I don’t remember how I came to do this particular Mixtape but its stylistic breadth and spiritual seriousness is uplifting beyond anything I could have foreseen. Once I got into pulling together different versions, especially when I delved into selections I had forgotten or had never previously heard, I began smiling. The mix of jazz and gospel, both genres ranging from straight ahead to way out, from historic to contemporary, I was mighty, mighty pleased with the result.

I doubt that anyone has heard all of these fine versions, each of which bring their own specialness to the altar of liturgical song. Certainly no one has heard these fifteen tracks put together in a oneness of sonic delight.

For me, a born again pagan, this set suggests those areas of the human experience for which there are no rational explanations. Here we have an arena of feelings that is beyond the purview of any logic other than the complex calculus of the emotions, the passionate flow of feelings that profoundly move us. When we listen to music like this we might not know how or why but we are nonetheless moved, stirred, filled to overflowing with raw, unnameable sentiments.

I seldom try to predict what people will or will not like but I feel safe in suggesting that this is a collection that can be enjoyed once, twice, thrice without growing old or boring.

—Kalamu ya Salaam

There Is A Balm In Gilead Mixtape Playlist

01 Deep River – Donna Weaver, The Atlanta Singers

02 Motherless Child – John Blake Jr

03 Better Than Anything – Nnenna Freelon

04 Leimert Park – Kamau Daaood

05 Getting To Know You – Sunny Sumter

06 This Little Light Of Mine – Courtney Bryan

07 Sanctuary – Larry Willis

08 The Essential Mahalia Jackson – Mahalia

09 Blasé – Archie Shepp

10 The Hammond Organ of Christmas – Rhoda Scott

11 The Definitive Gospel Collection – Clark Sisters

12 Finally Karen – Karen Clark-Sheard

13 African Spirit – Soweto Gospel Choir

14 At Drury Lane 1977 – Nina Simone

15 At Drury Lane 1977 – Nina Simone

Sometimes in baseball you’re in the batter’s box, you’ve been having a pretty good day, one homer, a double and two walks. You begin to believe that this is one of those days, by hook or by crook, there’s nothing they can do to stop you, the substitute relief pitcher who threw four outside balls when he first faced you wasn’t even a small bump in your road to glory.

You check with the batting coach and he signals for you to take the first pitch. Mr. Relief fires one straight down the middle, a fast ball that looks slow to you. You chuckle to yourself; if this is the best that old boy can throw, you’re going to knock the next one out of here. The coach signals swing away. You grin. Old boy throws a wicked inside curve ball, you have to duck to keep from getting hit. You grin again. Another inside fast ball—you back away, the umpire shouts “ball.” One strike, two balls, you’re way ahead of the game. Another high, inside fast ball that you lean back from. “Ball.” Coach says take the next one, which was a fast ball smoking right down the middle. Full count. You just know the next one is going to be another inside fast ball. The coach says swing away. You grin. A low inside slider that obviously is going to miss everything except it breaks at the last minute and you’re left looking at a pitch you’ve never seen this guy throw. And you can’t believe it.

With her debut album, Heidi throws a hell of a pitch. She broke into the majors as the second vocalist and shortly thereafter as the lead vocalist for The Cinematic Orchestra, an electronic jazz outfit out of England where Heidi is from. Their music is serious but no one would consider it quiet intimate sounds. Even on ballads they are often raucously loud. Listen to the first two tracks on the Mixtape, “Breathe” and “All That You Give.” These are both Cinematic features for Heidi, songs that are enduringly associated with Heidi. After three or four albums and a long stint with the band, you pretty much know what to expect.

And so when Tears Of A Bird (the English translation of the Portuguese title, Lagrimas de um Passaro) floated in I was caught looking. A quiet album of Brazilian music with minimal accompaniment, sung mostly in Brazilian Portuguese sometimes with only a strummed acoustic guitar.

