ALLEN TOUSSAINT: TOUSSAINT (1971)
1)
From A Whisper To A Scream; 2) Chokin' Kind; 3) Sweet Touch Of Love; 4) What Is
Success; 5) Working In A Coalmine; 6) Everything I Do Gonna Be Funky; 7)
Either; 8) Louie; 9) Cast Your Fate To The Wind; 10) Number Nine; 11) Pickles.
Throughout the Sixties, Toussaint was too busy
writing and producing hit songs for a host of artists to ever focus on a solo
career, releasing only a tiny handful of singles under his own name (the most
famous of which was probably ʽGet Out Of My Life, Womanʼ in 1968, and even that
one was first made into a hit by Lee Dorsey two years before). However, as the
Seventies came along and established a pattern of formerly behind-the-scenes
songwriters coming out to lay claims to full-fledged artistry (Carole King
probably being the most famous examples), Toussaint apparently decided that it
wouldn't hurt to try. Backed by his good friend Mac Rebennack, a.k.a. Dr. John,
on guitar and organ (all piano duties are understandably handled by Allen
himself), as well as a dozen seasoned, but little-known session players (Merry
Clayton of ʽGimmie Shelterʼ fame is here on backing vocals, as a matter of
fact), Toussaint makes his first big move as a solo artist — and immediately falls
flat on his face!
Well, no, not quite. True, the record sold
poorly, was barely noted in its own time and even today remains more or less a
collector's item, to the extent that even the basic discographic information on
it tends to vary from source to source (from what I can reconstruct, the
original title was simply Toussaint,
the recording sessions took place in 1970, and the LP was released in
1971; more than a decade later, it was
re-released as From A Whisper To A
Scream, with one extra track on Side B, and this is the version I have). It
is also true that the record is quite low-key, and does not have even a third
part of the exuberance and youthful aggression of The Wild Sound: this new sound of Allen's is anything but wild,
particularly when you compare it to his funky competitors such as James Brown
or Funkadelic; in the dizzy, explosive context of 1971, when «thunder gods»
still ruled the world of pop, rock, and R&B, it could hardly be hoped that
a lot of people would pay attention to anything this humble.
But apart from these historic considerations, Toussaint is a pretty decent album.
Allen's motto for it is established with the last number on Side A —
ʽEverything I Do Gonna Be Funkyʼ — yet he establishes it in such a quiet,
unpretentious, and calm manner that I am automatically reminded of J. J. Cale:
had old J. J. decided that he, too, wanted to be funky from now on, he would
probably have recorded something precisely like this. The song is not even
properly «funky» by itself, just a regular 4/4 groove with minimal bass, quiet
interplay between a distorted rhythm guitar and lead slide licks, and brief,
punctuating touches of brass. Absolutely nothing special — but, somehow, still
burning with a quiet, steady, and very determined fire that really makes you
want to believe the man.
Everything else on the first side is done
according to the same approach: quiet, relying on short and sweet melodic
guitar phrases — but, unfortunately, also downplaying Toussaint's talents as a
piano player; his biggest break comes on Harlan Howard's ʽChokin' Kindʼ, but
even there Dr. John quickly overshadows him on the organ. All in all, the songs
do not even sound much like the product of a singer-songwriter, because
Toussaint's singing voice, while pleasant, friendly, and versatile, is strictly
defined as one out of many sonic ingredients: Merry Clayton and Venetta Fields
on backing vocals are just as loud as the frontman, and Toussaint never resorts
to ad-libbing, never jumps out of his seat to attract attention — which is,
admittedly, very cool and noble of him, but also depersonalizes him to a large
degree. And although his ʽWorking In The Coalmineʼ is a catchy and poignant
song, his version here hardly improves on Lee Dorsey's original, although the
arrangement is oddly more carnivalesque, with brass fanfare and slick funky
guitar framing Allen's so naturally optimistic and friendly voice that the
whole thing becomes ironic: surely Lee Dorsey did not sing about the sufferings
of a coalmine worker that cheerfully.
The entire second side of the album is left for
instrumental compositions, and this is where we could hope, perhaps, for some
let-your-hair-down wildness: but no dice — these funky instrumentals are quite
restrained, too, and focused on band interplay rather than showcasing
individual skills, with the lone exception of Vince Guaraldi's ʽCast Your Fate
To The Windʼ, where Allen finally takes center stage and lets his piano do most
of the talking, with some cool key changes and a beautifully fluent and
expressive solo in the middle. Everything else is just groove after groove,
tasteful and pleasant, but not much to write about: no flash (except at the end
of ʽPicklesʼ, where Toussaint wraps things up with a few Chopin-esque
flourishes), just business.
All in all, this is an inauspicious, but respectable
start to a true solo career; I would only recommend it, though, to those who
like their funky grooves very low-key
and restrained, speaking through subtlety and ellipse, rather than loud,
sweaty, and punchy. Oh, and with a brassy New Orleanian flavor, of course — the
kind of atmosphere that teaches you to always look on the bright side of
things, no matter how much they suck.
Still surprised this is not a thumbs up. Probably one might get bored of the tracks he's heard before in other versions but being all put together they make a really nice collection of touching songs. I love 'Sweet Touch Of Love' the best — it's a great Elvis track never recorded by Elvis from Memphis era.
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