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.
