Michael Franks/The Art of Tea

Sexy late night sounds from America's bicentennial year

Michael Franks' album The Art of Tea is an artifact that comes to us from the year of America's bicentennial, at a time when those who were single were attempting to negotiate adult roles in post-Vietnam, post-Watergate  America. Ideas about love, sex, and marriage have changed rapidly and so have the rituals around dating and mating.  Young people are as likely to have Joy of Sex and Bhagvad Gita on their bookshelves as the Bible or the latest novel. Popular music has seen an explosion of sounds described as 'mellow' or 'soft' as people seek music that is soothing and introspective.

In Washington D.C., a young, gay DJ named Melvin Lindsey is given a shot at hosting WHUR's new Quiet Storm show, aimed at a demographic of single, educated black women. Lindsey quickly makes the program his own, playing a mix of old school soul and romantic ballads mixed with fusionary jazz. Lindsey draws an audience of urban professionals--black and white, gay and straight-- looking for a romantic vibe.

Quiet storm outgrew its connection to a single show, becoming a general radio format that spread throughout the United Sates. In larger cities there were whole stations devoted to the format, but in small town and rural outposts there were DJs with shows that mimicked Lindsey's programming as well as his delivery. Record companies began to promote artists whose music fit within the format, and artists began to crop up who were creating new music that could be defined as quiet storm as well. One of the names that began to show up on many of these stations' playlists with regularity was Michael Franks, whose first Warner record, The Art of Tea, helped set the standard for the sophistication, sensuality, and overall vibe of the quiet storm genre.

Franks was following the typical career path of a writer who finds a base in academia: English Lit BA, writers program MFA, teaching writing courses while working on a novel. But he was also deeply interested in music, and a course he taught  under the auspices of the music department attracted some music industry types with whom he developed contacts. Writing songs and performing singing gigs, Franks was uncertain he could make the break into full time musician.

Jazz producer and auteur Tommy LiPuma got Franks signed to Warner and produced The Art of Tea. Reportedly he asked Franks who he would like, ideally, to play on the record. Franks named musicians of whom he was already a fan--The Crusaders, David Sanborn, and drummer John Guerin, who had played extensively (and lived with) Joni Mitchell. LiPuma got all of them as well as hiring his longtime friend and associate Nick DeCaro to write string arrangements for some of the songs. DeCaro and LiPuma worked together at A&M Records in the sixties. DeCaro's credits include a wide array of recording artists, including Barbara Streisand, Elton John, The Rolling Stones, and many more.

The opening cut is the slinky, dreamy ballad "Nightmoves," a song that perfectly captures the essence of quiet storm. Immediately we hear Larry Carlton's lonely, bent note that sets the tone, along with Joe Sample's sumptuous electric piano fills. Bassist Wilton Felder and Guerin lock into the slow, intimate groove. It's the sound of a late night TV movie, the sonic equivalent of the light from a digital flip clock/radio.

From this rises Franks' reedy voice, a shift for a male jazz singer, more like James Taylor than, say, Tony Bennett. There's certainly nothing of Sinatra or Torme. Franks is a jazz singer, but he writes his own songs that sometimes swing ("Eggplant," "Jive") and sometimes sound like the province of pop singer/songwriters. His quiet voice is reminiscent of his hero, Tom Jobim, and sometimes of Paul Simon or perhaps Al Stewart. Though musically untrained, he accompanies himself with Jobim and jazz-influenced acoustic guitar.

But it isn't just his voice nor his intimate performing style that sets Michael Franks apart. For one thing, he does write his own songs. On his ***seventeen*** studio records, he is overwhelmingly the songwriter of most of the songs. And his songwriting style in 1975 is more in line with prevailing pop sensibilities than the usual jazz. Consider the opening lyrics to "Nightmoves":

The music begins

And the titles fade in

Starring you and me

The hero is struggling to say

That his lady is far away

In her prison of wishes

It's a mood-setter that generates a sense of mysterious sensuality, of longing, of a dream state. It also hints at a noir-style narrative, but most of that is left to the music--and the listener's imagination.

