DANNY WHITE, "MY LIVING DOLL" C/W "NOTE ON THE TABLE," FRISCO 114, REL. 1965/66

Soulful Sunday saunters down to New Orleans for a late single by the great Danny White, whom we’ve not heard from in years. (I’ve been doing this for over five years now, and we’ve covered a lot of ground. Some 4,000 records have been heard via this daily feature and the podcast, which approaches its 100^th episode.)

Joseph Daniel White was born in 1931 in New Orleans. After serving in the military, he launched on a musical career in his 20s. He fared well as a headline attraction for the city’s Golden Cadillac and Sho Bar nightclubs. His local popularity never quite translated into national fame, despite a series of fine singles. He made his vinyl debut on the Dot label in 1961, with a pair of recording made in the Crescent City. He then signed with the Frisco label, a smaller New Orleans imprint that lasted for 20-ish releases over a four-year period. White was the label’s prime ingredient with six singles—a large percentage of a small catalog.

The label was formed by former Bay Area resident Connie LaRocca, one of the few female figures in Crescent City recording. She moved to New Orleans after WWII and began to frequent the city’s clubs and roadhouses. There, she fell in love with the burgeoning rhythm and blues scene. She became friends with many of the performers, and vocalist Tommy Ridgely suggested she become an agent. She teamed up with disc jockey and performer Hal Atkins. After some success booking name performers to NOLA shows, the two sensed there was more talent in the city than Joe Banashak’s two labels could handle.

Frisco got its start with a single by Atkins under the alias ‘Al Adams’ that had been recorded for another indie imprint.

Frisco’s sessions were supervised by Cosimo Matassa, like so many local recordings of the 1950s and ‘60s. Matassa’s studio defines the New Orleans sound in this golden era of r&b/soul. White thus got to work with Allen Toussaint and his talent pool of studio musicians, which included Nat Perrilliat (saxophone), Roy Montrell (rhythm guitar), Chuck Badie (string bass), John Bordreaux and James Black (drums), David and Melvin Lastie (tenor sax and cornet), Alvin “Red” Tyler (tenor and baritone sax), Clarence Ford (baritone sax) and Richard Payne (electric bass).

These musicians’ names never appeared on the labels of Minit or Instant singles. They comprised one of the finest backup groups in all of rhythm and blues-fierce competition for Motown’s Funk Brothers or Muscle Shoals’ Rhythm Section in every aspect. The Toussaint crew never acquired a nickname, but left a major mark on a body of great recordings.

By the time of today’s 45, released sometime in late 1965 to early ’66, Frisco was near its end of days and outside talent worked with the label. Both sides of today’s 45 were penned By Isaac Hayes and David Porter. Though the producer credit is to LaRocca Productions, it’s likely this is a Hayes/Porter recording; they’re listed as arrangers on the label.

They understood that White’s forte were atmospheric, sometimes eerie songs and heartbreak ballads, and they delivered both. “My Living Doll” is of the former breed. It has some of the mood of The Flamingos’ 1959 smash “I Only Have Eyes for You,” shot through with the lazy, fatalistic vibe of Stax soul. Against wailing background voices and muted, tense horns, White delivers an ode to a woman he’s fortunate enough to call his own.

Things get het up well on the song’s bridge, which sheds all pretensions of a New Orleans sound and surrenders to the Memphis approach—to spectacular approach. White remains one of my favorite soul vocalists, and his performance here is riveting.

The title “Note on the Table” tells you something’s wrong right off the bat. Yep; breakfast is ruined for our man Danny when he finds said slip of paper amidst yesterday’s crumbs. This is a formulaic song compared to its other side, but White’s performance makes it something special. His accusatory tone brings passion and force to a stock scenario; the arrangement makes it all seem like a happy event. Since we don’t know the full story, perhaps it is. Perhaps White is free to enjoy life, rather than live in constant suspense and suspicion.

This was Danny White’s farewell to Frisco. As such, it was unpublicized, failed and got limited distribution. He continued to work with Porter and Hayes for one last single, and then drifted from label to label, chocking up a pile of sought-after deep-soul rarities into the 1970s. White’s main income came from his performances in the various New Orleans nightspots that attracted tourists and left behind many fond memories from those who caught his live act—he was quite the showman.

Ace’s Kent imprint put out an excellent CD compilation of White’s classic material 20-odd years ago; long deleted, the disc is as spendy now as some of Danny’s in-demand deep-soul item. Ripe for reissue, I’d say!

Tomorrow: intense popcorn-r&b from Ronnie Savoy, via a mega-obscure 1962 Epic Records single retrieved from a seller’s quarter bin.