Billy Butler, "Right Track" c/w "Boston Monkey," OKeh 4-7245 (rel. 5/1966)
Among many shared aspects of Northern Soul favorites is lack of publicity, reviews or other promotion. All three worked against the chart success of Billy Butler's final single for OKeh Records' Chicago-based soul wind. Butler, who had been with the label since 1963, made a lateral move to Brunswick, a Decca subsidiary who cornered the market on Windy City soul and brought it to the forefront well into the 1970s.
Today's single is one of THEE big Northern Soul anthems. It was a hit in r&b: it went to #24 on those charts and was ignored by all others. Its success prompted OKeh to issue a valedictorian LP comp of Butler's best material on a typical stingy 10-track platter with a playing time under half an hour. (This was an annoying trait of all Columbia's subsidiary labels--super-short albums. Some of them are over before you sit down to listen to them!)
While the LP is a sought-after item, the single of "Right Track" still commands a significant outlay for a clean copy. By this time, OKeh was all-styrene, and they appear to have transitioned to their own factory by 1966. The pressings still lack full dynamic range, but they're sturdier than the flimsy, miserable issues of the earlier '60s. The copy I found in a seller's three-for-$10 box weekend before last looked awful, but plays with almost no surface noise, save for the "cue burn" at the start of each track. (This was done by some disc jockey back in the day; they'd run the stylus in both directions on the run-in area to leave a visual sign of where to set the tonearm. The idea was to avoid dead air and get right to the music. It leaves an awful SKRAUMPCH at record's start which gives way to comparative silence. No one is fond of cue-burns, but they're common on Black records of the era.)
These two songs are powerful examples of Chicago soul, 1966-style. Gone is the feeling of Curtis Mayfield, who helmed Butler's early OKeh 45s (and many by his more famous brother, Jerry). This is disco music of its day: a massive, persuasive dance beat, accented by strings, deep bass, horns and a soulful vocal chorus.
"Right Track," penned by Detroit stalwart John Jones, is a Black music anthem that exemplifies the hopefulness of The Great Society-era America, in which all people were considered equal. Bigotry still existed, to an appalling degree, but institutions like the 1965 Voting Rights Act and a thoughtful social safety net guaranteed a foundation of equality that was up to our government to maintain.
We are back in the dark ages, with a corrupt, cynical and seditionist Supreme Court and a neo-fascist regime (don't call it an administration) that want the Epstein Class of lawless billionaires to have free rein to destroy our country and the entire world. This powerful minority bullies us all with their money and influence. Fuck them all. This can't be said enough. Even in a music blog, which isn't supposed to be about politics.
But politics can't be avoided right now. When I hear a song like "Right Track"--so full of optimism, determination and pride of presence--it angers me that a small, cruel lot of jaded plutocrats have had their way for almost half a century, with their sole goal to destroy the hard-won progress we have made as a society and a civilization. I am not ashamed of anything except that I am an American in 2026. I despise what this country has become and regret being part of it under its present regime. I hope I will change my mind in time.
Okay. I've stepped off the soapbox. Back to the record.
This is a flawless example of the peak Chicago soul sound. Every element works in favor of the song, its message, and its delivery by the smooth-yet-forceful voice of Butler, who rivaled his brother in quality of performance. The single got zero press when released in May 1966. The album OKeh got on the racks in October 1966 received a thumbs-up review in Cash Box; by that time, Billy Butler was at Brunswick; he worked with the same producers (Carl Davis and Gerald Sims) so there was not radical change. Unknown to white listeners in the summer of '66, it was up to the Brits to give this powerful track the TLC it needed.
Today's single is one of THEE big Northern Soul anthems. It was a hit in r&b: it went to #24 on those charts and was ignored by all others. Its success prompted OKeh to issue a valedictorian LP comp of Butler's best material on a typical stingy 10-track platter with a playing time under half an hour. (This was an annoying trait of all Columbia's subsidiary labels--super-short albums. Some of them are over before you sit down to listen to them!)
