Tag: Electraphonic Recording

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Howard Grimes on His New Book and Bulldogging the Beat

Howard Grimes (Photo: courtesy of Nick Loss-Eaton Media)

When I walk into Electraphonic Recording to meet Howard Grimes, I hear him before I see him. He’s behind the drum kit, recreating a beat he used to do when he backed a doo-wop group, the Largos, at Currie’s Club Tropicana. He’s laughing at the memory as he plays the shuffle he’d start when Roosevelt Green did his comedy bit. “He would pantomime this whole scheme, and it was all based on the rhythm I was playing. Boom-chick, boom-chick. The funniest part was when he got in his car, and he’d slam the door and I’d catch him — it was tight, man! — then he’d crank the car up, and you’d see him still moving and dancing inside as he drove away.”

Club Tropicana is fresh on my mind, as I’ve just read Grimes’ new autobiography, Timekeeper: My Life in Rhythm (Devault Graves Books), written with Preston Lauterbach. Yet having it spring to life with his actual playing and stories from his youngest days feels like some kind of miracle. It makes one grateful to be around when legends like Grimes still walk the earth.

Reading the book, to its credit, is very much like hearing stories from the great man himself. Only the beats are missing, though you can listen along to the accompanying “Howard Grimes ‘Timekeeper’ Playlist” on Spotify. It presents hit after hit that Grimes played drums on, from Rufus and Carla Thomas’ “Cause I Love You,” a significant early single on Satellite Records (before it became Stax), to Willie Mitchell’s “Soul Serenade” from 1968, to the silky funk of Al Green’s greatest chart-toppers. Few figures span the transition from early ’60s R&B to the smooth, funky soul of the ’70s with such aplomb, but hearing the span of his work on the playlist as you read, a direct connection between the herky-jerky “Frog Stomp” and the smoldering “Love and Happiness” becomes apparent: a relentless, driving rhythm.

That driving, steady quality led Willie Mitchell to call him “Bulldog.” As Grimes recalls, “Willie Mitchell told me, ‘You know, Howard, when you play, I can hear you coming.’ I didn’t know what he was talking about. But when I cut a track, he said, ‘I can hear you coming. That foot!’ Willie was very distinct on listening to musicians. That’s how I learned so much.” The nickname has stuck to this day with variations. “Teenie [Hodges] always called me Pup. ‘Hey Pup, what ya doing, Pup?’ Leroy [Hodges] called me Dog. When I cut a session, Willie would always go, ‘Hey Dog! There’s the Dog! Here he comes!’”

Speaking of the many iconic tracks he laid down with the Hodges brothers and Mitchell, I can’t resist asking Grimes about one beat in particular, so distinctive as to have been subsequently sampled on nearly 200 tracks, from The Notorious B.I.G. to Massive Attack: the introduction to Al Green’s “I’m Glad You’re Mine.”

“Well, I love Ernie K-Doe and Lee Dorsey. So Lee Dorsey had this record out, ‘Working in the Coal Mine.’ The day ‘I’m Glad You’re Mine’ came up, I couldn’t hear nothing but that ‘Working in the Coal Mine’ pattern! So something guided me to play the first four bars of that because I knew it would fit with the way we had worked up the song. When we put the song together and we cut it, [Willie] said, ‘Man, you crazy as hell! Drummers ain’t never gonna figure out what the hell you did! Where in the hell did you come up with that?’ So I told him, and he said, ‘You just as crazy as Earl Palmer. You all is tit for tat.’”

Some rhythms that Grimes put on wax years ago mystify even him. “I cut a song on Ivory Joe Hunter, called ‘This Kind of Woman,’” he relates. “There’s no cymbals, just bongo drums and rhythm, and I don’t know what I did! It’s a difficult song, man, and I’ll be playing it now every day, trying to figure it out, could I ever bring that back? I haven’t figured it out yet.”

Howard Grimes and Preston Lauterbach will appear at the Stax Museum of American Soul Music, Live from Studio A, on Wednesday, July 21, 7 p.m. Live attendance is at capacity, but viewing by Zoom is offered at this link. The Bo-Keys will also perform with Grimes and singer Percy Wiggins. Free.

