https://soundcloud.com/he3project
HE3 Project – Chapter Three
Sello:
Family Groove Records – FG-5000LP, Family Groove Records – FG-5000
Formato:
2 × Vinyl, LP, Album
País:
US
Publicado:
27 Nov 2012
Género:
Jazz, Funk / Soul
Estilo:
Soul-Jazz, Funk
Lista de Títulos
A1 Dark Angels
A2 The Message
A3 Civilization
B1 Smoothing Along WIth The Smoothies
B2 Feelin Good Cause It Feels Good
B3 Artesian Wells
C1 This Is The Struggle
C2 To Be True
C3 Strength
D1 Shake A Leg Woman
D2 Dark Angels (Alt Take)
D3 Civilization (Alt Take)
Compañías, etc.
Recorded At – CBS Studios
Recorded At – Roy Chen
Recorded At – Different Fur Studios
Recorded At – Coast Recorders
Mixed At – Flying Carpet Studios
Mastered At – Bob Lanzner
Créditos
Bass – Charles Fletcher, Johnny Yu
Drums – Glen Cronkhite*
Flute, Saxophone – Hadley Caliman
Guitar – Joe West (10), Terry Mederios
Liner Notes – Herman Eberitzsch
Mixed By – Kamal Humphrey
Percussion – Kenneth Nash
Piano, Piano [Fender Rhodes, Echoplex, Screwdriver] – Herman Eberitzsch
Producer – Daniel Borine, Herman Eberitzsch
Vocals – Julia Tillman Waters, Maxine Waters
Notas
Intro sticker: "HE3 Project Chapter Three: The 3rd installment of previously unreleased Psychedelic Jazz, Soul & Funk from the Bay Area. 2LP FG-5000 Family Groove Records"
"Previously unreleased material recorded 1971 - 1973 in San Francisco, CA at Mercury Sound Studios (Coast Recorders,) Roy Chen & Different Fur."
© 2012 Family Groove Records
Set in full color gatefold picture cover.
HE3 Project – Chapter One
Sello:
Family Groove Records – FG-3000
Formato:
CD, Album
País:
US
Publicado:
2010
Género:
Funk / Soul
Estilo:
Lista de Títulos
1 Rapture Of The Deep
2 Funk Punk
3 Appreciation
4 Life Is Tourtred Love Affair
5 Make It Sweet
6 We All Have Our Own Lives
7 In A Soft & Subtle Way
8 Easy Come Easy Go
9 Funk Punk (Instrumental)
10 Rapture Of The Deep (Alt. Take)
Créditos
Engineer [Mix] – Henri Yonet
Mastered By – Henri Yonet
Producer – Daniel Borine
Written By – Herman Eberitzsch
Notas
Transferred from original 1" and 2" master tapes. 1971-1974
All songs previously unreleased
https://www.decks.de/track/he3_project-chapter_one/bva-gw
Few have had the opportunity to hear the brilliant music of virtuoso pianist, arranger, and songwriter, Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III. Known to his peers as "funky knuckles," Eberitzsch crafted an inimitable brand of psychedelic soul and funky jazz during San Francisco's much-fabled artistic and political awakening in the 60s and 70s. Yet, his boldly experimental music missed the ears of the right A&R man and never saw commercial release. The studio tapes found their way to Eberitzsch's basement where they remained for 35 years until a chance encounter with Family Groove Records. Over one decade's worth of Eberitzsch's original recordings will be mastered and released, resulting in a four-part compilation entitled the HE3 Project.
The first chapter of the HE3 Project features Eberitzsch's trailblazing efforts from three distinct recording sessions spanning 1971 to '74. He brought a loose-knit quartet together in '71 to record a decidedly expressionistic approach to jazz and funk that they had cultivated in the city's avant-garde clubs and cafes. In '73, Eberitzsch joined members of Coke Escovedo's Latin group, Azteca, at Wally Heider and CBS studios to arrange and write demos for Coke's seminal, self-titled debut. And in '74, he brought in a full band, Motion, to record at Wally Heider -- with songstress Linda Tillery (The Loading Zone) an unknown soul singer named Johnny Lovett on lead vocals and a Tower-Of-Power strength horn section.
