One of the most "indi" songs on my chart, this one first appeared on the LP Sympathetic Sounds of Detroit (2005), a compilation of singles from as-yet-unsigned (to a major label) bands (including the now-signed-to-a-major-label groups such as The Von Bondies, The Detroit Cobras, and The Dirtbombs) from in and near the Motor City. Jack White, acting as a type of musical editor, asked the bands (that he, I believe, selected) to record something that would show the world the new Detroit muscle, and from all the songs on that record (and it's a great album, but for some reason--probably a major label rights issue--it's no longer available on iTunes), this one was the best, the rawest, had the most Iggy Pop/MC-5 type of Detroit punk energy to it, while still able to include a bit of soul and a bit of Motown.
The song's definitely lo-fi: the harmonies are slightly off-key, the drumming occasionally sloppy, the guitar solos unrefined, and the rhythm guitar licks don't show much imagination. However, what makes this record stand to the fore is Wendy Case's shredded-vocal-chords singing and the lyric, which takes as its topic exactly what the title promises it does: the African-American woman. Of course, nothing deep is discussed within, just physical description and obvious sexual innuendo ("The blacker the berry/The sweeter the juice"). That's only the window dressing, though. What puts this record on my list is Case getting so lost in her subject matter that she can't finish the lines in the chorus: she sings the first two lines, and then she becomes so enraptured in that "real black girl," that all she can do is sing "La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-Oww!" Ladies and gentlemen, Case has just shown Katy Perry how to kick out the jams.
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