Tag: reggae

Blues To Reggae

Blues To Reggae

Today I’ll chat about Dawn Penn’s 1967 rocksteady hit “You Don’t Love Me No No No”. It was dusted off in the 90s for a career-reviving dancehall remake and more recently nabbed by Beyoncé and Rihanna. You’ve probably heard it.

I love bluesiness and that’s why I’m drawn to this track – from the opening Hendrix chords on. The bluesy sound is a clue to reggae’s hybrid emergence from networks of cultural transmission between Africa, the US, the UK and the Caribbean… and in particular its debt to US r’n’b.

Dawn Penn’s performance in this tune is supremely confident for a teenager, and her blues bends are poisonously gorgeous. The groove is pretty futuristic! Pumping bass and sparse rimclick backbeat, at around 73bpm. The spaciousness and emphasis on rhythm section is harking towards dub reggae (which hadn’t quite been invented yet).

I love the detail of Jackie Mittoo’s piano marking out bars with increasingly higher-register inversions of the tonic minor, e.g. 0:44-0:56. They fix our attention on the second half of the bar where the vocals re-enter. Speaking of which, did you notice the odd amount of bars being marked? It even trips up the bassist at 0:53. What’s up with this song structure?

Penn, in interviews, seems to dispute the songwriting credit she was forced to give to Willie Cobb and Bo Diddley due to similarities with their songs “You Don’t Love Me” (1961) and “She’s Fine, She’s Mine” (1955).

“The Bo Diddley scenario is that they had an issue with Cher with a song named [“She’s Fine, She’s Mine”]. That has nothing to do with “You Don’t Love Me, No, No, No”, you understand? …. That’s what I’m telling you, the music was new, there was no music like that before that music.” – Dawn Penn, interviewed for UnitedReggae.com

“This was the first I’d heard these records, but the royalties were split three ways and some of my payments are still held up today.” – Dawn Penn, interviewed for The Guardian

I suspect the ways blues, reggae, jazz and hip hop build new creations from endlessly reused fragments and themes, are not fairly accomadated by copyright law. It’s also entirely credible that people ripped off Penn, a female artist with little legal or management assistance. And, as I think Ethan Iverson pointed out recently, obscurity about the origin of ideas was a necessary defensive reaction against the music business for black musicians in the US, at least.

All that said, there’s clearly a musical link between Penn’s song, Diddley’s, Cobb’s and also Sonny and Cher’s 1965 rock cover. The intermediate versions between Diddley and Penn’s each added something new: Willie Cobbs came up with the use of the IV7 at the top of the form (it’s obscured in my chart, but the first 4 bars are D7), and also the juxtaposition of Diddley’s wordless wails and lyrics (which Diddley does in separate verses) to create the hook, “Aw aw aw you don’t love me”. Sonny and Cher streamlined the hook’s melody (probably to make their two-part vocal work), providing the crucial b5 to 4 slide.

Here is the bar structure of the first verse of each song/version:
Bo Diddley: (3 + 5), (4 + 5), (4 + 5)
Willie Cobbs: (4 + 5), (4 + 5), (4 + 5)
Sonny and Cher: (4 + 5), (4 + 5), (4 + 5) (I think this is the version Dawn Penn worked off… there were other similar ones in 1965 but by much more obscure bands)
Dawn Penn: (3 + 3), (3 + 4), (4 + 4)

By the way, verse 2 of Bo Diddley’s track also mixes (3 + 5) and (4 + 5), but in different order, so he wasn’t consistent. I think the (3 + 5) sounds good while his (4 + 5) sounds like an awkward hesitation, particularly with lyrics.

Why the odd numbers of bars? Bo Diddley’s blues-based song runs a 2-bar guitar riff twice (which would be expected) and then lets it resolve (not expected) before he goes to the next chord, requiring an extra bar for the resolution. 2 + 2 + 1 = a 5-bar section between all the vocal phrases. Most later versions kept this 5-bar section.

