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Friday Funk #23 – ‘Chameleon’ by Herbie Hancock
Friday Funk #23 – ‘Chameleon’ by Herbie Hancock
Friday Funk #23 – ‘Chameleon’ by Herbie Hancock
In the early 1970s, Herbie Hancock had gone way out into the avant-garde. “The kind of music I had been playing before, with a band that we now call the Mwandishi band, was very far-out space music, untethered,” Hancock said. “And I got a little tired of it. I wanted to do something that was a little more earthy. And the funny thing was, I had been listening to people like Sly Stone and James Brown, but playing a music that was very far removed from that.”
Hancock had started practicing Buddhism, and was using a Buddhist chant to “recognize a direction I wanted to go in [...] and, all of sudden, I'm starting to hear that song ‘Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)’ — Sly Stone. I had this picture in my head of me being in Sly Stone's band, playing this funky music. All of sudden I started thinking of my band playing this funky music.”
Hancock took his band into the studio in September 1973, and a month later released Head Hunters, which became the first platinum-selling jazz album. Except — was it jazz? “I was not trying to make a jazz record,” said Hancock.
The album opened with one of two tracks that have become standards, ‘Chameleon’ (the other being ‘Watermelon Man’ from 1962, reworked for this album). Built around a bassline played in two parts on synthesizer by Herbie, ‘Chameleon’ is 15 minutes of irresistible grooving.
It’s the one track on the album co-written by all four of Hancock, saxophonist Bennie Maupin, bassist Paul Jackson, and drummer Harvey Mason. Percussionist Bill Summers, who played a range of instruments from congas to beer bottle, completed The Herbie Hancock Group.
Maupin had attended Wattstax, which featured Stax acts like Isaac Hayes and the Staple Singers, the year before. He saw kids dancing the funky robot, and “just started to hear in my mind melodies centred around that kind of movement.” Maupin brought a riff to Herbie, and they came up with ‘Chameleon’.
By the time Maupin’s sax comes in at 1:29, the rest of the band have already built a deep well of polyrhythmic foot-twitching grooving. The bassline is endlessly listenable, the main drum beat compliments the line and adds a touch of extra syncopation, and the dual guitars (the one in the right speaker indebted to Jimmy Nolen’s scratch style) further the fidgetiness.
Following a variation of the sax riff which hints at a conclusion, all the instruments bar drums drop out – oh, the track’s over shortly after 3 minutes? – and there’s a lively drum roll from Mason before the bassline comes back in. The bass's repetition is almost comical, especially with its peppy staccato notes at the end of each phrase.
There’s plenty of variation beyond the bassline, with the screwabout synth noises sounding like chirping birds and Mason’s relentless fills, before we get to another bridge shortly after 7 minutes. There’s another drum roll before the bassline finally does change.
This middle section is more jazz-oriented, with Herbie soloing on keys and the bass guitar (rather than synth) playing more of a supportive role. The thematic bassline returns from 13:19 and there’s space for a Maupin solo where he mixes punchy phrases with longer, bluesy lines.
During the fadeout after 15 minutes, it sounds like there's plenty more inspiring playing to come. 15:41 is almost too short a running time.
In the early 1970s, Herbie Hancock had gone way out into the avant-garde. “The kind of music I had been playing before, with a band that we now call the Mwandishi band, was very far-out space music, untethered,” Hancock said. “And I got a little tired of it. I wanted to do something that was a little more earthy. And the funny thing was, I had been listening to people like Sly Stone and James Brown, but playing a music that was very far removed from that.”
Hancock had started practicing Buddhism, and was using a Buddhist chant to “recognize a direction I wanted to go in [...] and, all of sudden, I'm starting to hear that song ‘Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)’ — Sly Stone. I had this picture in my head of me being in Sly Stone's band, playing this funky music. All of sudden I started thinking of my band playing this funky music.”
Hancock took his band into the studio in September 1973, and a month later released Head Hunters, which became the first platinum-selling jazz album. Except — was it jazz? “I was not trying to make a jazz record,” said Hancock.
The album opened with one of two tracks that have become standards, ‘Chameleon’ (the other being ‘Watermelon Man’ from 1962, reworked for this album). Built around a bassline played in two parts on synthesizer by Herbie, ‘Chameleon’ is 15 minutes of irresistible grooving.
It’s the one track on the album co-written by all four of Hancock, saxophonist Bennie Maupin, bassist Paul Jackson, and drummer Harvey Mason. Percussionist Bill Summers, who played a range of instruments from congas to beer bottle, completed The Herbie Hancock Group.
