Chicapah In the late 60s and early 70s there suddenly appeared a host of groups sporting large horn sections. They seemed to be springing up in every corner of the world, intent on transplanting a big band mindset into the ready and willing heart of rock & roll. (My theory on why this happened was due to The Beatles making horns cool again by incorporating them in songs like “Got To Get You Into My Life.”) The most notable of this new breed were Blood, Sweat and Tears and The Chicago Transit Authority but there were many other similarly-talented-but-as-yet-unsigned outfits flying just under the radar like Tower of Power and Rare Earth. The obvious thing that set Cold Blood apart from the horny herd was the appealing presence of a diminutive female dynamo fronting the group instead of the prototypical chick magnet macho Adonis with a golden throat. But little Lydia Pense wasn’t just some trivial curiosity piece. She could earnestly belt it out with fire and passion on a par with most any other singer of either gender in that era. It’s her strong vocal acumen that characterizes what this band was all about more than any other aspect of their sound.

I’ve never been all that enchanted by girl singers in general (then or now). I’m utterly mystified as to why I harbor that stubborn bias but I’ve always been very hard to please when it came to the ladies, unfairly comparing all of them to the legends I did enjoy hearing in those days like Aretha Franklin, Barbara Streisand and Dionne Warwick. Especially with that in mind I’m not sure what made me spring for this platter by an unknown group out of San Francisco in ‘69. It may’ve been the intriguing picture of the pretty blonde on the front of the album cover and/or the photo of what appears to be nine oddly connected people on their way to a Halloween party on the back. I do know I was a Chicago fanatic at the time so perhaps I was just eager to get another fix of funky, brash saxophones, trombones and trumpets shot into my cranial veins. Whatever the reason, I took a calculated risk with Cold Blood and, while I wasn’t blown away by their debut, I’ve never regretted purchasing it. It offers an honest look at what was going on in that jazzy niche of music as the revolutionary 60s decade came to an end.

The late, great Bill Graham signed them to his San Francisco Records label after a successful audition and, being no fool, he was likely the one who suggested they make the lovely Lydia the central focus. The album’s opener, “I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel To Be Free” features Pense’s soulful voice wafting a capella in the beginning as if to leave no doubt as to what would distinguish and separate this band from the rest of the rabble. The song’s patiently-built, brick-by-brick construction is very engaging as it gradually grows in intensity until becoming a huge brass attack led by Lydia’s powerful lungs before going out as quietly as it came in. “If You Will” follows, a slow blues number written by their keyboard man Raul Matute. I’m normally apathetic when it comes to these kinds of tunes but the ultra-dynamic arrangement allows the fat and sassy horn section to stand up front and bray in your face, making it difficult if not impossible to ignore them. Jerry Jonutz’ saxophone solo is low on technique but spectacularly high in intensity and, say what you will about these boys and girls, they certainly can’t be accused of holding anything back. “You Got Me Hummin’” is next and it’s a generous slice of hard-rocking west coast R&B. While the ambient sound is identical to that of the first two cuts, spotlighting a lack of studio experience on the resume of everyone involved in the production, kudos must be handed out to Matute for delivering a suitably fierce, growling Hammond B3 organ ride. (In my tiny sphere of existence that glorious instrument can make amends for a ton of transgressions.) However, the rhythm section of Rod Ellicott on bass and Frank J. Davis on drums is somewhat stiff and I attribute that flaw to the deficiencies of the latter half of the team. He just doesn’t have the ability to master this kind of feel in his limited bag of tricks. What it boils down to is the fact that their bold brass department and Pense’s fevered wailings are the best things about this group and both are on full display on this track so all is not lost.

Their slightly funkified version of the Willie Dixon classic “I Just Want To Make Love To You” garnered some airplay on the still embryonic FM radio stations broadcasting in north Texas around that time and it’s possible that their different approach in presenting this standard may have caught my ear and contributed to my investing in them. One thing’s for sure, Lydia sings it like she means it and it’s sexy as all get out. The middle segment is very big band-ish as they pitch in to support another gutsy sax ride from Jerry and together they establish a unique atmosphere around this oft-covered tune. A dramatic soul revue-styled introduction for “I’m A Good Woman” leads to an up tempo, James Brown-like groove for Pense to wildly croon atop but, other than founder and guitarist Larry Field’s gritty guitar lead, it’s all quite pedestrian. They seamlessly segue from that into “Let Me Down Easy,” a smooth R&B ballad that gives license to Lydia to wail away with unrestricted abandon. Yet it’s the humongous descending horn lines in the later going that supply the payoff moments. They close with another helping of the Godfather of Soul type of vibe in “Watch Your Step” and it causes me to wonder if the petite Pense had any of JB’s dance moves to break out on stage. Danny Hull’s squealing saxophone solo is rather novel but, other than that distraction, there’s not much happening in the way of variety, just a whole lot of power-packed funky soul where Lydia tries a bit too hard to emulate her mentor, Janis Joplin. Sorry, lady, there was only one Janis.

One of the outstanding traits that fills this record and goes a long way in making up for the mediocrity in the songs they chose to present is the group’s unbridled enthusiasm that jumps right out at the listener from start to finish. Some bands, when they finally get their big break and record an album, are too tentative and cautious to let it all hang out for fear of making mistakes. Not this bunch. I have a feeling that the excitement and drive they brought to the Fillmore West stage was captured, warts and all, on their debut and I find that quality charming in its innocence. If you like loud horn ensembles blaring with all their might behind a go-for-broke female vocalist as if there was no tomorrow then I think you’ll find a lot to like about “Cold Blood.” Simply approach it with lowered but realistic expectations and you won’t be disappointed.