These riffs are very downhome and almost pre-harmonic – they work mostly as rhythmic shapes cycling around to the tonic note. Different notes from their basic pentatonic mode could be easily substituted without losing the driving effect, as indeed is heard in the harmonica in Diddley’s track (which plays E instead of the guitar’s G). Other classic examples of this kind of guitar riff would be “Smokestack Lightning” and “Wang Dang Doodle”.

What I think is the secret behind Penn’s song is that this guitar riff has disappeared, but is still present as an unusual negative shape, i.e. the odd 3 bars of Am before the second “No no no”. Yes, that’s now 3 rather than 5 bars, but it still gives the sensation of letting the groove go round twice and resolve before coming in with the pick-up. (The radically lower rocksteady tempo means a single bar of groove functions as a unit comparable to the 2-bar guitar riff in the other tracks). The switch to 4 bars next time increases the pleasant frustration of being stuck waiting for the pick-up, and also aligns with the 4-bar sections of the upcoming blues-type release section (bars 14-29).

Oh, I almost forgot, there’s another crucial contribution by Jackie Mittoo and that’s the unusual juxtaposition of a dominant IV chord with a minor I chord, in a blues context. I don’t know any other track that does this, but it undeniably works. The minor I chord is idiomatically appropriate for a dark reggae vibe, but the IV7 works best with the blues slide of the hook. (A contemporaneous reggae cover uses IVm if you want to compare.)

“You Don’t Love Me No No No” distills the earlier structures into a mysterious but effective form, both innovative and soaked in tradition. Penn’s lyrical edits – i.e. the substitution of “no no no” for “aw aw aw”, which she says was inspired by church music’s “yes yes yes” refrains – and her combination of the raw bluesy timbrality of the earlier r’n’b vocals with the streamlined melody of Sonny and Cher’s pop version, make for a pop classic. While also being an astounding example of what how “African-American forms were borrowed and set to work in new locations and deliberately reconstructed in novel patterns that did not respect their originators’ proprietary claims” (Paul Gilroy).

I hope to follow up ASAP with a post on imitating the transformation of ideas between versions of this song, as a composing exercise. But I won’t say anything more now to avoid what happened last time, where I wrote two articles on composing and never posted any actual work.

Hope you enjoyed the post!

A Composing Checklist

A Composing Checklist

In my last post about my project to write a sketch a day, I talked about trying to compose purposely unfinished music, to stimulate players into completing it in performance using their improvisational spark and their knowledge of traditions such as jazz (or reggae, funk etc.). No sooner had I posted it than I figured out an obvious further thought:

That idea of provoking improvised reactions could be part of my composing practice. I could use my own music (or write new music, or use a piece from the repertoire) to stimulate further composing.

Absolutely nothing new in that idea as it stands – it’s called “development” or “contrafact”, or “sampling”. However, I realised that, in my practice, this process should take place using the exact dynamics I’ve been studying all along in this blog: the African and African Diaspora mode of improvised call and response within a groove. That is, the seed idea should groove and my spontaneous reactions should groove along with it. And there should be no limitation to the techniques or technology used – as long as there is this mutual grooving.

For example, I could:

  •  sample an old bass solo, loop the sample and improvise a bassline underneath
  • sequence a drum pattern and improvise chords on top
  • improvise a motivic solo over a standard, then take the best chorus as a melody and re-harmonise it
  • mash up a few cliched blues forms/song skeletons into a new form, then sing blues shapes over my form while playing it on bass to come up with a melody
  • dance to a dubstep mix and then subconsciously copy one of the drumlines (this wasn’t on purpose but it happened!)

The grooving stipulation directly combats my tendency to waste time idly fiddling with variations of a passage. Because now I’m forced to keep strict time as much as possible and also forced to make decisions in time (this is the essence of the jazz concept of “spontaneous composition”, I think).

By the way, such techniques as “jamming along to a recording of yourself” might seem trivial or even indulgent, but actually they bring new and worthwhile challenges. E.g. making a grooving and appealing-sounding recording of yourself!

