Jackie Mittoo, Baby Huey, and great Sunday afternoon records

No.1401: Jackie Mittoo - The Keyboard King at Studio One

I bought a lot of reggae records between 2020 and 2023, which has slowed down considerably since. There’s still several on my Discogs wantlist, some of which are a little hard to come by, but I was on a mission at the time. That mission, though still open ended, can mostly be called successful. But this compilation from Jackie Mittoo, keyboardist of the Skatalites is a little different. It’s not roots reggae, it’s not dub, it’s not even really rocksteady, but more like a funk-soul album with rocksteady rhythms. Like if The Meters were Jamaican. It’s amazing, and it occurs to me that I need to find more records in this vein (I suppose The Skatalites would probably be a good place to start!).

When I bought this I remarked to my wife that it was a great Sunday afternoon record, and she said something along the lines of “aren’t a lot of our records?” Which got me thinking about whether or not I was starting to become one of those oldhead cool-dad types putting on classic soul records and making Old Fashioneds. Reader: I am. But I still listen to Pig Destroyer and Carly Rae Jepsen, so you know, it’s only part of the time. (I’m also not a dad, unless cats count.)

Seriously, this record just sounds fantastic at any time of day, at any volume, in any room. It’s reggae and it’s soul music. Not quite jazz, but it is instrumental and it’s at least at times jazz-adjacent. So basically it combines many of my interests. Ordinarily I’m not a Buy The Best Of guy, but Mittoo’s one of those artists whose studio albums aren’t really in print and pretty hard to find, so this excellent Soul Jazz Records comp does nicely. Pour yourself a whisky and enjoy. Rating: 9.2

Listen: “Black Organ”

No. 1402: Baby Huey - Living Legend: The Baby Huey Story

One of my favorite categories of musical discoveries is Songs You Know from a Sample. And I’d venture to guess that the vast majority of people my age or younger know Baby Huey because of “Buck 50,” by Ghostface Killah, which samples “Hard Times”. That weird trill guitar lick? Wild stuff, makes for great hip-hop. But it also makes for great soul music, however little of it Baby Huey recorded in his lifetime.

Born James Ramey, Baby Huey took his name from the giant cartoon duckling, which was his way of making light of his size (he weighed 350 pounds, the result of a glandular disorder). But man, could he sing. Throughout this compilation, a posthumous collection of his works, of which there’s not much (this is pretty much it), he wails his way through originals and covers, including a particularly anguished “A Change Is Gonna Come.” He was signed to Curtis Mayfield’s label, Curtom, and there’s a similar groove in his style of Chicago soul. Though on some of the material, he’s a dead ringer for King Khan (or vice versa, since Khan was born after Baby Huey died). This is pretty much his discography, but it cooks.

Baby Huey died at only 26 years old in 1970, of a drug-related heart attack. His death followed Janis Joplin’s by only a matter of weeks, and Jimi Hendrix’s by a little over a month, each of them close in age, making fall of 1970 one of the most tragic and cursed months in rock ‘n’ roll history. But the little music he managed to record is nothing less than incredible. Rating: 9.1

Listen: “Hard Times”

No. 1403: Flaming Lips - The Soft Bulletin

As I arrive upon this entry, the Flaming Lips are, yet again, being shaken up. Longtime member Stephen Drozd is no longer in the band, which comes after Michael Ivins’ exit in 2021, Kliph Scurlock being kicked out in 2014 and so on. Which leaves Wayne Coyne as the only original member after all this time, and he’s been sort of living a rock star cliche for a while now (with the disappointing late-career albums to show for it). I’m not going to go into everything, his personal life isn’t really any of my business, but it’s a little disheartening when a band, at least the core trio who’ve been there all along—the subject of documentaries!—end up fizzling in such an anticlimactic fashion. 

But look, this album is perfect. The Soft Bulletin is maybe the work of a younger, more idealistic, more romantic band, not the band they are today, but regardless that band made something special. The first time I heard “Race for the Prize,” I was kind of taken by surprise. Most of what I knew about the band was “She Don’t Use Jelly,” which I liked, but which still seemed kind of like a novelty. But then they deliver this beautiful, dreamy psych-record with synths that sound like strings. It’s heartbreaking, it’s beautiful, it’s like nothing I had ever heard up to that point. 

And you know? It still is. I don’t necessarily need these guys to be my friends or roommates or whatever—and there’s plenty of evidence of the Beatles being assholes at some point, and they’re still the fucking Beatles—so whatever animus between them, whatever midlife crisis they’re going through, they still made a beautiful record. I’ve said that several times already, but it’s true. My one gripe is that the vinyl version is missing the remixed version of “Waitin’ for a Superman,” with the more lush production sound. The sparser, primarily piano-driven version is still wonderful of course, but sometimes more is more! Rating: 10

Listen: “Waitin’ for a Superman”

No. 1404: Oneida - Each One Teach One

This is my third post about Oneida in only a couple months and at a certain point you start running out of ways to say “This is great, bonkers psych-rock!” This one is a little more bonkers than the previous two, though, in large part due to the presence of two side-long tracks that extend their acid-fried riffs to infinity. In particular “Sheets of Easter,” which is an exercise in repetition that becomes an out-of-body experience. I interviewed the group in 2022 and they told me about how it’s played a role in a lot of peoples’ lives: “I’ve had people talk to me about giving birth to it. About kicking habits to it,” Fat Bobby said. And Kid Millions said a friend of theirs helped calm his kid down during a tantrum by playing the song. Kind of wild that something so far-out has had such a big role in people’s lives. I think it’s amazing when music can do that.

But hey, there’s also some shorter songs on here that are some of my favorites, in particular the title track, which is a little closer to Brainiac than Ash Ra Tempel or … I don’t even know what the right comparison is. But whatever, it rocks. Rating: 8.9

Listen: “Each One Teach One”

No. 1405: Sparks - Kimono My House

Several years after my last entry on Sparks, I’ve got another one! I can, in large part, thank Edgar Wright’s documentary The Sparks Brothers for inspiring me to pick up Kimono My House, which was the first Sparks album I ever heard. While Number One in Heaven is still my favorite of theirs overall, this is a close second, one that’s more rock ‘n’ roll, more glam, more theatrical while still being kickass. 

It’s remarkable that the brothers Mael have made such an enduring career out of their idiosyncratic sound, and the documentary made clear that they’ve never been a runaway success—for every break there’s seemingly been a setback. But they’ve never stopped moving, never stopped evolving, never stopped being their own peculiar selves. They probably never could have had Queen’s career, for instance. But they definitely have a more consistent discography. (This isn’t even controversial—Queen had big hits, but few of their studio albums are nearly as strong.) 

The opening track, “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us,” with its cowboy gunshot sound effects and glam-rock-opera melodies are reason enough to have this record. Not that long ago I said something to the effect of “I generally dislike any band whose music has jazz hands—but I like Sparks,” and my friend/colleague Langdon said “that’s because Sparks is prog.” Got me there. Rating: 9.2

Listen: “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for Both of Us”