This is a beautiful album that’s not pretty. No strings and lush arrangements. No hushed, closely miked vocals that give of the aura of bedroom intimacy. This is a major label’s nightmare—a bossa nova album that is more like a private samba hoda. You’ve been invited to stop by, Heidi leads you out to the patio. Josue Ferreira is sitting, smiling with his nylon stringed guitar across his lap. Is that legendary vocalist Cleveland Watkiss leaning against the far wall? It sure is and he quietly glows through the whole session, stepping up to duet with Heidi on two tracks. There is a piano in an adjacent room whose double doors are thrown wide open; Ivo Neame will play on a couple of tracks. Cellist Ben Davis appears as Heidi gestures for you to have a seat. Bass player Gili Lopes materializes just as the little private session starts. He plays on the first two tracks and later cannot resist joining in on the wordless take of Billy Strayhorn’s “Chelsea Bridge,” which is one of the only two non-Brazilian songs include among the 11 tracks (an interpretation of saxophonist Joe Henderson’s “Black Narcissus” is the other).

This music they make is the kind of music musicians make when they are playing for themselves. On “Dindi,” Heidi steps partially off mike. They are not going for perfection, rather this is about sincerity: the music of lovers who know and love each other, and make no attempt to impress the other. This is shameless, naked music. Nobody stops because the guitarist misses a beat or because Heidi does not quite fully hit a note. This is honest music, no do-overs, no punching in errant notes. This is what it is: music from the heart, shared love.

One way to sum up my feelings is to share Heidi’s responses during an interview:

I have this theory that when the music is really good, it touches people. It doesn’t matter what kind of audience you have, as long as there is quality and dedication, people will hear your soul.

True, I agree with that. About this album, what I wanted to tell you is that it is slightly different from my live show. I didn’t want to do my original sound yet, because if I get that wrong, I’d have messed up an album. But, with this genre of music I knew I couldn’t go wrong. If people don’t like it, they don’t like it, but I knew I’d like it. And I knew the simplicity that I wanted, I couldn’t make a mistake with that. And I don’t know if there is an audience for it because the mood is so particular but I had really nice feedback from some of the best soul, classical and jazz singers in the country. And this is not me asking “Do you like the album? do you like the album?” (Laughter) Because sometimes, you know, I do that to my friends, when I’m not sure about it. But in this case I didn’t have to!

They just came to you…

Yes, and they said it naturally. A friend of mine said that this album is so high in communication level, so intimate and direct that it goes beyond the genre of the style, that even if people don’t know this kind of music, they’ll be touched by it.

—Kalamu ya Salaam

 Heidi Vogel Mixtape Playlist

The Cinematic Orchestra Live At The Roadhouse

01 “Breathe”

02 “All That You Are”

Lagrimas De Um Passaro

03 “Inutil Paisagem”

04 “Modinha”

05 “Love Dance”

06 “Bonita”

07 “The Frog”

08 “Dindi”

After Trane, Pharoah Sanders was the tenor saxophonist who most startled me, made me rethink the sound of the saxophone and re-appreciate what could be done with the horn. Trane, of course, was the brightest light in the constellation of sounds I knew as jazz. There were many others whom I liked but none of them were a North Star, a guide to what was possible, to where we could go when we were free to go wherever we wanted to go, wherever we were capable of going; or, as we said critiquing our own limitations: we can do anything we want, the problem is can we want to do anything, do everything.

What do we really want our music to do? What do we want our lives to be? What are our wants? Pharoah is quoted in the liner notes to a Trane CD (I believe a reissue of Live In Seattle), “I was interested in other ways of playing than working on the chords”, or something like that.

Other ways. That was Pharoah. So when I heard Pharoah solo on Trane’s Meditation release, I said, whoahhh, he’s cutting Trane. I was merely reacting to the sound of Pharoah on one solo, not the full sweep of the music as composition, which was Trane’s genius. Jazz of that era was a team music and sometimes the game was won by a particularly strong contribution from someone other than the nominal leader.

To be clear, I had heard Shepp and Albert Ayler on records (and I realize that only knowing their music from records is a severe limitation), but neither of them grabbed me the way Trane, and later Pharoah did. I had to work too hard to fully appreciate Shepp, and I remember finding Ayler’s music too narrow a bandwidth; much of Albert sounded the same to me with limited variations: either fast and shrieking, or slow and tremulous; honks or exaggerated vibrato—that assessment says more about my ears than about Shepp and Ayler’s music, but that’s what I heard and didn’t hear.

