Teddy Afro's latest album TIQUR SEW & contemporary Ethiopian music
"...The strength in Teddy's new album 'Tikur Sew' mostly lies on his talent in coming up with deeper than usual themes and lyrics for his songs (and he's got some cool ones) and not in his musical arrangements or vocals that are overshadowed by the overly familiar background music. The musical arrangement on this album is frankly not quality enough for someone of Teddy's stature, and the overly done sound with a bit of creativity here and there is making it hard for me to keep on listening to his songs as often as I would have liked or expected to considering how much we all anticipated this album :-(. Many of his new songs still sound like some of his old ones to my ears with few exceptions here and there. I imagine the radio waves and Taxi stereos back home must be continuously blaring Teddy's songs considering the massive popularity of this album! But here I have to feel inspired to play and listen to the songs myself, and sad to notice I am not listening to them as often as I thought I would. I believe in Teddy's even greater potential, but he is not quite there yet. He sure is enjoying how well his albums have sold, as he should since his album sales are unprecedented, and riding his popularity wave while getting lots of media attention and probably making money in the process. And that is actually awesome, but I want him to push the limit of how music is done in Ethiopia even further, perhaps next time. As a die hard fan, I am soooo ready for Teddy's songs that have quality not just in their lyrics but in their sound as well :-)."
The above quote from a facebook friend Gifti Bedada captured what I wanted to say yesterday when I argued with another friend about Teddy Afro's latest album. After listening together to 'TIQUR SEW' 'FIORINA..' & couple of other songs from Teddy Afro's latest album songs, I said to my friend I recognize Teddy's talent for his lyrics with their deep philosophical touch in them but whoever writes/composes/arranges the musical arangements (the ZEMA) lacks the sophistication and seem to be stuck in terms of creativity. For that I was criticized by my good friend as someone with negative attitude toward the success of another Ethiopian. I explained that critique in arts "HISS" in Amharic should be welcomed. That is how Art grows and should not be taken as negative and it is with that mind frame that I was commenting. I added by saying that we share same interest in Amharic literary/dramatic works and we have agreed in the past liking some works but we differ on this one. We moved on to other subjects by agreeing to disagree.
Coincidentally, I have found this morning among piles of books & articles, a piece written by Ethiopian Music scholar Zenebe Bekele (another fb friend) entitled 'What is Ethiopian Music upto?'. From it, I learned Ethiopian music is rich in its textual or vocal stylistic tradition. Think of the lyric dependent folk Amarigna, Tigrigna, Oromigna, Wolaytigna etc..songs. played by Azmaris & alike. The article also mentions the other stylistic types that exist in Ethiopian musical traditions. These are the Mimes & expressive dances which we see in folk music of Kembata, Mursis, Gurages, Afars etc.. and the Instrumental music styles which we see in the folk music Gidoles, Fugas etc. Because our musical tradition is strong in the lyric dependent textual or vocal style, we see quality in the content of the songs and lately Teddy Afro is the embodiment of that talent. However, his talent in writing songs with deep philosophical undertones or moving historical references are not matched by equally creative musical arrangement. What makes the 1960s and early 70s unique in Ethiopian musical history the Golden era of Ethiopian music is musicians who were so good in channeling the textual or vocal such as Assefa Abate, Kassa Tessema, Mary Armide, GetaMesay Abebe, Firew Hailu, Argaw Bedaso, Abebe Tessema were matched by genius musical composition & arrangement of the likes of Kevork & Nerses Nalbaldiyan and later by people with formal modern music education at Yared Music school or abroad such as Ashenafi Kebede, Tekle Yohannes Zike, Mulatu Astatke or by the talents affiliated with the military bands such as Sahle Degago, Ashine Birru, Lemma Demissew. Most of these music composers/arrangers if not all composed or arranged the popular songs performed by stars such as Tilahun Gessesse, Mahmoud Ahmed, Bizunesh & Hirut Bekele, Alemayehu Eshete, Tamrat Molla etc.. whose lyrics were written by the likes of Assefa Abate, Tezera Haile Michael, Solomon Tessema, Tesfaye Lemma etc. What we have experienced in the 1960s & early 70s was a symbiosis of talents in singing, song-writing and musical arrangement/composition.
Since the mid 70s or after the revolution some of the musicians known for their talents as singers/song-writers or for delivering the textual/vocal died but there were no shortage of talented vocalists there after at least. What have been missing or seems to have gone forever is the creative geniuses who provide varied style of musical accompany to the songs. The ideology that was adopted after the popular revolution demanded conformity and the musical geniuses behind the creative era of earlier decade conformed to survive by creating dull revolutionary tunes and later retired quietly. Multau Astatqe who was engaged on improvising Ethiopian instrumental music can be considered as an exception in this regard as he was left alone by the new ideologues 'to do his thing'. At one time in late70s and early 80s living in Ethiopia felt like living in Kim Il Sung's Korea or Mao's revolutionary China all one hear on the radio or watch on TVs were revolutionary tunes or military march bands. Once the revolutionary fervor subsided and songs other than the revolutionary tunes began to reappear in the air waves, they were either the old tunes from the military bands or some new tunes by the likes of Aster & Wubshet from bands playing in night clubs of big government owned hotels. The new songs played by Aster Aweqe & others who came after her sounded way different from that of the previous era. What was noticeable in most were the similarity in lyrics as well as in ZEMA, the musical arrangement despite the variety of the artists. Albums after albums that came out to the market with varied artists sounded same. The other noticeable difference from the earlier era was the role & power of commercial studios. Commercial studios such as Elektra, Tango etc.. making safe risk calculation approaching "safe" artists (at times scout for new talents) provide them lyrics from few song-writers (most of the time same individual such as Yilma TekleAb) whose earlier works made them good money and match them with bands such as ROHA etc..
Lately, accompanied by full scale bands such as ROHA had become unnecessary. The latest trend in Ethiopian contemporary musical scene seems to be: artist with vocal talent pleads to few known talented song-writers who have provided for best selling artists before them to write them few lines for songs. Once they obtain that they run to individuals who play synthesized organs and who have accompanied best selling artists in the past. Then they approach recording studios to record them & market it. It does not matter the lyrics and the composition/arrangement sounded similar to the ones performed by other vocalists. No need for that insignia (special signature) in arrangement/lyrics that makes their work unique to them. Think of how the beats, the arrangements & styles of Michael Jackson's, Stevie Wonder's or for that matter our own Muluqen Mellese's or Alemayehu Eshete's or Bahta Hagos's were different from one another as well as from album to album. Nowadays, the driving factor seems to be quick money to the artist, to the studio to all who are involved. That's why we have new names as recording artists almost every month or two. Same factor seem to work in the film industry which I call it the Bollywood way. (That's for another blog another day).