Franks' unclassifiable nature made him perfect for the FM radio of the period with its blurring of genre lines and search for diverse sounds and styles. Another article in his arsenal is a sense of humor and the ability to trade in double entendre and wink, wink/nudge, nudge jokes. So we get "Eggplant," wherein we hear of his adventure in the 'land of Yin' and his sexy woman with the refrain 'I can't reveal her name/but eggplant is her game.' Franks plays his Jobim-esque guitar style on this one, and of course it is catchy.

"Monkey See/Monkey Do" is the funkiest track on the record, with Felder and Guerin laying down a rock solid beat punctuated by Sample's Fender Rhodes. It's a catchy track that will stick in your mind given Franks' insouciant delivery, referring to his lover as 'peaches' throughout the song. We also get a perfect David Sanborn solo, and this was around the time that the saxophonist had recorded and toured with David Bowie.

Franks ends side one of the album with two slower, mellower tracks. The first, "St. Elmo's Fire" sounds very much like it comes from a seventies movie soundtrack. It seems so familiar that I have to wonder if I heard it before a few times, possibly on a local FM station that had jazz programs at night. Possibly they were playing a quiet storm format part of the evening. Or I may have heard it in the eighties, when Chicago's WLNR adopted a quiet storm format.

In any case, it's a ballad that virtually defines the quiet storm sound with its longing lyrics, sensual strings, and the ever present midnight mood of Joe Sample's electric piano. Tracks like this and the following one, "I Don't Know Why I'm So Happy I'm Sad" invite comparison with keyboardist and arranger Bob James' first several albums. The high level of musicianship on Michael Franks albums is part of the secret to both his consistency and, partially, his success. On The Art of Tea he has a very sympathetic band, and I think LiPuma was smart (and had an eye on the budget) in hiring a band for the whole recording project rather than bringing in a guest keyboard player here, a guest guitarist there. The continuity of the rhythm section plus Sample and Carlton throughout gives the album a kind of late night club feel.

Quiet storm seems to me to be the chill out room to disco's tribal club society dancefloor. It provides the calm and self-reflective atmosphere necessary for human intimacy. It is also charged with the emotions of human relationships: love, fear, jealousy, betrayal, resolution.

Michael brings us back into a swinging feel with the straight ahead jazz of "Jive," this time featuring tenor saxophonist Michael Brecker on a burning solo that summarily fades out to end the track--a frustrating experience for the listener! But part of the beauty of The Art of Tea is that the jazz is simply there, laced around and through the pop songwriting, but it does't get in the way of the vibe, which is what lies at the heart of the quiet storm.

"Popsicle Toes" is another enigmatic, slightly suggestive song that features (speaking of vibes) vibraphonist Larry Bunker. Bunker was a well regarded jazz drummer (he played with Bill Evans) who later began to specialize in vibraphone to help transition from playing jazz clubs to a solid career doing session work. The song was Michael Franks' biggest hit, marking his only Billboard Hot 100 entry, peaking at #43. To me, it's weird that of all the tracks on this album, "Popsicle Toes" was the one to break through. But that's 1976.

"Sometimes I Just Forget to Smile" is an amiable shuffle that wouldn't sound out of place on certain Steely Dan records, thanks in part to Carlson. Joe Sample also plays a really nice solo that moves the track along. I want to take a moment to say that I love Joe Sample as a keyboard player--for me he treads perfectly the line between the dirty/funky and the more sophisticated style. He plays electric piano a lot on The Art of Tea, and his work is very tasty, but it;s a huge treat to hear him on acoustic piano for the album's final track, "Mr Blue." It's a gorgeous melody that essentially features Franks' voice, Sample on piano, and the string arrangement, which is exquisite. It's also a chance to appreciate the sensitivity of drummer John Guerin, and why he played with so many deeply talented artists. His work here adds shadow and drama to the song and elevates it into the stratosphere.

Today you will often come across Michael Franks records in discount bins in used record stores, and you'll rarely go wrong to pick them up if you find that he's your cup of tea. He made a lot of records over the years, and they mostly all feature fantastic musicians--one of my favorites, Tiger In the Rain, features pianist Kenny Barron--which I think is part of the secret that keeps his records in circulation among collectors and listeners.

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