One Man Band – Memphis Flyer

New Memphis Colorways: Fueled by Fusion

“Jazz” is a big word, and can cover so many approaches to music that it may have lost all its descriptive power. That is especially true if one follows the music’s history into the 1970s and beyond. After traditional forms were blown wide open in the 1960s (with the ascendance of free jazz), the music’s influences and reference points became so far-flung that any noise, texture, or groove was fair game.

Anything being fair game is a good motto for the latest album by New Memphis Colorways, It is What it Isn’t, set to be self-released on May 21st. As the catch-all name for the various musical projects of virtuoso Paul Taylor, New Memphis Colorways has always considered the world fair game, of course, ranging from tightly woven power pop of The Music Stands to the stomping, almost surfing groove rock of Old Forest Loop.

Most of those earlier projects showed off Taylor’s inventiveness with a dollop of genre-appropriate restraint, his self-accompaniment on multiple instruments always in service of the song. But what restraints are in play when the song is jazz-funk fusion? Those are mostly the restraints demanded by each song’s groove, even as solo instruments take unfettered flight. Yea verily, this is the album where Taylor lets his freak flag fly high.

Imagining some of Herbie Hancock’s finest work from the late 70s or 80s, from Man-Child to Future Shock, will put you in the ballpark. It’s not that none of the players (all Taylor, in this case) show restraint; an effective groove requires that sense of space. It’s rather that the direction of the melodies, instrumentation, and breakdowns could surprise you with any new development at any time.

And that’s exactly what awaits listeners of It is What it Isn’t. Just take the lead single and video, “Hangover Funk.”

Video game skronks give way to the solidest of grooves, backing up some smooth/tweaked keyboard chords. Is this Herbie Hancock or George Clinton? Or Pac Man, perhaps? None of the above: this is New Memphis Colorways.

It’s first-rate funk (and excellent party music, by the way), all the better to undergird a full-on rock guitar solo that screams “good times,” which anything evoking the 1970s surely must. As the opening track of the album, it’s perfect, and sets the tone for much of what is to follow. But, having set the inventiveness bar so high from the top, what follows is essentially more funky unpredictability and more expressive synth and guitar playing.

One surprise, even in this cornucopia of surprises, is Taylor’s treatment of the jazz standard, “All the Things You Are.” It’s played with a jazzer’s sensitivity to the delicate harmonies, but what really sets it apart is the singing voice run through a vocoder. It’s as if Laurie Anderson’s “O Superman” suddenly fell in love. And in combining the sci-fi iciness of a synthetic vocoder with such a chestnut of the 1930s, an eerie, Blade Runner-esque world is conjured up, perfect for our current moment in history. It’s that restless inventiveness that keeps this from being a retro fashion accessory, and propels it into a fusion work of the highest order.

Most Memphians know James Godwin by his first name, as in James & the Ultrasounds. (Full disclosure: I was an Ultrasound from 2017-2019). He was a good front man for that now-retired combo, in all its permutations, with his movie star looks and the voice of a fur trapper. He sang like he was shouting from the mountaintops, and that served him well when backed by the powerhouse band that originally included skin-slammer John Argroves, later replaced by Star & Micey’s Jeremy Stanfill.

Now, having put the band in the deep freeze well before COVID-19, Godwin is unleashing his solo work on the world. His opening pitch is the five-song EP Hog Jowl, released just last week, and right out of the gate it’s clear that the Ultrasounds are absent.

This is a good thing. The end result is that this feels unmistakably like an artist with no expectations or limits. Certainly the Ultrasounds could indulge in a bit of sonic chaos, but rarely did it compare to the bewildering, distorted slide guitar that defines the title track, which is closer to, say, Sonic Youth when high on barbecue. Even as a musician, I was disoriented. And, in terms of thinking outside the box, that’s a good thing.

The title song still sports Godwin’s throaty drawl, ragged but right. But the key difference is that, unlike the Ultrasounds, this is all Godwin, all the time. Most one man band records (except, perhaps, for those by multi-instrumentalists like Stevie Wonder or New Memphis Colorways) must needs sacrifice some of the drive of a full band, and this is no exception. Godwin does a serviceable job on bass and drums, naturally, but the lack of push-and-pull, of different players vying for a position within the beat, means that there’s a certain wooziness to the proceedings.

James Godwin

That fits the material to a tee. The songs range from the unhinged slide guitar of the opener to the rockabilly/gospel shuffle of “Down to the Valley” to the funky jam “Beans for Breakfast.” Recorded at “the Rainbow Recording Lounge,” these all have a homespun charm that makes the musical content as unpredictable as stone soup, made with whatever leftovers happen to be in Godwin’s fridge.

Nothing is as unpredictable as the very un-Ultrasounds-sounding closer, “Only I Know.” As an acoustic guitar lazily strums airy chords, Godwin’s voice exposes his tender side more than ever before. The shambolic musical reverie is a refreshing turn, spotlighting his most intimate lyrics to date. In all, as the song says, “it feels like it should.” Quarantine or no, this new approach gives free rein to Godwin’s imagination and promises many new surprises to come.