The best disco in town

Bezinky & Pražské smyčce – Žiješ v éře diskoték (The Best Disco In Town)
from compilation “Disco klub”, 1978, Panton 110717
conducted by Jiří Hrábek


original compilation cover

What was valid thirty years ago still seems to be valid today – we’re living in a disco era. And this week I have the pleasure to present you literally the best disco in town:

Saturday, June 7, 23:00 h
Kuppel Basel
Czech Oldies Party with DJ Lou Kash

The opportunity for this event should be pretty obvious. So… if you (unlike me) are interested in this, the chances are that you might find yourself in Basel this Saturday. And since you already are reading this blog, it’s very likely that you will then appreciate our little party, too.
See you in the Kuppel!

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Shotgun

The Matadors – Shotgun
from album “The Matadors”, 1968, Supraphon 0130493/1130493 (mono/stereo), Supraphon/Artia SUA13992/SUAST53992 (mono/stereo), reissued 1995 on CD Bonton 710244-2
produced by Jaromír Tůma


original LP sleeve, export reissue sleeve

Between 1966 and 1968 the Matadors belonged to the best beat groups in Czechoslovakia. At that time their enormous popularity might have been threatened only by the equally experienced “veterans” Olympic. (By comparing the former with the latter, think e.g. the never ending “Stones vs. Beatles” dispute…) So it was no coincidence that the Matadors were the second rock band after Olympic to have a full long player recorded and released by Supraphon in 1968. And it’s no coincidence either that their only album still belongs to the most sought-after items from former Czechoslovakia among vinyl collectors worldwide, being an undisputed classic of the so called freak-beat or psych-beat genre.

The band was mainly influenced by british R&B acts like Them, Pretty Things, Yardbirds, John Mayall’s Heartbreakers or even the Kinks and the Who. But like many other Czech groups around 1967 and 1968, also the Matadors couldn’t resist the infectious grooves from the omnipresent soul craze all over the world. Moreover since they were frequently playing abroad, particularly doing a Switzerland night club tour through the winter 1967/1968, where they were often asked to play popular dance tracks from the charts.

In this context it’s not surprising that the album song Shotgun nicely fits into this blog’s scope. Unlike Junior Walker’s proto-funk original however, the Matadors’ version speeds up the tempo quite a bit and adds a trace of a Hendrix-like rock feeling due to heavy use of wah-wah guitar; lead guitarist Radim Hladík (1946) was the Czechoslovak pioneer in using the wah-wah pedal to such an extent, that he supposedly even invented the now commonly used Czech word for that device: kvákadlo. And also lead singer Viktor Sodoma (1945) must have been in a good shape on this recording date. His English phrasing is precise and he doesn’t shout as “over-the-top” as on some other Matadors tracks.

The overall production quality of the whole album is rather bad though. The “old school” Supraphon recording engineers of the 1960s didn’t have a clue how to put this kind of music to tape, not to speak of the poor vinyl mastering. Especially Otto Bezloja’s (1945–2001) bass guitar and Tony Black’s (1946) drums suffer from the thin sound. And if there ever was Jan “Farmer” Obermeyer’s (1944) Matador organ on this very track, it’s nowhere to be heard now. (To illustrate these issues, one of the popular anecdotes is, that on an earlier recoding date an engineer supposedly thought that Hladík’s amplifier was broken after he switched on his overdrive pedal for the first time…)

The full Matadors story has been excellently documented in Aleš Opekar’s authorized biography book The Matadors – Beatová aristokracie z Prahy (Oftis 2007, ISBN 978-80-86845-91-3). While the book is written in Czech language only, it contains not only lots of photos and commonly understandable biographical data, but also a bonus CD with previously unreleased live recordings from 1966! (Hey, remember my interlude from last October…?) So if you are a serious collector of Czechoslovak oldies, this book belongs to your collection even if you don’t understand a word Czech. But as I’ve already noted last year, don’t expect any hi-fi quality – it is a historical document.

Speaking of the Matadors story: last year in June I’ve coincidentally discovered that the English Wikipedia already has an article about The Matadors. Originally it was so full of errors then that I’ve decided to clean it up as well as to add some less known facts about the band. At that time I’ve already read Aleš’s nearly completed manuscript, so my informations were first hand. Hence I won’t repeat what I’ve already put together in a more or less serious form elsewhere (although the Wikipedia article isn’t complete yet). But for regular readers of Funky Czech-In it will be of interest when I point out the connections between other Czech groups and artists previously posted here, like Flamengo, Vladimír Mišík or Komety.

The Matadors album has been reissued in 1995 on CD, which also contains all tracks but one released on seven inches and Supraphon samplers between 1966 and 1968. It’s out of print but it still pops up for sale here and there on the web. There’s also a Korean CD reissue available, but as I’ve been told by Jan Obermayer recently, it’s quite likely a bootleg, as are most of the other releases on various low budget samplers in the past 10–15 years all over the world. Still, some Matadors tracks appeared every now and then on some of the protagonists’ official Best Of compilations, like Sodoma’s or Mišík’s.

The export version of the vinyl LP was pressed by Supraphon/Artia way into the late 1970s, so it should be still around in quite sufficient quantity. In other words: don’t believe a record dealer who wants to sell you an overpriced Matadors copy in the black export sleeve, praising it as the “original pressing”. They are not! That applies also to the old Czech reissues in a half-generic Supraphon sleeve with overprinted text. The true rarity is solely the original Czech issue with the colored logotype – particularly the stereo edition – provided it’s in top condition. Because being likely a popular record to be played at way too many wild parties then, most are probably not in the best shape these days anymore. Anyway, don’t get fooled. ;)

There are chances that an official reissue of the complete Matadors recordings will be available within the next few years (to express it rather pessimistically). In any case you will find out about it here first. Simply stay tuned to the RSS feed.


Ex-Matadors Vladimír Mišík, Jan F. Obermayer and Radim Hladík with Lou Kash at the backstage of the Lucerna Music Bar, March 31, 2008, right after one of their annual reunion gigs. (photo: Aleš Opekar)

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Brom: If all deuces got married

Gustav Brom Orchestra – I kdyby se všichni čerti ženili
from a 7 inch, 1961, Supraphon 013421


an original Supraphon generic 7" sleeve, label

Of course, it’s been looong overdue to introduce you to bandleader Gustav Brom (1921–1995) and his orchestra, but I’ve been holding off of posting until my Brom record collection becomes a bit wider. Now that I have gathered nearly twenty Brom Orchestra albums from 1960 until 1982, lots of tracks on singles, EPs and compilations as well as numerous songs with Brom backing popular singers, there’s plenty of representative material to choose from. Because unlike most of my previous articles on Funky Czech-In, in this very case I’d like to proceed more chronologically and encyclopedically. My goal is to cover Brom’s most attractive period (according to the definition of this blog, that is) spanning from the mid 1960s until the early 1980s in several articles over this year.