So after the Trane left the station, I hopped aboard Pharoah’s express, and was blessed to be able to hear him live, many, many times over the years. One thing that really struck me was that even among my favorite Pharoah recordings (Karma, Live At The East, Thembi), none of them fully captured the intensity and emotional power of Pharoah live. Yes, Live At The East, came close but even it seemed tame compared to what one experienced in the throes of a live Pharoah Sanders concert.

I had heard the story of how one of Sander’s recordings was an un-intended second take because the first take so completely confounded the recording engineers that they botched the original session and had to request that the musicians repeat the long track again so that it could be properly captured on tape. Surely, most of us are aware that improvised music in general, and Pharoah’s music of the seventies in particular, could never be repeated. Like Dolphy said: once it’s played, it’s gone.

Capturing that gone-ness is the holy grail of jazz engineering, for the most part we get tin cups, occasionally a clean glass, rarely a crystal goblet, especially with something both so volatile and simultaneously so ephemeral as a Pharoah Sanders set.

When Deaf, Dumb and Blind (recorded July 1, 1970 in New York City) was first issued I marveled at the quarter hour take of “Let Us Go Into The House Of The Lord.” I was struck by the serious, shimmering beauty of the music, especially Cecil McBee’s singing arco bass solo. I thought that one track among the best of Pharoah’s recorded work.

Because I am unrelenting in seeking high quality jazz from the Trane and immediate post-Trane eras, over the years I have acquired a clutch of bootlegs from that period. Among the finds is a tape from a French broadcast of a concert (July 18, 1971) by Pharoah’s quintet featuring “Let Us Go Into The House Of The Lord.”

The audio quality is a bit dodgy in some parts, almost like we are listening to a cosmic broadcast and there is satellite interference at certain moments sounding sort of but not quite like static. But the music, oh, the music is heavenly including moments of intensity that can only be described as orgasmic—literal screaming and hollering and holy rolling in the throes of a release so momentous at it’s peak that all one can do is make impassioned sounds because there are no words for this feeling.

This is as close to the dangerous live Pharoah as one is liable to get from any mechanical recording. Amazingly there are no electric instruments, nor even creative use of amplification. It’s drums, percussion, acoustic bass, acoustic piano and Pharoah, although when they are full-out roaring you’ll swear there is some secret instrument juicing up the maelstrom. What it really is, is cats in tune with each other who are willing to use extra-musical elements to effect extraordinary music.

Pianist Lonnie Liston Smith in particular is demonic: his left foot holding down the sustain pedal while his left hand rumbles in the bass clef of the piano producing a tidal wave of sound akin to a stampede of bull elephants, at the same time his right hand is mining sparkling jewels of treble trills that sing and ring in the upper reaches. You can almost see the piano doing the twist as both ends of the keyboard are struck with sledgehammer strength.

When Pharoah enters his first bellowing notes are what other saxophonist might have used for a climax—at that point there is almost nothing left to do but let sounds just gush out and afterwards fall back totally exhausted. Pharoah had played the opening theme with such sensitivity and control that we are completely shocked by his short solo, which is immediately followed by a percussion fusillade that is a second coming matching and reprising the saxophone assault. By now the audience is actively participating, hollering and shouting as though they were an accompanying Pentecostal choir.

A short arco solo from Mr. McBee on bass and Pharoah then re-enters playing with the dignity of a high-bishop, or an immense black swan gliding over a placid lake at sunset. At this point the music is a prayer. For peace, for understanding, guidance and grace. And then, just like Eric said, the sounds are gone…

—Kalamu ya Salaam

Let Us Go Into The House Of The Lord Playlist

O1 Deaf, Dumb, Blind

02 Live in Nice, France

If you’re interested in classic Kwaito the CD to get is Phat Joe Presents 3650 Days Of Kwaito. (Back in May 2006 we at BoL wrote about Kwaito here.)

This week we feature a new Mixtape that revisits and updates classic Kwaito jams.

Tumi, the leader of popular South African band Tumi and the Volume, collaborates with major South African rapper, Zubz as they reinterpret old school Kwaito. I’m a fan of Tumi’s flow and his on point lyrics.

