By the mid-’70s, vibraphonist and bandleader Roy Ayers had effectively ostracized himself from the jazz community, his remaining support diminished entirely by his move from fusion-inflected funk to disco. While 1976 saw his biggest hit to date, the timeless “Everybody Loves the Sunshine,” Ayers knew that he needed a quick follow-up to sustain his momentum. He set his sights squarely on the disco crowd and hit his mark with “Running Away,” a massive club hit that proved to be one of the most popular singles of his career. Unfortunately, the full-length that accompanied its release, the mostly forgettable Lifeline (1977), didn’t wade in the same pool of ingenuity as its lead single, and Ayers quickly moved on to prepare his next dancefloor smash, 1978’s “Sweet Tears.” Those familiar with the truncated edition of “Running Away” included on Lifeline only got half of the story, as the extended 12″ version is quite simply one of the most incredible pieces of music ever recorded.

The track opens with a one-bar fill from drummer John Mosley before diving right into the groove that will provide the foundation for every additional element of the arrangement; indeed, it does not change for the entire seven-minute duration of the song. Immediately, one is confronted with one of the most infectiously funky basslines ever committed to tape, a flighty two-bar exposition by bassist William Allen that is much more difficult to execute cleanly than it sounds:

Allen thumps out the root note of Eb on the downbeat before jumping up a flatted tenth to begin his nimble descent to Ab in the subsequent bar. He performs a quick octave leap for decoration, anticipates the Bb just shy of the third beat, then teases with the root just before the pattern repeats itself. With all of the activity and syncopation, it’s almost difficult to believe that Allen is merely elaborating on a simple I - IV - V progression. His bass tone is as critical as his line, a monitory growl that’s just slightly dry, but not quite trebly enough to fuzz up the lower frequencies during the second bar. This pattern is repeated, without any fills or variation whatsoever, for the entirety of the track. I’ve heard scores of phenomenal basslines in my day, but this has to be one of the top five in my book. It’s utterly, unbelievably brilliant.

With all of the busyness in the bass, the other members of the rhythm section are freed up to support its dominance. The drum pattern is a basic disco beat with minor variations on the snare and hi-hat, while the guitar is content to rapidly strum out a series of thin chords, its tone supplemented by a wah-wah pedal. A conga pattern can also be detected in the right channel, a sprightly Latin flavor that benefits the track immensely.

After four bars of establishing the groove, the first of many vocal chants enters with the song’s mantra: “Do-be-doo, run run run.” Hand claps on the second and fourth beats also make an appearance, adding an almost surprising buoyancy to the rhythm. The first lyrics enter at 0:44, sung by a predominantly female chorus, and describe a one-sided relationship: “‘Cause you’ve been mean to me, and I’ve been good to you, and I’ve been oh so true.” The content is secondary to the rhythm of the words, the way the syllables edge into the groove in a polyrhythmic fashion. Ayers begins to sing at 1:33, but his cycle of silence every two bars gives the impression of confused, half-completed thoughts, those of a man unable to comprehend the reasons of a failing relationship. At 2:24 the chorus returns, and Ayers chants mournfully in the background: “I’m running away.”

The lone notable distinction between the album and club versions occurs at 2:48, where the album cut would have begun to fade out. The guitar drops out and a shimmering Fender Rhodes enters, augmented by a massive dose of tremelo, to start a sequence of gorgeous chords that are less about harmonic substance than thick splashes of color to add to the mix. Ayers begins his vibraphone solo at 3:20, somewhat passively at first, then increasing in confidence and versatility. At 4:20 the guitar returns, and it’s almost startling how critical its role is after exposure to its absence. The vocals then layer themselves on top of each other for the ecstatic climax, a dense web of “doo-be-doo”s, “running away,” and “hey!”s that ricochet and echo off each other, increasing in intensity as they overlap. As the track fades abruptly its potency has long been released, and anyone could be forgiven for placing the needle back on the lip of the record to begin the dance again.

“Running Away (12” Version)” – Roy Ayers 6:58 (Lifeline, Polydor 1977)