Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Song Spotlight: James Brown's "Funky Drummer"


            At the beginning of the summer, I had the opportunity to see Bruno Mars live during his “Moonshine Jungle” tour. The roadies began assembling the massive stage set behind an equally massive curtain, I began grooving to the tunes booming from the house speakers, including some Black Keys, the English Beat, and to my extreme delight, “Superman” by Goldfinger. But the last tune the sound crew chose, which faded right into Bruno Mars’ monstrous opener, was one I’d never heard before but have since become addicted to: James Brown’s soulful vamp, “Funky Drummer.”
            Born from an improvised jam,[1] “Funky Drummer” is over nine minutes of pure groove. The band holds down a funky and freeform riff behind alternating organ and saxophone solos, punctuated by James’ signature jive interjections. Though the piece is largely amorphous, James steers the band through occasional changes and dynamics, captaining his cruising ship of soul.
            What really appeals to me in this tune is how truly organic it feels; you can actually listen to this tune grow. The entire band takes a simple idea and explores all of its possibilities, leaving all direction in the capable hands of James and allowing the groove to go where it needs to go and become what it is meant to be. James improvises 100% of his part, switching from organ to vocal and back on a whim. Beneath that, his horn and rhythm sections simply dominate the backdrop into which they’ve settled, with each musician occasionally peeking through with an improv’d feel or line. In fact, although James and his zen-like ad-libs are forefront in the song, it is the contribution of the rhythm section—or rather, one specific rhythm instrument—that truly makes the tune.


            Behind the drum kit and everything else sits Clyde Stubblefield, who for the entire tune holds down a simple but immaculate beat, occasionally adding flair and flam without ever losing control of the rhythm. The incessant hi-hat play he offers might turn the arms of another drummer to putty, but Stubblefield works his sticks without difficulty. His drumming is funky enough to catch James’ attention halfway through, who decides to “give the drummer some of this funky soul,” offering him a four-bar-break to “let [him] go.”[2] When the break comes, the beat that Stubblefield puts down is one that has since come to define the idea of groove, so impressive in its solidity and feel that James Brown soon declares “the name of this tune is ‘the Funky Drummer.’” Truly, despite all the fantastic improvisation and instrumentation present in this jam, the defining moment of this tune comes in Stubblefield’s break, where he asserts his ownership of this tune.
            “Don’t turn it loose,” James Brown calls to Stubblefield before the break, “Cuz it’s a mother.”[3] The funky and soulful drum line Stubblefield offers us in this song is certainly a “mother,” having since become one of the most sampled drum breaks in all of music history.[4] With those four bars, James Brown realized that their vamp had transcended the term “jam session,” and Clyde Stubblefield solidified himself as the Funky Drummer[5]. His improvisational but sturdy style of drumming has inspired countless artists in countless genres, proving that a drummer doesn’t need to venture far from rhythm to impress. “Funky Drummer” is a tight groove and an extremely fun tune, a fantastic selection to pump the crowd up, myself included, for Bruno Mars’ live show. If ever you’re feeling you could use a little more soul in your day, this tune ought to be your first destination.