Zubz (born in Zambia, reared in Zimbabwe, and based in South Africa) is one of South Africa’s most popular rappers ever.

Interspersed throughout are snippets of South Africans talking about what Kwaito means to them and how Kwaito affected them when they first heard it.

On his website, Tumi says:

This is a mixtape Zubz and I did in 3 days. We hadn’t worked together
the whole of last yer and that felt unusual for us.

December always makes us think back to the golden era of kwaito and it hit us, do a kwaito mixtape. Our approach was not to over think the process, just do what comes and we set a three day limit for ourselves. Our engineer Instro chopped up the old school kwaito hits and we wrote 3 songs a day. We not trying to ride on anybody’s fame or glory, we just wanted to reintepret some of our favourite kwaito tunes and try and relive those magic moments, but most
importantly pay homage to the original artists.

While I’m not a big, big lover of Kwaito I do very much enjoy this outing and wish that more artists would revisit their roots and give a creative take on their sonic origins. As with most mixtapes, Where Were You? was done for the love of the music and is available from Tumi’s website as a free download.

—Kalamu ya Salaam

Where Were You? Playlist

1. Letting Go/How Does It Feel         

2. Ra Di Busa/Philly

3. Black White/Nkalakatha

4. Kortez/Kortez

5. Behind Closed Doors/Vuvuzela

6. Chepad/Chepad

7. What You Got/Mambotjie

8. Next Door/Ujole Next Door

9. Egoli/Egoli

A Paris-based, bad sister from Cameroun has done it again. We wrote about her back in June 2009 and she is about to drop a new album, Nothing For Granted, within the next month or so, but late last year she birthed a stunning Gil Scott-Heron tribute and then midwifed 8 remixes.

The tribute used Gil’s riff on “Inner City Blues” and lyrics from “I Think I’ll Call It Morning.” Had she stopped there, that would have been aplenty, but being the bad somebody she be, Sandra contacted a slew of producers and musicians and got them involved in widely varying interpretations of her original tribute.

I’m not aware of any similar tribute in terms of contemporary music. Jazz musicians do interpret and reinterpret musical tributes on the regular, and of course there are numerous cases where a brace of artists are asked to interpret different songs from the catalog of a Stevie Wonder for example (and for sure there will be an Etta James tribute album released in the months ahead), but this delving into one original song that is itself a mixture of sampling and reinterpretation, well, this is really a whole other kind of experience.

The kicker is that the whole project is available as a free download.

I’m not going to go on about what I like and what I love on the EP—you got ears (and taste), make your own choices. I’m just going to urge you to check it out. The brilliance of this release augurs well for Sandra Nkake’s upcoming new release—this will hold me til the album arrives.

—Kalamu ya Salaam

A Place For You playlist

1. A PLACE FOR YOU (GIL SCOTT HERON TRIBUTE)

2. Introducing-a-place-for-you

3. mark-de-clive-lowe

4. loik

5. dj oil

6. grant-phabao

7. dj vadim

8. jeff sharel

9. master in the words of gill scott &eq-07

Oh, and a quick trivia note: Obama crooning a few bars of Rev. Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” is part of the back story. By now, I’m sure most BoL fans have seen it, if not, go here.

Peace.

+++++++++++++++++++

I’ll never be mistaken for a sentimental fool, but given enough pressure, just like the Bible says, even the rocks will cry out. Yeah, there was a moment back in January when old stone face became misty eyed. It was inauguration day—actually, inauguration night. My wife Nia and I were in DC. I was pleased but not overly moved by Obama’s inauguration activities.

Yes, the atmosphere was really, really welcoming. Imagine a crush of humanity but without pushing and shoving. People everywhere being nice to each other. Even the police were civil—smiling and generally being helpful to everyone, regardless of who they were and what a person may have looked like. If nothing else, the day proved that people could be kind. So, I enjoyed that and will never forget the humane ambiance but the general convivial atmosphere is not what really got to me.

It was hours later. I, and millions of others, watched a magic moment and made us shake out heads in awesome wonder. Forget about the seeming impossible happening: a black man being sworn in as President of the United States of America. Don’t get me wrong, that was significant, but what really touched me was when Barack and Michelle did a slow dance as Beyoncé sang “At Last.”