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Music Record Reviews

Richard Wilson’s Moody Classicism Delivers Sparse Soul-Jazz Songcraft

Richard Wilson grew up in the U.K. and began writing songs in the new wave era, but you wouldn’t guess it from the records he makes now. Wilson resettled in Memphis many years ago, and, as noted on his website, the city “permeates his work.” He states further, “This great city definitely helps my creativity,” and it shows. But his songs don’t necessarily deliver all the cookie-cutter elements of stomping soul beats with horns, or even rockabilly, for that matter. Rather, Wilson naturally and organically fuses a jazz sensibility with a subtle blues influence to create sparse, soulful songs that could have been crafted in the ’50s.

Over his four albums to date, one constant is the sound of his “old pine Fender Telecaster [through] a reverb drenched Fender Blues Junior tube amp,” and this year’s EP, Rain in My Soul (Galaxy Tracks), may be his best yet, precisely because it’s focused on that sound. Five out of six songs here feature only his singing and playing. And while his jazz influences don’t lead to much soloing here, a deep sense of blues and jazz traditions informs every chord change and vocal nuance. It doesn’t hurt that it was recorded onto tape at Electraphonic Recording, with strong vintage vibes. The simple, sparse approach suits the material well, which leans toward the moody side.

Right off the bat, “Not For You” seems to lament all the world with a few deft lyrical touches, and the centrality of his Telecaster elevates it above the sonic palette of your typical singer/songwriter’s acoustic strumming. The other tracks follow suit. What really puts the songs across is Wilson’s unaffected singing, a natural, mellow baritone/tenor that evokes, as he says, Bobby Darin (without the belting) or, to these ears, the smoky cool croon of Georgie Fame.

Only on track three, “Online Mainline,” does the bare emotion of voice and guitar blossom into a full band arrangement, with Paul Taylor on drums and Pat Fusco on Hammond joining in. The trio’s funky swing is quite in keeping with the moody solo tracks. And its lyrics, evoking our junkie-like addiction to internet stimulation, keep the vibe consistent: a bit on the dark side, sprinkled with a wry sense of humor.

It’s his best work yet, not least because it suits our current lives in quarantine so well. These days, we’re largely confined to the intimate echoes of our own homes, mulling over the state of the world and troubled relationships. There’s a catharsis in hearing Wilson express it so starkly.   

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Music Record Reviews

Don Bryant’s You Make Me Feel is an Instant Classic

In recent years, the appeal of classic sounds from the the ’60s and ’70s has grown and grown, leaving many wondering if such retro stylistic moves are mere trend-hopping, simply another attempt to create a flavor of the month. And yet, there’s a certain rightness to the sound, an undeniable frisson when you listen to a contemporary act capture the sound and feel of that era, as if synth-pop and Pro Tools had never happened. As it turns out, this may all be because the records of that era were simply, objectively better. In an interview with Tape Op, Gabriel Roth, co-owner of the retro soul label Daptone Records, puts it like this:

I started making records because I was listening to old records and they sounded great. It’s not really an agenda or an angle as much as it is just kind of being honest with ourselves. In articles, people say, “Aren’t you just doing something that’s been done before?” or “Isn’t this some kind of retro fad?” First, we’re not making enough money for it to be called a fad, that’s for sure. We’re just trying to be tasteful and try to make the kind of records that sound good and feel good. If they sound old, that’s great — I dig old records … the truth is we dig old records, so we’re going to try to make old records.

Daptone is based in Brooklyn, but it turns out that the same philosophy holds true in another epicenter for classic soul and funk sounds: Memphis. It shouldn’t come as a great surprise, given the longevity of many legendary studios here. Some of them, like Royal Studios, still have the same gear used to make those classic sounds in the first place. Others, like Scott Bomar’s Electraphonic Recording, take pages out of the Royal playbook and stick to the same methods. 

Beyond that, one needs players who are sensitive to the classic sounds and textures and, most of all, an artist capable of delivering performances with all the soul, integrity, warmth and outright heat that was more typical in the days before sequencing and cut-and-paste production.

