Quincy Jones — The Split (1968)

Before he became the platinum producer for the likes of Michael Jackson, Quincy Jones was an ace film scorer, best known for his work on In the Heat of the Night and They Call Me Mr. Tibbs among other Sidney Poitier vehicles. Many of his best scores have been available on LP or CD for many years, but The Split ('68) has been noticeably absent — until now.

The Split is loosely based on The Seventh, a crime novel by Richard Stark (a non de plume for the late great Donald Westlake). The novel's antihero, Parker, has been renamed McClain, and is played by football legend Jim Brown. The Split is just one of several movies based on Stark/Westlake's work, and Jones is the only composer to score films featuring two Westlake characters, namely Parker and Dortmunder (The Hot Rock, '72).

There are a handful of decent but dated vocal numbers, sung by Billy Preston (alone and with Clydie King), Arthur Prysock, Sheh Wooley and John Wesley), but the real draw is Jones' riveting jazz funk underscore, which is stylistically similar to Jones' score for The Lost Man, which came out around the same time.

Raspy, muted brass jostle with soul jazz organ, electric piano and bluesy electric guitar figures over restless percussion and rumbling bass lines. Occasionally, Jones' semi-abstract compositions and textural arrangements open up to let inquisitive flutes and skeptical strings into the mix.

As usual, Film Score Monthly delivers the full score with alternate bonus tracks and in-depth, copiously illustrated notes. The Split is a must-have for crime jazz fans and the perfect soundtrack for reading Stark/Westlake crime novels.

This review was previously published at the author's soundtrack review site www.ScoreBaby.com.

Jazz Soundtracks — Part 10

The following are excerpts from the book Film and Television Scores, 1950-1979 (McFarland, 2008) by Kristopher Spencer, founder of Scorebaby.com.

Before blaxploitation came into being, African-American Quincy Jones equaled Schifrin’s effort in introducing funk to movie audiences in the mid to late ’60s. Q — as he’s known to many — made his reputation in the ’50s and early ’60s as a talented arranger and composer for jazz legends such as Lionel Hampton, Count Basie and Dizzy Gillespie, and for such singing stars as Frank Sinatra, Billy Eckstine, Sarah Vaughan and Dinah Washington. Beginning in the early ’60s, Q composed numerous big budget crime movies, including four starring Sidney Poitier, Hollywood’s original, black leading man.

Jones constantly experimented with style, incorporating swinging jazz, cool bossa nova, funk, soul and pop into big band or orchestral settings. His classic crime jazz highlights of the period include “Harlem Drive” and “Rack ’em Up” (from The Pawnbroker), “Blondie Tails” (from The Deadly Affair) and “Shoot to Kill” (from Mirage).

Although it is in no way a blaxploitation film, the Academy Awards®-winning In the Heat of the Night (’67) was influential because it features not only a black actor in the leading role but also a score infused with black music. The most telling example is the Ray Charles-sung theme song, which is soulful, funky and swinging. Tracks like “Peep Freak Patrol Car” and “Cotton Curtain” feature an unexpected blend of orchestral tension, bluesy piano fills, moaning Ellington-esque horns, throaty flute squeals and vocal scats; their funk is as potent as moonshine. On “Where Whitey Ain’t Around” a mean wah guitar solo joins an already volatile vibe. Elsewhere, Jones displays his great versatility with passages of pure orchestral movie music (“Shag Bag, Hounds and Harvey”). Taken in its entirety, Heat is but one of Jones’ proto-blaxploitation outings, and not a pure example of what would be heard in the ’70s.

Two other Jones scores from this period also qualify as proto-blaxploitation: the heist flick The Lost Man (’69) and Heat’s sequel They Call Me Mister Tibbs (’70) — both starring Poitier.

The Lost Man theme blends African percussion, an angular melodic motif and a singsong chorus of chanting children to mysterious, hypnotic effect. The theme’s disconcertingly unresolved scraps of melody resurface in more satisfying form on “Main Squeeze” and “Up Against the Wall,” where complicated experimental arrangements are propelled by funky rhythms and electric instrumentation. On ‘Slum Creeper” a funky clavinet keyboard pushes the rhythm forward with slow deliberation as electric guitar competes for the sonic turf. The most straightforward track on the album may be “Sweet Soul Sister,” a catchy mid-tempo number featuring a smooth vocal performance by Nate Turner with backing vocals by the Mirettes.

While The Lost Man remains Jones’ edgiest score, his work on Tibbs proved much more popular. Although the movie isn’t considered pure blaxploitation, its theme created the template for many title tracks to come, including Hayes’ Shaft and Schifrin’s Enter the Dragon. Its hard-driving rhythm section, screaming organ blasts, punchy brass, chicken scratch guitars and vibrato-colored keyboard line set the standard for cinematic funk in ’70. Elsewhere in the score Jones continued to exploit the electric charge he’d harnessed on the theme song. “Fat Poppadaddy,” with its catchy organ lick, screaming guitar solo and fatback drum break, pushed the funk harder and faster. He busted out the blues on “Side Pocket,” with its saxophone solo and call and response between the organ, guitar and horns. Tibbs, like Heat and Lost, is chuck-full of intense, virtuoso arrangements that call upon funk, blues, soul and jazz. Without Jones’ influence, the blaxploitation sound might never have come together so quickly and so potently.