THE CHALLENGERS III; "Every Day" c/w "I Hear an Echo" (Tri-Phi 1020, rel. January 1963)
Ann Bogan, whose dynamic voice we recently heard in a duet with Harvey Fuqua, was also part of a Detroit girl group called The Challengers III. I’m curious to know what they were challenging. The status quo, perhaps? The existence of The Poni-Tails? We shall never know for certain.
Their first 45 on the Tri-Phi label, “Honey, Honey”/“Stay,” is easy to find. The second, which we’ll hear today, not so much. I happened upon a low-priced copy for sale on eBay in one of those nice and easy Buy it Now affairs. (I do not bid on records any longer. There are too many loons with deeper pockets than I who are addicted to the questionable thrills of the auction format. I’m done with that; it’s a huge waste of time.) While I like the first single by this group, I ***love*** this follow-up, which was ignored when issued at the start of 1963. The world missed out on a pair of superb performances and one of the most haunting B-sides ever recorded.
“Every Day” was penned by Ms. Bogan and has a light-yet-gritty sound that’s ideal. A flute kicks it off and continues its gentle hoot throughout, accompanied by a nimble guitar and that Afro-Cuban percussion sound so endemic of Detroit. And, oh yes, there’s that superb wailin’ vocal stand by Ann and her comrades. It’s really Bogan’s show on a performance that, were it released on a Motown label, would be well-known and hailed as a great record. Instead, it’s an open secret just sitting there to be discovered if one looks beyond the fetishism of record labels and opens one’s ears to this optimistic delight.
https://mega.nz/file/yhRkmYjL#dKYIj8PA4lSD75IY1zUMVMNdUiP8vFR-wCkHTlkATBc
A great A-side. But the B is something special. “I Hear an Echo,” co-cleffed by Bogan, Harvey Fuqua and Eddie Coleman, Jr., is a soul ballad of an eeriness and wonder that rarely turns up. This minor-keyed mood piece has Bogan’s incomparable voice accompanied by either a Hohner Melodica (a harmonica with a keyboard) or an accordion—which would be a rare appearance for that whitest of instruments in Black music. Its tones are reedy and more doleful, which sounds most like the Melodica. Its sound is a fascinating contrast to Ann’s full-voiced, commanding performance of a song about a lover who’s out there somewhere. Said amour may or may not be real, but Ann is devoted to its existence, and the image of her singing to a windswept twilight is evoked with rare beauty. Bogan’s voice, and the song’s evocative imagery, reaches out across six decades to grip the listener. No one cared in 1963; I hope someone cares now.
https://mega.nz/file/P8wlDB5B#hHv5qD52k3j4HdBbZ-K2e_ju1jgzh0zAqzBterKxMxY
Ann Bogan deserves more
recognition for her fine body of recorded work.
We'll see if Futzbook is less futzy tomorrow. New podcast on Friday!
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