Seven from Chocolate Industries talks about his compilation Personal Space: Electronic Soul 1974–1984. Producer Apollo Brown discusses Trophies, his collaboration with OC of Diggin’ in the Crates fame. Alex Sowinski and Chester Hansen from jazz trio BadBadNotGood talk about backing Frank Ocean at Coachella and reworking the music of My Bloody Valentine. R&B legend Andre Williams discusses the inspiration behind his two favorite compositions.

Beats by Eric Lau from the track “Outro (Supreme)” taken from The Mission EP.

Playlist

1. “I Am a Man” Key & Cleary
2. Seven interview
3. “My Bleeding Wound” The New Year
4. Apollo Brown interview
5. “Just Walk” Apollo Brown & OC
6. Apollo Brown interview
7. “Prove Me Wrong” Apollo Brown & OC
8. Alex Sowinski & Chester Hansen of BadBadNotGood interview
9. “UWM (feat. Leland Whitty)” BadBadNotGood
10. Alex Sowinski & Chester Hansen of BadBadNotGood interview
11. “You Made Me Realise (feat. Luan Phung)” BadBadNotGood
12. Andre Williams interview
13. “Funky Judge” Bull & the Matadors
14. Andre Williams interview
15. “Shake a Tail Feather” Mitch Ryder
16. Andre Williams interview

Wax Poetics Radio is an open-format podcast that will feature different hosts and DJs playing a variety of music and interviews.

It certainly is a golden time for soul and disco reissues — Wax Po HQ is overflowing with a bounty of treats we never thought we’d see back in circulation. BBE leads the pack with a hefty five-disc set of Al Kent’s notorious Disco Demands re-edits. These sly reworks of ’70s obscurities first saw light as limited, unauthorized 12-inch singles, complete with falsified track info to throw disco trainspotters off the scent. BBE has pulled the curtain back and includes all the proper credits on this legitimate release, an serious hunk of dancefloor weaponry. BBE brings us another unlikely and most welcome reissue with Sandy Barber’s terrific The Best Is Yet to Come. The young diva who would go on to sing several certified club burners turned in a stellar set of uptempo modern soul in 1977 highlighted by the addictive “I Think I’ll Do Some Stepping (On My Own),” which receives two alternate mixes courtesy of the aforementioned Mr. Kent and NYC legend John Morales. BBE’s London-Brooklyn connection continues with a quirky and entirely enjoyable mix from veterano John De Mairo, cofounder of the groundbreaking house music purveyor Henry Street Records. In perfect counterpoint to the Disco Demands rarities collection, Johnny D Presents Disco Jamms is stocked with unjustly forgotten but still affordable early ’80s winners. I know I wasn’t the only one hitting the Discogs marketplace after hearing this set.

Taking a more comprehensive approach are SoulMusic.Com Records and Big Break Records, both of whom have teamed up with UK distributor Cherry Red to reissue a fabulous array of modern soul and funk. To pick just a handful of fruit from this bounty is to ignore a plethora of worthy choices (check the websites for more) but special mention must be given to the long overdue reappearance of the first two Loose Ends albums, each with generous bonus tracks and authoritative liner notes. If you aren’t familiar with “Hangin’ On A String,” the slinkiest, sexiest ode to amorous ambivalence ever, you have some learning to do. (DJs will be pleased to see the elusive Frankie Knuckles Club Mix of “Hangin’” also included.) The URL-monikered label has recently added to its catalog some middle-era Teena Marie (Robbery and Starchild) and Patrice Rushen’s first, self-titled record on Elektra (“Hang It Up,” anyone?), making them definitely one to watch. Also in the realm of essential female-fronted soul is Donna McGhee’s lone LP, Make It Last Forever. Initially issued on Red Greg in 1978 (the album was a Greg Carmichael/Patrick Adams affair), it is a classic that has only grown in stature over the years. One listen to “It Ain’t No Big Thing” or “Make It Last Forever” (both also present in alternate edits on this reissue from Big Break) will show why.

Any mention of disco and soul reissues in the year of 2012 would be remiss if it did not single out the tremendous campaign that Harmless has undertaken with the Philadelphia International catalog. Starting with a decent enough two disc set of re-edits, the label has followed up with a stunning update of the legendary Philadelphia Classics LP, one of disco don Tom Moulton‘s crowning achievements when it was first issued in 1977. In addition to the eight long versions featured on the original album, Harmless has enlisted Moulton to revisit a jaw-dropping 23 further classics from PIR, totaling a four-CD set. Working with the original multitracks, Moulton’s mixes are a revelation, teasing glorious extended performances from beloved standards like “The Love I Lost,” “Nights Over Egypt” and “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine.” If there is one disco-related release you buy this year (and you’ll forgive my lapse into blurb-speak), let it be this one. Essential.

Looking ahead, there are two exceptional reissues on the near horizon. The first comes from Boston-based label Cultures of Soul, who have collected the work of their fellow Bostonian Andre Evans into a classy package that shines a light on this hard to find material. Quirky and danceable, the Evans Pyramid singles have been a hot commodity in collector’s circles for the unique way they meld heartfelt vocal performances with unusual funk arrangements (check out “No I Won’t“).

Private Wax, due out early summer, is a compilation drawn from the vaults of London’s Zaf C. (who had a big hand in the terrific Americana comp of last year). Off-the-radar disco and boogie is the order of the day here, and a top notch selection it is. Ranging from the tough funk of Gregory Jolly’s “What’Em Doing Is My Business” to the smooth steppers groove of Chuck Strong’s cover of Gwen McRae (“Doin’ It“), Private Wax is something to look forward to. Wax Poetics readers who enjoyed our Prince special issue will also be happy to hear that it includes the rare 12-inch version of 94 East’s “If You Feel Like Dancin’.”

Last but not least is Now-Again’s Soul Cal comp of disco and modern soul from 1971 through 1982. The ridiculous mini-book (with plenty of label scans and archival photos) that comes with it explores “America’s best, independent, ’70s soul-ensembles” at a time when they transitioned from funk to disco. For the book alone, this is worth checking out. Burners like Stanton Davis’ Ghetto Mysticism’s “Things Cannot Stop Forever” and Ellis & Cephas’s “I’m Gonna Miss You Girl” make it a must for connoisseurs of the independent disco scene.

Reggae legend Johnny Osbourne plays this Saturday in Harlem—hosted by Clive Chin, with DJ Fidel “Twice” Luna—at Ginny’s Supper Club (at Red Rooster, Chef Marcus Samuelsson’s spot).

Hailing from Dollis Hill, London, Marc Mac is one half of the legendary outfit 4hero and founder of Reinforced Records, a cornerstone of early electronic music in the U.K. In the late ’90s, 4hero signed to Gilles Peterson’s Talkin Loud Records and went on to produce Two Pages and Creating Patterns before branching out on their own. Between producing music for Jill Scott, Roy Ayers, Phonte, and Terry Callier, Marc started another project called Visioneers, releasing a set of 7-inch singles and the full album Dirty Old Hip Hop (BBE Records).

Marc returns with a new Visioneers record, Hipology, which he says is “a collage of some of my personal influences as a DJ/producer growing up listening to hip-hop; it’s a real eclectic mix of breaks, beats, soul, jazz, and freaky squeaks, and not a sampler in sight. Visioneers is about revisiting my love for hip-hop; what it was and what it is, the musical influences and the culture.” Hipology will be released on BBE Records in late spring.

101 Apparel has teamed up to release a T-shirt with a limited-edition cassette.

I can still vividly remember my first rap show. It was the spring winter of 1986 1987, and the Beastie Boys were touring to support their debut album, Licensed to Ill. They weren’t opening for Run-DMC; they were headlining this tour, backed up by punks (Murphy’s Law) and funks (Fishbone). The Jacksonville Coliseum was nowhere near full capacity, and it would be another year before the crew fully blew the fuck up, but the atmosphere was surely electric. Being a lowly eighth grader at the time, full of angst and whatnot, the gratuitously raunchy, and now infamous, show was obviously thrilling for me; this was my own rebel music. When the parents read about the inflatable erection in the paper the next morning, I could hardly help not to pound my chest like an ape at the breakfast table. “Brass Monkey!” I yelled. Parents just didn’t understand.

Looking back at this early stage of their career and development, it’s obvious that their raunch is not what they’ll be remembered for. They were true pioneers in music. As Chuck D pointed out, “They proved that rap could come from any street.” But more than just crossing racial barriers, they brought hip-hop into the national consciousness and dialog. It wasn’t just Eminem who would benefit from their success; it was every rapper and group that came after them. Rap was never again thought of as some passing fad or left-field anomaly. Suddenly, even your mom knew what rap was, for better or worse, but certainly forever.

Adam Yauch (aka MCA)—rapper, father, activist, pioneer—passed away today after a brave battle with cancer. He was forty-seven years young.

When Guru passed away a couple years ago, the hip-hop community—especially the older heads that can remember when these records came out—was shocked and saddened. It wasn’t just the death of a beloved icon, but the symbolic death of an ideal. The golden era and the old school are now truly things of our past. These were musicians who were part of what was essentially a youth movement. We can’t stay young forever; and let’s not try to. Growing up and old is an everyday occurrence. And death, that’s something we see all too often. Publishing this magazine for a decade, we’ve dealt with death. Older jazz cats and soul singers pass before we ever get a chance to talk with them. And too often, these icons pass away right after we talk to them—sometimes right before their article is published. But now, a younger generation is dealing with loss. And with MCA’s passing, we can truly mark an end of an era.