To come back to Teddy Afro, I am not saying here that he operates in the same way. He seems to be talented young man with remarkable song-writing talent and star performer with charismatic personality. I also admire his acumen as businessman for the way he released his latest album. He or his business advisors seem to have touched the right cord among Ethiopians by releasing couple of singles first and once the buzz is created, releasing the whole album for a record sale of millions just in one week. What concerns me is that, the genius of marketing might not do their tricks in the future if his works sound familiar or the same album after album. My humble advice: Find musical talent in composing/arranging that matches your singing/song writing exemplary skills. Same way Quincy Jones's works helped a star performer like Michael Jackson's albums. You deserve your 'Quincy Jones'.
Born on this day: Dr. Melaku Beyan & Sebhat Gebre Egziabher
Melaku E. Bayen 1892-1932E.C. (1900-1940)
The First Ethiopian Physician trained in the U.S. and Political activist during Italo-Ethiopian Conflict was born on April 27, 1900, in Wello Province in central Ethiopia. He is the son of Grazmach Bayen and Woyzero (Mrs.) Desta. His parents move to Harar, when he was a baby. The young Melaku was raised and educated in the compound of Ras (General) Mekonnen, then the Governor of Harar and the father of Lij Tafari, the future Emperor Haile Selassie. In accordance with the aristocracy's custom of educating and training likely young boys for positions of leadership, young Melaku was placed under the tutelage of Lij Tafari and taught by priests, attached to Ras Mekonnen’s royal court. Melaku lived close to the future king, serving as both his page and personal attendant in the royal courts of Harar and later of Addis Ababa at least for a decade.
Life in the royal court taught young Melaku strict discipline and gracious protocol. On January 19, 1921 Melaku was sent to India along with two young men and a woman for preparatory studies under private tutors from Great Britain.
The sudden death of the young woman left Melaku and his compatriots devastated, hence making their stay in India unbearable. So they appealed to Ras Tafari to permit them to pursue their studies in the United States, where imperialistic designs on Africa seemed absent. The students' request was granted.
In the company of an American missionary to Ethiopia, Melaku set sail with Worku Gobena and Beshawered Habteweld for the U.S. Upon their arrival in 1922, the young Ethiopians had with them a sealed envelope containing a personal letter of recommendation to President Warren G. Harding from Ras Tafari, heir apparent to the Ethiopian throne. The Ethiopian Regent addressed a courteous and yet forceful letter to President Harding that emphasized the great need for educated Ethiopians. Because of their impressive credentials from the Ethiopian regent, the trio was permitted to meet Mr. Harding, who urged the Africans to enroll at Marietta College in Southeast Ohio. Melaku finished the prep school in 1925 and that fall Melaku entered Muskingum College near Columbus, Ohio. He graduated from that institution just three years later, becoming one of the first Ethiopians to earn an American degree.
In 1928 Bayen enrolled at Ohio State University in Columbus as a graduate student of chemistry. A year later, he was admitted to the Medical School at Howard University, one of the nation's most prestigious black educational institutions.
Melaku attended the coronation of Emperor Haile Selassie on November 2, 1930 in Addis Ababa and traveled back and forth many times accompanying African American recruits for various jobs and briefing the new Emperor on the situation in the United States. At Howard, he co-founded the Ethiopian Research Council in 1930 with
Professor Leo Hansberry, one of the pioneers of African studies in the United States. The Council was regarded as the principal link between Ethiopians and African Americans particularly in the early years of the Italo-Ethiopian conflict. After the Italian invasion of Ethiopia, Melaku focused less upon recruiting skilled Afro-Americans for service in Ethiopia and more on mobilizing black American support for his country.
After graduating from Howard medical school in June 1935, Dr. Melaku had originally intended to remain in the U.S. to complete his internship, but the serious situation in Ethiopia caused the Emperor to recall him. Thus, on July 10, 1935, the physician departed for Ethiopia with his wife, Dorothy, and young son, Melaku Jr.
There, Dr. Melaku's duties at the American Mission Hospital in the capital and later with the Ethiopian Red Cross in the Ogaden, brought him into intimate contact with the war.
Meanwhile, the war went badly for the Ethiopians. When it became clear in late April 1936 that it was senseless to attempt to defend the capital, members of the Imperial Council persuaded the Emperor to leave the country for Geneva to make a final appeal to the League of Nations for support. When the Italian Army captured Addis Ababa, Melaku’s family went to England and later to the United States to fully campaign for Ethiopia. Melaku and his wife Dorothy Hadley, created a newspaper called Voice of Ethiopia to simultaneously denounce Jim Crow in America and fascist invasion in Ethiopia.
News of Ethiopia’s plight fueled indignation and furious debates among African Americans. In Harlem, Chicago, and various other cities African American churches urged their members to speak out against the invasion. Melaku established at least 28 branches of Ethiopian World Federation, an organ of resistance calling on Ethiopians and friends of Ethiopia throughout the United States, Europe, and the Caribbean. Touched by the Emperor’s speech at the League of Nations, and Melaku’s impassioned message, blacks vowed to support Ethiopia. Melaku Beyan and his African American counterparts remained undeterred for the remainder of Ethiopia’s struggle against colonization. In 1940, a year before Ethiopia’s victory against Italy, Melaku Beyan succumbed to pneumonia, which he had caught while walking door-to-door in the peak of winter, speaking boldly about the war for freedom in Ethiopia.
Sources: Girma Abebe(Dr.) - Melaku E. Bayen: The first Ethiopian to earn an American degree. Ethiopian Register. Dec. 1999/Jan. 2000.; Ayele Bekerie (Dr.) - The Case of Melaku E. Bayen & John Robinson Tadias Online Magazine. April 18, 2007.; Tsedey Alehegn - African American and Ethiopian Relations. Tadias Online Magazine. August 11, 2008
From: Biographical storybook with Calendar 2003 edition.
The enfant terrible of Amharic literature, the free-spirited short story writer, social commentator & satirist Sebhat Gebre Egzabher was born on this day April 27, 1936 (MIYAZIA 19, 1928). Sebhat, even though he was prolific writer and has produced some of the memorable pieces of literature and characters, he did not publish his works in form of a book for many years until late in his life. His naturalistic style of writing was considered decadent & unfit for Ethiopian culture by censors due to its use of blunt language to depict sexual matters. He also expressed disinterest for long time to commercially publish his other writings which were deemed acceptable by censors. He was admired & sought after though by editors of newspapers or magazines as well as published & commercially successful writers such as Ba'alu Girma. Actually, Ba'alu Girma's Derasiw (The Writer) was partially based on the real life story of Sebhat.
Sebhat was born in historic city Adwa and died recently on February 20, 2012 and was buried at Selassie Church in Addis Ababa. Among the books he has published since 1988 are: Amst, Sidst, Sebat(Five Six Seven) published as collection of short stories which included his earlier works such as “Motena Agafari Endeshaw.“(The story of a man who is constantly trying to run away from death). Tikusat [Fever] and Sebategnaw Melak [The Seventh Angel] which were known for breaking with existing Ethiopian literary forms and which have earned Sebhat an underground reputation for its graphic depiction of sex. Letum Ayinegalgn (The dawn Will Never Come) which gives snapshots of Dejach Woubé Sefer, the red light district of the 60’s and 70’s . 'Ager Menged' (Short Cut), 'Mastawesha' (Memories), and 'Yefikir Shamawoch' (Love Candles).
