Category: Soul (Page 6 of 11)

Daniel Merriweather: Love & War


RIYL: Mark Ronson, Al Green, Elton John

It is said that late is better than never, but in an industry where timing is everything, the decision to push Love & War, the solo debut of Australian soul singer Daniel Merriweather – it is actually his second album; his first one remains unreleased – to 2010 is a curious one. If memory serves, the first word to come out about the album dropped in late 2007, presumably to take advantage of the buzz surrounding Merriweather’s performance of the Smiths’ “Stop Me if You Think You’ve Heard This One Before” on Mark Ronson’s album Version, released earlier that year. So what gives?

Our best guess: too many ballads. Love & War sounds exactly like you would expect a Mark Ronson-produced Daniel Merriweather album to sound. The arrangements are vintage soul and cutting-edge recording techniques at the same time, and Merriweather, who sounds like a soulful version of UB40’s Ali Campbell, emotes the ever-loving daylights out of these songs. The results are consistently pleasant and occasionally stunning, notably the horn-drenched “Change,” the Al Green-ish “Getting Out,” and the “California Dreamin'”-cribbing “Could You.” Give Merriweather credit for aiming high – the opening track “For Your Money” sports half a dozen key changes – but a few more shifts in tempo would have worked wonders. (J Records 2010)

Daniel Merriweather MySpace page
Click to buy Love & War from Amazon

Was (Not Was): Pick of the Litter 1980-2010


RIYL: Tom Tom Club, Kid Creole & the Coconuts, the Boneshakers

In a perfect world, Was (Not Was) would be celebrating its 30th anniversary with something other than a vault-polishing compilation on a label known for reissuing old K-Tel records and The Best of the Five Man Electrical Band – but then, this is a band that has always reveled in the odd and inappropriate, so it’s only fitting that the band is celebrating its most recent milestone by giving us Pick of the Litter 1980-2010. It isn’t as good as a new album, but as far as reheated leftovers go, Litter ain’t bad, either in terms of breadth (19 tracks, culled from across the band’s entire catalog) or selection (five non-album mixes, including the 12” version of “Wheel Me Out” and the 7” version of “Out Come the Freaks”). Was (Not Was) has also never received a proper anthology, so this set actually fills a need for that small subset of the population that has warped enough taste to appreciate the band’s cracked dance music, but has somehow never bought any of its albums. A microscopic market, maybe, but Pick of the Litter still hangs together better than it has any right to, considering it contains vocal performances from Mel Torme, Leonard Cohen, Kim Basinger, and Ozzy Osbourne – and still makes plenty of room for the peerless Sir Harry Bowens and Sweet Pea Atkinson, whose dash of grit was always the cornerstone of the band’s appeal. Novelty tracks aside, Was (Not Was) helped keep soul music alive in the ‘80s. If you’ve ever wanted to know more about those “Walk the Dinosaur” guys, here’s the perfect place to start learning. (Micro Werks 2010)

Was (Not Was) MySpace page

Corinne Bailey Rae: The Sea


RIYL: India.Arie, Des’ree, Roberta Flack

Corinne Bailey Rae’s self-titled debut was a Starbucks hit, selling nearly two million copies on the strength of the immediate chord it struck with fans of vaguely jazzy, vaguely folky pop singers like Norah Jones. It also took its share of lumps for being yet another in the chain of politely soulful albums that have flooded the marketplace over the last five years or so; though it showed flashes of real talent, VH1-ready singles like “Put Your Records On” put Rae across as pleasant at best.

Well, whatever else you might be able to say about it, Rae’s sophomore effort, The Sea, isn’t pleasant – like the body of water it’s named after, this is a collection of songs that might sometimes seem placid on the surface, but which boast unfathomable, often stormy depths. It’s an album steeped in grief, shadowed by death, and wrapped in yards of delicate, folk-and-jazz-tinged arrangements. Even on the album’s more up-tempo tracks, such as “Paper Dolls,” there’s an overwhelming sense of something – probably Rae – about to break. Even if you just play The Sea in the background, you’ll catch hints of its disquieting vibe.

Corinne_Bailey_Rae_01

All for good reason, of course – as you may recall, Rae’s husband died unexpectedly in 2008, and many of these songs find her coping – seemingly quite directly – with her loss. It’s always a mistake to treat albums like these as the artists’ personal diaries, but when the first track is titled “Are You Here” and features lines like “Are you here? Because my heart recalls that it all feels the same”…well, you get the idea.