But there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. We’ve recently emerged from a dark decade where hip-hop had lost its voice, its power, its way. Today, there is a lot to be happy about. There is a new generation of hip-hoppers who truly understand and appreciate the roots. They’re finally creating new music for us, and inherent in their art is a respect for the past. Something that had been missing for many years.

So let’s celebrate the life and accomplishments of Adam Yauch, and let’s always remember the pioneers.

Siiiingle laaaadieeees, I can’t hear you.

(this week’s treasures are in my headphones) 

Blond hash (hybrid), add to your choice of smoke, $10/gram!!! says the sign in the window of my hometown dispensary. I’m not a smoker, but I appreciate the news. Through my brother and Black Hippy songs, I stay up on weed prices just so I have something to talk about at parties, along with my old standby topics “Lakers: YES” and “Do you think I am pretty, y/n.” $10 is a pretty good deal for a blond hash hybrid, right? A gram’ll last you a good month or two, right? Aw, I have no idea. In any case, it’s hard to beat ten bucks for anything blond and that is my completely unbiased opinion.

NEW PATIENTS RECEIVE A FREE WAX SNAP!, promises the sign a little farther down, in smaller print. It’s getting really good now. There’s some thirsty sign-writers at this dispensary. Plus “wax snap” sounds like a record-scavenging term, so I approve. And $10 is enough to fix you, regardless of your pleasurable substance, if just for a little while. It’s not like I’m a fiend or anything, but  I strongly believe that getting served doesn’t need to be expensive. When I went to my hometown to visit my mom last weekend, the ten bucks in my pocket could’ve gone to Starbucks (iced Americano plus an extra shot, plus a muffin), or blond hash to add to my smoke like the alluring dispensary offered. But none of these are fixes for me. Like always, then, I took my ten bucks to the local shop, just up the street, for records. Records. Recordsrecords.  Sometimes I swear I must have glaucoma because of floaty things in my eyes, but I’m not a weed addict. I’m not any kind of addict. I’m not at all like Nina Simone with her beloved Valium, or Rick Ross with releasing recorded pieces of garbage constantly into the universe; now those two are addicts. I can quit anytime I want to. Also I was just holding it for a friend, and I need to borrow $20. Until then, here’s my cute little hometown mini-haul: 4 selections for $11! Exhilarating!

I’m good for that $20, by the way. And if you can spare $25 you’d really help me out of a jam.

★

Stanley Clarke, Journey to Love (Nemperor, 1975). $3. 

Stanley was from Philly and had great facial hair, just like Freeway. He was also famous for playing the double bass, which, as someone with a license plate that says “MORE808,” is a phrase that makes my blood pump faster. DOUBLE BASS. This is like saying double small-of-my-back caressing or double piles of $100 bills to me.

“Thanks to L. Ron Hubbard for his never-ending inspiration” it says just above Stan’s big beautiful face on the back, prompting a good, firm What in the fuck? from this little lady. I read it out loud to myself in the store just to make sure it was real. Stanley was clearly drunk when he wrote his thank yous, because everyone knows L. Ron Hubbard maybe supported Apartheid and was probably a bad person. Stanley meant to shoutout Freddie Hubbard, I decided with no confirmation and just pure stubbornness, because that’s how I live my life. But after a minute of straight confusion I just gave in, succumbed to the weird Scientology juju, and shouted out THE GOD Isaac Hayes. Who am I, after all, to judge someone else’s spiritual truth? Get ‘em, Stanley Clarke, with your religious beliefs that creep everybody out. You’re in good company. (Stanley learned Scientology from Chick Corea, like how Prince learned about being a Jehovah’s witness from Larry Graham. Stan and Chick are the jazzy, dad’s-record-collection version of religious-indoctrination music friends.)

Journey to Love is called a classic. How silly. It’s a solid cleaning-the-house record (side B especially), with some perfectly nice guest appearances (Jeff Beck, George Duke). But what sells this thing is “Concerto for Jazz/Rock Orchestra,” the world’s clunkiest title for a song that happens to be the source of some good breaks—like the part at this exact moment, from Endtroducing…, and the killer DOOO-do-do-doodoodoo in that song by the King of Detroit/my heart, Danny Brown (“Guitar Solo”). “Hey, glasses-wearing production wizard Quelle Chris, where’s that ‘Guitar Solo’ loop from?” I almost asked him a hundred times on Twitter after I first got The Hybrid, but stopped because I am shy. I hoped I’d find out the answer at the guitar solo. And wouldn’t you know, that’s exactly what happened.

(Guitar solo by David Sancious.)

“Song for John II” has a pretty 9-note piano section that would make for an excellently emo break. C’mon, producers. And the plinky sounds at the beginning of the title track sound like the “Thuggish Ruggish Bone” break even though, yes, I am aware of the actual sample source. Any mention of Bone Thugs in 2012 means I’m either talking about Rocky’s flow, listening to KDAY’s lunchtime hour, marveling at how much Delonte West looks like Bizzy Bone, or complaining about the current lack of sing-song rap. I’m also doing some rap-related complaining about the continued presence of Khalifa on my car radio, and about stereotypes that seem inherent to rapper profiles in which the profiler marvels at the fact that the rapper being profiled is an intelligent human being who is careful with his money. Grantland, I adore you. But the “You mean to tell me Waka’s not a complete moron?” story angle is not compelling. Waka loves his mom, I assume. He watches Sportscenter, goes to CVS or whatever the Georgia version of CVS is, and probably doesn’t actually have beef with the Vice Lords. This description fits me, and my mailman, and everyone reading this, probably. Adult Swim, emoticons, the mall, McDonald’s: WE ARE ALL WAKA, except for the part about having beautiful hair and being 7 feet tall. His normalcy is not surprising. Plus he has zero felonies, which is good, because MGK looks like he just robbed a liquor store and I do not like it one bit. Listen, I’m not against rap. I’m not against rappers. But I am against those thugs.

ANYWAY. Stanley graduated to soundtracks in the ‘90s, a classic hustle for a family man in the industry who is middle-aged and tired of touring. Stanley also briefly worked on the music for Pee-Wee’s Playhouse (!), a fact which delights the 9-year old girl inside of me. (The show also received musical contributions from Danny Elfman and Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh—a fact that I should’ve known already in preparation for my appearance on Jeopardy!, even though Devo is more Cash Cab than Jeopardy!)

[After Boyz in the Hood and Higher Learning, Stan did the music for Roll Bounce (with Nile Rodgers!). I’m embarrassed to say how many times I’ve seen that film, but this has less to do with my choices in viewing habits or my weakness for Bow Wow’s seductive eyes and 5’2” stature (swoon) as it does with VH-1’s rerun habits. The film has a scene where all the boys are watching Meagan Good put on her skates and “Love to Love You Baby” is playing. It’s seductive as hell, not because I want to make out with Meagan although that would be just fine, but because I want to be Meagan. Listen, guys: we all just want to be gazed upon like in corny “urban youth life lesson” movies, or kicked game to while a song plays, like in the “Every Little Step” video.]

Jeopardy! Fact: a) The Devo and Elfman news as explained above. b) Nemperor Records was started by the Beatles’ manager Brian Epstein, who carried on a love affair with speed and benzos that ended badly. Re-routing your brain chemicals is probably the only way to live when you’re gay and it’s illegal to be gay in your home country, though. The closest I can come to understanding this kind of anguish is when I think about the world we live in and the fact that there are monsters out there who have the nerve to sell their old Zapp and Bunny Wailer records to local stores.

Personal goal: Well, go on a journey to love, obviously. It’s the best kind of journey upon which a lady can possibly embark. 

★

Vanilla Fudge (ATCO, 1967). $5.

This goddamn band had the arrogance/cluelessness to do a droning, nonironic cover of “Shotgun,” so I am kind of mad. And their “Eleanor Rigby” is long and rambl-y, like how I can be with blog posts sometimes. The reason I bought it despite my adorable complaints is the band’s version of “Bang Bang” (no link, so just take my word for it), beauuuutifully looped by the Alchemist, who then had to go fuck it up by getting mushmouth Lloyd Banks to say some rhymed words over it. The song is apparently from a video game called Saints Row, with which I am unfamiliar because I am a lady, but I looked it up and its basic premise is “cartoony gang violence and cornball voiceovers,” so it makes sense that they had Lloyd Banks contribute.

On Vanilla Fudge, they nonironically take on “People Get Ready” and “You Keep Me Hanging On.” I’m not sure what’s supposed to be appealing about slowed-down, droning covers of Mayfield and Motown songs–even in the producing hands of THE GOD Shadow Morton, whose echo chamber I would like to live in forever and ever (oh hello, Organized Noize!), the songs bore. Am I being too hard on Vanilla Fudge? Hm. Probably. It’s my high standards. No apologies. But to keep things in perspective, I’ll point out that The Doors’ “Light My Fire,” Morrison’s droning exercise in how to sound bored while describing sex, was #1 in the country when this record came out. Drone, drone. People like terrible music, what can you do. But then, Aretha’s “Baby I Love You,” a song that is not droning or terrible in the least, was riding high on the charts too. Jerry Wexler never produced droning stuff, you guys, plus he’s one in a long line of musical production gods for whom I would convert to Judaism if asked. Ain’t no doubt about it, baby I love him.

