Just like we did last year, we wanted to take a week out of Jheri Curl June to spotlight the important contributions made by women artists to the genre. And how better to kick off our second annual JCJ Ladies’ Week than with the Ivory Queen of Soul herself, Teena Marie?
Initially a protégé of Jheri Curl June alumnus Rick James, Teena Marie was an accomplished singer and musician in her own right. She wrote and produced nearly all of her own music, including her biggest hit, 1984’s “Lovergirl.”
On Tuesday we talked about the Deele, the Ohio-based R&B group that kickstarted the careers of Antonio “L.A.” Reid and Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds. Today we look at one of the songs the duo produced under their production company, Deelesongz, Inc.: the Whispers’ “Rock Steady.”
The Whispers were formed in 1963 by twins and black Mario Bros. Wallace “Scotty” Scott and Walter Scott, and had several hits throughout the ’60s and ’70s. But “Rock Steady” was their first hit to make it into the Top 10 on the Hot 100, peaking at number 7. I like to think that the success of Rock Steady can be directly attributed to this amazing video:
Jheri curl music is an essentially synthetic musical form: like its namesake from the hair world, it is not a genre that occurs in nature, but a heavily processed transformation of traditional African American styles. That’s one of the reasons why Brooklyn jheri-curl duo D-Train was so interesting. A collaboration between the group’s namesake, singer James “D-Train” Williams, and keyboardist/producer Hubert Eaves III, D-Train took the most traditional form of African American music, gospel, and funneled it through the most synthetic of mid-’80s production methods; or, to use a more fitting metaphor, Eaves’ production softened, set, and activated the natural soulfulness of Williams’ vocals.
Arguably the best example of this technique was D-Train’s breakout hit, 1981’s “You’re the One for Me“: opening with Williams crooning the chorus over an understated piano line, it sounds for the first 45 seconds or so like a throwback to the pre-disco soul of, say, Teddy Pendergrass. But then the beat kicks in, followed by the synthesized handclaps, and suddenly the D-Train has transferred to Jheri Curl Station, with Eaves’ infectious synth line as the engine. It’s the musical equivalent of a big plate full of cornbread and collard greens suddenly transforming into the spaceship from Close Encounters of the Third Kind and taking off into the sky.
Okay, okay, I know what you’re thinking: who let this flaccid, schlocky dad-pop interloper into our pristine shrine to the jheri curl and the music it inspired? But just relax, and I’ll explain everything.
After the massive success of Purple Rain in the summer of 1984, jheri curl music went from being a trendy form of R&B to one of the dominant modes of mainstream pop, full stop. Pretty soon, everybody was starting to sound a little jheri-curl–even people who had no business sounding that way. Even people who could never actually have a jheri curl of their own. People like the incurably lame, and just-as-incurably bald, Phil Collins.
In 1989 Antonio “L.A.” Reid and Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds founded LaFace records, the record company responsible for Usher, OutKast, TLC, Pink, and Toni Braxton, among others.
Back in 1985, though, they were sporting bright pink satin dress shirts and impressive jheri curls with the rest of the boys in the Deele, yet another funk and R&B outfit from Ohio.
Jheri Curl June is, of course, first and foremost about the music. But, as I wrote in this year’s introductory post, jheri curl is also a profoundly visual form; it is, after all, the only genre of music to my knowledge named after a hairstyle. And so it only makes sense that we should also take some of the imagery associated with the music into consideration. That’s why this year, I’m happy to announce an entirely new feature dedicated to Jheri Curl Cinema. And there’s no other film more qualified to launch such a feature than Prince’s and Albert Magnoli’s 1984 cult classic Purple Rain.
There are a few reasons why Purple Rain is so perfect for our inaugural Jheri Curl Cinema post. First, yesterday was of course Prince‘s 57th birthday–and while His Royal Badness presumably hasn’t celebrated his birthday since he became a Jehovah’s Witness in 2001, that just means we have to celebrate it twice as hard. But second, and more to the point, Purple Rain is an important film because it captures the essence of the Minneapolis scene in the early 1980s–and thus, by extension, the essence of jheri curl music itself.