While the LP is a sought-after item, the single of "Right Track" still commands a significant outlay for a clean copy. By this time, OKeh was all-styrene, and they appear to have transitioned to their own factory by 1966. The pressings still lack full dynamic range, but they're sturdier than the flimsy, miserable issues of the earlier '60s. The copy I found in a seller's three-for-$10 box weekend before last looked awful, but plays with almost no surface noise, save for the "cue burn" at the start of each track. (This was done by some disc jockey back in the day; they'd run the stylus in both directions on the run-in area to leave a visual sign of where to set the tonearm. The idea was to avoid dead air and get right to the music. It leaves an awful SKRAUMPCH at record's start which gives way to comparative silence. No one is fond of cue-burns, but they're common on Black records of the era.)
These two songs are powerful examples of Chicago soul, 1966-style. Gone is the feeling of Curtis Mayfield, who helmed Butler's early OKeh 45s (and many by his more famous brother, Jerry). This is disco music of its day: a massive, persuasive dance beat, accented by strings, deep bass, horns and a soulful vocal chorus.
"Right Track," penned by Detroit stalwart John Jones, is a Black music anthem that exemplifies the hopefulness of The Great Society-era America, in which all people were considered equal. Bigotry still existed, to an appalling degree, but institutions like the 1965 Voting Rights Act and a thoughtful social safety net guaranteed a foundation of equality that was up to our government to maintain.
We are back in the dark ages, with a corrupt, cynical and seditionist Supreme Court and a neo-fascist regime (don't call it an administration) that want the Epstein Class of lawless billionaires to have free rein to destroy our country and the entire world. This powerful minority bullies us all with their money and influence. Fuck them all. This can't be said enough. Even in a music blog, which isn't supposed to be about politics.
But politics can't be avoided right now. When I hear a song like "Right Track"--so full of optimism, determination and pride of presence--it angers me that a small, cruel lot of jaded plutocrats have had their way for almost half a century, with their sole goal to destroy the hard-won progress we have made as a society and a civilization. I am not ashamed of anything except that I am an American in 2026. I despise what this country has become and regret being part of it under its present regime. I hope I will change my mind in time.
Okay. I've stepped off the soapbox. Back to the record.
This is a flawless example of the peak Chicago soul sound. Every element works in favor of the song, its message, and its delivery by the smooth-yet-forceful voice of Butler, who rivaled his brother in quality of performance. The single got zero press when released in May 1966. The album OKeh got on the racks in October 1966 received a thumbs-up review in Cash Box; by that time, Billy Butler was at Brunswick; he worked with the same producers (Carl Davis and Gerald Sims) so there was not radical change. Unknown to white listeners in the summer of '66, it was up to the Brits to give this powerful track the TLC it needed.
On the flip is the gleeful trivia of "Boston Monkey," co-penned by OKeh soul star Major Lance and co-producer Sims. This lighter side discusses a Beantown dance-craze our man Billy is eager to master. It's dancefloor fluff, but it makes a pleasant contrast to the powerful sound and message of the A. A catchy modal riff and a delightful da-da-da chorus adds to the charm of this bright, optimistic mover. The piano that pops up mid-song puts the cherry on top of this sweet confection that I'm sure received its share of UK club spins.
I will continue to express my thoughts on the dire regime of Diaper Donnie. A change must come; otherwise America will cease to exist.
Tomorrow: celebrate Memorial Day with a Frankensingle: two early '50s sides by Little Willie Littlefield that include the 1952 original of "Kansas City." Released in 1959 by Federal Records to cash in on Wilbert Harrison's simplified hit remake.
"SKRAUMPCH" hahaha, reminds me of a Don Martin strip. These tracks sound a little ahead of the curve to my ear. Production is urprisingly dry reverb-wise...kind of in-your-face in a good way. Thanks, Frank!
ReplyDeleteAnd PS: you'll get no complaints from me regarding anti-fascist political complaints. Tell it like it is!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Dean. I appreciate your encouraging words, and I'm glad you've enjoyed the recent musical selections!
DeleteLove these! What a clear voice Butler had. Both songs have a Four Tops groove and sound but stand on their own with Butler's evocative voice. "Boston Monkey" has a bit of The Miracles' 1963 hit "MIckey's Monkey" minus its call-and response chorus and the hand clap beat.
ReplyDelete