Eberitzsch brought this experimental ethos to the studio where he played around with recording techniques. With a child's amusement, he used an old fashioned Fender Echoplex in "Rapture" and applied a screwdriver to his Hammond keyboard in "Massage" to create wobbling effects. He then manipulated the tape loop, searching loosely for weird sounds that would produce warped textures. The strange, idiosyncratic sounds created in the process helped to shape the psychedelic quality of the music. Yet it never smothers itself in abstraction. "It's still earthy because it was manipulated not by machines," he explains while laughing, "but by the hands of the monkey man!"
The HE3 Project, emerging nearly four decades after its inception, is as strikingly moving and fresh as ever. TIP! [rh txt from ]
https://hydramag.wordpress.com/2010/03/31/herman-eberitzsch-jr-iii-the-rise-of-music-archiving/
Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III: The Rise of Recorded Music Archiving
Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III in the early 70s
The medium of recorded music has reached a pivotal age in its maturation. The origins of recording technology reach back well over a century (the earliest phonograph recordings date to the late 1800s), and the most longstanding traditions of American music– blues, folk, rock– now penetrate the ears and hearts of over three generations. And while some preservationists have dug into the forgotten eras of American music before (i.e. Harry Smith’s impressive folk anthologies), the archival practice has never surpassed a rarefied community of collectors and enthusiasts.It takes a centrifugal force of longevity and history for us to collectively begin the process of cyclical reflection on an artistic medium–where we can look at our history anew, allowing us to both rediscover lost artifacts and actualize latent possibilities. That time may have come.
This week archival imprint Family Groove Records released never before heard material from Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III, the first chapter of a four part series entitled the HE3 Project. An arranger, songwriter, and funky keyboardist, Eberitzsch recorded scores of songs during San Francisco’s psychedelic heyday throughout the 70s. He crafted experimental jazz-funk (“Rapture of the Deep”), uplifting psych-soul (“Make It Sweet”), and grooves grounded in knocking percussion and a powerhouse horn section (“Love is a Tortured Love Affair”). But, Eberitzsch never caught a break. Major labels skirted record deal after record deal, leaving Eberitzsch to one last resort: store the tapes in the basement–where they’ve been for the past four decades, waiting for their unlikely resuscitation.
While a number of archival imprints (Now-Again, Numero Group, Light in the Attic) have reissued obscure funk, soul, and jazz during the last decade, they rarely risk putting out unheard music. Or, when they do, it tends to be recorded music from already known artists (Betty Davis, 24-Carat Black, Jimi Hendrix).
But, I cannot help but wonder how many other glanced over musicians like Eberitzsch are out there. How many musicians for one reason or another (too experimental, too strange, lazy, untimely, brilliant. . .) recorded music but never found a way to distribute it and gain recognition? How many of those musicians decided to store the original tapes, glued to a last hope that one day they might just reach a larger audience following the infamous stories of Van Gogh’s post-mortem appreciation? And then, of course, how many of those will we even find?
[Read more about the origins of the HE3 Project]
https://sfbgarchive.48hills.org/sfbgarchive/2010/03/23/lost-san-francisco-saga/
MUSIC In 1971, Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III decided it was time to record and somehow save his organic experiences of playing at clubs and avant-garde cafes in the city. He assembled a quartet from his “grapevine of connections” — including good friend Joe West, a Rasputin-looking guitarist, whom Eberitzsch originally met at the Post Office — and booked sessions at Roy Chen’s recording studio in Chinatown. With no previous studio background, Eberitzsch rehearsed the musicians, taught them the arrangements, and guided their inspiration in a quest for abysmal funk and thunderous jazz. These sessions produced an enchanting trip into “Rapture of the Deep,” a left-field meditation on rebellious passion, “Funk Punk,” and the ethereal moral fable “Dark Angels.” The unrestrained songs pull you head over heels into their internal worlds; their oceanic tides carry you great distances. Still, Atlantic Records saw no commercial success in the tapes, finding them much too experimental, and shelved the project.
Undaunted, Eberitzsch invested in a new quintet, Motion, “to bring some bread to the table.” He met Coke Escovedo along the way and joined his frenetic Latin outfit Azteca in 1973. During the first rehearsal, Eberitzsch called out “I got a tune!” as soon as a silence held the conversation. He taught them heavy joints that “came from outer space” — including “Life is a Tortured Love Affair,” “Make It Sweet,” and “Rebirth.” These songs would help land the contract for Coke’s seminal solo debut. They demonstrated Eberitzsch’s gift for concise, soulful lyricism, a quality he would cultivate over the course of his songwriting ventures.
