What’s new from Daptone Records, the Brooklyn-based label with a mythical reputation for bringing back old soul, not just shaping the sound of Amy Winehouse? The circle of recording artists is exclusive and manageable. Im ampere presented themselves The Sacred Souls with their debut album, produced by Daptone co-founder Gabe Roth himself. It attracted a large crowd and also a young, euphoric audience.
Support was provided by Jalen Ngonda, who introduced himself to Daptone with a 45 and delivered such an insanely precise falsetto soul to the shimmering sound of his Rickenbackers in Ampere solo that you can imagine how convincing it will be when played live with a band.
The sound of Thee Sacred Soul manifests itself physically in the first bars. You don’t want to withdraw from the warmth of glowing, ringing guitar licks and a gently hissing organ to the drums ticking through the evening. And then there is singer Josh Lane, who, alongside two background singers, becomes the preacher of love and likes to confess that he demands his own experiences from the audience with a show of hands. After a while, the center of the band becomes apparent: bassist Sal Samono is hidden by the singers. With a stoic Buster Keaton face, he’s following in the footsteps of uber-bassist James Jamerson. His melodic groove is so dense and free that everyone else before him can shine with minimal play.
But this perfect band has one problem: the songs themselves. The love that is sung about here comes from the building blocks of pop, is sometimes charged with longing, sometimes failed, but mostly fulfilled. So each song sets a strangely abstract feeling and stays with it – incapable of emotional chord changes. There is no room here for eroticism, let alone sex. “I feel the same way you do”, barmen singers in “Trade of Hearts”. Harmony of hearts, that’s clear. But in the bright light of desire a lukewarm confession of love.
Knock, knock, does the drums in “Future Lover”https://www.sueddeutsche.de/muenchen/.”Someone’s at the door” sings the sweet chorus of fate, “Ahh, who is it?” asks the singer . “It’s your future lover,” beams the chorus. This is how soul classics begin. But this grandiose beginning is followed by nothing. Lover there, end of story. Minutes of high-speed feel idling. With the skills of this band, truth would also develop with better songs.