The main reason we celebrate Jheri Curl June in June is because, let’s face it, we are only human, and are as susceptible to the siren song of alliteration as the next group of hack Internet writers. But there’s also a pretty good justification for the timing, because the birthdays of two of jheri curl music’s most important innovators fall in the first week of June. We covered the first of those innovators, Prince, in last year’s inaugural Jheri Curl June Special. So this time around, we’ll be discussing the other one: James “Jimmy Jam” Harris, born June 6, 1959.
If Prince was jheri curl music’s architect, then Jimmy Jam and his longtime musical partner Terry Lewis were the brilliant engineers who shaped the structure to its fullest potential. Their take on the “Minneapolis Sound” developed by their former mentor added a new level of polish and sophistication; and when Prince shifted his own music away from traditional jheri-curl and toward neo-psychedelia in the mid-’80s, Jam and Lewis went in the opposite direction, crafting ever-more-flawless pop-friendly tracks that kept JCM in the top of the charts and, ultimately, evolved into the next dominant R&B sound, New Jack Swing.
André Cymone, Prince‘s childhood friend and original touring bass player from ’79 to ’81, is one of a very long list of Prince casualties: including Jheri Curl June veteran (yes, that’s a thing) Jesse Johnson, Mark “Brownmark” Brown, Morris Day, Vanity, and others, all of whom were pissed off at Prince just enough to leave his musical empire and go solo… only to end up making second-rate Prince music on their own, some of which was even written by the Purple One himself. On a side note, it’s eerie that all these people also happened to look like second-rate versions of Prince–with the possible exception of Brownmark, although he could arguably have passed as a chubbier version.
Anyway, before we get too far into diss territory, let me say that Cymone’s 1982 solo debut, Livin’ in the New Wave, is a freakin’ awesome album. Until I heard Livin’ in the New Wave, I had only heard unfinished bootleg versions of the Prince-authored tracks “So Fine” and “Trouble,” which gives it big Prince-nerd appeal. While it’s not a totally groundbreaking album, every song is at the least very listenable, and chock-full of interesting synthesizer blips and harmonies.
Last June, we talked about Roger Troutman‘s “I Want to Be Your Man“–a classic jheri-curl ballad, completely worthy of inclusion in the annals of JCM history. But the song I really wanted to talk about was “Heartbreaker,” the 1983 hit by Troutman’s band Zapp. The reasons for this are obvious: first, because it’s a Zapp classic–a song scientifically engineered to be bumped as loud as one’s car speakers will allow, preferably while rolling through South Central L.A. in a 1961 Impala like Big Worm from Friday. And second, because it’s one of the few jheri-curl songs to make lyrical reference to an actual jheri curl: as Troutman croons through his vocoder at the beginning of the third verse, “Everybody thinks that you’re a nasty, nasty girl / Wearing short dresses and that sexy jheri curl.”
The fact that Troutman and company knew a little something about “nasty” is obvious just from “Heartbreaker”‘s patented bass-heavy bounce. And as for whether they knew a little something about jheri curls…well…
While jheri curl music is most often associated with the Minneapolis Sound, the Ohio funk scene can definitely be cited as another important influence. Ohio was a hotbed for funk music in the 1970s: Bootsy Collins, the Ohio Players, Zapp, the Isley Brothers, the O’Jays, and many others. But one of the lesser-known, and highly underrated, bands that came out of Ohio during this era was Slave. Sure, their musical evolution more or less followed the run-of-the-mill trail from hardcore, horn-heavy funk to disco-influenced funk, to a (sort of) mellower R&B funk, and of course, to the synthesizer-heavy sound of the mid-’80s. But Slave managed to develop their own, super-funky, inimitable style even while sticking with the status quo, and they are one of my personal favorites.
By 1980, Slave, though still sounding very much like a ’70s funk outfit, had embraced a sleeker, more melodic sound. In “Watching You,” from their 1980 album Stone Jam, the hard-hitting horn section had been replaced with a doodling synthesizer riff. This, along with bassist Mark Adams’ signature heavy slap bass line at the forefront of the mix, makes this a very smooth, funky early jheri-curl groove.