THE M.G.'s: THE M.G.'s (1973)
1) Sugar Cane; 2) Neck Bone;
3) Spare Change; 4) Leaving The Past; 5) Left Overs (Bucaramanga); 6) Black
Side; 7) One Of A Kind (Love Affair); 8) Frustration.
Yes, technically this album belongs in its own
section or at least in the «special addenda» corner, but we will make a
logistic exception and treat it as a regular part of the discography just for
the sake of continuity. Not long after the release of Melting Pot, the two main creative guys in the band — Booker T.
himself and Steve Cropper — ever more unhappy about being tied up by the new
rules at Stax, decided to break the chain and move on to an uncertain, but
seemingly more exciting (as it looked to them at the time) future.
The rhythm section, however, as is often the
case with rhythm sections around the world, felt that the name of «M.G.'s» was
everything they had left in this world, and ultimately they decided to stick to
it. After a few tentative detours, Dunn and Jackson teamed up with Stax session
guitarist Bobby Manuel and newly-emerged organ sensation Carson Whitsett — and
now that once again there were four of them, they thought it sensible to just
lop off the «Booker T.» part and bill themselves as «The M.G.'s» for their next
record.
Now obviously, one's first basic instinct would
be to dismiss the album without giving it a chance: after all, as reliable as
the band's rhythm section had always been, most
of the time we were really coming back to their tunes in order to hear some
classic guitar/organ interplay. And indeed, when you listen to The M.G.'s right after Melting Pot, the initial feeling is
almost guaranteed to be underwhelming. The funky backbone is all but gone, not
a single song is as catchy as ʽFuquawiʼ, and the whole album seems to be very
low-key, almost begging you to accept it as unremarkable background music while
you're busy doing your typical 1973-style chores.
However, it is also immediately noticeable that
the new band is trying — not merely
coasting on the strength of their reputation. Most of the compositions are
self-written (with just a couple taken from rather obscure sources), the
arrangements and moods are relatively diverse, and there are some relatively long
and complex tunes that show a mildly «progressive» spirit. This alone should
guarantee a few extra listens, and eventually you might come to realize that
the record is not all bad — its biggest disadvantage, perhaps, is that it is
really so quiet. Unlike Booker T. and
Cropper, the new guitarist and organist sometimes give the odd impression of
competing in who of the two can «out-hush» the other one. Yet they are doing it
in good taste.
Perhaps the single finest example of this
competition comes on the seven-minute long ʽLeaving The Pastʼ, largely an
acoustic number with several sections that smoothly flow from simple folk to more
«baroque» textures, then eventually make the transition into jazzy and then bluesy
territory. Everything is done so quietly that your attention may easily drift
away, and yet it is probably the
single most complex composition up that was up to that point credited to the
name of The M.G.'s. And it is quite likeable — the first half being elegantly
romantic and the second more self-consciously «cool», as Manuel's acoustic
guitar really roots all of these parts in the «past» (no clear signs of anybody
«leaving» it, though). Nobody is going to remember it all that much, no, but
accidentally falling upon it somewhere in your collection can trigger some good
emotions every once in a while.
Most of the other tracks, while technically «louder»,
are just as inobtrusive. Typically, they will feature a soft, tasteful, friendly
organ melody from Whitsett (ʽSugar Caneʼ, ʽOne Of A Kindʼ), set to a funky
rhythm pattern that is so frail and delicate, hearing this kind of take on funk
would be like watching Audrey Hepburn in a boxing ring — well, maybe not as
gimmicky, but a pretty solid analogy all the same. Very rarely the music packs a bit more muscle, when Al Jackson
agrees to pummel rather than caress his skins and Whitsett includes some
bombastic honky-tonk piano playing (ʽSpare Changeʼ), or when Duck Dunn decides
to play a «threatening» bass line (ʽLeft Oversʼ), but even a track called
ʽFrustrationʼ, where you could theoretically expect them to auto-destruct their
equipment in the studio or something, is really just one more low-key piece of clean,
soft, smooth fusion with perhaps a tiny pinch of psychedelia, provided by the
trebley guitar tone and a mind-manipulative overdub strategy.
But give this stuff time, and The M.G.'s might just turn out to be
one of those barely noticeable, non-flashy, self-reserved albums that show how
good music can be made without
pulling rock'n'roll faces — all the more amusing that it was released at the
height of the glam era, when Keith Emerson and Mick Ronson ruled the day and
hiding in the shadow to play your instrument was a surefire commercial suicide.
And, of course, The M.G.'s was a commercial suicide — none of its
singles charted, much less the album itself. It still got some good reviews,
though, and continues to be warmly treated even today, but you do have to warm up to it. An outstanding
non-triumph of being utterly non-outstanding, it deserves all the thumbs up
it can get without getting your hands out of your trouser pockets.
Leaving the Past is remarkable for yet another reason: it's a cheerful song and mainly in major keys, in a time that all rock artists wrote in minor. Indeed a case can be made that it's a progressive song - it's just the exact opposite direction Yes, Genesis and ELP chose!
ReplyDeleteI disagree with your conclusion. Leaving the Past didn't require any warming up from me; it's an outstanding song indeed, exactly because it's so completely atypical for the year 1973 and still works.