The President was slow dragging with a black woman!

No, this wasn’t no ballroom dancing. See, when he dropped his right arm and locked hands around the back of Michelle’s waist, hitting that sweet spot at the top of her butt, the location euphemistically called the small of the back, and her arms were thrown up haloing his shoulders and they were cheek to cheek, breast to chest, eyes closed and the broadest grin possible plastered on each of their kissers, well, that was it. That was a truly triumphant moment. At last!

But it was also a bittersweet moment. “At Last” was a hugely appropriate song but those of us over forty knew in our bones that Etta James should have been singing rather than that chile Beyoncé—and I say “chile” with all due respect. You see, the Beyoncés of our world are where they are because of the tremendous sacrifices and un-quitting grit of people like Etta James—folks who paid dearly so that some members of the current generation could become both rich and famous.

Think about this: as famous and fortune-blessed as Beyoncé and others like her are, if you add up the balances in their banks accounts, no matter how large the total, it still comes to less than the money and acclaim stolen from their predecessors. Yeah, no matter how much Beyoncé makes, it is less than the amount that was due Etta and others, and certainly much, much less than the tokens earlier generations received.

Which all is why this week’s mixtape begins with a moan, an uneasy feeling. It’s a mighty heavy weight one has to lift to sing like Etta James.

The general thread of this focus is on Etta James as a jazz singer. There are three major phases. First is the R&B-oriented jazz sides. Second is the straight ahead jazz sides. Third is the quiet storm, smooth jazz approach. But before I break all of that down, let me wrap up this “At Last” issue.

What tends to happen in America is that history is minimized; that is, if the past is considered at all. Everybody wants the new, the latest; add to that an obsession with youth. Especially when it comes to entertainment, no old folks need apply. And seems like each decade lowers the bar on what’s considered old. Looks like today, forty is the new “old,” so you know where that leaves Los Angeles born (January 25, 1938) Jamesetta Hawkins.

What a birthday present it would have made to have Etta sing at the inaugural ball, especially since she shares a biracial background with Barack Obama. Although Rudolf “Minnesota Fats” Wanderone never acknowledged paternity, Etta says that her mother told her Fats was Etta’s father. But unlike Obama, whose white family loved and accepted him, Etta had to make it on her own.

I don’t believe the White House intended any slight of Etta James. What probably happened was the invitation was extended to Beyoncé because of her status in the entertainment industry and because Ms. Knowles had significant lobbying efforts on her behalf. The song was probably chosen after the singer and not the other way around.

Nevertheless, regardless of the absence of maliciousness, the hurt is still palpable. Can there be true success if the elders are forgotten, overlooked and generally shunted aside in our rush to consummate our arrival and assimilation into the mainstream? Those are some of the issues that stayed in my head after inauguration day.

You know, a lot of people simply are not aware of the depth and breadth of Etta James’ talent as a vocalist. Although she can throw down with the best and get more funky that almost all the rest, that’s not all she can do. Yes, she is an R&B diva, but she’s both sophisticated as well as street-wise, jazz subtle and not just blues drenched. As you listen to this mixtape, check out how often she makes the songs her own without whooping and hollering—which is not to imply that anything is wrong with shouting but which is to acknowledge there is more to making a joyful noise than screaming out your lungs.

Sometimes it’s in her pacing. Those hesitations, an occasional stutter, but also the notes she reaches that you never knew she could achieve. Then there is the subtle shifting she does in reading the lyrics, always intimating much, much more than the words literally say. You can tell from her tone that she is deeper than whoever wrote some of the lyrics. With Etta these standards are more than show tunes, more than entertainment.

Isn’t it marvelous, how she illuminates the ups and downs most of us know so well? She is not simply singing to us, she is actually singing us, laying out the deeptitude of our struggles to attain love and happiness. You want to talk that American talk, that “pursuit of life, liberty and happiness” talk, well listen to Etta James sing the shit out of the hard and soft of both the expressways and the back streets, the boulevards and the alleys. Damn, she even sings about the places where there are no roads, where you’ve got to make a way out of no way.

