Ben E King Comes to Town

For reasons I can't even begin to fathom, music legend Ben E King decided to visit my local theatre last week. As a co-writer of one of the top ten highest-earning songs on the history of recorded music, Mr King, now 74, surely can't need the money.

However, I wasn't complaining. In fact, I booked tickets the moment I found out (front row, no less) and made the 10 minute journey from my front door to the theatre with pleasure. What an honour to have a genuine superstar of soul performing on my doorstep.

I reviewed the show for the local newspaper, which you can read by enlarging this image.
 

I met Mr King very briefly after the show. He was a true gentleman and signed a CD for me. Sadly, I didn't manage to pin him down long enough for an interview. Here's hoping he comes back and I get a shot second time around.

"I had Michael Jackson on my knee at 10 years old!"

One of the best things about my job is that it brings me into contact with a lot of interesting people - from Lords of the land to legends of the music industry. Last week brought me into contact with one of the latter - former Temptations singer Richard Street.

Richard, who will be 70 years old next week, is currently on an extended UK tour and will soon roll up in Essex. As such, I managed to wangle a 40-minute telephone interview to promote his upcoming gig. During our chat he told me an extremely condensed version of his life story - and it was truly inspiring.

Richard's story could have been far less inspiring. It could have been deeply tragic. In fact, he could have become Motown's answer to the Fifth Beatle - for in the early 1960s, after having been a member of Detroit vocal group The Distants for a number of years, Richard was forced to quit the band in order to help support his mother. Months after he left, the Distants were signed to Motown and rechristened the Temptations. As his former bandmates shot to fame, Richard worked in a nightclub.

But, determined not to be left behind, Richard soon found his way into Motown, invited by producer friend Norman Whitfield to join the company's quality control department. There his job was to listen to all the artists' cuts for any flaws in the recordings. If he found any, they were re-recorded. If he didn't, they were passed to Berry Gordy and the other label heads, who would decide which were worthy of release.

The job also brought Richard into contact with the label's stars, from former girlfriend Diana Ross to future King of Pop Michael Jackson, who Richard recalled mentoring and playing basketball with.

By the early 1970s, Richard had worked his way back into the Temptations, just in time to record what would become their most critically acclaimed song: triple-Grammy winner Papa Was A Rolling Stone. He and his bandmates went on to win several American Music Awards and were later inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Editing for newspapers is a ruthless business. The article has to be chopped until it fits into the space available on the page. As such, my 40-minute interview was trimmed to just 600 words. Perhaps I will upload an extended cut onto my website soon. In the meantime, though, here's the published version. Click to enlarge.

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More influential than the Beatles; Meet George Clinton

George Clinton onstage at the Indigo2, 2007
Picture: James Newman

"Do a search for the greatest rock bands of all time and you won't see mention of Parliament-Funkadelic. I know that rock critics like to fight over whether the Rolling Stones or the Beatles deserve the number one spot but in my eyes neither of them can hold a candle to what P-Funk brought to the music. As far as I'm concerned, P-Funk rocked harder than all of them combined... It's funny that the greatest rock group is always assumed to be white."André Torres - Editor-in-Chief, Wax Poetics

News of George Clinton's hospitalisation shocked music lovers around the world this week but perhaps none more so than me, for the hospitalisation came just days after I enjoyed a 75-minute interview with George, during which he seemed to be perfectly fine.

Alarm bells sounded among funk fans after Bootsy Collins reported the news on his facebook page and asked his followers to pray for George Clinton's recovery. Fortunately the hospitalisation wasn't too serious - a staph infection was discovered in George's leg as he underwent a routine check-up. He's already checked out and is now busy preparing to embark on yet another international concert tour.

The level of media interest was surprising given that George Clinton is one of the most unsung music pioneers still walking among us. Fusing the hard funk of James Brown with the psychedelic edge of Sly and the Family Stone and the blistering rock of Jimi Hendrix, George and his group Parliament-Funkadelic cultivated a groundbreaking sound.

According to Rolling Stone their output, which "[mixed] funk polyrhythms, psychedelic guitar, jazzy horns [and] vocal-group harmonies" was "some of pop's most adventurous music of the Seventies." Their unique sound ultimately laid the foundations for much of the hip-hop that now dominates the musical landscape.

Despite achieving three platinum albums, Parliament-Funkadelic never quite reached chart blockbuster status. Nonetheless, their danceable beats and affirmative lyrics resonated with a huge audience and today they're considered one of the most influential groups of the last century.

