In 1969 key Muscle Shoals/FAME Studios session man and esteemed songwriter Spooner Oldham relocated to Los Angeles; the only full-length released under his name arrived three years later. Those anticipating a soul banquet are likely to be perplexed or even frustrated, for the album travels through country-tinged singer-songwriter territory with detours down the middle of the early ‘70s road. Intermittently satisfying and consistently intriguing, it stands more as a casual immersion into a long gone milieu than as an accurate barometer of Oldham’s abilities; Pot Luck sees LP/CD/digital reissue on September 18th by Light in the Attic.
Performer on stone killers by Arthur Alexander, Jimmy Hughes, Percy Sledge, Aretha Franklin, and Wilson Pickett, co-writer of highlights from Joe Simon, The Sweet Inspirations, The Box Tops, and James and Bobby Purify, and inductee to numerous musical Halls of Fame, Spooner Oldham’s reputation as an integral architect of the Southern USA’s 20th century sound won’t diminish any time soon.
While the Alabama/Tennessee output will surely remain his crowning achievement, Oldham’s move to Los Angeles is a tad less celebrated. Well-known are his contributions to LPs by Rita Coolidge, The Everly Brothers, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Jennifer Warnes, Roger McGuinn, and Maria Muldaur, but less enthused over is Oldham’s tenure with the Producer’s Workshop of Hollywood, CA.
That’s because the joint’s activities, mainly supporting a bevy of non-threatening entertainers including Lawrence Welk, Ginger Rogers, The Lettermen, and The McGuire Sisters, regularly traverse the period’s Middle of the Road. Mayhaps you’ve heard of Liberace? Well, Oldham helped provide the backing on his 1970 hippening-up attempt A Brand New Me.
The Producer’s Workshop was opened by Seymour Heller; described in Andria Lisle’s notes for Pot Luck’s reissue as “an old school talent agent,” the phrase immediately brought to mind Woody Allen’s character in his film Broadway Danny Rose. The studio was run by Ray Harris and Ed Cobb, the latter an industry veteran; they soon hatched the idea of forming an identity-shaping house band a la FAME, Hi, and Stax.
Cobb was in the biz for the purpose of scoring hits, the guy having no particular interest in cutting-edges and the cultivation of sonic verve/grit. In combo with Heller’s Vegas-leanings and the endeavor’s necessity of labor, the Producer’s Workshop was as likely to cut ad jingles as assist in the making of folk or rock albums. And it may seem a debased enterprise next to Oldham’s artistic victories back east, but there were seedlings of bigger ambitions, one of them being Pot Luck.
Unsurprisingly it wasn’t Oldham’s idea, and the record’s informal construction places it in the direct vicinity of pure whim. This simultaneously limits Pot Luck’s impact and saves it from mediocrity or worse; had the MOR-isms found here been especially calculated and finessed, the results could’ve proven insufferable. Instead, it’s an unfussy document of utter professionals, namely guitarist Richard Bennett, bassist Emory Gordy, drummer Dennis St. John, and saxophonist Jerry Jumonville, lending support to one of their own.
Pot Luck is a tale of two sides. Rather than MOR, the first corrals five tracks better assessed in Oldham’s words as “our version of contemporary pop rock” with emphasis on the singer-songwriter angle; his vocals are fairly modest but they get the job done. “The Lord Loves a Rolling Stone,” a byproduct of his fruitful writing collaboration with Dan Penn, opens the disc in a gospel-infused country-rocking manner.
Lyrically secure as it dips into the decade’s post-“Willin’” trucker vogue, its strong suit is restraint; Oldham’s organ is never too busy and the group achieves a reasonable facsimile of The Band. Conversely, it’s boldness of aspiration that lends “1980 (Keep on Smiling)” its moderate appeal. Co-penned by Oldham and his wife Karen, the slightly oddball ballad of bluesy dystopia intertwines harmonica, foreboding swells of synthesizer and horn charts.
Even with fiddle accents, “Life’s Package of Puzzles” is less a slice of country-rock than a dollop of pop-chart singer-songwriter ambiance; composed by Oldham alone, its personal inventory is a vocal highlight as the tune drifts into the innocuous ballpark of B.J. Thomas. So a mixed bag; better is “Julie Brown’s Forest,” Oldham’s second sole writing credit resonating a little like Bill Withers in a Todd Rundgren frame of mind getting produced by Willie Mitchell.
Not as gangbusters as that might read, it’s still a pleasurable ride reinforcing an air of mild melancholy throughout side one. Capping the sequence is “Easy Listening,” a collab with Freddy Weller, the organ again nodding to Oldham’s soul background as the inclusion of pedal steel underlines the country in his equation.
This aspect is illuminated further of the flip, though for many side two will be a deal breaker; the bulk of its groove is devoted to a medley of selections Oldham either wrote or played on. Here the MOR beast is fully awakened, but things begin pretty enjoyably with the Percy Sledge cornerstone “When a Man Loves a Woman.”
Like the majority of the side, it’s sans voice, instead spotlighting the crispness of Oldham’s piano (it’s his gloriously achy Farfisa on the original). Lounge shades do enter “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You)” as a trombone steps in for Franklin’s pipes, but the segment’s legitimate soulfulness persists and Oldham’s electric piano tones are a treat; following is a sharp left turn into “Kentucky Grass.”
Co-credited to Oldham and the session’s bassist, it’s a smidge of slicked-up bluegrass predating contempo trends in Americana by over thirty years, and with an infiltrating horn section it’s thankfully devoid of the faux-politeness/surface seriousness found in a lot of neo-roots stuff. Really, it’s Richard Bennett’s lounge-corn electric sitar on “Cry Like a Baby” and the return of chatty trombone on “Respect” (riffing on Aretha’s version) that will cause some folks to balk.
“The New World” is a truncated good-time shuffle leading into “My Friend.” Co-written with Donnie Fritts, the song was initially waxed in ‘68 courtesy of Steve Alaimo for Atco and was tackled in ‘70 by Tony Joe White for Monument both as a b-side and on the Tony Joe LP. Returning to the mic, Oldham’s take is acceptable but loses something in the abbreviation, basically functioning as a lead-in to Pot Luck’s closer. A nifty plunge into trad-country staple “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” that’s marinated in gospel soul, a whole platter in this mode would’ve been quite engaging.
Today Oldham’s rep is as solid as a rock, but Pot Luck’s ‘72 release on Family Productions unfortunately sank like a stone. Flawed and far from essential, it’s an amicable listening experience detailing the workings of a different era; Light in the Attic’s edition is quite welcome, allowing Oldham’s many fans to purchase an affordable copy.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