Madlib used “Eleanor Rigby” in a Lootpack’s “Crate Diggin.” “Never Top 40,” he says in the song, “just that raw addict vintage.” I do not subscribe to this philosophy, since driving around in the Prius with the radio on is one of my life’s great pleasures. But arguing with Madlib about music is like arguing with me about hips, meaning: don’t do that. Respect the master. I’ve reached my saturation point with regard to various popular-culture touchstones in 2012; I’m good when it comes to holograms, hearing that goddamn Gotye song again, and seeing Tebow’s stupid face. I’m never ever good, however, in terms of seeing enough Madlib interviews. They never get old. Just found this one, in which he does his impression of an adult human Earthling doing earthly things (haircut, dinner). He slips up at the end when he admits he can restore his body’s power supply on 2 hours of sleep per night, which is of course how they do on his home planet. Otis, I see your outer-space glow under your human skin suit. Nice try, though.

“For best results observe the R.I.A.A. high frequency roll-off characteristic with a 500 cycle crossover.” OBVIOUSLY.

Jeopardy! fact: The note above is pretty common on records from the ‘50s and ‘60s, when different record companies used different EQ compensation curves. Turnover is where the bass boost starts, I just learned; rollover is where the treble cut starts. Midcentury preamps had controls that adjusted accordingly for proper sound. Today, most records use the standard RIAA curve. This newly-acquired piece of knowledge could very likely mean that I have reached my nerd apex. This is big for me! Buy me a drink next time we hang out.

Personal goal: Change the curve standard when it comes to hips, you feel me? (Pretty sure you do.)

★

Shield me from the harsh rays of the sun, Dayton funk gods! And for Zapp/bikini-clad rap-break nerd continuity, somebody please mention Biggie mumbling “somethingsomething, nice breasts in the west” in the comments or I’ll be really disappointed.

Zapp (Warner Bros., 1980). $1. 

There are those dudes, the car-aesthetic nerds of the world, who probably love Daytons (from Dayton, just like Zapp!) more than me. Curren$y for sure, and I wanna say Trick Daddy too-?

Who loves Zapp more than me, though? Nobody! Nobody. Except maybe Dam-Funk and Quik. But nobody else.  I’m still watching Quik’s “What’s in My Bag?” and living, absolutely living for the moment at 01:52 when the interviewer asks him what kind of equipment he listens on and he goes, “Uhhm, my system?” and does the old-man lean, complete with the hand on the hip and the attempt to suppress how excited he is about what he’s about to describe. Love him. Quik’s aging really well, too, right? He’ll always look like he’s 25.

Zapp came out in the summer, when the average temperature in Dayton is 83. That’s perfect for driving around while being bathed in talkboxy bass. In LA we know about it. We know Zapp. It would normally be unnecessary for a Los Angeles County resident to purchase this, since “More Bounce” plays on local radio between 6 and 8 times daily. However, when that resident sees a copy of it for $1 at the local shop, well, she would be a fool not to buy it. Apparently it was produced by a William “Bootsy” Collins (?) whom I will be Googling shortly. I’d like to find out more about him, see if he worked on any other albums. Recorded at United Sound Systems in Detroit, Michigan it says in tiny print, upside down, on the back cover, like I’m not going to notice. That studio is legendary—John Lee Hooker*, Marvin, Aretha. Summon those spirits, Bootsy!

“Make it Zappy. It’s about that mowf.” I wanna say CHUUUCH here but I’m far too schoolteacherish to pull it off. I’ll just stick with Truuuue, true.

“So where’s that mouf at right now?” the back cover wants to know, prompting a spirited Whoa, HEY! You don’t know me like that every time I see it. Every time.

Known for its Ohio players (Kyrie Irvin, Jim Brown), its Ohio players (Faze-O, The Pretenders, Slave, Bone Thugs), and its Ohio Players (from Dayton, just like Zapp!), it’s a red state that holds no allure for me apart from its contributions to my record collection. But the power of Roger Troutman is evident when you consider that last year we voted to make “More Bounce,” a song done by Ohioans, the official song of LA. It narrowly beat out “Welcome to the Jungle” (meh), “It’s Funky Enough” (which it is, obviously), and “Whoop Whoop,” apologies to Ice Cube, but goodness, that beat and Kam’s beautifully bright white tshirts represent the best of Los Angeles so well, it was almost the winner. Roger Troutman also deserves accolades for beating the tremendous odds stacked against him by being born with the name Roger Troutman. The radio version of “More Bounce” cuts out the first few minutes, and really, you’re not missing much. The fact remains that I LOVE a song that bosses me around and calls me “mama” like ‘70s men used to do. Getgetgetgetgetgetonnnnn the dance floooooor, baby/Get dowwwwwn, mama. YES, MASTER, WATCH ME; is this good for you and/or are you enjoying what I am working with. I just wanna please. I let the song slap me around a little bit. I’m even willing to shut up about various ridiculous things (like my theory explaining why Southside gets a whole extra whoop), just because “More Bounce” told me to shut up. Then it grabbed me by the shoulders and was like, You gon learn, Logan. You gon learn. In 2012  we get “mami,” which just isn’t as good.

Jeopardy! fact: The NCAA banned the use of the word “player.” Not only is this insanely dumb and insulting to our intelligence (they’re student athletes, says the NCAA, emphasis on “student”! Pay no mind to the revenue generated from TV and licensing deals!), the ban made it hard when I tried to request “Baby Come Back” from the DJ during Kentucky’s post-victory party back at Kidd-Gilchrist’s place. “Pplayer” (as it says on the back of Zapp) is still fine, luckily, and I love that it sounds just like Slum Village’s “Playyyy-errrrrs.” I’m still not convinced it isn’t the original, or maybe the inspiration. I’m aware of the alleged sample source, but still. I’m stubborn.

Personal goal: Get somebody to use *“The Motor City’s Burning” as a break. How player would that be, man.

★

Bunny Wailer, Blackheart Man (Island, 1976). $2.

I know alllllll about Jamaica because of Sly & Robbie, and my ex-boyfriend Lennox from Belly. It’s a terribly frightening paradise with floaty basslines and crushing poverty, sexy dance moves, ass, super dope soundclashes, class warfare. Lots of easy-to-fetishize qualities; you get the idea. My life in Echo Park can’t compete, but still, who wan ramp wit me? NOBODY, since I got this piece of round black vinyl containing gorgeous music. BUNNY WAILER 2 BUCKS, I sent in a jubilant text to my brother when I found this magical object. Not bragging; just sharing the good news.

The blackheart man in apt. 680 these days is Willard Mitt Romney, although I suppose he’s more DepravedIndifferenceMan, or maybe just ArrogantMan. The title track, with that Tommy McCook flute to open: whyyyy hasn’t someone chopped and looped it?

The song’s about the weirdo in the neighborhood who’s either quiet and misunderstood but ultimately gentle (Boo Radley) or quiet and really fucking paranoid (George Zimmerman). Bunny and Peter have similar voices, with Bunny’s being a little lower, I guess? I like the lower registers of musical gentlemen, nice baritones—Kool AD, Rakim, whatshisname in The National. They all sound stern, like they’re giving me daddy lectures when they catch me sneaking into the house at 2 AM. Love it.

I could do without most of side B. And Bunny’s “Armagideon” is not as lovely as Willie Williams’,  which is slightly disappointing. Still, it’s a treasure. You got your Iyaric lessons, your floaty basslines, songs about glory and trains. Snatch it up if you get the chance, if only so that you can join the club started by this guy in which we all sit around and talk about how disturbingly proud we are to have Blackheart Man on vinyl.

It’s got all the credits you’d expect from an Island record in the ’70s—last names like Barrett, Tosh, Blackwell. There’s Richard “Dirty Harry” Hall on saxophone, who lacks a pop-culture sax-riff moment (RIP Greg Ham!) but nonetheless makes his presence felt by stealing both the show and the DJ booth in Rockers, making hearts beat faster by playing “Queen Majesty,” a 1) Curtis-Mayfield-written 2) plea for romance despite socioeconomic differences that 3) has the loveliest chord progression, which is basically every element that a great song could possibly contain, other than maybe 4) some Rick Rock production? Although greatest moment in Rockers is Kiddus I in the studio, the club takeover is one epic movie scene. SWOON, THOSE CHORDS. “Queen Majesty” interlude, yall.

Go on.  You’re not so busy or heartless that you can’t let the whole thing play.

Jeopardy! fact: In the universe’s latest LOL, it turns out Farrakhan is part Jewish, maybe?   

Personal goal: Find a version of Rockers without subtitles. I understand overstand their inclusion but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Bemoaning the RapGenius-ing of this great country is my new party conversation topic. My opening argument is that it’s turned us all into a bunch of needy, dumb babies. I close with “When Doom gets a verified account, I’ll consider giving it a chance.” Then I turn and sashay off.

It’s a damn shame when quality music falls through the digital cracks in this worldwide web of hype and flavors-of-the-minute. But it’s pretty unusual when that’s coupled with it actually falling through a literal crack, which may have happened to hundreds of copies of this vinyl LP that disappeared from a Brazilian ship earlier this year. That (true) fiasco aside, this solid full-length debut from the anachronistic underground supergroup Ekundayo stubbornly resists classification, another impediment to mass recognition. No relation to the respected Atlanta rapper of the same name (that name being a Yoruba phrase for “the joy that comes from sorrow”), the Brazilian/Brooklyn/Chicagoan conglomerate Ekundayo features their own veteran of the rap subterra in the form of Mike Ladd. He’s joined on the mic by two MCs from the cutting edge Sao Paulo group Mamelo Sound System. But although there are moments when Ladd’s delivery coupled with sledgehammer beats arranged by producer Scotty Hard recall Brooklyn indie rock-rap pioneers New Kingdom, the music cannot be comfortably pegged as “hip-hop.” The percussion, handled by Brazilian giant Naná Vasconcelos (renowned since the ’70s for his collaborations with Don Cherry and Pat Metheny) is far more complex and nuanced than anything in the rap world, pushing the sound towards Brazilian jazz. Add the trumpet of Chicago Underground’s Rob Mazurek and certain cuts begin to sound like outtakes from In a Silent Way—or Bill Laswell’s ambient rework of the ’70s Miles Davis joint. Unfortunately for the hypothetical record store clerk trying to categorize this release, the addition of Black Rock Coalition/Defunkt bassist Melvin Gibbs skews things once again—this time hard in the direction of funk, as on one of the album’s strongest cuts, “Freak Rocker.” Ultimately, the confusion lies in trying to fit this unique and under the radar (over the radar?) release into a pre-existing box. Unapologetically musical and undeniably funky, it will be a shame if it goes unheard by discerning listeners just because it doesn’t play by the rules.

