Blogarhythms

At the start of the week I mentioned that Summer vacation was over for the children in my city and they were (loudly) returning to school. A day or so after that I listed some of the musical minutia I happen to count myself devoted to, bass being among them. So why not end the week with with a listening session for an album that happens to combine both?

Flipping through the records leaning against the leg of my desk this morning I caught a glimpse of an album that’s been languishing there collecting dust for months. But when I saw the familiar cover, and the title School Days I knew it was finally time to give it the Records at Random treatment. That it just so happens to be landmark album in the career of Stanley Clarke, an acclaimed bass player, was just the icing on the cupcake.

Oh yeah, I actually did get some cupcakes (thanks to m. Cody) after yesterday’s snack attack. But I digress…

When I was young enough to be worried about going back to school myself I really didn’t know what to make of Stanley Clarke. I knew he was a “Jazz guy.” But his commercial leanings gave me reason to put him in the “Cool Jazz” category. And while I may have loved John Singleton’s Boyz N the Hood I can’t say I was enthused about Clarke’s score as I was the Hip-Hop-laden soundtrack at that time. Of course I wasn’t up on his back-story, such as his membership in pioneering Jazz-Fusion group Return to Forever, or on his crate-digable output from the ’70s yet.

Over the ensuing years Clarke has continued to work in the realm of cinema and broadcasting, scoring a slew of films and a handful of television series. And for the most part I remained largely ambivalent to his output. Sure, I fell in love with his crate classics like “Concerto for Jazz/Rock Orchestra,” got down with Return to Forever and noted when his name turned up in the credits of some of my favorite Jazz-Fusion and Funky-Jazz albums (like Deodato’s Prelude for example) over the years. I admire his skills on the strings and respect his legacy. But I can’t say I ever considered myself a fan.

That said, it was sort of inexplicable that I even bought School Days. Released in 1976, it came on the cusp of the era I traditionally set as my cut-off point for beat-digging and dusty groove-spinning. Ya know, by that point everybody and their mother was moving away from funky fusion towards watered-down Disco and slick “Lite Jazz,” which isn’t usually my flavor. And the cover, a painting of Clarke spray-painting music scales on a subway wall was a little too cute for it’s own good. But I guess I was just in the record buying mood and it was in the dollar bin so I gave it a chance.

I’m aware that it was in some ways Clarke’s “breakthrough” album which heralded his entrance into more explicitly commercial territory and is lauded by some as a document of Jazz bass virtuosity. But other than a casual spin or two School Days never really gained a spot in my regular listening rotation or in my “dusty” sets. It’s just as polished as I thought it’d be; only a few angular riffs, fiery solos, proggy synths and tempo or time-signature changes away from being “Smooth Jazz.” And there are signs of Disco and “easy listening” aplenty.

Granted, it probably didn’t seem as calculated and commercial at the time it was being recorded. Clarke and company (Steve Gadd, George Duke and Billy Cobham all contribute) get pretty wild with their plucking, slapping strumming, shredding, knob twiddling and skin-smacking. The rhythms are all over the place. And there are a lot of things it shares in common with go-to fusionists like Weather Report or even that Shannon Jackson record I profiled a while back.

The title track for example features multiple changes. There’s the main riff that translates the simplicity of the Blues into proto-New Wave (when I put the record on this morning my turntable was set to 45RPMs and I did a double take because it sounded so much like a Punk record at that speed) mechanization. A Disco stomp accented with Arena-Rock fills and screeching guitar soloing. A delicate lullaby-like break reminiscent of my favorite passage from “Concerto for Jazz/Rock Orchestra” (the ascending bass figure pops up a few times throughout). A smooth section dominated by piano and synth melody that prefigures Joe Jackson’s “Stepping Out” and Pepe Bradock’s “Deep Burn,” even though that joint sampled a totally different record altogether. And then it ends, like a dream, with chimes and gentle humming.

The wheezy melody on “Quiet Afternoon” reminds me way too much of Maria Muldaur’s Top-40 chestnut “Midnight at the Oasis.” The Carnivàle atmosphere on “The Dancer” is a little too “world music” for my tastes.  And “Hot Fun” strikes me as a manic extension of the titular jam.  But the wholly acoustic “Desert Song” is deftly composed and orchestrated, even if it is ponderously paced.  And “Life Is Just a Game,” with it’s dramatically soulful Earth Wind & Fire-style introduction, works despite its amounting to a nine-minute multi-movement Pop ballad with abstract aspirations.

The kids (loudly) filtering into the school across the street from my building right now probably wouldn’t be able to sit through this. But they probably wouldn’t be willing to sit through anything that doesn’t have a Lil Wayne guest-verse on it anyway, so whatever. It’s got plenty of bass, which is good enough for me. And there might even be some sample-fodder to be found on it yet.

Ahhh, homework…