One of the most welcome and rewarding musical—cultural—developments of the last few years is the renaissance of Little Steven and The Disciples of Soul.
Best known as either an actor or as a sideman to his longtime friend Bruce Springsteen, Steven Van Zandt is in the top rank of songwriters and recording artists, in his own right. He was an experienced rock and roll guitarist before he joined Springsteen’s E Street Band in 1975, touring with the likes of The Dovells and Dion and the Belmonts. Shortly thereafter, he was the studio mastermind/producer of Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, who still play most of the songs he wrote for them. Though it was not in vogue at the time, his studio productions with the group used a rich palette including horns and R & B vocals atop a mighty rock and roll bedrock. After three albums, he and the Jukes parted ways for awhile and he started singing his own songs, parting ways with the E Street Band in the 1980s. His releases in this period showed his innumerable influences, including early garage rock, ur-metal, R & B, soul, and Latin American music, deftly and purposely blended into his own sub-genre. After three of his own albums, he briefly joined forces with the Asbury Jukes again before returning to his solo career. Before too long, it was 1999, and Springsteen reunited his E Street Band. This time, Van Zandt had returned to it.
Spending most of the twenty-first century until a few years ago touring with the E Street Band and fulfilling a longtime goal of acting, his diverse catalog of well-crafted and -integrated rock was a dormant memory. Then, in 2017, with new label and distribution deal from Universal Music Enterprises, he released his first album in eighteen years. Soulfire (Wicked Cool Records) is a sterling release and was more than welcome, but it was not entirely new—two songs were covers, and many were re-recordings of older songs he had given Southside and others. What was even more welcome was the first Little Steven and the Disciples of Soul tour in decades. It was a new lineup with original horn players Eddie Manion and Stan Harrison as well as new blood (including Lowell Levinger of The Youngbloods). The 2017 tour led to a live release, Soulfire Live! (Wicked Cool 3CD 2018).
Indefatigable, Little Steven and the Disciples of Soul release Summer of Sorcery (Wicked Cool) today, the first studio album to credit the Disciples of Soul since classic debut Men Without Women (EMI America 1982). Unlike Soulfire, it is all new, and its romantic nature (in all senses of the term) couldn’t be more vital to a dying, postmodern culture. While it downplays some of Steve’s metal and punk influences, it is a remarkably diverse (and musical) album. Both its value orientation and its melody & harmony distinguish it from much of today’s sludge.
Three tracks had been released as digital singles, providing fans a preview of the album. The first, “Superfly Terraplane”, is actually the weakest track. The lyrics are crudely out of character and include questionable political references, but they do have a quality that manages to be topical while still relevant beyond next week. And it’s still better (incomparably so) than most of the competition, such as it is.
Three tracks had been released as digital singles, providing fans a preview of the album. The first, “Superfly Terraplane”, is actually the weakest track. The lyrics are crudely out of character and include questionable political references, but they do have a quality that manages to be topical while still relevant beyond next week. And it’s still better (incomparably so) than most of the competition, such as it is.
“Love Again” is something else entirely. Musically, it is reminiscent of past glories, especially “I Don’t Want to Go Home” (the title track of Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes’ debut). This sojourn to the past is not exclusive to this song. In that sense, Summer of Sorcery isn’t entirely new, but these are not rehashes. “Love Again” is effortlessly an instant classic (it sounds effortless, anyway). On tour in 2017, the lead Disciple, talking to audiences, contrasted some modern vices of others with his band’s virtues: lack of autotune and drum machines, “ladies singing in tune”, horns, etc. The string arrangement is likely by Van Zandt, a superlative arranger credited with arranging and producing the entire record, and it compliments this and other songs with color lacking in today’s popular music. Lyrically, it starts out as something of a travelogue before becoming a romantic plea. Namedropping landmarks around the world (“I’ve been to the Statue of Liberty,” etc.), it is slightly reminiscent of Fear’s “I Don’t Care About You”—except it is a warm, exultant flip side to that doleful dirge.
The third tune available pre-release is “A World of Our Own”. Its strings are reminiscent of Rush’s late-career masterpiece “Faithless”. (And it’s probably coincidence, but guest violinist/violist Jonathan Dinklage did play with Rush.) The commonalities mostly end there, except that this may be another late(r)-career masterpiece. It’s not prog, which is not one of Little Steven’s myriad influences, but it is more complex than today’s simple “music” (arguably even more than a typical Van Zandt composition). As a Van Zandt production, it is eminently typical: rich, dense, and multifaceted, including what sounds to this listener as harpsichord and bells. Though vocals are not Little Steven’s area of expertise, his captivating melody in this composition comes through strikingly in his vocal performance. The melody distinguishes it from the flat drone of recent radio. And the tendrils of warm lead guitar soothe.
Summer of Sorcery has many more highlights.
Lead-off track “Communion” has much better topical lyrics than the lead-off single. Exhorting his audience to put down their cameras and shut off their phones “if you know how”, it is a(nother) plea for solidarity which even the most hardened individualist may grow to appreciate. The horn motive is a new direction for this group. Tempo shifts enliven the listening experience. The guitar solo lifts the track into a new plane of joy and is more reminiscent of past performances than the horn line (without being derivative). The background singers, singing in tune as Steve likes to crow, stand out on this one.
