Vinyl; Pro-Ject RM-5SE with Audio Tecnica AT440-MLa cartridge; Speedbox power supply); Creek Audio OBH-15; M-Audio Audiophile 192 Soundcard ; Adobe Audition at 32-bit float 96khz; clicks and pops removed with Click Repair (Let’s Go Crazy only, manually auditioned) and individually with Adobe Audition 3.0; resampled using iZotope RX 2 Advanced SRC and dithered with MBIT+ for 16-bit. Converted to FLAC in either Trader’s Little Helper or dBPoweramp. Tags done with Foobar 2000 and Tag and Rename.
On days like this, I sometimes post here just to keep busy.
This is really an iconic extended single for Prince. On the first side, you have the rousing anthem that persuaded rock fans like my brother that His Royal Badness was a force to be reckoned with, while on the flip side you had pure and nasty electro funk.
“Let’s Go Crazy” is celebrated for good reasons. By 1984, popular songs based around guitar riffs which were also danceable were few and far between in the almost thoroughly segregated music scene of the US, yet here was a manic message of elevators and purple banana peels urging everyone to let go and shake what the good Lord gave them. It’s Little Richard backed by Ike Turner & The Kings of Rhythm with a Juno synth and a Linn drum machine. One of the many things I like about this song is a detail that is easy to forget when I haven’t heard it for a while: the way the guitar solo in the middle is mixed lower than nearly everything else going on around it. It’s a brilliant strategy of psychological rock-warfare that must have led billions of listeners to reach for the volume knob at just the right moment. This extended mix throws in a different pentatonic minor progression with a discordant piano plonking away and a portion of the opening spoken prologue repeated, then suddenly dropping into a groove that sounds like… Minneapolis soca? There is some almost-Caribbean percussion going on in the left channel (Sheila, is that you?) that makes me imagine people celebrating más in their winter coats outside First Avenue. And as he did for most of his career, Prince manages to cover all this ground while sounding completely natural rather than self-consciously eclectic, to the point where we aren’t even surprised when we flip the record over and have our minds blown by the non-album track “Erotic City.” That’s not to say he didn’t know he was pushing all kinds of boundaries – not just by testing the limits of Reagan-era prudish hypocrisy, but musically. We have to assume the the club owner in Purple Rain wasn’t the only person who must have told Prince, after one fashion or another, “Your music makes no sense to nobody but yourself.” Well eventually even he “gets” it in the end.
“Erotic City” is noteworthy for lots of things. It is the first recorded Prince track to feature Sheila E. (unless she did in fact play the percussion on Side A but I don’t think there she is credited). Although I have not been able to bring myself to watch it yet, she apparently brought down the house at the BET awards this past weekend in a medley that opened with ‘Housequake’ and ended with this track. I plan to watch it, I just have to work myself up to it. I don’t “do” award shows, and plan to avoid some of the tribute material if possible, so I’m hoping to find just the clips of Eryka Badu, Bilal, and this medley if I can find them out there without having to suffer through the rest.
In the version that was unleashed on the world in 1984, she sings the second vocal part. She has insisted that she is actually singing “funk” and not “fuck”.. Maybe some of the time, but I find it doubtful, and that’s definitely not what Prince is singing. Anyway it didn’t stop the track from getting some airplay on R&B stations and becoming a legendary weapon in many a club DJ’s arsenal. When Prince inducted Parliament-Funkadelic into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame a few years ago, he claimed he went home and wrote this tune immediately after seeing them play a show in the early 80s. I can believe that. The electro bass groove drives things for well over a minute before any vocals come in. The guitar on this song was recorded with the tape at half-speed to give it a sped-up, hyper-space sound (if you played the 45 rpm disc at 33 and 1/3, the guitar would almost sound normal). There is additional vocal overdubbing done at half speed too, and for brief moments the mix is suddenly filled with feral, over-sexed chipmunks. This was a favorite encore number for Prince and I’m glad to be able to share it here. But don’t forget to visit the Fun With Vinyl blog where there are still a couple days left of Paisley June. DJ Ritchie there has all the extended singles you will ever want, and there are lots of them, so go have a listen!