'Ras Nasibu of Ogaden' & 'Ras Desta': Marcus Garvey's two poems in honor of Ethiopian heroes
The founder of Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) & charismatic Black nationalist leader Marcus Garvey is known for his fiery speeches as staunch proponent of Black pride and oneness of Black race. Through his speeches and writings Garvey has instilled in Blacks of the New World the sense of black self-love and black self-consciousness. He taught that the New World Africans are part of the widely dispersed Ethiopian nation, which had a rich heritage and would one day would be emanicipated to reclaim their past glory as foretold in Biblical passage: "Princes shall come out of Egypt. Ethiopia shall soon stretch forth her hand unto God." Here is a link to one of his speeches entitled "Ethiopia shall stretch forth her hands unto God"
What is not known by many is that Garvey also wrote poems more than two dozens of them. These poems were published in the form of a book or appeared in Black Man magazine he published. Among the poems he wrote are the following written in honor of two Ethiopian leaders of the resistance war against Italian invasion. 75 years ago this month the poem written in honor of Ras Desta Damtew appeared in March/April 1937 Issue of Black Man magazine. The poem written in honor of Ras Nasibu ZeAmanuel was written earlier and was published in the January/February issue of the same magazine.
Ras Nasibu Of Ogaden
A king has fallen on the field-
The field of war, but not by shot,
Nor even through a broken shield:
He died in exile-awful lot!
Ras Nasibu of Ogaden
Is he-the greatest of his tribe-
The man who led his valiant men
With Wehib Pasha at his side.
fie died in Switzerland-afar,
Of broken heart in his exile:
He saw the end of that sad war
In which he fought without a smile.
The Brute of Italy had sent
His liquid flames of steady death
And tanks that ploughed and also rent
The land and stole the hero's breath.
This Mussolini, vile of heart,
Who plagues the world with devil tricks,
Has caused a king to lose his part
In building glory with his bricks.
The dream of Abyssinia, great,
Was dear to Nasibu's own heart;
But he has met an awful fate,
And failed in this to do his part.
The Negroes of the world shall wait
To take their stand against the foe,,
And when they fight to win their State
They'll make Italians drink their woe.
A Fascist king shall never rule
The Blacks of all the lands we know:
The Negro shall be no foot-stool,
But give to all the seeds they sow.
Let's honour Nasibu's fair name,
And damn the Mussolini tribe:
This Abyssinian's splendid fame
Shall live through pen of Negro scribe.
Look out for time, that's comin' soon,
To strike Italian Fascists down:
To us 'twill be a glorious boon
To have them sprawling on the ground.
-1937
Ras Desta The flow'r of a nation's strength
Had thrown their valour and their might
Against the charging hordes of death
In history's most unequal fight!
One man remained-the last of them-
To stand for Ethiopia:
All else surrendered, died or fled
But, he, the lion-hearted-Ras Desta.
Graziani, Italian butcher
Had valiant Desta quickly shot,
To seal his lips and tie his hands
In fear of what he called a plot.
With death of such a noble man,
A reign has passed to history;
But time will bring to us again
More men to fight for victory.
The Fall of Maqdala & the last words of Atse Tewodros
On this day April 15th, 1868 British Expeditionary forces comprised of 13, 000 British & Indian combat troops and led by General Robert Napier stormed Ethiopian fortress in Magadala whereby Atse Tewodros with his loyal chieftains had amassed warriors and waited to beat back the technologically superior expeditionary force. Members of the 33rd brigade of the expeditionary force managed to break into the last defense of the fortress and found the Emperor lying dead taking his own life using pistol which had been a gift sent to him from Queen Victoria.
The conflict that ended with the Emperor's suicide and immediate withdrawal of British forces from Ethiopian territory started from diplomatic incident involving letter sent from Emperor Theodore to Queen Victoria of England. The letter was sent in response to gifts sent by the Queen for the Emperor's help in punishing ruthlessly the murderers of the first British Counsel in Ethiopia Walter Plowden when he was killed in a local skirmish. In gratitude, Queen Victoria rewarded the Emperor with a pair of inscribed pistols among other things sent through the second British Consul Captain Charles Cameron. The Emperor then sent letter thanking Queen Victoria for sending him gifts through the new Consul General and seeking alliance with christian nations such as Great Britain referring his nation as Christian nation surrounded by Muslim neighbors. In his nation's frequent engagement with encroaching Muslim forces, he expected support from Great Britain & Western powers by providing ammunitions as well as in making technical experts available for building armaments.
Little he knew these nations see the world from racial prism and to advance their geopolitical interest they would betray one another let alone distant nation like Ethiopia. For reasons that can be attributed to deliberate racial snob on the part of foreign office in London, the letter was ignored. Not even a formal acknowledgement was given. Besides, Christian Britain and France allied with Muslim Turkey in the Crimean war against Christian Russia.
The Emperor was incensed by what he felt was royal snub and ordered for imprisonment of the British Consul.
Alongside the British Counsel, there were more than 50 other European expatriates who were also imprisoned or taken as hostages, most of them missioaries and their families as well as some artisans who had refused to offer their technical skills in buiding mortars to the Emperor. Among such prisoners were French gunsmith Bourgeau, Swiss German missionaries Mr. & Mrs. Flad, as well as Stern Rosenthal & his wife, a Polish deserter who led the project albeit unwillingly of building a cannon for the Emperor and named it 'Sebastopol". Some of the prisoners were mistreated and kept in chain particularly when were asked to move from place to place with the King's troops.
The British Resident in Aden, sent a three-man delegation to plead for their release. The three were themselves incarcerated. In the end, the Foreign Office in London decided to send
a formal reply to Theodore’s long neglected letter with gifts. The delivery was entrusted to an Iraqi diplomat named Hormuzd Rassam. He was in no hurry to deliver and it was not until January 1866, almost two years later that the letter was in Theodore’s hands. The Emperor expressed himself satisfied and agreed to free the captives. However, shortly after, Theodore’s torturous mind suddenly veered again and on his orders the freed missionaries and consular officials were intercepted on their way to the coast and seized once more.
