This weekend I was going through the latest of The Complete Motown Singles reissue series and found yet another, really sick rendition of the song by a group called Brass Monkey. I thought I couldn't love this song anymore - thought there was nothing more to pull out of it arrangement-wise. Not even close.
The Brass Monkey treatment of "You Keep Me Hangin' On" is weirdly modern, from the mix to the guitar tones, to the stop-start drumm figure. And goddamnit, the ugly sound that comes out of his throat at the 2:40 mark is a sign of desperation. I hope he's okay.
Brass Monkey - "You Keep Me Hangin' On" [From The Complete Motown Singls, Vol. 11a]
Older post:
About three years ago, a friend turned me onto the Trojan Records Originals box set, a collection of early reggae recordings, some of which later became hits when other groups covered them (Like "Red, Red Wine"), but all of which were the first productions of the songs. We were particularly fascinated with a track called "Please Don't Make Me Cry" by Winston Groovy and its brilliantly goofy arrangement that featured a use of synthesizers about three decades ahead of its time.
As I borrowed and began to absorb the box set, I quickly got obsessed with these recordings. The productions are often shockingly quirky, with really bizarre and angular hooks, the warmest drum sounds of all time, and an addicting distortion in the mixes. There are deeply soulful performances featuring some of the greatest soul singers I've ever heard. Genius actually, and I don't use that word lightly. I think that some of these guys, like Alton Ellis, Ken Boothe, Delroy Wilson and Dennis Brown are easily on par with the great American soul singers like Sam Cooke, Al Green and Smokey Robinson... only weirder. Unfortunately, while those American artists received recognition in their lifetime and a lasting legacy, many of their Jamaican counterparts were mostly unknown outside of their native country (sometimes even in their native country) during their paltry "careers" and are today largely forgotten.
I've always had a bad association in my mind with the word "reggae" that probably stems back to college and the abuse of Rasta paraphanalia in dorm-hippie culture. Bob Marley is the name brand for the genre, and his most famous records left me cold (I've since come around to the greatness that is early Wailers). And I'm not sure if I can really get with music being made today under the reggae label. But after getting hooked on the Trojan Originals box set, I began a dig for more material of similar style and quality, and it's an obsession that is still going strong. I now have probably between 50 and 75 cuts that I personally consider essential.
I think that the emotional quality of this early Jamaican soul music (which is how I've decided to refer to it) just fits my life and temperament better now than the darkness and theatricality of the groups I used to get off on, like Fugazi, Radiohead or PJ Harvey. There is definitely a melancholy current flowing beneath the surface of these tunes, a kind of resigned sadness that is part of most third-world culture. But there is just as much joy and warmth, which is just something I find more interesting these days. Not a fake, peppy joy, but an earned joy, that was yanked from down deep. Plus, it's just rhythmic Christmas for me, with pockets so sick that all I can do sometimes is just laugh at how good they are.
It's weird. These days, besides electronic music, I listen to Jamaican soul music probably more than anything else, but I've barely blogged about any of my discoveries. I guess part of me just wanted to keep it to myself or didn't know if other people would hear and appreciate the same things I was hearing (my girlfriend, for example, couldn't care LESS). But today, I'll start adding a pinch of it into the mix of this blog.
Since I already made the Detroit/Jamaica comparison, I think a good place to begin would be with two cover versions of the track "You Keep Me Hangin' On," which was a huge hit in the 60s for Motown group The Supremes.
The first version, "Set Me Free," is by Ken Boothe, who occupies about as much space on my mp3 player as any other artist of any genre.
Ken Boothe - "Set Me Free" [From Studio One Soul]
I first heard this track in a restaurant outside of Cincinati. My band was there to play a show and when we got to the venue, it was closed - the promoter had flaked. Luckily someone pointed us to a local burrito joint. The place nearly saved our souls. Besides serving burritos the size of watermelons, the jukebox was stocked with tons of old soul and reggae. When this track came up on the system, I think I had an out-of-body experience from the combination of good 'rito and good jams.
I love how Boothe doesn't even bother to use the original title. I also love the whacky Ennio Morricone meets Shuggie Ottis instrumental tag on the intro. Eventually, the track descends into extremely crude dub in its second half, but it doesn't matter. Boothe did his damage. Listen to how Boothe's singing constantly plays with going flat. It's kind of his signature move. He stops just this side of letting it get ugly every time.
As much as I adore Boothe's rendering, I think I might love this Mike Dorane version even more. It's more low-key, but the way he arranges the chorus is brilliant, singing a falsetto harmony of the traditional melody instead of the melody itself. He's basically banking on the fact that the listener already knows the tune, and that that implication is strong enough in the listener's mind to supply the hook while he provides embellishment. It's a bold move, and totally works.
Sadly, I couldn't even find a decent photo of Mike Durane on the internet.
Mike Dorane - "You Keep Me Hanging On" [From Trojan Soulful Reggae Box Set]
No comments:
Post a Comment