And all those elements come together seamlessly in Don Bryant’s latest album, You Make Me Feel (Fat Possum). It’s not surprising, given that Bryant, after a brief foray as a solo artist, was a house songwriter for Willie Mitchell’s Hi Records, eventually marrying Ann Peebles, who made his “I Can’t Stand the Rain” famous. He carried on behind the scenes for decades, until his second solo album, Don’t Give Up On Love, was released in 2017. That album, like the latest, was produced by Bomar, pairing Bryant with Bomar’s crack soul band, the Bo-Keys. It was such a powerful return to form, with all of the classic ingredients, that one might consider it Bryant’s 21st century comeback. Now, with the same team in place for a second album, we see that Bryant, now nearing his 80th year, is not slacking his pace or his taste in the least.

The album kicks off with a classic horn-driven intro conveying the majesty of a blues-based riff in a soul context, before laying down a very ’70s groove that can’t be denied. Then, track two reveals Bryant’s take on a song (that he wrote) made popular by his wife back in the day, “99 Pounds.” Also sporting some powerful horn riffs, this one captures the classic Royal sound, with the same driving Howard “Bulldog” Grimes beat that made Hi a beacon of soul back in the day.

From there, we hear plenty of mood swings, all delivered with an aching, heartfelt panache  that few singers can pull of these days. For Bryant, it seems it’s second nature. And, as tracks evoking various emotions go by, we are reminded of how eclectic Bryant’s career was even before the mid ’70s. Some tracks here, like “Your Love is Too Late” or “Cracked Up Over You,” evoke more of a ’60s soul sound, with the latter sporting echoes of the old Satellite Records (pre-Stax) track by Prince Conley, “I’m Going Home.” It’s an earlier take on R&B than the classic Ann Peebles-type, funk-infused grooves, but Bryant, who was singing and recording from the 1950s onward, can carry both with equal aplomb.

Interspersed along the way are some moving ballads, which, given the homespun strength of Bryant’s voice, may be his strong suit. (Though, to be fair, he can howl on the uptempo tracks with a unique urgency). The standout here may be “Don’t Turn Your Back on Me,” which begins with only solo guitar and Bryant’s vocals. From there, it adds layers of sound and emotion as the band falls in.

Both the ballads and the groovy numbers have one crucial element: air. The sound of a band playing mostly live in a room just may be the key to that “old record” sound. And it only makes it better when it’s a room in Memphis, where one of soul’s great architects is pouring his soul into every note. 

Don Bryant’s You Make Me Feel is an Instant Classic

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Music Record Reviews

James & the Ultrasounds: None of the Above and Then Some

“I never cared for the typical; I kind of like being difficult,” sings James Godwin of James and the Ultrasounds on “None of the Above,” the opening track of the new album of the same name. As a statement of ethos, it’s a fitting introduction to an album that won’t sit still long enough to be easily categorized. Still, the song kicks off the record with a flurry of electric guitars; there’s a hint of surf rock in the drums, a little bit of slap-back somewhere in the mix.

Godwin sounds soulful as hell and just shy of coming completely unwound. I can almost see his wide shirt collar and the sheen of sweat plastering hair to his forehead as David Johnson, the band’s gangly bassist, bops around onstage, feeling the bounce in the groove. The song sounds like rock-and-roll should, like it’s blasting out of a glowing jukebox in a crowded, smoky room, even though it’s just my computer and my headphones, played at a reasonable volume. It sounds like the same James and the Ultrasounds I’ve seen in at least half a dozen dives. But the Ultrasounds have done some growing, and as None of the Above keeps playing, it shows.

None of the Above, released by Madjack Records, is the Ultrasounds’ second full-length album, the follow-up to 2014’s excellent Bad to Be Here. Recorded at Electraphonic Recording and produced by Memphis songwriting and guitar-picking heavyweight John Paul Keith (whose Memphis Circa 3 a.m. is a personal favorite), None of the Above spools out a quick succession of tight tracks, seemingly effortlessly. There’s a definite swagger to the songs on the Ultrasounds’ newest release.

But added attitude isn’t the only difference. The band has undergone some lineup changes, with the departure of guitarist and backing vocalist Luke White. “I’m grateful for all of the musicians in my life,” Godwin says. “I’ve learned a lot from all of them.” To help flesh out the sound for the album, Godwin recruited Flyer music editor Alex Greene, a bandmate from a previous combo, to contribute organ and piano and some rhythm guitar. The organ riffs, plaintive and soul-drenched, would be right at home on a soul song cut over at Royal Studios. The instrument adds a layer to the Ultrasounds’ sound, especially on tracks like “Nowhere to Go” and “Drop the Act.”

