Chicapah In November of 1974 my ultra-cute girlfriend and I were lucky enough to get tickets to see Stevie Wonder in concert at Dallas’ Memorial Auditorium. We knew we’d get our money’s worth from the headliner (Stevie played for well over 2 hours) but what we didn’t expect was to be blown away by the opening act. Gino Vannelli’s song, “People Gotta Move,” had been getting substantial airplay on the local FM stations but this was the first time any of us in the audience were able to put a face on the voice. Unknown artists sharing the bill with superstars like Wonder are fortunate if they don’t get booed off the stage, much less be remembered the following day, but Gino and his killer band put on such an energetic, tight show that they were impossible to forget. Other than Vannelli’s emphatic posturing while commanding the stage like a buff and bushy-haired Canadian Elvis, the group’s economy-sized setup of two keyboard rigs, drum kit and percussion station was something no one was used to seeing. Especially when that sparse arsenal was able to generate such an amazing, room-filling and gut-punching sound. We all were duly impressed.

Gino and his brother Joe were raised on a diet of traditional jazz (their dad was a big band musician) but found it tough going to get their jazz/pop creations noticed. They got their big break when they camped outside of Herb Alpert’s gate in L.A. and begged him to give their demo a listen. Evidently Herb liked their stuff and their gumption because two months later they were signed to his label, A&M Records, and shortly after that their debut was released. The first album didn’t exactly set the world afire but it did let them get their feet wet. “Powerful People” was their sophomore effort yet there was no jinx affixed to this baby. Any recording that made your stereo sound like a million bucks as this one did had a distinct advantage over the thousands of albums released every year and if it contained several competent tunes its chances of garnering some attention were better than average. Synthesizers were still considered to be more in the category of fancy gadgets than legitimate instruments in that era but the way that Joe and his keyboard cohort Richard Baker were using them in conjunction with standard piano and organ fare gave the group an edge that few of the others had. Keep in mind that polyphonic synths were as yet non-existent in ’74 so the dense wall of sound being manufactured throughout the record had to be painstakingly stacked and layered piece-by-piece, one note at a time. No easy feat.

There’s no better way to open an album than with a barnburner like “People Gotta Move.” A bright, phased electric piano chording over hot drums and percussion grabs your ear immediately while Gino forcefully urges us with “People come on and do it right/shake your behinds like dynamite/chuck all your worries and toss your thighs/to be tame is a pain when you realize/you gotta move.” Well, why the hell not? The startling sound of sharp synthesized horns was quite novel and Vannelli’s unique vocal style made this memorable song intensely likeable the first time you heard it. “Lady” is next and it’s a safe, contemporary ballad that’s not particularly remarkable except for Joe’s jazzy electric piano solo and the overall depth of field he and Richard achieve. They pick the pace back up with “Son of a New York Gun.” A jazzy shuffle throbs underneath this electrifying number that steadily gathers kinetic momentum as it rolls down the road. Joe’s piano ride is excellent but once again it’s the slick synthesized horns that really made this music stand out from the herd. They segue right into “Jack Miraculous,” a Hammond organ-heavy tune that sports a zippy jazz motif wherein drummer Graham Lear displays his acumen on the tubs. Joe’s ARP synthesizer solo sizzles and Gino gets to show off a surprisingly wide range in his voice. “Jo Jo” is a sad and drastically slower R&B-flavored ballad that’s rather average but it stays within the bounds of the overall sophisticated atmosphere the album constantly projects.

“Powerful People” is the longest cut as well as being the most dramatic. It begins as a dynamic jazz/rock anthem with a dense ocean of synthesizers serving as a backdrop to Gino’s passionate singing. He pleads for mankind to take a firm stand against air and water polluters (an enormous concern in the 70s) with lines like “Look at the powerful people/stealing the sun from the day/wish I could do something about it/when all I can do is to pray.” In the middle section the group jumps into a fast-moving shuffle where their jazz roots surface again. Baker’s snarling B3 ride is exceptional and the cool big band ending is fantastic. For the tame “Felicia” a smooth Latin beat supplies some needed variety but, in their defense, they don’t stand pat as they coerce the track to transition upward for the vibrant instrumental segment. “The Work Verse” is an inspiring ballad that starts small with only Gino’s voice and Joe’s electric piano. The subtle synths patiently grow to gargantuan dimensions as he belts out poignant lyrics about a man needing to remain vital and relevant. “I’ve gotta sweat once more/till my bones feel sore/I tell you why/’cause I’m a front row ticket/to a nothin’ show/I’ve gotta crash this prison/and not let go/my heart’s on a sun cloud/screamin’ for progress/’cause I want… work,” he croons. The song’s crystalline finale is appropriately moving. The runt of the litter, “Poor Happy Jimmy” (a tribute to Jim Croce), brings up the rear. Its rhythm is sort of a light samba but it’s a little bit too AOR in its approach for me to endorse so it’s a minor disappointment. They would’ve done well to go out with a bang.

While Gino didn’t ever become a household name across the North American continent I can testify that in North Texas (and in many other metropolitan areas, I’m sure) he caught on big time. This album was a great introduction for an audience that was obviously ripe for his somewhat over-the-top, highly-theatrical style and he consistently sold out medium-sized venues in Dallas for many years running in the mid-70s. “Powerful People” possesses a pervasive jazz aura that further proved synthesizer technology was now a viable asset, wholly compatible with the then-contemporary blending of jazz, pop and rock, a hybrid genre of music that was gaining a foothold in the public’s musical tastes. The Vannelli brothers were on a mission to write and deliver jazz-inflected pop with state-of-the-art technology in the forefront while entertaining their audiences with bold, dazzling Las Vegas-worthy showmanship. It was a stupendously courageous undertaking that was difficult to ignore and “Powerful People” successfully captures that innovative spirit.