Who Stole The Soul?

I’ve long been a fan of 1970s soul and funk. In the early part of that decade, exemplars like Stevie Wonder, Al Green and Marvin Gaye transformed soul from the three-minute pop wonders of 1960’s Motown into a complex, album-based genre. These pioneers produced some of the finest music extant; transcendent yet accessible and with a depth and social conscience to match any of the rock world’s heavy hitters.

But what happened? Where are the true 21st century descendants of this rich lineage? I ask because the singular crassness of 1990s “R & B” casts a long shadow even now. I use the phrase “R & B” with huge reluctance - singing 12 notes where one would suffice over a synthetic karaoke backing counts neither as Rhythm nor Blues, just excruciating dirge.

It is my contention that soul music never recovered from the technological advances of the 1980s. For me, a genre so reliant on the expression of human emotion, frailties and idiosyncrasies is fundamentally at odds with the cold metallic precision of a drum machine or digital synthesizer.

Perhaps the rise of hip-hop is also to blame. I’ve never quite been able to get my head around hip-hop; the machismo, posturing and self-aggrandisement of much of this genre are at odds with the vulnerability and everyman appeal of soul.

I’m generalising, of course. For example, I respect Chuck D (of Public Enemy) for his intelligence and righteous anger, which he channels in a positive way to provoke debate and make change for the greater good. Indeed, I’ve often read that the post-millennial production chicanery of Timbaland and The Neptunes is far more innovative and worthy than guitar-toting white boys plundering old Joy Division riffs. This is pretty much undeniable, but to me it just ain’t soul.