Clay Hammond – Women Are Human

2017 has been a year of many things. One of the major themes was around the place of women in this society, the complicity of many men (and some women, just see the recent election in Alabama) in upholding the sexist system that denies equality to more than half of the population (including all women, including trans-women, and all other LGBTQI folk marginalized in this society). #MeToo was a cultural touchstone, and might (this is the hope) mark a moment of real change in this society. Change though, is likely to be slow, and given that, perhaps it’s no surprise that Clay Hammond’s 1982 song “Women Are Human,” (something that I picked up at the DJ Shadow Storage sale in November) still remains relevant 35 years after it was recorded. Looking forward to the day when a song like this is a novelty, in a better world of full equality…one that I hope I get to see before my time is up on this crazy planet.

Jackson Heights – Since I Last Saw You

Right now it feels a bit like the image above, taken from the front cover of Jackson Heights’ 1970 album Kings Progress, as if some cosmic force is shaking up our little planet. After an extraordinary August, September left a great deal to be desired. I’ve been in such a funk over the last couple of weeks that I completely forgot about doing a Melting Pot Radio Hour for the past month. I was thinking I’d do it today and then remembered it’s already October. My mind and heart has been in a multitude of places, with friends going through troubles, folks in Mexico, PR, and elsewhere hit by a deluge of “natural” disasters, Blood in the streets of Catalunya as people try to exercise their friend, and of course there’s the ongoing fuckery in Washington…there’s a lot going on, and much of it seems monumentally bad. Times such as these can make sharing music on a website seem a bit unimportant. But of late I’ve been advocating to virtually everyone I speak to the importance of finding your joy wherever you can and fiercely defending it from negativity. So, I’ve been trying to still go out, dance as much as possible, and keep listening to and sharing music. “Since I Last Saw You,” is a track that I’ve been threatening to put onto a mix of mellow moody psych for what seems like forever. I’m hoping in sharing it, especially at this moment, that I’ll get back into the headspace necessary to see that mix through and provide a bit escape for weary ears. Time will tell, but I am an eternal optimist and I plan to stay a believer.

Duster Cat – Modern Times

I bought this record at one of the Rappcats pop-ups last year, drawn by it’s simplistic yet striking artwork and private press feel (the album was released on Q Records out of Torrance, a record label that really doesn’t seem to have put out much else. Had I dropped the needle on anything other than “Modern Times,” I likely would have passed on this album, as the music really isn’t all that good. But, “Modern Times,” is astoundingly good. The drums are superbly produced and played, and that droning bass sound along with the acoustic guitar is so good I don’t even mind the nasally/whiny vocals. While I’ve had the idea to share the record for sometime, it’s perfectly suited, personally for this present moment that I find myself in.

This might be a bit too much information, but sharing is caring, so…recently I gave up Social Media, for the second time this year. A major part of it has to do with how I feel it affects my ability to build new relationships, particularly with women. As I sometimes joke with a few friends, I often feel like my mindset and approach to the world would be better suited to the 19th century, than the 21st century. For me, the main problem with social media/modern technology is that you have this ability to peer into another person’s life and get to know all kinds of information that in a previous period of time would have required months of direct contact. This gives a false sense of connection and, at least for me, creates problematic situations and false expectations. But the conundrum is that the very thing that screws up my expectations, is the expected means through which people in our modern times connect and get to know each other. Safe to say, I just don’t agree with these “Modern Times,” but because of that, I can totally relate to the sentiment in the first verse of this song.

“I wonder where you are tonight, I wonder why I waste my time, there’s other women in the universe, but you got me half out of my mind, why must I be the only one falling in love in modern times.”

That basically sums up at least the first half of my Summer and my primary motivating reason to leave Social Media and instead to invest more of my energy and time into building connections “IRL” as the kids like to say…something I highly suggest for all of you too.