Guys! Here’s me at Coachella! is how this post was supposed to begin. Above, here’s what I wore!  We drove for 4 hours and, per tradition, we hit up the In-N-Out just after checking into Motel 6 because I don’t need fancy accommodations but I do need a big delicious burger – no onions, extra spread! At the show, hearing Snoop’s If you ain’t up on thaaaaangs — the very sound of so many of car rides with LA boys during my bad-girl years* — was worth the entire trip! I saw the still-lanky Kurupt on stage left, and I shouted my appreciation at him from the crowd! He’ll always be the king of kadence! Did I say Coachella? Kuz what I meant was KOACHELLA.

—Alas, Guys! I’m broke! is the reality. Guys, I’m in my apartment now. I’m sad about major-label cartoon characters. GUYS I NEED SOME NEW DOOM. If you would be so kind as to take a look at me now, you’d find that there’s just an empty space. So I’m in apt. 680 in my sad, sexy Coachella clothes, and SIGH there’s no new Doom over which to obsess. And there’s no Fantasy Football yet, so there’s no roster for me to play with. And the evening’s episode of How the States Got Their Shapes is a rerun. So…records, then. Always records. Serotonin reuptake through records. My go-to cheering-up activity is to pull 2 records at random from apt. 680′s thick, wonderful stacks and challenge myself to a degrees-of-separation game. I am known around town for my hips but my most valuable inner quality, the one that drives all the boys crazy, is that I can tie together any 2 records through their common qualities, personnel, historical placement, breaks contained, color schemes, life lessons,  Doom-related ephemera. Me and my wacky brain fulla trivia and rap lyrics! I tell you it’s a wonder I remain single, WaxPo.

*That’s a joke, Mom! I had no bad-girl years. Love you. 

The Time, Ice Cream Castle (Warner Bros., 1984). $4.99. 

Buddy Miles, Them Changes (Mercury, 1970). $0 (Dad’s collection).

Buddy Miles’ Them Changes and The Time’s Ice Cream Castle were my 2 randomly-selected gems for the week. (The selection process was truly random, I promise. I put my hand over my eyes and just started grabbing at what was in front of me, which also describes my technique in bed with a gentleman). The purpose isn’t to compare or rank the albums; that’s more of a guy activity, like the strangely-heated little conversations I always seem to wander into when dudes are debating the merits of rap song X vs. rap song Y. Stop it! “Both teams played hard, my man”! Ice Cream Castle and Them Changes are both life-improving records, and you should have both of them in your collection if you hope to one day personally experience my technique in bed. These 2 records also happen to have exactly twelve areas of commonality, a beautiful example of life’s cosmic tendencies, since this means I get to pull out a terrific rap pun from my arsenal. Watch me don my almost-Coachella outfit and celebrate 2 records with unfairly-overshadowed frontmen (Morris : Prince :: Buddy : Jimi Hendrix), which is mostly a tribute to the ways that the 2 records are connected, which is pretty much a front for Watch me show off the endless snippets of nerdery I have in my head. Sorry, guys. Thanks for tolerating my annoying, adorable ass. But just think of how proud you’ll be when I finally make it to Jeopardy!

★

1. BEING THE AZ TO SOMEONE ELSE’S NAS/THE REN TO SOMEONE ELSE’S ICE CUBE.

On a 1988 episode of Soul Train, Morris Day was on as a “special guest/afterthought,” billed under featured performers Dana Dane who cold rocked it, and later in the hour, Eddie Kendricks (!) and David Ruffin (!!). Morris was on the show to promote his solo record, Daydreaming, but who cared? Nobody cared. The crowd only wanted to see him order Jerome to throw that lady in the dumpster, talk about his home (oh lawwd is it exciting),  then close with “Get It Up” and finish with a shoutout to Madame CJ Walker for being a perm visionary. Morris worked with Prince!, even I, noted Morris fan, would’ve said if I had been in the audience during the taping. Do you think he can introduce me to Prince?? Hey, do you guys like my Prince shirt? Can Prince really not get that hip transplant he needs because of the Jehovah’s Witness blood-transfusion thing? PrincePrincePriiiiiiiince. With that lineup it must’ve been a super rad episode, especially for this particular blogger who is a noted Temps groupie, but a super symbolic episode too. Soul Train #17.23 is just so very typical of Morris’ experience in the industry. He’s a man with the good fortune and smarts to have linked up with musical meteor Prince, and appear on the same TV program with THE GOD David Ruffin and a rapping fake-Englishman with style, but relative to all of his co-stars, he’s always the less-dope. Always. It’s not like Morris Day made me die and ascend to Sexy Heaven on a grassy field in ’08. I mean, neither Mouth nor I have a Morris Day shirt, youfeelme:

Same thing for Buddy. “Buddy Miles: Flamboyant Jimi Hendrix Drummer, Dies” went his typical obituary headline in 2008. “Buddy Miles, 60, of Hendrix group Band of Gypsys, Dies.” Buddy was Jimi’s sideman even in death, though in life he seemed more cheerful about being constantly overshadowed by his musical associate than Morris ever felt about being overshadowed by you-know-who (ahem, cranky quotes from Mr. Day in the most recent issue of WaxPo). “Morris” was at least his real name, though – Buddy wasn’t even a Buddy; he was a George who was nicknamed Buddy in honor of drummer Buddy Rich, a common activity for jazz people (like his dad, a bassist). I can respect the practice of naming-in-musical-tribute, but it still seems it like would do a number on your manhood. Did George feel hollow inside his whole life? Did he feel like he wasn’t good enough? And have I just developed a whole back story about the ego struggles of a man in my record collection whom I’ve never met?

★

2. VOCAL SKILL TO EXPRESS WEATHER-RELATED DESPERATION.

Buddy Miles was from Nebraska but spent much of his music career in Chicago. The Time are Minnesotans. Delicate, thin-skinned California female that I am, catch me NOT being in any of these locations during the winter, thank you. It’s a frigid 58 degrees on this Los Angeles evening; I need to be wrapped in a blanket and held close.

It’s not like Buddy or Morris were terribly skilled, vocals-wise. Neither was fucking with my heart Anthony Hamilton-style. But they both made up for lack of vocal power and range with the charm and good hair required of all frontmen. Morris was cool about it (“bearskin rug/fireplace too”) and Buddy was pleading about it (“You’re my heart’s delight/Oh baby don’t you know you’re outta sight/Oh when I can’t find a reason or way, no no no no no no no no”), but in the case of both men, they used their bag of musical tricks to convince female bodies to keep them warm, because it’s FUCKING FREEZING.

★

3. BREAKS.

This damn category gave me a gang of trouble at first. It’s not impossible to link Buddy and The Time through rap-breaks use; it just seems that way because of The Time’s minimal album output and very minimal history of having their stuff mined for breaks. If DJ Assault also took a Buddy Miles song and laid it over a ’97-warehouse-bursting-with-love lady vocal, my work here would be done, the link would be established and I could just pack it in, submit the blog post and lay my body down on my comfy couch, Blue Dream & Lean on the iPod (still! Like 2 months later! GO J.). Alas, there’s no ghettotech Buddy Miles remix, which is why WaxPo enlisted me to find the hidden commonalities. Linking the two albums takes the nerdiest of brain circuitries and a lot of free time, both of which I have, lucky for WaxPo:

The cleanest way to connect the two is to start with Buddy’s cover of Neil Young’s “Down By the River.” It’s been chopped and looped extensively by producers, but of course the one for whom I have the most affection is Diamond D, who once said I got a thousand old records in my crib, thereby securing his place in my heart for all time since I got that many of that exact same thing! But I also have a thousand new mp3s in my crib, courtesy of Kevin, my generous 17-year-old cousin with great taste in music; I rely on him to keep my DatPiff game strong, since I do not have time to go through heaps of new daily rap offerings, daily rap news. I didn’t even know Snoop was officially dabbling in Rastafarianism until last week. Shit is, as they say, exhausting. (Thanks for the help, Kev!)

