In much the same vein as Kenny Dope’s Kay-Dee label’s recent “Mellow Madness” release, “Darwin’s Theory” is a slick-but-organic hearkening back to the embryonic days of what’s come to be known as “Rare Groove” and “Boogie”. Chock full of fast-paced dance groovers, this collection of tunes didn’t see the light of day until it was “rescued” from the hands of its owner, session guitarist and pastor Darwin Jones, most notable for his work with the likes of Sly Stone and Ike Turner.
The story of “Darwin’s Theory” begins in the mid-western, metropolitan purgatory of Tulsa, OK. Looking to branch out from his musical stasis, Darwin Jones set forth west to seek fame, fortune and a change of scenery. Eventually, as most young, impressionable youth do, he wound up in Los Angeles, doing odd jobs and landing sessions with the aforementioned luminaries. He left such an impression on Mr. Stone and his engineer that, surprisingly, he was given the keys to the proverbial kingdom — Sly’s then state-of-the-art recording studio located within his residence. Jones wasted no time assembling a band comprised of old Tulsa compatriots and ex-bandmates and set forth to record, in my estimation, one of the best unknown dance LPs in existence.
Recorded throughout the course of late 1977/early 1978, “Darwin’s Theory” effectively bridges the gap from discotheque to modern soul. An equal assortment of ballads and up-tempo floor-fillers, which was typical of the period, there’s very little in the way of innovation. Still, what this collection of recordings lacks in ambition it more than makes up for in spirited fun, and cuts such as “Keep On Smiling”, “If You Dance Tonight” and “Funky Sounds” will see to it that even the most vehemently anti-disco contingency is stomping its feet and snapping its fingers. The sole single to see release prior to the issuing of this LP on Lotus Land some thirty-three years later, “Accept the Truth”, is a slow-burning, mellow groover, replete with the excessive flourishes indicative of its era: lush string arrangements, a bubbly, complex bassline and wailing, slightly off-kilter vocals that recall the Wonder-esque croon of notorious soul act Wee’s equally controversial frontman Norman Whiteside.
“Darwin’s Theory” is a great documentation of an era steeped in decadence and debauchery, but not without its fair share of artistic indulgence and creativity. Though this album isn’t as ambitious in its scope as Wee’s “You Can Fly On My Aeroplane”, it’s just as interesting if not for the underlying theme of one man’s quest to break away from his humble, constricting beginnings and forge an attempt to leave a lasting musical legacy. That legacy never came to pass, but this intriguing artifact is worthy of several spins nonetheless.
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