In 1964, Eric Dolphy released Out to Lunch!, an avant-garde masterpiece that stands as one of the most daring and influential works in the history of jazz. As a multi-instrumentalist, Dolphy assembled a stellar ensemble of jazz virtuosos, including Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Bobby Hutcherson on vibraphone, Richard Davis on bass, and the prodigious 18-year-old drummer Tony Williams.
The album opens with the now-iconic “Hat and Beard,” a composition that pays homage to Thelonious Monk, celebrated not only for his unique musical style but also for his distinct sartorial choices.
On “Hat and Beard”, Dolphy plays the bass clarinet, and the music pulses with dissonance, chordal improvisation, and thrilling rhythms, cementing its place as a timeless classic.
The song’s introduction evokes the eerie atmosphere of a crime fiction soundtrack, perhaps one inspired by the hardboiled novels of James M. Cain or Raymond Chandler. Throughout the piece, Dolphy and Hubbard deliver bold, adventurous solos that captivate the listener. Meanwhile, Davis adapts his basslines to complement the soloists, even using his bow during Hutcherson’s vibraphone solo, adding a layer of depth to the performance. The drumming, too, is exceptional, with Williams demonstrating remarkable dexterity and creativity that enhances the intensity of the track.
Out to Lunch! was Dolphy’s final album as a bandleader. Tragically, he passed away just a few months after its release, at the age of 36, while in Germany. Although the exact cause of his death has been the subject of some debate, it is most commonly attributed to undiagnosed diabetes.
Zebra, the hard rock band that soared to stardom in the 80s, isn’t typically my cup of tea. However, I like to maintain an open mind when it comes to all types of music, and I must admit that I’m deeply fond of their epic song “Who’s Behind the Door?”. The track is featured on the band’s debut eponymous album (1983), which unexpectedly peaked at #29 on the Billboard 200 albums chart and was certified Gold.
I was initially drawn to the song by its powerful and dynamic music. “…Door” is clearly inspired by the legendary Led Zeppelin, who crafted numerous iconic songs that begin with delicate acoustic guitar riffs and dramatically explode into thunderous electric hard rock. Singer/songwriter Randy Jackson’s raw, high-pitched voice also bears a striking resemblance to Zep’s Robert Plant.
The lyrics delve into profound existential questions, exploring how one might find answers to life’s mystical mysteries. The identity of the enigmatic “they” remains obscure — they could be gods, or perhaps otherworldly highly intelligent alien beings.
In an intriguing interview with Casey Chambers of thecollegecrowddigsme.com, Jackson described his inspiration for the song:
“…I was in Texas at my grandparent’s farm, which is isolated right outside of Dallas. I had some guitar parts that I had written in open tuning… in open G. Just a whole bunch of rough ideas scattered across different cassette tapes. I’ve always been a huge fan of visionary films like 2001: A Space Odyssey.
The farm was quiet and remote, with no phone, no distractions. The song carries a spiritual air in places, and that religious undertone, in a roundabout way, was one of the biggest influences on the song. I think the combination of the open tuning, melody ideas, and the mysterious theme from 2001 led me to create ‘Who’s Behind The Door?’.”
Though many may find the lyrics slightly hokey, I understand how the mesmerizing combination of moving music and intricate words made it such a chart-topping hit in the 80s.
“Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor Doctor)” became a Top 20 hit for Robert Palmer in 1979, a testament to Palmer’s talent for picking great songs. With his powerful voice, excellent backing musicians, striking looks, and impeccable sartorial style, Palmer had all the ingredients for success.
However, today’s Song of the Week (SotW) focuses on the original version of the track, written by Oklahoman Moon Martin.
Martin released his rendition on his debut album Shots from a Cold Nightmare (1978), which concocted a new wave-infused rockabilly sound. For this recording, Martin enlisted fellow Oklahoman Phil Seymour (known for his work with the Dwight Twilley Band) on drums, alongside Blondie bassist Gary Valentine. The album’s production was handled by Craig Leon, whose credits include work with The Ramones, Blondie, Willie Alexander, and Richard Hell & The Voidoids. The result was a unique and fresh — introducing a distinctive style to the music scene.
So, why did I give the nod to Martin’s original over Palmer’s more widely recognized version? While Palmer’s vocal performance is undeniably fantastic, he loses some points for staying so faithful to Martin’s arrangement. In this case, I wanted to shine a light on the songwriter himself and give him the credit he deserves.