“Party Mambo!” is Steve in Latin mode. Lyrically, there is some mysticism, which is not a regular writing style for him. His determined, imperious guitar solo is an effective counterpoint to the laidback, calypso-like music. Stan Harrison’s flute solo is welcome, as always.
“Vortex”, another song about romance, has darker lyrics and sinister music, dramatizing confusion and tension. It fuses strings and Seventies soul somewhat like “Down and Out in New York City”, the James Brown cover on Soulfire (and Soulfire Live!). It is sort of Van McCoy meets Shaft!. It is something of a left turn on a protean album with more than one, and it works.
“Soul Power Twist” is another celebration with jubilant horns. The horn arrangement reminds the knowledgable listener of some of Springsteen’s obscure Seventies rousers (e.g., “So Young and In Love”, “Action in the Streets”). Lyrically, it is a song of escape, not so much “escapism” but literally the desire to get away without evading the unattractive truth (something Little Steven would be unlikely to do).
“Education” revisits “Bitter Fruit”, one of the better tunes from 1987’s Freedom—No Compromise (EMI) that was a highlight of the last tour. After a slow, Indian introduction, the song emerges as another Latin theme with a captivating, ascending melody.
“Suddenly You” does not revisit familiar styles. This one is hard for me to describe. It sounds like it could be a “love theme” to a movie from the time when “love themes” (and decent movies) existed.
The new one ends with its title track, more contemplative than the impassioned exhortations and declarations leading up to it on this and records past. Another first-person romantic plea, it does eventually crescendo slightly in emotion. Sergio Ruelas Jr. plays “a Duane Eddy guitar”, with the king of twang’s blessing, according to the liner notes. Van Zandt is an architect of this Eddy-meets-Ennio Morricone style; it is one of his trademarks. Here, it is slightly more repetitive than past works in this vein, but it is a sendoff of gentle benevolence that a bitter, baleful culture needs. (And it reprises a horn riff from “All I Needed Was You”, which is not only one of the best songs Van Zandt wrote but one of the best songs anyone wrote.) The “ladies singing in tune” (Jessie Wagner, Sara Devine, and Tania Jones) contribute much to that gentle benevolence.
The new model Disciples of Soul is a first-rate ensemble, in the studio or on stage. Its individuals rarely taking the spotlight for long, but they each seamlessly integrate in to a whole that needs all of its parts. Little Steven calls co-producer, guitarist, and musical director Marc Ribler his “brother in arms from the beginning of this resurrection”. Drummer Rich Mercurio’s fulcrum, understandably, is more Starr than Moon, but his occasional fusillades arrest the listener. Bassist Jack Daley’s fulcrum is not flashy and is neither McCartney nor Entwistle, but it guides the big band along competently. Levinger and Andy Burton shade and complement the more raucous guitars. The horns and strings bring jazz and classical sensibilities long dormant in post-jazz popular music.
Today, they release the album. Tomorrow, they play a record release party at the Saban Theatre in Beverly Hills. (A review may be forthcoming.) They’ll play a similar record release party in Asbury Park on May 8 before crossing the Atlantic. Then, they will return to North America. I may see them in Ventura in September. I recommend seeing them as often as one can.
In a stagnant anti-culture of atonal, anti-value nihilism, Warholian flat affect, and baby boomer/early Generation X nostalgia, it can be hard to stay objective when anything of quality appears again. It is easy to overrate certain things, contemporary and otherwise, when anything halfway decent sounds good (and is good) compared to today’s typical abominations. With that caveat, I think Summer of Sorcery sits comfortably alongside Little Steven and the Disciples of Soul’s best work, perhaps his/their best since the starkly contrasting Voice of America (EMI America, 1984). Its melody, integration, exuberance, and benevolence is an antidote to today’s worse-than-doldrums. While it downplays the heavier nature of Voice of America and Born Again Savage (Renegade Nation, 1999), that is a welcome aesthetic decision in the culture of noise and angst. Though it is not as loud and frenetic as some of the other records, the album is another masterful fusion of ostensibly disparate musical modes.
The entire album is now available streaming as well as on better compact disc and best two-record set (on three sides).
It is hard to overstate the importance of Steven Van Zandt doing what he does best again—not acting, not sidelining, not even being the Brian Wilson of Southside Johnny and The Asbury Jukes. (Brian is nearly beatified in “Love Again”.) The Disciples went away just before popular culture just about died in the 1990s. They’re bringing a bit of it back.
Summer of Sorcery, in its lyrics and liner notes, dabbles in mystical imagery and fantasy overtones. But it is the best kind of fantasy, firmly grounded and relevant to reality. In today’s context, it is a foremost lodestone. It is a crucial reminder of the way things used to be and the way they still could and should be. Little Steven and The Disciples of Soul is a sublime synthesis, as this record reminds, and anyone who repines for the best that post-jazz popular music used to (and rarely still does) attain should listen to it, in spring, summer, and beyond.
