Allen Toussaint - The Wild Sound of New Orleans 1957

These dozen sides represent Allen Toussaint's earliest solo recordings for RCA Records circa 1958. Toussaint was essentially discovered by Danny Kessler -- an early version of what would now be considered an A&R man. It was during another artist's studio time -- featuring Toussaint as the accompanying pianist -- that Kessler first heard and approached Toussaint to prepare a few instrumentals of his own. On January 29, 1958, Toussaint (piano) was joined by a local crew that included Alvin "Red" Taylor (baritone sax), Nat Perrilliat (tenor sax) or Lee Allen (tenor sax), either Justin Adams (guitar) or Roy Montrell (guitar), Frank Fields (bass), and Charles "Hungry" Williams (drums). As intimated above, the precise personnel has long been debated. Kessler produced an outing that yielded the infectiously up-tempo blues "Whirlaway" and the Ray Charles-inspired gospel-meets-barrelhouse-meets-swing title "Happy Times." Kessler turned the pair into a locally successful single and was so encouraged by the results, less than a month later the same assemblage gathered to record the remainder of what would be the Wild Sound of New Orleans (1958). The soulful "Up the Creek" is a dark waltz with Toussaint's stirring keyboard runs emphasizing the haunting refrain. On the opposite side of the emotive spectrum, the hearty "Tim Tam" is impelled by Williams' hard and heavy backbeat with Allen blowing his lungs out. Another contrast follows with the whimsical "Me and You." The melody is decked out with a classy early 20th century pop standard feel, while all the more striking is the percussive accompaniment replicating a tap-dancer doing an old soft shoe. Immediately, Toussaint's expressive keyboarding on "Bono" and "Nashua" give props to the performance style of Professor Longhair before settling into their respectively catchy, mid-tempo rhythms. The horns have plenty of room to strut their proverbial stuff and the syncopation of the latter immediately brings Mardi Gras to mind. Perhaps the best-known tune among the lot is the jaunty "Java," which took on new life thanks to a chart-topping remake by Al Hirt. The trumpeter turned it into his unofficial theme song, ultimately making a 30-plus-year career out of it. "Wham Tousan" and "Pelican Parade" each quickly rev up to full throttle with the saxes taking on and going head-to-head with Toussaint's rollicking runs up and down the 88s. The German-label import Complete "Tousan" Sessions (1992) from Bear Family is a good way to get the 12 songs found here. It also boasts the complete and rarer Seville label material that the artist cut and issued under the moniker "Al Tousan." AMG.

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Allen Toussaint - Life, Love And Faith 1972

When Allen Toussaint restarted his solo career in 1970 with Toussaint (aka From a Whisper to a Scream), he leaned heavily on songs he had written for other artists, as well as a couple of covers. It was a good way to jump-start his career, and with its elastic, elegant arrangements, it set the groundwork for 1972's Life, Love and Faith, his first album for Reprise/Warner. Toussaint seized the opportunity as a way to stretch out his sound, refining it and expanding it so it was grounded in New Orleans R&B but also encompassed hard funk and smooth soul. Though it was a soul album through and through, it also had the feeling of being part of Reprise's considerable singer/songwriter stable -- such artists as Randy Newman, Bonnie Raitt, Little Feat, and Joni Mitchell -- and if anything, Life, Love and Faith feels more of a piece with this group than it does with most music coming out of New Orleans in the early '70s because it also captures an eccentric genius pursuing his idiosyncratic vision. Here, it seems as if Toussaint has found every permutation of his signature sound, which is pretty much the sound of New Orleans R&B. He revives the classic, easy-rolling groove on "Soul Sister"; turns it seriously, deeply funky on "Goin' Down" and "Victims of the Darkness"; gets trippy on "Out of the City (Into Country Life)"; treads nimbly with a Philly soul variation on "She Once Belonged to Me"; and crafts a tremendous, dramatic ballad with "On Your Way Down," one of the finest songs he ever wrote. It's a textured, multi-layered record that may not be the purest dose of Toussaint, but is the one album that truly exhibits how deep and wide his talents ran. AMG.

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Allen Toussaint - Southern Nights 1975

Allen Toussaint produced a kind of masterpiece with his first Reprise album, Life, Love and Faith, finding previously unimagined variations on his signature New Orleans R&B sound. For its 1975 sequel, Southern Nights, he went even further out, working with producer Marshall Sehorn to create a hazy vague concept album that flirted with neo-psychedelia while dishing out his deepest funk and sweetest soul. It's a bit of an unfocused album, but that's largely due to the repeated instrumental "filler," usually based on the theme of the title song, that pops up between every two or so songs, undercutting whatever momentum the album is building. That, along with a song or two that are merely average Toussaint, prevents Southern Nights from being a full-fledged masterpiece, but it comes close enough to that level of distinction anyway due to the brilliance of its best songs. There is, of course, "Southern Nights," which Glen Campbell later took to the top of the charts, but it's nearly unrecognizable here, given a swirling, trippy arrangement that plays like a heat mirage. It's rivalled by the exquisite "What Do You Want the Girl to Do?," later covered by both Bonnie Raitt and Boz Scaggs, neither of which equal the beautiful, sighing resignation of Toussaint's impeccable vocal performance. Then, there are the songs that weren't covered, but should have been, like the nearly anthemic "Back in Baby's Arm," the rolling, catchy "Basic Lady," the stately "You Will Not Lose," or the steady-grooving end-of-the-night "When the Party's Over." Then, there are the songs that perhaps only Toussaint could sing, given their complex yet nimble grooves: witness how "Country John" seems like a simple, straight-ahead New Orleans raver but really switches tempo and rhythm over the course of the song, or how the monumental "Last Train" builds from its spare, funky opening to a multi-layered conclusion boasting one of Toussaint's best horn arrangements and vocal hooks. These disparate sounds may not be tied together by the interludes, as they were intended, but they nevertheless hold together because they're strong songs all bearing Toussaint's unmistakable imprint. They're so good that they nearly knock the "near" of off the near-masterpiece status for Southern Nights, and they're the reason why the album should be a part of any serious soul collection. AMG.

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