It’s also worth noting that Martin wasn’t done yet. Shots from a Cold Nightmare also featured “Cadillac Walk,” which was later given a cool interpretation by Mink Deville, further showcasing Martin’s knack for crafting songs that others couldn’t resist covering.
On February 18, 2024, I posted about Roberta Flack’s rendition of “Compared to What” in celebration of Black History Month. Tragically, almost one year to the day, we learned of her passing at the age of 88 on February 21, 2025.
In light of this, I want to pay tribute to her once again with the next installment of my “Evolution Series.”
Flack first gained widespread attention with “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” which became a hit after being featured in Clint Eastwood’s directorial debut Play Misty for Me in 1973. The song earned her a Grammy for Record of the Year. She followed that success in 1974 with another Grammy, this time for “Killing Me Softly.”
Flack first heard the song “Killing Me Softly” in a version by Lori Lieberman, which she discovered on an in-flight airline playlist. She later recalled being so captivated by the song that she played it repeatedly until she could transcribe the melody.
The lyrics were written by Lieberman in collaboration with Norman Gimbel, inspired by a performance she witnessed by Don McLean — famous for “American Pie” — at The Troubadour nightclub in LA. Despite her role in writing the song, Lieberman was not credited as one of the songwriters. Undeterred, she recorded and released her own version, though it did not chart.
It’s easy to understand why Flack was so drawn to the song’s simple yet haunting melody, which left a lasting impression on her.
Over two decades later, in 1996, The Fugees released a hip-hop version of the song on their album The Score. With Lauryn Hill providing the lead vocals, the song soared to the top of the charts, reaching #1 in twenty countries and winning several Grammy Awards, including a second Record of the Year.
The Fugees performed the song during their recent appearance at the excellent SNL50: The Homecoming Concert held at Radio City Music Hall in New York on February 14th. It can be streamed on Peacock.
Roberta Flack was not only a pioneering artist in pop and soul music, but she was also a philanthropist and an influential civil rights activist. She will be greatly missed by her many devoted fans.
The British jazz band known as the Ezra Collective has been active since 2016, but I only learned about them recently, after they released their critically acclaimed third album – Dance, No One’s Watching – in September 2024.
Actually, I find categorizing them as a jazz band doesn’t describe them very well because I hear such a prominent Afrobeat flavor in their music. They fuse elements of many genres into their musical stew, citing Kendrick Lamar and Robert Glasper as influences.
Take, for instance, “God Gave Me Feet for Dancing” which Barack Obama listed as one of his 25 favorite songs of 2024.
“God Gave Me Feet…” has a vocal assist from London-born singer-songwriter Yazmin Lacey. Ezra Collective drummer and bandleader Femi Koleoso has described his inspiration for the song:
“Myself, (bandmates) Ife, and TJ all grew up in church, and it played a massive role in how we view the purpose of dancing. Dancing is bigger than just the club space. Dancing is a community thing, dancing is a spiritual thing, and ‘God Gave Me Feet for Dancing’ is like a window into that element of Ezra Collective for the five of us. There’s a story in the bible that talks about ‘David dancing before the lord’, and that’s always been something that has inspired me. So, ‘God Gave Me Feet for Dancing’ is meant to look at dancing in a more spiritual capacity, like it’s our God-given ability to shake away the badness of life and dance instead.”
The band won the Mercury Prize in 2023 for their previous album, Where I’m Meant to Be. They were the first jazz band to win that prestigious award.
This weekend marks the 17th anniversary of SotW. When I sent my first post, I never dreamed I would still be doing it all these years later. Thank you for your support.
Randy Newman has grappled with the concept of racism throughout his career, using his signature satirical style to expose its cruelty and hypocrisy.
One of his earliest songs to address the issue was “Sail Away” (1972), written from the perspective of a slave trader enticing Africans with false promises.
Typical of Newman, the song’s irony was lost on some listeners, who mistakenly thought he was mocking the enslaved rather than condemning the practice. The lyrics lay bare the deception used to lure captives:
In America you get food to eat Won’t have to run through the jungle And scuff up your feet You just sing about Jesus and drink wine all day It’s great to be an American
Ain’t no lion or tiger, ain’t no mamba snake Just the sweet watermelon and the buckwheat cake Ev’rybody is as happy as a man can be Climb aboard, little wog, sail away with me
Newman expanded on the theme of racism with Good Old Boys (1974), a concept album that opens with “Rednecks.”
