Blue-Eyed Soul – Memphis Flyer

Richard Wilson: Folk Jazz for the Fireside

Though the Memphis Flyer often covers the venerable Royal Studios‘ musical ventures, that’s typically in the context of stone legends — the likes of Al Green, Ann Peebles, Hi Rhythm and the like. What’s less often mentioned is Royal’s availability to the working musician today. Hi Rhythm, Boo Mitchell, and microphone #9 are right there, waiting to be booked.

One such workaday musician who made sparks fly at Royal back in 2020 is Michael “Spaceman” Graber. This year’s noteworthy entry is Richard Wilson, who’s jazz-inflected tunes for voice and guitar have graced Memphis for many years now, often cut at Scott Bomar’s former Electraphonic Recording location. This time around, with Distant Train, he’s upped the ante considerably, in terms of his ensemble. For when recording at Royal, why not seize the opportunity to include Boo Mitchell and Rev. Charles Hodges in your band?

Throw in Justin Walker on drums and that’s exactly what we have here. And the end result is such a warm, unpretentious vibe that the album could well grace many a holiday get-together this year. For, while these are not holiday songs in the least, and the album was in fact released this summer, the overall mellow-yet-swinging mood befits the chilly season exceptionally well.

Wilson’s lightly swinging jazz rhythm guitar sets the pace for each tune, with Hodges’ trademark creamy Hammond B-3 chords voiced perfectly around it. Even before the drums and Mitchell’s occasional electric piano chime in, a graceful harmonic blend is happening, on top of which Wilson weaves his low key lyrics and melodies.

Wilson, who originally hailed from England before relocating to Memphis, hits a sweet spot in the British blue-eyed soul tradition that stretches from Georgie Fame to Kevin Rowland to Simple Minds’ Jim Kerr. The singer himself invokes Bobby Darin. Whatever the influences, Wilson’s delivering his songs quietly, but earnestly and tunefully.

One standout is the folk/blues/jazz call to arms, “Say What is Right Blues.” Intoning “ooooh” like a half-remembered fever dream of Howlin’ Wolf, Wilson laments the state of the world:

Ooh — I’m not crying
Ooh — I ain’t lying
On and on and on and on it goes
Ooh — these thoughts ain’t dying

You gotta stand up and say what is right
Theres no more time
To stay down

The groove is raw and deliberate; the interplay of rhythm, keyboards and guitar is subtle and atmospheric. Despite the stellar players, this is not a soloist’s album, but rather a songwriter’s album. In treading the jazzier side of that genre, it avoids many of the cliches of Americana-style singer/songwriters; instead, it brings a kind of approachable, soulful jazz into play. And, when the home fires are burning, that’s a very welcome sound indeed.

Dan Penn knows a bit about suffering and joy. Since he began writing songs and producing at Fame Studios in Florence, Alabama, in 1960, and through his long Memphis period at American Sound Studio, creating hit after hit for the Box Tops and others, he’s always had a way of cutting to the quick of an emotion. “The Dark End of the Street,” the Penn classic made famous by James Carr, is both an urban landscape and a mental geography, limned with a few deft strokes of the pen, and the beauty of such a song lies in its simplicity.

For such songs, it’s ideal for the music to be like water. Like a pristine lake over which lyrics skip like stones, you may barely register that it’s there at all.

That’s the ideal, anyway, and it’s reassuring that such an approach informs Penn’s latest, Living on Mercy (Last Music Co.). The album, which was officially released two months ago, with a vinyl version coming out this Friday, is only his fifth collection of original songs, excluding live albums and compilations; and only his third fully produced record. And that may be because he takes his sweet time writing songs. Certainly, they all have an unhurried quality, where each word has been chosen and worked over carefully.

And the music fits this mood perfectly. There are no dramatic angles or sharp attacks, only resplendent beds over which Penn can pour his heart out. The recording sessions in Muscle Shoals and Nashville included Milton Sledge (drums), Michael Rhodes (bass), Will McFarlane (guitar) and Clayton Ivey (keyboards), along with a full horn section, and these players are clearly seasoned. Not a note is out of place.

The general approach is cosmopolitan soul, with smooth, church-like tones coloring even the more up-tempo numbers. Now, over a half-century after the innovations of soul were pioneered, those musical moves are well-practiced and flawless, yet heartfelt, and totally authentic. It feels reassuring to hear these sounds played with both heart and restraint.

And that allows Penn’s stories and moods to take center stage. To these ears, it’s a bit too reassuring when Penn is happy and grateful, as with the title track, but especially moving when he hints at something more grim. One standout track, “Blue Motel,” may be one of his most moving, simply by virtue of painting his dark portraits with such plainspoken honesty.

It’s a long and winding dusty road to the outskirts of hell
Where only losers find their way to this old run down motel
It’s a long way from paradise to the dark end of the street
From champagne to mad dog wine, it’s all so bittersweet
Here at the blue motel

There are many stories, many moods here, but something in this song cuts to the quick of them all. From champagne to mad dog wine, they’re all so bittersweet.