Ruth Brown Sings EP, Atlantic Extended Play no. 505 (1949-1953; rel. 1953)
By 1953, Ruth Brown was the hottest solo female singer in rhythm and blues. Her Atlantic singles, on 10-inch shellac and skip-prone 7-inch vinyl, were iconic recordings of their day to the Black community. A handful of white fans, some who also admired modern jazz, joined the demographic, but the vast majority of white America were "Ruth who?" Post-war popular (white) music was a dire affair, stuck in a permanent purgatory like the proverbial fly in amber.
Precision, predetermination and lack of spontanaeity render many a pop recording of 1946-54 as bland to our ears, seven or eight decades later. Skilled musicians and vocalists made these recordings; they suffer from a stasis of form and from their unyielding Caucasianity. Not all of it can be dismissed, but rare is a pop recording of this period that elicits a strong emotional reaction. Its intention to not shock, challenge or intrigue the listener doomed it to be ineffective. A certain smugness had set in; any record Frankie Laine, Doris Day, Nat "King" Cole or The Four Lads released would be popular with the public, get played everywhere and sit on the charts until the next release, much like its predecessor, repeated the formula.
There's no risk in this music. Some big bands cottoned to the new sounds in jazz and made an effort to incorporate its different harmonic approaches; they were novel to ears hardened during wartime to the three-chord ditties and trivial novelties that pushed a traumatized America through a grueling era of do or die. Instrumental pop, though too slick and self-assured, did tease at new horizons in music. Not enough to make a major difference, but effort was made.
At war's end, Black music was also stuck in a holding pattern. Through modern jazz, Black vocal groups emerged. They broke with the traditional style of The Ink Spots or The Mills Brothers, who were Black music for white audiences in essence. Groups such as The Ravens took their cue from the fresher sound of what would be called be-bop. Their recordings weren't in that style, but it informed the path they chose. The same was true of solo performers; their roots were in pre-war jazz; as that music changed, the singers' approaches became cool, detached and understated--perhaps to a fault. Charles Brown, solo vocalist and pianist, exuded a weary, relaxed vibe that was hip; he didn't sob or wail--his blues were quiet, introverted and resigned.
1951 was a year of vibrant change for Black music. Vocal groups, such as The Clovers and "5" Royales, became bluesier, more forceful and strived for an up-to-date sound. These combos relied much less on a large orchestra; they worked best with a quartet, and featured a strong drumbeat. Some of the early post-war cool is present in The Clovers' "One Mint Julep" and The Royales' "Too Much of a Little Bit;" both are songs about the after-effects of living it up, which has comical consequences in each narrative.
Ruth Brown was one of a small group of forward-thinking female soloists who focused on songs that their audience could embrace, relate to and laugh (or cry) over. Song by song, record by record, she and her arrangers and producers shed the trappings of jazz and focused on an urgent, hard-hitting sound that sold records and got airplay and jukebox spins.
On today's extended play disc, we can trace the evolution of an iconic performer's style--from a 1949 performance in the quieter big-band style to her tambourine-whacking, electric guitar-riffing most recent #1 hit.
All four songs were major r&b charters, but unfamiliar to the white world outside this musical bubble. You might know one of these sides, but chances are high they're all new to your ears.
I bought this with the proviso that it might skip at least once. Pre-1955 Atlantic 45s are hyper-susceptible to skipping or repeat loops. Almost every yellow-label Atlantic disc I've found has a skip or loop on it somewhere, no matter how clean its surface appears. It's always a risk to buy a pre-'55 Atlantic release, but the music is so good I'm still willing to give it a go.
To my pleasure and surprise, this 1953 EP, still in its be-bop style cardboard picture sleeve, plays just fine. It's mastered too low, as are many early microgroove records, but it's mastered for the right format. Atlantic was one of the first labels to go microgroove for their 45s rather than re-use the wider grooved 78-rpm masters. Those records, played on modern equipment, have a loud hiss caused by the differential of the fat grooves. The skinny stylus has too much information and, as tinnitus does to the human ear, fills in the missing pieces with feedback.