None of the Above shows off a side of the Ultrasounds that’s sometimes eclipsed by the ferocity of their rock-and-roll cool. And the band is cool, cool as a Ramones movie or sweat on a bottle of beer, but they can be tender, too. At first glance, they’re all suit jackets and sunglasses at night, telecasters and stories of hard-partying Serbian concert promoters, but great performers know when to take off the shades and show a little vulnerability. James and the Ultrasounds’ second album slows down long enough to show off some Southern soul and old-school country that’s always been a part of the band’s musical make-up.

Godwin traces his tastes back to quiet moments in childhood, times when his grandmother would, if only for a little peace and quiet, tell him to sit still and just listen. “My earliest musical memories are sitting in my grandmother’s house when I was four or five. I would get into stuff, and she would tell me to sit there and be quiet and listen to her music,” Godwin remembers. “She was always playing Patsy Cline or Charlie Pride, always sad stuff. Day after day, I would hear it.

“The country influence has always been there,” Godwin says. “Touring with J.P. [Keith], we’d always listen to old country stuff in his van.” A veteran of a slew of Memphis bands, Godwin used to play bass for Keith. Bad to Be Here’s rollicking “Party Dracula” was inspired by a promoter Godwin met while on tour oversees with Keith’s bad. And perhaps some of the cohesion of None of the Above is a result of so many hours already spent together, a shared set of musical references. “John Paul told me one time ‘There’s one band in Memphis, and we’re all in it,’” Godwin laughs.

“I was his go-to bass player for a good handful of years. I’ve still to this day probably played more shows with him on stage than with anyone else,” says Godwin. “We’ve covered a lot of ground together, from Memphis to Serbia and everywhere in between.” Whatever the reason, there’s a confidence on display on None of the Above that hints at an easy connection between everyone involved. These songs are tight enough to make the listener suspect the musicians and producer shared a telepathic connection.

“I’ve got 27 different jobs, but I still don’t like my odds of getting my money back,” Godwin sings on “New Subtraction.” Drummer John Argroves’ tight tom work on and the doubled guitar lines during the song’s instrumental turnaround evoke a frantic energy that feels like being out of luck and out of gas on the baking asphalt of a Memphis street corner. “New Subtraction” is the Ultrasounds at their unrestrained best, but the band somehow manages to turn up the heat still more a little later in the record.

Keith brought in the award-winning Billy Gibson, aka the Mississippi Saxophone, to contribute his much-lauded harmonica skills to “Am I Crazy.” Gibson channels the mood of the song, ripping riffs from his harmonica that sound fearlessly deranged. Gibson’s wailing harmonica sits on a bed of bumping bass and crunchy guitars. There’s plenty on display here for any fans of Bad to Be Here’s reckless rock-and-roll energy. For all the added subtlety of the new record, the Ultrasounds still know how to crank up the amps and wake up the crowd. Now they just know how to do it with harmonica, too.

“Drop the Act” is a soulful, heart-wrenching song, with Godwin pleading for honesty over warbling organs in 6/8 time. A motif runs through the lyrics on None of the Above, and it’s on full display on this track. Lovers leave, lies are told, money is in short supply, and there are sleepless nights to spare. Tires go flat and need to be repaired. But if Godwin sounds like someone who knows how it feels to be locked out, shaken up, and shaken down, he seems to know when to laugh off his bad luck and when to shoot straight with the listener, to admit “I suppose that much of the blame is mine.” As a result, no matter how dark it gets on None of the Above, the problems never appear insurmountable, and Godwin never shades into the maudlin.

If Bad to Be Here is the Ultrasounds’ punk-tinged rock-and-roll record, then None of the Above is the band plunging deep into the country and soul that were rock’s first influences, its grandfathers. For all the instrumental energy on display, the band puts the 11 songs on None of the Above through their paces with cool grace, almost making it look easy. And the addition of organ adds a frequency to the Ultrasounds’ sonic spectrum, opening up new spaces for the band to explore. The result is a matured sound that feels like an evolution for a mainstay of the Memphis music scene.

James and the Ultrasounds play an album release show for None of the Above at Bar DKDC, Friday, August 24th, at 10 p.m.