Gustav Brom wasn’t very conservative when it came to musical genres and styles. Ever since he founded his own band in 1940 until his death in 1995, the repertoire spanned from big band swing, dixieland, bebop, third stream, latin jazz or exotica over easy listening pop, schlager and brass music to soul-jazz, jazz-rock, jazz funk, disco etc. Generally, on the plus side it means that the orchestra has been as versatile as it only could be. But in particular, for a nowadays record collector the drawback of this concept surely is, that not all of the Gustav Brom releases are worth grabbing, of course. I for one am not a particular lover of genres like brass music or dixieland, and the orchestra’s pure swing albums from the 1970s and later are not necessarily on my radar either.

In order to tune into the series, let’s begin with one of the scarce recordings where you can actually hear Mr. Brom singing personally. I kdyby se všichni čerti ženili (Even If All Deuces Got Married) is a lovely little novelty calypso composed by Saša Grossman with lyrics by Zdeněk Borovec. The Czech title as well as the lyrics is a word play with an old Czech expression which you can freely translate as “even if it would rain and storm like hell”. The musicians on this recordings probably were František Navrátil, Zdeněk Novák, Bronislav Horák, Josef Audes, Lubomír Řezanina, Jaromír Hnilička, Alfa Šmíd, Stanislav Veselý, Oldřich Blaha, Milan Řežábek and Václav Skála.

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My hobbyhorse

Pražský výběr – Můj koníček
from album “Pražský výběr” a.k.a. “Straka v hrsti”, 1988, Panton 810826-1311
recorded in 1982, produced by Josef Novotný


1988 issue LP sleeve (front/back)

I was thinking about a Czech song which has personally influenced me the most in the past. But already the criteria definition – what’s an influence – isn’t a clear task. As a child in the mid seventies I was a big fan of Banjo Band Ivana Mládka (Ivan Mládek’s Banjo Band) whose funny yet clever lyrics appealed both to my contemporaries as well as to the adults. Listening to Mládek’s pseudo-dixieland definitely inspired me to pick up a guitar – a banjo was too expensive – and to write my own songs when I was about twelve. Then as a teenager in the early eighties I’ve discovered the bluesy folk of Vladimír Mišík and Vlasta Třešňák. You know, technically I’m a horrible “singer”, thus their rather non-melodic vocal style fitted me quite well while I was trying hard to become one of their epigones, paraphrasing Třešňák’s songwriting and imitating Mišík’s singing. But the true revolution arrived in 1983 or 1984 during one of our visits in Prague when my half-brother’s uncle (himself an excellent blues guitarist) gave us a cassette copy of the hippest new wave band that ever appeared on Czech stages of the early 1980s: Pražský výběr.

Michael Kocáb (1954) founded Pražský výběr (The Prague Selection – a reference to a cheap Czech wine brand) in 1976 as an offshoot of his schoolmate Milan Svoboda’s Pražský big band (Prague Big Band). In the beginning they were just a young jazz rock combo of conservatory students who played instrumental and at times very complex tracks. I will cover that period in a future post later this year. While the group never officially disbanded at the end of the decade, eventually the jazz musicians around Kocáb went their own ways. Around 1980 he teamed up with ex-Bohemia guitarist Michal Pavlíček and drummer Jiří Hrubeš, who were already a steady duo on their own, be it as members of the explosive jazz rock combo Expanze (undocumented on records) or backing Jana Koubková under her Horký dech (Hot Breath) moniker. And the trio Kocáb/Pavlíček/Hrubeš already worked together when they recorded Petr Klapka’s second Mahagon album in 1979. Although Pavlíček intended to play new wave instead of the fading jazz rock, they decided to reuse the Pražský výběr trademark, likely because the group still officially existed for the bureaucratic communist authorities. At first they performed as a quintet with bass player Ondřej Soukup – who would soon switch to the more lucrative Karel Gott Orchestra – and with the formerly ubiquitous percussionist Jiří Tomek, acting here as a singer and dancer. In 1981 Tomek left as well; obviously he used to have quite an alcohol problem, as I have been told recently by a musician who used to play with him quite often in the seventies. Kocáb & co. then persuaded the bass player from the popular underground punk-jazz outfit Zikkurat to join them, Vilém Čok.

As Kocáb once put it: “It can be hard to play new wave when you actually know how to play.” But the blend of complex jazzy synthesizer lines with a straight 4/4 beat, repetitive bass riffs, a virtuosic guitar floating above it all, as well as highly ironical lyrics (written mostly by František Ringo Čech), that all created a unique and instantly recognizable sound never heard before, at least not in the Middle and Eastern Europe. Crossbreed the late Frank Zappa with Talking Heads and you might get something like Pražský výběr.

In 1982 Pražský výběr recorded their new wave album, some tracks also appeared in Juraj Herz’ avant-gardist movie Straka v hrsti (A Magpie In The Hand). But before the record was ready for a release in 1983, both the movie and the group were banned by the authorities and the musicians were prohibited from performing in the public for nearly two years. The album was withdrawn and destroyed before even reaching the shelves. However, it didn’t take very long and someone managed to smuggle a copy of the master tape out of the recording studio archives, giving a couple of cassette copies to friends who themselves made copies and gave them to their friends and so on, quickly making Pražský výběr the best known rock group in the country. In the meantime, being professional musicians, all members tried to make living by working on their former side projects or playing as backing musicians. Pavlíček, for example, after two years of depression he became very successful with his pop-jazz-rock-wave crossover project Stromboli. Hrubeš on the other hand couldn’t stand the pressure and eventually emigrated in 1985. But in the end the ban caused exactly the opposite effect than intended: along with a couple of other banned groups, Pražský výběr and its protagonists, although inactive from 1983 until 1985, they had more influence on rock and new wave fans and musicians than ever before. By 1985 the independent music scene in Czechoslovakia flourished and the authorities began to lose control over it. (Check out the underground movie Hudba 85 (Music 85) by Lexa Guha, Vladislav Burda and Petr Ryba, recently released on DVD for the first time!)

In 1986 the band was allowed to return on stage with a new drummer as Výběr. They recorded quite a solid self-titled rock album in 1987 and one year later also the original Straka v hrsti album finally found its way onto the vinyl grooves and to the audience. The times were “a-changing” and even the sleeve cartoon contained an unbelievably straight and sarcastic political joke. Výběr continued with a successful career for a couple of years to come and it still sort of exists to the present day, although both main actors obviously split up in a heavy wrangle recently.

Můj koníček (My Hobbyhorse), also known as Krysy (The Rats), was always my favorite track from Pražský výběr’s clandestine tape (and later from the album). Cool, funky and minimalist, with Pavlíček’s sparse guitar effects illustrating an apparent non-sense story of a guy whose hobby is to watch mice and rats snooping around his basement. Every single sound has its place. A song near perfection.

~

Around 1986 – in times when Pražský výběr was still banned in Czechoslovakia – we used to play a cover version of this tune with our Swiss group Ugly Bluz. We tried another approach regarding the arrangement though, mapping the rhythm guitar to our three-piece horn section and giving the song more of a free-funk touch; at that time we were heavily inspired by groups like Defunkt, Slickaphonics, the early and still unknown Red Hot Chili Peppers or by James Blood Ulmer. This unreleased recording was made in summer 1987 by our friend Hannes Lange, shortly before our band broke up. (If you’re fluent in German language, perhaps you may want to check out the complete story of Ugly Bluz for more details.)

