This week In Soul Artists 03/52

1 . Etta James . Midnight Hour (w/ BB King . Stevie Ray Vaughan)

Sometimes, music transcends the realm of artistry and becomes a moment of historical significance. Such is the case with the remarkable collaboration between Etta James, B.B. King, and Stevie Ray Vaughan on a stunning rendition of “In the Midnight Hour.”

The song, originally a soul masterpiece penned by Wilson Pickett and Steve Cropper in 1965, is a hallmark of Memphis’ storied tradition. Recorded at the iconic Stax Studios, it surged to the top of the R&B charts and became a defining anthem of the era with its raw energy and Pickett’s electrifying performance.

In this extraordinary live performance, the combined brilliance of these three legends transforms the classic into something entirely unique. Etta James’ fiery, emotionally charged vocals soar with unmatched intensity, blending seamlessly with Stevie Ray Vaughan’s blistering Stratocaster riffs and B.B. King’s signature smooth, articulate guitar work. Together, they create a powerful reinterpretation that merges soul, blues, and sheer virtuosity.

Lifted from : We Remember Etta James. ‘Etta Lasts’

2 . Wilson Pickett . Mustang Sally

Few tracks command the same head-turning energy as Wilson Pickett’s rendition of “Mustang Sally.”

The song’s origins trace back to Mack Rice, who first penned and recorded it in 1965, originally titling it “Mustang Mama” before a suggestion by Aretha Franklin shifted the steering wheel to its now-iconic moniker.

Pickett, always a bastion of gritty vocal intensity, took what was initially a mere R&B flirtation and turned it into a sharp-edged, full-throttle anthem.

The tale of a woman with an eye for Mustangs and the freedom they symbolize has a surprisingly mundane yet relatable core, its repetition of themes hammered home by an irresistible groove.

Recorded in 1966 for “The Wicked Pickett” album, it captures an era in sound: brassy, unapologetic, and sweat-soaked.

The misstep during the recording process, where a damaged tape threatened disaster, could have hamstrung the effort, but engineer Tom Dowd pieced it together like the unsung savior of the session.

At its peak, the song elbowed its way to #23 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #6 on R&B charts, carving its legacy like a speeding car handling tight corners.

Accentuated by Pickett’s growling delivery, the track oozes the kind of smoldering charisma no studio polish could dilute.

Its resurgence in popularity post-1991 owes much to its prominent inclusion in the cult-classic film *The Commitments,* bolstered further by live renditions featuring a cross-genre who’s-who ensemble at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony.

Yet “Mustang Sally” doesn’t rest purely on nostalgia or cinematic associations; it thrives as a live favorite precisely because it feels communal, its call-and-response lending itself to sweaty bar gigs and festivals alike.

While undeniably catchy, some would say its relentless refrain threatens monotony, though others might argue that very quality cements it as a jukebox essential.

Love it or not, the track embodies a moment of pop grit incapable of keeping its cool, much like the purring Ford Mustang it celebrates.

Lifted from : We Remember Wilson Pickett. ‘We Need The Wicked Pickett’

3 . Parliament Funkadelic . Do That Stuff

“Do That Stuff” rockets out of Parliament’s eccentric 1976 release, “The Clones of Dr. Funkenstein,” with a swagger that’s equal parts theatrical bombast and sly irreverence.

The track flourishes within the group’s signature blend of funk, psychedelia, and flamboyant humor that defined their mid-‘70s output.

George Clinton’s visionary touch is on full display, marshalling the Parliament-Funkadelic collective into an absurdist groove machine that’s as much about attitude as it is about music.

The song’s pulsating basslines and sprawling, otherworldly synth textures warp it into the kind of sonic oddity only Clinton could orchestrate.

Lyrically, the track toes the line between absurdity and mischief, reveling in its own unabashed silliness while inviting listeners to shed inhibitions and get weird.

It’s hard to ignore the theatrical backdrop that birthed the song—this was peak P-Funk, a time when Clinton’s narratives of afrofuturistic mythology vaulted funk toward uncharted territory.

