Taylor Hill’s tribute episode “Danceteria: Selections from DJ Anita Sarko” will air live on Freeform Portland Wednesday June 26th at 4pm Pacific.
There’s a random trajectory to Anita Sarko’s formative years. She grew up in Detroit and was educated in Arizona. Her first DJ gig was at a college radio station in Atlanta. But her appetite for culture soon led her to New York, where her story really starts. After firmly planting herself at the center of the bustling NYC club culture, she quickly became known for her eclectic and evocative musical mix.
In 1979 she became the VIP room DJ at Tribeca’s Mudd Club. It was here that DJ Anita Sarko became the selector antithesis to Studio 54’s blown out schmaltzy disco glam, and established herself as a genre defying taste maker, among the first to bring hip hop downtown. As the 80s raged on she became the resident DJ at the all too hip all too new wave Danceteria.
It’s hard to overstate how important these clubs were to music culture back then. They were basically the breeding ground for all new music. And downtown nightclubs like The Palladium and Danceteria (both with resident DJ Anita Sarko) were among the first to be truly culturally diverse. Sure, white people would cruise up to Harlem to gawk at black culture in the jazz era but it was still very racially segregated and unequal. This new wave downtown club scene represented a very mixed audience, racially and sexually.
On any given night Anita, a midwestern white lady, could be playing African boogie records for a group of Puerto Rican club kids and that was an entirely new thing culturally. It was clear this was an inclusive community. The bands from this scene and the records made during this time reflect the many influences of its demographic. Rock, rap, pop, world, dance, gospel were all melding and cross sectioning, to varying musical results, and DJ Anita Sarko was at the helm.
She did all the things the mostly male, mostly radio, disc-jockeys were doing, did it better, and did it in high heels. According to entertainment journalist and nightlife chronicler Michael Musto, “She really was alone in a man’s world.”
A sharp wit and bold attitude set her apart. Musto continues, “She was a tough broad who didn’t like being mistreated … Anyone who requested a particular record from Anita was greeted with the retort that she wasn’t a jukebox, otherwise you could just bend her over and put in a quarter!”
Anita brought up-and-coming acts like Madonna and the Beastie Boys to perform some of their first shows. She worked with the artist Jean-Michel Basquiat and designers Vivienne Westwood and Marc Jacobs. As a music and nightlife journalist she wrote for downtown magazines like Paper, Egg, and Interview.
However she started struggling in the twenty first century to survive as a New York elder. Digital was replacing vinyl and streaming was replacing DJs. And as Rudy ‘Ghouliani’ set out to wash the mean city streets with a gilded firehose, gentrification began replacing legendary nightclubs with high end apartments and shops.
This part of Anita’s story becomes very sad. No one would hire an aging woman to work the floor in a trendy nightclub. Her radio show on SiriusXM was dropped and she went broke. A cancer diagnosis in 2010 didn’t help matters either. She survived the cancer, only to take her own life in 2015 at the (alleged) age of 68. Her exact age was estimated. Anita, ever mercurial, kept it a secret.
I could go off on the music industry here – pointing out how much money gets thrown at the same boring acts while true pioneers get neglected and left in the dust. But I’d rather focus on Anita, in her prime – a powerful force to be reckoned with. Talented, innovative, influential – a beacon of light illuminating the past while pushing culture into the future. Strong, determined, and not taking any shit from anyone. Decked out like a Hollywood movie star, cueing up her next record.
Taylor Hill is a writer, musician, and freak currently hosting The Based Goth Radio Show, Wednesdays 4-6pm, on Freeform Portland. mixcloud.com/taylorhill
When Robert Moog sold his first vacuum-tube theremin kit back in the early 1950s, one would scarcely imagine he envisioned the world-changing impacts of his inventions upon the music industry. We have come to love these sounds over the past half-century and can quickly pinpoint the rich and warm analog timbres of a Moog synthesizer from Eddie Van Halen to Michael Jackson records and more.
While the blasting polyphonic chord patterns of Kraftwerk and Fatboy Slim got the dance-floors moving with their electronic rhythms throughout the 70s and 80s, an underground movement was utilizing the same musical hardware to accomplish an end that was as soulful as it was unprecedented.
This urban movement started in the Bronx in the mid-seventies; where emcees would perform spoken poetry over house and block party beats. There have been many iterations, generations, and manifestations of rap music through the years, all of which are defined by the signature sounds of their era. The 70s records were marked with heavy use of sample-based recordings with the spoken performance over the top. These mixes were termed “flipping,” and helped boost the genre into the mainstream by the end of the decade when Kurtis Blow’s single “The Breaks” became the first certified gold rap song.
The genre evolved through the 80s with the invention of the 808 drum machine which popular publications characterized as the Fender Stratocaster of the hip hop genre. I could write an entire dissertation on the influence of the drum machine, sampling, and its effects on music, but let’s get back to what we are here to talk about: The Moog Synth.
Life’s three constants are death, taxes, and musical experimentation. The drum machine was monumental, but by the early 90s, a small group of West Coast artists was bringing it all together with a touch of added soul. Funk breaks of the 70s were arranged over chopped-up jazz and blues progressions, with the squelching bass line sounds of the Moog synthesizer acting as the backbone of what soon earned the genre title of G-Funk.
Dr. Dre was the young producer who spearheaded this West Coast clique. His signature sound leaned heavily on the influence of Parliament Funkadelic’s keyboardist to achieve its signature groove and time signatures. The use of the thick and deep bass lines provided by the Minimoog became the staple of the entire West Coast vibe. These melodic, trippy, and heavily compressed bass lines can be seen all over his timeless album: “The Chronic.”
There were many phenomenal albums released around this same time. Biggie, Nas, Tribe Called Quest, and Public Enemy all dropped hit records around 1992, but Dr. Dre’s album stands out from the crowd.
The carnivorous nature of rap music means that it salvages old ideas and forms and molds them in a new way. But “The Chronic” was so much more than this; it was the culmination of thirty years of music. Moreover, it turned this amalgamation of inspiration into a Pandora’s box just waiting for future generations to crack. All the while, the majority of its floor-shaking bass lines were provided courtesy of Mr. Robert Moog.
Hip-hop continued to evolve throughout the 90s, and soon a new name rose up from a small neighborhood in Detroit. James Yancey, aka J Dilla, grew up in a household where his mom was a singer and his dad was a multi-instrumentalist. It didn’t take long for this young producer’s vast library of warm drum hits, muddles instrumentations, and grizzled Minimoog-fueled grooves to get production credits on many acclaimed records.
J Dilla passed away three days after his album “Donuts” was released in 2006. He was 32. He was a living legend during his time and lives on as a pioneer and visionary to bedroom producers and classical trained musicians alike. His use of poly-rhythmic drum patterns with a signature swing timing underneath interweaving melodies make his sound easily recognizable and damn near impossible to imitate.
