Aside from bearing the most potentially offensive group-name and album title of any disc in my record collection, 1969’s Keem-O-Sabe LP from Philadelphia-based novelty-Funk act The Electric Indian is also one of the most well-pedigreed “weird” records I own. Made up of an assemblage of Philly-area-all-stars, including Bobby Eli and Vince Montana of MFSB and Salsoul Orchestra fame, and future Pop-star Daryl Hall, the group wasn’t dissimilar to another producer-organized project staffed by studio musicians whose claim-to-fame was a Native American-themed instrumental, Michael Viner’s Incredible Bongo Band. Though nothing on Keem-O-Sabe is as memorable, or searingly funky as “Apache,” there are plenty of danceable grooves, with lots of vaguely “Native” sounding percussion, and even a couple of hot breaks. But the grooves laid down by the musicians assembled under the Electric Indian banner are far-more reminiscent of the smoother, more soulful Funk of Motown, and there’s way more in the way of unfortunate 1960’s style “Indian” stereotyping going on.
Like many instrumental outings of the era, the album is heavy on covers, with an emphasis on chestnuts of the day such as “Spinning Wheel,” “My Cherie Amour,” “Only the Strong Survive,” “What Does it Take to Win Your Love,” “Storm Warning,” and “I Heard it Through the Grapevine.” The percussion-laden rework of Stevie Wonder’s “My Cherie Amour” is particularly attention-grabbing for it’s funky Latin-influenced rhythms that sound like they could have come directly off a classic Fania Records 7”. And their take on “I Heard it Through the Grapevine,” which turns the oft-covered ’60s staple into a smoking-hot uptempo Funk number, is a must-listen. But as interesting as the covers are, it’s the handful of originals that show off what the band was really capable of.
The title track, a riff on all the worst clichés regarding Native American music, and the old Lone Ranger theme-song, is the sort of tacky shit people didn’t think twice about back in the day. It would easily piss me off today, if it wasn’t so funky! With Motwon-esque vibes, bongos, rolling waves of bass and piano and juicy guitar licks, what could have been an embarrassing exercise in bad taste winds up making you want to get down instead. Things get even funkier on “Rain Dance,” where the Fania-reminiscent Latin vibes return, alongside a steady cowbell, soaring strings, blaring horns, and incomprehensible chorus, that calls to mind the work of Jimmy “Everything Man” Castor. And a record like this, featuring so many musicians responsible for shaping “The Sound of Philadelphia,” just wouldn’t be right if it didn’t have at least one track stamped with the signature “Philly sound,” which it has in the Vince Montana-penned “Geronimo.” A churning Funk groove, with layers of bongos and congas, a slow-strolling bassline and delirious string arrangements, that breaks in the middle and transforms into an uptempo, proto-Disco, big-band-orchestrated Soul number with tons of string and horn interplay that would make a perfect ’70s cop-show theme-song, “Geronimo” is the most ambitious composition, and the finest group performance on the album.
Yeah, the name, and the robot-Indian on the cover will probably make you shake your head and ask “what the fuck?” But the sounds on the disc itself might just make you nod your head and ask the same question for totally different reasons altogether.
-El Keter