Flourishing in the early 1970s, P-Funk's music was often laced with political commentary but delivered it in a far less divisive way than 1960s protest songs like James Brown's 'Say It Loud, I'm Black And I'm Proud'. Instead the tunes often focused on music as a uniting factor. P-Funk sang of 'One Nation Under A Groove'. Music could make barriers melt away into insignificance; 'Free Your Mind And Your Ass Will Follow' read their 1970 album cover.

Even the compositions were about unity. When Bootsy Collins migrated to P-Funk from James Brown's revue he brought with him the concept of 'the one': the one-and-three beat Brown popularised during the 1960s and early 1970s. "When everybody's playing it in unison instead of harmony, it's as one," George said in 2010. "That's strong... It's in unison so it's like it'll be around forever. It's in your genes... Then we're all together as one... The entity of one as a life form - as life. One DNA. I'm for you, you for me. We for trees and we for the planet."

In a stroke of genius, Clinton devised a distinct, space-age image with which the band's music became synonymous. Dressed in otherworldly costumes and starring in comic strips on their album artwork, the group presented themselves as a band of black superheroes - an empowering and cutting edge move so far ahead of its time, in fact, that we're now halfway into 2011 and there's still never been a major movie about a black superhero (bar Hancock, in which the black superhero was an inept drunkard).

By fusing searing social commentary with radio-friendly grooves and comic book imagery, Clinton and his band were able to rail against social ills in a non-threatening way. Clinton's ideology crept past the same DJs who dropped James Brown from their playlists when he released 'Say It Loud'. 'Cosmic Slop' became a club smash, filling dancefloors all over America, despite telling the story of a woman who becomes a prostitute to feed her children.

Combining their pioneering funk-rock fusion and their distinctive visual presentation, P-Funk enjoyed enormous success as a touring act, selling out stadiums throughout the 1970s with an elaborate concert experience in which Clinton would descend in a million-dollar spaceship to bestow the gift of funk upon his audience. That spaceship - the mothership - has now been acquired by the Smithsonian.

Often dismissed as clownish figures at the height of their fame, in more recent years George Clinton and P-Funk have been acknowledged as some of the most respected and influential musicians of all time. From Prince to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers (who recruited George in 1985 to produce and write for their album 'Freaky Styley') a lot of the biggest acts to have emerged since the early 1980s have cited P-Funk as one of their greatest influences. In 1997 the group was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and in 2009 George was handed the BMI Icon Award.

P-Funk's influence on several generations of hip-hop musicians is self-evident in the number of times their music has been sampled, which runs into the thousands. In fact, P-Funk are thought to be the second most sampled act of all time, beaten only by James Brown. Academic Vladimir Gutkovich has described them as "the key predecessor of hip-hop music."

Indeed, there is a very strong argument to be made that George and P-Funk have had more impact on the contemporary musical landscape than even the Beatles. Wax Poetics editor André Torres wrote in 2006:

"While most critics want to put the holy trinity [Beatles, Stones, Zeppelin] on a pedestal, with the world domination of hip-hop culture and the large role that P-Funk has played in the sound of hip-hop, I dare say that P-Funk's impact can be felt much more strongly thirty years later than that of those three bands. When I asked Dr Dre, the quintessential post-modern producer who has changed the course of pop music three times in two decades, who he listened to growing up and was his biggest influence, he said P-Funk. Not the Beatles."

Presently, though, George is troubled. While his pioneering music continues to form the basis for so much contemporary output, he's getting the props but he's not getting the cash. Like many black musicians of his era, he was hoodwinked by the very music industry figures who were supposed to be looking out for his best interests.

George's financial problems began in the 1980s and have continued on-and-off ever since. In 2005 a court ruled that a man called Armen Boladian had forged George's signature on numerous documents in order to falsely assert ownership of some of George's masters. The masters in question were returned to George but Boladian still controls much of the P-Funk catalogue and George contests his ownership of those masters too.

George's investigations into the corporate skullduggery around him and his music have turned up what could be one of the biggest known conspiracies in the history of the music business. His losses over the last 25 years or so could total as much as $100million. Just one sample can be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars and George is one of the most sampled artists in music history. For more than two decades artists have been paying for the rights to sample his work and that money has been landing straight into other people's bank accounts. But the injustice doesn't even end there.

His albums hop labels when he's not looking. At an album signing a few years ago a fan handed him a CD he'd released on Sony and he noticed that instead of saying 'Sony' on the artwork, it said 'Westbound'. He'd never sanctioned nor profited from this apparent re-release. Somebody else was getting paid for it. There's more, too.

