Talk about a confident mission statement of a beginning. ‘Who’s That’ comes marching in on top of a strutting soul beat that definitely means business. One-two, one-two, one-two with funky blues keys sitting on top of the rhythm and a fanfare of soul horns joining in just as our main man begins to demand information on “who’s that baby?” He is telling it like it is and taking down names, “when the going got tough you were nowhere to be found,” but the undeniable impression is that this man’s head is in a good place and he wants to shit to get real and start happening. Openers do not come much more assured and this improbable debut artist has laid the table out for some tasty delights that are about to be served. If the opener had an assured strut, then ‘That’s The Man’ waltzes in wearing sunglasses indoors. It has a syncopated bang to the riffing, the kind that is potentially begging for a hip-hop producer to cut up and dramatically repurpose. Not that anything else is needed on these tracks, this is a masterclass in modern interpretation of soul music born out of the school of gospel, it is overloaded with hooks, textures, beats, and passion. On that, ‘Gone With The Wind’ disguises itself as a detour onto smoother soul playing surface but, even here, there is room for a groovy piano intersection that echoes with the motion of a northern soul dancefloor.

By the time we hit the title track it feels like the previous northern references were just a tease, because this one is an out-and-out Wigan Casino era pumping floor filler. “It’s all I can do, just to hold on to, electric love” Wallace sings as the dizzying momentum of the frantic, energised beat sends him into a tailspin. There is no respite though, ‘Top Shotta’ may spend more than a minute of its intro with nothing more than our man singing over a piano line, but it is those fat low keys at the bass end of the keyboard smashing out a groove begging for the heartbeat drums and handclaps that eventually join the party. If we can just pause now briefly, you need to know that this excitement is being generated by Brother Wallace, a West Point, Georgia-bred singer, pianist, and soul revivalist who began singing early and was playing piano by the age of six. At age fourteen he was directing choirs before becoming a music teacher in adulthood. He has taken a long route to a debut album which finally took some positive turns when Dan Taylor, of the pure soul rockers The Heavy, had a chance encounter with Wallace and took on the driving role of co-producer and co-writer, generating the momentum that we feel today on this sensational release.

And back to the music, ‘No God In This Town’ is the first time we take our foot off the gas, as Brother Wallace proves he has the versatility to handle that southern gospel style; a mournful church organ underlays a track that cannot help but feel rousing as the horns and the bereft emotion rise while our singer laments the towns spiritual void. Then he announces, correctly, “I’m a man on a mission” as the furiously maniacal beat of ‘Who Do You Love’ shoots out of the starters block. If there is anyone unable to answer these questions as our man advances, they had better get out of the way quick. Eight tracks in and as the Brother hits ‘Any Day Now’ he begins to uncover even more refined fabrics in his dressing up box. This one is so smoky it is almost out of view, a song that floats in the air and caresses your mind rather than submerging you with rhythm, although the Motown beats of ‘A Patient Man’ soon redress that balance. The electric keys that drive ‘Midnight Valley’ evoke a dimly lit jazz club atmosphere, although the lived-in grit of Wallace’s voice keep us anchored in the soul world before ‘Jealous’ sees our man let his guard down, unafraid to show vulnerability.

‘Hope Of Fools’ demonstrates again what a rhythmic instrument the piano can be when played the Brother Wallace way, it reminds me of those classic early Bill Withers tracks. ‘Let’s Get Together’ is a credible stab at something inclusive, positive, celebratory, and even anthem worthy, it throws every winning ingredient into the melting pot. You might reasonably expect this to be the end (and it is on some versions) but instead ‘Honey’ delivers a final downpour of sweet stuff before we close with ‘Me And My Running Shoes,’ a wholly unexpected two minute brush with authentic slide guitar blues, it is almost as if Brother Wallace is warning us, especially with that choice of footwear, not to pin him down. He sure can switch to any direction in the blink of an eye and no matter where he heads, his conviction will ensure it never feels like a wrong turn. Soul music done right like this just feels so good and if you do not believe me, plug in to ‘Electric Love’ and then try and say I am wrong without sounding foolish.

Danny Neill

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