Theodore now sent a new message to Queen Victoria indicating that further donations to Abyssinia would be welcome in the form of a number of skilled workmen, various types of machinery and an expert manufacturer of ammunition. The ruler of Abyssinia was impudently blackmailing the British Empire. On his return to Abyssinia in December, Victoria’s emissary, found that Theodore had transferred most of his captives to the isolated rock fortress of Magdala which the emperor was coming to regard as both his capital and his refuge. The government in London, far from complying with his requests now dispatched a formal note of protest dated April 16th 1867, but Theodore remained intractable.1
Coincidentally, Great Britain had recent setbacks when Mutiny in India as well as defeat in the Crimean War, resulted in humiliation & loss of prestige. It could not take any more loss of prestige, hence was keen to show its global might by punishing the Emperor and force the release of the European prisoners. The Suez Canal was not open then, hence it was decided that the military campaign for the release of the prisoners had to be launched from British India. The task fell upon General Robert Napier who was commander in the British Raj in India. For the time, it was a major undertaking that costs more than £8,600,000 and involved no less that 13,000 British and Indian combat troops, a total of 291 vessels of all sizes, a host of servants and workmen and over 36,000 animals including 3,000 horses, 16,000 mules and ponies, 5,000 bullocks, 8,000 camels and 44 elephants etc.2
Advance elements of the expeditionary force left the Indian westcoast seaport Bombay early and arrived Annaslie Bay on Gulf of Zula in December 1867. The first to arrive were Indian native workmen who set transforming the village into giant military base. The Commander in Chief himself arrived at Zula in January 1868 and soon after making sure the Army is ready for mobilization into hinterland, he gave the signal to advance. After crossing the coastal deserts of the lowlands first and started climbing the difficult terrains of mountainous routes that followed, on february 1868, General Napier had to sit in a meeting with Tigrean Chieftain Dejazmach Kassa Mercha whose support for the mission was crucial to advance further. After enlisting the support of Kassa Mercha, with promises of living Ethiopian territory immediately after gaining the release of prisoners, the expeditionary force was permitted to deploy further and arrived at Antalo halfway to Meqdela on March 2. At Antalo, General devised war plan for approaching & attacking the Medela Fortress by creating two divisions. The first division commanded by Major-General Charles Staveley, would become the striking force comprising 5,000 men whose column would set out at daily intervals starting from March 12 until they reach position around 100 kilometers to Meqdala. The second division comprised of Antalo, Adigrat & Senafe Garrisons would stay at Antalo on stand-by-basis and wait order.
Troops from striking force marched until they entered Dildi on the 24th March. From here they could see the fortress of Magdala off in the distance. It was only 25 miles away. But the mountainous terrain would require a tortuous circumventing route of some 60 miles distance over some of the most inhospitable mountain country imaginable. Deep ravines and precipices ensured that the expedition advanced at a very slow and careful rate. It was almost with relief that the units approached the ominous looking mountain fortress of Magdala. Their journey was nearly at an end. However, before the force actually reached Magdala an unexpected battle took place on the approach road to the fortress known as Arogye Plateau which lay across the only route to Magdala.
When the British Expeditionary forces arrived at Arogye Plains they could see the artillery pieces and troop encampments guarding the approach road to Magdala itself. And on Good Friday, unexpectedly, Ethiopian forces led by Atse Tewodros's loyal Chieftain Fitawrari Gabriye left their impregnable defenses and launched an attack on advancing members of the strike force. What prompted such unwise move was the sight of the British baggage train almost completely unguarded. Combatants needed no encouragement to rush out of their defensive positions to seize all the potential booty on offer. Unfortunately, that move costed the Ethiopian forces heavily as they have lost all of their artillery as well as much of their combatants including their leader Fitwarai Gabriye.
The firepower and discipline of the British units completely overwhelmed the musket and spear armed Ethiopia forces. Yet they fought bravely on even as they realised the hopelessness of their cause. Over 500 of them were killed outright, but many thousands more were wounded in an engagement that lasted an hour and a half. In that time, the British and Indian troops barely suffered more than scratches. It was a one sided battle that illustrated the massive technology gap that existed between the African and European forces.3
On the following day after this first battle, General Napier wrote to Emperor stating:
Your Majesty has fought like a brave man, and has been overcome by the superior power of the British Army. It is my desire that no more blood may be shed. If, therefore, your Majesty will submit to the Queen of England, and bring all the Europeans now in your Majesty's hands, and deliver them safely this day in the British Camp, I guarantee honourable treatment for yourself and all the members of your Majesty's family.4
Atse Tewodros, an intensely proud man as many who had known him noted, refused to accept such humiliation and sent a reply to Napier admitting to the superiority of the British army, organised on modern lines, over his traditional-type forces, he added, "you have defeated me through men obedient to discipline. The people who loved me and followed me fled, abandoning me, because they were afraid of a single bullet".5
When he sensed that most of his loyal warriors have lost their life and his combatants have fled abandoning their position, he released the prisoners and decided to take his own life.
The following is a dramatic presentation in Amharic of the last moment & words of Atse Tewodros just before he took his own life from a play written by the late Girmachew Tekle Hawaryat and performed by veteran stage actor & patriot Mekonnen Abebe. Ato Mekonnene Abebe first played the role of Atse Tewodros some 50 years ago when the play was staged for the first time in Addis Ababa Municipality Theatre. Now at the age of 88 and living in Washington, DC area, he still remembers the lines and recite them without flaws. We recorded him last year for a radio program that was produced in remembrance of the historic day.
The Story of Mahletai Yared: The First Black Composer of Sacred Music
Ethiopian Orthodox Liturgic (sacred) music composed by Saint Yared performed at Richmond Folk Festival in 2007.
The great Ethiopian sacred music composer QIDUS (Saint) Yared was born on MEGABIT 27, 497 AMETE MIHRET (April 5, 501 G.C.) in the ancient city of Aksum. His father's name was Adam, whereas his mother's name was Tawkelia. He descended from a line of prominent church scholars. At the age of six, a priest named Yeshaq was assigned as his teacher. However, he turned out to be a poor learner and, as a result, he was sent back to his parents. While he was staying at home, his father passed away and his mother asked her brother, Aba Gedeon, a well known priest-scholar in the church of Aksum Zion, to adopt her son and to take over the responsibility regarding his education.
Aba Gedeon taught The Old and New Testaments. He also translated these and other sacred texts to Ge'ez from Greek, Hebrew and Arabic sources. Even if Aba Gedeon allowed St. Yared to live and study with him, it took him a long time to complete the study of the Book of David. He could not compete with the other children, despite the constant advice he was receiving from his uncle. In fact, he was so poor in his education, kids used to make fun of him.
Realizing that he was not going to be successful with his education, Yared left school and went to Medebay, a town where his another uncle resided. On his way to Medebay, not far from Aksum, he was forced to seek shelter under a tree from a heavy rain, in a place called Maikrah. While he was standing by leaning to the tree, he was immersed in thoughts about his poor performance in his education and his inability to compete with his peers. Suddenly, he noticed an ant, which tried to climb the tree with a load of a seed. The ant carrying a piece of food item made six attempts to climb the tree without success. However, at the seventh trial, the ant was able to successfully climb the tree and unloaded the food item at its destination. Yared watched the whole incident very closely and attentively; he was touched by the determined acts of the ant. He then thought about the accomplishment of this little creature and then pondered why he lacked patience to succeed in his own schooling.
He got a valuable lesson from the ant. In fact, he cried hard and then underwent self-criticism. The ant became his source of inspiration and he decided to return back to school. He realized the advice he received from his uncle was a useful advice to guide him in life. He begged Aba Gedeon to forgive him for his past carelessness. He also asked him to give him one more chance. He wants all the lessons and he is ready to learn.
