An alphabetized sequence of songs from this morning’s bicycling commute:
Ike Quebec, “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” Quebec was one of the greatest of the breathy tenor saxophonists whose amorous mid-century sound makes me weak, and this is one of the few instrumental jazz versions of the classic Depression anthem.
Cymande, “Brothers on the Slide.” Subtle UK funk with a message that sticks.
Fleetwood Mac, “Brown Eyes.” The haunting softness of this song is one of the reasons Tusk is in my top five.
Don Cherry, “Brown Rice.” Charlie Haden on wah-wah bass supplies the elemental groans and snarls; Frank Lowe on tenor supplies the wishes and screams; Bunchie Fox on bongos supplies the propulsion; and Don Cherry whispers recipes and folk rhymes. There’s never been anything like this.
The Rolling Stones, “Brown Sugar.” It’s hard not to hate this song, to be utterly repulsed by its weird and salacious presentation of slave rape; it’s also hard not to be propelled forward by its perfect guitar sound and production. Even though I’ve heard it a thousand times, I still feel icky. Greil Marcus’s 1971 Creem piece says it all.
8 Bold Souls, “Brown Town.” New Orleans Brass Band sound meets Chicago post-ACM stylings for deliverance into funk.
Zap Mama, “Brrrlak!” Terrifically rhythmic nonsense, this is the sound of feminine surprise.
Coleman Hawkins, “Bu-Dee-Daht.” The title says it all.
Fanfare Ciocarlia, “Bubamara.” A Romanian brass band breaks the speed limit.
Bud Powell, “Bud’s Bubble.” From the first trio recording Bud did in 1947. Stupendous.
Jelly Roll Morton, “Buddy Bolden’s Blues.” This mysterious ballad about overhearing other jazz musicians talking shit is both foundational and timeless. Luc Sante devoted a great piece to it in the anthology The Rose & the Briar.
Boredoms, “Budokan Tape Try (500 Tapes High).” From their best album, Super Roots. Uneasy listening.
Pio Leyva, “Buen Tumbao.” On any list of the greatest Cuban mambos, the push and pull of the vocals against the rhythm is pure seduction.
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