This week In Soul Artists 05/52
Luther Vandross, Maurice White, Prince, Trey Songz, Al Green, Bettye Lavette, Ike and Tina Turner, Destiny’s Child, Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, The Temptations, Fugees
. They are the Soul Artists selected among the 355 Posts we publish this week.
Here, they are reunited in one glorious playlist. Enjoy!
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Tracklist
![]() 1 . Luther Vandross . Impossible DreamLuther Vandross’s rendition of “The Impossible Dream” unfolds as an audacious display of vocal control and emotional intelligence, proving that he can mine unexpected depths from even the most well-worn standards. Originating from *Man of La Mancha*, the song’s narrative of idealism and perseverance finds a natural home in Vandross’s towering vocal presence. This is not a mere demonstration of range but an exercise in precision, as he makes each soaring note feel heartfelt rather than theatrical. His 1998 performance at the Music For Life Concert adds an interesting twist—Richard Marx on guitar may seem an odd pairing at first, but the blend of soft strings and Vandross’s velvety texture lends the performance a certain stripped-down intimacy. It’s an interpretation that doesn’t rely on bombastic arrangements but instead leans on a kind of vulnerability, perhaps reflective of Vandross’s ability to personalize a lyric. Then there’s his Royal Albert Hall recording, a masterclass in live performance that showcases his knack for marrying technical mastery with emotional delivery. The grand setting might tempt another vocalist toward melodrama, but Vandross navigates the material with elegance, letting the natural weight of the lyrics and score speak for themselves. It’s an exercise in restraint, proving that subtlety can sometimes have a more profound impact than vocal aerobics. What makes these performances resonate is a kind of duality—Vandross operates within the confines of the classic Broadway mold while simultaneously bending it ever so slightly toward the sensibilities of R&B. This tension between the traditional and the modern breathes new life into a song that could, in lesser hands, feel like stale motivational cliché. What’s absent in these performances is any sense of artifice; it’s not about trying to out-sing or overpower the material. Instead, Vandross’s approach is transformative, inviting timelessness to coexist with a deeply personal interpretation. It’s not about making a grand statement—just proof of why he remains one of the most subtle yet technically gifted interpreters of the modern era. ![]() Mariah, Lionel, Brandy et al at ‘American Music Awards’ (1996) |
![]() 2 . Maurice White . After The Love Has Gone“After the Love Has Gone” by Earth, Wind & Fire, tethered to the golden touch of Maurice White, emerges as a silky lament from the disco-soaked vaults of 1979. Crafted by David Foster, Jay Graydon, and Bill Champlin, the track straddles the line between schmaltzy balladry and cerebral jazz-pop sophistication, packaging intricate harmonies within an unabashedly slick production. Charting at an impressive #2 on both the Billboard Hot 100 and R&B charts, the song feels engineered for maximum adult contemporary appeal without losing the band’s lustrous sheen. The pastel melodies veil a complex chord progression, noted by jazzheads like Pat Metheny as a high-water mark of harmonic ambition smuggling itself onto Top 40 airwaves. Lyrically, it dabbles in post-breakup melancholy, a kind of glossy resignation that feels at once introspective and radio-friendly, though it risks veering into maudlin territory. Its multiple Grammy wins—including Best R&B Song—validate its technical merits but may oversell its emotional depth to those less enchanted with its polish. Live performances help unearth a smidge more grit in the tune, with the band’s muscular delivery injecting hints of rawness absent from the pristine studio version. A fixture in pop-cultural niches (think an episode cameo on “WKRP in Cincinnati”), the song still divides; it can either ignite nostalgia or prompt a reflexive skip depending on the listener’s threshold for the era’s sonic gloss. In hindsight, “After the Love Has Gone” functions less as a soulful confessional and more as a zeitgeist artifact, wrapped neatly in late ’70s studio perfectionism. ![]() |