Carmélia Alves Eu Sou O Baião Revivendo RVD 213 Released 2004
Sabiá na Gaiola (1950)with Conjunto Continental
(Hervê Cordovil – Mario Vieira) Deixei de Sofrer (1943)with Benedicto Lacerda e Seu Conjunto
(Horondino Silva – Popeye do Pandeiro) Saia de Bico (1950)with Trio Melodia and Conjunto Continental
(Traditional, arranged by João de Barro) Esta Noite Serenô (1951)from the film “Meu Destino é Pecar”
(Hervê Cordovil) Eh! Boi (1951)with Orquestra Continental
(Hervê Cordovil) Trépa no Coqueiro (1950)with Orquestra Copacabana
(Ari Kerner) Adeus, Adeus Morena (1951)with Vero e Seu Conjunto
(Manézinho Araújo, Hervê Cordovil) Maria Joana (1952)with Sivuca
(Luiz Bandeira) Carreteiro (1953)with Orquestra Continental
Piratini, Caco Velho Adeus, Maria Fulô (1951)with Jimmy Lester
Humberto Teixeira, Sivuca Cabeça Inchada (1951)with Orquestra Cotinental from the film Uma aventura no Rio
Hervê Cordovil Tic-Tac do Meu Relógio (1949) – Carmélia Alves & Quarteto de Bronze with “Fats” Elpidio e Seu Ritmo
Dunga O Baião em Paris (1951)with Vero e Seu Conjunto
Humberto Teixeira Quem Dorme no Ponto é Chauffeur (1943)with Benedicto Lacerda e Seu Conjunto
Assis Valente Eu Sou o Baião (1952) with Vero e Seu Conjunto
Humberto Teixeira Diga Que Sim (1949)with “Fats” Elpidio e Seu Ritmo
Roberto Martins, Ari Monteiro O Trem Chegou (1950)Carmélia Alves & Trio Melodia with Conjunto Continental
Hervê Cordovil Tristezas do Jeca (1952)Carmélia Alves & Trio Melodia with Bittencourt e Seu Conjunto
Angelino de Oliveira Baião da Garoa (1954)Carmélia Alves & Trio Melodia with Quinteto Continental
Hervê Cordovil, Luiz Gonzaga Trem Ô-Lá-Lá (1950)with Orquestra Copacabana
Lauro Maia, Humberto Teixeira Coração Magoado (1950)with Severinio Araújo e Sua Orquestra Tabajara
The first festa junina post of 2016 is arriving rather late to the blog, and has the audacity to feature a singer from Rio rather than the Nordeste. Don’t worry though, Carmélia Alves has her bonafides, and was known as the Queen of Baião until her death in 2012. On this collection you’ll hear her performing with Sivuca and his band, whom she is credited with having “discovered,” and the repertoire is peppered with songs penned by Humberto Teixeira and even one from Gonzaga. As you can hear above, though, she began her career as a samba singer in the mold of Carmen Miranda. With a background as a singer on the radio, in nightclubs, and as a backing vocalist for others (principally Benedicto Lacerda), her first record in 1943 was actually self-financed, with the musicians donating their time. It also featureed Elizeth Cardoso, Cyro Monteiro and Nélson Gonçalves singing backing in the coro before they were famous. All of the songs recorded at that session were sambas, and two of them are featured here. The lean years of the war meant that even major artists were not recording much, and Carmélia would not record again until 1949. She spent that time traveling with her husband Jimmy Lester (his “crooner” name, as he performed American songs at the Copacabana Palace, where they met), and performing in various Brazilian cities. When she moved back to Rio and began recording again, her repertoire included baião, rancheira, and toada numbers alongside samba, marcha, and choro. If nothing else, this Revivendo collection highlights a point that historian Bryan McCann has pointed out: in the period before the dawn of bossa nova, the baião was a tremendously popular genre and maybe even a contender for a “national” music style, rather than being relegated to a kind of regionalist musical ghetto that always seems one step away from “folklore.” Samba and MPB singers would continue to draw inspiration from baião and the other rhythms that comprise forró – Clara Nunes always made it a point to include a Northeastern number on nearly all her records from the 70s onward, for example. But those are nods to a kind of spiritual-musical ‘roots’ periodically rediscovered in that storied region. In the period on this CD, baião could still be performed by any of the popular bands or singers of the day right alongside the latest sambas, in fashionable ballrooms and adorned with pearls, without necessarily having to dress it up in the leather-hats-and-bandolier costumes of the arid northeastern backlands.
