Word: butterfields
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WELL, I LIKE a lot of the new groups. The Beatles. The Beards, whatever. The musicians are better--Mike Bloomfield, Eric Clapton, Butterfield, Jimi Hendrix. "The studios are better": 12-72 track, incredible microphones, stereo. Stereo wasn't even invented when Elvis first came out. "The engineers are better": Shadow Martin. Phil Spector. Jimmy Miller. George Martin...
Feinstein's movie has everything a movie about his subject should have, I guess: social protest, flower children, music (The Electric Flag, Peter Yarrow, Paul Butterfield, Tiny Tim) and the accompanying dances, psychedelic sequences, meditation, grass, sex. He has filmed the whole thing with the wild abandon we presumably associate with hippiedom: the camera bounces up and down, zooms in and out, swings all over the place. Similarly, the picture has been flamboyantly edited; no sequence stays on the screen very long, and Feinstein often cuts back to bits he has established earlier. Still, for all its airs of freedom...
...mean that white musicians by definition don't have soul? A very few Negroes will concede that such white singers as Frank Sinatra and Peggy Lee have it, and Aretha also nominates Frenchman Charles Aznavour. A few more will accept such blues-oriented whites as the Righteous Brothers, Paul Butterfield, and England's Stevie Winwood?largely because their sound is almost indistinguishable from Negro performers'. But for the most part, Negroes leave it up to whites to defend the idea of "blue-eyed soul," whether by the criterion of talent, experience or temperament. Janis Joplin argues it this way: "There...
...BUTTERFIELD BLUES BAND: THE RESURRECTION OF PIGBOY CRABSHAW (Elektra). Few forms of music sound more authentic than lowdown blues, and Butterfield's band provides a refreshing collection of wild wails about oldtime, alltime troubles. While the style is no newer than the subjects, it is good to hear young musicians who have rediscovered the compelling mournfulness of harmonicas, saxophones and on-key melodies...
...across the U.S. All that has been relegated to memory-and to the big-band buffs. These are the forlorn breed of fanatics who can not only instantly identify Artie Shaw's 1940 recording of Stardust but can even name the trumpet and trombone soloists on it (Billy Butterfield and Jack Jenney), and who thrive as much on nonmusical nostalgia as on genuine musical connoisseurship...