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Emporium of the world

Karel Černoch – Tržnice světa [sample]
from album “Letiště”, 1975, Panton 110506


original album sleeve (front/back, © Petr Sís)

Quite a lot of Czech musicians passed away this year. Among others: the drummers Jan Antonín Pacák (1941) and Anatolij Kohout (1946), the composer Karel Svoboda (1938) the bass player Pavel Pešta (1948) or one of the pioneers of Czech rock’n’roll, Petr Kaplan (1940). And yesterday the Czech pop music scene has lost one of its most competent vocalists: Karel Černoch (1943) who died of colon cancer.

Karel Černoch began singing in the 1960s with various rock’n’roll and beat groups in Prague. Among international collectors he will be likely best remembered for his 1967–1968 recordings with Juventus: Ona se brání, 18 minut, Procitnutí or Zrcadlo. However, after 1970s his music output became rather inconsistent, i.e. not bound to any particular genre. He was travelling between soul, cheesy bubble-gum pop or country&western music, the latter becoming his passion from the 1980s on.

Still, at least for some parts of his discography you can truly state that nomen est omen: “černoch” means in Czech literally “black man”. And indeed, he was likely one of the very few vocalists in the world who was able to cover Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On (with Czech lyrics known as Věc koupená) so close to the original and yet without giving up a single bit of his personal style, nearly as he would have written this masterpiece himself. Of course, I will introduce that track in a future Funky Czech-In article along with more details to Černoch’s biography in general and this album in particular. Personally I reckon Letiště (The Airport) among the best Czechoslovak pop albums of the 20th century – besides of being one of the most soulful anyway – including the superb cover design by film maker Petr Sís.

Tržnice světa (The Emporium Of The World) is one of my other favorites from Letiště, penned by Černoch with imaginative lyrics from his longtime co-writer and former producer Pavel Žák. What seamingly begins as a singer/songwriter ballad, after one minute the song turns into a funky bossa nova driven by lively drums with loads of latin percussions, jazzy Fender Rhodes harmonies and with a typical Černoch scat solo towards the end. And what makes the track quite unique even in international context are the traces of rapping all along; keep in mind that around 1975 rap and hip hop was still four years away! The backing group was once again the ubiquitous Dance/Jazz Orchestra Of Czechoslovak Radio (TOČR/JOČR), probably with Karel Růžička on keyboards, Petr Kořínek on bass and Josef Vejvoda on drums. It’s not unlikely that Černoch himself played the acoustic rhythm guitar.

P.S. As an irony of fate: although my wife and me are not into celebrating christmas at all, last Monday I thought anyway that we could listen to a couple of “beat carols” and so I spinned two or three 45s on the turntable, all recorded in the late 1960s by Karel Černoch…

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Interlude: Popmuseum

Although it might seem that Funky Czech-In has fallen into a sort of cozy winter sleep, the opposite is true and there’s quite a lot of activities going on behind the scenes. For example: since two weeks I am an official member of the “Museum and Archive of Popular Music Association”, a.k.a. popmuseum.cz. One of the benefits for me will be, among others, the access to their archive in Prague with an almost complete collection of Czech music magazines from the 1960s–1990s as well as a large photo archive. And what more can make a bigbít researcher like me even happier than that…? Yes, you guessed it: buying records! Last week I’ve managed to transport about 30 kg of pure Czechoslovak vinyl home to Basel by airplane, and there’s still another fresh 15 kg stored in our family flat in Prague.
Of course, there’s some really tasty funky stuff in the pipeline, yum!
Stay tuned!


A part of the exposition at Popmuseum Prague (photo © 2007 loukash.com)

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Interlude: Spanish Czech-in

Sometimes I wish a day had at least thirty-two hours. So much music, so little time, as they say. Thus it happened that it’s been almost two weeks since Funky Czech-in was “on tour” in Madrid, Spain, and so this post is not exactly hot news anymore.

Anyway: thanks to Iñigo of Vampisoul we were guests on Charlie Faber’s insane radio show Sateli 3 live on Radio 3. The house was smokin’ and the receivers were explodin’ all over Iberia while we were airing hottest Czechoslovak bigbít from the sixties and the seventies! Only the best tracks were played, including some stuff that you already know from here. I hope to get the recording of the show soon to post it here as an MP3 stream. In the meantime tune into Sateli 3 live every evening from monday to friday, 9 to 10 pm CET. And while you’re already surfing, you may want to check out the nicely retro-designed funky site of Charlie’s friends at www.canora.es.


Lou Kash and Charlie Faber in a RNE studio (photo: © Iñigo Munster)

Until the full recording of the show arrives, here’s the first song that I’ve played:
Karel Vlach Orchestra – Tančíme twist [sample]
from 7 inch split single Supraphon 013434, around 1963


a generic seven inch Supraphon sleeve from the 1960s

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Marriage on Bear’s Meadow

Fermáta – Svadba na Medvedej lúke [sample]
from album “Pieseň z hôľ (Song From Ridges)”, 1976, Opus 91160521
produced by Štefan Danko & Ján Lauko


original LP sleeve (front/back)

Since June I’ve spent about one or two weeks each month in Prague for family duties, over six weeks in total. Tomorrow we’re going for yet another week to my home town. This time one of the reasons for our visit is quite pleasant, however. Ondra, my oldest friend for more than thirty years since our school days, is going to marry Markéta on Saturday. But other than that – there’s absolutely no connection between the upcoming event and the main subject of this article except for the first word of the title of this tune: Svadba na Medvedej lúke (Marriage On Bear’s Meadow). Well then – Happy Marriage! (Oh, and while we’re at it: Happy Birthday to my brother Daniel today!)

The Slovak guitar virtuoso František Griglák, born in 1953, was already a well respected and experienced musician before he even turned twenty. With Pavol Hammel he recorded the early albums Prúdy (The Jets) and Som šťastný keď ste šťastní (I Am Happy When You Are Happy) in 1970–1971. Afterwards he shifted to the other main Slovak progressive group of the seventies, Marián Varga’s Collegium Musicum, with whom he worked on the classic(al) double LP Konvergencie (Convergency). In 1973 Griglák established Fermáta as likely the first and for a few years the only professional and more or less straight instrumental jazz-rock combo in Slovakia. The other founding members were the keyboarder and professional stage designer Tomáš Berka (1947), bassist Anton Jaro (1954) as well as originally Pavol Kozma on drums, who was soon replaced by Peter Szapu and in 1976 by another ex-Prúdy member Cyril Zeleňák (1951).

