STILL WICKED AFTER ALL THESE YEARS:
Wilson Pickett's It's Harder Now

by Mike Britten

During the pivotal summers of '65 and '66, in garages all over the land, kids who played in bands routinely cut their teeth on covers of "Wicked" Wilson Pickett's Memphis soul hits: "In The Midnight Hour," "Land Of 1000 Dances," "Mustang Sally," "Ninety-Nine And A Half (Won't Do)," "634-5789" and "Funky Broadway."

The list goes on and on, moving from Memphis to Mussel Shoals, reaching into the early 70s and the slicker production values of Gamble and Huff at Philly International. It's a staggering achievement, honored by Pickett's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1991.

Back in those early days, there was no better way to get from the woodshed to a Sweet Sixteen gig at the local VFW than by including those tunes in your set list. And there was no better way to get a roomful of scared, horny wallflowers up off of their butts than by leaning into Steve Cropper's opening power chords to "Midnight Hour."

It's Harder Now, Pickett's first new album in over twelve years, is a triumphant, raunchy, funk and blues-injected return to the studio for the Wicked Mr. P. If you're looking to put together some sounds for a Y2K bash, this disc should definitely be on your short list.

Don't worry - this is not an embarrassing attempt to update the Alabama-born Pickett's relevance by burying his glorious gospel shout beneath layers of electronica. To make that point clear, the disc's liner notes declare its contents to be "Certified Organic." Meaning "This album contains no samples, loops, or digital instruments. All the music herein was performed by actual musicians in real time without click tracks."

Pickett and friends are justifiably proud of that fact. The house band on this date, led by producer/guitarist/writer Jon Tiven, kicks ass. The fatback grooves are all rock steady. And, thanks to advances in recording technology since Pickett's early thin-sounding sides, these tracks jump out of your speakers like a heat-seeking missile.

The basic unit - guitar, bass, drums, and organ - in the classic style of Booker T. and the MGs, is sparingly augmented on some cuts by saxophone, trumpet, harmonica and background vocals. Pickett, at 58, sounds like he's having the time of his life. If age has diminished his falsetto, it has only deepened his passion.

Slinky romps through the sexually-charged "Taxi Love," "What's Under That Dress," and the nutty Little Richard-styled rocker, "All About Sex," revel in the freedom to say exactly what you mean. A freedom that, if openly expressed, would have resulted in the blacklisting and rapid demise of any commercial radio-dependent career in a pre-Woodstock culture. Hell, even naked hippies on real good acid couldn't quite imagine a Dirty Mind-era Prince (let alone Funkadelic's "Standing On The Verge Of Getting It On").

Think about it; the thinly-veiled eroticism of "Midnight Hour" (and Aretha's Atlantic hits from the same period) climbed the charts more than a year before Jim Morrison's menacing version of Willie Dixon's "Backdoor Man" and almost 10 years before Marvin Gaye's 1973 album, Let's Get It On.

One of the things about this new CD that consistently blows me away is Pickett's phrasing. He can convey a vast range of emotion and profound depth of desire in one spontaneous moan. So even though we live in a time when gangster rappers, shock jocks, neo-nazi metal heads and other paragons of pop culture are free to be as blatant as they wanna be, mature, authentic artists like Wilson Pickett understand the nuance of soul.

For evidence of this, dig the way he leans into, stretches out, and milks the words "drives me around" in the first verse of "Outskirts of Town." I'm tellin' ya man - this is some deep shit. (And I can't mention this cut without kudos for Sally Tiven's bass line. Every time I hear it I want to fall to my knees and pray.)

Much as I've accentuated the sexual themes present on It's Harder Now, other songs on the album cover a lot more ground than simply the relentless pursuit of nookie. "Bad People," with an infectious Miami groove that is reminiscent of Betty Wright's "Cleanup Woman," conveys what any kid attempting to bust out from under the wing and cage of overly protective parents knows; if you wanna have some real fun, head for "the wrong side of town."

Of course R&B albums often contain as many cheatin' songs as your average country record. "It Ain't Easy" and "Better Him Than Me" fit the bill. "Stomp," however, crosses the line between hurt feelings and all-out revenge in the time honored tradition of murder ballads like "Stackalee" or Johnny Cash's "Delia's Gone." But instead of gentle guitar chords strummed by a campfire, we get a killer six-minute, one-chord funk vamp during which Pickett declares that he is "gonna snatch up a stump and bury your rump." It's a riot.

On Dan Penn's new "Soul Survivor," a four-minute survey of the entire history of soul music, Pickett sets the scene: "I was standin' on the dock of the bay with Don Covay/We was talkin' about all the things that Otis used to say" and a moment later, after nods to Solomon Burke and Aretha, "I remember nineteen sixty five/Everybody was still alive/I'm a soul survivor."

So yeah, Otis Redding is gone. Joe Tex - he be gone. Dave Prater (of Sam and Dave) - gone. James Brown? Might as well be gone. Sam Cooke? A long, long time gone. Poor, tragic Marvin Gaye? Blown away by his own father. Aretha singing opera? Please, let's not even go there. Cutis Maayfield? He got on board the train to nowhere. But "Wicked" Wilson Pickett? Not only is he very much alive, but alive and kicking.

Although, as he sings on the new album's title track, "I used to have a heart of gold/But it's harder now," thanks to this unexpected, terrific new work, we are all soul survivors.