It’s been quite a few years for soul music, which feels like it’s undergone quite the revival, with everyone from Mercury Music Prize winner Michael Kiwanuka to Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings to Raphael Saadiq to Nao to Cleo Sol, and very notably of late, Anderson .Paak, making music that can squarely be described as soul or neo-soul or retro soul or whatever the heck else you’d call it. And even on hipper projects like Sault, so beloved of us 4 on the podcast, you could make a strong argument that soul is right at the beating heart of its sound.
But it’s also a tricky genre to navigate – the history of soul music is so wide and so breathtakingly diverse, and its influence is so embedded in our musical culture, that it can be hard to find a space to make anything that genuinely feels new, and there is a lot of stuff out there that treads very heavily on existing formats. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but that old discussion that we’ve had on this blog/podcast many times rears its head once again – how can you best homage to the genre you’re working in, while moving music forwards?
I should say, for the record, that soul music has been one of the bedrocks of my musical taste since I was first leant an Aretha cassette by a friend in my teens. Like a lot of folk, I first gorged on Motown, Jackie Wilson & the 60s girl groups then headed into 70s soul territory via Stevie, Curtis, Marvin, Sly Stone and the rest, and by the time I was at Uni, I was getting into contemporary stuff like Mica Paris, Young Disciples and some of the acid jazz scene of the Brand New Heavies and Galliano era. I suspect my love of late 90s/early 00s R’n’B – and boy do I love that stuff – comes from the fact that it is a souped up, dance floor friendly take on soul music – which is arguably what RnB has always been! The vocals, the arrangements, it’s all in there, just with a hefty bass and drum kick.
Cut to the chase: I’m a sucker for soul music. But in the modern era, the more ‘traditional’ the soul revival sound, the less I’m personally that engaged with it. So I don’t mind a bit of Sharon Jones, but I preferred Raphael Saadiq when he’s got a bit more R’n’B in him and he’s not just sounding like a retro soul revivalist. Ditto, Kiwanuka got more interesting when he became more experimental and had the likes of Inflo on board pushing his sound into a more contemporary space.
I first came across Durand Jones via his band Durand Jones & The Indications via their big breakout single Witchoo, which I loved. However, at the time, when I dug into the rest of that album, Private Space, I found a band and a vocalist that felt a LITTLE too enamoured of Philly Soul and 70s soul disco vibes, and the exercise felt a bit too retro and stale for me to really connect with. In comparison to Anderson .Paak, for example, who seemed to be absolutely tearing the floor up at the same time with something steeped in those same influences, but felt so fresh!
Fast forward 2 years and I’m looking for an album to choose for this AOTM. I’m struggling – there is nothing that’s been recently released that grabs my attention. And then, while flicking through Metacritic, I see Durand Jones – but this time a solo album. And the reviews are INSANE. I stick it on, and from the very first track, and that gorgeous liquid string arrangement on beguiling opener Gerri Marie, I knew I was listening to something pretty special.
I’ve devoured a bunch of podcasts and interviews that the TINH brothers have shared (and that we’ll share with you in the links section!), and what first strikes you about Durand Jones, apart from his fierce intellect and strong personality, is how much this record means to him. This is him coming to terms with himself as a Queer black man from the Deep South – I think the first time he’s openly referenced that – in the astonishing confessional ballad, That Feeling (bloody WordPress won’t let the video embed in a working fashion, but go and check out the video on YouTube). It’s openly confessional, trying to make sense of his and his family’s life in Hilaryville, Louisiana, a town formed by former slaves given the land as part of most emancipation reparations – once ‘the place you’d most like to live’ according to his grandma, but now decimated by drugs and poverty.