The song was inspired by Newman’s reaction to a Dick Cavett Show interview featuring Georgia’s segregationist governor, Lester Maddox. Maddox, ridiculed by Cavett and the audience, eventually walked off the show. You can watch it here:
While Newman was no fan of Maddox, he saw the hypocrisy in Northern attitudes toward racism. The song begins with a sharp critique of both Maddox and his detractors:
Newman then sketches a stereotypical Southern racist.
We talk real funny down here We drink too much and we laugh too loud We’re too dumb to make it in no Northern town And we’re keepin’ the niggers down
Finally, he exposes Northerners’ hypocrisy.
Now your northern nigger’s a Negro You see he’s got his dignity Down here we’re too ignorant to realize That the North has set the nigger free
Yes he’s free to be put in a cage In Harlem in New York City And he’s free to be put in a cage in the South-Side of Chicago And the West-Side And he’s free to be put in a cage in Hough in Cleveland And he’s free to be put in a cage in East St. Louis And he’s free to be put in a cage in Fillmore in San Francisco And he’s free to be put in a cage in Roxbury in Boston They’re gatherin’ ’em up from miles around Keepin’ the niggers down
The song’s use of the N-word sparked controversy. Today, it is widely accepted that the word should NEVER be used, especially by a white person. However, Harvard Law School professor Randall Kennedy has defended writers who employ the term “to dramatize and condemn racism’s baleful presence.” Newman’s intent aligns with this perspective — his lyrics serve as an indictment, not an endorsement.
Newman continued exploring racism in later works, including Trouble in Paradise (1983).
“Christmas in Cape Town” presents a white South African bigot trying to justify apartheid to an Englishwoman:
This English girl from the North somewhere Is stayin’ with me at my place Drinkin’ up all my beer Talkin’ about the poor niggers all the time It’s a real disgrace, she says I tell her, Darling, don’t talk about things You don’t understand I tell her, Darling, don’t talk about something You don’t know anything about I tell her, Darling, if you don’t like it here Go back to your own miserable country
We’ve come a long way in confronting racism, but there is still plenty of work to be done. Unfortunately, recent attacks on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives threaten to stall progress rather than advance it.
Elliott Smith was one of the most brilliant songwriters of the 1990s, yet his legacy is too often reduced to just two moments: his 1998 Oscar nomination for Best Original Song for “Miss Misery” from Good Will Hunting, and his tragic death in 2003 at the age of 34 from two stab wounds to the chest.
But Smith’s artistry deserves so much more.
His 1997 album Either/Or is a genuine classic — an album that has only grown in stature over the years. Three of its songs were featured in Good Will Hunting, and it has consistently appeared on “best of” lists, cementing its place in indie rock history. Its accolades speak for themselves:
Pitchfork ranked Either/Or 59th in its list of the 100 Greatest Albums of the 1990s and later placed it at #23 in its Best Albums of the Decade list (2022).
Spin ranked it #48 on its list of the best albums from 1987 to 2012.
Blender named it the 36th greatest indie rock album ever.
NME included it at #149 on their 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list.
Consequence of Sound ranked it #97 among the greatest albums ever made.
Rolling Stone placed it at #216 in the 2020 edition of their 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.
Among its many gems, the album’s closing track, “Say Yes,” stands out as one of Smith’s most optimistic songs.
It was written for his then-girlfriend, Joanna Bolme, but Smith was vague about its origins. “It’s about someone particular, and I almost never do that. I was really in love with someone,” he admitted without identifying the person.
“Say Yes” captures the essence of Smith’s songwriting — short and sweet, honest yet deceptively simple. He even leaves in the sound of himself clearing his throat at the start of the recording, an unfiltered moment that adds to its raw intimacy.
I’m in love with the world Through the eyes of a girl Who’s still around the morning after
This is Elliott Smith at his finest — delicate, deeply personal, and achingly sincere. “Say Yes” is not just a song; it’s a glimpse into the quiet beauty of his genius.
Yesterday marked the 50th anniversary of the performance Keith Jarrett recorded The Köln Concert. Long considered one of the most famous and influential solo jazz records, it almost wasn’t to be.
A concert was booked at Köln Opera House in Cologne, West Germany, by a very young promoter named Vera Brandes, and quickly sold out. Jarrett traveled to the city from Zurich, Switzerland, where he had performed a few days earlier. The trip, by car, was exhausting and Jarrett was fatigued and hungry by the time he reached Germany.