Probably thanks to Berka’s daily job, in the beginning the group used to record lots of scenic themes for various Slovak theater productions, thus training their sense for transforming colors and atmosphere into music. Their self-titled debut album was released in 1975. While it was clearly inspired by jazz-rock heroes like Mahavishnu McLaughlin or Al DiMeola, it suffered from rather poor recording production. One year later, the second album Pieseň z hôľ (Song From Ridges) turned out much better. Not only from the technical but also from the conceptual point of view. Quoting from the English liner notes by Igor Wasserberger: “In Czechoslovak jazz-rock it is this record that presents the most complete essay to form a synthesis with elements of domestic folk music. (…) Fermáta avoid frequent ways of rock and jazz arrangement of folk songs and try to involve elements of [Slovak] folk music into their own musical tongue.”

While the aforementioned statement certainly applies, Svadba na Medvedej lúke (Marriage On Bear’s Meadow) remains an unusual tune in Fermáta’s repertoire. Firstly, written by Berka, Jaro and Zeleňák, it’s the only collective instrumental composition from the group’s 1970s output; all other tunes have been penned either by Griglák or by Berka. Secondly, the band leader Griglák doesn’t seem to participate on this track at all. And frankly, I don’t even miss him that much. [Hey, no personal offense… :) But despite being a guitarist myself, actually I quite dislike the guitar-driven pyrotechnical jazz-rock sub-genre in general; except for Zappa, that is.] The song begins with a drum/synthesizer simulation of a thunderstorm or something, likely happening somewhere in the woods of the Tatra mountains, which then takes us to the said meadow (which actually really exists) while it evolves into a laid back but joyous funky wedding groove carried by a lively bass and colored by wide Fender Rhodes chords floating out of the folk-influenced themes. In fact, the track reminds me of Billy Cobham’s early work from his Spectrum/Crosswind period. In any case, to me Fermáta never sounded as warm as on this track again, although their later albums also include a couple of jazz-funk inspired sequences here and there.

In 1977 Karol Oláh replaced Zeleňák on drums and Ladislav Lučenič became the new bass player. In 1979 yet another ex-Prúdy/Collegium Musicum (and even ex-Blue Effect) member joined in, the Slovak bass master Fedor Frešo. Besides of releasing their conceptual albums the group also used to work as a studio backing band for artists like Miroslav Žbirka (two singles in 1976), Pavol Hammel (Stretnutie s tichom and the first Czechoslovak rock-musical Cyrano z predmestia) or for Dežo Ursiny (Pevnina detstva). The original Fermáta disbanded in 1985 after Oláh’s tragical death. Griglák revived the group with new musicians in the 1990s and continues to tour actively to the present day.

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Working in the coal mine

Blue Swede – Working In The Coal Mine [sample]
from album “Hooked On A Feeling”, 1973, EMI ST-11286
produced by Bengt Palmers


original LP sleeve (front/back)

As you might have noticed, I have created a new label exclusively for this post, named Obscure Czech-In. That wasn’t without a reason because the other secondary label of this entry, Half Czech-In, is pure speculation on my part. To explain: I’ve found Hooked On A Feeling last year in a second hand record store (coincidentally it was in Prague, but that doesn’t matter here) and at first I thought, “well, yet another cheap one hit wonder from the seventies, nothing of interest for me.” On the second sight, however, there were three things that caught my attention: 1) the group had a “built-in” horn section (often a good sign), 2) they covered an Allen Toussaint song (they had taste!), and finally 3) the guy who’s credited to play clavinet and organ had a surprisingly Czechoslovak-sounding name – Ladislav Balaz [sic]. Well, to make a short story shorter, in the end I bought the record but except for a few tracks I was rather disappointed when I heard it at home. In the meantime I sold it again already.

Blue Swede were better known as Björn Skifs & Blåblus in their home country Sweden. Their international breakthrough came with a cover of B. J. Thomas’ hit Hooked On A Feeling, the title track of this album, which climbed up to no. 1 on the U.S. pop charts in 1974. The group’s style was kind of on the edge between early 70s pop and soulful brass-rock. At times they sounded almost like Chicago, for example, but still more on the pop side of things. The musicians who participated on this recording were, besides of Skifs, Jan Guldbäck (dr), Bo Liljedahl (b), Mikael Areklew (g), Tommy Berglund (tp), Hinke Ekestubbe (ts) and on keyboards the aforementioned Baláž (as the name should be spelled correctly in Czech or in Slovak).

Really, I surfed the word wild web for many long hours but I coudn’t find any other trace of a keyboarder named Ladislav Baláž except that he was playing on this particular record; I don’t think that he could be this guy, though. And interestingly enough, I can’t even hear much keyboards on this particular track either, unless it’s a clavinet and not a guitar in the centre of the stereo panorama when the verse is playing. Nevermind, whatever, Working In The Coal Mine is still my personal highlight of the album, despite the “Czech connection” perhaps being only a mirage. And besides of that, I’m definitely a fool for any Allen Toussaint song. Hence this is the first of only two opportunities known to me to post a Toussaint cover on this very blog in the first place…

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I keep on singing

Eva Olmerová & the Prague Big Band – Zpívám dál [sample]
from 7" single “Georgia”, 1980, Panton 81430053
conducted by Milan Svoboda, produced by Josef Novotný


original SP sleeve

It wouldn’t be appropriate to simply call Eva Olmerová a jazz singer, although the majority of her recorded material falls more or less into that category. But she also loved to sing blues, gospel, pop and even country & western music. Born in 1934, in her teen years she began to sing with dixieland groups in Prague’s coffee houses. Her professional career started relatively late in 1962, when she’s been discovered by composer Karel Mareš, the dramaturge of the Semafor theatre, who was looking for an Eva Pilarová replacement. At that time Olmerová recorded her first hit Jsi jako dlouhý most (You’re Like A Long Bridge) which eventually won the popular song contest “In search of a song for the weekday”.

However, Olmerová’s career probably had more downs than ups. The communist regime always kept an eye on her family, particularly because her grandfather used to be an assistant of the last democratic president Edvard Beneš. In the 1960s and 1970s she’d been regularly prohibited from performing. She also spent more than two years in jail: in 1958 for smacking an insolent police officer and in 1972 for a car accident while driving drunk. And the latter incident reveals that her other enemy was her own lifestyle; alcohol and medicament abuse often turned her unreliable both on stage and in studio…

Olmerová’s undisputed highlight was the debut album Jazz-Feeling, recorded in 1968 for Supraphon’s export subsidiary Artia, which made her quite popular abroad. (I will revisit it more thoroughly in a future Funky Czech-In entry next year.) In 1969 she’s been even asked by Ella Fitzgerald to join her world tour after both ladies jammed together on a river boat party in Prague! Yet the communist regime didn’t allow Olmerová to travel, not even inside the Eastern Bloc. Nevertheless, in 1974 Supraphon/Artia released another English-sung export album with traditional dixieland tunes, recorded between 1969 and 1972 in numerous sessions. But afterwards she slipped into obscurity for the rest of the decade.