![]() 3 . Prince . Do Me, BabyReleased in 1981 as part of Prince’s “Controversy” album, “Do Me, Baby” stands out as an unapologetic ballad steeped in sensuality. Though officially credited to Prince, André Cymone, Prince’s former bassist, has long asserted his hand in its creation, linking the song to earlier sessions that birthed tracks like “If You Feel Like Dancin’.” Recorded at Sunset Sound, this track showcases Prince’s mastery over almost every instrument used, from the Yamaha CP-70 electric grand piano to the Oberheim OB-X. Its narrative arc unfolds slowly, layering Prince’s vocal theatrics over the kind of lush instrumental arrangement that feels both intimate and provocative. The composition became a cornerstone of Prince’s live performances, with its theatrical pinnacle often involving Prince partially disrobing onstage, adding a layer of visual seduction to the song’s already daring content. Despite being released as a single in 1982 with “Private Joy” on its B-side, it didn’t make a significant commercial impact on the Billboard charts but has nonetheless cemented itself as a cult classic among fans. Its legacy deepened after being covered by Meli’sa Morgan in 1986, whose rendition soared to the top of the US Hot Black Singles chart, lending the song broader R&B appeal. Even now, the track continues to embody Prince’s knack for balancing explicit intimacy with heartfelt artistry, defining a bold era of his career. ![]() |
![]() 4 . Trey Songz . FumbleTrey Songz’s “Fumble” pulls listeners into a narrative drenched in regret, expertly balancing vulnerability with raw emotion. Released as part of his fifth studio album, *Chapter V*, the song strips away the bravado often associated with Trey, revealing a man confronting the aftermath of carelessness in love. The track leans heavily on a reflective tone, with Trey lamenting the act of mishandling the devotion of someone who would “go to the end of the world” for him—a sentiment that feels less like a cliché and more like a confession. The accompanying music video, premiering in March 2013, opts for simplicity, capturing Trey in stark, minimalist visuals that mirror the song’s emotional weight. *Chapter V* itself lands Trey in new terrain, debuting atop the Billboard 200 and showcasing a mix of introspection (“Heart Attack”) and club-ready anthems (“2 Reasons”). “Fumble,” however, stands out by trading bombast for introspection, a move that adds depth to a record largely defined by its polished R&B-pop sheen. Though unadorned by awards, it serves as a reminder that even in an album engineered for mass appeal, there’s space for storytelling that stings with authenticity. ![]() |
![]() 5 . Al Green . Let’s Stay TogetherAl Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” represents a moment when love met groove and struck a chord that reverberates to this day. Released in 1971, the track is not just a feather in Green’s cap; it defined that period’s Memphis sound and made soul music feel personal, intimate, and unavoidable. Behind the smooth facade of Green’s buttery falsetto lies a process that belies its ease—Willie Mitchell and Al Jackson Jr. pieced together the structure, while Green reportedly penned its lyrics in a brisk five minutes, a fact both startling and delightful to those who overthink their craft. Its chart-dominating run—topping both the Billboard Hot 100 and the R&B rankings—was less a surprise and more a foregone conclusion. Driving much of this success is its impeccable arrangement: a soft, funky rhythm section wraps around Green’s voice, which hovers somewhere between a solemn plea and a preacher’s sermon on commitment. For a tune so often reduced to soundtracking romantic clichés, its lyrics carry a subtle wisdom, finding strength in vulnerability, devotion, and the mundane beauty of sticking together through life’s messiness. Its cultural value isn’t just nostalgia, though; in 2010, it earned its spot in the Library of Congress’s National Recording Registry, a designation most songs only dream of. Imitation remains the sincerest form of flattery, and “Let’s Stay Together” has been reimagined countless times—Tina Turner’s electrified version being the standout. What sets Al Green’s original apart is its lack of artifice; there’s no grandstanding here, just an understated mastery of restraint and mood. Five decades after its release and a recent RIAA platinum certification later, this track finds itself remarkably undiminished, as if carved into the architecture of pop culture itself. It’s not just a song; it’s a statement—a musical exhale that, even now, refuses to grow stale or irrelevant. ![]() Al Green releases ‘Let’s Stay Together,’ an album produced By Willie Mitchell (1972) |
![]() 6 . Bettye Lavette . Let Me Down EasyBettye LaVette’s *Let Me Down Easy* may not ignite immediate name recognition, but in the 1965 R&B simmering pot, it packed quite the punch. Written by Dee Dee Ford and guided by Don Gardner’s production hand, the song isn’t a loud declaration but a cautiously framed plea wrapped in heartbreak’s velvet edge. It’s a slow burn, with Bettye’s raspy vocal delivery hinting at wisdom beyond her teenage years. The string arrangement by Dale Warren acts like a bittersweet lament, underscored by a bluesy guitar break that slices through the melancholy groove like an unexpected shard of glass. Commercially, it nudged its way to number 20 on the *Billboard* Hot Rhythm and Blues chart, a respectable showing that spoke more to its smoldering intensity than a flood of radio spins. Its reach wasn’t just chart-bound—LaVette debuted it on *Shindig!* in its heyday, subtly marking her place amidst the ever-shifting sands of mid-‘60s American pop culture, and circled back decades later to deliver the track on Jools Holland’s irreverently vibrant *Hootenanny*. The song’s life didn’t end there—it’s been re-recorded by LaVette herself, twisted into soulful covers by names like The Spencer Davis Group, and even morphed into hypnotic new territory through ODESZA’s 2022 reinvention, proving its lingering adaptability. An odd contradiction anchors it—a quiet arrangement masking turbulent emotion, a sense of surrender cloaking defiance. It leaves one foot in R&B tradition and tests how far yearning can stretch without breaking altogether. ![]() |