When he arrived at the Opera House he discovered there was a terrible mix up. He had specified that the instrument he would play must be an Imperial Bösendorfer. The venue confirmed that they had one. Instead, he found Bösendorfer baby grand. It was an instrument on hand for rehearsals, was out of tune, and had keys and pedals that stuck or didn’t work at all.
A piano tuner came to the rescue and set to work making the baby grand playable. Jarrett was not initially satisfied and threatened to cancel the gig. But ultimately, he agreed to perform, partly because the concert was scheduled to be recorded and the equipment was already set up and ready to go.
Wikipedia reports that Jarrett “used ostinatos and rolling left-hand rhythmic figures during his performance to give the effect of stronger bass notes, and concentrated his playing in the middle portion of the keyboard.” In 2011, Jarrett told the jazz critic Don Heckman “I was forced to play in what was — at the time — a new way. Somehow I felt I had to bring out whatever qualities this instrument had… my sense was, ‘I have to do this. I’m doing it. I don’t care what the fuck the piano sounds like.’”
Who could have guessed that those horrible circumstances would result in one of the most beloved jazz albums ever, ultimately tallying sales of about 4 million copies, and earning a spot in Robert Dimery’s list of 1001 Albums You Must Hear before You Die.
Today’s SotW post was written by frequent guest contributor and long-time friend, Michael Paquette.
Robert Plant’s solo career has been a bit uneven, but he has always sought fulfillment with his musical efforts and has produced a wide range of material in following that path. His most highly acclaimed work outside of Led Zeppelin is his collaboration with Allison Krauss which resulted in the landmark Americana album Raising Sand (2007). Led Zeppelin was not much of a singles band. Plant’s solo works have not climbed the charts but consistently produced compelling music. Led Zeppelin called it a day after the death of John Bonham in 1980. Many fans felt that the band would reunite with a different drummer. However, that never happened partly because Robert Plant was so engaged in his solo career.
Plant’s second solo release was called The Principle of Moments. Released in 1983, it fits in with the works of many bands that used synths for bold and splashy sounds at that time. But Plant and his bandmates used synths to construct an evocative and more subtle mood. The guitar work on this album by Robbie Blunt conjures up a similar sound to what Mark Knopfler was playing with Dire Straits.
When “Big Log” was released, it snuck into the top 20 in 1983 on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart, and #6 on Billboard’s Top Tracks. It was Plant’s first solo release to chart. The album would continue to gain recognition and was ultimately certified gold with two other songs that also made the charts.
Plant uses a more restrained vocal on this song cutting loose with some wails as the song progresses. Phil Collins is on the drums. The title appears to be a little suggestive but is just a reference to a log blazing in a fireplace while Plant and Blunt were laying down the track. This song still burns bright when revisited over 40 years later. It is a fine solo work constructed by a leader of one of the all-time greatest bands.
A remastered edition of the album was released in 2007. It included live renditions of two songs from the original release, and an unreleased live version of Plant and Bob Marley performing “Lively Up Yourself” recorded in September 1983.
The Principle of Moments is a fine addition to any record collection that also includes Led Zeppelin material.
In rock and roll history, the name Wayne Perkins isn’t instantly recognizable. Unless, that is, you carefully read the credits in the liner notes of your albums.
Perkins recorded with high-profile artists, including the Rolling Stones, Bob Marley, and Joni Mitchell. He was almost invited to replace Mick Taylor when Taylor left the Stones but was ultimately passed over for their old friend Ron Wood. Yet, before that decision, he laid down remarkable tracks on the Stones’ Black and Blue (1976) album. His playing on “Hand of Fate” is epic!
For Marley, he overdubbed guitar on three tracks on the Catch a Fire (1973) album. (For those who collect vinyl, you may remember this album with the cover that depicted a Zippo lighter that opened at the top!) Perkins’ best contribution is the solo on “Concrete Jungle.”
Joni Mitchell’s breakthrough commercial success Court and Spark (1974) includes some fine guitar playing by Perkins on “Car on a Hill.” It has been said that the song is about an incident where Joni was waiting in vain for her then-boyfriend Jackson Browne to show up because he was out with his new partner Phyllis Majors – who he eventually married. Perkins’ crying guitar adds to the feeling of anxiety that Mitchell’s song conveys.
After discovering Perkins’ role in this set of songs, I’m confident you will agree he deserves recognition not just as a footnote in rock history, but as a pivotal figure in its development.
The album opens with the now-iconic “Hat and Beard,” a composition that pays homage to Thelonious Monk, celebrated not only for his unique musical style but also for his distinct sartorial choices.