The tools of Dilla’s genius were his Akai MPC and his iconic Minimoog Voyager (which now finds its home within the Smithsonian.) When synthesizers initially came to market, most were built to be large, expensive, and complex modular synthesizers. This made them inaccessible to the majority of musicians that sought to use them. The Minimoog was the direct answer to this issue, allowing an “affordable” alternative that offered all of the synths most powerful features all included within the unit. The Minimoog stopped production in the early 80s but began again with the Voyager in 2002 after Bob Moog repurchased the company.
Much has changed within this genre since the formative years of hip-hop in the early to mid-nineties. Some argue that the crystal clear mix-downs seen in contemporary, digitally-produced records are the fine-tuned destination of where hip-hop deserves to be in 2019. Far more debate that hip-hop today lacks a particular soul, grit, texture, swing, and subtle imperfections that analog equipment similar to the Minimoog brings to the table. This hardware was an extension of Dre and Dilla’s hand and brought those sought after sounds to all of their signature productions of yesteryear.
William Vance is a music producer and DJ who looks to bring the sounds of the Pacific Northwest to life through much of his creative work. Not one to take life too seriously, he is quick to admire a witty turn of phrase or an off-kilter time signature when it catches him by surprise. Will spends most of his time indoors writing blurbs, articles, posts, songs, and music. But on the rare occasion that you do see him out in the daylight, feel free to say hello to him and his best friends: Stephanie and his Corgi named Bruno.
Like you I am sitting here thinking about Roky Erickson. I heard the news that he passed away two days ago. Sad news. Since I was on my computer when I heard the news, my immediate reaction was to check my ipod, and load up a few 13th Floor Elevators songs I had not heard in a while. A fairly pitiful reaction I admit. But I did not know the man personally, I knew his music; so that is where I went to find solace and a connection.
I first encountered the music of the 13th Floor Elevators when I heard the band Television doing a live song entitled “The Blow Up.” I found out later that the song was in fact a re-titled version of the song “Fire Engine” that appeared on the first 13th Floor Elevators album. I liked the song, and being that sort of music fan, I sought out the 13th Floor Elevators album.
The debut album is a masterpiece. Most people will remember the band for their hit, “You’re Gonna Miss Me,” or even dismiss them as one-hit wonders, but I think the 13th Floor Elevators were operating at a far different level. At the time the band recorded their first album, the Beatles had recently ceased to tour and were releasing albums that seemed like complete works as a whole, not just collections of various singles. The music mindset in the mid-Sixties was changing, and albums were about to become important statements. The 13th Floor Elevators were ahead of the game. Their debut album preceded albums by the Velvet Underground, The Doors, Love and many others, all of whom would make album-sized statements to the kids. Initially, I found the album hard to listen to, there was a significant repeated noise in every song that I could not identify, which was obviously not a mistake or accident. It was only after not concentrating on that noise that I heard the songs, the voice, and guitars as intended; sort of like looking through a windshield and seeing the road beyond, by not focusing on the raindrops on the glass itself.
I quickly became entranced by Roky Erickson’s voice, and the lyrics and the rhythms by which the band moved on the album. They were a garage rock band practically inventing psychedelic music. Go ahead and get out the album, The Psychedelic Sounds of The 13th Floor Elevators, and drop the needle at the beginning of any song; it will be as stunning today as it was in 1966.
Listen to that loud thumping bass on “Reverberation,” while the guitars charge along. Listen to “You Don’t Know,” with its slithering tempo changes, picking up pace at the end, as though you are taking off in flight. Listen to “Thru The Rhythm,” with its dense lyrics put up against a twanging crash of guitars, and Roky getting all the way out, with his screams, a singular vocal sound in the history of rock’n’roll. Or the near-epic length “Rollercoaster,” starting slow, like a roller coaster going up the track towards the first drop, then racing along, with the guitars playing a constant lead throughout, like the screaming wheels of an amusement park ride.
It was years later that I came to learn that Roky Erickson did not write the lyrics to many of the songs; they were written by Tommy Hall. Probably around the same time I came to understand that fact, I discovered what exactly made that noise on the 13th Floor Elevators record. I saw a video performance of the band from 1966, they were at some sort of staged pool party, with the obligatory TV teenage fans, and there was one member, Tommy Hall, blowing wildly into the mouth of jug bottle. That was the noise that had off put me at first; over time it has become an essential and unique element in the band’s sound.
Of course, like all rock’n’roll bands, The 13th Floor Elevators made a few missteps on the way to success. They signed to a small label, International Artists, who were caught with their pants down by the success of the band’s single. They had trouble keeping the record in print. When they did press copies of the single and the album, they used recycled vinyl, and many of the original pressings were of inferior quality compared to many of the contemporary records of the day. Considering the pressing issue, I am happy to state that the album was fairly well recorded, and recent reissues of both the Mono and Stereo pressings of the album are fantastic.
At some point the band relocated from Texas to San Francisco, California. The band’s arrival just slightly predated the psychedelic explosion of 1967. In fact, I am willing to bet the band’s shows in San Francisco demonstrated to the many folk-inspired musicians (who went on to form bands like Jefferson Airplane, Grateful Dead and Big Brother & Holding Company), how to rock. The 13th Floor Elevators were a force to be reckoned with on stage. The band was known to ingest acid prior to performing and listening to a vintage live recording from San Francisco, it is easy to imagine the band tripping in tandem, one mind, one sound.
The misstep with San Francisco though, is that band opted to return to Texas, just before the summer of love in 1967, when San Francisco become the focal point of psychedelic music and culture.
Despite the struggles, the band went on to record a second album, another masterpiece, Easter Everywhere. By now the band was a psychedelic group with garage rock roots. A few of the songs were of extended lengths, epics like “Slip Inside this House,” “Postures (Leave Your Body Behind,” starting and ending the second album. In between those songs, the band included a fantastic cover of the Bob Dylan song, “Baby Blue,” with heavy psyched-out near-floating guitar work. Rockers, such as “Levitation,” would have easily have fit on the first album. “Earthquake,” with its shifting tempos and exceedingly fuzzed-out guitar, seemingly lived up to its title.
Around the time the band was set to work on a third album, Roky Erickson was arrested for possession of marijuana, which at that time in Texas was a serious crime, punishable by years in prison, no matter the amount of the substance found on the accused. Not wishing to go to prison, Roky Erickson plead insanity and was sentenced to a mental health facility. He spent close to three years in that facility, and was given shock therapy and reported Thorazine to “cure” him. No surprise that upon his release he was not quite the same person that fronted The 13th Floor Elevators.
