Back in the fall of 2019, Real Gone Music released on 2LP and CD The Complete Stax Singles, Vol. 1 (1962-1967) by Booker T. & The MG’s, rounding up 29 original mono single sides. Now here comes a repress alongside The Complete Stax Singles, Vol. 2 (1968-1974), which features 20 selections, the first 15 in mono, the last five in stereo in keeping with the versions as originally released. Remastered with care with notes for both volumes by Ed Osborne, these two sets offer definitive documentation of all the singles by the greatest instrumental R&B outfit in the history of the style. Although they are a band extensively and deservedly praised, we’ll add to the discourse below.
In 1991, when Atlantic released The Complete Stax-Volt Singles 1959-1968 across eight compact discs, much celebration ensued. Once buyers broke the shrink wrap and played the set’s contents during a few house parties, celebration could grow into borderline pandemonium. I was there to witness it. But as magnificent as that collection continues to be, Atlantic did play a little loose with the notion of completeness, as they omitted numerous songs, specifically B-sides, likely in an attempt to deliver maximum listener enjoyment alongside an acceptable price tag.
This matter is relevant here as Real Gone’s The Complete Stax Singles, Vol. 1 (1962-1967), its second edition pressed on red wax (the first was on blue), rounds up the Booker T. & The MG’s tracks that Atlantic didn’t include, by my count 11, and sequences the flips directly after the plug sides. And if you’re wondering about Vol. 1’s odd-numbered total of 29, that’s because “Mo-Onions” was issued as both an A and B side.
The thing about releases conceived with a completist objective is that they are often best suited for completists. That’s not exactly untrue in this case, but the crucial difference is in how well the music on Vol. 1 overcomes the transition from standalone 45s to longform chronological compiling, a feat that’s almost miraculous given that Booker T. & The MG’s weren’t exactly known for their range.
Keyboardist Booker T. Jones, guitarist Steve Cropper, drummer Al Jackson, Jr, and bassists Lewie Steinberg first, and then Donald “Duck” Dunn (replacing Steinberg roughly halfway through Vol. 1) delivered ensemble playing par excellence, a sound so on the money that it thrived even in the absence of a powerhouse vocalist (with the roll of exceptional backing unit integral to the group’s existence, as they served as the house band for Stax).
Instrumental R&B hits weren’t unusual during this era, but most of the artists and bands recording them had a fleeting interaction with the sales charts. Comparatively, Booker T. & The MG’s were wildly successful, with 15 of Vol. 1’s tracks landing on the charts to some degree. Of course, commercial success is no indicator of artistic worth, but please understand that the music on these two collections is a key component in one of 20th century music’s greatest achievements (specifically, the story of Stax). That it sold well is a mark in humanity’s favor.
The band’s lack of range shouldn’t be taken as a refusal to evolve. This should be understood by anybody who’s heard their debut “Green Onions,” with its visions of Bill Doggett waving goodbye in the rear-view mirror (it’s an exemplary driving tune), and the spring-action funkiness of their later gem “Hip Hug Her.” And this growth is surely a major reason why the 29 tracks on Vol. 1 progress with nary a hiccup in quality, even as increasingly familiar territory gets covered from an array of angles.
Amongst the attempts to revamp “Green Onions” (“Mo-Onions” obviously, but also “Home Grown”), there’s late-night bluesy slow-movers (“Behave Yourself,” “Terrible Thing”), gnarly riff-rippers (“Jelly Bread,” “Boot-Leg”), humid funk plunges (“Aw Mercy”), a Little Walter knockoff (“Big Train”), proto-garage rock (“Plum Nellie”), shades of soul-jazziness (“Soul Dressing,” “My Sweet Potato”), horn-tinged discotheque groovers (“MG Party”), vaguely Doug Sahm-ish motions (“Outrage”), a couple of covers (Gershwin’s “Summertime,” The Rascals’ “Groovin’”), and not one but two non-toxic Christmas singles.
Whew! The above run-down reinforces how the band’s reputation largely rests on their earlier material, but it’s pretty remarkable how the singles corralled on Vol. 2 in no way tarnish their stature, starting off strong with the Latin-flavored “Soul Limbo,” a tune that’s amongst the most atypical in their discography. “Heads or Tails” is more indicative of their approach circa ’68, but then comes a very likeable version of the theme to the Ted Post-directed Clint Eastwood-starring western Hang ‘Em High.
As Jones switches to piano, “Over Easy” gets particularly pop-jazzy, with the fleetness of Cropper’s playing enhancing this quality. Side one wraps up with the exquisite flow of “Time Is Tight,” sounding as grand today as it has on countless occasions over the years while driving in cars, or waiting in line at the convenience store, or making a work shift bearable by listening to the radio.
Side two opens with “Johnny, I Love You,” the flip to “Time Is Tight,” with both tracks sourced from the soundtrack to Up Tight, the Jules Dassin-directed proto–Black Action flick released in 1969. Please note that the single and album versions of “Time Is Tight” are different and that “Johnny, I Love You” offers a solid vocal turn by Jones.
It’s followed by a cover of “Mrs. Robinson” that I’ll confess to digging more than the original (I’ve felt this way for years) and then a nicely psychedelic soul-shaded double dose with the effects pedal-laden “Soul Clap ’69” and the slightly Motown-y briskness of “Slum Baby.” The gradually expanding horn section-infused “Meditation” rounds out the second side.
The dexterous “Something” opens side three, culled from McLemore Avenue, the MG’s 1970 album of Beatles covers. Next is the appropriately churchy “Sunday Sermon” and then the rhythmically punchy “Melting Pot.” Some will raise an eyebrow over the wordless choral backing vocal injection given to the “Green Onions” variation “Kinda Easy Like,” but the band’s commitment and the general chutzpah solidifies it into more than a curiosity.
Still, “Kinda Easy Like” does signal that the end was near. And right on time, the tropically inclined (but surprisingly non-reggae) “Jamaica This Morning,” plus all but one of the five tracks on side four (where we switch to stereo) feature a band credited simply as the MG’s, as Jones and Cropper had departed for California.
These cuts aren’t terrible. I quite like closer “Breezy” actually (why it was left off the 1973 album The MG’s is hard to fathom). But there is an air of the inessential that’s difficult to escape, and that’s not perceptible anywhere on Vol. 1. The first LP of Vol. 2 is still easily strong enough to warrant its inclusion in any well-rounded collection but those on a budget should snatch up this repress of Vol. 1 before it disappears. Its best moments have only gotten better over time.
The Complete Stax Singles, Vol. 1 (1962-1967)
A+
The Complete Stax Singles, Vol. 2 (1968-1974)
B+