There’s a subtle but very important function performed by all the examples above. I want to discuss it using a point of reference…. Seeing as my strategies are about finding inciting/provocative seed ideas and then reacting to them, the point of reference will be inciting/provocative gestures in groove music. Seeing as my seed ideas are meant to be beginnings for my creative process, I’ll look at beginning gestures.

Reggae drum intros are a great example of filling in to the top of the form; which is one of two basic options for kicking off a groove – the other being to just play a couple of rounds of the groove without the lead or without the full band. (More on that technique of layering here.) Fills are exciting, I feel, because they give a sense of an impending groove without revealing what it will consist of. Often, I’ve noticed they feature great timbre to convey an instant vibe – a notable feature of those reggae fills, but also found in blues, say:

I believe these gestures are comparable to hip hop snare drops, rap introduction cliches, and myriad rock’n’roll gimmicks. What do all of these do? They inject energy for sure, but also the set up the tempo, the feel (subdivision and microtiming), a vibe, the position of beat one and often a tonal centre!

My intuition is that seed ideas should contain all this info. To go even further, for my purposes (and in accordance with all of the traditions I’ve been talking about), the form is something that should be established in the seed idea – or at least, a clear tonal centre and length of cycle. The reason is that the type of interactive improvising – the “response” of call-and-response – that I’ve been discussing, happens when players can feel the underlying ground or form that they’re navigating.

Anyway, here’s a checklist for composing that I came up with two days ago:

  • Have a relaxed and open mind
  • Start with some technical practice on your instrument
  • All recordings must groove so use a metronome or just play with the fattest of feels
  • Try find a grooving coexistence of old (ground) and new (improv), e.g. improvise on a standard, sing over a bassline you wrote, interlock played improvisation with a tapped bell pattern, etc.
  • Look out for cool physical configurations i.e. unusual hand movements, combinations or instrumental approaches (for me this tends to emerge from technical practice which simultaneously warms up my hands, bores my brain and sharpens my awareness until I impatiently come up with something new)
  • Look out for cool timbre
  • Keep the harmony absolutely simple enough to navigate i.e. so you can visualise how melodic paths fit in the harmony in real time while devoting enough attention to treating them lyrically
  • Try ASAP to find the rhythmic cycle, top of form, feel and tonal centre
  • Feel how the harmony should move, and go with it if it turns out to be something familiar (I wrote an eight-bar section the other day without fully realising that it was “Donna Lee” chords)
  • Keep a notepad and recording tools immediately ready

It’s worked so far, although with the proviso that what comes out mightn’t be as hip as I’d wish for!!

I guess I’ll sign off here. I have more things to say but it’s best I write a few more tunes first. Thanks for reading! And please comment with your strategies for writing music.

6 Bassline Strategies

6 Bassline Strategies

I had the privilege recently of writing bass grooves for two awesome bands, Zaska and Mescalito. When I pondered over the lines I’d composed, I noticed certain techniques recurring. Today, I’ll briefly explain each technique. Plus I’ll link to a nice example of it in the reggae, funk, jazz or hip hop repertoire.

(If you want to hear the actual lines I wrote, come see Mescalito on March 24th in the Opium Rooms supporting Vernon Jane, or on April 14th in Sweeney’s, or see Zaska’s single release on April 23rd in the Sugar Club!)

1. Space

Silence can be one of the most attractive features of a cyclical bass groove. A gap, whether for half a beat or a full bar or more, lets other parts emerge, particularly drum hits. (Cutting off a bass note right on a snare backbeat is a cliche example.)

A short gap works as punctuation, giving the groove more of a shape, and therefore, it seems to me, more physical catchiness/danceability. For example, the “Stalag” riddim (which you may know as the groove for Sister Nancy’s “Bam Bam”), here underpinning Tenor Saw‘s hit “Ring The Alarm”…


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The “Stalag” bassline

Here’s another awesome 1-beat-ish gap in a reggae groove (beat 3 in the 2nd bar):



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Robbie Shakespeare’s line on “Computer Malfunction”

Longer spaces have a call-and-answer effect, as in this afrobeat groove…


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Leaving space for call-and-response (I’m not certain that this is really where the 1 is, by the way…)

2. Funky Melodic Cells

Like any other musical part, a strong bassline should be melodic. In a funky context, though, the tendency is usually towards blues melody rather than diatonicism. Out of the pool of blues notes I discussed a while back, a few 3- or 4-note cells emerge that are by far the strongest for constructing basslines. For example, 1 2 b3, 1 6 b7, 5 6 8 9, and the definitive cell for funk basslines, 1 5 b7. A catchy hook (i.e. with an intriguing rhythm) made from one of these cells can easily be a strong enough bassline to carry a tune.


