Back in the ’80s, I was a terrible club DJ — mainly because I didn’t really like dance music. That’s not to say I didn’t like dancing, or that I couldn’t enjoy a song with a good beat. I just didn’t have much love for what was then considered “dance music”: Madonna, Michael Jackson, Taylor Dayne, Paula Abdul, and Wham!, along with a steady stream of one-hit wonders like MARRS and Technotronic.
The music I enjoyed spinning leaned more toward New Wave — bands like New Order, The Cure, and The Human League — or Urban Contemporary acts like Salt-N-Pepa, Neneh Cherry, and Keith Sweat. I also couldn’t resist throwing in some classic rock staples like John Mellencamp and AC/DC.
Then there were the really offbeat tracks — the ones that made no sense for a dance floor, which is probably why I loved them. One of my favorites was “Peek-A-Boo” by Siouxsie + The Banshees.
I gravitated to “Peek-A-Boo” because it didn’t sound like anything else at the time. A review on postpunkmonk.com perfectly captures its essence:
“… a succinct 3:10 mix of reversed percussion loops, accordion, sampled piccolos, and almost binaural hard-gated panning of sound in the stereo field. The embittered look at a stripper’s lot became a psychedelic hip-hop freakout in the band’s hands. Even today, I marvel that something this left-field became The Banshees calling card in America…”
That kind of kooky, off-the-wall cut was exactly what could pull me onto the dance floor back in my twenties.
Siouxsie Sioux was married to her bandmate Budgie for about 15 years — a famously tumultuous relationship. Budgie recently wrote a memoir titled The Absence: Memoirs of a Banshee Drummer, set for release this October. I recently read an excerpt, and now I can’t wait to devour the entire book when it’s out.
Back in 1980, an EP was released in the U.S. on clear green 10-inch vinyl by a band called Klark Kent. As it turned out, Klark Kent was a pseudonym for a solo project by Stewart Copeland, the powerhouse drummer of The Police.
At the time, The Police were riding high on the success of their third album, Zenyatta Mondatta. Copeland, wary of competing with his own band, initially denied any connection to the mysterious Klark Kent.
When the “band” performed the EP’s lead single, “Don’t Care,” on the British music program Top of the Pops, the lineup included Copeland, Sting, Andy Summers, Kim Turner, Florian Pilkington-Miksa, and Miles Copeland—all wearing masks to conceal their identities. The performance, delightfully bizarre and unmistakably tongue-in-cheek, is still available on YouTube.
“Don’t Care” is a classic Stewart Copeland track: fast-paced, punchy, and bursting with energy. It climbed to #48 on the UK Singles Chart. Remarkably, Copeland played all the instruments on the Klark Kent disc himself.
The name Klark Kent was a clever nod to Superman’s mild-mannered alter ego, a fitting disguise for a rock star moonlighting as his own one-man band.
If you listen to “Street Walker” for the first time, you might think it was recorded by one of the late ‘60s psychedelic rock bands like Steppenwolf.
So, let’s talk about “Street Walker,” the second cut off the Gotta Groove album the Bar‑Kays dropped in ’69 – released just two years after their world got turned inside out. It was the first record from the reformed Bar‑Kays following the tragic 1967 plane crash in Wisconsin that took Otis Redding and much of the original band.
What rises from the ashes is a record like Gotta Groove, and smack in the middle of it is “Street Walker,” a three-minute burner that doesn’t just walk — it glides through a shadowy, psychedelic back alley with fuzzed-up guitar, swirling organ, and a horn section that sounds like it’s been up all-night smoking with Sly Stone’s rhythm section. (The alum even kicks off with a “tribute” to Sly called “Don’t Stop the Dancing (To the Music)”.)
Gotta Groove reached No. 40 on the Billboard R&B LP chart and stayed there for four weeks, though it didn’t cross over to the pop charts. While “Street Walker” wasn’t released as a hit single, it played a key role in helping the album gain traction and establish the band’s post-reformation identity. It was probably too weird, too moody, too sideways. But that’s what makes it special. It wasn’t trying to sell — it was trying to explore.
And this is where you’ve gotta give the Bar‑Kays credit. They could’ve played it safe. They had the Stax name, they had the chops. But instead, “Street Walker” is steeped in a moody, fuzz-toned atmosphere: swirling organ riffs, distorted guitar licks, and a slightly off-kilter groove that gives it a late-night, acid-funk edge. The song’s instrumental layering — particularly its use of wah-wah guitar, echo-drenched horns, and droning rhythmic repetitions — recalls elements of psychedelic rock as heard in bands like Iron Butterfly, The Electric Flag, or even early Funkadelic, who were also blending soul with distorted, psychedelic textures.