First thing to say is that this album is constructed in classic album format – a sprightly, tight 41 minutes, moving opener leading to chugging banger Lord Have Mercy. The entire set is a homage to the entire breadth of soul music, with so many highlights that you could name any track as one. Sadie is a slice of plaintive doo-wop; Wait Till I Get Over a straight-down-the-line gospel track that suddenly drifts off into an ambient finale; See It Through a catchy AF soul jam that will surely be another single:
The closing tracks of the album are particularly strong. Someday We’ll All Be Free is a Stevie-esque ballad that mix political and emotional yearnings that surprisingly bursts into a rap in in the middle of the song – it’s a real album highlight. Letter to My 17 Year Old Self is a rather leftfield ballad, full of musical experimentation, that reminded me of Parade-era Prince. Like earlier slow jam I Want You, it wants to play with the form as well as celebrate. Finally, we end with the gorgeous, mournful Secrets, before the set ends and we just hear the sound of water, presumably the Mississippi river. Are the secrets being washed away? Or is Durand being reborn in the river? Either way, the sound of tides lap against the listener until it fades out.
This album has got under my skin like no other this year, save for Young Fathers, and like them, it’s a personal real AOTY contender, and certainly a top 10 shoo-in. So why does it work so well? I think the fact that band recorded so much as live in the studio gives it the most ridiculous energy. It’s like you’re listening to a live performance. Despite that, it somehow never feels like an exercise in retro-soul. I think that comes down to the breadth and skill of the songwriting, as well as at the very modern persona and emotions of the record’s protagonist, Durand J. He drags every inch of emotion out of every song like a force of will! Finally, the arrangements are deft and smart throughout – in particular the use of crunchy, heavy rock guitar is a genius move, and works against it sounding neatly soul-like. Listen to it muscle its way in at the end of Lord Have Mercy, for example, and it adds such a punchy layer that takes the sounds somewhere new. The whole thing is an exercise in how you make a soul record in 2023 that feels vital and relevant. Durand, we waited, and you sure as hell got over!
thisisnothappening.net 
Nice write up as always David. Also, interesting, as I agree with most of the things you write while at the same time having a very different holistic experience. For the sake of time time-efficiency and clarity I am going to switch to my trademark bullet points;
– This dude can sing. WOW! This dude can sing. Durand’s voice is the principle instrument of this album. It’s incredible that he came to singing relatively late in life.
– The way he uses his voice seems in diametric opposition to his classical musical training, though, its all heart, it feels so organic and ‘natural’ (as opposed to the clinical perfection associated with ‘classical music’.
– This is perhaps an odd observation (so hold on tight), he uses his voice like a saxophonist use their instrument. It’s a full blown, on the edge, wind-instrument. Wow.
– Stand out tracks for me …. Lord Have Mercy, Sadie and I Want You
– However, those 3 tracks are found next to each other in the first half of the album
– I agree with every single comment that David has made about every single track. I believe every word, I feel every note. (Can you feel a but coming?).
– I don’t think I feel the album (as a whole) like I feel each track individually. There is something lacking for me when they are presented as a whole.
– I think it’s the sequencing and flow of energy through the album
– Gerri Marie feels like an album opener … until you get to track 2, the opening interlude, then Gerri Marie feels like a false start and it suddenly feels isolated at the start. Like a bonus track tagged on to the beginning !?!
– In interviews Durand talks about the album being a narrative from 1800’s to now. If this is the case, then how is Track 2 ‘The place you’d most want to live’ not the opener. It sets the scene. I love it. I hate interludes, but I love this. I REALLY feel it but … the album would be TOTALLY different if it was track 1 or not there at all … but it does need to be there!
– I can’t work out if the energy flows in 3 thirds of the album or 2 halves?
– The opening 5 tracks are a stunning opening (sequencing aside?)
– I love ‘wait till I get over’ but does it close out the first half or start the 2nd third … (sorry I know this sounds really picky but)
– What I am exploring here is that I very rarely listen to this as a whole album.
– There is something that interrupts my experience. It’s not a long album, so it isn’t getting bored. I don’t dislike any tracks so it isn’t that. I think I actually love every track. So it must be the way that it hangs together.
– I think there’s a really interesting conversation about Soul, homage and pushing the genre forward
– Someday We’ll All Be Free is cited as the example of pushing forward in most reviews … this feels odd as this is a cover that is very faithful to the original, apart from it including a rap that I am not convinced is 100% successful.
– For me this is much more about respecting the traditional conventions of Soul, presenting them VERY well. But there is very little if anything here that pushes anything forward
– This is fine, not everything can or should push genres forward but the problem is, does the album therefore make you want to reach for it over and above your favourite soul album? The answer for me is partly.