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The opening bass riff on “Not For Nothing” uses the 1 6 b7 cell


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The basic groove (coming in around 0:32) played by Hunter on 8-string guitar, using the 1 5 b7 cell

Here’s an example of a hook-y bassline built off the 1 2 b3 cell followed by a sequenced, retrograded version (that is, the first three notes are then transposed up a fifth and reversed in order).


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Slap riff from A Certain Ratio’s “Waterline” (0:21)

More important than the motivic derivation, though, is the space in every 2nd bar which is used for call-and-response (in the form of improvised fills). Check out that nasty double-tracked slap sound too.


Another important aspect of that line is the clear direction of movement – up and then down, quite simply. A clear, uncomplicated contour like that strengthens the riff. For instance, the ascending bassline off the classic Scofield/Metheny collaboration…

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The A section groove for “Everybody’s Party”, with an ascending contour in each bar

As an aside, I would bet that this groove and the Dave Holland groove were both originally notated using 8th notes where I have 16th notes. Jazz musicians like reading 8th notes. It’s purely a notation decision with little or no musical impact, but I think 16ths are a more accurate reflection.

Octave Jumps

Steve Swallow’s bassline ascends a minor pentatonic scale before jumping from the b7 (Eb) back down to the root (F). We can imagine a variation of the where the scalar ascent continued, so instead of a jump down a minor 7th we would have a step-wise movement to the higher F:

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Steve Swallow’s groove without the octave displacement at bar 2

The played line uses octave displacement of what would otherwise be step-wise movement. Another example of this is Marcus Miller’s nifty elaboration of the classic “Red Baron” groove (composed originally by Billy Cobham).


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Octave displacement of step-wise movement

The Meters’ “Funky Miracle”, here sampled by DJ Premier for an early Gang Starr track, features both a (pentatonic) stepwise melody and then its octave displacement.


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Octave displacement of expected high Ab

Even simpler than octave displacement of step-wise movement, is a plain leap of an octave. This James Brown sample (1973’s “Blind Man Can See It”) has a downwards octave leap to the tonic note:

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Sampled bassline used in “Funky Technician”

(Note also the clear contour and the use of space, albeit with the note ringing out rather than silence.)

Here’s an upwards octave leap from the IV note. (Fred Wesley and the Horny Horns’ “Four Play”, sampled by DJ Premier.)

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What a rugged groove! Premier’s sub-bass and scratching helps of course.

5. Circularity Via Pick-Up

Emphasising the cyclic nature of a groove creates a hypnotic, trancy effect. One way is to use a phrase that starts before beat one. I read somewhere that landing on, rather than starting from, the downbeat is a characteristic of African-derived music. That’s surely a huge generalisation, but it does tie in well to how bebop improvisation and alternate paths are based on directionality towards target chords.

Starting basslines on a pickup in this way is not a very common technique, but here’s a nice example:


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Paul Jackson’s line on “God Make Me Funky” (drops around 0:50)

6. Circularity Via Dynamic Balance

This is a concept I picked up from Steve Coleman’s writings, but I’m not at all qualified to say much about it. As I see it, it’s a characteristic of African-derived rhythms such as clave… basically, the quality of having points of rest alternating with points of tension in a syncopated rhythmic cycle, producing forward motion (“dynamic”) and also a self-contained, universal circularity (“balance”). Hmmm, my prose is not really up to the task here! Anyway, do we find clave-like rhythms in the funk repertoire? Of course we do, in these classic basslines:


Gonna sign off here! Hope you picked up some groove wisdom from all of that. Like, follow and share!