Songs Primarily in the Key of Life
2010; Colorado State University; Volume: 37; Issue: 2 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1353/col.2010.0084
ISSN2325-730X
Autores Tópico(s)Music History and Culture
Resumo68 BRIAN KEVIN SONGS PRIMARILY IN THE KEY OF LIFE jacket W ithin every collection of vinyl LPs or compact discs, two different types of records are found: those dusty with neglect and those affectionately scratched. Among my scratchiest is a light funk-gospel album recorded in 1973 by the world’s most infamous suicide cult. It’s a twelve-song collection, a mix of old spirituals, gospelinspired originals, and a couple of late ’60s Top 40 hits, all performed by a full choir and an eight-piece, blue-eyed soul outfit with a hot brass section. On the record jacket, the album’s title is printed in austere white lettering: He’s Able. The name comes from the chorus of an old revival-tent anthem, a sultry little call-and-response number that leads off the record’s B-side. It’s the kind of song you might hear one Sunday morning in the Deep South, the kind that’s sung in a sunlit place where the women carry fans and the air is heavy with hallelujahs. In the cover photo, we see the choir standing on the far side of a small pond, ninety or so people bunched along the shore, facing forward, small and individually indistinct against a wooded background. The women wear plain aqua-blue gowns, and the men are in black pants with light blue oxfords and dark ties. Racially, they’re a mixed bag, about equal numbers black and white. I count no fewer than fifteen afros, hovering like halos around dark, smiling faces. Although the photo shows the full chorus, not all of the choir members actually sing on the album—just a couple dozen. Their voices were multi-tracked in the studio, then played back on top of one another in order to give the impression of a fuller chorus. In fact, there’s only one track on He’s Able where we hear more than a few dozen voices raised simultaneously, and that’s on the eventual “bonus” thirteenth track. Except in that instance, the voices aren’t singing. There are several small photos on the back of the jacket, 69 Kevin including another shot of the choir, this time crowded onto a wooded path. Their arms are raised above their heads in what looks like praise but could just as easily be surrender. In another photo is a young white man, handsome in a suit jacket and tie, his black hair parted neatly to the side and glistening slightly with pomade. He stands at a lectern with his eyes cast downward , his right hand resting casually along its wooden edge. The look on his face is serene and coolly regal, like that of a general before his troops. He’s clutching an object that’s half-cropped out of the photo and difficult to identify. If we look very closely, we can see that it’s a pair of dark sunglasses. Beneath the photo is a caption: “Our choir consists of people from all walks of life. We are dedicated to one common cause— making the humanistic teachings of Jesus Christ part of our daily lives. Our inspiration is a lifestyle demonstrated by our pastor, James W. Jones.” He’s Able is out of print. Has been since 1978, when most of the singers and musicians featured on it killed themselves in the jungles of Guyana by drinking cyanide-laced Flavor Aid in what has come to be known as the Jonestown Massacre. side one 1. “Welcome” (1:32) The first track on He’s Able starts out jauntily, with just a snare drum and eight seconds of springy piano melody. It’s the kind of twinkly theme that might play over the opening credits of a kiddie show on public television, the sound of primary colors and wobbly cartoon animals. Then the children’s choir comes in, and it’s like someone throwing a bucket of silverware down a laundry chute. They’re yelling at top volume: Welcome, welcome all of you! Glad you are with us! Shake hands, no need to be blue! Welcome to you! Of the twelve official tracks on the album, “Welcome” is the only...
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