Feeling reassured of his own talents and industry potential after such a success, Eberitzsch moved on to spearhead a new project with his close friend and lead singer, Johnny Lovett. He herded the grapevine once again, including songstress Linda Tillery, and brought Motion to Wally Heider studios in 1974. Always one to incorporate past experiences, Eberitzsch fused the propulsive pathos of Latin funk into his broad-flowing musical direction. The verdant, multilayered arrangements and groove-laden percussion were augmented by surging horn riffs and a lush string section.
These songs by Motion were tighter in form, shaped in part by Eberitizsch’s focus on concise lyrical narratives: testaments of joy and calls for solidarity in the face of injustice. It was the wake of the civil rights era, although America’s failed political experiment of dreaming national unity did not so much destroy idealism as redirect its boundless strength to a more grassroots level. “Our music was simply a product of people coming together in a community and expressing ourselves,” says Eberitzsch. “It was a groundswell of inspiration.” But Columbia also “didn’t hear it at the time,” and another set of tapes found their way to Eberitzsch’s basement.
These setbacks still didn’t disillusion Eberitzsch. He recorded at Different Fur Studios in 1976 and established the loose framework for an adventurous modern soul sound he would continue to develop and transform for the next five years. He worked extensively on Lee Oskar’s solo effort and collaborated once again with Greg Errico. He would record more challenging work in the late 1970s and early ’80s, fragmenting and experimenting with untapped techniques of musicality. (In 1984, he made “Morons,” a confessional tale about rude, party-crashers who eat all the furniture — something of a coarse minimal-wave racket destined to go viral on tomorrow’s blogosphere.)
Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III in the early 70s
The medium of recorded music has reached a pivotal age in its maturation. The origins of recording technology reach back well over a century (the earliest phonograph recordings date to the late 1800s), and the most longstanding traditions of American music– blues, folk, rock– now penetrate the ears and hearts of over three generations. And while some preservationists have dug into the forgotten eras of American music before (i.e. Harry Smith’s impressive folk anthologies), the archival practice has never surpassed a rarefied community of collectors and enthusiasts.It takes a centrifugal force of longevity and history for us to collectively begin the process of cyclical reflection on an artistic medium–where we can look at our history anew, allowing us to both rediscover lost artifacts and actualize latent possibilities. That time may have come.
This week archival imprint Family Groove Records released never before heard material from Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III, the first chapter of a four part series entitled the HE3 Project. An arranger, songwriter, and funky keyboardist, Eberitzsch recorded scores of songs during San Francisco’s psychedelic heyday throughout the 70s. He crafted experimental jazz-funk (“Rapture of the Deep”), uplifting psych-soul (“Make It Sweet”), and grooves grounded in knocking percussion and a powerhouse horn section (“Love is a Tortured Love Affair”). But, Eberitzsch never caught a break. Major labels skirted record deal after record deal, leaving Eberitzsch to one last resort: store the tapes in the basement–where they’ve been for the past four decades, waiting for their unlikely resuscitation.
While a number of archival imprints (Now-Again, Numero Group, Light in the Attic) have reissued obscure funk, soul, and jazz during the last decade, they rarely risk putting out unheard music. Or, when they do, it tends to be recorded music from already known artists (Betty Davis, 24-Carat Black, Jimi Hendrix).
But, I cannot help but wonder how many other glanced over musicians like Eberitzsch are out there. How many musicians for one reason or another (too experimental, too strange, lazy, untimely, brilliant. . .) recorded music but never found a way to distribute it and gain recognition? How many of those musicians decided to store the original tapes, glued to a last hope that one day they might just reach a larger audience following the infamous stories of Van Gogh’s post-mortem appreciation? And then, of course, how many of those will we even find?
[Read more about the origins of the HE3 Project]
https://sfbgarchive.48hills.org/sfbgarchive/2010/03/23/lost-san-francisco-saga/
MUSIC In 1971, Herman Eberitzsch Jr. III decided it was time to record and somehow save his organic experiences of playing at clubs and avant-garde cafes in the city. He assembled a quartet from his “grapevine of connections” — including good friend Joe West, a Rasputin-looking guitarist, whom Eberitzsch originally met at the Post Office — and booked sessions at Roy Chen’s recording studio in Chinatown. With no previous studio background, Eberitzsch rehearsed the musicians, taught them the arrangements, and guided their inspiration in a quest for abysmal funk and thunderous jazz. These sessions produced an enchanting trip into “Rapture of the Deep,” a left-field meditation on rebellious passion, “Funk Punk,” and the ethereal moral fable “Dark Angels.” The unrestrained songs pull you head over heels into their internal worlds; their oceanic tides carry you great distances. Still, Atlantic Records saw no commercial success in the tapes, finding them much too experimental, and shelved the project.