Of her sambas, there are only a few here, but they include Diga que sim from 1949, Coração magoadofrom 1950, and Deixa de sofrer and Quem dorme no ponto é chauffer, both from that first 1943 session. The latter was penned by Assis Valente and reportedly is the origin of the slang phrase derived from the title. There is the choro composition Tic-tac do meu relógio. There is the balanceio track Trépa no coqueiro, a huge hit which my friend Bertha insists is a classic but which I think could be included in a David Lynch film as a repeating theme meant to drive the audience slightly bonkers. All of these are nicely placed to add some variety to the baião and toada numbers that make up the bulk of the disc. Of these, a great deal were written for her by Hervê Cordovil, a pianist and composer from Minas Gerais whose first success with Carmélia was when she was featured performing his Cabeça inchada in the film Uma aventura no Rio in 1949. The song was quickly rerecorded by a host of other artists, and further Hervê and Carmélia pairings soon followed, including Sabiá na gaiola, which opens this set and is an homage to one of Brazil’s most colorful and iconic songbirds. You might find that some of the earlier baião numbers here, played by radio orchestras, sound rather stiff and restrained if you are used to the more flowing and freewheeling small combos from the Northeast, as found on recordings by Gonzaga or Jackson do Pandeiro. One gets the feeling that the musicians are sticking closely to their charts and playing in an idiom with which they might be somewhat unfamiliar. That makes the tracks with Sivuca here all the more special. Apparently Carmélia discovered him while performing for Rádio Jornal in Recife (a station which is still going, although it was mostly news and talk programs when I lived there), and convinced him to relocate to Rio and try his luck down there. From the first appregio runs of Maria Joana, everything sounds more relaxed, the band fast and loose, and Sivuca contributing some harmonies and regional exclamations (ôxente!). Clocking in at under 2 and 1/2 minutes, it smokes. Have a listen here, where it is followed by another and more famous track featuring Sivuca, Adeus Maria Fulô:
Adeus, Maria Fulô has had quite an interesting life. The version above is the original from 1951. (Purist gadfly commentary: note the prominent use of the electric guitar in this recording. Isn’t it great?) Carmélia and her husband spent a great deal of the 1950s and 60s performing all over the world – South and Central America, Russia, Europe, where she eventually lived for quite a long time. At some point she befriended Miriam Makeba, who she says learned to speak perfect Portuguese and rerecorded the song in 1967, having a big hit with it in South Africa and Europe. Let’s have a listen to her version:
The following year, the song also appeared as a stand-out cut on the breakthrough record by Tropicália firebrands Os Mutantes. They’ve traded in the accordion for a marimba and xylophone and deconstructed it, as they were prone to do. Here is their 1968 recording of it:
And, what the hell, one more for good measure. To come full circle, Gal Costa, once a Tropicalísta but now a respectable MPB artist, recorded a version with Sivuca for a record paying tribute to Humberto Teixeira in 2003. Here’s their respectful rerecording which contains zero actual surprises apart from some nice jazz chord inversions on the piano
Teixeira also wrote O baião em Paris, taking the genre international in song several years before they would actually start touring extensively in Europe. He also wrote the tune that ceded a title for this collection, Eu sou o baião, which is lovely (as you can here in the first playlist up at the top of the page).
If I have a complaint about this collection, it’s that it doesn’t quite do justice to Carmélia Alves’ versatility. It is understandable that Revivendo would want to focus on baião (she was the Queen, after all). But the collection is only 58 minutes long , so there is definitely room here for some more music. It would have been nice for them to include a few of Capiba’s frevos that she recorded in the early 50s, and she continued recording great samba even as she began to focus on (or be pigeonholed into) “regional music” of the Nordeste during the period covered here. Just because you can stuff a CD with 74 or 80 minutes of audio doesn’t always mean you should, but in Carmélia’s case I wish they had. Even so, this is a pretty solid collection spanning the first decade or so of her long career. Highly recommended!
Prince and The Revolution
Mountains 12″ extended remix
1986 Warner Brothers 0-20465
45 RPM 12-inch single
Alexa de Paris (4:56)
Vinyl; Pro-Ject RM-5SE with Audio Tecnica AT440-MLa cartridge; Speedbox power supply); Creek Audio OBH-15; M-Audio Audiophile 192 Soundcard ; Adobe Audition at 32-bit float 96khz; clicks and pops removed with Click Repair (manually auditioned) and individually with Adobe Audition 3.0; resampled using iZotope RX 2 Advanced SRC and dithered with MBIT+ for 16-bit. Converted to FLAC in either Trader’s Little Helper or dBPoweramp. Tags done with Foobar 2000 and Tag and Rename.