His teacher, Aba Gedeon then began to teach him the Book of David. Yared not only was taking the lessons, but every day he would stop at Aksum Zion church to pray and to beg his God to show him the light. His prayer was answered and he turned out to be a good student. Within a short period of time, he showed a remarkable progress and his friends noticed the change in him. They were impressed and started to admire him. He completed the Old and New Testaments lessons at a much faster pace. He also finished the rest of lessons ahead of schedule and graduated to become a Deacon. He was fluent in Hebrew and Greek, apart from Ge'ez. Yared became as educated as his uncle and by the young age of fourteen, he was forced to assume the position of his uncle when he died.
Yared's Zema is mythologized and sacralized to the extent that the composition is seen as a special gift from heaven. One version of the mythology is presented in Ethiopian book Sinkisar, a philosophical treatise, as follows: "When God sought praise on earth, he sent down birds from heaven in the images of angels so that they would teach Yared the music of the heavens in Ge'ez language.
With his song, he praised the natural world, the heavens and the Zion. He called the song Mahlete Aryam, which means the highest, referring to the seventh gates of heaven, where God resides. Yared, guided by the Holy Spirit, he saw the angels using drums, horns, sistra, Masinko and harp and tau-cross staff instruments to accompany their songs of praise to God, he decided to adopt these instruments to all the church music and chants.
The chants are usually chanted in conjunction with aquaquam or sacred dance. The following instruments are used for Zema and aquaquam combination: Tau-cross staff, sistra and drum. Yared pioneered an enduring tradition of Zema. Aquaquam and Qene. These are musical, dance and literary traditions that continue to inform the spiritual and material well being of a significant segment of the Ethiopian population.
METSHAFE DIGUA
The work of Yared gave Ethiopia the gift of music from the 6th century onwards. However, because of Ethiopia's hundreds of years of isolation from the outside world, due acclaim has not been given to St. Yared as a great contributor to the system of modern music and poetry as given to those such as Hayden Bach and Mozart who emerged over a thousand years after him in Europe. However, in his own country he is recognized as a musical genius and the patron saint of many churches in Addis Ababa, Mekelle, RasDashen, etc. The history of Saint Yared is found in the book written about his life called Dirsane Gedl Ze Quidus Yared (Story of the struggle of St. Yared), in many religious books and in the Kibre Negest (Glory of the Kings). All these books praise the superb quality of the chants of Saint Yared. The music school in Addis Ababa has been named after Saint Yared and a religious school in the city of Aksum also bears his name. St. Yared died at the age of 66 on May 20, 571 A.D. in a cave below the Semien mountain where he had been accustomed to teach.
This abridged & slightly edited version of Saint Yared’s biographical sketch is compiled from the following sources:
St. Yared - the great Ethiopian composer. By Ayele Bekerie. Tadias Online Magazine. August 09, 2008. (accessed 07/31/’09)
Ethiopian civilization. By Belai Gedai. http://www.st-gebriel.org/Styared/gab_yared_music.htm
The resurrection of Melvin Butler, Eddie Daye & other forgotten DC record artists
Members of 'The Four Bars'. Melvin Butler second from left.
Back in 2003 I read this amazing story from Washington Post article about British collectors' fascination on long forgotten Washington DC record artists whose record was released under 'Shrine Records', a Thomas Circle based studio which tried to bring fame & fortune to Washington DC music scene as Motown did to Detroit. What attracted my interest was not only the story how these British connoiseurs & collectors helped the resurrection of these musicians and their works which even the locals, let alone people in the U.S. hardly recall such groups existed. But also the fact that the article talks about the past of an area that I frequent or am familar with and that it carried photo of a person that I know as member of one of the bands of the time.
Well, Thomas circle was not far from I used to live and I had Ethiopian friends renting in the area. Since the Real Estate boom in Washington, DC & revitalization some of its neighborhoods, Thomas Circle has become prime location for hotel chains, buildings converted to high-price condos and reconstructed office buildings.
Just before the boom and the gentrification process that followed it, significant number of Ethiopians used to live in Thomas Circle, Logan Circle (two blocks up) as well as neighboring areas along the 14th & 16th street corridor.
Actually, the lives of Ethiopians & other immigrants living in the area served as the background for "The Beautiful Things that Heaven Bears" the best selling novel by the young & rising Ethiopian born author Dinaw Mengistu.
As I said in the beginning, I used to know one of the recording artists whose photo is included and his band was mentioned in the article. This was the late Melvin Butler of the Eddie Daye & Four Bars, the band he founded with Eddie Daye. Melvin as we used to call him fondly was an affable Concierge at the apartment building I used to live in. He was smooth & charming gentleman in his 70s who had a way saying things that make your day bright if you happen to meet him on the hall way of the apartment building.. He used to say to me that I remind him of those Ethiopians he met during the Korean war while he was in the Army and adds "You Ethiopians have something noble in you. Like your Emperor Haile Selassie is his name right?". He was telling that he used to perform in musical band in Washington DC local musical scene of the 1950s & 60s so I attributed his charming personality to his time in show business. I remember listening to this song back in his apartment which he said his grand kids converted from vinyl record to CD, if i remember correctly. I remember him saying he & his band mates opened for the likes of Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye, Wison Picket, the Platters among others.
Members of 'Eddie Day & The Four Bars'. Sitting on the right is Melvin Butler.
Even though Melvin was suffering from poor health due to kidney failure, he was often cheerful as well as class. So was his good looking wife who used to work for one of the local government offices. I believe for one of the suburban counties. I used to wonder, with his being in the show business and full of charm nature, he must have charmed the best one to be his wife. However, appearance can be deceiving. It was his best looking wife who seemed to be in good shape who suddenly died first. The affable Melvin's physical health deteriorated more after his wife's passing, he also died not long after. Years after, when the Washington Post article came out, I clipped the article and gave it to his daughter. His family seem to do not know about the article.
Recently years after the article was written and I have lost contact with Melvin's daughter (both of us have moved out of the apartment), I saw exchanges between collectors at this website that album cover for 'Eddie Daye & the Four Band' records sell for more than 200pounds by itself in the UK. I also learned that the leader of the band Eddie Daye died in 2009. I am glad Melvin & his band mates received in the end even though belated the success & recognition they deserve in the end. I just wish he had died knowing that people discovered to love their music and scavenge to get hold of whatever can be found. May God bless the souls of Melvin Butler & Eddie Day with their wives.
Washington's Lost Soul
D.C.'s Answer to Motown Failed Nearly 40 Years Ago, But Today Shrine Records Is a British Treasure.
By David Segal
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, May 11, 2003; Page N01
The band is drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but more than tipsy, and it's only midnight, which means the band will soon be loaded. Edgewood Studios on K Street is packed with musicians and well-wishers, including Bo Diddley, who lives nearby. And over in a corner stand the Cavaliers, a five-man vocal group and the stars of this session, here to record a rowdy, 2 1/2-minute R&B track called "Do What I Want."
