Ann Cole, "I've Got Nothing Working Now (But My Real Old Fashioned Love)" c/w "Give Me Love Or Nothing," Baton 247 (rel. 10/1957)
Ann Cole's publicity photos reveal a forbidding visage. You do not wanna mess with me, her expression exudes. She was a soul singer before soul music existed. Her style would have been big in the 1960s; in the ‘50s she managed some semi-big hits but was considered just another member of the flock of Black female vocalists that included Ruth Brown, Lavern Baker, Annisteen Allen, Tiny Topsy, Faye Adams and Dinah Washington. She was in good company but never managed to break into the big time, as did most of these other performers. Today we'll hear her second single for Baton Records, which she joined in 1955. It was her eighth single; she'd been very busy in 1954.
Born Cynthia Coleman in 1934, Ann’s first performances were in the gospel music scene. Her father led a spiritual group, The Coleman Brothers, and Ann formed The Colemanaires. They recorded for Apollo Records, among others. When Ann decided to go secular, she adopted the stage name Cole, since rhythm and blues were looked down upon by the gospel community.
Cole performed in various New York City niteries. In one club, record label owner Sol Rabinowitz caught her act, was wowed, and signed her to his newly-launched Baton Records. Cole made eight superb singles for Baton. Three became r&b hits but none cracked the pop charts. Her most sought-after recording is a song you’ve heard a million times. Every bar band in creation has done their version of “Got My Mojo Working,” which is credited to Muddy Waters. Though his became the canonical version, Waters did not write the song. It was penned by Preston “Red” Foster, a cleffer who penned material recorded by Bing Crosby and bluesman “Sticks” McGhee—there’s versatility for ya! It is “Mojo” for which he’ll be remembered; hundreds of recorded versions exist.
Rabinowitz heard a smash hit when Foster walked into his offices and played him the song. He got to Ann Cole, who loved it, learned it fast and recorded it with a red-hot band, including ace session guitarist Mickey Baker. Rabinowitz sat on the recording, for reasons unknown, and accompanied Cole as she embarked on a concert tour. Sol begged his artists not to perform unreleased material due to other artists getting an earful, learning the song and rushing out a hit-killing version. Naturally, Ann performed “Mojo” to an excited public. Sol was vexed and again pleaded with her to hold off for a spell. She didn’t.
Muddy Waters, who was part of the package tour, couldn’t help (a) hearing the song and (b) liking it. He dashed back to Chicago and got a version out as Baton released Ann’s original. Muddy canceled out Ann’s version—and, worse, had his given name of McKinley Morganfield attached to it as composer. This was the fault of the producers at Chess, who assumed anything Waters waxed was his own work. Legal actions occurred and Foster’s name was rightfully attached to the song in perpetuity, but the damage had been done: a great performance went unheard in its day.
After a pop-oriented follow-up, Cole and Foster reunited to deliver an ultimatum borne of their mutual bummer that a natural-born hit had been taken from them. (Foster, as credited songwriter, suffered little in comparison: he got royalties anytime a performer covered his songs.) A sequel was needed, and Foster imbued it with humor and gave it a positive spin. Turns out Ann didn't need her black cat bone, fortune teller or the other trappings of the mo-jo thing. The tigress in her tank has been unleashed, so nothing can stop her from gettin' some serious action.
With Mickey Baker's guitar to send it off, "I've Got Nothing Working Now (But My Real Old Fashioned Love)" is that rare follow-up that works on its own but enhances the experience of having heard the first record. My only complaint--a small cavil--is that Baker doesn't take a guitar solo on this sizzling side. No slight to the sax man who delivers a solid break; the opening twang of Mickey's gitbox is so inviting that its absence is a pity. But, y'know, the record doesn't need it; Cole's forceful, hold-my-beer attitude lights up the room and she straddles dead-serious and wild abandon in a commanding performance.
This single has become the most pricey and sought-after of Cole's Baton Records releases. DJs and influencers have gotten good reactions during playdates; this creates envy amongst other DJs and collectors. That it is deemed more valuable than “Got My Mojo Working,” which has an equally-good B-side (penned by Ann!) is puzzling, but it was the final Cole 'toughie' I at last ticked off the list (and for a bargain, I might add). And here it is for you...
"Give Me Love..." was considered the marketable A-side in 1957. Cash Box understood the obvious commercial appeal of the other side in a sober-yet-enthused write-up.
"Give Me Love or Nothing" is a pop-flavored ballad that foreshadows the early recordings of Irma Thomas for Minit Records. The song feels like an early Allen Toussaint composition, and were the rhythm more relaxed, it might pass as New Orleans material.
Sam "The Man" Taylor's sax interludes dispel that notion. This is New York r and be, baby! The song was penned by New Jersey r&b/soul artist Mark El Jackson. Baton's head honcho Sol Rabinowitz got a co-composer credit (as 'Bob Davis'); that phony name is all over the label's releases. This elegant ballad is a solid showcase for Cole's serious side and isn't on the schlocky end of '50s pop--a boundary too often crossed in the attempt for mass-market appeal.
Sam "The Man" Taylor's sax interludes dispel that notion. This is New York r and be, baby! The song was penned by New Jersey r&b/soul artist Mark El Jackson. Baton's head honcho Sol Rabinowitz got a co-composer credit (as 'Bob Davis'); that phony name is all over the label's releases. This elegant ballad is a solid showcase for Cole's serious side and isn't on the schlocky end of '50s pop--a boundary too often crossed in the attempt for mass-market appeal.
Almost a year passed until her next single appeared--her final Baton release; Rabinowitz renamed the label to Sir Records and Ann's first disc for that imprint is the killer-diller "Nobody But Me" c/w "That's Enough," which were spinned here back in the Metalogical days of this thing.
She moved to MGM, where she worked with producer-songwriter Otis Blackwell, did one single for Apollo Records under her real name of Cynthia Coleman, and then made her last single for Roulette Records. She was in a brutal car accident that left her disabled and in no shape to continue her music career. It was a bitter blow to herself and to Black music; I sometimes imagine how she might have blossomed in the soul era.
Ms. Cole lived until 1986, by which time her legend had grown amongst collectors and r&b fans. Confined to a wheelchair, she might have still performed; there were obvious complications, physical and emotional, that prevented that from happening.
She moved to MGM, where she worked with producer-songwriter Otis Blackwell, did one single for Apollo Records under her real name of Cynthia Coleman, and then made her last single for Roulette Records. She was in a brutal car accident that left her disabled and in no shape to continue her music career. It was a bitter blow to herself and to Black music; I sometimes imagine how she might have blossomed in the soul era.
Ms. Cole lived until 1986, by which time her legend had grown amongst collectors and r&b fans. Confined to a wheelchair, she might have still performed; there were obvious complications, physical and emotional, that prevented that from happening.
Her final released song, "Have Fun," tells the first-person story (as narrated by producer Richard Barrett) of a depressed woman at the end of a bad love affair. She's at a social gathering but not ready for festivities. Though she's got the blues, she encourages her friends to live it up; her day will come again. For now, she needs time to reflect and heal.
Heard in light of the singer's life, "Have Fun" is a haunting last word from one of Black music's great voices.
Heard in light of the singer's life, "Have Fun" is a haunting last word from one of Black music's great voices.
Tomorrow: your humble host begins orbit no. 63 around this goldurned globe. To celebrate, we'll have a Jukebox-centric LP: a 1961 songwriter showcase masterminded by producer/cleffer Otis Blackwell. Hear six top composers sing one of their hits and a fresh song written for the album.
Three wonderful songs! Cole could growl like a tiger and coo like a dove.
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