Over the course of years, Erickson made a few records, some of which I owned, some of which I did not. The lightning in the bottle that had been the man himself in the 13th Floor Elevators, seemingly no longer existed. That being said there are some memorable songs from his solo years: “I have always been here before,” “You Don’t Love Me Yet,” “Two Headed Dog (Red Temple Prayer),” and “Creature with the Atom Brain” come to mind.
After his release from the psychiatric facility, Roky Erickson’s life was not easy. He experienced mental health issues, financial issues, and near obscurity. I am happy to say that near the end of his life, it took a turn to the positive, with the band, The 13th Floor Elevators briefly re-forming to perform at the Levitation Festival in 2015. By all accounts, the band pulled it off, a stunning performance.
As the 21st Century marches on, I realise I am becoming accustomed to reading in the news of the death of famed and well-loved musicians. The gnashing teeth of time will get us all eventually. Musicians who helped to shape my taste in music, which further helped to shape the sort of person I have become. The recent losses of David Bowie and Mark E. Smith gutted me, as does the loss of Roky Erickson. I do not believe in an afterlife, but I do believe in a life well-lived, and a legacy or memory that a person leaves behind. These memories are especially impactful for artists and musicians. Future generations will always discover and rediscover the people that shaped and changed the times in which they lived.
Please do so now: go put on an album by The 13th Floor Elevators.
Upon the occasion of Yennayer, the Amazigh (Berber) New Year, in January, I had the opportunity to host Algerian musician, Moh Alileche, on Freeform Portland to talk about Amazigh culture and politics. The Amazigh people are indigenous to northern Africa, having lived throughout the Maghreb region for many thousands of years. There are a number of Amazigh subgroups, including the Kabyle and the Tuareg (Tamasheq), the spread of whose traditional homes long predate the postcolonial national borders that exist today.
In discussing the experience of the Amazigh people in Algeria just those few months ago, it did not seem that Algeria was on the brink of instability. In recent weeks, however, there has been considerable upheaval in Algeria; although it is not clear that it will lead to meaningful, lasting change.
Moh Alileche in the Freeform studio
Alileche is originally from Algeria. He moved to the US just prior to the start of the 1990’s brutal civil war in Algeria, that led to the deaths of up to 200,000 people. After arriving in the US, he unintentionally fell into the role of cultural ambassador for the Amazigh people of Algeria — using music as his means of education and communication.
Algeria gained independence from France in 1962, after an eight year war. President Abdelaziz Bouteflika, age 82, has been in power since 1999. He was seriously impaired by a series of strokes and has not been seen in public in seven years — often spending time in Europe. His death has often been rumored, dispelled only by intermittent appearances on Youtube. Misinformation regarding Bouteflika’s condition is rampant, even at the time of his stroke in 2013, when the prime minister reported the situation was not serious. In reality, Bouteflika was paralyzed and dependent upon a wheelchair. He did manage to get re-elected in 2014, without ever campaigning in person. Bouteflika remains a figurehead for a government thought to be ruled by military powers, and which continues to serve the interests of the oil and gas industry. Alileche described the subtle yet effective ways in which the government has managed to manipulate the media and cultural institutions in Algeria, helping to maintain oligarchy control of the nation. On the day of our interview, we learned that the band Tinariwenhad been prevented from taking the stage at a festival in Algeria and their subsequent tour canceled, due to concerns about the political impact of their music, which represents decades of seeking autonomy for the Tuareg people. There is a sense that France and the European Union turn a blind eye to human rights concerns in Algeria, because of the importance of the nation’s supply of petroleum and natural resources.
The Arab Spring of the first part of this decade did not extend to Algeria, apparently because Algeria’s civil war had left the nation scarred and fearful of insecurity and instability. In recent months though, there have been repeated huge protests in Algiers, the capital of Algeria. President Bouteflika’s government agreed that he would not run again as a candidate in April, for what would have been his fifth term. The newly appointed prime minister, Noureddine Bedoui, has promised to work towards the creation of a new government. For now, the power remains in the hands of an interim government, led by a Constitutional Council, which is guided by powerful military figures. But massive protests continue in the country every Friday, as the people demand real change in the government. Just this weekend, the Council canceled a scheduled election for July 4, representing a victory for the protestors after nearly four months of weekly rallies, as there was no candidate representing their interests. Unfortunately, the experience of decades of political manipulation by the powerful in Algeria tempers the hope that the current movement for change will lead to lasting benefits for a broader cross-section of the Algerian people.
Fans of the Silver Jews often recognize the lyrical genius of songwriter and founding constant member David Berman. The band formed in 1989, as an indie rock band in New York by Pavement members, Steve Malkmus, Bob Nastanovich with Berman. The trio collaborated, recording lo-fi tapes in their living rooms. Silver Jews were often promoted or known as a Pavement side band which continued to haunt Berman for years until the bands’ break up in 2009.
The Natural Bridge (1996) released on Chicago label Drag City was a lo-fi indie masterpiece of one liners and heart breaking songs sung by Berman in a grandiose monotone storytelling voice, which established the band’s fan base. The opening track, “How To Rent A Room,” hooked me in to being a Silver Jews fan hearing the opening lyric, “No, I don’t really want to die; I only want to die in your eyes.” This line caused a synapse to fire in my temporal lobe affecting my limbic system where I would play The Natural Bridge when I was with a potential partner or on a date, especially in the late 90’s. Berman is many Silver Jews fans’ lyrical savant and I fully credit him in supporting me delegating all my romantic socializations.
Dating and/or in a relationship of some kind, here are 5 Silver Jews pick up one liners/phrases to come onto your honey with when Spring fever inspires your desire to fill your “Friday night fever.”
Weekend Family Music Hour has been with Freeform since the station was established. Opal (12), Ayler (10) and Karen (mom). As a family we feel so privileged to have an affordable family activity that brings us together with your family’s lives and letting us share our musical household tastes. We love reciting Chinese horoscope predictions for Asian Lunar New Year, playing our Moog (Halloween!), selecting songs based on politics or societal challenges and Holidays! Check out our seasonal shows! Mostly ethnic; folk, rock, synth, disco, soul, hip hop, experimental and jazz/tongue jazz.
Western influences in Japanese pop music can be found starting 100 years ago. Jazz journeyed back over the Pacific on steamers by citizens traveling abroad, first in sheet music form, and then as 78s. It was a woman singer named Sumako Matsui who got it all going, in 1914, with a shellac side called “Katyûsya No Uta” which sold an unheard-of 20,000 copies. It was the beginning of a genre called ryûkôka (‘fashionable songs’). The trend continued into the 1920s as the recording industry matured and began cross-marketing music and cinema, with Chiyako Sato’s title track from the film “Tokyo March” so successful, it caused one critic to worry that “the taste of the citizens of Tokyo will become depraved beyond salvation.” As in the West, patriarchal fears of feminine empowerment were palpable as modernity and capitalism upended traditional gender roles. Japan’s militarist expansion from 1936-45 resulted in the banning of western music, but America’s postwar occupation brought Kasagi Sizuko’s runaway hit “Tôkyô Boogie-Woogie” whose lyrics incorporated words like ukiuki (‘buoyant’) and zukizuki(‘throbbing’) to rhyme with boogie-woogie.
