The cover of "Let it Be" from the 2007 film, Across the Universe, by Carol Woods & Timothy T. Mitchum breaks the world down. (The scene in the movie does the same with its allusions to the Vietnam War and the 1967 Detroit riot.) Its visceral fragility and catharsis literally — literally — sends chills down the spine. It just — damn, the words shouldn't get in the way. In all possible seriousness, stick with these, of wisdom: just let this song be.
(Photo: screenshot from the film's "Let it Be" scene)
“Really? A soul cover album of Beatles songs? The hell you thinking? That stuff is untouchable. Un-touch-a-ble. No.”
If Soulive didn’t have that conversation, they should smack someone. And if you agreed with that, get smacked — let 'em try.
“You still gonna? Well damn, good luck to you.”
The covers on the trio’s September release, Rubber Soulive — you’re fine with it now that you heard how perfectly the title works, right? No? Okay — have been licked Soulive smooth. They leave the songs’ brilliance in a new sonic sheen.
Alright — yes, sometimes they slobber.
But “Eleanor Rigby,” from Revolver. Mm mm mmm. The chorus. The chorus, the chorus, the chorus. The licking just feels right: it swells and breathes; it explores the regret in the song’s loneliness. Just close your eyes and let your chin swivel — and not to say, “No.”
The Beatles (album version):
Soulive (live):
I could’ve posted the album version — but their studio recordings always sound a little too shiny clean. And on that note: here’s download from archive.org of a taping of this year’s downright funky Sept. 11 show at the Wescott Theater in Syracuse, NY, which I attended. The “Eleanor Rigby” to “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” thing — mm mm mmm.
(Photo: Arthur Shim for Royal Family Records. Note the black suit, skinny-black-tie hat tip to The Beatles' original style.)
If a dude named Black Wolf is a lead singer, your sound better be some real ish. And if, on top of that, the band hails from the soul music capital of the world… Milwaukee, Wisconsin — alright, alright, but seriously: Black Wolf.
And it is some ish. Damn your feet if they don’t start shuffling and your hips if they don’t start shaking to Kings Go Forth’s sound. The 10-piece band (two lead singers, a backup, bass, guitar, drums, congas, trumpet, trombone) can downright get down and ’ll tug you along with them until you follow for yourself, running. So you might as well damn your feet if they can’t move quick, too.
The drums on the band’s April album from Luaka Bop, The Outsiders are Back, often edge the music to nearly breathless — like the break-beats might break down and trip you at anytime. The horns are tight, some spike for your behind. The congas’ tickling make you realize how much you miss them. And the bass bumps its thumping ass right up next to the drums in the rhythm section’s forefront — hello, hip-hop era.
The rhythm section pushes you forward, but it’s the singers’ melodies grasping your hand. When Wolf’s spine arcs to hit the high ones, his African garb creases, his dreadlocks rattle and his paintbrush mustache’s bristles shiver in that sort of way that shows he just felt something. (Your own spine might mimic.) Apparently, they’ve got some occasional pitch problems—so if you’ve got some sensitive ears, well, damn. But really singing cracks your voice; it’s that passion breaking through.
“One Day” and “Don’t Take My Shadow” have been the showcased cuts. But to give your feet and hips a head’s up, you could also check out “I Don’t Love You Know More.” And when taking a breath on “Paradise Lost,” listen for the Wolf’s “hey hey hey-e-yeah-yeah” to learn why he deserves his dope name.
[Quick post script: Milwaukee apparently produced some truly soulful records in the days; they just didn’t have the reach of the tracks from the soul capitals.]
On his upcoming album, Good Things, Aloe Blacc sounds just like his biography: a So-Cal hip-hop era man with some soul sense.
You can check out the work at NPR now — and all week — before it drops on the 28th. (The accompanying article does well enough with the full bio if you want; repeating it ’d just crowd the sound.)
Stones Throw is also doling out a download of “You Make Me Smile,” a track off the album, for free (right-click and then “Save Link As…”).
There seems to be a wide range of musical stylings on the album, but little range of the man’s supremely smooth voice. Check “Hey Brother” in the stream to see how relentlessly he sticks with the mid-range vocals.
Lee Fields never grew up after 1971. His slicked hair may have thinned and the bags beneath his eyes may have puckered, but that southern soul sound still rattles up from the toes in his well-shined shoes out through the vocal chords that haven’t stopped crooning since they started.
On a parallel planet, James Brown was called “Little L.F.” as a kid and is carrying the native North Carolinian’s legacy around on his suit shoulders. But in this world, the reverse is reality. And while the gods may not have blessed Fields with the Godfather’s life of fame and fortune, they’ve given many of us who didn’t grow up in the web of southern soul radio that excited jolt of finding something that has been unfairly hidden for too many years.
On Fields’ 2009 release from Truth and Soul Records, My World—his fifteenth album since his 1979 debut—he cries and croaks, purrs and pleads, mostly over love, including a cover of The Supremes’ “My World is Empty Without You.” His band, the Expressions, groove in a smooth melancholy, often channeling the gang who backed Curtis Mayfield on Superfly.
The record “Love Comes and Goes” off the album has been the song most of those who know of Fields play first for their friends. But try the cut “Ladies” instead. By the end of the track’s chorus, Fields is left almost breathless as he professes the powers of a sultry summertime woman. His rasp seems to strain into his stomach, like it won’t survive another word. But, luckily for us, it does and he has.