This’ll be our year of coming to grips with the “old enough to have baby-sat current rappers when they were kids” reality, guys. I could be the great-grandma of Chief Keef, whom I believe is just now starting on solid foods. RZA is doing things like this now. There is an actual recorded piece of music by the corny-human trifecta of Chris Brown, Big Sean, and, fucking hell, Wiz Khalifa, aptly called “Til I Die,” since the title describes the length of time that I would’ve been satisfied going without hearing a song with those 3 on it. (Be sure to catch Tebow, Sean Hannity, and people who use the term “YOLO” on the More People Logan Can’t Fucking Stand remix.) I’m lucky that my college-years hero El-P is still around, aging gracefully, ruling, making rap songs that sound like rap songs with his friends, Larry David Davis references and all. Banner’s still large and in charge, shouting out Louis C.K. “for the inspiration” and making me smile. There’s all kinds of new drug raps too, new feelings to behold, like Lil B with all those Flame tapes, a different flavor for every mood, and hey!, would you look at that, even Warhol loved Addy. Aesop Rock’s on Rhymesayers now, so that’s fun. Nickatina will never stop, not ever. Denmark Vessey had last week’s Logan-Walking-Down-the-Street-in-a-Sundress jam. And actually it’s kind of cool that these days second-generation sample sources continue to dominate – most of Curren$y’s discography immediately comes to mind (I believe it was either Monsta or Dame who used that Outkast that sampled the Five Stairsteps-?). Inspirational sample sources should be included in this group too – songs like Smif n Wessun’s “Gunn Rap” from ’05, on which Khrysis looped the pretty clavinet from “Down by the River” and probably got the idea to do so by listening to that Akinyele album over and over (produced by Main Source). This is pure speculation on my part about Khrysis’ inspiration sources, but c’mon son. I’m not an idiot.

(Khrysis now produces Mac Miller, which means he has the hilarious, disjointed words “Producer of Sean P, Cormega, and Mac Miller” on his ASCAP credits. Rap game hilarious.)

Andre Lewis played that clavinet on “Down by the River,” and on Johnny “Guitar” Watson’s “Lovin’ You,” used by Just Blaze on Jay-Z’s “People Talkin” during Blueprint-era Jay – AKA Kanye-era Jay, according to Kanye, who went on to sample a bunch of Prince songs. But a funner way to link back to The Time is to reference that Kanye song about lesbians and French robots in which he mentions the length of time that he has been fond of a lady (since Prince was on Apollonia – 2 persons who starred in a movie with Morris Day). I’d like to take a moment to ask if anyone out there can link Buddy Miles to The Time via Kool Keith’s “Like Prince, all the panties hit the floor in one room in Paisley.” If it’s you, I think we’re supposed to get married. Email me for directions to my apartment. I have a comfy blue couch and this is already on the hi-fi:

★

4. VENKMAN, SPENGLER, STANTZ, ZEDDEMORE.

Ray Parker Jr., famous for the Ghostbusters theme (and, in my apartment, famous for producing “Mr. Telephone Man”), played on All the Faces of Buddy Miles which came out four years after Them Changes. Parker was a Barry White associate; he played on “I’m Gonna Love You Just a Little More, Babe.” The Cecil Holmes Soulful Sounds’ version was sampled on Mos Def’s “Grown Man Business,” the producer of which was who?  

Minnesota, silly!

Dueling online dictionary sources tell me Minnesota means either “sky-tinted water” or “cloudy water” in the Dakota language; either way, it’s lovely and evocative. Minnesota is the home state of a band called The Time, a corporation called Target, and a lake called Minnetonka, which of course means “Don’t get my seat all wet, topless lady” in the Chippewa language.

[Nerd tip!: Fun with translations can continue endlessly via the “also known as” feature on imdb. In Portugal, Purple Rain was released as the ridiculously appropriate Viva a Música. In the Netherlands, Ghostbusters was called Het Bovennatuurlijke Superspektakel - “Supernaturalism Super Show”! SO FRESH. If you were in Denmark in 1984, you no doubt went to see the hit film Frækkere end Politiet Tillader, about a police officer in Beverly Hills who's a huge Detroit Lions fan: “Kinky Cop.” Love it. And please, just one more - Dead Presidents has nothing to do with this post, but I had to include it because of its Brazilian title: Ambição em Alta Voltagem, AKA “Ambition High Voltage,” which also just happens to be my future mixtape title. (It's a concept tape about how I plot to meet Rick Ross just so I can electrocute his vocal cords, thereby saving the rap game, hashtag YOUREWELCOME.)]

★

5. CHERCHEZ LA WHITE GIRL. 

They were in Grand Central and Band of Gypsys, with Prince and Jimi, respectively: Morris and Buddy were the bandmates of frontmen who really really liked white ladies who fall somewhere on the prettiness scale between “eh” and “gorgeous.”

I’m too prim and ladylike to post this but a link is OK. 

An image search for hendrix + girlfriend makes Jimi’s fondness pretty clear. Same for Prince, who usually likes ‘em musically inclined and brunette, much to my dismay since I am neither. A blonde does appear in the Prince mix every so often, however – there’s a funny part in Alan Leeds’ piece in the most recent issue of excellent magazine Wax Poetics in which he describes being on the road with with the band in ’83 during the 1999 tour. Prince was still with Vanity at the time, or maybe not (it’s Prince, so who knows if he believes in monogamy or if the role of Main Chick is simply given to the woman he can trust the most to look after his guitars while on tour).

“Jill Jones was also around him a lot (at the time),” Leeds says, innocently, “and I wasn’t really sure what that meant.” (I’ve sent Alan an email with a description of exactly what I think that meant). Morris’ personal feelings about white women are unclear, since his feelings about all women are unclear; it appears that women provide no actual romantic fulfillment for Morris’s soul and simply serve as tokens with hips,  currency in his game of Big Bank Take Little Bank against his rival, Prince. Ladies are the alive, pretty version of little plastic pieces with which he hopes to sink Prince’s battleship. Viola player Novi Novog (the Miri Ben-Ari of her day) makes an appearance on Ice Cream Castle, though, so let’s just assume Morris found us irresistible. My completely unbiased opinion is that we’re irresistible. All white girls are sweet, patient, and we don’t ask too many questions. We’re great at cooking steak. Plus we smell fresh always, like Snuggle. Irresistible! In ’84 we got bit parts in movies if we were cute and had connections to musical men; in ’12 you can catch us getting engaged to Dwayne Carter, ruining NBA marriages, flipping off the camera and making kissy faces on Tumblr like idiots, trying to get you to switch to T-Mobile, writing the NWA biopic, and acting inappropriate while in our underwear, Blue Dream & Lean on the iPod. Shoutout, by the way, to consistently-lovable Uncle Juice for shouting out white hoes on “Been Gettin Money.” It’s a compliment, guys. I just can’t explain why.

★

6. THE GREEK/ROMAN PANTHEON + THE GOD JEREMY SCOTT.

’83: In keeping with his theme of naming his protégées like Bond girls who do porn in their spare time, but really classy porn where the female leads are worldly and speak 3 languages, Prince gives new harem member Patty Kotero the name “Apollonia.” This is in reference to Apollo, Greek god of music and Harlem, leading me to (incorrectly) believe all these years that Ms. Kotero is part Greek. Apollo was entertained by a scamp named Hermes who could make bewitching sounds with his lyre, just like Prince. Hermes wore winged sandals because he was the primary messenger between the gods and humans.

’11: “Whine, whine,” goes the chorus of cranky people upset by the prolonged hunger for Jeremy Scott designs among the 17-year-old cousins of the world. “His stuff is so garish! Whinewhine, bitch moan whine, back in my day, whine.” I know from personal anecdotes and rap lyrics that A$AP Rocky, Danny Brown*, Das Racist are fans, as are all the dudes in line outside of A$AP mob, Danny Brown, and Das Racist shows. Jeremy enjoys the artistic freedom (plus that Adidas money) to make Garanimals for the modern gentleman’s foot — Mickey Mouse and plush panda heads on shoes, unicorn horns, goretex, blood diamonds, candy paint. People love em, people hate em. Rap game’s a parade and you have to have confidence in your costume. The point is that whether it’s J Scott, Jesus pieces, Margiela, or Snoop showing up on SNL in that XXXL Hilfiger jersey in ’94, everybody says you’re trying too hard or not trying hard enough. Anyway, I know from my cousin’s Instagram stunting that Jeremy’s winged shoes were all the rage last year. The design was perhaps an homage to Hermes the Greek god—who, in Roman mythology, is known as Mercury, which is also the name of the record label that put out Them Changes! COSMIC! Pretty-rapper favorites Rick Owens and Raf Simons were also contenders in this category, but it turned out they have no connection to Ice Cream Castle or Them Changes, or to Greek mythology. So Jeremy Scott, you pointy-eared weirdo: you win. And I’m not sure how to factor it in here, but it’s also important to keep in mind that when it comes to the pantheon of Greek gods, Keak’s the black Zeus.

* “Bitches skinny dippin in the lake: purple rain” — “Horny Zebra,” Danny Brown. This makes perfect sense, since “horny zebra” is what Morris asked for at the tailor when he went in for his Purple Rain wardrobe fitting. It ended up on the lapels of his shiny gold jacket during the “Jungle Love” performance scene. One day I’ll do a post entirely about Purple Rain fashion, including Morris’ sexy suits and the unparalleled radness of Billy’s Tigers hat, MY LORD.

We love a good conspiracy theory. But even the ones that ring true can’t always be trusted. But then again, our entire global history is rife with real conspiracies, not just theories.

Wax Poetics, along with many other good people in the music and publishing industry, received this email today from an anonymous source claiming to be a former insider. We have chosen to post this for our audience to read, but we neither support nor argue against the claims of Mr. “John Smith.”

Hello,

After more than 20 years, I’ve finally decided to tell the world what I witnessed in 1991, which I believe was one of the biggest turning point in popular music, and ultimately American society. I have struggled for a long time weighing the pros and cons of making this story public as I was reluctant to implicate the individuals who were present that day. So I’ve simply decided to leave out names and all the details that may risk my personal well being and that of those who were, like me, dragged into something they weren’t ready for.

Between the late 80′s and early 90’s, I was what you may call a “decision maker” with one of the more established company in the music industry. I came from Europe in the early 80’s and quickly established myself in the business. The industry was different back then. Since technology and media weren’t accessible to people like they are today, the industry had more control over the public and had the means to influence them anyway it wanted. This may explain why in early 1991, I was invited to attend a closed door meeting with a small group of music business insiders to discuss rap music’s new direction. Little did I know that we would be asked to participate in one of the most unethical and destructive business practice I’ve ever seen.

