Decline and Fall

Country Got Soul is the second in a series of albums brought into being by Jeb Loy Nichols and released on Casual Records; the first (Country Got Soul v1) was a surprise, although deserved, hit last year, resulting in a fair amount of coverage for v2.

The formula’s simple enough: a sampler of the best of the nearly forgotten genre of blue-eyed soul and funk-infused country that emerged in the ’60s and ’70s, as Nashville-based session musicians began to combine the popular music of the American South with the soul and funk sounds they heard in the studio. As in most cases the recordings are now rather difficult to find, this is an extremely welcome compilation, which will increase the profile of several unfairly neglected artists: a number of reviews have already appeared, which while showing a worrying fixation with the hackneyed adjective ‘country-fried’ have been overwhelmingly positive.

So, the record. It starts well with Tony Joe White’s ‘High Sheriff of Calhoun Parish’, a darkly brilliant track combining the country convention of the narrative song with driving, bluesy steel-strung guitar. Moody strings hover in the background like mist over a Georgia swamp, as White escapes from the titular Sheriff ‘into the woods of Calhoun’. This is followed by Sandra Rhodes’ pleasant exercise in the tightly-orchestrated Memphis soul style, ‘Sowed Love and Reaped The Heartache’. Wayne Carsons is strongly reminiscent of Memphis-period Elvis, while cult figure Townes van Zant is as completely individual as ever.

Larry Jon Wilson’s ‘Ohoopee River Bottomland’ is one of the compilation’s high points: a unique country-funk crossover whose initial guitar accompaniment to Wilson’s sumptuous drawl is gradually augmented by some cooking (pardon me, cookin’) electric piano, drums, and a tight horn section. By the time the handclaps come in for the last verse, you know you’re in the presence of genius.

Not everything on the album achieves quite the same heights: in ‘Harlan County’, a track singled out for praise in several reviews, Jim Ford’s vocal stamina doesn’t quite match up to his considerable ambitions, and the flashy arrangement hasn’t dated so well. Donnie Fritts’ recent ‘Muscle Shoals’ seems a little plodding, and Eric Quincy Tate’s passable James Brown impersonation remains just that, though all these tracks are listenable enough. But when you listen to Bobbie Gentry’s outstanding track ‘Fancy’ - given the full Memphis strings-and-horns treatment familiar to most people from Dusty Springfield’s ‘Son of a Preacherman’, combined with the ethereal bluesiness Gentry displayed on the better-known ‘Ode to Billy Joe’ - you realise that this is an album whose overall quality is extremely high. Special mention has to go to the impassioned, criminally neglected singing of the late Eddie Hinton, whose ‘I Can’t Be Me’ is worthy of Otis Redding at the height of his powers.

In short, this is a superb compilation, which has already fulfilled its basic purpose of bringing these artists to the attention of musically fashionable circles. My one suggestion: listen before you buy, as the country element may be a little strong for some people’s tastes - this certainly isn’t the sly, ironic use of country motifs seen in Beck, or other artists favoured by the record buyers this album seems aimed at. But it’s musically none the worse for that; in any case, irony’s so last year. Get yourself some real soul food.