Television and radio were key to the dissemination of imported rockabilly and surf music. The Ventures visit in 1962 is often referenced as a key moment in Japan on par with The Beatles landing at JFK in America. Japanese kids went wild for this new sound, dubbed ereki bûmu (‘elec boom’). Post-British Invasion, it became gurûpu saunzu(‘group sounds’), with vocal harmony and beats taking center stage. Although women were absent from these bands, they continued to be driving forces in enka and kayōkyoku, the two genres that had diverged from ryûkôka. Enka was ballad-centric, traditionalist, and has been compared to the Blues due to its melancholic tone. Kayōkyoku (‘pop songs’) borrowed heavily from western melody. Just as in the West, masculine attitudes surrounding rock music continued to dominate the discourse and define the parameters of what was worthy or authentic. As much as it was used to describe, Kayōkyoku was used to deride those who sang commercialized material written by others.
The Girl Group explosion that began in 1963 in the U.S. never really caught on in Japan. There were a few duet teams–The Peanuts, Jun & Nene–but most women artists were solo acts until the early J-pop era. Oddly, very few covered any of the U.S. Girl Group hits so common in other Asian states, like Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore. Japanese teen women singers were more likely to cover “adultish” crossover acts like Connie Francis than The Chiffons. Almost all of the top artists worked with original material, written for them by songwriting teams, much like a Brill-Building arrangement. Western covers were often album filler, with few appearing as 7″ releases. One exception to this is Italian singer Mina, who was hugely influential among artists like The Peanuts, Kayoko Moriyama, Maria Anzai, and Mieko Hirota, all of whom recorded and released Japanese-language versions of her songs as singles.
Biographical information in English is limited. Japanese name order has been flipped to reflect Western conventions.
Hibari Misora
Without question, Misora is the most famous woman singer in the history of postwar Japanese pop music. Due to the fact that she was a child star, had yakuza mob connections, and embraced kitschy stage attire, she has been called the Japanese equivalent of Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, and Elvis Presley. Her first recordings mimicked rival Shizuko Kasagi’s colonialist boogie music, but the 1950 release of “Echigo Shishi No Uta” introduced a new synthesis of East and West that silenced her early critics and put her on the path to superstardom. She recorded thousands of songs in a variety of genres, mainly in the enka style. Her biggest kayōkyoku hit came out on Columbia in 1967, an A-side called “Makkana Taiyō” (Deep Red Sun), where she is backed by Jacky Yoshikawa & His Blue Comets, one of the best Group Sounds bands. LISTEN
Jun Mayuzumi
Mayuzumi was massively famous and had a great vocal range and dynamic stage presence, spending the majority of her career recording for Capitol Japan. Her debut 7″ release “Hallelujah” from 1967 unleashed a flood of remarkable sides: “Otome No Inori”; “Angel Love” b/w “Black Room”; “Something Feelin’ And It’s Saturday Night”; “First Heartache”; and “Among the Clouds” b/w “Dreamin’,” a B-side that starts ingeniously with a fake skip. No other kayōkyoku house band could compare to Mayuzumi’s, at least with regard to the consistency of their swinging percussive beats (see this rare live TV performance of “Angel Love”). In the early 70s, she would switch to Phillips and gradually shift her sound towards ballads as the decade wore on. Since most are already familiar with the brilliant “Black Room,” listen to what she does with this kicking version of the traditional Japanese song “Yagi Bushi” from her 1969 LP Recital, recorded live at Tokyo’s Sankei Hall, with Akira Ishikawa on drums. LISTEN
Akiko Wada
Another Japanese superstar of mixed Korean ancestry (like Hibari Misora), Wada’s deep bluesy sound is immediately distinguishable from all of her kayōkyoku peers. In terms of her chesty voice, and also being embraced early on by the LGBTQ community, she could be called Japan’s equivalent of Britain’s Dusty Springfield or Yugoslavia’s Beti Đorđević. Like them, Wada excelled at big power ballad numbers and could easily match the volume of her supporting orchestras, while always managing to swing her phrasing in a soulful way. She also starred in films, famously playing a biker gang girl, along with Meiko Kaji, in Stray Cat Rock: Delinquent Girl Boss, from 1970, in which she sings a portion of her famed flip-side to “In The Pouring Rain,” a B-side jammer called “Boy & Girl.” For us, it rarely gets better than the vibrato acrobatics, subsonic trombones, and tastefully sprinkled fuzz featured on this 1971 single on RCA, “Sotsugyou Sasete Yo.” LISTEN
Yumi & Emi Ito (The Peanuts)
Twin sisters Yumi and Emi Ito are best known in the U.S. for their role in the 1961 Toho film Mothra, where they play humanoid anti-nuclear activist fairies who ride on the head of a giant radioactive moth and control it with song. Their repertoire is more varied and international than most singers on this list; attempts at U.S. marketing fell flat, but they were popular in Germany and Austria’s schlager scene. As for their LPs, 1970’s Feelin’ Good: New Dimension of the Peanuts is their pop-psych songbook, with super covers of “Spinning Wheel,” “And I Love Her,” and “Moanin’.” They appeared constantly on Japanese television variety shows until their early retirement from the industry in 1975. Although many solo singers double-tracked their voices, the Itos achieved that by default, sometimes even double-tracking their backing vocals which could create a cavernous choir sound. “The Woman of Tokyo” is probably their best known single, a shimmering spacey example of late 60s orchestral pop. But we are uploading a fave B-side called “Happy’s Coming” that features some cool vocal counterpoint. LISTEN
Chiyo Okumura
Writing of enka at the time and defending it against charges of vulgarity, Hiroyuki Itsuki said it was “like the sound of groaning coming from someone who is being oppressed, discriminated, and trampled on; someone who is suffering under that weight and yet is attempting to resist it with their whole body. That song is needed by people who don’t belong to a large organization, religion, or other forms of solidarity–people who are dispersed and alone.” Such is the sound of Chiyo Okumura, who fluctuates between smoky subtlety and a high-pitched assertive vibrato that borders on the emotionality of enka. Her first teenage releases covered French singer Sylvie Vartan, but she had better success in 1967 with a song called “Kitaguni No Aoi Sora,” a vocal rendition of the Ventures song “Hokkaido Skies.” After that, she really hit her stride with a string of supreme singles, including “Namidairo No Koi,” “Koigurui,” and “Koi No Dorei.” Her LPs, all on Toshiba, are less interesting in terms of non-single offerings. Our hands-down favorite is her 1969 A-side groover “Koi Dorobo,” a 45 which never leaves our DJ crate. It can also be found on pretty much all of her LPs. LISTEN
Tomoko Ogawa