I love how she elevates these standards, rocketing way past elevator music into the sublimity of profound reflections on life and love in this wilderness named America. Just listen to her. Listen to how deliberately the music struts. Etta is willing to share all of her stuff every time she opens her mouth: the good of it, the bad of it, and, yes, even the ugly, all in a generally successful effort to achieve the beauty of truth telling.

What I really love about these tracks is that Etta spins these songs into something much, much more than they usually are. It’s super easy to overlook her when we consider major vocalists but I hope that this mixtape will recruit a slew of volunteers into the army of appreciators loudly singing the praises of Etta James.

A quick round-up of the mixtape.

The opening tracks represent the sound that people generally associate with Etta James: bluesy and hard hitting. Etta reaching down in that gearbox that is her larynx, double clutching and down shifting, bearing down hard as a fully loaded sixteen wheeler careening down a straight stretch off a high mountainside. The audience is as active as the band as Etta sings them into ecstasy.

And speaking of bands, on the live cuts that’s Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson (vocals, alto saxophone), Red Holloway (alto, tenor & baritone saxophones), Jack McDuff (organ), Shuggie Otis (guitar), Richard Reid (acoustic & electric bass). Paul Humphrey (drums). This is a top drawer aggregation that’s equally accomplished playing blues or playing jazz. They offer unfailing support for a singer who could get by singing with rootie-poots but who really takes off when master musicians’ provide a sonic boost. The tracks were recorded on May 30-31, 1986 at Marla’s Memory Lane Supper Club in Los Angeles.

The next set of songs are from Etta’s Grammy winning Billie Holiday tribute album, Mystery Lady. This 1994 recording won the 1995 Grammy for Best Jazz Vocal Performance. It was probably the most surprising albeit well deserved jazz Grammy ever awarded. At first, second and third glance, Billie Holiday and Etta James probably seem stylistically incompatible but the truth is always deeper than the façade.

Billie and Etta have a lot in common in terms of life experiences, social backgrounds and “all or nothing” approaches to singing. Etta’s tribute album is an absolutely profound experience.

Moreover, like Billie, Etta is at her best when she is singing with musicians who can match her expressive and heart wrenching narratives. The band is Josh Sklair (guitar); Red Holloway (saxophone); Ronnie Buttacavoli (trumpet, flugelhorn); Kraig Kilby (trombone); Cedar Walton (piano); Tony Dumas (bass); Ralph Penland (drums, percussion). The arrangements are by Cedar Walton who is an alumnus of Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers.

The third set is from my favorite of all of Etta’s albums. Time After Time picks up where Mystery Lady left off. I think the difference this time around is the presence of tenor saxophonist Eddie Harris, who was another devotee of Billie Holiday in addition to being an absolute monster technician on the saxophone. Chicago bred Eddie Harris had that heady mixture of a deep blues background buttressing a serious jazz approach.

Pianist Cedar Walton is again the musical director for an ensemble comprised of Josh Sklair (guitar); Eddie Harris, Herman Riley (tenor saxophone); Ronnie Buttacavoli (trumpet, flugelhorn); Kraig Kilby (trombone); Cedar Walton (piano); John Clayton (bass); Paul Humphrey (drums); Donto Metto James (shakers).

I’m listing the musicians because they all contributed so much to making this excellent music. Too often, they toil in the shadows, unacknowledged. Their work on these recordings deserves acclamation.

The closing set is from 1999’s Heart Of A Woman and features James’ sons Sametto and Donto providing a modern bottom to jazz-oriented standards. The musicians in the studio are Josh Sklair (acoustic & electric guitar); Bobby Murray (guitar); Red Holloway, Jimmy Z (tenor saxophone); Lee Thornburg (trumpet, flugelhorn, trombone); Tom Poole (trumpet, flugelhorn); Pete Escovedo (horns, congas, percussion); Dave Matthews (acoustic & electric pianos); Mike Finegan (Hammond B-3 organ); Sametto James (bass, drum programming); Donto James (drums, drum programming).

I’ve never been a fan of smooth jazz but without even a hint of reservation, I’m clear: I like a lot of these arrangements. They are a rather endearing hybrid held together by a mighty voice whose whispers sling more weight than most people’s hollers.