The meeting was held at a private residence on the outskirts of Los Angeles. I remember about 25 to 30 people being there, most of them familiar faces. Speaking to those I knew, we joked about the theme of the meeting as many of us did not care for rap music and failed to see the purpose of being invited to a private gathering to discuss its future. Among the attendees was a small group of unfamiliar faces who stayed to themselves and made no attempt to socialize beyond their circle. Based on their behavior and formal appearances, they didn’t seem to be in our industry. Our casual chatter was interrupted when we were asked to sign a confidentiality agreement preventing us from publicly discussing the information presented during the meeting. Needless to say, this intrigued and in some cases disturbed many of us. The agreement was only a page long but very clear on the matter and consequences which stated that violating the terms would result in job termination. We asked several people what this meeting was about and the reason for such secrecy but couldn’t find anyone who had answers for us. A few people refused to sign and walked out. No one stopped them. I was tempted to follow but curiosity got the best of me. A man who was part of the “unfamiliar” group collected the agreements from us.

Quickly after the meeting began, one of my industry colleagues (who shall remain nameless like everyone else) thanked us for attending. He then gave the floor to a man who only introduced himself by first name and gave no further details about his personal background. I think he was the owner of the residence but it was never confirmed. He briefly praised all of us for the success we had achieved in our industry and congratulated us for being selected as part of this small group of “decision makers”. At this point I begin to feel slightly uncomfortable at the strangeness of this gathering. The subject quickly changed as the speaker went on to tell us that the respective companies we represented had invested in a very profitable industry which could become even more rewarding with our active involvement. He explained that the companies we work for had invested millions into the building of privately owned prisons and that our positions of influence in the music industry would actually impact the profitability of these investments. I remember many of us in the group immediately looking at each other in confusion. At the time, I didn’t know what a private prison was but I wasn’t the only one. Sure enough, someone asked what these prisons were and what any of this had to do with us. We were told that these prisons were built by privately owned companies who received funding from the government based on the number of inmates. The more inmates, the more money the government would pay these prisons. It was also made clear to us that since these prisons are privately owned, as they become publicly traded, we’d be able to buy shares. Most of us were taken back by this. Again, a couple of people asked what this had to do with us. At this point, my industry colleague who had first opened the meeting took the floor again and answered our questions. He told us that since our employers had become silent investors in this prison business, it was now in their interest to make sure that these prisons remained filled. Our job would be to help make this happen by marketing music which promotes criminal behavior, rap being the music of choice. He assured us that this would be a great situation for us because rap music was becoming an increasingly profitable market for our companies, and as employee, we’d also be able to buy personal stocks in these prisons. Immediately, silence came over the room. You could have heard a pin drop. I remember looking around to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and saw half of the people with dropped jaws. My daze was interrupted when someone shouted, “Is this a f****** joke?” At this point things became chaotic. Two of the men who were part of the “unfamiliar” group grabbed the man who shouted out and attempted to remove him from the house. A few of us, myself included, tried to intervene. One of them pulled out a gun and we all backed off. They separated us from the crowd and all four of us were escorted outside. My industry colleague who had opened the meeting earlier hurried out to meet us and reminded us that we had signed agreement and would suffer the consequences of speaking about this publicly or even with those who attended the meeting. I asked him why he was involved with something this corrupt and he replied that it was bigger than the music business and nothing we’d want to challenge without risking consequences. We all protested and as he walked back into the house I remember word for word the last thing he said, “It’s out of my hands now. Remember you signed an agreement.” He then closed the door behind him. The men rushed us to our cars and actually watched until we drove off.

A million things were going through my mind as I drove away and I eventually decided to pull over and park on a side street in order to collect my thoughts. I replayed everything in my mind repeatedly and it all seemed very surreal to me. I was angry with myself for not having taken a more active role in questioning what had been presented to us. I’d like to believe the shock of it all is what suspended my better nature. After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to calm myself enough to make it home. I didn’t talk or call anyone that night. The next day back at the office, I was visibly out of it but blamed it on being under the weather. No one else in my department had been invited to the meeting and I felt a sense of guilt for not being able to share what I had witnessed. I thought about contacting the 3 others who wear kicked out of the house but I didn’t remember their names and thought that tracking them down would probably bring unwanted attention. I considered speaking out publicly at the risk of losing my job but I realized I’d probably be jeopardizing more than my job and I wasn’t willing to risk anything happening to my family. I thought about those men with guns and wondered who they were? I had been told that this was bigger than the music business and all I could do was let my imagination run free. There were no answers and no one to talk to. I tried to do a little bit of research on private prisons but didn’t uncover anything about the music business’ involvement. However, the information I did find confirmed how dangerous this prison business really was. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Eventually, it was as if the meeting had never taken place. It all seemed surreal. I became more reclusive and stopped going to any industry events unless professionally obligated to do so. On two occasions, I found myself attending the same function as my former colleague. Both times, our eyes met but nothing more was exchanged.

As the months passed, rap music had definitely changed direction. I was never a fan of it but even I could tell the difference. Rap acts that talked about politics or harmless fun were quickly fading away as gangster rap started dominating the airwaves. Only a few months had passed since the meeting but I suspect that the ideas presented that day had been successfully implemented. It was as if the order has been given to all major label executives. The music was climbing the charts and most companies when more than happy to capitalize on it. Each one was churning out their very own gangster rap acts on an assembly line. Everyone bought into it, consumers included. Violence and drug use became a central theme in most rap music. I spoke to a few of my peers in the industry to get their opinions on the new trend but was told repeatedly that it was all about supply and demand. Sadly many of them even expressed that the music reinforced their prejudice of minorities.

I officially quit the music business in 1993 but my heart had already left months before. I broke ties with the majority of my peers and removed myself from this thing I had once loved. I took some time off, returned to Europe for a few years, settled out of state, and lived a “quiet” life away from the world of entertainment. As the years passed, I managed to keep my secret, fearful of sharing it with the wrong person but also a little ashamed of not having had the balls to blow the whistle. But as rap got worse, my guilt grew. Fortunately, in the late 90’s, having the internet as a resource which wasn’t at my disposal in the early days made it easier for me to investigate what is now labeled the prison industrial complex. Now that I have a greater understanding of how private prisons operate, things make much more sense than they ever have. I see how the criminalization of rap music played a big part in promoting racial stereotypes and misguided so many impressionable young minds into adopting these glorified criminal behaviors which often lead to incarceration. Twenty years of guilt is a heavy load to carry but the least I can do now is to share my story, hoping that fans of rap music realize how they’ve been used for the past 2 decades. Although I plan on remaining anonymous for obvious reasons, my goal now is to get this information out to as many people as possible. Please help me spread the word. Hopefully, others who attended the meeting back in 1991 will be inspired by this and tell their own stories. Most importantly, if only one life has been touched by my story, I pray it makes the weight of my guilt a little more tolerable.

Thank you.

Kendra Morris “If You Didn’t Go”

Video written, directed, and edited by Jacob Arden McClure.

Purchase the digital single on iTunes and the 7-inch vinyl at the Wax Poetics Storefront.

Full-length Banshee on Wax Poetics Records summer 2012.

© 2012 Wax Poetics Records
waxpoetics.com

Purchase the 45 rpm 7-inch at the Wax Poetics Storefront and the digitals at iTunes.

Release date: 

April 24, 2012

A few boxes of product fell off the back of a truck. We got too many, so our loss is your gain.

These pieces are priced to burn burn burn!

$3 LPs and back issues. Anthology 2 for only $15!

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Photo by Alysse Gafkjen.

In 1963, Tom Hoskins headed South to check out Mardi Gras and try to locate a musical hero, Mississippi John Hurt, more than forty years after he’d last been heard from. He convinced an underage female acquaintance to supply the wheels, and using a clue found in one of Hurt’s songs, they located the seventy-year-old bluesman. As a result of Hoskins’s mission, Mississippi John Hurt recorded his songs for the Library of Congress as well as three albums of classic country-blues for the Vanguard record label. When Dan Auerbach (guitarist, vocalist, and producer for the Black Keys) got it in his head to locate the then seventy-year-old New Orleans icon and pianist Dr. John, all he had to do was call the good doctor’s manager. Younger musicians and music fanatics have been resurrecting long forgotten or underappreciated musicians from pop culture’s back pages since the folk and blues revival of the early 1960s, with each successive generation laying claim to different eras and styles. Dan Auerbach, Jack White, and the lesser-known soul and funk disciples from Brooklyn to Berlin are the backward-looking folkies of our generation, using their fame and industry access to remind some of us, and introduce the rest of us, to legends like Loretta Lynn, Sharon Jones, Charles Bradley, Lee Fields, Ike Turner (who the Black Keys were set to collaborate with for Attack & Release before he passed away), and Dr. John.

Locked Down, set for release on April 3 on Nonesuch Records, started as Dan’s idea. “I was just shootin’ the shit with a friend of mine, and we were talking about Dr. John and how great those early records are,” Dan recalls. A call to the manager of Mac Rebenack (Dr. John’s given name) resulted in the two meeting for a couple days in New Orleans to feel out the collaboration. What Dan didn’t know at the time was that one of Mac’s granddaughters had recently left him with one of the Black Keys’ albums thinking he would like it, which he did.

