Tag Archives: Al Jackson

The Band as players and singers

Just an addendum to the piece I wrote the other day on The Band. Not nearly enough gets said about these guys as singers and players. If Robertson isn’t quite the player I once held him to be – he’s never really convincing again as a rock ‘n’ roll player after the Dylan tour of 1965-66, and his clean, soul-style playing is just too slavish in its imitation of Curtis Mayfield for him to be considered a player of the first rank – Danko, Hudson and Helm are among the most immediately distinctive players of their primary instruments. And Robertson was, for a couple of years at least, a songwriter of idiosyncratic brilliance

Rick Danko’s bass style is unlike anybody else’s. He never made a feature of locking in with Helm’s kick. He wasn’t a root-fifth country plonkster, or a straight-eights guy. He did this weird syncopation thing that was totally his own. Bass Musician magazine called it Danko-ing. There’s no better term for it; it was totally his own thing. He compared it to playing horn bass, and there was something very tuba-esque about his tone at times.

Here’s how to Danko:

danko-ing

Levon Helm, I’ve said before, is one of my very favourite drummers. He was a very danceable drummer. Funky, with a lazy late backbeat, like Al Jackson’s was late, like Earl Young’s was late, like Ringo Starr’s was late, like Jim Eno’s is today. He put it right where it felt best. And he did it while singing lead and harmony vocals.

As for Garth Hudson, weird eccentric polymath Garth Hudson, you’re talking about a guy who could play a lightning-speed organ solo, create ever-shifting textures with his Lowery, custom build his own effects boxes for totally unique sounds, tear it up with a honking tenor-sax solo or make you cry with a tender soprano sax solo. He’s totally unique. A true one-off.

The Band’s harmonies were great, too. While they swapped lead vocals – and in the early days tended to trade lines with each other within songs – there was a defined three-part harmony they tended to fall back on: Helm at the bottom, Danko in the middle and Richard Manuel on top, often singing falsetto. You can hear it clearly on the beautiful Rockin’ Chair. Manuel sings the verses, but in the choruses, that’s him right at the top. Then he drops down to take the lead again. They’d do it the same way live as on record. It’s not a slick sound. They didn’t hit their consonants at the same time, take their breaths in perfect synchronisation or soften their distinctive timbres to better blend their voices. They sang from the heart, and they sounded wonderful.

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Let’s Stay Together – Al Green

Let’s get right to the point. Let’s Stay Together by Al Green is one of the most glorious records in popular music. If you drew a Venn diagram of all the different kinds of soul music, from the roughest Southern cut to the most sophisticated and classy Philly soul ballad, Let’s Stay Together would be in the middle. It’s raw without being rough, sweet without being cloying, smooth without being bland. If you like deep soul with a small-band feel, the core of Let’s Stay Together is the rhythm section, organ and one guitar. If you like horns and strings, you’ve got them too: a couple of horns on the right, playing the iconic off-beat lick that opens the song, and a small string section on the left.

The guys who made Let’s Stay Together knew how to put together a hit record. The song was written by producer Willie Mitchell and drummer Al Jackson, Jr. Jackson still played on Hi Records sessions as a favour to Mitchell, even though he had enough work on his plate to keep him busy every day of every week, and it was he came up with the rolling beat that defines the song’s rhythmic feel. It was presumably played by him on traps kit and Howard Grimes (who was Green’s drummer when Jackson wasn’t around) on, I’d guess, congas. It’s one of the greatest drum tracks in pop music, instantly addictive and endless satisfying. Mitchell could have put that out with just Green’s vocal on top and it would have got to number one just the same.

But the record has so much else to offer, Green’s vocal being a key part of its charm. Green was somewhat unsure about singing softly and making such prominent use of falsetto. He’s grown up as a something of a shouter with bluesy, Otis Redding inflections. Mitchell coached him to tone it down, to speak softer and mean more. The result was a career-defining performance, and turned ‘Al Green’ into a sort of shorthand when describing male soul ballad singers.

There’s a sort of alchemy present in Let’s Stay Together: the warm and inviting instrument sounds; the sense of vocal power held in reserve; the extreme discipline of the musicians (listen to every instrument in turn: no one’s playing much). There’s a couple of dozen live versions of this song on YouTube if you want to spend an hour or so going through them. None of them is a patch on the studio version. It was a once in a lifetime moment for Green. And he didn’t know it at the time, fighting Mitchell over the song for days before finally giving in and recording it. Sometimes musicians are the worst judges of their own work.

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