In Matt Taibi’s eulogy for Rolling Stone magazine, he mused that maybe the world had grown too angry of a place for Prince. After waking up to today’s news headlines from Orlando, and having done some work on this post over the last few days, I keep thinking about that and wondering if maybe he’s right. Who is going to write celestial tunes like this one, when we need them most?
Love will conquer if u just believe
I think I can measure how important the “Parade” album was to me by the fact that it was the last of Prince’s classic back catalog hat I listened to after his death. It’s like I had to work myself up to it. For one thing, it ended up being a swan song for this phase of Prince’s creative arc, as he dissolved The Revolution afterwards and lost a little (but not all) of the dreamy gauze of psychedelized folk-funk that took place in that unique musical alembic. As great as the music still to come would be, I recall being distinctly bummed out when I heard that he’d fired nearly everyone. “Parade” also marks the introduction of more pronounced jazz influences into Prince’s music, helped along by the presence and influence of Eric Leeds and Sheila E. There’s an art-house aesthetic going on too, with the monochromatic cover art (and film, which I didn’t see for years until after the record came out)… But let me save some of this energy for a full post on the Parade album (is that a promise? Sort of, I’m notoriously bad about keeping my promises here..) and get to talking about this single.
Co-written with Revolutionaries Wendy Melvoin & Lisa Coleman, the song “Mountains” encapsulates a lot of what I find so enchanting about the record. For whatever reason, after the news of April 21 broke, it’s the song I wanted to hear. “Sometimes It Snows In April” occurred to me instantly, but it seemed almost too obvious, and anyway I wasn’t ready to hear it yet. “Mountains” for me always embodied the warmth and transcendence that Prince & The Revolution were capable of at their best. It’s truly one for the purple hippies out there. Propelled by a Mu-Tron modulated bass riff and chugging rhythm guitar, it has an implied drone through it, which emerges fully with a tamboura-type sound at the three and 1/2 minute mark, after the bebop-inflected instrumental bridge. On live bootlegs from 86, you can hear that they would often precede the song by an extended faux-Indian drone using this synth patch. Prince plays finger cymbals on the tune. The lyrics, which can be a little hard to make out as his falsetto gets enveloped by the sonic mountains, are cryptically mystical ‘love conquers all’ stuff. In the music video he is seated cross-legged on a carpet in the middle of the band with a pair of maracas, wearing his bolero hat. At this point Prince was a master of mid-tempo funk, and this tune lopes along like some sort of troop formation marching through the valleys of Neptune for an assault on the Holy Mountain or something else suitably epic. The single immediately preceding this one from Parade was the number one smash Kiss, and the lush soundscape here contrasts sharply with that tune’s austere minimalism. In comparison this song did poorly on the charts, only reaching 23 on the Billboard Hot 100, and some fans blame that for an even worse chart performance of the next single, Anotherloverholenyohead, with some arguing that the latter is a better song and should have come first. I can see their point. From one perspective, “Anotherlover” is perhaps a more immediately engaging song, a bit more melodically and rhythmically complex than “Mountains,” and it definitely has more dynamic tension. In fact I always thought “Mountains” was the last single released from the record, maybe because it has a ‘coda’ kind of feel to it, like it should be at the end of a cycle (hell, it plays during the final credits of Under the Cherry Moon, so apparently they felt it worked as a coda too).
The extended version features Eric Leeds playing some saxophone solos worthy of the Parker Brothers (Charlie and Maceo), and some choice trumpet breaks by Atlanta Bliss. A brief, fat-tone-with-the-treble-rolled-off jazz guitar solo bubbles up out of nowhere and quickly disappears. There is some kind of wood flute piping out riffs that sound like some lost Traffic jam. Dr. Fink gets to drop a few squalls of synth leads. In all, this is one of the more interesting extended mixes in Prince’s catalog. In fact, it’s not just extended but fully remixed. Compared to the album version, this mix is a lot more robust and dynamic. (edit: Actually the vocals are a lot clearer on the album version, while this mix has more of everything else…)
From an unfinished book by Prince fan “madhouseman”:
After the original session on Saturday, November 30, 1985 at the Washington Avenue Warehouse in Minneapolis, some additional work was done on the track in Minneapolis and it was shelved until Friday, March 28, 1986, when it was edited for the 7-inch and 12-inch mixes for release (the 2nd released from PARADE). “Mountains, a song on the Parade album that I always loved which was Wendy and Lisa’s song, the horn parts on the album version are pretty sparse,’ remembered Eric Leeds. “There’s a couple of lines, but we did a 12-inch version of that which is my favorite 12-inch that Prince ever did. I think it’s a great, great performance, just the whole idea of the 12-inch. There’s nothing particularly heavy about the horns on that, but I just really like some very simple stuff. I just remember the whole thing, and just being a part of that was just really nice. I guess the horn parts in themselves don’t really stand out as being anything special, but it was just cool.“
The additional horns were overdubbed for the song on April 1, and more mixing and editing followed on April 6, 22, and 27th.