Type George's name into iTunes and you'll notice that a lot of his tracks show up as having been written by 'George S. Clinton'. That's not George Clinton. Every time you buy one of those tracks, somebody else gets paid for it.

During a recent trip to the US Copyright Office, arranged by Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee, George discovered documents showing that his songs had been repeatedly re-registered without his knowledge or permission, with original songwriters missing and new songwriters added.

Deceased P-Funk members' catalogues had been re-registered as though they were still alive, years after they passed away. At one point somebody went to NYC to re-register George's entire catalogue in one hit. George has even obtained a signed declaration from a man who says he was paid thousands of dollars to pretend he'd written some of George's material.

George's legal disputes are ongoing with no resolution in sight. The scale of the battle facing George is almost beyond comprehension. It could take years to unpick - meanwhile, other people continue to profit from his record sales and samples.

Outside of this troubling issue, though, George remains upbeat. At 69-years-old, he is appalled by the mere mention of retirement. He plays roughly 200 gigs every year and is horrified by the idea of stopping. He loves gigging and the proceeds allow him to pursue his often overlooked humanitarian efforts. Just last year he was involved in fundraising efforts for Haiti and donated 25% of all future P-Funk royalties to the Barrack Obama Green Charter High School in his home town of Plainfield, New Jersey.

During our interview we also covered more emotional topics. In the last year and a half he has lost his son and his mother, as well as P-Funk bandmates Garry Shider and Phelps 'Catfish' Collins. He told me how getting onstage 200 nights a year and spreading his positive message helps him to cope with the loss. He also spoke candidly about the aging process, his periods of drug abuse and checking into rehab with Sly Stone, with whom he's recently been in the studio working on new music.

There was more positive chat, too, including discussion of a planned Motown album and a flash drive in the shape of George's hand, the finger of which will plug into your home computer giving access to almost every track the group has ever recorded, including demos and live recordings.

Despite this week's health scare, George is still very much alive and kicking. He works constantly in the studio down the street from his home and is about to embark on a grueling concert tour around America and Europe. These aren't rigid, untaxing oldies gigs either. P-Funk gigs are perhaps the best value for money around. George and the band routinely play for three hours or more and the shows often consist of long improvisations. No two gigs are the same.

In the background George is relentlessly pursuing years of unpaid royalties for himself and his P-Funk collaborators as well as restored ownership of his masters. He also intends to start a legal fund for artists facing similar copyright problems and has agreed to give lessons at the Barrack Obama Green Charter High School, teaching music students how to avoid getting ripped off in the same way. So fear not, funkateers - it's going to take a lot more than a staph infection to slow him down.

For news on the publication of my interview with George Clinton, keep an eye on my blog. For details of George's upcoming gigs, click here.

(Click to enlarge)
Charles Thomson and George Clinton at the Indigo2, 2007
Picture: James Newman

2009: A Year in Review

It is difficult to know where to begin in my summary of 2009. It has been action-packed, for sure.

2009 has seen me make the surprisingly speedy transition from college student to award winning writer. Within months I made the leap from writing essays and attending lectures to penning stories for the country's biggest newspaper, being interviewed on several news channels and even contributing to a bestselling book.

It has all been a bit of a blur but in hindsight I have squeezed a lot into the last 12 months.

I have stood metres from Michael Jackson as he annouced his comeback concerts inside the O2 arena and later stood outside the arena in the rain, watching his memorial service on a giant screen. I have interviewed rappers, filmmakers and jazz musicians, then published the stories in my own magazine. I have trodden the red carpet at a London film premiere and shared a stage with Motown legends.

It has been a year of extraordinary highs and lows, the highs understandably including my press accreditation for Michael Jackson's concert announcement. Other highs included completing my graduation ceremony without falling over, walking down the red carpet at a film premiere without falling over and accepting my Guardian award without falling over.

The lowest low, of course, was the death of Michael Jackson just weeks before I was due to see him live at the O2. In a way I had never quite believed that those concerts would go ahead, but I certainly didn't think he was going to die. I remember receiving a text message from my friend James, a jovial comment along the lines of 'What has Michael gone and done now?'

As I watched the news unfold I was initially not too concerned. I suspected he had manufactured some illness or injury in an attempt to postpone or cancel his comeback shows. Behind the scenes, Jackson insiders had been speculating all along that he would 'do anything' to get out of them.

When TMZ first announced Jackson's death I was again largely dismissive, partly because blog sites had inaccurately reported his death in the past and partly because it seemed like an impossibility that Michael Jackson could be dead. For Jackson at 50 years old to join the ranks of deceased icons like Elvis Presley, James Brown and Ray Charles - it seemed implausible; far too soon.