Ogawa has been unjustly neglected on contemporary anthologies, although she was prominent on girl-singer comps back in the day on her home label Toshiba, where she was often paired with peers Jun Mayuzumi and Chiyo Okumura. Like Miki Hirayama, she tossed in a couple of popular English-language tracks per album, her best being an electrified fuzz-laden cover of Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love” from her first LP, around 1968. She also has several great 45s that are worth tracking down. Our favorite, which we are uploading, is an obscure B-side called “Futari Ni Naritai,” a smooth eruption of cool-jazz saxophone, muted trumpet, and piano riffs over periodic crashing drums and Ogawa’s soaring vocal sustains. LISTEN
Akiko Nakamura
Akiko Nakamura recorded prolifically for the King label, mainly singles, and also starred in several films. Her first 7″ was in 1967, “Nijiiro No Mizuumi” (Rainbow-colored Lake), where she is backed by Masaaki Hirao & All Stars Wagon (she also performed this track live in a film, backed by The Jaguars; see here.) “Suna No Jujika,” or “Cross In The Sand,” followed in 1968. She continued to record up until the early 80s. Like Okumura, she was more of a singles act, and her King LPs can get repetitive, re-using past hits as filler while neglecting her best B-sides, of which she had many. To that end, we’re uploading an energetic B-side called “Koi No Magunoria” (Love’s Magnolia) from 1968. LISTEN
Kayoko Moriyama
Japanese women singers had an affinity for their Italian contemporaries, especially Mina, whose Italdisc single “Tintarella di Luna” (Moon Tan) was covered by many, including a young Kayoko Moriyama on her early smash hit “Tsukikage No Napori.” She started on the tail end of Japan’s rockabilly/beach movie craze, her two early 10″ releases featuring covers by Western women like Connie Francis and Alma Cogan. Her biggest hit came much later, on a transcendent 1970 A-side called “Shiroichonosanba”, or “Butterfly Samba,” that came out on Toshiba and went through multiple pressings. She had one LP released around the same time, on Denon. LISTEN
Kiyoko Itoh
Information is hard to find on Kiyoko Itoh. Her first LP was in 1969, called Ballads of Love, and a renowned collaboration with Kuni Kawachi and The Happenings Four followed, Woman At 23 Hour Love-In. She had a handful of singles before then, released on CBS. Our favorite is “When the Apple Blossoms,” a track saturated in warm tones that, like classic early Hibari Misora, creates a sonic mish-mash of “East” and “West.” She recorded this song twice, the second version being slower and jazzier. We have uploaded the original 45 A-side version, issued on Columbia in 1967. LISTEN
Jun & Nene
Another act for which little information exists in English. The duo consisted of Jun Chiaki and Nene Sanae. Our favorite song of theirs is called “O Netsui Naka”, which is a B-side released in 1969 on King Records. It is also on their first LP, released that same year. Like The Peanuts, the vocal fill bits of their double-tracked voices could really make a song; in this one, listen for their cool overdubbed choral fades between lines, during the verses. LISTEN
Miki Hirayama
All of Miki Hirayama’s fantastic early 45 sides–“Beautiful Yokohama”, “Noah’s Ark”, “Don’t You Know, I Love You!”–can conveniently be found on her debut LP My Beautiful Seasons, issued on Columbia in 1971. Among her great album-only cuts is her uptempo, piano-propelled cover of Dusty Springfield’s “You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me,” which booms deeply between organ and snazzy horn blasts. Like Yuki Okazaki, she went synthy in the late 70s and continued to record and work hard into the 80s, performing on television regularly. LISTEN
Mie Nakao
Nakao recorded a slew of groovy singles for Victor. Her first 7″ was in 1962, a cover of “Pretty Little Baby” by Connie Francis. French covers of France Gall and Sylvie Vartan followed. Like Kayoko Moriyama, she was a versatile singer and dabbled in jazz standards and also cinema. Her best pop 45 came out in 1968 and is an absolute double-header, the fuzzy powerhouse “Koi No Sharock” b/w “Sharock No. 1.” Both are essential but we are linking to the former because of that amazing overlapping chorus. LISTEN
Linda Yamamoto
Yamamoto was brilliantly hammy. Her over-the-top stage persona was a clear forerunner of late-70s J-Pop acts like Pink Lady, and she caused a scandal with her stage outfits, with their exposed midriffs, honking bell bottoms, and overall extroverted flamboyance. Her early releases on Minoruphone are pretty run-of-the-mill, but she embraced her dancing side on the Canyon label, from 1971 onward. Since then, her career has gone through several renaissance periods and she continues to perform today. LISTEN
Ayumi Ishida
Another superstar that enjoyed a long and prolific career, Ishida’s early sides on Victor are hard to find, so we can’t comment on those. Her big break came in 1968, with “Blue Light Yokohama,” her first 7″ release on Columbia Japan, which went to number #1 on the pop charts. The powerful “Taiyou Wa Naiteiru” followed. She continued to record throughout the 1970s. LISTEN
Mieko Hirota
Like Kayoko Moriyama, Hirota started her career young at the Toshiba label, covering western pop songs like “You Don’t Own Me,” “Be My Baby,” “Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen,” and Mina’s “Renato.” Her most interesting work came post-1965, on the Columbia label, where she matured as a singer and grew increasingly funky, with standout LPs like Exciting R&B Vol.2. In the 70s, she moved more strictly into jazz and pop standards. From the Columbia period, her best side that we’ve heard is undoubtedly the famed flip of “Ballad of a Doll’s House,” a track called “On A Sorrowful Day.” LISTEN
Yuko Nagisa
Melodies recorded by the Ventures were highly popular among kayōkyoku singers, with new lyrics written to be sung over the main instrumental riff, similar to how jazz bop singer Annie Ross composed lyrics to Wardell Gray’s saxophone solos in 1952. Along with Okumura’s “Hokkaido Skies,” Yuko Nagisa’s “Kyoto Doll” is probably the finest example of this trend, released on Toshiba in 1970. Primarily a singer of darker ballads, there are only a few uptempo Nagisa songs from this period. We have not heard her LPs. She subsequently released a second follow-up Ventures song, called “Reflections in a Palace Lake.” LISTEN
Yuki Okazaki
Okazaki was a movie star. Unlike some kayōkyoku singers who struggled to find a new style in the late-70s, she switched to the disco and boogie scene very well, with the twin LPs Do You Remember Me and So Many Friends, from ’80 and ’81, still highly regarded today (see live clip here). During her earlier period, she recorded at least two LPs for Toshiba. Our favorite song from that era is the B-side of her first 7″, called “Hanabira No Namida.” LISTEN
Ouyang Fei Fei
Fei Fei was a Taiwanese-Japanese singer who started her career in 1971 with a hit on Toshiba, “Ame No Midōsuji.” From there, she had continued chart success for several years, easily transitioning into the disco scene in 1978-79. We’ve only heard one of her Toshiba LPs, which is half- Japanese/half-English, containing covers of Karen Carpenter’s “Superstar” and Carole King’s “You’ve Got A Friend.” Our select pick that we are uploading is the A-side of her second 45, the torrential tarmac drama “Ame No Eapōto” (Rain Airport). LISTEN
Garland Encyclopedia of World Music. “Twentieth-Century Popular Music in Japan.” Written by Mitsui, Tôru; edited by Robert C. Provine, Yosihiko Tokumaru and J. Lawrence Witzleben. Routledge, 2001.