![]() 7 . Ike and Tina Turner . Higher and HigherIke & Tina Turner’s rendition of “I Want to Take You Higher” arrives with all the swagger one might expect from their late-60s-to-early-70s peak, a time when they were busy opening for the Rolling Stones and seducing rock audiences who likely knew more about guitars than grooves. Clocking in at 2:51, this 1970 funk rock cover transforms Sly Stone’s original into a punchier, brassier declaration, dripping with energy but never overstaying its welcome. Tina Turner’s vocal performance strikes with the fiery intensity of a live wire, while the Ikettes provide a molten harmony backdrop that feels both raw and rehearsed, like a shot of adrenaline with perfect cadence. The Liberty Records production, overseen by Ike Turner, doesn’t hide its agenda of crossover appeal. The rhythm section, particularly the bassline, carries a guttural urgency, crafting the perfect spine for the guitar riff to strut across. That B-side, “Contact High,” feels almost like an inside joke, a funk-infused wink to those already invested in retrieving more from the single. Chart-wise, the track’s presence wasn’t monumental—it peaked at No. 34 on the *Billboard* Hot 100—but its significance is less numerical and more contextual: a sonic bridge linking R&B’s fervent roots to rock’s expanding palette. It’s less about what it meant for Ike & Tina Turner’s legacy and more about what it proves—that even with highs and lows, they could make the needle jump somewhere between church and a house party. ![]() On TV today, Ike . Tina Turner at ‘Playboy After Dark’ (1970) |
![]() 8 . Destiny’s Child . Single LadiesSingle Ladies (Put a Ring on It) exudes an irresistible charm through its blend of uptempo dance-pop, bounce, and R&B, with dashes of dancehall and disco that give it a timeless groove. The track operates in the key of E major and keeps its energy steady with a tempo just shy of 97 beats per minute, striking a balance between defiant swagger and sly sophistication. The lyrics cut straight to the bone, dissecting a cultural phenomenon: men’s reluctance to commit, while the female protagonist waves her independence like a freshly-manicured battle flag, owning both the club and her singlehood. The accompanying video is nothing short of iconic—filmed in a single-location setup that focuses all the drama on the mesmerizing choreography of Beyoncé flanked by Ebony Williams and Ashley Everett. Clocking twelve hours of shooting and over 50 full takes of intricate movements that weave jazz, hip-hop, and J-Setting into an unrelenting rhythm, the routine is now etched in pop culture folklore. If the accolades weren’t enough, three Grammy wins in 2010, including Song of the Year, cements its undeniable impact. Its live performances, splashed across stages like the MTV Europe Music Awards, added layers of theatrical power, transforming a club anthem into a cultural juggernaut with an eternal aftertaste. ![]() |
![]() 9 . Michael Jackson . Heal the worldMichael Jackson’s “Heal the World” is less a song and more a plea disguised as a melody, where sweeping balladry meets sermon-like earnestness. Released as the sixth single from his 1991 *Dangerous* album, this track positions Jackson in the throes of moral gravitas, imploring humanity to turn swords into plowshares—an unmistakable biblical nod that feels both ambitious and naive. The production, co-helmed by Jackson and Bruce Swedien, is lush yet restrained, a calculated backdrop for Jackson’s weighty proclamation. While the antiwar message is noble, the song’s saccharine delivery teeters between heartfelt and heavy-handed. The music video, favoring subdued visuals of global unrest over Jackson’s usual theatrics, underscores the attempt to universalize the message, though it risks veering into oversimplification. Performed during the 1993 Super Bowl XXVII halftime show alongside 35,000 flashcard-wielding audience members, the song bordered on spectacle, its ambitious message fighting to rise above the event’s corporate veneer. Jackson himself called it his proudest creation, a weighty self-appraisal for a man whose catalog traversed disco, funk, and stardom. Chart performers varied, with it soaring to No. 2 in the UK while finding a humbler reception at No. 27 on the US Billboard Hot 100. The track’s inclusion in Jackson’s Staples Center memorial years later, and Ciara’s BET Awards tribute performance, entrenches its legacy as a staple of his humanitarian branding rather than, perhaps, a pure artistic peak. ![]() |