The first side of this EP offers two songs penned by Rudolph Toombs, one of the top Black songwriters in early rhythm and blues. "Teardrops from My Eyes" was first issued on Atlantic's first 45-rpm disc (catalog no. 901) in January 1951. Said disc was styrene; this second issue, on real vinyl, may sound better. The original '51 45 is quite rare and spendy. Its sound bridges that of a vocalist in front of a jazz band and the tighter, more intimate sound that would soon embody rhythm and blues. The larger band (likely Joe Morris' orchestra) competes with Brown's vocal in a manner that her later sides wouldn't. The constant grunting and muttering of the band is surplus to the song's effect; it's great when sax man Budd Johnson takes a solo, but all the busywork during the vocal is a lot to take in.
More up-to-date r&b sounds are heard on "5-10-15 Hours," with a harder-edged arrangement and drumbeat. The jazz influence remains; the sax solo by Willis "Gator" Jackson is more be-bop than big band. The song is a solid bluesy wailer that Ms. Brown embraces. She'd been reluctant to record "Teardrops from My Eyes" several months earlier. She found it hard to transition from a band singer who specialized in ballads. Producer Ahmet Ertegun insisted she give it a go, and with some effort, she delivered a #1 hit.
She's much more at home with blues material here, and the band is dialed back enough for her for shine. We're witnessing the evolution of rhythm and blues in its pivotal year on these two tracks.
Side Two starts with her most recent hit at the time of release. Drumbeat and tambourine, plus Mickey Baker's guitar, kick off "(Mama) He Treats Your Daughter Mean," penned by Johnny Wallace and Herb Lance. The latter said he heard a street singer in Georgia perform a song with the title as one of its phrase. He didn't know what the song was, but the line stuck with him.
Brown was again reluctant to record the song; when the tempo was upped a bit, it clicked with the singer and she turned in a colorful, forceful performance that sent this single sailing up the r&b charts. This time, the song held appeal to the (white) pop mainstream; it got into the Top 30 in 1953--a harbinger of music's future. The song didn't get a white cover version to compete with Brown's original. In 1954, white artists began to record Black r&b material, as record labels sensed a growing threat to the status quo and tried this tactic to slow its spread into the mainstream. Didn't work!
The final track is Brown's debut disc, "So Long," released on 78-rpm in 1949. This was its first appearance in the new microgroove format; it was put on Brown's 1957 compilation Rock 'n' Roll, which contains all four sides of this EP plus 10 other early successes.
Rock 'n' roll this is not. A slow, mellow jazz ballad, it sounds like Duke Ellington's late 1930s sides. The band is reserved and in quiet support of Brown's vocal as she delivers a passionate torch song that epitomizes where Black music was before WWII. In 1949, this was a retro sound, but Black music, too, held onto old, comfortable styles. Some modern-jazz harmonies creep into the mostly chordal support of the orchestra. It's a fine ballad, and an apt closing track for this survey of an important blues singer's early successes.
Ruth Brown would rule Atlantic's r&b roost, alongside Lavern Baker, through 1959, when her hits dried up. Public taste shifted, and the quality of Brown's work had suffered. Atlantic tried to mold her into a pop singer with such misfires as "Lucky Lips," my least favorite song by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. This got her second pop hit, again Top 30, and it should have proved this wasn't a viable direction for her. But Atlantic persisted, and when their ploy failed, they let her founder. She left the label after her 1961 single "Anyone But You," which was produced by Phil Spector.
Her new label, Philips, didn't know what to do with her. Two singles got to #99 and 97 and she moved on, never to have a hit record again despite her obvious talent and audience appeal. She left music in the late 1960s. At the urging of comedian Redd Foxx, Brown returned to the spotlight in the mid-1970s and was a regular on the TV sitcom Hello, Larry. Filmmaker John Waters cast her in his original version of Hairspray, and her performance and character are a highlight of this delightful film.
Brown used her new status to champion performers' rights. Her efforts led to the formation of The Rhythm and Blues Foundation in 1988. This nonprofit has done much to help veteran performers recoup unpaid royalties and rights and preserve the rich history of Black music. Ms. Brown was among the first recipients of their annual Pioneer Award in 1989.
She continued to work as a vocalist and actress to her last days. Her final project was John Sayles' film Honeydripper; she died during its production and is not in the finished release. A song she recorded for its soundtrack is heard. She was 78 when she passed on.
Tomorrow: The 3° Degrees deliver a Northern Soul barnstormer, coupled with a version of a Chantels classic, on a 1965 Swan Records single produced by the great Richard Barrett.
All of these are fabulous! It's cool to hear these new sounds from that early post WWII time. What a great emotive voice she has on these well-written songs.
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