Sayonara Amerika, Sayonara Nippon: A Geopolitical Prehistory of J-Pop. Michael Bourdaghs. Columbia University Press, 2012.
Tokyo Boogie-Woogie: Japan’s Pop Era and Its Discontents. Hiromu Nagahara. Harvard University Press, 2017.
There will always be a region of the music world for which any concession to visual flair is considered anathema, where Vans and sensible jeans are the rule. Y’all do y’all, but Sparks will have no truck in that neck of the woods. Ron and Russell Mael — the two weirdo brothers that are group’s only consistent members — are excellent musicians and caustically funny lyricists whose best work spans prog, disco, and post-everything alien pop, but their visual presentation has always been just as integral to the overall package.
Just look back at any video of Sparks in their early days, and you’ll see what I mean. The first thing most people notice, of course, is Ron at the keyboard, staring down the camera, looking like a cross between Hitler and Dick Dastardly. If you can take your eyes off Ron and move ’em a little more towards center stage, you’ll find Russell flouncing about, a Freddie Mercury for dudes with really strong opinions about John Irving novels and BBC serials. Roxy Music and 10cc were working in roughly the same whip-smart, high-camp field, but really, nobody is quite like Sparks.
Moreover, Sparks handily beat their peers in the department of fully realized, hilarious music videos. It’s easy, and encouraged, to spend a day going down a Sparks wormhole on Youtube: with 40+ years of music videos under their belt, there’s plenty to see! In case you’ve got errands to run today, though, I’ve gone ahead and thrown together some personal favorites to get you on your way. This is by no means a deep dive — Mael aficionados, save your snide comments for some fellow nerd who cares — but it should be a good place to start for the uninitiated.
This Town Ain’t Big Enough For Both of Us Kimono My House, 1974
Sparks weren’t the first band to make promo videos, but their early efforts definitely seemed to grasp the potential of the format a little more fully than most. This isn’t their funniest or most elaborate video, but they were certainly onto something. It doesn’t hurt that this song, their first big UK hit, is among the finer tracks of their early, frenetic art-rock period.
The Number One Song In Heaven No. 1 in Heaven, 1979
For this all-killer-no-filler LP, the Maels hooked up with electro-disco mastermind Giorgio Moroder to create an album of soaring, plasticine dancefloor burners. It’s a radical departure from their previous records, but as you can see here, they took to the form like fish to water.
When I’m With You Terminal Jive, 1980
This song was a massive hit in France, but didn’t do much stateside. A damn shame, that, since it’s still futuristic, funny, and even a little touching (despite its best efforts to avoid as much). The video, like pretty much all their videos, is both goofy and ahead of the curve.
Cool Places In Outer Space, 1983
Sparks at their most Devo-esque and “new wave”. They even recruited a new wave superstar, Jane Wiedlin of the Go-Gos, to join in on the fun! If not their most caustically funny song, it is among their more bonkers videos, a fluorescent ’80s funhouse that feels like the missing link between Salvador Dali and Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Say, is that Divine in the background?
All You Ever Think About Is Sex In Outer Space, 1983
Sorry to double-dip from one album, but this probably is the golden age of Sparks videos. Here are our boys in full synth-pop sleaze mode, competing for their share of the pie with some of their biggest fans (Soft Cell, Human League, etc.). It may’ve been to their commercial detriment that they refused to take the enterprise seriously, literally taking the aforementioned pie in the face like a buncha clowns, but it’s a joy to observe.
The Final Derriere The Forbidden Room, 2015
Yes, Sparks fans, I’m well aware that I just skipped over about three decades of worthy work to get to this recent nugget. Please don’t read this as a slight: there’s a ton of great work in between, and deep dives into any section of the Sparks catalog are always encouraged. Nonetheless, brevity is the soul of wit, and it is doubly the soul of listicles.
Anyhow: this isn’t exactly a music video, but a section of The Forbidden Room, a 2015 omnibus film the mad-genius Manitoban filmmaker Guy Maddin directed in collaboration with Evan Johnson. The Sparks section, perhaps the centerpiece of the movie, tells the story of a man, played by Udo Kier(!), who… well, you’ll figure it out. Those Maels have still got it!
At the beginning of this year, Maximum Rocknroll announced that their print publication would be ending its 37 year run. The May issue would be its last. When the news broke, many readers of MRR, from the infrequent to the avid, were upset with the magazine’s announcement. MRR was a mainstay of the independent punk scene, and had endured the many ups and downs of punk’s history. MRR had survived the death of its founder Tim Yohannon, punk breaking into the mainstream, the rise of the internet and the many, many times punk was declared dead. MRR was loved, hated, and more often than not treated with indifference because it was just assumed that Maximum Rocknroll would always be around.
I hadn’t read MRR in almost 20 years, but was still sad about the news. I spent many nights as a teen reading the magazine and it had a significant impact on my development. I was 13 when I first starting reading MRR. My parents were divorced and I was left alone a lot. I had gotten into punk through my older brother, and when he went out to party with his friends and go to shows, I would look through his things. I listened to his records and started reading the punk publications he had lying around. MRR being one of them. While avidly listening to my brother Mike’s music collection left a very obvious impression on me, I had never considered MRR’s influence until I made a point to pick up a copy of the February issue after hearing of the magazine’s end.
While the act of picking up and reading an issue of MRR was swathed in nostalgia, actually sitting down and ingesting its contents was something else entirely.