![]() 10 . Janet Jackson . When . Think Of You“When I Think of You” by Janet Jackson lands itself squarely in the pop-funk playground of the ’80s, where synth lines flirt with perky percussion and melodies cling to your brain like neon leg warmers to calves. Produced by the dream team Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, the track leans into every tic of their feather-light, precision-era Minneapolis sound but doesn’t drown in overproduction. Jackson’s voice, often critiqued for its breathy timbre, fits here just right—it isn’t aimed to belt notes into the stars but rather to glide weightlessly over the instrumental bed, coaxing listeners onto the dance floor rather than commanding them. Thematically, it’s as straightforward as pop can be—a euphoric ode to infatuation—but its charm lies in its production polish and unpretentious delivery. And then comes the video, a patchwork fantasy of choreographed whimsy in a bustling neighborhood where Jackson looks like she’s simultaneously performing for everyone and no one—effortless and a tad theatrical, as directed by Julien Temple and fine-tuned by Paula Abdul’s choreography. The choice to use the 12-inch remix for the video is both playful and pragmatic, letting dancers breathe and setting the tempo for a vibrant, visual footnote to the song’s original composition. While it may not push cultural boundaries or redefine genres, it has the kind of effervescent catchiness that lacks the cynicism of late-’80s pop trends, standing instead as a testament to Jackson’s growing confidence under the creative umbrella of “Control.” ![]() |
![]() 11 . The Temptations . Cloud Nine“Cloud Nine” by The Temptations serves as the group’s bold entry into the realm of psychedelic soul, a stark departure from their earlier, smoother Motown hits. Released in 1969, the track’s upbeat tempo and layered instrumentation draw heavy inspiration from Sly & The Family Stone, creating a fresh, experimental sound. Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong’s production practically bursts with wah-wah guitars, driving basslines, and a relentless rhythm that refuses to sit still, giving the track an almost chaotic urgency. What sets this song apart is the vocal interplay, as all five members—Dennis Edwards, Eddie Kendricks, Paul Williams, Melvin Franklin, and Otis Williams—divvy up the lead, lending a patchwork feel that mirrors its kaleidoscopic theme. Although the lyrics hint at escapism, with phrases like “Cloud Nine” alluding to states of bliss, Berry Gordy’s initial paranoia about potential drug connotations only added to the song’s mystique. The controversy didn’t hinder its climb on the charts, peaking impressively high on both the Pop and R&B rankings and earning the group their first Grammy. The track’s relentless momentum and genre-defying vibe manage to toe the line between social commentary and dancefloor filler, making it one of the boldest experiments in Motown’s catalog. Ultimately, “Cloud Nine” is less about delivering a coherent narrative and more about the sheer energy it generates, marking a daring chapter in The Temptations’ storied career. ![]() |
![]() 12 . Fugees . Vocab“Vocab” serves as both an assertion of artistry and a lyrical playground that spotlights the Fugees’ adept verbal stylings. Situated in the uneven terrain of their debut album, *Blunted on Reality*, the track manages to stand out for its layered production, co-crafted by Pras Michel, Wyclef Jean, and Salaam Remi. Anchored in the years of its making—between ’92 and ’93—the song captures the underground grit of an era when hip hop was still defining its boundaries. The inclusion of references to various locales gives “Vocab” a spatial dynamism, as if the lyrics are mapping out a global linguistic cipher. The accompanying video sets parts of this narrative in East Harlem, a fitting backdrop for the group’s streetwise poetics. Commercially, the track had modest outcomes, peaking at number 22 on the Billboard Hot Rap Singles chart, but what it lacked in chart dominance it made up for in remixes—an opportunity for Salaam Remi and the group to reimagine its essence. Critics would later see in “Vocab” a preview of the layered, culturally nuanced craftsmanship fully realized on *The Score*. While *Blunted on Reality* barely skimmed the commercial surface, tracks like “Vocab” carried the DNA of what would eventually make the Fugees a household name: sharp lyrics, rich textures, and a knack for transcending the mundane limits of genre classification. ![]() The Fugees release their debut album . ‘Blunted on Reality’ (1994) |
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