The Older We Get

When I was a kid we were - there's no other word for it - racist. Our parents fed us this stuff and, there being no contrary voice raised, we pretty much bought.

We also believed it was worth an Armageddon-level nuke strike on Moscow to preserve our God-given right to something - oh yeah, now I.remember, our right to capitalism.

But, for all the Pat Boones, there were singers and writers who stayed with the tried and true - with the blues. They made unforgettable music - just like this by Joan Osbourne. (psss. up the bass, now)



And, if you liked that, I'm pretty sure you'll be swept away with this:



Do let me know if I'm wrong.

These clips are courtesy of a bunch of southern musicians who were carried north to work in factories, in particular the car plants in Detroit. They worked their musical way out of the factories slowly and almost under the radar.

Yet, when Motown evolved it needed a pop/blues "orchestra" that would write it's own music to the tune. That group of exceptional musicians became known as The Funk Brothers.

Time passes, memory fades. The Funk Brothers I knew and understood in the late 60's/early 70's were lost to us just a couple of years after they had really taken off. Once Motown became the music focus for Michael Jackson, any remaining hope of jazz and blues became one dark farce.

Only today are we recognizing the Funk Brothers. That's long overdue.