I was immediately transported back to my teen years, vividly recalling what it was like to read MRR alone in my room, late at night. Being an impressionable teen, I accepted the magazine’s content without question. Only revisiting MRR did I comprehend how much the zine in opposition to and challenged anything mainstream society offered. Although the columnists had changed and the zine was structured differently (what happened to the letters section?), everything I remembered about the zine was there for me to read. I had forgotten just how radical, informative and entertaining the magazine was. Even in an age where information is readily at one’s fingertips, reading MRR was truly an educational experience that offered information I wasn’t aware of (I read a column about diy stimulant substitution therapy!).
As I poured over my copy of MRR, I was also reminded of my love of print, especially zines. It takes a lot of time and effort to write a column, interview, or record review. The writers of MRR always struck me as being deeply invested in their work, which was more palpable when you realized they were only volunteers. Having a target audience didn’t hurt MRR either. If someone wanted to write a column comparing the quality of punk in the Trump era to that of the first Bush era, a writer didn’t need much, if any exposition to set that up.
While MRR always championed the outsider and was extremely progressive in it’s acceptance of politics, lgbtq issues, women’s rights and feminism, MRR still had it’s faults. For most of the zine’s history, it’s content was centered around white, cis, hetero males. In the past few years, though, MRR rose to the challenge of diversifying it’s content, and brought in new contributors to stay relevant to the changing punk & diy community. MRR began featuring more POC fronted bands, let go of some problematic columnists and contributors, striving to make the zine more appealing to a diverse readership. These changes just weren’t enough to keep the magazine going, though.
Ultimately, I think the greatest thing about MRR was how accessible everything in the magazine was. I hadn’t read MRR in over 20 years but still knew the bands that were mentioned or interviewed. I had either seen them when they came to town or played them on my record show. When i got the chance to peruse some old issues of MRR at the Independent Publishing Resource Center, I saw record reviews of bands from my hometown and bands that stopped to play a show while on tour. What surprised me the most about MRR was how it very accurately encapsulated exactly what was happening in the world of diy punk, both then and now.
MRR has always showed how tangible punk was. And still is. That was always the key to it’s longevity and infamy. It’s reaffirming to see the scene reflected back to you. Your scene reflected back to you. And that may be the hardest thing to let go when the magazine ends. But everything ends, and at least we got to enjoy it while it was here. Thanks for everything MRR. We didn’t know what we had until it was gone.
The last issue of MRR is available at your local newsstand and record store. You can also pick up a copy at maximumrocknroll.com
DJ Going Places is a Navajo punk living in Portland, Oregon. They make zines, sometimes attend shows, and volunteer at the IPRC. Catch their radio show, “Femmes, POC & Queers To The Front” every other Thursdays from 10pm-12am. They play punk, post punk and experimental music by femmes, POC and Queer musicians.
It does not happen as often as it used to, but I am sometimes still met with a quizzical face, when I mention that Echo & The Bunnymen are one of my favorite bands. I find this odd, as the band has been a going concern since 1978, recording and releasing albums, growing ever more popular with each release. Their U.S. popularity hit its height with songs such as “The Killing Moon”, “Bring on the Dancing Horses” & “Lips Like Sugar,” all of which have been featured in television shows and feature films.
In my opinion, one of the main reasons for their success is the unique guitar playing of Will Sergeant. He is the only original member to have remained a constant in the band; they would not be the same, were it not for his signature sound. Admittedly self taught, his playing avoids all number of rock cliches, in favor of melodic lines that mimic the singing or an aural soundscape that lays the bedrock, on which the other members of the band can build, or short jarring repeated hooks, bathed in reverb for maximum effect.
The influence on Sergeant’s guitar style can, in many ways, be traced back to his music collection. He is well known as a record collector and has been purchasing records since he was a young man of 10 or 11. He has spoken in interviews of making early purchases of records by The Beatles & The Rolling Stones, as well as a double record collection of The Velvet Underground & Nico, which he says he purchased for the cover, an Andy Warhol image involving a Coca-Cola bottle. Various Sixties psychedelic and garage rock records, and also the debut albums by Roxy Music & Television, were also certainly staples in his collection, and can be heard in his guitar style.
Despite Sergeant’s high profile as a guitar player and composer in a unique Neo-Psychedelic Post-punk band, few people know of his solo recording and many side projects. Most of the solo work has been electronic, very different from his work in Echo & The Bunnymen.
Sergeant’s first solo work was entitled “Weird as Fish,” a collection of instrumental pieces recorded at home. Drum machine, keyboards and heavily-affected single string guitar work outs abound. Each piece is very minimal and repetitive. This was originally recorded onto seven cassettes, each with their own mix, and given away to friends. It was released to the world at large in 2003, when a copy of one of the cassettes turned up.
Sergeant’s next two projects were film soundtracks: “La Via Luonge” and “Themes for ‘Grind’“. Recorded and released in 1982, “Themes for ‘Grind’“, consists of ten untitled pieces of dark, atmospheric, cascading music, invoking empty streets, abandoned industrial spaces, and a sense of movement or travel. This album was reissued in 1995 on CD, and the track “Favourite Branches” was added to it, which was originally released on a 12 inch single, the main side featuring “Himalaya” by Shankar & Bill Lovelady.
While these pieces were being released, Echo & The Bunnymen continued on, gradually becoming more popular, putting out their most well-received album to-date in 1984, “Ocean Rain.” Instead of going back to the studio, after the tour for that album, the band decided to take a one year sabbatical. In doing so, they stepped off the treadmill, an unusual step for a band of their stature — one that would prove to be a mistake, I believe. Had they stuck with it, building on their momentum, they may well have next recorded a masterpiece. Instead, we got a solo 12 inch single by Ian McCulloch, the singer, and nothing by the other members of the band. The sabbatical ended after only about six months, with the band returning to touring, their set heavily peppered with cover versions of songs by The Modern Lovers, The Doors, The Action, Television, Talking Heads, and The Velvet Underground. By the time they made it back to the studio, the grind of being in a band had set in, and they released what is my least favorite of their albums, a self titled album featuring the single “Lips Like Sugar”.
Not long after, Ian McCulloch left the band. The rest of the group stuck together, brought in a new singer, and released a few singles and one album. In retrospect, these releases are quite good, and might have found more favor with the public had the band re-named themselves instead of sticking to the name, Echo & The Bunnymen. The band eventually broke up in 1992.
I have no idea what Will Sergeant got up to in the next couple of years, but he re-surfaced in 1994 and 1995 in a new band, Electrafixion, along with Ian McCulloch. The band was louder and more of an out and out Rock band than Echo & The Bunnymen had been, and it was wonderful to hear Will Sergeant playing roaring loud hard-hitting guitar, stemming from his youthful love of late sixties acid rock & The Stooges.
As the band progressed, playing shows after the release of their album “Burned,” more and more Echo & The Bunnymen songs crept into their set — until the point that Electrafixion ended, and Echo & The Bunnymen re-formed.