She’s been “rediscovered” in the late 1970s by a young generation of jazz-rock musicians. Her new mentors were the keyboarders and bandleaders Milan Svoboda and – particularly in the early 1980s – Michael Kocáb, who both obviously appreciated Olmerová’s dirty voice as well as her untamed attitude. In 1979 she recorded two singles with Svoboda’s Pražský big band (Prague Big Band). Her later collaborations with Kocáb’s studio orchestra or with JOČR were documented on further 45s as well as on two nice pop-jazzy comeback LPs: Zahraj i pro mne (Play It For Me, Too), which in fact was her debut album (!) for the Czech market in 1981, and Vítr rváč (The Wind The Thug) two years later.

I’ve chosen Zpívám dál (I Keep On Singing) not only for its funky atmosphere, but especially because of its programmatic Czech title. While Olmerová likely didn’t deliver her best vocal performance ever from the technical point of view, in her voice you can truly feel the pain as well as the heavy weight of life that she had to carry on her shoulders. The tune is an arrangement of Clive Westlake’s ballad Only Once with Czech lyrics by Ronald Kraus: I keep on singing / Even through the veil of tears / My song is my medicine / My song is a soft muffler / I keep on singing / For all who wander aimlessly through the dark / For the love that I know / For those who are alone / I keep on singing for myself. As for the backing band, an article about the Prague Big Band is in the works and I will post it later this fall, so stay tuned.

Czech music critics have often compared Eva Olmerová to afro-american singers like Bessie Smith or Billie Holiday – not only for the blues in her voice but also for the blues in her life. One of the critics even wrote that she was the only Czech world-class female singer in the pop/jazz genre. But in any case, at her zenith she was never given a chance to introduce herself to the world in the first place.

She passed away in 1993 of liver cirrhosis. Jitka Zelenková sang at her funeral. And now, go and get her records. You’ll find Zpívám dál on the CD compilation Blues samotářky (Blues Of A Loner).

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I don’t want to have

Jitka Zelenková & The Gondolán Brothers Group – Já nechci mít [sample]
from 7 inch single “Čekej a neplakej”, 1969, Supraphon 0430818


original SP in a generic Supraphon sleeve

Jitka Zelenková was born in Brno in 1950. Her father was a symphony orchestra conductor, her mother sang with the Philharmonic Choir Prague. After winning several amateur singer contests, in 1968 she got an engagement at the renown Rokoko theatre in Prague where she performed with Waldemar Matuška or with Hana & Petr Ulrych. In 1973 she began to work as a background singer for Karel Gott. However, besides of recording a few singles as a solo artist and despite winning further awards at various Czechoslovak pop festivals, her solo career didn’t really took off before the end of the decade when Supraphon released her first solo album.

Multi-instrumentalist, singer and composer Antonín Gondolán was born in 1942 in Slovakia but his family moved to Bohemia two years later. At the age of merely 15 he got his first professional job with the Gustav Brom Orchestra. In the 1960s he studied double bass at the Prague Conservatory. In the mid 1960s he became a member of Prague’s Apollo theatre orchestra, Karel Gott’s backing band lead by the Štaidl brothers, with whom he also toured the USA in 1967. Back in Prague he founded a family combo with his brothers František, Jiří and Vojtěch, later joined by their teenage sister Věra on vocals (the Gondolán family were 12 siblings in total). In the late 1960s the group enjoyed big success at home and abroad, performing with major Czech pop stars like Gott, Waldemar Matuška or Helena Vondráčková. They played a unique blend of pop, beat and jazz with strong Romani folk influences. Besides of recording a couple of single sides on their own, they also used to back other singers on records. However, the family group disbanded in the early 1970s after most members with the exception of Antonín emigrated. He worked again as a freelance musician with Gott’s backing group (alias Ladislav Štaidl Orchestra), among others, until 1982 when he eventually exiled to West Germany as well. From then on he concentrated on playing jazz in general and double bass – his main instrument – in particular. In 1992 he returned back to the Czech republic. In 2004 he finally had the opportunity to release his long overdue first solo album with his folk-pop-jazz compositions.

If you are a regular reader, you might remember that I have a personal connection to the Gondolán family. One of Antonín’s sons, Roman, who unfortunately passed away last year, used to be a friend of ours in the mid 1980s while I lived with my family in Bern, Switzerland, and he also used to play drums in my band then. Additionally – and the reason why Roman came to Bern in the first place – his uncle Jiří (George), the original drummer of the Gondolán group, lived and still lives in Bern, too.

As a side note: Last week I’ve been in Prague (again!), so I’ve contacted Antonín Gondolán in order to do some research for this article. We met in the Reduta jazz club. He was supposed to have a gig with his combo that night, but his regular piano player has already left the country for studies in the United States. Thus Mr. Gondolán was forced to improvise in order to fulfill the contract. He decided to perform an ad-hoc repertoire of jazz standards as well as a medley of gipsy folk songs solely with his sister Věra Gondolánová, accompanying her on piano and on guitar. Well, to be honest, he’s not exactly a virtuoso on these instruments, yet Věra is such an outstanding and professional singer that she managed to turn this initially slightly chaotic jam session duet into a truly remarkable and unique event...


Antonín Gondolán with his sister Věra on the Reduta stage, August 11, 2007 (photo © 2007 Lukáš Machata)

Já nechci mít (I Don’t Want To Have) was penned by Antonín Gondolán with lyrics by Pavel Vrba. According to Mr. Gondolán, it was recorded spontaneously during a session with Jitka Zelenková. It’s hard to place the tune inside a particular genre drawer – I’d call it perhaps “gipsy soul”. Whatever, in my opinion this is one of the most soulful original songs that has ever been written and recorded in former Czechoslovakia. The track appeared as the flip side of Gondolán’s biggest hit ever, Čekej a neplakej (Wait And Don’t Cry), which is more of a pop-beat tune sung by Antonín himself. The original single sold about 150,000 copies. Já nechci mít has never been reissued yet, but it’s planned that it should appear on a new Gondolán CD scheduled for release next year.

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Piece of my heart

Eva Pilarová & TOČR - Padni na kolena (Piece Of My Heart) [sample]
from 7 inch single "Vlny", 1970, Supraphon 0431049
conducted by Josef Vobruba, produced by Miloš Skalka


original SP sleeve (a generic "Pilarová" sleeve with additional imprint on the back)

As I have promised, here's more soul from Eva Pilarová. Her star sank slightly in the second half of the 1960s, after a new breed of female singers popped up on the Czech scene: the miss pop Helena Vondráčková, the C&W queen Naďa Urbánková, the chanson-girlie Hana Zagorová or the beat ladies Marta Kubišová and Marie Rottrová. Pilarová's educated alto voice on the other hand - while technically perfect - usually sounded a bit "academic", possibly too academic for young listeners interested in contemporary pop music. She's always been more comfortable in pop-jazz, swing or even in classical music rather than being an expressive soul or rock shouter. Nevertheless, bravely following the vogue she recorded a couple of soulful and funky tunes around 1970 as well.

Piece Of My Heart is one of the most recognizable female soul songs of the late sixties. Originally written in 1967 by Bert Berns and Jerry Ragovoy for Aretha's older sister Erma Franklin (1939-2002), it has been widely popularized by Dusty Springfield in 1968 and of course ultimately immortalized by Joplin's Big Brother & The Holding Company the very same year. I must say, however, that personally I prefer the softer versions over Janis' overrated hysterical scream orgy. And thanks to a TV ad from a jeans manufacturer, even Franklin's nearly forgotten yet still unmatched original came back to consciousness of a wider audience more than a decade ago.