When BBC confirmed the news, I wilted.

Less than three years previously I had seen Michael Jackson and James Brown within weeks of one another. I had seen James Brown deliver what would become his last concert on British soil in late October 2006 and I saw Michael Jackson appear at the World Music Awards in November. I never dreamed that so soon afterwards we would have lost them both.

Speaking of Mr Brown, he figured into my year quite prominently for a man who had been deceased for the best part of three years. Before that concert in October 2006 I had been invited to Brown's pre-show press conference, where he spoke to me about an album he had been recording. In the wake of his death I wondered what had become of that album; surely that was the smartest time to release it? In the aftermath of Ray Charles's death his new album posthumously soared to the top of the charts. The same happened to Luther Vandross.

As time passed, I forget about the album. Then, in early 2008 I was dispatched by the US magazine 'Wax Poetics' to interview Brown's former sideman Fred Wesley. Knowing that Wesley had contributed to Brown's lost album I asked him about it and got to thinking that there could be a story in there somewhere.

I emailed a music magazine contact, who said they were interested in a piece about the album, so I set about researching it. I contacted and interviewed everybody I could who was involved in the recording - songwriters, session musicians, core band members, backing vocalists, studio engineers, managers and more. Then I got back in touch with my music magazine source and was discovered that they had lost interest in the project. Saddled with tens of thousands of words' worth of interview transcripts, a hefty transatlantic phonebill and no outlet, my research began gathering dust.

By early 2009 I had decided that if nobody else had the imagination to publish the article, I would do it myself. I believed in the piece. I knew it was a good story and I knew it was significant; Brown is widely considered to be the most influential musician of the 20th century and my research documented a significant milestone in his recording career; his final work. I set about whittling my interview material into a coherent piece - James Brown: The Lost Album - and published it in my own magazine; JIVE.

JIVE launched in May 2009. A one-off publication, I saw it as a reduced prototype for a British answer to VIBE or Wax Poetics, covering the areas of black music ignored by the UK's mainstream music press. With Brown as its cover star, the magazine also boasted in-depth interviews with rapper Sway DaSafo and calypso legend Eddy Grant, as well as an advance preview of Zaire '74 documentary 'Soul Power' and a candid chat with jazz stalwart Digby Fairweather, who mused on why musicians so frequently fall victim to addiction and detailed his own battle with the booze.

The magazine launch was attended by none other than the legendary, Grammy Award winning music writer Cliff White, with whom I chatted at length about his memories of James Brown, George Clinton, Bernie Worrell and others.

Creatively, the magazine was a success (apart from a few typos, inexplicably undetected by the countless spellchecks I carried out - curse you, Adobe InDesign!!). Financially, however, was another story.

The magazine, like the Brown article, was a labour of love. I conducted all of the interviews, I wrote all of the articles and I undertook the vast majority of the design work. I even included some of my own photography. However, I also footed the printing costs. The magazine was distributed for free apart from a handful sold over the internet, meaning that I made a net loss somewhere in the region of £900.

Taking home a prestigious Guardian Award for my James Brown article went a long way towards cushioning the blow of the £900 deficit. I had felt disheartened when I couldn't place the James Brown piece. At the time I had felt angry that the article was overlooked - that nobody saw the same potential in the story as I did. When members of the Guardian judging panel told me it was possibly the best piece they'd ever seen, I felt vindicated in my decision to pour so much time, effort and money into researching and publishing it. I had always believed in it and it was nice to know that I wasn't the only one.

In spite of Michael Jackson's passing, 2009 was a good year for live music. A mid-summer evening spent in the company of BB King was a highlight. The aging blues man's vocals and guitar work don't betray his age whatsoever; his rendition of 'Thrill Is Gone' sounded no different to the original 1970 recording. At 83 (now 84) he seemed to have years left in him.

October offered a double helping of Motown magic. First, Gladys Knight enchanted Wembley Arena, ably supported by Tito Jackson. The pair played to an audience which included Jackson family matriarch Katherine and British pop sensation Boy George. Tito Jackson and his Bowler Boys delivered funky renditions of Jacksons classics such as Dancing Machine, Shake Your Body and This Place Hotel. Gladys Knight's followed with a plethora of hits including a gutsy delivery on Licence to Kill, performed to a backdrop of Bond title-esque flames.

