short treatise by Gaye in which he proclaimed "I contend that SEX IS SEX and LOVE IS LOVE. When combined, they work well together," before concluding "I don't believe in overly moralistic philosophies." The sensual groove of the music on the album represented Gaye coming to terms with love and sex as a natural part of humanity's spiritual journey towards God, and it's from that final sense of acceptance that the album's enormous sense of passion and steaminess stems from, and in that sense it's so much more than a comically overt sex album, it's a genuinely profound and intelligent exploration into what love means, and how one can make sense of it.

Largely, Gaye recruits most of the same cohorts from the hugely successful What's Going On sessions, from the orchestral arrangements of David Van De Pitte to the rhythm tracks of the Funk Brothers, who are generally more prominent throughout here than on that earlier record. Van De Pitte's orchestrations rarely carry the melody as they did frequently before, and it's notable that the song that's driven more than any other by the strings, the fairly downbeat and uninspired closer "Just To Keep You Satisfied" is probably the weakest moment on the album. Driven by Gaye's sense of passion and spiritual and romantic longing, Let's Get It On succeeds far better in the more upbeat and rhythmic tracks, though Van De Pitte's orchestrations do provide wonderful support throughout. The standout moment is, of course, that title track, instantly iconic in that three-note opening guitar riff from Funk Brothers guitarist Don Peake. It's a shame it's a song that's become so steeped in cliche, as if one really tries to listen to it for what it is, its epic majesty is quickly apparent. Gaye's vocal performance is perhaps the best he's ever given, from impassioned, orgiastic cries to smooth, sultry croons. Curiously, Gaye had initially written the song as a spiritual piece before Motown songwriter Kenneth Stover rewrote it as a political piece. The album's producer Ed Townsend was the one to suggest it be done as a straightforward romantic/sexual song, thereby finally bringing the song home to the mood it was always destined to encapsulate, so much so that imagining a different rendition of the song that explored social issues instead is almost unthinkable. To this day, perhaps the only song to rival it in the "most iconic sex song" stakes is Gaye's own huge 1982 hit "Sexual Healing." The reprise of "Let's Get It On" at the end of the album's first half, this time titled "Keep Gettin' It On," is slightly more restrained and frames the idea of sex in a wider socio-political context with talk of making love "as opposed to war," but it's perhaps the only point on the record Gaye even tries to ape the sloganeering and political commentary of What's Going On.

"Please Stay (Once You Go Away)" is a powerfully ecstatic paean of love that builds in intensity with its intensely rhythmic percussion and funk-styled guitar and swirling strings, and of course Gaye's declamatory, pleading vocals. "Come Get To This" is probably the best song on the album that a new listener will probably already be unfamiliar with - again, it's the loping, thudding percussive sound that really steals the show, and sees Gaye at his most playfully jubilant in an invitation to a sexual encounter with a loved one. Other than "Come Get To This," the album's second side is less strong than the first, with the slow and fairly by-the-numbers ballad "Distant Lover" and the aforementioned damp squib of a closer. "You Sure Love To Ball," perhaps the most overt track on the album with the ecstatic moans that kick it off, is an enjoyable song that goes for a more mysterious and sultry vibe with its sustained strings and smoky sax, rather than the more ecstatic and upbeat tone of most of the rest of the album.

Altogether, despite a couple of duff moments, Let's Get It On strikes me as an infinitely more consistent and enjoyable album than What's Going On, albeit perhaps less groundbreaking in its themes and conception. Whereas the sermonising figure of that earlier album was occasionally a little overbearing, the more unrestrained and liberated figure that comes across on this album is altogether more enjoyable and more soulful, and it's for that sense of unfettered delight that this album really takes off. So far, beyond those two albums and a Greatest Hits compilation, I've not gotten round to listening to any more Marvin Gaye, although I might try to find time at some point. Perhaps one of the greatest tragedies of Let's Get It On is that the spiritually fulfilled and passionate character that comes through it would not last and by the early 80s Gaye would be swamped with debts to the IRS and crippled by drug addiction, ultimately becoming suicidal and paranoid before an ongoing feud with his father resulted in a fatal shooting in 1984. Let's Get It On is a brief insight into the great music he was able to make when he found a way to overcome the demons that troubled him habitually, and would continue to do so all the way up until his tragic death.

Track Listing:

1. Let's Get It On (Marvin Gaye & Ed Townsend)

2. Please Stay (Once You Go Away) (Marvin Gaye & Ed Townsend)

3. If I Should Die Tonight (Marvin Gaye & Ed Townsend)

4. Keep Gettin' It On (Marvin Gaye & Ed Townsend)

5. Come Get To This (Marvin Gaye)

6. Distant Lover (Marvin Gaye; Gwen Gordy & Sandra Greene)

7. You Sure Love To Ball (Marvin Gaye)

8. Just To Keep You Satisfied (Marvin Gaye; Anna Gordy Gaye & Elgie Stover)