“Do That Stuff” may not have burned up the charts like other Parliament staples, but its eccentric spirit thrives on its cult-like legacy among P-Funk devotees.

Performed live during the opulent P-Funk Earth Tour, the track became a cog in a larger spectacle, complete with the legendary Mothership stage show, further cementing its quirky place within the Parliament canon.

For all its extravagance, the track remains an emblem of the unfiltered creativity that kept Parliament hurtling light-years ahead of their contemporaries.

Lifted from : Parliament record . live double album . ‘Live: P-Funk Earth Tour’ at the Oakland Coliseum (1977)

4 . Jackie Wilson . That’s Why (I Love You So)

Jackie Wilson’s *”That’s Why (I Love You So)”* brims with irresistible rhythm and tightly crafted charm. Released in 1959, this track captures a moment where R&B wasn’t just music but a movement—a cultural pulse. Berry Gordy Jr. and Tyran Carlo’s songwriting weaves through swinging beats, while Dick Jacobs’s arrangement ensures every note lands with precision.

The song lifts itself above standard fare by showcasing Wilson’s electrifying vocals, delivered with the kind of effortless charisma that feels like he’s singing directly to you. His falsettos are equal parts flourish and flex, making it clear this isn’t just another jukebox crooner—it’s a master at work. Balanced between mid-tempo groove and heartfelt emotion, it caters to both the hips and the heart.

The chart numbers are proof, peaking impressively at #2 on the R&B charts and securing a respectable spot in the pop top 20. It’s joyful yet sophisticated, never tipping too far into saccharine territory. Though its commercial success cemented Wilson as a force in the late ’50s music scene, the true magic lies in its timelessness; the track remains a nod to the era while still sparkling decades later. For anyone skeptical of how seamlessly Wilson could merge vocal gymnastics with genuine sentiment, this serves as Exhibit A.

Its staying power is further reinforced by the breadth of artists who’ve covered it, from gritty blues reinterpretations to Motown-esque adaptations. They reflect the song’s elasticity as much as its intrinsic quality. And of course, Jackie’s live performance for *The Ed Sullivan Show* in 1962 only deepened its legacy, now enshrined as a moment of televised excellence on retro compilation DVDs.

If there’s a quibble to be found, it’s that the track, like much of that period’s R&B, feels tightly reined in by its runtime—barely over 2 minutes. Imagine what Wilson might’ve done with today’s room for sprawling outros or multi-layered arrangements. Still, this track is a polished gem from music’s transformative years. With Wilson at its helm, it’s a reminder of why R&B’s golden era wielded such cultural heft.

Lifted from : On TV today . Jackie Wilson with Ed Sullivan (1962)

5 . Aretha Franklin . Call Me

Released in 1970, “Call Me” finds Aretha Franklin spinning a single line from a passing conversation into a lush, yearning anthem of connection.

The track, featured on her album *This Girl’s in Love with You*, draws its emotional weight from Franklin’s unmistakable voice and her own contributions on piano, anchored by the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section’s trademark tightness.

The inspiration—a snippet overheard from a couple parting on Park Avenue—might read mundane, yet Franklin elevates the exchange into a poignant meditation on intimacy, longing, and the spaces between human connections.

The production lineup of Jerry Wexler, Tom Dowd, and Arif Mardin ensures a polished but earthy feel, balancing orchestral drama with a rawness befitting Franklin’s emotional delivery.

Background vocals, provided by Brenda Bryant, Cissy Houston, and Pat Lewis, amplify the song’s aching, pleading edge, while the Muscle Shoals ensemble delivers their craft with understated precision.

The track dominated the US charts, solidifying its status by topping the Billboard Hot Soul Singles for two weeks and peaking at number 13 on the Hot 100.

Its ability to resonate extended far beyond its time, inviting covers from Diana Ross and Phil Perry, the latter achieving significant success on the R&B charts.

