Headless Heroes Of The Apocalypse - Eugene McDaniels

Well, ladies and gents, I'm sorry to say that I'm going to be taking a break from Solid Gold Easy Action for a while... I've just got too much goddamned shit to do and not nearly enough time to do it. I'll still try and post an album a week or so, and hopefully come back in full force once I get some more free time in my schedule. Anyway, here's an album that oughtta tide you over for a while: Eugene McDaniels's monolithic soul/jazz/funk/folk masterpiece, Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse. From the plunking bass notes and hi-hat clatter that starts the album, it's clear that this a rare-groove long-player to cherish. But the grooviest thing about Headless Heroes isn't its funkiness (it's not exactly a dance album), but its weirdness. Sounding like a collision between the spacey soul-jazz of Herbie Hancock, the folky soul of Terry Callier, and the ornate blaxploitation funk of Isaac Hayes, Headless Heroes is literate and poetic in the way that so few classic R&B albums are. McDaniels sings and emotes with all the improvisational unpredictability of an experienced jazz vocalist (which McDaniels had been for nearly a decade), but his lyrics owe more to America's folk tradition of the 60's than to jazz lyricism. Still, there's some fiery Afrofuturism informing these tight grooves, and manifesto-like tracks like "Freedom Death Dance" are almost psychedelic in their verbal intensity. This album is rightly vaunted as a cratediggers' classic, and it's not hard to see why: every song crackles with righteous energy and soulful pomp. It's not surprising that Headless Heroes was recorded and produced by legendarily ahead-of-his-time jazz maestro Joel Dorn. Even if it's not quite jazz, it's still as groundbreaking and far-reaching as any of Dorn's work with Yusef Lateef or Rahsaan Roland Kirk. I implore to give this album a listen - it is, without a doubt, one of the greatest and most inspiring lost classics of the 70's. The nasty Hendrixian funk of "The Lord is Back" deserves to become part of R&B's canon of classics, while "Supermarket Blues" is a criticism of race relations as witty and sharp as any of the Harlem Renaissance's finest moments.

The Lord is black, his mood is in the rain.