Anna Melato – Amara me

Ever since first seeing Lina Wertmüller’s “Love & Anarchy,” in May, I’ve been absolutely obsessed with this song. In the film, the song is performed by Melato at a meal for the workers at a “Casa di Tolleranza,” which I suppose would directly translate into “House of Tolerance,” but is better described as a brothel. The scene serves a purpose within the narrative, establishing the awakening of love/passion between two of the main characters. But Melato’s performance is undeniably powerful within the context of the film. Taken outside of it, in this studio recording for the soundtrack, it’s nothing sort of stunning. In some instances, with languages that I don’t speak, it can be difficult to figure out what is being said. That was not the case with this song. I knew, mainly because of the desperation in Melato’s voice that this was a death/mourning song, and once I tracked down the lyrics, I was proven absolutely right.

Marè maje e scure maje,
Tu si muorte e jè che facce,
Mo me sciatt ‘e trecce ‘n facce,
Mo m’accite ‘n goll ‘a taie,

E mare mà, mare mà,
Mare maje e scure,
Mà, scure mà, scure maje,
Mo m’accite, mo m’accite, mo m’accite ‘n goll ‘a taje,

So’ na pechera spirgiute,
lu mundune m’ha lassate,
lu guaggiuone sembr’ abbaje,
pe la fame mo s’arraje.

E marè mà, mare mà,
Mare maje e scure,
Mà, scure mà, scure maje,
Mo m’accite, mo m’accite, mo m’accite ‘n goll ‘a taje,

Je a tinè na casarielle,
Mo so sule e abbandunate,
Senza casa e senza lette,
Senza pane e companaje,

E marè mà, mare mà,
Mare maje e scure,
Mà, scure mà, scure maje,
Mo m’accite, mo m’accite, mo m’accite ‘n goll ‘a taje

E marè mà, mare mà, mare mà,
E scure mà, scure mà, scure mà,
Amor, m’accite, mo m’accite, mo m’accite, ‘n goll ‘a taje

Sung in Abruzzese, a regional dialect in Southern Italy, “Amara Me” appears to trace it’s roots back to at least the 19th century, and tells the story of a woman who has lost the one she loves and in the process has completely lost her will to live. It’s a heartrending sentiment, just by itself, but when combined with Melato’s performance it’s one of the most terrifyingly beautiful songs I’ve ever heard.

Tom Jones – Looking Out My Window

Today marks five years since the passing of Matthew Africa, one of the Bay Area’s most beloved, who died in a car accident on Labor Day, September 3, 2012. Matthew’s presence remains, for many of us who knew and loved him, with us daily. I hear it in much of the music I listen to, and I especially feel his presence when ever I spin or dance to rare funk and b-boy classics.

With this anniversary coming on a weekend, it meant that I’d be able to dance to some of the music we enjoyed while he was here, particularly during the early 2000s at the Ruby Room in Oakland, for Kitty English’s Soulvation. There are certain songs that I hear that for me are “Matthew Africa Songs.” One class of these are songs that Matthew turned me on to and that I associate with his taste. A second class of songs are ones that I know Matthew would have danced to and done his signature move, sort of like a B-boy uprock shuffle with almost punching arm movements. Whenever I hear “Quit Jivin’,” “Brand New Girl,” “I Believe In Miracles,” or “A Lover Was Born” (though with the last, I have more of my own relationship with and dance moves to go along), I can vividly picture Matthew doing his dance, which always makes my heart smile. There are also songs that combine the two, to a degree. They are songs that Matthew was connected to, and likely would have danced to, but that I never saw him dance to them.

At Funky Sole last night, I was able to pay tribute to Matthew on the dance floor, in some cases with songs (such as the Fabulous Souls “Take Me,” Harvey Scales “The Yoke,”) that were featured on his final mix, recorded just weeks before his death. But the song I probably did the “Matthew Africa” the most to last night was this one from Tom Jones. “Looking Out My Window,” is one of the harder and funkier tracks from Jones’ career, and with a well placed super heavy drum break, it’s no real surprise that it ended up on volume 4 of the classic Ultimate Breaks and Beats collection. Matthew was actually responsible for getting a digital version of the complete UBB collection for KALX Berkeley. It was one of the last things I copied from the station before moving to LA in 2007. 10 years since living in the Bay, 5 years without Matthew, with only memories to remain. But in those moments where these songs are playing, the distance between us doesn’t seem so far, and when I close my eyes on the dance floor, it’s almost like I can feel Matthew right there dancing nearby…Rest In Peace, Forever, Matthew Africa.