Three weeks later Smokey Robinson breezed into town for the BBC's Electric Proms. I watched from the front row of the Roundhouse's standing pit as Smokey crooned his way through hits from his own back catalogue as well as songs he penned for other acts, such as the Temptations' Get Ready and My Girl. Like Ms Knight, Smokey remains on fantastic vocal form and his unique performance style sucks the audience in. During ballads such as 'Ohh Baby Baby' and 'Tracks of My Tears' Robinson paced the stage, holding eye contact with what seemed like each individual member of the front row at one time or another. As his piercing blue eyes lock onto your own, he holds you captive and his syrupy falsetto digs deep into your soul.

Smokey Robinson performs at the Camden Roundhouse

November saw a roster of Motown legends perform a week of engagements in London. Described by the Jazz Cafe's Chris Steele as 'a week of real Motown, true Motown', the line-up included several significant figures from Motown history; Mable John - the first female act signed to Motown, Chris Clark - the first white artist signed to Motown, and Thelma Houston, the first Motown artist to win a Grammy.

Supporting the line-up was none other than Jack Ashford, the legendary percussionist and last surviving member of the original Motown Rhythm Section. I interviewed Jack in January 2008 for Wax Poetics and we have remained in touch. He kindly invited me backstage during rehearsals for the Hammersmith Apollo DVD recording. As it turned out, backstage meant onstage. My friend Angela stood to the side of the stage as we watched the Supremes rehearse their set before they were joined by Mabel John, Thelma Houston, Chris Clark and Brenda Holloway. Then we watched Jack put his Funk Brothers through their paces as they rehearsed songs including Dancing In The Street.

Jack Ashford conducts his Funk Brothers during a rehearsal

Afterwards, we joined Jack in his dressing room as he was interviewed for the DVD extras and chatted with him briefly before making our way to the auditorium and taking our seats. For Motown enthusiasts there was much to enjoy; Mabel John looked and sounded sprightly at 79 as she prowled the stage during hits such as 'Same Time, Same Place', 'Able Mable' and 'Who Wouldn't Love A Man Like That'. Thelma Houston's performance of 'Don't Leave Me This Way' got the whole auditorium on its feet and Scherrie Payne's vocal performance on Supremes hit 'Stoned Love' ellicited a huge response.

I had intended to round off my live music year with Chuck Berry, but his tour was cancelled at the last minute. The official reason was that there wasn't enough preparation time, but the tour had been scheduled for months. I hear that the cancellation was actually due to a problem with the promoters.

While 2009 may have been a great year for live music, it wasn't such a great year for film. Highlights were few and far between. Much praise was heaped upon Michael Jackson's This Is It but while it was enjoyable and Jackson did seem to be on good form, the film is inherently untrustworthy. When I saw it I noticed immediately that old vocals had been dubbed into the film. The filmmakers had used obscure vocals in a bid to trick fans - for instance, using Jackson's 1991 demo version of Earth Song instead of the 1995 album track, and using a 1982 demo of Billie Jean instead of the version we all know and love. But it was dubbed nonetheless, a fact to which Sony admitted once the Sun hired audio experts to prove it.

This year's best music flick was actually 'Soul Power', Jeffrey Levy-Hinte's dazzling verite docmentary composed entirely of original footage from the Zaire '74 music festival, organised to coincide with Muhammad Ali's Rumble in the Jungle. Featuring stunning performances by artists including Bill Withers, BB King, James Brown, the Spinners and Miriam Makeba at the height of their powers, the film transports you back to 1974 and viewing it on a big screen almost felt like you were there watching it live. The film serves as a stark reminder of what soul and talent truly mean and proved a glorious antidote to today's depressing music scene.

My JIVE interview with Soul Power director Jeffrey Levy-Hinte

I was fortunate this year to find myself in possession of two tickets to the London premiere of 'The Men Who Stare at Goats', where I repeatedly walked past George Clooney but was more excited by the free popcorn and chocolate bar that awaited me in my seat. Despite a fairly poor critical reception I thought the film was solid. Brilliantly acted by a dream cast including Kevin Spacey and Jeff Bridges, the film was adapted by Jon Ronson's hilarious non-fiction book about the US Army's long obsession with teachng soldiers to harness psychic ability. Although not entirely faithful to Ronson's source material, Peter Straughan did a good job of weaving Ronson's research into a more linear narrative and I didn't feel the film was deserving of the harsh reviews that it received.

2009 will be most remembered for two major world events - the inauguration of America's first black president and the death of its biggest superstar. On a personal level, 2009 has been a good year. It hasn't been without its disappointments but on the whole it has been positive.

My new year's resolution? To make 2010 even better.