It's the autumn of 1966, and this is the Cavaliers' last chance. Every member of the Washington group is about 30 years old, which is borderline past-it in the pop business. The group knows that if "Do" doesn't chart, the dream of singing and touring full time is doomed. But it's hard to worry tonight. There's a party mood at Edgewood: The musicians, more soused by the hour, keep fumbling the tempo, and to give the song some roadhouse ambiance, the crowd is whooping and shouting through each take.
A couple of weeks later, a local label called Shrine Records releases "Do What I Want." It flops. Bass vocalist Theotrice Gamble will hear his group once or twice on the radio, but that's it.
"We were kind of disappointed," recalls Gamble, now 68, sitting at the dining room table of his house in Silver Spring. "We didn't give up right away, but then I drifted away and I haven't been in touch with anyone in the group since."
Gamble reaches under a stack of papers and pulls out a copy of the 45 recorded with his friends decades ago. "In all my years of singing, this is the only remnant I have," he says quietly. "And this is my only copy."
There it is. Groove-worn from years of spins. Sheathed in a rumpled white cover sleeve. Rightthere on the table.
What Gamble doesn't know is that this seven-inch slice of vinyl is a coveted treasure in England, where American soul is fervidly collected. It's a craze that started in the early '70s, when a handful of British clubs began to host marathon, pill-fueled all-nighters of soul singles by artists who'd been long forgotten in the United States. For deejays, the trick was unearthing great tunes that nobody else owned, that couldn't be heard on any other dance floor. The scarcer the record, the better.
No soul records, then or now, are scarcer than Shrine's. Founded in 1964, the label hummed to life in a townhouse at 3 Thomas Circle NW, hoping to do for Washington what Motown had done for Detroit: turn local talent into national stars. It was the dream of a producer and songwriter named Eddie Singleton and his wife, Raynoma Gordy Singleton, a businesswoman with perfect pitch, loads of pluck and a singular credit to her name. She and her then-husband, Berry Gordy, had founded Motown.
But after releasing nearly two dozen singles, Shrine ran out of money and, having failed to send even one song up the charts, the label folded in 1967. Then its luck got even worse. Most of Shrine's overstock was stashed in a warehouse owned by a company called Waxie Maxies on 14th Street, and during the Martin Luther King riots of 1968, the warehouse burned to the ground. What little Shrine vinyl had been given to performers or sold was all that remained.
For British soul connoisseurs, the story of Shrine's life and fiery demise held an irresistible allure. The fans revered the music, too, which is less polished and noisier than Motown's. For years, hard-core Shrine-o-philes have been flying to Washington to scour the bins of local record stores and comb through area estate sales. Some have posted signs ("Shrine records wanted!") on D.C. streets. All are searching for acts whose names are rarely uttered even in their hometown: the Counts, Tippie and the Wisemen, Les Chansonettes, the D.C. Blossoms, Leroy Taylor and the Four Kays, the Enjoyables, the Epsilons.
"It's still incredibly popular," Dan Collins, a British soul collector, says in a phone interview from England. "For 30 years, we've been coming to America to buy Shrine singles, to the point where we've got more of the stuff than you do."
As it happens, the Cavaliers' "Do What I Want" is one of the holiest of the grails hunted by overseas collectors. Until this afternoon in Theotrice Gamble's house, there were just two known copies. He owns the third. Sitting at his dining room table, he learns for the first time that this single is worth far more than its weight in gold. Conservative estimates put the auction price of the single at about $4,000.
Gamble absorbs this news with stoical awe.
"My, my," he says after a pause, looking at the record and slowly shaking his head. "Unbelievable. . . . Unbelievable." He pauses again. "I thought we'd been forgotten long ago."
When Shrine began, there was nothing like it in Washington. Everyone here assumed that the city boasted as much talent as Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, Memphis and other towns with homegrown labels built on homegrown artists; Marvin Gaye hailed from here, after all, as did R&B great Billy Stewart. Dozens of doo-wop and soul groups were singing on street corners and vying for stage time at area clubs.
Eddie Singleton had seen these singers up close. As the manager of comedian Flip Wilson and as a songwriter and producer based in New York, he'd traveled often to Washington, and he smelled opportunity.
"I knew there was a void," Singleton says on the phone from South Africa, where he has lived for four years. He is 66 now, and the tale of Shrine still smarts a little, but he tells it patiently. "Washington was a major pulse. I felt it was fertile."
He was ready for a fresh start. Big-time success on Tin Pan Alley, the epicenter of Manhattan's music scene, had eluded him, and he had a girlfriend who needed a change of scene, too. Miss Ray, as she was known, was already semifamous in the pop music world. She and an ex-boxer named Berry Gordy had opened a Detroit studio where locals could record songs cheaply. The operation flourished, and when the pair moved into a townhouse on that city's West Grand Boulevard, Raynoma had a sign made for the front of the building that read "Hitsville, U.S.A."
She did more than just decorate. With her formal musical training, Raynoma wrote arrangements, played keyboards -- for the Temptations, among others -- and oversaw day-to-day operations. But as Motown prospered, Berry Gordy had a series of adulterous affairs and became physically abusive, according to Raynoma's autobiography, "Berry, Me and Motown: The Untold Story." After a mail-order Mexican divorce, Miss Ray headed to New York, where she and Berry commenced a love-hate relationship odd enough to keep Oprah busy for weeks. She continued to work for Motown, opening an East Coast office of the label's song-publishing arm, Jobete, looking for new acts for Motown.
She didn't find many. And when word of her relationship with Singleton reached Gordy, he was enraged. As Raynoma struggled financially, Gordy refused to sink more cash into a venture that wasn't making money. Strapped, Raynoma did something she'd regret: She ordered a manufacturer to press 5,000 copies of Mary Wells's "My Guy," a national hit at the time, then drove to local record stores and unloaded them for 50 cents apiece.
A week later, the FBI arrested Raynoma, accusing her of bootlegging. As an executive vice president of Motown, Raynoma thought she was doing something a bit sneaky but legal. The feds disagreed, and Gordy soon presented his former wife with a terrible choice: Either sign away her co-founder's stake in Motown or he'd press charges. She signed, collecting a $10,000 one-time payment and monthly child support for the son she'd had with Berry. Her share of Motown would have eventually been worth millions.
Singleton's plans for a soul label in D.C. sounded to Miss Ray like an ideal new beginning, and the pair moved here and set up shop on Thomas Circle. Like Motown, the house had rehearsal space as well as offices. Three stories, 19 rooms and a basement. Singleton chose "Shrine" to pay homage to the recently assassinated JFK, whom both he and Raynoma had idolized. For a logo, he picked an image that baffled British collectors until well into the '80s, when they finally tracked Singleton down. It was, he told them, a sketch of the eternal flame beside Kennedy's grave.
Word about Shrine spread fast. Raynoma brought in her nephew Dale Warren, who would later write string arrangements for artists like Isaac Hayes at Stax Records. Producer Maxx Kidd, later the business force behind go-go music, joined, too. Songwriter and former singer Harry Bass moved from New York to lead the hunt for talent, scouring venues like the Lion's Den, the Colt Lounge, Ed Murphy's Supper Club, the Flamingo Room, Turner's Arena and the Howard Theater.
