Rahsaan Roland Kirk – No Tonic Pres
Rahsaan Roland Kirk – Rip, Rig & Panic
Rahsaan Roland Kirk – From Bechet, Byas And Fats
Rahsaan Roland Kirk – Slippery, Hippery, Flippery

Whether my mood is high or low, one thing that I do not miss is the birthday of the patron saint of Melting Pot, Rahsaan Roland Kirk. The chosen record for this year, Rip, Rig & Panic, is a fascinating album for many reasons. While I think the first release I bought of Rahsaan’s was a compilation of tunes from his Warner Bros. releases, this was one of the first actual albums of his that I heard. Recorded in 1965, just as Rahsaan was about to leave Mercury/Limelight and move on to Atlantic and broaden his sound with the Vibration Society, it’s an album that features perhaps the best small combo Rahsaan ever recorded with.

As soon as Davis and Jones lay down that driving rhythm right out the gate on the first track, “No Tonic Pres,” you know you’re getting ready to hear something special. From there Rahsaan hits you with a swooning barrage of notes, played in tribute to Lester “Pres” Young, yet without mimicking Young’s signature style, and once he’s done you then get a solo from Jaki Byard that somehow seamlessly blends avant-garde piano stylings with old-school (even for ’65) barrelhouse playing that might be my favorite of his in all the recordings I’ve heard him on. Every time I hear “No Tonic Pres,” I just shake my head in disbelief that such a thing could ever been recorded.

Rip, Rig & Panic is also notable because of the sonic experiments that Rahsaan employs much more frequently in later work. In fact, of the albums he released prior to actually taking on the name “Rahsaan,” I’d say this is the most Rahsaan sounding album of his early career. It’s clear that Rip, Rig & Panic was a statement album. Especially judging from the way Rahsaan describes what the title represents.

Those sentiments definitely come through on the most out songs of this set, the title track and “Slippery, Hippery, Flippery,” which were influenced by Edgard Varese’s musique concrète compositions. In fact, almost the entire album is in tribute to musicians that Rahsaan admired. In addition to the Lester Young and Varese, “From Bechet, Byas & Fats” is a tribute to each of those New Orleans legends and “Once In A While,” was apparently for Clifford Brown.

Aside from the music, which is some of the best in Rahsaan’s entire career, another reason this album is fascinating is because of the artwork. When I first came across this album, it was on a CD. I had no idea how beautiful the packaging was until I discovered other albums from around this period of time, including a few I’ve featured previously such as Eric Dolphy’s Last Date, and Charles Mingus’ Mingus Revisited. Of all the artists in this special series (I believe there’s a Terry Gibbs one too, but I don’t own it), Rahsaan actually seems to have the most albums, at least that I’ve tracked down, including Slightly Latin (which I also featured here) and I Talk With The Spirits. But of these three, the packaging on Rip, Rig & Panic is by far my favorite. Along with the music contained on the album, it really is extraordinary, and these pictures don’t do it full justice.

Return Of The 5,000LB Man or Bright Moments might be the Rahsaan albums that I’d most highly recommend to people who are not already fans, but for those who are a bit more adventurous, Rip, Rig & Panic is the one I always recommend, for all of the reasons stated above…Bright Moments y’all

Tobruk – I’m In Love With You
Tobruk – Heart Of A Sound Spirit
Tobruk – Queens Are Made
Tobruk – Send It For Tomorrow

Seeing as how I’ve spent large swaths of the past couple of years not posting much, there are a whole lot of records that I’m realizing I still haven’t shared. This one came my way via Joel of Tropicalia In Furs, at one of his legendary Rappcats Pop-Ups. You can’t judge a record by its cover, but with a cover like this, I had to hear what the music sounded like. My memory now is a little iffy on all the particulars, but after either Joel dropped the needle on the first cut or I checked it out from youtube, I was sold.

I do remember asking Joel what the deal was with this band and record, and he said it was some American dudes that cut a record in Brasil. As all the songs were in English, and the band members had names like “Brian Anderson,” and “Billy Rogers,” that made good sense. Getting ready to post this thought, I discovered that apparently all the members of the band were actually from Brasil. The exact same dudes, with the exact same names, had perhaps a bit more local success a year later as Light Reflections. Perhaps they just adopted the Anglo-names to pass themselves off as being from “overseas?” I got no idea. The bigger mystery to me is what happened between the recording of this record and all the others, cause they barely sound like the same group from year to the next.

The sound of Tobruk on this first album is a bit wild and wooly, big fuzzy guitars, heavy drums, weird echo-ey sound effects, secondary vocals that sound like they’re recorded in the hallway. Tobruk doesn’t show a whole lot of range on this album, but they know how to rock a acid freak Hippie groove. The groove is so heavy that I couldn’t resist dropping “Heart Of A Sound Spirit” during a guest set at Funky Sole. I thought for sure it would clear the dancefloor, but coming in near the end of the set, at close to 2am, I was surprised at how packed the floor remained. Especially in the present moment, where going to a club or bar or dancing with folks seems like a distant dream, I’m thankful for that memory.

At a later pop-up, Joel had a second record from Tobruk, which sounded more like Light Reflections than this album, where all of the rough edges had been removed from the group. Such a shame. I really would have loved to have heard them produce another freak-out LP like this. But, that’s the way of world often…Let’s just be thankful for what we got.

