It was in around 1939 that Duke Ellington reached the peak of his long and illustrious career. He had recently hooked up with a young Billy Strayhorn, who would go on to be his main collaborator for nearly thirty years. He also recruited the even younger Jimmie Blanton, an inventive and deeply influential bassist. The final piece of the puzzle was when tenor sax player Ben Webster joined Duke's extraordinary band whose lineup already boasted the likes of Harry Carney, Johnny Hodges and Cootie Williams. With standards already at an all time high, the great bandleader went to work on compositions such as "The C Jam Blues", "Concerto for Cootie" and "Never No Lament", numbers that would become fixtures of his peerless concert setlist for the remainder of his life.
Still, nothing ever stays the same. Blanton passed away in 1942, just shy of his twenty-fourth birthday while the volatile Webster left the following year. On a much less serious note, those three great instrumental works would eventually have lyrics added to them so they could go on to become beloved standards. "The C Jam Blues" became "Duke's Place", "Concerto for Cootie" was altered to "Do Nothin' Til You Hear from Me" and "Never No Lament" transformed into "Don't Get Around Much Anymore". What were once tight little dance numbers with concise solos and impeccable group interplay became vehicles for Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald and Willie Nelson to dazzle audiences on their own. While there would still be a place for instrumental pop and jazz, the writing was on the wall: the public will generally opt for a singer over a bunch guys taking turns on their respective instruments.
Somehow or other, though, the gentlemen behind Young-Holt Unlimited never got the memo. "Am I the Same Girl" had been recorded by singer Barbara Acklin, who had already scored a Top 20 hit in both Canada and the United States with "Love Makes a Woman", in 1968 but then it was decided to see what it was like without her on it. A new piano part was placed on it but otherwise it was the same song. Except it had now been renamed "Soulful Strut".
As readers of this blog may have noticed, I'm a bit of a sucker for instrumentals. Two of the first three number one hits that I gave a full score of ten out of ten happen to be vocal free (or, in the case of "Telstar", lyric free but that's close enough). I also rate fellow Canadian chart toppers "So Rare" (again, close enough especially since it is the chorus drags it down), "Sail Along Silvery Moon", "Walk - Don't Run" and "Wonderland by Night" highly. Sure, "Raunchy" and "Beatnik Fly" are nothing special but nor are they dreadful either. Yet, they all operate in a pop landscape in which lyrics aren't required. Like fellow RPM chart topper "No Matter What Shape (You Stomach's In)", "Soulful Strut" smacks of that instrumental cut that eighties and nineties bands would occasionally toss off on albums or B sides, the sort of thing that they clearly couldn't come up with words for. (Examples include The Smiths' "Oscillate Wildly" and The Housemartins' "The Mighty Ship")
While it leaves a satisfying first impression, "Soulful Strut" eventually settles into a pleasant, head nodding vibe that is fun to listen to but fails to make a serious mark. It has a nice groove with tinges of gospel and the piano solo in place of Barbara Acklin is effective. Still, it can't quite kick into another gear. While many of the great instrumentals by Booker T. and the MG's have moments that make them worth coming back to, Young-Holt Unlimited's one major hit sounds more or less just as it did the first time you heard it. There's nothing wrong with having it on but do you really need to hear more than once or twice?
Finally, as I just alluded to, Young-Holt became a one hit wonder (and one of the less renowned examples at that). Eldee Young and Isaac "Red" Holt had been jazz musicians, backing the acclaimed pianist Ramsey Lewis before trying out some of this pop business. The Wikipedia entry on "Soulful Strut", however, mentions that they may not have even played on their lone hit with studio musicians taking their place. Certainly sessioners from the record label Brunswick must have joined them on horns but I prefer to think that this is indeed them. With an increasing number of impostor acts in the late sixties, I shudder to think that even experienced jazz cats were being replaced so easily. They may not have been cornerstones of Duke Ellington's Orchestra or anything but the Young-Holt guys were more than capable of being the foundation of a good but underwhelming pop hit.
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