Contracts were signed, house musicians were hired. The house at 3 Thomas Circle bustled.
"It was incredibly exciting," says Richard Collins, formerly of the Counts, whose members were all so young, their parents had to cosign their contracts. "They had wonderful musicians, and for us to be part of it was amazing."
A bunch of area performers in their teens and early twenties found themselves opening local gigs for stars like Aretha Franklin, Wilson Pickett and Mary Wells. None was getting rich, but even the youngest discovered they had some very ardent fans.
"They were after me," James Faison, who sang with the Counts, says with a chuckle. "Somebody would send a drink onstage, and if you accepted, that was their in. I was still living at home with Mama, and these women, they were older and they had jobs and cars. The next morning, they'd drop me off at my house. My friends were a little jealous."
Through 1966, Shrine's roster grew. It included groups like the Cairos, featuring a young singer named Keni St. Lewis, who later wrote songs for Michael Jackson and Peaches & Herb; and Little Bobby Parker, who had once written a guitar riff cribbed by John Lennon for "Day Tripper"; and Eddie Daye and 4 Bars, already veterans on the local music scene, who had answered an open-audition ad for Shrine they'd spotted in a newspaper.
"I was impressed," says Daye, who still sings in Washington. "They were spending money. And early on they were getting airplay. . . . That's the most important thing for a label, getting your records played."
Local sales were decent at first, peaking with the Epsilons, who had a regional hit with a multi-harmony tear-jerker called "Mad at the World." But soon after, Shrine stalled. Few of the singles gained traction. Airplay dropped off dramatically. Eddie and Raynoma were mystified and then frantic. Within a few months, Shrine was foundering, and by 1967 it was out of money.
How good was the music? Very good and often great, judging from the two-volume "Shrine: The Rarest Soul Label," released by a British label called Ace Records in the late '90s. Ace spent years tracking down whatever master tapes still existed, and vinyl copies of the rest of the songs. Then it negotiated a licensing deal with Eddie Singleton, turning a small fortune's worth of vinyl into a retrospective available to anyone with $34. (Amazon sells each disc for $16.98.) Listening to "Rarest" you realize how carefully Shrine relied on the template designed by Motown, famously described by Berry Gordy as music by black artists that white people would buy. But Singleton and his colleagues didn't write melodies as sweet as those produced by the Motown team, which is part of their slightly gritty charm. There aren't overlooked platinum records to be found here. Just emotion-drenched vocals, lush orchestration and songs so accomplished they force a question: "How come I've never heard this stuff before?"
Among the standouts: "I Wouldn't Mind Crying," by Tippie and the Wisemen, a ballad that savors the agony of love in cymbal crashes that echo like sobs of joy. And "I Won't Be Coming Back," which sets J.D. Bryant's blazing voice against deep and thumping heartbeat drums. Shirley Edwards's performance on "Dream of My Heart" makes you wish she'd accepted the invitation, later offered, to sing the title song of the James Bond movie "Goldfinger." (The tune launched the career of another Shirley, last name Bassey.) Nearly all of the songs come with elaborate horn and string arrangements, and all have that compressed, AM radio sound that is somehow both dated and timeless.
"There was unbelievable talent there," says Sydney Hall, who recorded as a solo vocalist and now lives in Connecticut. "Unbelievable. There were a lot of great acts. At first, it was a thing that none of us comprehended. Then we got old, and we saw where we could have been."
Today, among many Shrine performers and former higher-ups, bitterness about the label's death lingers. Reached at home in D.C. one recent morning, Shirley Edwards refused to discuss the subject, saying she didn't want to salt old wounds. Raynoma, who now lives in California and has been divorced from Eddie Singleton since 1971, politely declined to discuss the topic.
Others, like Harry Bass, talk about Shrine with a sense of bewilderment and surprising emotion.
"When I look back on it, if nothing else, it was a school for talent development," says Bass, sipping coffee in Union Station one afternoon. At 60, he has twinkly eyes and a tranquil air that's ruffled only when he discusses the label. Bass spent much of his life as a D.C. tour guide, work he enjoyed but not the career he had in mind in his twenties.
"I defied my family to have a life in music," he says. "My grandmother proclaimed I'd be a teacher or a preacher, and everyone expected me to go that way."
The resentment, in part, is about money. Neither Bass nor any other performers got much of it from Shrine, not from its original days in business, or from the secondary British market in Shrine vinyl, or from the Ace CDs.
What stings most, though, are the what-might-have-beens and the sense that many members of this professional family have vanished. I asked Bass about some Shrine artists who hadn't been heard from in decades, some of whom are apparently unaware of their remarkable second act in England. In particular, I was curious about the Cautions, an object of special fascination for Shrine fans because it was the only act to release two singles with the label. Little is remembered about the group except the names of a couple of members, one of them known only as AB Jones.
"These were street guys," Bass recalls. "Some of them may be in jail. Some may be dead." He mulls that for a moment, and looks toward the ceiling. He was like a big brother to the Cautions. Suddenly, there are tears rolling down his face. He dries them with a napkin, apologizes and then laughs.
"Sorry," he whispers with a smile. "I didn't know that was in me."
The mass appeal of obscure American soul in England isn't as bizarre as it might initially sound. Brits have a history of embracing artists who've been overlooked stateside. In the '60s, American bluesmen who struggled in their hometowns were greeted as celebrities in London. In the decade that followed, soul singers who had never charted in the United States found, to their amazement, that they had thousands of fans in cities whose names they'd never heard. To Brits, the songs were intensely moving and profoundly exotic.
"You've got to understand, there weren't any ghettos in this country in the '60s, no race riots and no place to get suffering music," says John Manship, owner of one of England's largest retail outlets of American soul. "You get a white guy with his hair all slicked back singing about a girl who'd run off with his best mate, and then you get someone like Otis Redding singing about the same thing -- it's a whole different ballgame. We'd never heard anything like it."
Bands like the Beatles and the Who covered Motown tunes early in their careers, and through the '60s, soul flourished in England. As the sound faded in the States, towns like Wigan and Blackpool became the beating heart of the "Northern soul" movement in the early '70s. The name came from a journalist who noticed a strange phenomenon: kids packed into clubs in towns north of London, dancing for hours to long-forgotten soul singles. These were the prototypes for raves, and attendees were usually stoked by uppers like Dexedrine. For these crowds, spinning a hit like the Supremes' "Back in My Arms Again" wouldn't do; they'd heard that one before.
By 1980, the club scene had crested, but the collector's market it created flourishes to this day. Type the words "Northern soul" into eBay's search window and you'll find about 1,500 singles for sale -- nearly all the product of labels that died fast, featuring artists only soul scholars would recognize.
One of those scholars is Andy Rix. A registered nurse by day and a well-known DJ by night, Rix was captivated by Shrine's music and in the late '80s began a transatlantic campaign to contact the label's artists and back-office types. He wanted to find some vinyl, but more than that he wanted to tell the label's story and bring it some overdue respect. After years of calling and visits to Washington, Rix had located many of Shrine's key players.