Later, it permeates hip-hop and R&B’s lexicon, sampled in Kanye West-produced tracks and revisited by numerous artists as a testament to Franklin’s enduring relevance.

“Call Me” may begin with simplicity, but it’s cloaked in layers of sophistication, bridging the personal and the universal with effortless grace.

Lifted from : Atlantic publish Aretha Franklin’s sixteenth album . ‘This Girl’s In Love With You’ (1970) http://go.radiovideo.music/6hh

6 . Mavis Staples . I’ll Take You There

Released in 1972, “I’ll Take You There” by Mavis Staples and the Staple Singers strides into its own groove, effortlessly straddling genres while keeping its feet firmly rooted in gospel traditions.

The track opens with a bassline lifted straight from “The Liquidator,” a reggae instrumental, but quickly pivots into a call-and-response structure that intertwines family-band intimacy with a Muscle Shoals sheen.

Written by Alvertis Isbell (aka Al Bell), the song is less a sermon than an invitation—its message of spiritual transcendence breezy yet bold, nestled somewhere between moral clarity and a casual promise of escape.

The layers of this track border on audacious: the choir-like backup vocals align seamlessly with Mavis’ smoky assertiveness, creating a sound that flirts with simplicity without ever succumbing to it.

Recorded on Stax Records, the track swiftly shot to the top of the *Billboard* Hot 100, notching its way into American consciousness and claiming a status more enduring than its fleeting chart life would suggest.

But let’s not give all the credit to cultural milestones; the real power lies in the emotional architecture—whether or not it “took you there,” it certainly made sure you were listening.

Decades later, its resonance continues, championed in live performances and star-studded tributes like the 2014 Chicago Auditorium Theatre concert featuring Joan Osborne and Emmylou Harris.

Magnetic yet unpretentious, the effortlessness of “I’ll Take You There” belies the intricate machinery underneath—a perfect contradiction for a track that lingers as both an anthem and an invitation you can’t refuse.

Lifted from : Mavis Staples goes to California (2015)

7 . Whitney Houston . I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)

Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)” arrives with all the dopamine-charged exuberance one might expect from an ’80s pop anthem set to conquer airwaves and wedding dance floors alike.

Its infectiousness lies not just in the hook-laden chorus but in how Houston navigates the track’s energetic demands with the precision of a virtuoso yet the enthusiasm of someone genuinely yearning for connection amidst a sea of glitterball euphoria.

Despite its polished veneer, the production’s foundation—a Roland TR-808 drum machine—imbues the song with a synthetic heartbeat that was quintessential of its era, offering a rhythmic throughline to its kaleidoscopic layers of synth and bass lines.

The lyrics, written by George Merrill and Shannon Rubicam, marry buoyant pop energy with an undercurrent of emotional vulnerability, nodding to the tension between superficial celebration and the deeper ache of loneliness.

Producer Narada Michael Walden’s initial reluctance—reportedly due to the song’s early country twang—feels ironic in hindsight, as the final result is irresistibly danceable, a near-perfect cocktail of funk, pop, and ‘80s glitz.

The music video, directed by Brian Grant, leans unapologetically into visual maximalism, with bold costumes and choreographed sequences that reflect the track’s upbeat tempo while presenting Houston as an exuberant star radiating joy, charisma, and enormous hair.

Its accolades—Grammy-winning, multi-platinum certified, and chart-topping across 18 countries—speak to its omnipresence and enduring appeal, though perhaps its true legacy lives in its uncanny ability to fill dance floors and conjure spontaneous singalongs, no matter the decade.

“I Wanna Dance with Somebody” encapsulates the moment when pop music leaned all the way into its own artifice, only to transcend it through sheer artistry and Houston’s untouchable vocal delivery.

Like much of her work, it occupies a fascinating tension: high-energy yet emotionally sincere, universal yet delivered by someone whose voice made the specific feel transcendent.

Lifted from : Whitney Houston travels to Brazil (1994)

8 . Incognito . Fame

Incognito by Celine Dion is a glittering snapshot of late ’80s Quebec pop, showcasing Dion’s dramatic range and flair for theatricality.