Undaunted, Eberitzsch invested in a new quintet, Motion, “to bring some bread to the table.” He met Coke Escovedo along the way and joined his frenetic Latin outfit Azteca in 1973. During the first rehearsal, Eberitzsch called out “I got a tune!” as soon as a silence held the conversation. He taught them heavy joints that “came from outer space” — including “Life is a Tortured Love Affair,” “Make It Sweet,” and “Rebirth.” These songs would help land the contract for Coke’s seminal solo debut. They demonstrated Eberitzsch’s gift for concise, soulful lyricism, a quality he would cultivate over the course of his songwriting ventures.
Feeling reassured of his own talents and industry potential after such a success, Eberitzsch moved on to spearhead a new project with his close friend and lead singer, Johnny Lovett. He herded the grapevine once again, including songstress Linda Tillery, and brought Motion to Wally Heider studios in 1974. Always one to incorporate past experiences, Eberitzsch fused the propulsive pathos of Latin funk into his broad-flowing musical direction. The verdant, multilayered arrangements and groove-laden percussion were augmented by surging horn riffs and a lush string section.
These songs by Motion were tighter in form, shaped in part by Eberitizsch’s focus on concise lyrical narratives: testaments of joy and calls for solidarity in the face of injustice. It was the wake of the civil rights era, although America’s failed political experiment of dreaming national unity did not so much destroy idealism as redirect its boundless strength to a more grassroots level. “Our music was simply a product of people coming together in a community and expressing ourselves,” says Eberitzsch. “It was a groundswell of inspiration.” But Columbia also “didn’t hear it at the time,” and another set of tapes found their way to Eberitzsch’s basement.
These setbacks still didn’t disillusion Eberitzsch. He recorded at Different Fur Studios in 1976 and established the loose framework for an adventurous modern soul sound he would continue to develop and transform for the next five years. He worked extensively on Lee Oskar’s solo effort and collaborated once again with Greg Errico. He would record more challenging work in the late 1970s and early ’80s, fragmenting and experimenting with untapped techniques of musicality. (In 1984, he made “Morons,” a confessional tale about rude, party-crashers who eat all the furniture — something of a coarse minimal-wave racket destined to go viral on tomorrow’s blogosphere.)
A WISE INNOCENCE
“The music was very innocent,” Eberitzsch says. “We worked from a standpoint not so much of knowledge but of an ignorance of where we were going. We really were crawling to stand, to walk, to run. It was pure.” But by forsaking formula and conventional pop structures, Eberitzsch was able to craft a unique outsider sound hinged on his restless yet determinate spirit to create new dimensions of possibility in his music.
Eberitzsch brought that explorer’s ethos to the studio, where he played around with recording techniques. With a child’s amusement, he used an old- fashioned Fender Echoplex in “Rapture,” and applied a screwdriver to his Hammond keyboard to create wobbling noises. He then manipulated the tape loop, searching loosely for “weird sounds” that would produce warped textures. Those strange, idiosyncratic effects helped to shape the psychedelic, expanding quality of the music without smothering it in abstraction.
“It’s still earthy because it was manipulated not by machines, but by the hands of the monkey man,” Eberitzsch says with a laugh when discussing such techniques. He claims inspiration for his hands-on approach to technical play came in part from the infamous introductory scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey, where the protohuman chimpanzee throws a bone into the air and it turns, in a twist of editing magic, into a spaceship.
Eberitzsch’s creative hunger also guided his poignant lyrical ability. He wrote ebullient songs that rejoice in the sweeter tastes of life, with invigorating messages about overcoming life’s struggles. In “Life is a Tortured Love Affair,” singer Johnny Lovett laces his words with an incisive despair, yet still gathers the vigor to belt out, “You’ve got to keep improving.” The mood is matched in “Dark Angels,” where fluttering keys charge an uplifting groove contrasted by a mournful guitar riff.