That’s a bit of a scattergun of thoughts and ramblings. But thats where I am. Awesome artist. Amazing voice. Super strong collection of individual tracks that for me don’t hang together as well as they should do.
Really interesting point about sequencing, Joey. I think you make a good point, maybe he should have opened with The Place You’d Most Like to Live. BUT I LOVE Gerri Marie as an opener musically. Those strings. That yearning melody! Anyway, lots to chew on!
Agree. I love Gerri Marie as an opener too. When it first plays you think ‘wow, what a great way to open an album’ … then you get the alternative opener straight afterwards.
Not sure if you caught it in all of the interviews but there was only a quartet recorded for the string parts! The depth and scale of the strings is all in production. Kind of disappointing but kind of impressive too! On the same tip, all the vocals for Wait Till I Get Over were recorded in his bedroom!
Perhaps The Place… Could close out ‘side A’ unless it’s really about being truly chronological. I think Gerri is so 60s it hurts.
Well, isn’t this what’s great about this blog/pod over the years? That you get recommended stuff you’ve never heard of and it gets its claws in big time.
I’m with you – but perhaps not as amorously as you brother David – that soul was one of my first loves (and why I think we often align most closely out of the four of us). It came via my mum’s vinyl collection, crossing from the Motown classics of Otis and Carla, the Four Tops, Aretha, and Curtis, then through my own explorations of bands like The Commodores, Marvin Gaye, Sly Stone, and Bill Withers, and was – pop and The Beatles aside – one of my first loves until I got into my odd teenage years of chart music, indie, wierd 60s stuff, Hair Metal, and various things I’m not fully down with any more!
But I’d never heard of Durand Jones before, solo or band, so really wasn’t sure what would land but my oh my, it’s something special. So many things are memorable and intoxicating:
– the VOICE. That just flows like molasses, rasps and softens and just hits everything in the right way at the right time.
– the encompassing of ‘soul music’ in all its forms, from modern to gospel and hymns (Wait Till I Get Over), slow heartfelt ballads (That Feeling), rollicking, joyous 60s feels (See It Through, Lord Have Mercy), but….
– while there’s touchstones and ‘energy of’ in so many ways, it sounds so FRESH and vital. From first listen.
– also (hi Joey) ORGANS
– DRUMS (he’s a drummer and so while it’s subtle the drumming is fantastic).
– spoken word, both tracks with such power and emotion. It really can sounds trite but really doesn’t here.
– the sequencing is also really good. I could think of a couple of different ways to order tracks but the ending is perfect, with the album floating off into the Mississippi.
It really does fly through, being the perfect 40-ish minutes and while there’s tracks of differing length, nothing really feels overdone. It’s so well produced and constructed but feels like it was done so breezily.
So let’s talk about the good stuff, even acknowledging it’s really strong throughout.
The opening of Gerri Marie is sensational. Huge Beatles energy, Abbey Road vibes and I could just hear Paul singing lyrics to this. But then… My god, here’s Durand. I never fails to knock me over when I hear it roll in.
The Place Where…. Is so poignant, and then listening to interviews, you realise the sadness there is around it, from it’s formation to it’s present day. It’s something really powerful. The same with See It Through, for very different reasons.
Because throughout the album, the great songs have so much extra weight from Jones’ own tale. Lord Have Mercy, surely addressing his sexuality, as That Feeling is beautiful in all its truth for his first love song for another man. His voice soars, as if there’s a weight off him in writing it.
And my god, Someday We’ll All Be Free, starts so faithfully to the Donny Hathaway record then drops into this Roots-like hip-hop flow that feels very Black Thought, bringing it into the Black Lives Matter era with such powerful words.
It manages to rise and fall so effortlessly been slow and fast, joyous and heavy, light and dark. It’s really such a rewarding record to listen to. If I had one mild concern is that in being so accessible, will it stay the course? But really it’s a joy to have in my life so far.
Oh bloody hell, how could I have missed out Wait Till I Get Over…. It’s power and the sorcery of recording it all with his own voice, at different places in the room so it’s like a whole choir. Wtf.