Sunday, August 25, 2013

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Howl


            For a band to find a sound that is truly unique seems almost impossible in our wireless world, though every artist continually strives to create something that no one has ever experienced before. Too often in music, terms like “genre” and “style” become adhesive, sticking to artists and forever defining their journey through their own music. Occasionally, however, a band is able to step away from the genre barrier, allowing them to try their sound in new and exciting ways, and for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, their third LP Howl gives them just such an opportunity.
            The sound of Howl is extremely varied, extending its reach all over the genre spectrum, touching blues, folk, alternative rock, and even country. However, the signature feel of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club is present and prevalent no matter where their sound may roam. There is an obvious theme that BRMC brings to this record, unifying every song no matter how far the tone moves from the standard; in an interview with Morphism, Peter Hayes described it as “the battle of trying to find counterculture and trying to revise it, if for nothing more than myself.”[1] The band is obviously a tight unit, opting for simple instrumentation more often than flourish. Robert Levon Been is a true rhythm-section man, holding down the low end with a bass tone that is simultaneously a thump and a growl—however, he is never afraid to let his fingers run, providing interesting fills that are fun without being flashy. The guitar playing of Peter Hayes is just as solid; his alternation of finger-picking and thrashy strumming determine the energy of each song, while his extremely varied guitar tone (he seems to have a different sound for every tune) defines the feel. There is unfortunately a distinct lack of inventive drumming on the record, but Hayes fills that void easily with his intricate and heartfelt vocals that sometimes reach into the very corners of his range. While a big focus on the record seems to be on Peter Hayes’ contribution, the music never loses the impression that this is “a band effort” rather than “a man effort,” as each tune is full of both soul and surprise form this trio.
            Perhaps the biggest surprise on Howl is the heavy influence of gospel, present in both the sound and writing on the record. Besides the overt “Gospel Song,” the album is dripping with gentle keys and choral vocals, from the hidden track “Open Invitation” to the drawling ballad “Promise” (allegedly the only tune to feature Nick Jago, the band’s official drummer).[2] The band further emulates this genre in songs like “Restless Sinner” and “Devil’s Waitin’,” which consistently reference religious images and ideas, further tying the tunes in the church-like atmosphere the music provides. The composition of the songs is also a callback to gospel, as the instrumentation takes the backseat, allowing the focus to fall on the vocal melody, an idea praised by Tim Sendra of AllMusic: “On these songs and elsewhere the vocals are much more a part of the sound now as they are more upfront and impassioned.[3] The subtle influence of gospel on Black Rebel Motorcycle Club allows this band to take a unique approach to the weathered styles of blues and folk, providing us with a refreshing and original sound.
            One tune that really caught my attention on this record is “Ain’t No Easy Way.” While this song is at its core a rocking tune, that rock has been ground up and effortlessly blended with a healthy helping of country which allows it to really stand out. Besides the obvious steel guitars and growling harmonicas, the overall approach to the tune reminisces of country, with a simple pop-soaked melody and a radiating chorus that really drive the tune. The energy of the song, however, is pulled straight from the heart of rock ‘n’ roll, with pounding drums alternating dynamics that build the perfect amount of tension, leading Amanda Petrusich of Pitchfork to name it a “perfectly convincing throwdown, oddly free of awkward contrivances.”[4] Although this song’s apparent pull towards pop and country originally pushed me away from connecting with it, the fact that “Ain’t No Easy Way” is both ridiculously catchy and well assembled has me looking forward to it every time I spin this record.


            Similar to their musical approach to this record, the lyrical stylings of Peter Hayes and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are varied and dynamic, helping to add real depth to their songs where their music might lack it. Like the instrumentation, often Hayes’ lyrics are simple, but they rarely if ever rely on gimmicks or clichés. Similar to Allen Ginsberg, whose famous poem lends both the record and the second track a title,[5] Hayes explores phrasing and diction are unique, as he digs deep to find original ways to express himself. In “Howl,” the speaker comes to understand his ultimate fate with the line “Now I know that my eyes must close here;”[6] in “The Line,” the speaker is so certain and observant, as he states that “There is no burden left to bear…I have no conscience to keep clear.”[7] Hayes’ writing is also very image-centric, as he focuses on themes such as religion or light vs. darkness, especially in tunes like “Fault Line” and “Restless Sinner,” where the vocal melodies, and therefore the lyrics, are placed in the spotlight.
            One example in which Peter Hayes’ word choices and phrasing really come together powerfully is “Sympathetic Noose.” Powered by a heady groove that’s almost certainly the strongest on the album, this song is a lyrical playground for Hayes. His phrasing is original and interesting; his speaker’s assertion “I’ve got a feeling in my boots” is one of many unique metaphors lining this song’s lyrics. Hayes also consistently repeats sounds and phrases while morphing the meaning of each line by changing only a word or two, adding a flow to the song that other tunes can’t see to approach. For instance, throughout the song the speaker lists off things that he doesn’t know how to be: “I don’t know how to be careful / I don’t know how to be there for.”[8] With this idea, he changes only a syllable or two with each line, maintaining both rhyme and sound while subtly altering the meaning of each line. With its heavy writing and light-hearted musicianship, “Sympathetic Noose” is the culmination of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s simple forays into the complexity of sound and writing.


            While this record certainly has a lot going for it, it is ultimately a simple record—not a bad thing, but in the case of Howl, not quite a good thing either. Frankly, the band’s simplistic approach to composition leaves me desiring more. The tunes on this album feel underdeveloped, as if Black Rebel Motorcycle Club has only explored the topmost layer of their music. The straightforward instrumentation is endearing, yet, with the exception of Robert Levon Been’s excursions on the bass, the record is devoid of improvisation or melodic playing. What is present on Howl shows the potential of this group of musicians, yet the finished product falls short of that potential, not quite quenching my sonic thirst as thoroughly as I think it could.
            Howl provides the listener with a buffet of sounds, proving that varying approaches to both composition and presentation in music can allow an artist to reach new depths in creation. However, the end product seems undershot for such a musical endeavor, as the band’s simplistic approach leaves a few holes to be filled. However, to even consider such an undertaking proves that Black Rebel Motorcycle Club is a band with gall, who isn’t afraid to approach the barriers placed about them by fans and critics and break them down on their own.  

Tunes to Check Out:
1) Sympathetic Noose
2) Weight of the World
3) Shuffle Your Feet