Classic soul music is a sanctuary — a destination when love fades, dreams crumble, or the computer crashes on deadline and leaves you holding nothing but a handful of excuses. The sound of horns slowly dipping in unison while a sweat-drenched singer cries “baby pleeeease” is manna to many of us.
The genre peaked in terms of popularity and artistic merit decades ago, but to this day, folks from myriad backgrounds just can’t get enough of the stuff. “Blacks, Jews, Poles, Russians, Japanese, Cherokee Indians,” says guitarist Brian Chodorcoff. “Sometimes I look around in the dressing room and it’s like the [United Nations].”
Chodorcoff is all enthusiasm and healthy pride as he describes the Legendary J.C.’s (Joint Chiefs), a tight-knit, multinational, interracial ensemble he cofounded about seven years ago in Orlando, the sprawling tourist trap he’s called home since relocating from New Jersey to attend the Full Sail music tech school in ’91. The common thread that unites the J.C.’s — a rather disparate group of eight individuals ranging in age from their early 30s to 40s — is a love and understanding of old-school R&B. Like the rest of the J.C.’s, 34-year-old Chodorcoff wasn’t around during those turbulent ’60s, which produced soul music at its sweetest, back when James Brown, Ray Charles, Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin and others issued the finest music of their careers — perhaps the finest music of all time. “But we all gravitated to that music somehow, it all altered our lives in some way,” Chodorcoff says. “Even though none of us can remember when they were pop hits.”
Chodorcoff formed the J.C.’s with his songwriting partner and pal, the band’s outsized, Otis Redding-channeling frontman, Eugene Snowden. The current lineup also includes Ralph Ameduri (bass), Brian Mackie (sax), Jack Stirling (electric piano/organ), Clay Watson (trombone), Anthony Cole (drums/vocals) and occasional George Clinton collaborator Chris Bell (harmonica).
“In the beginning, there were a couple of lineup changes, but we’re going on about three years with this family,” Chodorcoff says. “One of the beautiful things is we all come from different backgrounds — there’s probably 10,000 records between all of our collections. But there’s a few hundred we all share a love for.”
James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, is one of the band’s biggest influences. (I’d be willing to bet my thumbs that every single member of the J.C.’s owns Live at the Apollo). As fate would have it, the J.C.’s had the privilege of opening for JB at the House of Blues Orlando in the summer of ’05, about a year and a half before the Godfather passed away.
“It was unbelievable, so surreal,” Chodorcoff enthuses. “His band kept telling us that James kept sitting in his dressing room listening to us, and we were just freaking out like little kids.
“From the House of Blues backstage area to where the buses are is about 25-30 yards, and James Brown had all these motorcycle cops and security guys there, but he saw us and put up his hands,” Chodorcoff continues. “‘You boys were fabulous, fabulous,’ Brown says. Then we really freaked out. When the Godfather himself, rest his soul, gives even a minor compliment like that — it meant the world to us.”
No other band from the I-4 corridor has been able to re-create the sound and feel of ’60s soul revues quite like the J.C.’s, who will bring their repertoire of steeped-in-tradition originals and choice covers back to Skipper’s Smokehouse on Saturday. The concert is a CD release party for the band’s outstanding new double-disc live album Open Day and Night.
One of several standout performances on it is “Soul of a Man.” The smoldering 14-minute jam kicks off disc two and features Snowden trading vocals with frequent guest Miss Sunny Raskin.
“I wrote the music, Gene wrote the words, [but] it’s become a showcase for Sunny,” Chodorcoff says. “It’s one of my favorite lyrics, and there’s a nice section for all of us to open up and put our emotions into the solos, which change for me, depending on my mood. … It might be different if I just broke up with a girl.”
Listening to the J.C.’s new concert album, one can hear the influences. The lyrics stick to golden themes like the glory of love and finding release on the dance floor. Snowden’s vocal delivery includes Screamin’ Jay Hawkins-style hoots, Redding-indebted balladry (the J.C.’s close most shows with a Redding medley staked in “Respect”) and call-and-response shouts that recall every man who ever endured the chitlin’ circuit.
The backing musicians are following the path blazed by Booker T. and the MGs at Stax or the Funk Brothers at Motown. The J.C.’s shine as torchbearers. These guys have the chops and passion to make their endeavor both sincere and admirable. Hell, witnessing their infectious enthusiasm is worth the price of admission.
“We’re very, very derivative, and if people say that, we take it as an absolute compliment and when people recognize the soul, blues, funk and rock influences and point it out,” Chodorcoff says. “It makes us feel good to carry on that tradition. … We pay homage and respect to all the Otises and Jameses. The only thing that bugs us is when people think we’re a cover band and say ‘Can you play ‘Tears of a Clown’?” And it’s like, we can, but we’re not gonna do it.”
Chodorcoff chuckles.
Perhaps the biggest problem with being a band that wears its nearly half-century-old influences on its sleeve like a badge of honor is getting signed. Although the J.C.’s are a very much in-demand live act — they don’t have a built-in circuit as in days past, but they play to packed houses from Florida to Las Vegas — there’s not much interest from record labels. After all, it’s not like there’s a shortage of albums by the original “Otises and Jameses” readily available. “Yes, it’s frustrating,” Chodorcoff says. “We’re lucky and honored to have so many people from the music industry blown away with our concerts, but then the first question they ask is, ‘Where and how do you see this band being promoted?’ We’re not what you see on a poster being hung by the average 13-year-old.
“We’re still hoping,” he continues. ” [Jacksonville swamp-rock outfit] Mofro signed to Alligator. Fat Possum has taken a chance on acts like us. Other than that, we’ll continue selling records on our own. … We can get away with having a great career by playing live and selling records to people who dig it.”
This article appears in Apr 4-10, 2007.