Maupin had attended Wattstax, which featured Stax acts like Isaac Hayes and the Staple Singers, the year before. He saw kids dancing the funky robot, and “just started to hear in my mind melodies centred around that kind of movement.” Maupin brought a riff to Herbie, and they came up with ‘Chameleon’.
By the time Maupin’s sax comes in at 1:29, the rest of the band have already built a deep well of polyrhythmic foot-twitching grooving. The bassline is endlessly listenable, the main drum beat compliments the line and adds a touch of extra syncopation, and the dual guitars (the one in the right speaker indebted to Jimmy Nolen’s scratch style) further the fidgetiness.
Following a variation of the sax riff which hints at a conclusion, all the instruments bar drums drop out – oh, the track’s over shortly after 3 minutes? – and there’s a lively drum roll from Mason before the bassline comes back in. The bass's repetition is almost comical, especially with its peppy staccato notes at the end of each phrase.
There’s plenty of variation beyond the bassline, with the screwabout synth noises sounding like chirping birds and Mason’s relentless fills, before we get to another bridge shortly after 7 minutes. There’s another drum roll before the bassline finally does change.
This middle section is more jazz-oriented, with Herbie soloing on keys and the bass guitar (rather than synth) playing more of a supportive role. The thematic bassline returns from 13:19 and there’s space for a Maupin solo where he mixes punchy phrases with longer, bluesy lines.
During the fadeout after 15 minutes, it sounds like there's plenty more inspiring playing to come. 15:41 is almost too short a running time.
In the early 1970s, Herbie Hancock had gone way out into the avant-garde. “The kind of music I had been playing before, with a band that we now call the Mwandishi band, was very far-out space music, untethered,” Hancock said. “And I got a little tired of it. I wanted to do something that was a little more earthy. And the funny thing was, I had been listening to people like Sly Stone and James Brown, but playing a music that was very far removed from that.”
Hancock had started practicing Buddhism, and was using a Buddhist chant to “recognize a direction I wanted to go in [...] and, all of sudden, I'm starting to hear that song ‘Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)’ — Sly Stone. I had this picture in my head of me being in Sly Stone's band, playing this funky music. All of sudden I started thinking of my band playing this funky music.”
Hancock took his band into the studio in September 1973, and a month later released Head Hunters, which became the first platinum-selling jazz album. Except — was it jazz? “I was not trying to make a jazz record,” said Hancock.
The album opened with one of two tracks that have become standards, ‘Chameleon’ (the other being ‘Watermelon Man’ from 1962, reworked for this album). Built around a bassline played in two parts on synthesizer by Herbie, ‘Chameleon’ is 15 minutes of irresistible grooving.
It’s the one track on the album co-written by all four of Hancock, saxophonist Bennie Maupin, bassist Paul Jackson, and drummer Harvey Mason. Percussionist Bill Summers, who played a range of instruments from congas to beer bottle, completed The Herbie Hancock Group.
Maupin had attended Wattstax, which featured Stax acts like Isaac Hayes and the Staple Singers, the year before. He saw kids dancing the funky robot, and “just started to hear in my mind melodies centred around that kind of movement.” Maupin brought a riff to Herbie, and they came up with ‘Chameleon’.
By the time Maupin’s sax comes in at 1:29, the rest of the band have already built a deep well of polyrhythmic foot-twitching grooving. The bassline is endlessly listenable, the main drum beat compliments the line and adds a touch of extra syncopation, and the dual guitars (the one in the right speaker indebted to Jimmy Nolen’s scratch style) further the fidgetiness.
Following a variation of the sax riff which hints at a conclusion, all the instruments bar drums drop out – oh, the track’s over shortly after 3 minutes? – and there’s a lively drum roll from Mason before the bassline comes back in. The bass's repetition is almost comical, especially with its peppy staccato notes at the end of each phrase.
There’s plenty of variation beyond the bassline, with the screwabout synth noises sounding like chirping birds and Mason’s relentless fills, before we get to another bridge shortly after 7 minutes. There’s another drum roll before the bassline finally does change.
This middle section is more jazz-oriented, with Herbie soloing on keys and the bass guitar (rather than synth) playing more of a supportive role. The thematic bassline returns from 13:19 and there’s space for a Maupin solo where he mixes punchy phrases with longer, bluesy lines.
During the fadeout after 15 minutes, it sounds like there's plenty more inspiring playing to come. 15:41 is almost too short a running time.