1997, around the same time as the reformation, Will Sergeant released an album entitled “Space Age Freakout (Live at the Bubblebath Liverpool),” under the name Glide. This was an atmospheric, chilled-out collection of electronic pieces with minimal beats and vocal samples, many of which probably come from various science fiction films.
In 2000, an album by Glide entitled “Performance” was released, which was a live recording from 1999.
Glide often opened for Echo & The Bunnymen, and I was lucky to have seen just one such performance in Portland at the Aladdin Theatre.
Will Sergeant continued to release albums under the name Glide. In 2004, he released “Curvature of the Earth”, on which he plays all of the instruments. The album is much more centered around guitar, rather than electronic music, as had been prior Glide albums. And in 2013, he released “Assemblage One & Two,” two long electronic pieces. The piece, “Assemblage One,” can be heard on my radio show each week, as the music, over which I speak during all of my mic breaks.
Sometime around 2010, Will Sergeant began to appear around Liverpool, playing records from his collection. Initially calling the night “Korova”, the name was later changed to “Friction”. These nights would be filled with Sixties psych and garage rock, as well as Krautrock, Northern Soul, Electro & Prog. In addition to vintage records, contemporary records by The Black Angels, Wooden Shjips, and The Brian Jonestown Massacre might also have been played.
The DJ nights no doubt led to his current Mixcloud, “Spacejunk Radio,” on which he plays records from his collection along with some commentary; a unique and wonderful view behind the curtain to what makes Will Will.
Also around 2010, Will Sergeant began to exhibit some of his artwork, abstract pieces with vibrant color and motion, despite the fixed moment captured in the paint. Examples of Sergeant’s artwork can be seen on his web site.
In 2012, Sergeant released one of my favorite records he has ever produced: an album of all acoustic instruments, entitled “Things Inside”. This is a gorgeous collection of acoustic guitar, with subtle psychedelic effects, enhanced by percussion and keyboards. Here is a link to one of my most well liked tracks from the album, “Toy Piano Mantra:”
He followed up this acoustic foray with a return to rock, in the form of extended prog rock instrumental music, under the name Poltergeist. For this project, he reunited with Les Pattison, who had been the bass player and one of the founding members of Echo & The Bunnymen. The music on the album, entitled “Your Mind is a Box (Let us fill it with wonder)” is cinematic and flowing, each piece filled with heavy psychedelic guitar lines, melodic bass and drums. Thus far, this is a one-off project, but should not be written off, as it shows Will Sergeant as a singular talent.
It has been a few years now, since Sergeant has released a solo or side project, but his work with the band, Echo & The Bunnymen, continues; they have recently released an album, on which they re-recorded some of their classic tracks “ The Stars, The Oceans & The Moon,” with the promise of an album of all-new material promised to be recorded in the upcoming year.
Hopefully, Will Sergeant will find a time and place in his schedule to concentrate on his solo work as well, as his past releases have given me and those of us who discovered them so much joy.
Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes (2018) is a documentary directed by Swedish filmmaker Sophie Huber telling the story of the legendary Blue Note jazz label from their humble beginnings to present. Huber’s film documents the ambition and inclusion of Blue Note through its German Jewish immigrant founders, Alfred Lion and Francis Wolff, who started Blue Note in New York, in 1939. Blue Note began as an independent jazz label in an era where xenophobia and racism were social norms. The Blue Note story is paramount because it highlights the collaborative relationships between German Jewish immigrants and African American musicians. The film features interviews with legendary jazz musicians, Herbie Hancock, Lou Donaldson and Wayne Shorter plus commentary with contemporary jazz artists, Robert Glasper, Ambrose Akinmusire and Norah Jones. The film also features rare archival footage with John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk and Miles Davis and newer recording sessions contrasting the intersectionalities and positionalities between jazz and hip hop with interviews including Ali Shaheed Muhammad (A Tribe Called Quest) and Terrace Martin (hip hop producer). Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes is Huber’s second documentary after her debut and critically acclaimed first documentary, Harry Dean Stanton: Partly Fiction (2012).
The history of Blue Note Records spans over eight decades and a catalogue of over a thousand records. Blue Note has supported jazz genres including Hot Jazz, Boogie Woogie and Swing, Bebop, Hard Bop, Post Bop, Avant Garde, Soul Jazz and Fusion. Huber states, “The Blue Note story is about people who followed their passion and – against all odds – built a lasting platform for a music they loved, a music that was cathartic for them, that represents freedom to German Jewish immigrants and to African American musicians” (2018). Lion and Wolff’s Blue Note philosophy is still applicable today. Don Was, producer and bass player from Was (Not Was), is now Blue Note’s president who works with the new generation, plus living jazz legends who record on Blue Note. Alfred Lion originally described Blue Note music as, “Any particular style of playing which represents an authentic way of musical feeling is genuine expression” (https://bluenoterecords-film.com/en/).
The Blue Note label has now crossed over to meld jazz, R&B and hip hop. Blue Note records have been sampled by countless hip hop/rap legends such as Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Dr. Dre, Tupac and Beastie Boys; plus today’s artists such as J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar and Kanye West. Blue Note records and jazz music are part of the evolution of hip hop and rap. Both jazz and hip hop/rap genres are born from African American historical and social culture in the U.S. Jazz origins began in New Orleans within the Creole and European traditions, encompassing military music with ragtime, and the blues. African slave descendents created jazz music to cope with racial abuse from colonialist white society. African slave descendents from the ghettos of New York created hip hop and rap to cope with systemic racial abuse, gang violence and social inequities stemming from inequities passed down generationally by colonialist white society.
Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes contrasted powerful imagery between jazz and hip hop/rap. Huber’s juxtaposed scenes documenting jazz legendary artist John Coltrane who was influenced by living in the civil rights era; using his masterpiece song “Alabama”, Huber showed images from lunch counter protests, law enforcement spraying African American protesters with fire hoses, beatings and lynching, which reflects current discourse on systematic racist violence still being perpetrated upon black people and legitimized through institutionalized colonialist white societal standards. Huber contrasted images from protests of police killings and the Black Lives Matter movement. The sounds on Blue Note jazz records were embedded into the creative minds of many. Ali Shaheed Muhammad from A Tribe Called Quest connected the empowerment of hip hop with the U.S. government’s elimination of funding for afterschool music programs, which forced them to use records and turntables as instruments.
Huber’s film also features eye candy glimpses into Wolff’s photo archives with rare shots from the Blue Note archive contact prints, plus commentary highlighting Reid Miles’ cover art which contributed to the label’s signature success. Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes provides a human perspective into the relationships and music that inspired the Blue Note label. It is an insightful and extraordinary film that honestly documents the evolution of the historic Blue Note record label.