“Street Walker” stands as a defining early statement from the reborn Bar‑Kays, melding psychedelic soul, incendiary funk, and jazzy sophistication into a compact 3-minute groove. It captures a band in transition, honoring their Stax past while pushing toward the richer, funk-infused future.
Dig it late at night with the lights low. Or better yet, spin it between “Dance to the Music” and “I Wanna Take You Higher” and watch the floor tilt sideways.
On October 3, 2015, I published a post to pay tribute to jazz greats Wilton Felder and Phil Woods, both of whom had passed away the previous month. I noted a curious coincidence: both had contributed to Steely Dan’s album Katy Lied. Felder played bass on “Chain Lightning,” while Woods delivered a memorable sax solo on “Doctor Wu.”
Over the years, many rock musicians have turned to jazz legends to infuse their recordings with sophistication, soul, and swing. Today, let’s spotlight a few of those memorable collaborations. But first, a simple ground rule: the featured jazz artists must have been born before 1940.
This eliminates many exceptional, yet more “contemporary,” jazz-fusion and smooth jazz icons such as Randy Brecker (Bruce Springsteen), Michael Brecker (Paul Simon), David Sanborn (David Bowie), Jaco Pastorius (Joni Mitchell), Branford Marsalis (Sting and the Grateful Dead), Tom Scott (Paul McCartney), and Larry Carlton (Steely Dan).
Interestingly, some of them had early career breaks in rock bands. The Brecker Brothers, for instance, played in the original Al Kooper-led version of Blood, Sweat & Tears (Child Is Father to the Man, 1968), while Sanborn spent five years (1967–1971) with The Butterfield Blues Band.
So, who’s left under our ground rule? Quite a few, as it turns out.
Perhaps the most iconic jazz cameo in rock history is the sax solo Sonny Rollins played on the Rolling Stones’ “Waiting on a Friend.” In fact, Rollins contributed to three tracks on Tattoo You (1981), though he was uncredited in the liner notes. At the time, many saw this omission as a slight, but Rollins later explained that he had requested anonymity — fearing association with a rock record might damage his credibility in the jazz world. Rollins, often hailed as one of the greatest tenor saxophonists in jazz history, rose to prominence in the 1950s alongside legends like Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, and Max Roach. His landmark albums — Saxophone Colossus, Tenor Madness, and Way Out West — cemented his status as a titan of modern jazz.
Another poignant fusion came on Elvis Costello’s “Shipbuilding.” Written by Clive Langer with lyrics by Costello, the song reflects on the bitter irony of war bringing economic revival to Britain’s shipyards during the 1982 Falklands War. Originally recorded by Robert Wyatt, Costello later included his own version on Punch the Clock (1983), enlisting the great Chet Baker to deliver a haunting, elegiac trumpet solo. Baker, a central figure in the West Coast “cool jazz” scene of the 1950s, became famous for his lyrical, introspective style. Known equally for his trumpet playing and intimate vocals, Baker first gained national attention with Gerry Mulligan’s pianoless quartet, and went on to lead a storied — and often tumultuous — career that spanned decades.
Then there’s Wayne Shorter — legendary saxophonist with Miles Davis and Weather Report — who graced the title track of Steely Dan’s Aja (1977) with a transcendent solo. Recording at the Village Recorder studio in Los Angeles, Steely Dan’s jazz-obsessed duo, Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, were determined to bring Shorter on board. Through a connection with studio owner Dick LaPalm, a friend of Shorter’s, they got their wish. Reportedly, Shorter laid down six takes over roughly 35 minutes, and was gone! What he left behind remains timeless.
And we circle back to Phil Woods — who earns a second mention for his gorgeous solo on Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are.” Often referred to as the “New Bird” for his stylistic ties to Charlie Parker, Woods had played with jazz titans like Sonny Stitt, Cannonball Adderley, and Dizzy Gillespie. His lyrical, yearning alto sax solo helped elevate Joel’s ballad to Grammy-winning heights in 1979, claiming both Record of the Year and Song of the Year.
These examples showcase how traditional jazz artists have not only crossed over into rock — they’ve enriched it. Their contributions remain some of the most expressive moments in rock music history.