“All of a sudden, [Auerbach] spiritually pops up here and wants to meet me,” Mac says. “I jumped on a plane,” Dan says. “I had never met him before. I flew down to New Orleans and went over to his place and spent a couple days just hanging out, listening to music, talking about music, talking about politics, conspiracy theories, family, you know, life on the road, that kind of stuff.” The collaboration unfolded organically from there according to Dan and Mac. “We got together and next thing I know, we wrote some songs here at the pad, and all of a sudden we was just recording. I like the way that all happened like that. Spiritually, I know this,” Mac muses, “you gotta roll with it and accept whatever it is.”

Mac’s been doing more than rolling with it in recent years. The recent assaults (both manmade and natural) on his hometown of New Orleans supplied Mac with plenty of subject matter and emotional motivation, fueling his most recent triumphs. Last year, Dr. John was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, in 2008 he won a Grammy for Best Contemporary Blues Album for The City That Care Forgot, and his recurring role in the critically acclaimed HBO series, Treme, adds to his recent achievements. As one of the few musicians who span the Professor Longhair and Harry Connick Jr. eras, Mac’s emerged lately as an outspoken defender of New Orleans’ cultural legacy. “It’s never gonna be the same as it was, but New Orleans is still a special, spiritual place,” Mac told Randy Lewis of the Los Angeles Times. “People need to know about this place, it’s important.”

When asked if recording with Dan and his guys was a different experience than his latest projects, Mac says, “Well, yeah, it’s more like stuff I did in the ’50s and stuff, or ’60s actually. A lot of this music is connected in some kind of way to stuff from my Gris-Gris and Babylon records.” It was the sound and feel of these late 1960s records that Dan tried to capture with this new record. “I wanted him to get more into that kinda beat poetry,” Dan says, alluding to Dr. John’s first four albums released on ATCO between 1968 and 1971 and credited to “Dr. John, the Night Tripper.” These albums mixed Afro-Caribbean rhythms with New Orleans R&B piano, a dementedly funky rhythm section, wraith-like backup singers, and layered with morally and spiritually ambiguous lyrics alternately sung and spoken in Mac’s Nawlins hipster patois.

“I didn’t want to make a retro album,” Dan explains. “We didn’t record it in a retro way. We recorded it live on the floor, but there’s lots of low end.” Beyond the technical aspects, Dan worked on Mac subliminally with musical influences playing in the background over lunch or between sessions. “I wanted him to get into some new stuff, musically. I wanted to keep him away from the clichéd fonk, you know?” During their initial courtship in New Orleans, Dan tried out some different sounds on Mac. “We listened to a lot of music that I thought he would dig, like Mulatu, some of that older Ethiopian stuff where there’s lots of Farfisas, and he just dug that stuff so much.” They also listened to “hip-hop instrumentals, some psych, some old soul 45s, you know, some obscure stuff I thought he might dig.” Building on these diverse musical touchstones and inspired by Mac’s earliest solo records, Dan called on a dream team of musicians to execute this appropriately opaque gumbo of styles and influences. “I tried to make it current, a new record, but I wanted to get musicians who understood old records and appreciated them and had old souls.”

With the exception of the fraternal gospel group the McCrary Sisters, the rest of the players on Locked Down are, like Dan, younger guns reared on hip-hop and more influenced by dusty sounds found on old records than their musical contemporaries. Dan had already worked with bassist Nick Movshon and keyboard player Leon Michels, both fixtures on the Brooklyn soul scene and members of the El Michels Affair on Truth & Soul Records. “I initially got in touch with Leon and Nick about touring with the Black Keys because I loved the records they made,” Dan says. “That Lee Fields My World record is an amazing album.” Next, he called on Max Weissenfeldt, a Berlin-based drummer who’s the inspiration for most up-and-coming old-school-styled funk drummers as one of the founders of the first-wave retro-funk group, the Poets of Rhythm/Whitfield Brothers. Dan: “Max is one of my favorite drummers ever. And I knew that getting Nick and Max together in a room would just be insane, and it was. It was so much fun watching those two guys play together.” Ohio native Brian Olive might seem to be the odd man out, except for his garage-rock pedigree shadows Dan’s, and his skills as a rhythm guitar player, backup singer, and horn/woodwind player added to the group’s versatility. “I wanted everybody to be able to do multiple things, because that was the nature of the session,” Dan says. “We had nine days in studio, and we gotta make the most of it, so I’m gonna take these guys who are great at a certain instrument, but can also jump on a lot of other things too to fill out the sound.”

Dan lucked out when the promoters of a serendipitously named music festival caught wind of his plans. “The people at Bonnaroo heard that I was getting ready to make a record with Mac,” Dan recounts, “and they suggested that they call it a Super Jam—they do one every year. And it actually turned out to be an amazing way for me to get all of these musicians together, because Max lives in Berlin, and all of these musicians I wanted for the record live really far away, so it was an amazing opportunity to get my dream set of players in the same city to see if it would work before I got everybody together to make a record.” New York Times music critic, Ben Ratliff, called their performance “almost evil: deep and oozy, close-to-the-vest, low-frequency funk.”

Author Pat Thomas discusses his book Listen, Whitey!: The Sounds of the Black Power Movement 1965–1975 and the companion sixteen-song soundtrack (purchase the LP at our storefront).

Producer and MC Quelle Chris talks about his release Shotgun & Sleek Rifle.

Quinton Scott returns to the podcast to discuss the Mighty Sparrow collection Sparrowmania! on Strut Records.

Beats by Apollo Brown from the track “Prove Me Wrong” from the upcoming Apollo Brown & OC release Trophies, courtesy of Mello Music Group.

Track List

1. Pat Thomas interview
2. “Until We’re Free” Elaine Brown
3. Pat Thomas interview
4. “Free Bobby Now” The Lumpen
5. Quelle Chris interview
6. “The Crook (The Enemy)” Quelle Chris
7. Quelle Chris interview
8. “The Loop” Quelle Chris featuring Maya Songbird
9. “Zinah” Mighty Sparrow
10. Quinton Scott interview
11. “Kennedy and Khrushchev” Mighty Sparrow
12. Quinton Scott interview
13. “Sweet Loving” Mighty Sparrow

PICTURE ME HOARDIN.

BEAT SWAP MEET #17, 03/11/12 - My grasp of what constitutes “style” is limited, but I know that ladies should always accentuate the indent where the waist meets the hips and that the cotton sundress is timeless. I know that unless you are dating Fabolous, your boyfriend doesn’t care what brand your skirt is. I love those Jordan IV Cements on a gentleman, and I wish more of you dressed like Peter Tosh in the ’70s. Jeans that are a little too tight look the best on me (sorry, Mom). Men’s size M Champion v-necks, the comfiest sleeping attire, are $20 for 5 (Hanes’ labor practices are inhumane and the company should not be supported with your money. Also ask me about, if you have 10 minutes to kill: La Perla’s superiority over Victoria’s Secret). I have foolishly bought several handbags that are so expensive they came with authenticity cards. I was listening to a lot of Clipse at the time.

5. Frank Zappa, apostrophe (’) (Discreet, 1974). $1.

6. Mantronix, In Full Effect (Capitol, 1988). $2!

Best Logo in This Particular Record Haul, no question. Best Band Name. Best Bass. “Do You Like…Mantronik?” is the album’s best song, and for the record I LOVE Mantronik, thank you bass-ed god, but the album’s Best Song Title is “In Full Effect (In Full Effect),” which, in case you forgot, is on that Mantronix album called In Full Effect. And isn’t it super fresh that dudes are once again are dressing like this, in 2012? Yes, it’s fresh (it’s fresh). It’s fresh.

Expensive records are like a cruel taunt from the universe. I’m out here tryin to function, which in Bay slang means “Pay my rent and add to my record collection without compromising my ability to pay my rent.” Box sets of Doom 45s are wicked temptation, as is anything with the words “limited edition colored vinyl” on the cover. Torture. At Amoeba, Lovers Rock is $30, but my strong sense of justice/broke-ness has prevented me from laying down the cash. Turns out I was smart to wait this one out, because I found a pristine virgin beautiful shining brand-new copy for much MUCH less than $30 at the swap meet. There was bargaining involved – I wrote a number on a piece of paper and slid it across the folding-table to the eccentric booth proprietor wearing a dirty old Kentucky Wildcats t-shirt. The final price is a secret; 17 records for $47 total, though, remember? Let’s just say that the Person With Breasts discount is a beautiful thing. Everybody was jealous of this find when I walked around with it, but I didn’t gloat because that’s unladylike. Gloating on the Internet, however? Super ladylike.

“Teeheeheeeeee! OH RICK, you’re so charming and funny! Sure, I’d love to try it! GOD, I feel fantastic! I don’t see how this night could possibly go wrong!”

Illustrations by Joshua Dunn.

Questlove is a drummer, a tweeter, a political provocateur, a music encyclopedia, a founding member of hip-hop royalty the Roots, the bandleader of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and a Prince fanatic. Take a journey through his mind as he argues thirty-three reasons why Prince is “hip-hop.”

