Happy Halloween!

For those of you who survived the disco days and early funk of the 70’s you would remember Con Funk Shun. They were best known for their R&B hits “Chase Me” and "Ffun," but in 1985 they released “Electric Lady.” It was a song and album unlike anything else they had recorded.

At a time in the music business when Hip-Hop was considered talentless and shoved aside to overnight weekend radio, “Electric Lady” was one of few R&B hits that featured rapping. This was largely due to the production sensibilities of Larry Smith. Not only was Smith known for his work with Run–D.M.C. and Whodini, but he also co-wrote and played bass on one of the first commercially successful rap singles, Kurtis Blow’s “The Breaks.” 
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Underneath the synthesized production and storytelling rapping, “Electric Lady” is a cheeky and endearing love song, with lyrics that should make you beep three times in satisfaction. 

When I was a child, ELO was simply the band behind the soundtrack for the Gyrosphere, an amusement park ride once found at the historic Seabreeze Amusement Park. “Fire on High” echoed while we were spun around in dramatic glory. It was a song that fit perfectly into the bell bottoms and short shorts that walked through that turnstile.

As I grew older my appreciation for ELO, The Move, and Jeff Lynn took on a larger context especially when I received “Yours Truly, 2095” on a mixtape from my now wife. It was her response to a song I sent her, and next week’s SOTW…
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Time is an album that gets lost among some of ELO’s greatest releases and singles, yet in today’s ever changing musical landscape and plethora of retro Synthpop sounding bands, this song could easily be released today. 

Initially known as a harmonica playing sideman for Muddy Waters and Chess Records, Marion “Little Walter” Jacobs would go on to be Chess and subsidiary Checker Records’ Marquee Artist, outselling Waters and fellow label mate Howlin' Wolf (Chester Burnett) with a string of singles that included “Juke," “Sad Hours,” and most notably Willie Dixon’s “My Babe.”

Originally released in 1955 as a 78 rpm, this song most likely featured Luther Tucker, Robert Lockwood and Odie Payne, because Fred Below and brothers Louis and David Myers had stopped recording with Walter at this point. Regardless of who sat in that day, each one of those musicians was worth their weight in gold and laid down the right feel.
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Little Walter was as raw and honest as you could get and this song not only showcases some of his brilliant harp work, but the pain and violent temper that he lugged around with him until his death in 1968. 

In the early to mid-80’s on Friday or Saturday nights WDKX DJ Kid Flash would spin the “Freshest” tracks, and like RUN DMC’s “Sucker Mc’s” three years before it, this song blew me away. The tempo was spot on, no beats were like it (especially at 2:57) and the pitched, delayed, distorted sample of The Magic Disco Machine’s “Scratchin'” was like nothing I had ever heard before.
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At the time I didn’t know what Mc. Shan was talking about, or what it meant to the history of hip hop but every weekend, way past my bedtime, my head was pressed firmly against my boom box listening to music that would influence the next generation.