Soulful compositions such as “Life is a Tortured Love Affair” and “Dark Angels” possess different shades of tension, suspending aggressive and nurturing forces in a dynamic balance of sound and energy. While reaching to empower and gathering the courage to hope, the songs returned to sober realizations about “the nonresolvable conflicts of civilization.” Yet even today, Eberitzsch exudes a wise innocence, remaining simply and impossibly idealistic. “I wrote songs that have great messages about how it could be better,” he says.
Ecstatic that the world finally wants to hear his earthy psychedelia, Eberitzsch searches for some reason behind the new twist in his fate. “There’s a need for music that was from an era with a lot of vibrancy, wonderful messages, incredible originality, and spiritual feeling,” he says. Eberitzsch is right. His music not only embodies that iconic era of the Bay Area, but also, like a prism, distorts and enriches it from a new angle. It reminds us that much of this particular history has yet to be heard — let alone written. “That’s why the tapes ended up in the garage,” he reflects. “I thought somebody, some day, is going to end up in the garage and blow the sand off this cryptic message.”
Part one of “A lost San Francisco saga” ran in the March 17, 2010 issue of the Guardian. It can be found online at www.sfbg.com/2010/03/16/lost-san-francisco-saga.
Family Groove Records is releasing the HE3 Project: Chapter One on March 30. For more information, go to www.familygrooverecords.com.
“The music was very innocent,” Eberitzsch says. “We worked from a standpoint not so much of knowledge but of an ignorance of where we were going. We really were crawling to stand, to walk, to run. It was pure.” But by forsaking formula and conventional pop structures, Eberitzsch was able to craft a unique outsider sound hinged on his restless yet determinate spirit to create new dimensions of possibility in his music.
Eberitzsch brought that explorer’s ethos to the studio, where he played around with recording techniques. With a child’s amusement, he used an old- fashioned Fender Echoplex in “Rapture,” and applied a screwdriver to his Hammond keyboard to create wobbling noises. He then manipulated the tape loop, searching loosely for “weird sounds” that would produce warped textures. Those strange, idiosyncratic effects helped to shape the psychedelic, expanding quality of the music without smothering it in abstraction.
“It’s still earthy because it was manipulated not by machines, but by the hands of the monkey man,” Eberitzsch says with a laugh when discussing such techniques. He claims inspiration for his hands-on approach to technical play came in part from the infamous introductory scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey, where the protohuman chimpanzee throws a bone into the air and it turns, in a twist of editing magic, into a spaceship.
Eberitzsch’s creative hunger also guided his poignant lyrical ability. He wrote ebullient songs that rejoice in the sweeter tastes of life, with invigorating messages about overcoming life’s struggles. In “Life is a Tortured Love Affair,” singer Johnny Lovett laces his words with an incisive despair, yet still gathers the vigor to belt out, “You’ve got to keep improving.” The mood is matched in “Dark Angels,” where fluttering keys charge an uplifting groove contrasted by a mournful guitar riff.
Soulful compositions such as “Life is a Tortured Love Affair” and “Dark Angels” possess different shades of tension, suspending aggressive and nurturing forces in a dynamic balance of sound and energy. While reaching to empower and gathering the courage to hope, the songs returned to sober realizations about “the nonresolvable conflicts of civilization.” Yet even today, Eberitzsch exudes a wise innocence, remaining simply and impossibly idealistic. “I wrote songs that have great messages about how it could be better,” he says.
Ecstatic that the world finally wants to hear his earthy psychedelia, Eberitzsch searches for some reason behind the new twist in his fate. “There’s a need for music that was from an era with a lot of vibrancy, wonderful messages, incredible originality, and spiritual feeling,” he says. Eberitzsch is right. His music not only embodies that iconic era of the Bay Area, but also, like a prism, distorts and enriches it from a new angle. It reminds us that much of this particular history has yet to be heard — let alone written. “That’s why the tapes ended up in the garage,” he reflects. “I thought somebody, some day, is going to end up in the garage and blow the sand off this cryptic message.”
Part one of “A lost San Francisco saga” ran in the March 17, 2010 issue of the Guardian. It can be found online at www.sfbg.com/2010/03/16/lost-san-francisco-saga.
Family Groove Records is releasing the HE3 Project: Chapter One on March 30. For more information, go to www.familygrooverecords.com.
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