October 1991 marked the year of a new Prince. I could tell that something was on his mind (perhaps money?). It was his thirteenth professional year, and something had to give. Clearly he was irked by longtime fans already giving his 1978–’88 tenure a past-tense reference (known as “the genius period,” similar to pre–Woman in Red Stevie’s 1971–’76 era, but Prince fared a lil better). Although a commercial success, his 1989 Batman soundtrack felt unthawed. (And let’s face it: anything with that Batlogo was getting copped back in the late ’80s, so it was a no-brainer. You could turn in just about anything and it would sell as long as that golden logo was attached to your product.) His next album was a heartbreaking failure of a sequel to the very breakthrough that probably is responsible for this tribute issue you now hold in your hands. Graffiti Bridge, released in 1990, did the exact opposite of what Purple Rain was to do for his career (and it’s noted that all of the soundtrack highlights were indeed written or recorded…during the—ahem—“genius period.”) However, on Prince and the New Power Generation’s Diamonds and Pearls, his first “proper” album since 1988’s puzzling Lovesexy and his first project not to reach the top ten since 1981’s Controversy, Prince seemed to embrace “rap” (not hip-hop, but “rap”) almost with the believability of Republican politicians that visit the inner-city slums to kiss babies and shake hands. The puzzling thing about it all is that Prince was more “hip-hop” than he ever was once he gave in to “rap” music.

Dare I say he was a hip-hop pioneer? Yes. That Prince. Without even trying, he did things that those in the hip-hop generation wouldn’t even think to do some years later in their careers. So in celebration of Prince reaching Jesus status (thirty-three years in the game), I’d like to argue thirty-three reasons why sucker MCs should call him sire.

33. “2 Live, 2 Live is what we are.”

In 1988, Prince poses stark naked on his tenth album cover, Lovesexy.

32 & 31. “So either join the crew or get beat down.”

With Hammer as America’s newly discovered go-to guy, Prince reverses his Sir Nose D’VoidoRAP position of the past (more on that later) and full-on puts his career survival ahead of his personal creativity. Backtracking a hard stance, of course, would be the norm come 1997 with the all-integrity no-sell-out hip-hop. Of course, with the formation of the NPG and its kickoff album, 1991’s Diamonds and Pearls, with samples and rap breaks over a band soundtrack (I’ll just sneak in #31 here) and the occasional “nigga” sprinkled for effect (let’s not forget the mic gun either), Prince was actually onto something that was years ahead of my own entry in the game.

30. “I got it from my pops, where there’s a man in the house and all the bullshit stops.”

Genius starts with the act of defiance, achieving something when you are told that you can’t achieve. Prince’s father told him flat out, “Don’t touch my piano.” So, naturally, Prince takes that to mean, “Please help yourself, then help me some twenty years later by taking care of me with the fruits of your labor.” I don’t know if the Joseph/Tito thing went down, but I do know that he taught himself to play the theme to Batman (See? The man is a visionary!) and soon he got more intricate—that is, until he got kicked out the house and shuffled around to various relatives until running away at the age of twelve.

29. “Check it, fifteen of us in a three-bedroom apartment.

Roaches everywhere, cousins and aunts was there.

Four in a bed, two at the foot, two at the head.”

The Anderson family basement. P’s BFF André Anderson (aka Cymone) asks his mom, Bernadette, to take in “Skipper” as her seventh child. She does so, and also puts up with all the noise, knowing it’s better to be inconvenienced than those two to be running out in the streets.

28. “Shakespeare couldn’t tell a story that well.”

Prince’s bio stretched the truth quite a bit. Shaved his age a little bit to grab teen market. Embellished his ability. (Don’t get me wrong, he can play anything he wants to, but if you list over twenty instruments, and fifteen of those instruments are keyboard related, then, yeah, it’s impressive to someone who don’t know any better; but in my head, you play three instruments: drums, bass, and guitar. Okay, I’ll be fair and say four—and keyboards. Not: (1) Organ—no organ on his first seven records! (2) Rhodes (3) Clavinet (4) Synth. (5) Piano… Come on, now.) Now, the previously mentioned coulda been record-label politics. But in early interviews (especially with Right On! teen mag), Prince too was having some fun making up his bio on the spot to get some hood cred. My favorite being how he was so poor, he’d steal Bubble Yum and stand in front of a McDonald’s just to pretend he was eating a meal.

Promotional mix by FA celebrating the 10th Anniversary of Wax Poetics!

Track List

Prince and the Revolution “Erotic City (Make Love Not War Erotic City Come Alive)” (Warner Bros.)
The Time “777-9311 (propsEdit)”
Blood Orange “Champagne Coast (Krystal Klear Remix)” (Domino)
Jesse Johnson “Be Your Man (Specially Remixed Version)” (A&M)
Andre Cymone “Kelly’s Eyes” (CBS)
Larry Graham “There’s Something About You” (Warner Bros.)
94 East “If You Feel Like Dancin’” (Hot Pink)
Toro y Moi “Saturday Love” (Carpark)
Madhouse “Fifteen” (Warner Bros.)
The Family “Screams of Passion (Extended Version)” (Warner Bros.)
DJ Quik “Do Today (featuring Jon B. and BlaKKazz K.K.)” (Mad Science)
?uestlove, The Foreign Exchange, Zo!, and Carlitta Durand “Purple Flip”
Prince “Wouldn’t You Love to Love Me”
Frank Ocean “Songs for Women”
Prince and the Revolution “I Would Die 4 U/Baby I’m A Star (Live, Landover, MD, 1984)”
Frank Ocean “Voodoo”

Miami producer-cum-singer Induce has always been drawn to the sounds of soul and R&B. Stories of him as a five-year-old singing (loudly) Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” in his local department store—his mother half-amused, half-horrified in tow—trace his interests back to the likes of Motown, and soon enough, Michael Jackson. As the ’90s slid on, Induce later became hooked on new jack swing, Jodeci, and Boyz II Men, still traveling along this same path and expanding it into a different era.

While it’s only been in the last few years that he’s started incorporating his own vocals into songs in order to create his own take on his first love, Induce’s single “Pretty,” a boogie groove with obvious nods to Prince, taps into his years of listening experience and gets it right.

In celebration of Issue 50, Induce pays homage to his hometown via a mix for Wax Poetics comprised of Miami boogie gems.

Track List

1. Omari “After Loving You” (Bound Sound) 1983
2. The Blue Denim Band “Spunk in the Funk” (Rose)
3. Komputer Kid “Video Jones” (Jones) 1983
4. Vernon Burch “Do It to Me” (Spector) 1981
5. Klockwurk “Get Up Outcha Seat” (Red Rooster) 1981
6. King Tut “Comin Out” (TK Disco) 1980
7. Unit 3 “Let’s Boogie (Tonight)” (Bound Sound) 1982
8. Hokis Pokis “Can’t Wait for Love” (Shield) 1975
9. Michael Sterling “Desperate” (Success) 1983
10. Mirror “Give It Up” (Get Off) 1979
11. Starr’s Computer Band “Computer Rock Control” (Survivor) 1983
12. Fall-Out “Der – Mer” (Tshamba) 1983
13. Osé “Party Beat” (Treasure) 1984
14. Extra Funk Factory “Final Mix” (Konduko) 1984

Egon at Now-Again Records talks about Kourosh Yaghmaei and the collection Back From the Brink: Pre-Revolution Psychedelic Rock From Iran: 1973-1979.
Author Tad Hershorn discusses his book Norman Granz: The Man Who Used Jazz for Justice, published by University of California Press.
Olan O’Brien at Dublin-based All City Records is releasing some great new music by DevonWho and Krystal Klear in early 2012.
Chuck Eddy has a new book out called Rock and Roll Always Forgets: A Quarter Century of Music Criticism. He has a few things to say.

Beats by Quelle Chris. Instrumental versions of songs from his album Shotgun & Sleek Rifle and Danny Brown’s XXX.

Track List

1. Egon interview
2. “Ghazal” Kourosh Yaghmaei
3. Egon interview
4. “Ghahr” Kourosh Yaghmaei
5. Tad Hershorn interview
6. “Lady Be Good” Charlie Parker with Jazz at the Philharmonic (1946)
7. Tad Hershorn interview
8. “Indiana” Lionel Hampton (with Oscar Peterson, Ray Brown, Buddy Rich, Herb Ellis) (1954)
9. Olan O’Brien interview
10. “Strange Brew” DevonWho
11. Olan O’Brien interview
12. “From The Start” Krystal Klear
13. Chuck Eddy interview
14. “Flamethrower” The J. Geils Band
15. Chuck Eddy interview
16. “I Ain’t Got Nobody” Emmett Miller

Record Mart, 1973. © Brian Merlis Colection, www.brooklynpix.com

The Times Square Subway station is one of the busiest in the world, serving more than fifty-eight million passengers a year. Not a bad place to set up business—and in 1961, that’s exactly what Jesse Moskowitz did, opening a tiny record store in an odd crook of a subterranean tunnel that connected subway platforms to daylight above. The store lay beyond the turnstiles and could only be reached via the purchase of a token–not an issue for the underground denizens who used the station as a transfer point between downtown jobs and homes that were farther flung, particularly the first and second generation Latinos whose population was then booming in the city. Moskowitz, along with employees like future Latin music historian Harry Sepulveda, recognized this, and Record Mart, as the shop was known, developed a reputation as a go-to spot for the latest in mambo and its hip nephew salsa.

Wax Poetics contributor Pablo “DJ Bongohead” Yglesias tells the terrific tale of Record Mart and its spin-off record label, Montuno, in a hefty thirty-page booklet that accompanies a nuanced cross-section of the music from the noted independent label. Available on vinyl, CD, and digital formats from Vampisoul, Subway Salsa: The Montuno Records Story is a welcome addition to any Latin music lover’s library and a nice counterpoint to the proverbial gorila de 800 libras that is the Fania/Vaya/Alegre/Tico family.

Highlights from the twenty-eight-song compilation are many, stretching from the early Afro-Pachanga classic “Bon Bon De Chocolate” by Lou Pérez through several mid-’70s burners from Yambú (excluding, however, their disco hit “Sunny”) to solid mid-’80s offerings from Zaperoko and Airto Moreira.