Let me begin by telling you, dear reader, I am thrilled to have someone(anyone?) listen to what I might say about any anything in this wild world we travel together. So heartfelt appreciation is going out to you all. The young, the old, the angst riddled, the spectrum dwelling masses yearning to to break free! All of you. I aim to be kind, I am to rewind, I aim to return my library books, and more than anything babies, my aim is true. Kick out the jams mother fucker!
Throwback sound. Daptone Records has cornered a semi-religious market as far as that “Throwback” sound is concerned. The Dap-Kings awe inspiring back up to Amy Winehouse on her titanic album Back in Black, I’m hoping the reference isn’t list on you dear reader, started my own love affair with the Brooklyn based record label, funked out soul factory, Godsend to my ever ready ears. With Sharon Jones throwing down soul so infectious the antibiotics are useless. The Sugarman 3 bringing this writer and his trusty SOL Republic Tracks HD on ear Headphones(shameless,I know) to a soul splitting nirvana of body and spirit and now without warning….. Granted , dear reader, I do live in a proverbial black hole of soul/funk/anything with any sort of black music influence, the great state of New Hampshire. This damn state refuses to even acknowledge MLK’s Birthday as a National Holiday instead choosing to refer to it as Civil Rights Day until 1991….. However I digress.
Fuck! Where was I?
I know exactly where I was, where I am, where I’m going.
Charles Bradley. That’s right Charles Bradley.
Born in 1948. Abandoned by his mother to his grandmothers care at birth and reclaimed by her eight years later and relocated from Gainesville FLA to Brooklyn NY. He ran away from the squalor he was raised within at fourteen, worked as a cook in Bar Harbor, hitchhiked cross country, finally settling in CA in 1977. It was there that Mr Bradley started to hone is immeasurable craft over the course of 20 some odd years. Club gigs, a couple of weddings, and a few random frat parties where students would beg for his rendition of the great Otis Day’s version of Shout.
Charles’ mother called in 1997, she called to ask him to move back to Brooklyn. To give them a chance to reconnect, a chance for mother and son to have a relationship. Thus began the journey to Charles Bradley’s brilliant new album Changes.
Truth be told, dear readers, I had not heard this man soulful, bittersweet vocals before today 03/26/16. If I could beat my own ass right now I would.