After the advent of the independent record label – let’s just give the credit to Sam Cooke, since the genre we’re about to take a trip through is as tied to the progress of black folks as any other – a slew of outlets began popping up. Some were more valid than others. But that’s not really the point. The fact that folks without significant ties to the music industry were able to put to tape what they felt was as important a step in civil rights as any other (post angry comments below).

Even with this, though, some of the independents ended up being more powerful and holding more sway over the industry than others. Of course, Warner Brothers, Atlantic and others still basically had a hold on the airwaves – as they do now. But the Buddah affiliated labels really covered everything that a music geek could ever want. From the Flamin’ Groovies to jazz and everything in between, Buddah found a market in the counter culture of the day and capitalized upon it.

As its first full length release, founder Neil Bogart, saw fit to issue Safe as Milk from Captain Beefheart in 1967. That wouldn’t in any way define the label and eventually Buddah would acquired Cobblestone Records in addition to a few others. That label, though, was run by Joe Fields who also was in charge of overseeing Muse Records. Primarily the labels used a producer named Don Schlitten for its records – not always, but frequently enough. And for whatever reason, often times these two labels released work by the same artists. And it’s for this reason that the Harold Ousley catalog is a bit convoluted.

The tenor player was first given an opportunity to lead a date in 1961, but for some unknown (to me) reasons he didn’t again record under his own name until Bethlehem released the 1972 album Sweet Double Happiness. That disc would be the first of three albums Ousley released that year.

Following that up, the traditional looking The Kid was issued on Cobblestone Records. Later that year, though, The People’s Groove was put out by Muse. And really the only reason that this all bares recounting is the fact that these last two discs shared a number of the same tracks.

Each disc moved briskly through soul jazz territory and found funk at some points. But the inclusion of “Me and Bobby McGee” on both albums is something that should inspire consternation on the part of fans. Not only is that, obviously, a cover, it isn’t one that’s all too inspired. But beyond that the title track from The Kid is reprised on the subsequent disc as well.

And while Ousley’s playing might be considered by some to be average at best, this bizarre tracking in his catalog seems to only work to dissuade more folks from hunting down these discs. As much as I can figure, though, with the demise of Cobblestone and the continuation of Muse, some work that had already been recorded needed an outlet. And rather than finance enough rehearsal and studio time to write some new tunes, the label honchos figured that if a song worked once, it would work again. The unfortunate thing about all of this is – for Ousley at least – the fact that if The Kid and The People’s Groove were combined and edited down, it would make for a really strong disc. As it is now, though, these two offerings come off as a tangential footnote to the genre.