Most all within the sphere of my reach has a reverence for classic soul music. Not upper-cased to designate any genre distinction, but closer to the ground… the small “s” signifying what truly changes and crosses the course of our blood. We’ve sought solace and direction as if a spinning disc were a communion rail before which we surrender; as if at the bent knee of our parents. It’s a ritual that has remained fortifying and alive – because the music itself has: refusing challenges to its legacy and relevance by evolving as we do.
Otis Redding, being but one sharp example, continues to sound like a living human being leaping from a pair of speakers because, in a very real way, he is one: his voice still reaching out with what poet William Carlos Williams…

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