Cut Shuggie Otis some slack. After decades in the wilderness, the L.A. native is finally enjoying the acclaim and attention that eluded him the first time around. His second act started in 2001 with an acclaimed Luaka Bop reissue of his haunted ’70s psych-soul classic Inspiration Information, and kept going with re-releases of his other studio albums from that era. The man who was once a small mystery, known only to hip-hop producers and anyone who looked up the writing credits for the Brothers Johnson’s hit cover of his “Strawberry Letter 23,” is now able to play stages around the world. It’s an appealing story of redemption—which in some ways makes it even more disappointing that Otis’ first collection of new music in over 40 years is such a chore to listen to.
Inter-Fusion is the kind of plodding, overdriven blues-jazz odyssey that Otis has occasionally hinted at during his recent run of live performances. He shows no interest here in touching on the zonked-out brilliance of Inspiration Information highlight “Happy House” or the deep funk of his 1970 debut, Here Comes Shuggie Otis. Instead, he calls back to his early days backing up his father, ’50s R&B pioneer Johnny Otis, and perhaps previews a future showing off his instrumental virtuosity in bars.
That facility with a guitar is the one element that Otis really has going for him on Inter-Fusion. He attacks each song ferociously, peeling off solos that are just showy enough to prove why he was qualified to jump in the fire as Frank Zappa’s bassist on “Peaches En Regalia” at age 16. His fuzzed-out breakdowns on a meaty re-recording of “Ice Cold Daydream” (originally found on his 1971 album Freedom Flight) crack through the light funk groove nicely, kicking out a subtle nod to Jimi Hendrix’s “Third Stone From the Sun” for good measure. And each song is anchored by his sturdy yet flexible rhythm work.
What Otis needed was a creative partner who could help him plot a course between the extremes of his past achievements and whatever he’s attempting here. Instead, he hitches his star to Kyle Hamood, a member of L.A. rock nobodies Them Guns, who buffs and polishes every last inch of Inter-Fusion until you can practically see your reflection. Otis cedes almost all control to the producer and the rhythm section—drummer Carmine Appice and bassist Tony Franklin, both studio lifers—letting them write all the songs and clutter them up with showy fills and sickly synth tones. It’s enough to make you wish someone had given him Dan Auerbach’s number instead, or Daptone Records leader Bosco Mann’s.
There’s no getting around the fact that Inter-Fusion is a missed opportunity. For all its failings, though, at least Otis sounds engaged with the material—he’s having fun, even if no one else is. This isn’t the leap forward fans might have hoped for, but if it gives him the momentum to keep writing and recording, that’s better than nothing.
