In the 1960s, vibist Johnny Lytle was arguably the Milt Jackson of soul-jazz – or perhaps the Cal Tjader of soul-jazz. Jackson and Tjader both influenced his vibraphone playing, as did Lionel Hampton. But Lytle had a recognizable sound of his own – one that proved to be perfect for soul-jazz and organ combos. Two of the fine soul-jazz/hard bop LPs that the vibist recorded in the early '60s were Got That Feeling! (Riverside) and Moon Child (Jazzland), both of which Milestone/Fantasy reissued back to back on this 75-minute CD in 2001.
Davies' third album finds this artist moving in a much more "pop" direction, proving that she can both stretch her wings artistically and has far more to offer than merely recycled riffs and motifs filtered through a women's perspective. Her social consciousness raising quickly comes up for air on the opening track, "Howlin' At The Moon," one of only three Davies originals aboard this outing. But her interpretations of gospel pop ballad material like Lenny McDaniel's beautiful "Tired Angels," and duets with Coco Montoya on Albert Collins' title track and Tab Benoit on "Let The Heartaches Begin" are every bit as strong, her vocal skills showing more maturity and assuredness with each album. Her solo work is spot on, always paying homage to a wide variety of stylistic lessons well learned and solidly in the blues pocket with no added rock affectations to bog it down.
Two lost smokers from vibes legend Johnny Lytle – back to back on a single CD! The Soulful Rebel is lost early 70s set from Lytle – totally funky, but in a way that's very different than his famous 60s work! The album's got a sweet electric groove that comes not only from Johnny's vibes, but also from the sweet Hammond and Fender Rhodes of Billy Nunn, and the smoking guitar of David Spinozza – who really wails away here, and brings in a cutting edge to the tunes that's a lot sharper than some of his later work! Lytle's vibes are wonderful throughout – filled with that sense of space, soul, and timing that's always made him one of the grooviest players ever on the instrument – and this time around, he seems to have an even greater ear for unusual tones – in a way that makes the album sparkle strongly throughout!
If you're talking about packaging, the flaws of this disc are considerable. Comprised of 14 songs from 1960-1990 (most from 1960-71), the unifying theme is that all of them are taking from Houston recording sessions. But while recording dates and some personnel are noted, the original labels and dates of release are not. Furthermore, although the liner notes give a reasonable overview of Copeland's career, the tracks on this specific compilation are not discussed. And, putting the boot in, the cuts are not sequenced chronologically, but arranged almost as if someone had pressed the random button on a CD remote……..
With dazzling wit and astonishing insight, Bill Bryson – the acclaimed author of The Lost Continent – brilliantly explores the remarkable history, eccentricities, resilience, and sheer fun of the English language. From the first descent of the larynx into the throat (why you can talk but your dog can't) to the fine lost art of swearing, Bryson tells the fascinating, often uproarious story of an inadequate, second-rate tongue of peasants that developed into one of the world's largest growth industries.
2 acclaimed albums from the Producer, writer, arranger, engineer & multi instrumentalist Boris Midney whose richly textured soundscape’s can be enjoyed equally at home or on the dance floor.
Reissue features the latest DSD remastering and HR cutting. Also features the high-fidelity SHM-CD format (compatible with standard CD players). An excellent piece of early soul-jazz, 1960's Talk That Talk isn't as bop-oriented as Shirley Scott's albums with Stanley Turrentine from the same period, as flashy and ornate as the albums Jimmy Smith was starting to make with Creed Taylor and Lalo Schifrin, or as funky and blues-based as the best of Jimmy McGriff or "Brother" Jack McDuff. Smith's playing on this album is low-key almost to the point of being conservative, deeply soulful without resorting to what would soon become tired funk clichés.