Eccentric Soul: The Tragar & Note Labels
[Numero Group; 2008]
by Joe Tangari
August 22, 2008
By 1968, Jesse J. Jones, Jr. was a seasoned veteran of the music
business. He started out at 17, touring with Jimmy Witherspoon in
1948, formed his own band in 1949, and ruled the Atlanta club scene
until he broke for L.A. in 1956. He also gave a young saxophonist
named Ornette Coleman one of his earliest gigs. In L.A., Jones worked
for Specialty Records, cut a few sides for Ebb and launched his first
two labels, Lita and Four-J. It was the failure of the second imprint
that cost him his home and sent him back to Atlanta.
Despite being at the very heart of the chitlin' circuit, Atlanta had
a relatively small independent soul scene. One of the biggest
obstacles to establishing a productive black record industry in the
city was a the lack of a studio that catered to it. There was no
Motown, no Vee-Jay, no Chess, no Stax, no Revilot-- no one had
established a bedrock label to fuel a scene that had ample live
venues at its disposable. And so Jones set up shop, pulling together
the best band he could, securing financial backing, and booking time
at the National Recording Company studio, which until then had
specialized in country music.
The first few Tragar singles were good examples of music succeeding
(artistically, not commercially) on the strength of passion and
songwriting rather than studio expertise. Barbara "Tokay" Lewis
penned and sang the A- and B-sides of Tragar's inaugural single; the
B-side, "What Can the Matter Be", is where her magic can be heard--
it's a waltz-time deep soul burner stuffed with blistering blues
guitar and topped with a righteously dejected vocal. Even as the
label grew from the ground up, its first two years produced an
amazing clutch of great music that neatly straddles the line between
smoky Southern soul and the sophisticated arrangements that adorned
the crossover sound of the North.
Numero Group's enormous 2xCD, 50-track retrospective of Tragar and
its successor, Note, focuses mainly on 1968 and 1969, devoting all of
Disc One and two-fifths of Disc Two to those years. Good thing, too,
because the labels' diverse cuts rivaled the best contemporary soul
of the time. Franciene Thomas' "Too Beautiful to Be Good" is a
stunning ballad with a billowing, sorrowful melody; L. Daniels'
"Nitecap" is a fantastic, funky instrumental led by a big, Broadway
sax; Sandy Gaye wails like a woman possessed on the burbling workout
"Watch the Dog That Bring the Bone"; and Chuck Wilder does justice to
the time-worn sad clown theme on "The Clown", a dejected, dramatic,
and even somewhat psychedelic slow-burner with a string part
descended from "It's a Man's Man's Man's World". A couple of male
vocal duos turn in exemplary cuts as well: Frankie & Robert channel
Sam & Dave on "Sweet Thing", backed by a horn part to match, while
Langston & French's "Tumbling Down" is its morose but sweetly soulful
antithesis.
The greatest discovery of Tragar's early phase, though, was Eula
Cooper, who was only 14 when she had her first impromptu audition for
Jones, walking into his office at 799 ½ Hunter St. and singing her
own "Shake Daddy Shake" for him. Cooper has 11 songs on this
compilation, and she's the epitome of the talented should-have-been.
"Shake Daddy Shake" was certainly good for a 14-year-old, and it
charted locally, but it was a warm-up. Her adept and sensitive
reading of the Holland/Dozier/Holland chestnut "Love (Makes Me Do
Foolish Things)", recorded one year later, is a stunner, but it pales
next to her original "Try", a sweeping, uptown soul number with a
great vibraphone melody and mature vocal. Cooper continued to record
for Jones throughout the early 70s, but she never achieved more than
a local hit. "Beggars Can't Be Choosey", from 1973, is a fine
pop-soul tune, and "Let Our Love Grow Higher", recorded at Muscle
Shoals, has a brilliant rhythm track and sharp bounce that was
diverted from the charts by lack of promotion.
As Jones soldiered on until financial ruin in the 70s, the sounds he
was making echoed larger national trends, smoothing out and flirting
with the rise of disco. A few of these are outstanding-- especially
the Young Divines' "Ain't That Sharp", a swinging slice of well-honed
harmony soul that could've stood with the Stylistics if it had
received the proper backing. The greatest find of Jones' later years
was Alice Harper, who chose the stage name Alice Swoboda, taking the
surname from a New York Yankees outfielder. Her two tracks on this
compilation, both from 1972, are sophisticated soul numbers that dip
into funk, psychedelia, and folk. Her self-harmonizing over the
relentless clavinet groove of "I Think It's Time (You Were Mine)" is
jaw-dropping, as is the shuddering orchestral arrangement that backs
it, while her strange mid-point between Joni Mitchell and Nina Simone
on "Potter's Field" is weirdly arresting. She was a singular talent
who probably should have been releasing albums on Elektra or Harvest,
and these sides are truly great finds.
Jones persevered for as long as he could, sporadically churning out
singles until the end of the decade, but all dreams have to end, and
Jones' concluded without ever managing the true breakout that could
have come if luck had merely sided with him once. This sweeping
collection reveals his many highs and a few of his lows with great
affection, finally shedding some light on the greatest player in
Atlanta's strangely undersized independent soul scene.
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