Released in 1987 as part of her album of the same name, the track carries the unmistakable footprint of lyricist Luc Plamondon and producer Jean Roussel, whose combined efforts sculpted a chart-topping powerhouse.

The song’s six-week reign at number one in Quebec was not a fluke—it’s a slick production steeped in melodrama, anchored by skillful vocal acrobatics and an air of mystique hinted at in its title.

The accompanying music video, a product of director Jacques Payette’s vision, amplifies this aesthetic, delivering a glossy visual tied to Dion’s televised “Incognito” special.

On the other side of the Atlantic, the French B-side “D’abord, c’est quoi l’amour” captures a different shade of relatable yearning, offering a complementary texture for listeners overseas.

“Fame” by Irene Cara, on the other hand, was engineered to be a generational anthem and succeeds—with unapologetic ambition wrapped in pounding piano chords and Cara’s electrifying vocal swagger.

Released alongside the 1980 film of the same name, it encapsulates a hunger-for-the-spotlight narrative, propelled to cultural significance by its Oscar and Golden Globe accolades.

Far from a deep cut, it achieved a pop resurrection two years later, fueled by the TV series’ ascent, where it doubled as both a nostalgic emblem and a rallying cry for dreamers-in-waiting.

Meanwhile, the jazz-funk instrumental from British outfit Incognito offers an entirely different wavelength, stripping away lyrical storytelling to amplify rhythm and groove.

Featured on their 1981 album “Jazz Funk,” the track exudes a meticulous layering of brass, basslines, and keyboards, flirting with complexity but never veering into pretension.

It’s both a time capsule for its genre and a stage-setter for a group that would go on to become a touchstone of UK acid jazz in the decades to follow.

Each of these tracks carves out its respective identity—Dion’s polished theatrics, Cara’s ascendant intensity, and Incognito’s instrumental finesse—all reflecting diverse facets of their eras and origins, yet unified by a palpable commitment to craft.

Lifted from : Incognito funkify London Jazz Café (2016)

9 . Erykah Badu & The Roots . You Got Me

The Roots’ “You Got Me” feels less like a song and more like a conversation held in dim light, full of hesitations and interrupted sighs.

Erykah Badu’s honeyed voice anchors the chorus with a soothing monotony, offering unconditional reassurance, while Eve’s verse injects urgency, a sharp counterpoint to the track’s languid groove.

Musically, it’s a delicate weave of neo-soul and hip-hop, where Scott Storch’s moody keys ripple over a steady beat that feels like it’s pacing back and forth, undecided.

The lyrics tell a story of love strained by the distance and distractions of modern life, spinning cautionary tales with understated grace rather than drama.

It’s worth noting the irony of Jill Scott’s original vocals being swapped out for Badu’s at the behest of record executives; Scott’s contributions remain in the song’s DNA, even if her voice doesn’t.

Directed by Charles Stone III, the music video leans into surrealism, with fleeting cameos by Tracy Morgan and Common adding texture but not clarity.

The Grammy nod it received in 2000 wasn’t just industry validation but also a quiet acknowledgment of its seamless genre-blending—something The Roots excel at but rarely advertise loudly.

Like much of The Roots’ catalog, “You Got Me” exists as both a time capsule of late ’90s neo-soul and a reminder of love’s perpetual fragility, its questions lingering long after the beat fades out.

Lifted from : The Roots At Their Best

10 . Temptations . A Song For You

The Temptations’ take on “A Song For You,” pulled from their 1975 album of the same name, is an exercise in reinvention, where slick harmonies meet funk-tinged instrumentation with just enough polish to cater to shifting tastes of the era.

This rendition doesn’t seek to outdo Leon Russell’s original but instead reclines in its own groove—a deft mix of plaintive tenderness and swaggering confidence, adorned with layers of brass and rhythm that breathe new life into its melancholy core.

The album itself, an eclectic mix of soul’s genetic strains, finds its standout moments not just in the titular track but in the vibrant “Happy People,” a celebration coated in optimism and nodding heavily toward disco sensibilities.