Pilarová's rendition Padni na kolena (Get Down On Your Knees) with Czech lyrics by Zdeněk Borovec exactly follows Dusty Springfield's model and therefore also stays quite close to the original version. While the Dance Orchestra of the Czechoslovak Radio (TOČR) and an unnamed choir did a steady job as usual, the tune suffers from a horrible mix, mastering and pressing: the guys at Supraphon obviously must have had a really bad day then. (Note that I have done quite a lot of "clean-up", normalization and re-compression while digitalizing the track. The 7" side in its original "glory" sounds much worse!)

As far as I know, this song has never been reissued yet. And what's more surprising, the single doesn't even show up in Pilarová's official discography document. So grab it while it's hot or good luck hunting.

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Viking's dreams

Jana Koubková & Horký dech - Vikingovy sny [sample]

from 7 inch EP "Mini jazz klub 23", 1979, Panton 81350005; also on export compilation "Jazz à la carte", 1981, Panton 81151981


original EP sleeve (front/inside)

If I stated before that Vlasta Průchová was the 1st lady of Czechoslovak jazz, then Jana Koubková (1944) must be the female president, for in the meantime she's a jazz "institution". She began to sing with Kulínský's Children Radio Chorus when she was six. From the early 1960s until the mid 1970s she was a member of possibly all important pop/jazz vocal groups that appeared on the scene: she co-founded the Linha Singers in 1963, she spent a few years with the Lubomír Pánek Singers & Swingers (alias Sbor Lubomíra Pánka) and she sang with the Inkognito Kvartet (a.k.a. Incognito Quartet). She quitted the latter shortly before their Mongolian tour with the Karel Duba Combo in August 1968, where the majority of both ensembles died in a car accident. Later she also briefly performed with Kučerovci, C&K Vocal, Jezinky and she worked in the Semafor Theatre.

Koubková came to "real" jazz quite late though, when she began to sing with Luděk Hulan's Jazz Sanatorium in 1975. Then she was a member of the Jazz Half Sextet and she also co-founded the female vocal trio/quartet Hot Tety (Hot Aunts). With both bands she recorded several 7" singles for Supraphon and Panton. After Hulan's tragical death in 1978 a group with the pun name Horký dech Jany Koubkové (Hot Breath Of Jana Koubková) came to existence. It was a relatively loose combo where Koubková's role wasn't that of a conventional lead singer, instead she used her voice as a further solo instrument. The nucleus of the group was made up of Ladislav Malina (dr), Ivo Durczak (b), Zdeněk Kalhous (p), Zdeněk Hrášek (g) and - surprise, surprise - Jiří Tomek on congas. (Really: if you hear any congas on a Czech record from the seventies, the chances might be around 90 % that it's been Tomek playing!) The rhythm section was augmented by a variable horn section, e.g. Rudolf Ticháček (ts), Zdeněk Šedivý (tp) and Zdeněk Bártík (tb) on these recordings.

Vikingovy sny (Viking's Dreams) was written by the future movie score composer Ilja Cmíral who also collaborated with Koubková on another track from the EP. It's a relatively complex fusion tune with a brazilian flavour in a vein similar to early Mahagon with Zdena Adamová, not necessarily danceable yet still very funky. Koubková excels as an expressive soloist, towards the end Ticháček joins in on tenor sax.

In 1982 Supraphon released Koubková's first solo album, a self titled LP under the Horký dech moniker. She reduced the line-up to a trio, however. She was backed only by guitarist Michal Pavlíček and drummer Jiří Hrubeš, who both joined Michael Kocáb's Pražský výběr shortly thereafter. Aside from a brief intermezzo with Jazz Q, from the 1980s on Koubková worked independently on numerous projects: from duos like with the Japanese pianist Aki Takase over Alan Vitouš Trio up to big band recordings with Kamil Hála's JOČR and others. And sort of stepping in Luděk Hulan's footprints (who also often worked behind the scenes), in 1981 she iniciated and organized the first edition of the Vokalíza jazz/blues/rock festival which ran annually until 2000. These days Koubková still can be heard performing on Prague's jazz stages regularly; a quick web search revealed that she plays at Jazzklub U staré paní (alias USP Jazz Lounge) tonight, for example...

As far as I know, Viking's Dreams has been reissued on a Japanese "best of" compilation. Besides of that, I still have the double LP Bratislava Jazz Days 1981 for sale in my web shop, which contains the live version of Fankuj fankuj vykrúcaj (Funky Funky Hop) by the late Horký dech trio.

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Bossa Nova

Jana Petrů & TOČR - Bossa Nova [sample]
recorded in 1964, from compilation "Starci a klarinety", 2002, BMG-Ariola 743214111826


CD compilation booklet

Starci na chmelu (Oldmen Picking Hop, known as Hop Side Story or The Hop Pickers) from 1964 was the first Czechoslovak musical film. The pun title "Hop Side Story" isn't a bad analogy: like its famous U.S. mold, it tells a story of teenagers in love, outsiders and the troubles that may arise in such situations. But I've actually never seen the movie, so I can't tell if it would stand a direct comparison with West Side Story. Probably not, the socialistic realism didn't allow as much drama as in Manhattan's Upper West Side.

The movie soundtrack, however, is an undisputed Czech classic. Composed by Jiří Bažant, Jiří Malásek and Vlastimil Hála with lyrics by Vratislav Blažek, it features several original hits sung by popular stars of the early sixties like Karel Gott, Josef Zíma and Karel Štědrý.

I don't have much informations about Jana Petrů. She began to record in 1962. Besides of singing easy listening pop and foxtrot tunes she also used to perform with brass ensembles. Her most popular song was Den je krásný (It's A Beautiful Day), a duet with Karel Gott and the signature melody from the Starci na chmelu movie. Petrů remained active as a singer until the mid 1970s. By the way, do not confuse Jana Petrů with the pop/rock singer Petra Janů (1952), whose birth name actually also was Jana Petrů. As you might have guessed by now, later she changed it in order not to get confused with the older singer...

Bossa Nova is, well, a nice bossa nova, sort of. Acoustic guitar, maracas, cheesy organ, cool voices, actually it's got all what's needed. The lyrics are quite absurd though: Let's pray, let's pray, bossa nova, bossa nova / Let's repeat those two words, bossa nova, bossa nova / With this little prayer you'll be coming a long way / It will help you to reach what ever you wanted / Although Charles IV was a cruel feudalist / He initiated viniculture and not hop. Uh, without seeing the movie, the connection between hop and bossa nova is somewhat beyond my horizon...

The compilation Starci a klarinety (Oldmen And Clarinetes) is a double feature: on the same CD it also contains the even more popular soundtrack from yet another musical Kdyby 1000 klarinetů (If 1000 Clarinets) from the same year.

