Joyful Noise Gospel for everybody

The holidays are marked by traditions, as pervasive and long-standing as “The Miracle on 34th Street” and as new and dunderheaded as Bill O’Reilly’s so-called “War on Christmas.” But nothing says Christmas as much as that uplifting (and then quickly sinking) feeling one gets when the first carol is heard, usually while strolling in the public domain. (Mine was in the supermarket, easily 10 days before Thanksgiving.)

I’ve discovered a great alternative to the traditional yuletide song list – gospel, of the soul-drenched swinging variety. Nobody can begrudge you the religious bona fides of the genre, and you reap the twin rewards of freshness and pure enjoyment.

Here are but three recent examples that are well-nigh impossible to resist.

JOHN SCOFIELD is a 57-year-old jazz guitarist who came to prominence playing in some of Miles Davis’ last bands. His solo career since then has been a marvel of variety, as he’s played post-bop, funk, fusion and R&B. He’s collaborated with Joe Lovano, Medeski, Martin and Wood, Gov’t. Mule and countless others, covering everybody from Oscar Hammerstein to Ray Charles.

Mostly he’s written his own material, and his muse is very fertile.

Looking to try something new and to record with his brother-in-law, New Orleans recording studio owner Mark Bingham, he traveled to NOLA. There he recorded his latest, PIETY STREET, the very name of the studio.

Rather than make a record of New Orleans standards, he hit on the idea of a gospel theme. When it came to choosing his sidemen though, he went with the best available, categories be damned, er, darned. George Porter (The Meters) on bass, Ricky Fataar (Bonnie Raitt) and Shannon Powell (Harry Connick) on drums, John Boutte on vocals, and the MVP of the session, Jon Cleary (Bonnie again, and his own Absolute Monster Gentlemen) on keyboards and vocals.

The results are superb.

Scofield has the brains and chops to have really messed with these songs like so many jazz artists do with standards, but he stays within the tradition while putting fresh spins on them. Hence we get the traditional “Motherless Children” with a reggae coda and Hank Williams’ “Angel of Death” done up as a dusty spaghetti-western.

The Rev. James Cleveland’s “Something’s Got a Hold on Me” features skanky tremolo guitar on the verses and a wah-wah infusion on his solo, and “I’ll Fly Away” becomes a back-porch country toe-tapper, sending off the album with a blissful release.

An interviewer asked Scofield about the album and his own religious bent. He answered that he had none, but these songs gave him a feeling that can only be described as sanctified.

LIZ McCOMB can’t be called a dilettante; she’s a devout gospel artist, singing to and about the Lord exclusively. So dedicated to the cause is she that her latest record, THE SPIRIT OF NEW ORLEANS, recorded in 2001, was held up for release until 2008 – because she was so worried what the gospel community would think about the “jazzed-up” versions of these gospel standards.

I haven’t heard about any excommunication for Ms. McComb, and if the gospel world has any sense (or taste) her stature should have skyrocketed.

It’s hard to see what she was worried about. While the album features the indomitable Herlin Riley (Wynton Marsalis alumni) on drums and Kirk Joseph on sousaphone, as well as other ace side horn players and Sunpie Barnes on accordion, only a strict purist (if not prude) would complain.

Hers is a rafter-shaking voice, pure-toned one minute, growling the next. On “Over My Head” she starts with a clear stately intro, foreshadowing the rolling thunder to come with what in other hands might be called a menacing understatement. “Just a Closer Walk With Thee” gets the full-bore New Orleans joyful dirge treatment, guaranteed to turn any wake into a party. “The Big Mess” is a burner, with Ms. McComb testifying in her best trombone tailgating voice. “Old Man River” might be a standard from the secular American songbook (the only non-gospel tune on the record), but it sounds totally in sync here. “You’ve Got to Move” sways at first to Barnes’ accordion swells, then takes flight on piston-driven wings.

McComb contributes four of the 12 songs here, and all sound like parts of the canon – her “30 Pieces of Silver” closing the program with élan.

NAOMI SHELTON (AND THE GOSPEL QUEENS) hasn’t been around very long as a recording artist, but she’s been singing all her life, and she’s almost 70.

Growing up in Alabama, Ms. Shelton sang at her family’s Baptist church. She moved to New York where she came under the spell of the soul greats (James Brown, Otis Redding., et al) and sang at area night clubs. She eventually met her spiritual and musical soul mate, Cliff Driver, whose keyboard, arranging and business skills would guide her to this day.

New York is the home of retro-soul revivalist Daptone Records (Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, The Budos Band), and she found her way to its sympathetic environs. The result is “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, MY BROTHER?” – to which we answer, “I don’t know, but thank God you finally got your chance to ask us that.”

This record mixes gospel and secular messages seamlessly. From “Jordan River” and its baptismal redemption ecstasy to the title track’s righteous protest of our elected leaders’ priority lists, the album has its head in the clouds and its feet on the ground.

Several Dap Kings are on hand to keep the groove going, and Ms. Jones takes a couple of turns in the ever-supportive female Queens backing chorus. The set closes with a sedate but nonetheless thrilling version of Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come,” which fascinatingly vacillates between earthly and celestial meanings.

It’s no accident that gospel’s chord progressions and swelling choruses, when married to gifted lead vocals and swinging arrangements, lead to spine-tingling ecstasy. This physical reaction both leads us to and reminds us of higher feelings and exalted thoughts. It’s why the gospel tent at the fairgrounds is always packed and why certain churches are too.

Taken in the right doses, the music would render antidepressant meds obsolete. They can stave off the holiday blues, too, I’m thinking.