"They're fairly stunned to hear from me, actually," says Rix, on the phone from England. "Years later, for someone to come along and explain that there are people who recognize your artistry and respect what you did -- that means something."
"When my wife told me he'd called, I thought it was a hoax," said Sydney Hall from Connecticut. "Then he called back and I heard this thick British accent and I could tell right away he wasn't kidding."
But a handful of artists have yet to be found, among them solo vocalist J.D. Bryant, who is believed to have returned to his native South Carolina, and Bill Dennis, reportedly a deejay at WHUR at some point. Nobody even knows the names of three Baltimore high school girls who were Les Chansonettes. And, of course, there's the mystery of the Cautions. As Rix put it, AB Jones and his group mates "have eluded me for 12 years."
You might assume that AB Jones has been keeping an intentionally low profile. Not so, he says.
"I'm in Laurel," he explained when I called his cell phone recently. "But I'm moving back to the city tomorrow."
I found Jones after a few weeks of networking through Theotrice Gamble, who knew a guy who had a friend who'd run into AB not long ago. After chatting on the phone, we met at the apartment that was his new home in Southeast Washington. There were plenty of unopened boxes on the floor, as well as keyboards and a four-track tape recorder for home studio demos.
"I'm still writing songs, doing some producing," he said as he cleared some space for a chair. "I've been working with some rappers who are really terrific."
Jones is 6 feet 7, soft-spoken, and slowed by rheumatoid arthritis that recently ended his long career as a truck driver. He had moved to Laurel to raise a family with his wife, now deceased, but with his kids grown, he was glad to return to the city. Shrine's overseas renaissance was news to him.
"I had seen signs, people offering money for Shrine stuff, one on Central Avenue," he said. "It tickled me at the time. But I don't own a copy of either of our singles. I gave them to friends a long time ago. So I didn't bother calling the number. I just moved on."
The history of the Cautions seemed fresh in his mind. He met the other members -- Joe Clyburn, Albert Nicks, Billy Blanchard and Julius Hayes -- when he was 14 and hanging around the playground of Stuart Junior High School. "We were just a bunch of dropouts," he said, laughing. But they could sing and dance like the Temptations, and through a local promoter, the quintet performed in hospitals, other schools and, soon enough, in local clubs.
Once they heard about Shrine, they paid an impromptu visit to 3 Thomas Circle, walking through the front door and straight into Eddie Singleton's office. Singleton auditioned the group that day and loved what he heard.
"We sort of became his pet project," Jones remembered. They recorded six songs for Shrine, four of which were released, and the group was soon opening for some big stars, including Wilson Pickett. But "Watch Your Step," the first release, didn't get much attention, nor did a follow-up. A year after Shrine closed, the Cautions split.
Told about England's passion for "Northern soul" and the small manhunt he'd inspired, Jones seemed amazed. I'd brought along the Ace reissue of Shrine's catalogue, which contains five Cautions tracks, and we put a disc in a boombox in his bedroom. Staring at the floor, he listened, for the first time in more than 30 years, to the sounds he had recorded as a teenager.
"It's all right," he said, as "Watch Your Step" plays. He said it as if he meant, "It's only so-so."
"We didn't have a lot of funding, and it was like rush-rush. On this song, I can tell that Joe is hoarse." After taking in the other songs, he stood up slowly and smiled. Mostly, it was reliving the camaraderie of the band, something that he can do only in memory now. All but one of the Cautions are dead.
"I feel good," he said as he escorted me out the door. "I'm glad this happened."
Why did Shrine fail? According to British collectors, there were about 7,000 soul labels in the United States in the '60s, and most of them never turned a profit. A handful made a killing. Shrine was in a long-shot business.
But the label's singers and management contend that some blame lies with Berry Gordy. In the '60s, Motown was the strongest force in soul, and the theory is that Gordy -- loath to compete against his ex-wife and her new husband -- muscled DJs and distributors to ignore Shrine singles. The record industry was then a street fighter's game, and Motown certainly had all the right weapons for a brawl. In the mid-'60s, it made history with a torrent of top-sellers by the Supremes, Marvin Gaye, the Four Tops, the Temptations and young Stevie Wonder. The label had money to spread around and sought-after tunes that every station wanted to play.
Singleton says he has no doubts that Gordy worked to undermine Shrine. He says a local DJ, the late Paul "Fat Daddy" Johnson, visited him one night to tell him so.
"He told me what others didn't tell me: that people had been to see him and that a lot of DJs caved," Singleton says. "Everyone was trying to protect their market share. Motown seemed a little more motivated."
"All we knew," Raynoma later wrote in her autobiography, "was the best distributors, who didn't want to lose Motown affiliations, wouldn't help Shrine."
Berry Gordy didn't return calls for this article. But the head of his sales force at the time, Barney Ales, later Motown's president, said he didn't remember Shrine and didn't think Motown could have caused its demise.
"It's an impossibility to stop a song of any value," says Ales, now retired and living in California. "If you're not successful, you blame somebody else."
Shrine had been bankrolled largely by a group of young Wall Street investors who, according to Singleton, pushed hard for quick results. The man who introduced those investors to Singleton says they groused about it for years.
"Nobody is happy to lose money," says Dimitri Villard, who moved to Washington after graduating from Harvard and who later became a Hollywood movie producer. "But there was always the feeling the money wasn't spent well."
By 1967, the pressure of keeping the label solvent had taken a physical and mental toll on Eddie and Raynoma. They were married by then, and commuting every week to New York and working for other labels to keep cash flowing in. Singleton's doctor warned him that if he kept up the pace, he'd die.
The Singletons departed Washington dispirited and broke, leaving boxes of vinyl in the basement of 3 Thomas Circle, boxes that were eventually shuffled to that doomed warehouse on 14th Street. "It cost me everything I had, everything I could muster," Singleton says of his struggle to get Shrine aloft. Today there are no townhouses at Thomas Circle, just office buildings, chain hotels and a church.
Singleton would remain in the music business for years, working as Nina Simone's manager for a time, then move to South Africa in 1998, where he is now trying to start yet another label, called Mother City Entertainment Group. Looking back, he vividly recalls his impulse to leave Washington without any of the vinyl he'd labored so hard to produce.
"I didn't want to carry any memories with me at that time," he said. "It was too painful."
Shrine's incorporated life -- bookended by two of the most notorious assassinations of the last century -- didn't last long. But the label has never really gone away, and not just because it's been so avidly mythologized and scavenger-hunted on the other side of the ocean. In the city from which it sprang, Shrine has lingered, ghostlike, in places like Theotrice Gamble's home.
Sitting at his dining room table, I asked if it was all right to give his phone number to British collectors, some of whom will be thrilled to learn there's a third copy of "Do What I Want." It'd be a pretty quick way to make $4,000. He thought about it a moment and shook his head.
"No," he said. "Don't give them my address, either. There's no way I'm selling this."
