Cannonball Adderley's Country Preacher

 

Cannonball Adderley’s Country Preacher, live album

It all begins with Black English vernacular-inflected introduction by Jesse Jackson, since the concert was performed for his Operation Breadbasket in Chicago. “Walk Tall” is a funky number led by the organ and a funky drummer, appealing to the ghetto of Chicago and across Black America. In addition to bringing the funk, it has a gospel-styled melody, soulful and optimistic for the future of ghetto Black Metropolis. The electric organist gets down, too, while that drummer keeps the heavy backbeat going with some nice rolls. The crowd response seems to indicate enjoyment, too, and Cannonball introduces “Country Preacher,” where he speaks about Operation Breadbasket. It’s a slower number, also gospel-inflected, with the keys provided by Joe Zawinul, a European playing more soulful blues and gospel jazz than most other cats could back then. The crowd seems to enjoy this too, cheering just as Adderley’s soulful, contemplative solo begins. Adderley ends the piece urging Rev. Jackson to preach. “Hummin’” proceeds, with some nice soul-clapping, tambourines, and a funky riff from Zawinul. Indeed, this entire album could serve as a goldmine for hip-hop cratediggers, eager to lay their hands on some funky soul-jazz and jazz-funk from this period. Adderley’s brother, Nat, takes over on the soloing, blowing some nice trumpet funk, asserting the primacy of the blues while cognizant of the new thing in black music, funk. Adderley’s subsequent soloing, is also keeping the funk groove in mind, soaring at times while remaining mostly tame as Zawinul keeps on makin’ it funky, as James Brown would approve. This is my jam, alongside the next track, “Oh, Babe,” famously sampled by Atmosphere for “Guns and Cigarettes.”

“Oh, Babe,” beginning with a soulful blues wail from Cannonball, also keeps things funky through Zawinul and the careful gut-bucket rhythm by the drummer. Adderley, introducing the piece, talks about the need to pay our respects to the blues, talking about the song as a soulful excursion into “the past, present and future of our music,” a collective we asserting the power and transcendence of the blues while a blues shouter takes over, who exhiliarates the crowd. “I’m like a Mississippi hound dog, babe” must be my favourite line, as well as the “Please, Mr. Nixon, don’t cut that welfare off on me,” marking the song as political, humorous, and relevant to the concerns, experiences, and political views of the audience. The Zawinul solo, funky and bluesy, is the part sampled by Atmosphere, a well-chosen part of the song to sample. Once our vocalist returns, he continues in the blues wail while the horns play call and response, and the vocalist inserts some more humorous commentary and his plan to find a new love. This is a fun, at times silly, blues piece and funky and relevant to the audience. Adderley introduces the next song while focusing on black music, what it is, and speaks about black music as out of the same thing, not being the same. The song, “Afro-Spanish Omelette, is a suite-like composition of four tunes by each bandmate, and veering from the soul-jazz and funk of the previous compositions, entering into modal territory. Adderley’s trumpet evokes Sketches of Spain quite well while the bassist, drummer, and Zawinul provide background atmosphere superbly. When things start swinging and the drummer, sounding not unlike Elvin Jones, kicks in, things get interesting, especially under Adderley’s shrieking, elephantine sounds. The bassist takes over, playing something “Moorish,” introducing the next segment of the piece, sounding like Reggie Workman from Coltrane’s “Olé” but ultimately begins to bore after a while without any bandmate accompaniment. Zawinul takes over, fortunately, and the drummer adds in some funky playing while he explores something that sounds between Afro-Caribbean Latin music (at times) and jazz fusion. His feature is light-hearted, sweet, contemplative, and introspective, while never tiring or declining into mindless noodling, rather venturing into new heights before ending rather poorly. Better yet, Adderley’s saxophone feature, beginning with bluesy wails, turns into Afro-Caribbean or Cuban-inflected music, with appropriate drumming and the rest of the band. It is a meeting of African-American bebop, blues, and Latin music, which, as we can see in “Jive Samba,” is something Adderley handles adeptly. By far my favourite part of “Afro-Spanish Omelette,” the drummer is definitely enjoying himself and Adderley’s light-hearted, cute soloing, reflective of bebop lines, of course, remains in the spirit of jazz’s Caribbean heritage. It’s impossible for the listener to not want to clap their hands, dance, or sway their feet with the infectious rhythm, particularly during Adderley and the band playing call and response and introducing even more Caribbean-inflected horn duos to repeat an adorable melody to close the composition. 

 

The album ends on a high note, “The Scene” with a sermonic line stating the audience’s shared belief in their worth, declaring, “I am somebody” and “Sock it to me.” Adderley’s band ends with some swinging and Adderley exhorting on the values of soul power. He gracefully thanks the audience, the band, and the groove the band and audience collectively created. For a record of some of Operation Breadbasket’s appeal to Black Chicagoans and the use of music and art for this period in the Black Power/Civil Rights Movement, this album is invaluable, despite some less than pleasant moments. Highly recommendable, I give this a 3.5 out of 5, with a restatement of its accessibility, entertainment quality, and funkiness. As a product of its time, the listener is rewarded immeasurably by an entry into this period in the life of Jesse Jackson, the Cannonball Adderley Quintet, and an important period in the Black Freedom Struggle in the United States.