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Pendulum

Discobolos – Kyvadlo [sample]
from album “Discobolos”, 1978, Supraphon 1132348
conducted by Jiří Svoboda, produced by Michael Prostějovský


original album sleeve (front/back)

As I stated before, Discobolos was a studio project of the brothers Karel (1938-2007) and Jiří Svoboda (1945-2004). While Karel became (in)famous as a hitmaker and later as a composer of musicals, Jiří was mainly active writing film and TV scores. The highlights of his career were two movie scores written for the director and future Academy Award winner Jan Svěrák in 1991 (Obecná škola) and 1993 (Akumulátor 1).

Established at the zenith of the disco era, Discobolos was one of the few projects when the Czechoslovak pop music industry was able to keep pace with a global vogue. (Not that it comes as a big surprise: unlike rock, for sure the communist censors considered disco ideologically “safe” due to the lack of any serious verbal message.) Besides of studio work for artists like Jiří Schelinger or Helena Vondráčková (the 1980 album Múzy/Music), Discobolos released two “solo” albums in 1978 and 1979: Discobolos and Disco/Sound. The latter consisted mostly of “recycled” and disco-fied versions of older pop hits writen by Karel Svoboda. The first album, however, contained original material including one of the most popular Czech disco hits Dlouhá bílá žhnoucí kometa (A Long White Glowing Comet) sung by the exceptional vocal talent Jana Kratochvílová (1953).

Kratochvílová’s unmistakeable voice also adds the spice to the theme melody on Jiří Svoboda’s nearly-instrumental Kyvadlo (Pendulum). Czech pop music has never been closer to American disco-funk than with this tune, despite the occasional timing problems which the drummer seemed to have. Nonetheless, the studio group was built around a competent bunch of rock and jazz musicians, then also known as Bohemia: Vladimír Kulhánek on bass, Michal Pavlíček on guitars, percussionist Jiří Tomek, saxophonist Jan Kubík and Pavel Trnavský who was obviously the said drummer. On few tracks even Lešek Semelka appeared as the lead vocalist. Lots of keyboarders were involved anyway: Pavel Větrovec, Karel Štolba, Jan Hála and of course the Svoboda brothers. Additional vocals à la Silver Convention were provided by the female trio Viktorínová/Nopová/Jakoubková alias Bezinky.

Both Discobolos vinyl album should be quite easy to find in Prague or in Czech online stores, since they were anything else but rare. I’ve even seen some on flea markets in Switzerland recently. In fact, that reminds me that I still have a copy for sale – for one Euro only! (Yes, there’s a caveat: one track is badly scratched, that’s why.)

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Sixteen tons

Karel Hála & TOČR - Vopravdu sám (Sixteen Tons) [sample]
from SP "Patří ti velikej dík", 1970, Supraphon 0430890
conducted by Josef Vobruba, produced by Zdeněk Borovec
Josef Laufer & the Bohuslav Myslík Orchestra - Šestnáct tun (Sixteen Tons) [sample]
from album "74", 1974, Panton 110431
conducted by Zdeněk Marat, produced by Vítek Haderka


original generic Karel Hála 7 inch sleeve, original Josef Laufer album sleeve

You write a blog entry and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt! But also another double feature for you folks under the Cover Czech-In label: here are sixteen tons of Mr. Swing alias Karel Hála as well as yet another heavy load, Mr. Controversial, known as Josef Laufer. Both gentlemen are bringing to you the same song with different Czech lyrics, Sixteen Tons. The original tune dates back to 1946 when it was written and recorded by American C&W singer/hitmaker Merle Travis as a fake coal miner worker song. The ultimate version, however, belongs to Tennessee Ernie Ford. His cool and swinging rendition hit the U.S. charts in 1955 and seemingly became the most successful single ever released. (Check out ernieford.com/SixteenTons.htm for the whole story.)

Karel Hála (1933, no relation with Kamil and Vlastimil Hála of the JOČR fame) with his dark voice is one of the true veterans of Czechoslovak popular music. After he finished the Prague Conservatory in 1954 he began to work as a choir singer, from the Army Opera choir to the Karel Vlach Orchestra. In 1957 he was discovered by Karel Krautgartner who hired him as a soloist for his short-lived jazz combo. Since the late 1950s Hála toured with various dance orchestras again, this time as a bass player and later as a lead singer. His career finally began to take off in 1965 with his engagement in the Apollo Theatre (the one in Prague, of course) alongside Karel Gott and other Czech pop stars. But despite several hit songs and praises from the critics he had to wait until 1973 to finally record his first solo album called simply Swing. One reason for that might have been his progressive "skinhead" haircut - which supposedly was almost considered an opposite extreme to the long-haired freaks from the sixties' beat scene. Another obstruction probably was his inconsistent repertoire: Hála had to sing a lot of Soviet "muzak" or schlagers, too, because singing too much jazz used to be considered too "imperialistic" by the responsible communist authorities. Nevertheless he recorded several good single sides for Supraphon in the sixties which are worth checking out, like Tak rychle jako čas, Růžová nálada or Budu hledat dál. Some are closer to jazz, others may even sound quite soulful.

Vopravdu sám (Definitely Alone) is sort of a hybrid of both genres, where a cool rhythm'n'blues double bass verse à la Fever alternates with a driving chorus accompanied by a powerful big band arrangement. However, except for the overall impression, not much has been left from the original Sixteen Tons tune, not even Jiří Štědroň's lyrics hint at the origin. Their message is pure blues though. And that's where Hála definitely feels at home. As such, this rendition might be one of the "blackest" versions ever recorded. The production doesn't even sound much like "1970", the TOČR/JOČR rhythm section still gives the song lots of the early 1960s feeling. The a-side of the single is an original blues/gospel ballad in 12/8, Patří ti velikej dík (A Big Thanks Belongs To You), with a wild Hammond organ and a strangely wicked rhythm guitar. Unfortunately, that otherwise interesting song flips to the cheese side of the universe as soon as a pathetically arranged choir drops in.

Hála has been still sporadically performing with various Czech big bands in the recent years. The original recording of Vopravdu sám is available on a "best of Karel Hála" CD compilation.

~

Josef Laufer was born 1939 in France to a Czech doctor and a Spanish nurse. The family spent the war in England and in 1947 they moved to Czechoslovakia. Laufer's artistic path began as an actor during his military service and he finished the Theatre Academy in Prague in 1965. Being fluent in several languages, in the late 1960s he launched a promising international career as a pop singer when he toured and recorded in Western Europe and in the U.S. However, the Iron Curtain closed for him for some time after his brother emigrated in 1968.

Many of Laufer's tracks from the sixties are close to "cheasy" listening or schlager, but he's also featured on a couple of solid beat and R&B single sides with the Karel Duba combo. Then there's the Panton album V roce 1969 (In The Year 1969). Unlike most of his other vinyl output at that time, the said LP was recorded with his live backing band Their Majesties. In my opinion it belongs to the best Czech beat albums of the decade; that said, keep in mind that there weren't many Czechoslovak beat albums in the first place, thus take my statement with a grain of salt. Nonetheless, it's also worth checking out because of the beautiful sleeve, designed by Laufer's wife Irena Greifová. (A blog post about this record is available on a Dutch site where you can look at the cover artwork and listen to its best song. You may want to ignore the article as such though, because the writer doesn't seem to have much clue about the matter...)