Leon Lowman – Friends
Leon Lowman – Flourescent Funk
Leon Lowman – Open
Leon Lowman – Liquid Diamonds

As I somewhat feverishly attempt to shoehorn a few posts in before the end of this 10th year of Melting Pot, I thought this would be an interesting one to highlight even though I know next to nothing about it. This record first came up on my radar four years ago, when multimedia artist/DJ Laura Sofía Pérez included “Friends” in a mix. Though her time in LA was short, I’m always thankful for a music connection and the unique sound stuck in my mind, until finally I decided to track down a copy. I was both surprised and not surprised that all of the sounds on “Syntheseas” were performed by the artist, Leon Lowman.

From the notes on the back cover, Lowman was based in Narragansett, Rhode Island and aside from this album, he released three other cassette only albums in the 1980s. That’s basically all I know, other than he dedicated each of the songs on this album to different individuals and the album as a whole to “all those who love to ride the surf.” I’d never thought of synthy Jazz funk as surf music, but if there ever was a time for that to be the case, 1980 was definitely the time.

Kain – I Ain’t Black/Harlem Preacher
Kain – Look Out For The Blue Guerilla
Kain – Black Satin Amazon Fire Engine Cry Baby
Kain – Clouds

Along with Nikki Giovanni, another poet’s work that had been on my mind during the July 4^th weekend was that of “original” Last Poets member, Gylan Kain. 

While the group that most people associate with the name “The Last Poets,” featured an original collaborator, Abiodune Oyewole, Kain, along with David Nelson and Felipe Luciano comprised the first incarnation of the group (if you’ve never seen their performance film “Right On,” I highly recommend you track it down).  Felipe Luciano (who left the Last Poets to form the Young Lords) contributes some liner notes/poetry that like the Nikki Giovanni shared earlier, remains far too relevant for the current moment.

Out of all the poets associated with the group, I’ve been most drawn to the enigma of Kain, particularly after first tracking down this album as reissued CD on the Collectibles record label in the 1990s.  Aside from the spoken word, this album sounds nothing like any of the other releases associated with the various “Poets.” “I Ain’t Black/Harlem Preacher,” starts the album off in madcap fashion, as assorted denizens of a neighborhood bar, supposedly in 1925, take turns vilifying an outsider who is not easily classified as Black or White with shouts of “You Black Bastard,” and then “You White Motherfucker,” to which the “Preacher” replies that he ain’t Black or White, as the music shifts effortlessly from Soul to Blues to Avant-Garde Jazz.

Aside from Kain’s manic, guttural, poetry and performance style, it’s the musical accompaniment that really sets this album apart from others released by The Last Poets.  I hoped that tracking down an original copy of the record might solve the mystery of who plays on the album, but there’s no breakdown of the musicians.  The fact that there are multiple credits from Nile Rodgers makes me think that he might have been involved in the session, even though he would have been only a teenager at the time.  With nods to Sly Stone and Duke Pearson (whose “Christo Redentor” serves as the basis for the music for “Clouds”), the band draws on many different threads of contemporary Black music, while always sounding original.  They are the perfect compliment to Kain.

Of all the tracks on this unique album, “The Blue Guerilla,” is the one I love the most and have played the most.  I even personally edited a censored version so that I could add it to the rotation at Album 88 back when I was a music director there in the mid-1990s.  It’s a fascinating song, full of biblical allusions, mixed with revolutionary/apocalyptic themes, where Kain seems to imagine the second coming of Jesus Christ as the titular character, a figure that he repeatedly warns to listener to look out for, with this dark rumbling music that builds and builds and builds through it’s nearly 7 minutes.

“…As God is my witness,
Out from behind one of these rocks,
Came something looking very much like a Blue Guerilla, (You better look out Motherfuckers!)
He had a big apple cap,
He had a M-14 axe at his side,
And he was…hitching a ride.

I said ‘Hey baby, who are you?’
He said ‘Jesus Christ,’
Just like that, he said it,
I said, ‘You know one thing,’
He said, ‘What’s that baby?’
I said, ‘They didn’t accept you two thousand years ago, they’re not gonna accept you now.’
But the Blue Guerilla he just looked at me,
Smiled his heavenly smile,
Grinned his all-knowing grin, (all knowing grin!)
And then he said ‘Kain!’ (Kain!)
When he said my name Kain I knew he had to be God, (who else?)
He said ‘Kain, I don’t want you to worry about a thing,
‘cause you see,’ and then he said these words to me.

He said, ‘life ain’t nothing but a river,
Moving through an empty hand,’
He said, ‘life ain’t nothing but a river,
Just moving through an empty hand,
Well, you can hold on if you want to,
But Lord when the shit hits the fan,
You better look out for the Blue Guerilla.’
You better look out for the Blue Guerilla,
You better look out, Look out!
Look out! Look out! Look out!
Look out! Look out!
Look out for the Blue Guerilla,
Look out… (on your ass motherfucker!)
Good lookin’ out, Good lookin’ out…”

It’s hard not to think of our own current moment, with machine guns seemingly on every block as Kain mentions early in the song, and everything we’ve already gone through in 2020, with a whole ‘nuther half of this insane year to follow, and not feel like this might be a good time to be vigilant for Kain’s Blue Guerilla…