Robert Palmer - Sneakin' Sally Through The Alley

If you only know Palmer for 'Addicted to Love', consider this funky gem from 1974

Click here to listen as you read

This week's Missed Listen is an odd one to write about, falling as it does into the rare bracket of "albums by artists I had a genuine dislike for (at one point)”.

Allow me to explain. I first came across Robert Palmer like most people my age: via Addicted To Love, a classic of shiny 80s pop rock with a video that definitely hasn't aged well, and which deserves all the parodies that have since been made of it.

Palmer also sat in another 'irrational reasons to dislike an artist' category for me: he always wore a suit. Now granted, as I've aged, I can appreciate a singer in a good suit - Nick Cave, for example - but in the 80s there was something really dislikable to me about artists rocking formal wear. It all felt a bit Gordon Gecko; a bit "greed is good" somehow.

But I digress. My point is that from this starting point, Robert Palmer never went on to do anything that really caught my ear. Don't get me wrong; all taste is subjective and the man sold a lot of records, so feel free to decry me as a philistine here. Nonetheless, my opinion still stands.

For this reason, you can imagine how surprised I was when I finally heard Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley - Palmer's first solo album since leaving Vinegar Joe, the band that also featured another solo star in the making, in Elkie Brooks.

The circumstances as to how I came to discover this album are equally bizarre. A good friend of mine, artist Dave The Chimp, was walking through Bethnal Green one day when he found a vinyl copy of Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley just lying there on the pavement. How it got there was unclear, but it most certainly looked discarded. So Dave picked it up and took it home, curious as to what this record sounded like. He loved it and couldn't believe his luck, so when he next saw me, he mentioned it and said I should grab a copy.

I think to most, Palmer's output would be defined by Addicted To Love; that slick, mass market pop rock that sold in the millions. However his earlier work is far more interesting, and Sneakin’ Sally Through The Alley is a stone cold classic.

One simple explanation as to why is the players that Palmer drafted in to join him on the album. Legendary funk outfit The Meters provided the backbone for four of the eight songs, whilst the New York Rhythm Section - comprising session legends Bernard Purdie and Cornell Dupree among others, both of whom feature in Missed Listens’ first ever piece - rounded out the other three. Lowell George of Little Feat played guitar on five of the tracks, and Steve Winwood even pops up on the final track, playing piano.

In terms of talent then, it's a dream line-up.

Opening track is a straight up Little Feat cover, written by Lowell George, Sailing Shoes. It sets the tone for what is to follow: loose, funky rock, very much a product of the players.

The first three tracks are presented as something of a continual trio, so Sailing Shoes gives way to Hey Julia, which catches your ear as you segue from the loose funk of the opener to this bossa drum machine beat that guides the song. Perhaps in this context it is less of a shock to learn this is only song not featuring either The Meters, Lowell George or the New York Rhythm Section. That said, the way the song holds its own between the opening track and the album's title track that follows it is certainly a testament to the songwriting here.

Sneakin’ Sally... was written by Allen Toussaint and was originally performed by Lee Dorsey back in 1971. Whilst the opening has a drum break to die for, it is interesting to listen to purely because I think it highlights just how good Palmer's version is.

The original is funky in its own way, but is somehow more straight-up and obvious. Palmer's take on the other hand seems to ooze effortless angular funk, again showcasing why The Meters are rightly revered as the funk legends they are. It is a true gem.

Despite the album comprising a fairly even split of tracks in which The Meters play versus the New York Rhythm Section, this is a surprisingly coherent album. Somehow that southern vibe bleeds through all of the tracks, with that swagger ever-present throughout.

(Writing this, I wonder why I am so surprised at this. Pinning down the New York Rhythm Section was Bernard Purdie FFS, one of the greatest and funkiest drummers of all time! So why it should be a shock that the loose funk manages to exist throughout is a mystery to me, on reflection)

It isn't all upbeat; like any great album, there is variety in tempo and tone, with slower tracks like Get Outside and From A Whisper To A Scream (the second of two Allen Toussaint compositions on the alnbum) serving to ensure a welcome breather at just the right times.

A special mention should also go to the album's closing track, Through It All There's You. Twelve minutes in length, it is perhaps the sum of the album's parts thus far. A special mention should go to Bernard Purdie who once again delivers a staggeringly funky shuffle beat; truly one for the ages. As a song, it is almost in thrall to the drummer, allowing these peaks and troughs of groove to carry the track along, Palmer's own singing remaining relatively low key throughout. As a way to close an album, it's a fine one.

I've read elsewhere that Palmer was great at appropriating musical styles - something these days I think would be taken as an insult. Certainly on this album, that is the case; Palmer himself was born in Yorkshire, so let's not pretend he was part of the New Orleans scene of the Meters or the rich musical history of the New York Rhythm Section. Nonetheless, the final result here is a brilliant one that has truly stood the test of time.

From here, Palmer never quite recaptured my attention to the same extent. His album Clues is definitely worth a shout, featuring the hit Johnny and Mary but more importantly sporting a particularly odd blend of rock on Side 1 and more new wave, angular tracks on Side 2, culminating with a Gary Numan composition, Found You Now, as the closer. It is definitely worth your time.

Past Clues though, I'm afraid Palmer did little to interest me, descending into that besuited pop rock I mentioned at the start. It’s possible there’s gems hidden in there; if so, by all means mention them in the comments below.

No matter though; Sneakin’ Sally is a brilliant album, and one that should be in every collection. If it had been the only album Palmer had dropped, it still would have amounted to one hell of a career. Enjoy!