“Shakey Ground,” on the other hand, is a funk-fueled stomp that unapologetically flaunts its sonic grit, a product of Eddie Hazel’s unmistakable touch and Motown’s willingness to let loose.

Commercially, “A Song For You” hit a sweet spot, gliding comfortably onto the R&B charts while securing a Gold certification, giving The Temptations a graceful, if not groundbreaking, pivot into mid-’70s trends.

Yet for all its successes, there’s a lingering contradiction—the record’s kaleidoscopic influences, while daring for Motown, sometimes feel like an overreaching bid to stay relevant rather than a cohesive artistic statement.

In their version of “A Song For You,” though, there’s an earnest tenderness that bridges the gap between innovation and nostalgia, a reminder that The Temptations’ true strength lies in their ability to make the emotional feel universal without overreaching for reinvention.

Lifted from : Gordy publish The Temptations’ album . ‘A Song for You’ featuring ‘Happy People’ and ‘Shakey Ground’ (1975)

11 . Corinne Bailey Rae . Closer

“Closer” by Corinne Bailey Rae offers an intimate moment suspended in a hazy blend of soul and jazzy undertones, drawing the listener into its suggestive charm.

The luxurious composition sees Rae’s honeyed vocals glide over a backdrop of lush instrumentals, effortlessly intertwining a sultry bassline with flutters of horns and understated piano accents.

The recurring refrain, “I want it, I want it,” emerges as both a plea and a declaration, channeling themes of longing and vulnerability with a deceptive simplicity that lingers.

Live renditions, such as the “Live From Soho” performance, strip back some of the studio polish, revealing a rawer, more spontaneous energy delivered through Rae’s emotive connection with her band.

The accompanying music video veers toward the metaphorical, juxtaposing imagery of struggle with glimpses of catharsis as masked dancers cast off their burdens, an interpretation seemingly at odds with the song’s more intimate lyrical focus.

As part of her 2010 album, “The Sea,” the track captures a moment of quiet intensity within a collection often defined by grief and renewal, offering a fleeting escape from weightier themes.

Though not one to shout for attention, “Closer” excels in its restraint, leaving just enough unsaid to keep its allure intact—a subtle triumph within a quietly impactful album.

Lifted from : EMI publish Corinne Bailey Rae’s second album . ‘The Sea’ (2010)

12 . Sade . Paradise

Released in 1988 on the album “Stronger Than Pride,” “Paradise” delivers a laid-back groove that feels effortlessly cool, much like Sade herself.

The song’s sophisti-pop veneer is paired with a distinct R&B undertone, striking a balance between smooth sophistication and rhythmic vitality.

Sade Adu’s vocals glide through the track with an air of nonchalance, as if she’s unconcerned with overt displays of emotion, yet still manages to emote a yearning tranquility.

The instrumentation leans on sparse elegance—light percussions, understated basslines, and rhythm guitar work that flirts with funk but never fully commits.

The track’s celebration of euphoria feels oddly restrained, but perhaps that’s its charm; it doesn’t pander with grand theatrics, and instead, it’s content to linger in its mellow confidence.

It’s worth mentioning that the music video, set in a Mexican village, is almost stubbornly low-key despite the upbeat subject matter, a disconnect that somehow works to enhance the track’s understated appeal.

Sade’s influence can hardly be overlooked, even decades later, as evidenced by Alex Isley and Terrace Martin’s 2023 cover—a version that wisely preserves much of the original’s calm allure while layering in modern textures.

As effortlessly chic as it sounds, the success of “Paradise,” including its fleeting Billboard Hot R&B/Hip-Hop chart-topping moment, reveals a curious anomaly: its crossover appeal remains limited by its own refusal to cater to more commercial sensibilities.

That refusal, though, is part of what gives this track its enduring charm—it invites listeners to join its mellow celebration, instead of begging for their attention.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Sade Adu. ‘Much Adu About Love Thing’