So yes, The Sea is a rather dark and stormy record, but it’s never maudlin; partly on account of Rae’s vocals, which are lighter than air at their heaviest, the music’s grief never threatens to overwhelm the songs. That being said, a little overwhelming might not be such a bad thing – Rae’s aesthetic is one of slight shifts and slighter melodies, and if you’ve previously dismissed her work, it’s hard to hear much here that’ll change your mind. Perhaps more importantly, if you loved Corinne Bailey Rae, this album’s darker tone might be off-putting. Rae deserves applause for pouring so much of herself into these songs; still, even after you’ve plumbed its depths, it’s hard not to wish The Sea’s surfaces weren’t so calm. (Capitol Records 2010)

Corinne Bailey Rae MySpace page

Norah Jones: The Fall


RIYL Cassandra Wilson, Grace Potter, Patty Larkin

Advance word to the contrary, Norah Jones’ fourth album shows a marked change in approach but little difference in attitude. Stirring up the ambiance with synths, effects, beats and a general trend towards more modern programming tools, Jones lays out a steady series of laments about traitorous lovers and ruined relationships with a distinct emphasis on disillusionment in general. Titles like “Stuck,” “I Wouldn’t Need You” and “You’ve Ruined Me” offer an early hint of her malfunctioning mindset, but lines like “If I touched myself the way you touched me…then I wouldn’t need you,” speak directly to her disappointment. Conversely, the carnival-like atmosphere of “Chasing Pirates,” the practically jaunty “Tell Yer Mama” and the propulsive duo of “Young Blood” and “It’s Gonna Be” prove a welcome respite from the deathly serious tact that Jones helped trademark on her three earlier albums.

Norah edit 2

And while there’s still ample evidence of that wounded, torch song set-up imbued in “Manhattan,” “Even Though,” “I Wouldn’t Need You” and “Waiting,” even her more sobering perspectives seem somewhat more illuminated, given fuller arrangements that detract attention from her solitary keyboard and instead steer the proceedings towards the emphatic strum of her electric guitar. Ending the album on a lighter note that finds her offering an ode to her dog – the winsome “Man of the Hour” – shows that for her all her trepidation and turmoil, Jones has the capability of picking herself up, no matter how serious the fall. Blue Note 2009

Norah Jones MySpace page

Otis Redding: The Best: See & Hear


RIYL: Sam & Dave, Al Green, Solomon Burke

In an era when pretenders to the R&B throne spring up like swine flu in the local emergency room, it only takes a glance back at Otis Redding’s career to remind us that no one has ever managed to recapture his electrifying, unfettered energy and passion. Like Sam Cooke, James Brown, Aretha, the Four Tops, the Tempts, Wilson Pickett and Solomon Burke, Otis was one of a kind: a man who relied not on gimmicks or false sentiment, but a genuine, explosive talent that took every song to the precipice between triumph and tragedy. From the stage at Monterrey to ballrooms across the nation and venues around the world, Otis proved he was the ultimate interpreter of gritty, sweat-stoked, heart-wrenching soul, a man whose fiery appeal transcended race or nationality, rock or R&B.

As with many other incendiary talents, Redding’s career was an abbreviated one, cut short in a tragic plane crash in December 1967 — mere months after he electrified a mostly white Monterey audience that had also witnessed Hendrix, Joplin, the Byrds and the Springfield. Ironically, his biggest breakthrough, the moving “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay,” wouldn’t even pierce the charts until after his demise. Still, the classics he left behind in a relatively short period earned him a permanent presence in the lexicon of great contemporary singers — one who is yet to be bested, and likely never will.

Shout/Rhino’s new two-disc compilation — boasting a CD of greatest hits and a DVD of live performances captured the year before Redding’s death — provides a brief summary of the man’s brilliance; a mere introduction at best. The numbers forever identified with Redding make the cut: “Dock of the Bay,” of course, “Respect,” “Try a Little Tenderness,” “I’ve been Loving You Too Long” — the better-known songs that defined Otis’ magnetism and his ability to adroitly shift from finesse to frenzy. Watching him drive himself with such exhilaration and determination, as seen on the video performances of “Shake” and “Satisfaction” (each included twice on the DVD for good measure), verifies the emotion he exuded each time he took the stage.

A singer for the ages, Otis had a talent that was eternal. In the face of such greatness, “brilliance” is an adjective that doesn’t even begin to suffice. Pick up this package, and you’ll quickly understand why. (Shout! Factory 2009)

Shout Factory website

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