by Max Conroy: 

Major Lance.JPG

The other day I woke up with Major Lance’s Hey Little Girl in my head.  It was the best morning I’d had in a while as a result.  The comforting, safe yet punchy rhythm of the song is perfect for laying there without your wits, looking for motivation to get up.  It’s almost as good as a cup of coffee or at the very least an excellent background for the coffee.

I picked up Um, Um, Um, Um, Um (that’s right five Um’s) the Best of Major Lance in a great record shop in Long Beach, California called Bagatelle Records recently.  I’d heard the name Major Lance before but had no idea what he sounded like.  The cover looked cool, heavy boards and wax, and it was on Okeh records, which I found to be odd.  Okeh always seemed like a label synonymous with the 40s and 50s to me, so a mid 60s soul guy on Okeh was worth a shot.  The back of the record also proclaims under the title ‘The Great Songs of Curtis Mayfield’, and I’m on a huge Curtis kick right now.  This kind of made me suspicious because I didn’t want some hack covering a bunch of Impressions songs and it was $12.  I went to the listening station, which had a Grado cartridge, and threw it on.  It was one of those records where you just had to hear about a second to know that it was worth the money.

It turns out that Major Lance grew up with Mayfield and Jerry Butler; and Mayfield got him a shot with Okeh in 1962.  Pretty much all of his hits were written by Curtis and feature him on guitar and the Impressions on backing vocals.  Lance’s songs seem to typify the Chicago soul sound of the early to mid 60s: smooth Latin flavor, horns and great harmonies.  The Monkey Time and Um, Um, Um, Um, Um were his biggest hits.  His popularity waned towards the end of the decade and he signed with Curtom in 1969, leaving in ‘71 to cash in on the Northern Soul craze in England.  He moved back to the states in the mid 70s, was convicted of selling cocaine, and did four years.  He died at 55 of heart failure in 1994. 

One of my girlfriend’s friends and her four year-old daughter came to visit us the other weekend.  I pulled a record out of its jacket in front of the four year-old and she asked me, What’s that?  A record.  See it’s got these grooves on it that play music…don’t touch it!  I put on Major Lance and she was getting down, I tell you what.  I even danced.  Every morning I hope to wake up with any Major Lance song in my head, but he hasn’t been back.  I’m glad I bought that record.

Hey Little Girl

Um Um