Laufer belonged to the most popular Czech singers in the 1970s. But his star began to sink after 1976 when he recorded one of the most stupid pop songs in the history of man kind: Dopis Svobodné Evropě (A Letter to Radio Free Europe). It praises the Czech communist spy Cpt. Minařík who had been planning a terror attack on the Radio Free Europe building in Munich, West Germany. The lyrics are so full of communist propaganda and "anti-imperialistic" hatred that it makes you want to puke when you listen [external audio link] to it 30 years later. Today, out of context, one might want to believe that it was irony, but it wasn't. Sorry, Mr. Laufer, all credit lost...

But let's ignore it for now, because not all of Laufer's 1970s' records were all that bad, at least musically. Usually he was backed by a solid group which evolved from the original Their Majesties and eventually became known as Golem. Laufer's Spanish origin manifested in several latino influenced tunes for example, some of them sung in Spanish. After all, he used to perform in Cuba quite often at that time. And during the disco era he was the logical choice for a Czech rendition of Boney M's classic Daddy Cool alias Tak už jsem boty zul. In the 1990s Laufer launched a comeback as a singer and actor in various Czech musicals.

Besides of 16 tun (Sixteen Tons), the album '74 contains a bunch of other quite tasteful covers like Stephen Stills' Ecology Song (Rád vás tu mám), a driving Les Humphries medley or a medley of traditional Czech folk songs in a surprisingly juicy arrangement. Some of Laufer/Myslík's original compositions even come sort of funky. The orchestra line-up: Bohuslav Myslík (keys), ex-Atlantis Vladimír Grunt (dr), the last original Their Majesties member Ladislav Chvalkovský (b), Pavel Růžička (g) whom you already met as a half ORM, Jan Václavík (saxes), Radoslav Pobořil (tp), Jiří Doubrava (tb) and last but not least the background singers Vlasta Kahovcová, Jarmila Gerlová and Jana Löfflerová.

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Solstice

Jazz Q - Slunovrat [sample]
from album "Elegie", 1976, Supraphon 1151983
produced by Hynek Žalčík & Jan Spálený


original LP sleeve designed by Karel Haloun, export album, export reissue

While I've been a bit behind my weekly schedule with my previous blog post - which has been delayed by a couple of days - today I'm almost on time with an actual astronomical event. And speaking of time, it's truly about time to dedicate an entry to one of the most important Czechoslovak acts of the seventies, Martin Kratochvíl's Jazz Q. Despite the group's name, their importance didn't manifest only on the jazz side of things, of course. Like many other 1970s Czechoslovak combos oriented to jazz, at times they were able to supply a heavy dose of rock to the starving audience as well. And actually it's not even the first time you're hearing Jazz Q on this blog, they were already backing Helena Vondráčková last December.

Jazz Q was founded in 1964 by keyboarder Kratochvíl (1946) with flutist and saxophonist Jiří Stivín. In the beginning they inclined to free jazz. The group was even quite successful internationally, both Kratochvíl and Stivín won a couple of festival prizes in the late 1960s. But while Stivín wanted to continue with his free work, Kratochvíl decided to switch over to the progressive rock camp. After all, he spent the years 1967-1968 in England where he visited a lot of pop festivals, experiencing acts like the Doors or Jimi Hendrix.

Still with Stivín, Jazz Q recorded their first Supraphon LP in 1970, Coniunctio. That was a collaboration with Radim Hladík's reduced Blue Effect who had just kicked their singer Vladimír Mišík out of the group. The album came out pretty weird. Jazz Q already tried to move closer to rock while Blue Effect were sort of searching for the way out of it. All at the same time. And though one might assume that both groups would meet somewhere in the middle, they didn't. Stivín then left for a stellar solo career and Kratochvíl rebuilt his group from the ground up. His 1973 effort Pozorovatelna (The Watch-Tower) has been recorded for Panton with ex-Framus 5 Luboš Andršt on guitar and the young talented bass guitarist Vladimír Padrůněk (later with Mišík's ETC, then again with Jazz Q). Only few months later Kratochvíl began to work on a new Supraphon album with ex-Flamengo blues specialist František Francl (1946) on guitar and his English wife and vocalist Joan Duggan: Symbiosis became one of the darkest reflections of the Czechoslovak normalization era and it's definitely worth another "czech-in" in the future.

Slunovrat (Solstice) is the opener of Elegie (Elegy), Jazz Q's fourth album. Clearly inspired by big names in funk-jazz and fusion, Kratochvíl excels on Fender Rhodes and Moog, Francl plays a sparse but effective rock guitar, while bassist Přemysl Faukner (1952) with drummer Libor Laun (1951) are cookin' it tight and funky. The other seven album tracks also feature several special guests like ETC's violinist Jan Hrubý, Impuls's Michal Gera on trumpet or the ubiquitous Jiří Tomek on conga.

In 1977 Kratochvíl spent a year at the Berklee College of Music. Back from the States he continued to perform and record under the Jazz Q flag until 1984. Besides of making instrumental albums he also used to work with various singers: Jana Kratochvílová, Jana Koubková, the aforementioned Helena Vondráčková, Martha Elefteriadu or with ex-Marsyas Oskar Petr.

Jazz Q reunited another 20 years later, in 2004, and they are still performing these days. The recent line-up features only one "new" member, the Impuls guitarist Zdeněk Fišer. (Francl had to give up playing guitar in the 1980s due to a hand injury. He's still active as a recording producer though.) Faukner is back on the fretless bass, Jaromír Helešic already played drums on Zvěsti (Tidings) and Paprsky (Beams) in 1977-1978. And on vocals there's Oskar Petr again who returned from his U.S. exile to the Czech Republic in the 1990s.

Regular Jazz Q albums are available as second hand vinyl only, so czech out your online sources. Some tracks from Elegie also appeared on several English and German funk-jazz/fusion compilations.

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A rose in the window

Miroslav Koželuh & TOČR/JOČR - Růže v okně [sample]
b-side of the 7 inch split single "René Glaneau - Le petit Gonzales", 1962~, Supraphon 013221
conducted by Karel Krautgartner


a TOČR/JOČR recording session in the early 1960s

After visiting the vernissage of the Karel Krautgartner exhibition* at the Popmuseum* in Prague last week, I think it's appropriate to add a corresponding "soundtrack". But I'm still in Prague right now, so the choice is somewhat limited to what I have already recorded to MP3 and stored in my laptop, since my record collection happens to be in Switzerland. Hence a track which actually features another soloist of Krautgartner's orchestra, not the leader himself.

Karel Krautgartner (1922-1982) began his music career in the 1940s as a clarinetist in various groups and orchestras in Brno, among others in an early line-up of the Gustav Brom Orchestra. In 1945 Krautgartner became member of the renowned Karel Vla