It was eventually released on May 7 1986 (single release) and the 12 inch was released on May 21.
On the flip side of this single is the instrumental Alexa de Paris which was not included on the album. For anyone who lamented the absence of any extended guitar workouts on Parade, well then here’s a tune for you. Although conditioned to expect the unexpected, I wonder how many fans anticipated an unabashed progressive rock -influenced track that sounds like it could have comfortably fit on a late-70s Genesis or Camel record. The drumming is pretty unmistakably Sheila E., with her proto-metal kick and snare fills that are, again, a little unexpected from somebody who got their start playing jazz, jazz-funk, and salsa with Herbie Hancock, George Duke, and her dad Pete Escovedo. Clare Fischer, whose understated string arrangements play a prominent role on the LP, apparently wrote charts for this entire song, but it sounds like they were only used for one brief section, settling in well like an extension of the band. There’s a flashy drum solo near the end, but sorry – no break beats in this one.
Although Alexa de Paris is a cult favorite among fans, rarely performed live, and is great fun to listen to, I’m glad it wasn’t included on the album proper. One of the things I really love about “Parade” is that, perhaps more than any other record in his back catalog, it sounds like it could have been recorded at any time in the last 30 years. In 1986, it sounded to me like the kind of thing they could have put on the Voyager satellite to introduce Earth’s civilization to our extraterrestrial neighbors. It’s an almost seamless patchwork of the past and future. I am still unsure how Prince and his engineer Susan Rogers achieved some of the sounds on the record. “Traditional” instruments often sound abstracted and processed, “synthetic” instruments sound organic and warm, and they achieve a real density to the sonic palette worthy of any of today’s avant-knob-twiddlers. And remember this was still being done on analog tape, before the days of non-destructive digital editing. Okay, I guess the Linn drums are unmistakable 80s trademarks, but they are retro-cool again so that doesn’t count. Anyway my point is that Alexa de Paris just screams mid-1980s in its aesthetic and doesn’t date as well as the Parade material.
On to more mundane things. The impetus that prompted me to finally leave Blogger was discovering a blog that a friend tipped me off to, Fun With Vinyl. My friend, like many an unfortunate soul who either ran out of space or swallowed the industry propaganda of the time, sold or gave away all of his records at some point in the 1990s. He’s been going back and finding all the extended 12″ Prince singles that he used to own. I have a handful, but truth be told, although I’m plenty OCD about music in other ways, I have never been a completest collector of any single artist (that way, there is always more to discover!). So, there is stuff on the Fun With Vinyl site that I don’t have and even things I’d never heard. I was impressed by the clean look and easy functionality of the place, struck up a new online friendship with DJ Ritchie who runs the blog, and started planning my escape from the shackles of Blogger.
Apparently every June at Fun With Vinyl has been a Paisley June for years now, with special Prince-related posts, in honor of his June 7 birthday. This year is obviously poignant, as he would have turned 58. DJ Ritchie has decided to highlight the treasure trove of 12″ singles, which include many remixes and non-album cuts, by inviting guest bloggers to post their write-ups on individual releases. It’s a great and fun idea, and there are lots of personal reminiscence and anecdotes from these bloggers – the kind of stuff I like. I highly recommend you all check it out if you’re interested.
Today I’ve opted to share my own needledrop here, because it is something I enjoy doing and I have a near minty-fresh copy of this one. I’ll probably post more of these singles from my stash, though not necessarily in the month of June, so head on over there to continue the celebration.
A You Dropped A Bomb On Me (Special Disco Mix – Long Version) (13:05)
Remix – Michael Evans
B Humpin’ (5:06)
Produced For – Lonnie Simmons Productions Published By – Total Experience Music, Inc. Mastered by Kendun Recorders / Allen Zentz Mastering, Los Angeles
Welcome to the new home of Flabbergasted Vibes!
For a long time now, I’ve considered ditching the clumsy Blogger platform and moving to WordPress, but the thought of trying to migrate so many years of content was very daunting. I finally took the plunge due to some inspiration from a blogging friend (more about him in another post, soon to come) and have been working on this in secret for the last month. There are still a few wrinkles to be ironed out, but it’s coming along pretty well.
