As approximately 62 of you know, I’ve been spinning a Friday Soul mix via the old Twitter account. Man is it groovy! I’m even linking to videos. The playlist so far:

1. Otis Redding, “Shake” (live at Monterey Pop, 1967)
2. Raphael Saadiq, “Let’s Take a Walk”
3. Laura Nyro, “And When I Die”
4. James Brown, “Super Bad”
5. Buddy Guy, “Feels Like Rain”
6. Mofro, “Ho Cake”
7. James Cotton, Muddy Waters, Johnny Winter, “Got My Mojo Workin’” (hey, we’re branching out)
8. The Impressions, “Long Long Winter”
9. Rod Stewart, “(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher”
10. Bettye LaVette, “You Don’t Know Me At All”
11. Van Morrison, “I’ve Been Working”
12. Curtis Mayfield, “People Get Ready” (some live version from, I think, 1974)

Eclectic, see, yet accessible. But it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings! (No Aretha jokes, if ye please.) Just point the browser of your choice in this direction, make like a lemming, and follow along. Suggestions are appreciated. As are witty remarks concerning my inclusion of Rod Stewart…or the fact that a number of these tracks don’t necessarily qualify as soul.

Below the jump: the remainder of the mix, updated incrementally.

13. JJ Grey, “The Sun Is Shining Down”
14. Al Green, “Get Back” (yep, that one)
15. The Acoustics, “I’m Gonna Stay In A Hurry”
16. Jackie Wilson & Count Basie, “In the Midnight Hour”
17. Sam Cooke, “Somebody Have Mercy” (live at the Harlem Square Club, 1963)

Photo by niecieden, Creative Commons attribution license

You won’t need a metronome to guess that it was the James Brown-type grooves off the first record that kept the 9:30 Club audience (at $30 a pop) shaking and sweating past midnight on Saturday. Jones’ show is structured along the lines of a gospel revue, a single extended exhortation that includes a lot of flop-sweat and audience participation. Anchored on the low end by a belch-y bari sax and on the high end by squealing trumpet and a two-guitar attack, Jones lays down her brash soprano with the confident intimacy of an old lover who sees right through you (cf. “What Have You Done for Me Lately?”). She sees right through herself too—ribbing things like her age (53) and her height (unspecified, though she notes that her legs are about half as long as Tina Turner’s). That low center of gravity matches a barreling live presence, one not easily effaced by the occasional Wedding-band funk of her otherwise groovy associates.

Fittingly, this was also the throngingest crowd I’ve seen at the 9:30 Club. What makes one sold-out show more packed than another? Probably all that dancing. Sure, Jones played only a 75-minute set—a rollicking, heart-stopping, thoroughly exhausting set—as opposed to the marathon two-fers she’s been known to pull on occasion. But that’s not much to complain about. Especially since, for many couples, 75 minutes is a whole lotta foreplay.

I’m fascinated by the notion of influences and inspirations, especially when they’re mashed up and twisted by geographical and cultural differences. Listening to any The Soundtrack Of Our Lives album conjures up bits from the historical nature of rock n roll—how it was served like a flaming tennis ball across the pond to Britain by Chuck Berry, volleyed back by the Rolling Stones and returned again by Otis Redding.

Often they cram the entire playlist of a classic rock station into one song, other times appropriating (doppelganger-style) a signature sound, as in the Doors’ knockoff “Age of No Reply” from Origin, Vol. 1.

For some reason, and much like their fellow Swedes the Hellacopters, it works. It must be the earnestness and reverences they employ. American bands who try this approach end up sounding like Matchbox 20, or are Matchbox 20.

Communion, the new T.S.O.O.L album continues this trend. The album, however, does not hew to serious indie sensibility nor will it receive much critical love. It is fun, though, and well crafted. Songs like “Flipside” finds relation to the Who’s “Goin’ Mobile” while “Fly” gets all Mamas and Papas.

One could argue that the double album approach includes too much filler. True, Communion does have its share of ballad-y cheese, but I prefer to view it from a the standpoint of jazz musicians who use space and silence—the cheddar numbers with their drops in tempo enable a bigger impact in the the rock songs.

RA 88 from Communion:

Flipside from Communion:

Age of No Reply from Origin, Vol. 1:

Infa Riot from Behind the Music:

Her Strut – the Hellacopters