What’s delightful to me is that the song selection includes some of my favorites but they are totally re-tooled for this effort that garnered a Grammy nomination for Etta. It’s a shame that these recordings are not more widely known, which is another reason I wish Etta had been tapped for the inaugural spot.

Etta James has a veritable treasure trove of recordings that merit wider exposure and these jazz sides in particular are totally satisfying. Obviously, I have a lot more I could write about this music but knowing when to stop is often more important than figuring out how to continue.

One final thought: some of us often proclaim we wish we were alive when so-and-so was on the scene; when, for example, Billie Holiday was doing her thing. Who would not love to have had the opportunity to bask in Billie’s artistry? But, you know what? Etta James is today’s Billie Holiday.

Etta James is both a survivor and a master. Let’s honor her. The very least all of us can do is listen to her music. And, hey, Mr. President, how’s about inviting Etta to the White House.

—Kalamu ya Salaam

Etta James Mixtape Playlist

01 “Feeling Uneasy” – Come a Little Closer  (1974)

These tracks are from Blues In The Night Volume 1: The Early Show (1986)
02 “Medley: At Last / Trust Me / Sunday Kind Of Love”
03 “Lover Man (Oh Where Can You Be)”

These tracks are from Mystery Lady (Songs of Billie Holiday) (1994)
04 “I Don’t Stand A Ghost Of A Chance”
05 “You’ve Changed”
06 “How Deep Is The Ocean?”
07 “I’ll Be Seeing You”

These tracks are from Time After Time (1995)
08 “Teach Me Tonight”
09 “Time After Time”
10 “My Funny Valentine”
11 “Willow Weep For Me”
12 “Night And Day”
13 “Someone To Watch Over Me”

These tracks are from Heart Of A Woman (1999)
14 “Say It Isn’t So”
15 “My Old Flame”
16 “Good Morning Heartache”
17 “Tenderly”
18 “I Got It Bad And That Ain’t Good”
19 “You Go To My Head”

Here is number four in a projected eight or more series of Stevie Wonder compositions and covers. By now most every music lover has recognized this man’s genius, yet even those of us who lionize him sometimes don’t realize the immense breadth and depth of Stevie’s musical accomplishments.

You could throw away 50 Stevie Wonder songs and still have over half a hundred hits to go, still be working your way through unforgettable compositions. Throw away a hundred and there’s a hundred more lurking in the wings waiting on you to get back from the dump. Not that anyone would ever want to throw away even four or five Stevie songs, but shouldn’t we stop and wonder how it is that this man has turned out so much awesome music?

Some say it’s being blind gives him an edge, yet there are so many blind musicians who haven’t produced even a tenth of Stevie’s body of work, not to mention no comparison in terms of quality.

So let’s just admit we don’t know and chalk it up to a convergence of cosmic forces that, if we are lucky, happens during our lifetime and we are alive to witness the micracle. I could make a cornucopia of conjectures but all I know is one simple fact: Stevie Wonder is truly a genius of 20^th century music.

This week we feature four songs: “Another Star,” “Lately,” “Looking For Another Pure Love,” and “Overjoyed.” As always with this Stevie covers series there is a wide variety of interpretations. This time the emphasis is on jazz and soul, with a taste of Brazilian spice thrown in for good measure.

Enjoy.

—Kalamu ya Salaam

Stevie Wonder Covers Mixtape 4

“Another Star”

01 Jazzinit – Dee Daniels

02 Conception – An Interpretation – Caron Wheeler

03 Animation – Cedar Walton

04 A La Media Noche – Kaoma

05 At The Close Of A Century – Stevie Wonder

“Lately”

06 Novelas – Gal Costa

07 At The Close Of A Century – Stevie Wonder

08 Musica Preta Brasileira Ao Vivo – Sandra de Sá

“Looking For Another Pure Love”

09 Sergio Mendes – Sérgio Mendes & Brazil ’77

10 Talking Book – Stevie Wonder

11 Roberta – Roberta Flack

“Overjoyed”

12 Standard Wonder – Dave Pietro

13 Sunny – Sunny Sumter

14 All My Tomorrows – Grover Washington Jr.

15 Tales Of Wonder – Nnenna Freelon

16 Natural Wonder – Stevie Wonder