So, hoping that you are blown away with this news, and because I’m a corny dude, I figured the first post for the new site should be an extended mix of the monster electro-funk jam You Dropped A Bomb On Me. Armed with an octave-splitting synth riff, a slamming drum beat, a couple of organ chords laying low like an ambush in the mix, some thunderous tympani rolls, and some toy laser guns they bought at Toys R Us, The Gap Band threatened to launch the funkiest World War III with this single. Many rose to the dance-off challenge thrown down by a presiding DJ in 1982 over this one. And here we have 13 glorious minutes of it, nearly 8 minutes longer than the album cut from The Gap Band IV.
Unfortunately, my copy has a tiny wobbly-warp at the tippy-top edge of the record that makes the first few seconds nearly impossible to track properly. Luckily there is no music there: it’s an intro of somebody with a Vocoder saying something about dropping a bomb on you, followed by some laughter from the band, and then an air raid siren. Through the miracle of modern technology, I was able to get most of this through wizardry. Changing the weight on my turntable tonearm so that it could mostly track this intro (there is still a tiny glitch during the Vocoder speech) unfortunately makes the needle skip once the music starts, so I got creative and did two passes on this with adjusted counter weights, and then spliced them together. Oh the things I will do for you, my beloved readers! I bet you can’t even hear the “tape splice.” If you think you can, be the first to leave the exact time code in the comments section and, if correct, you will win a prize of one $20 gift certificate to Toys ‘R Us. Unfortunately the gift certificate expired in 1982, but it’s a collectors item so that should make you happy.
Which leads to the curious bit of trivia about this single. When the Mattel toy corporation got wind that The Gap Band had bought an array of toy laser guns and rocket ships to take back to the studio and create the overdubbed “battle” sound effects that you hear in the second half of this extended mix, their marketing people hatched what seemed at the time like a mutually beneficial promotional campaign. After talks with Lonnie Simmon’s Total Experience Productions, they decided to make the experience more total by shipping the first few thousand copies of the extended single with a $20 gift certificate to America’s biggest toy retailer, Toys R Us. Mattel then released some Gap Band ray guns, boldly proclaiming “As heard on the hit song You Dropped A Bomb On Me in bright letters on the packaging, and even created a series of camouflaged action figures of the Wilson brothers, modeled on the outfits they wore in the music video.
The whole campaign ended up losing money, as most fans came into the store hoping to buy a genuine air raid siren, sales of which were of course tightly restricted during the Cold War. Disappointed, most ended up buying the electronic Simon Says game, made by Milton Bradley. Mattel’s Gap Band Action Figures are thus extremely rare and super collectible today, almost never appearing on eBay or in private auctions. Reportedly, Henry Kissinger has a full set on a bookshelf in his office. I would never have thought the repulsive little man had a funky bone in his body, but when a TV reporter asked him in 1983 what kind of music he put on to relax, he answered, “The Gap Band, that’s my jam.” It is safe to assume that this is the song that made him a lifelong fan.
In case any of you audio geeks wanted to know what one of these analog synth bomb drops look like visually, here’s a spectragram
On the flip side is another hit, Humpin’, which is from their previous album, Gap Band III — which, to confuse things, is not actually their third album (any more than IV is their fourth album), but merely their third album since teaming up with producer Lonnie Simmons and signing to Mercury/Polygram. They had also released albums on the Shelter Label and the RCA subsidiary Tattoo Records before they started numbering their releases. Does that imply that we should consider the first two albums as non-canonical? Prequels? Lore?
In any case, Humpin’ is more than a little inspired by the P-Funk empire and is as infectiously fun as ‘Bomb’. There’s no verse/chorus structure, it’s essentially all one extended chorus vamp, with delirious giggling and silly rhymes from Charlie Wilson throughout. Chair dancing is permitted, but real dancing is encouraged. Also I swear it sounds like Jimmy Castor doing the “heave.. ho” chant in the middle. It should be noted that in spite of the label stating this to be a “long version,” this appears to be the same mix as the one used for the album release.
Thankfully, unlike Toys R Us gift certificates, great music has no expiration date.* And, hey, neither do these links!
*No money was received from America’s biggest toy retailer, Toys R Us, for the writing of this post. If there had been, perhaps I wouldn’t have taken such a cheap shot at their lousy gift certificate policies.