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Al Green: Lay It Down
Just let the man sing, please—the man being Al Green, who may or may not be the greatest male soul singer ever (just as Otis Redding may or may not be; or Marvin Gaye may or may not be, and so on).
If there is anything—there are two, actually—about Al Green's latest release, Lay It Down (Blue Note Records), that diminishes its overall effect it is that he is accompanied by multiple guest stars (see: Carlos Santana's Supernatural back in 1999, a career revitalization effort with multiple guest stars that mostly worked; could "Smooth" really have been recorded that long ago)? But Santana, in the vocal arena, could use the help. But not the Reverend Al Green, certainly not the man who made "I'm Still In Love with You," Love and Happiness," and, among many classics, "Call Me."
They made you want to fall in love with someone, anyone.
This is not to diminish the talent of his support: Anthony Hamilton, John Legend, and the ethereal and divine and spritely Corinne Bailey Rae, especially Rae, who will rob you of everything except illusions of reaching for her and pulling her close, her lover and protector. These are all able, accomplished singers in their own right. But to put it bluntly—excepting perhaps Ms Rae—Green doesn't need them.
However you view his historical standing as a soul singer, you can't deny that exquisite voice—airy, whispery, mewling, soul-saturated. It belongs in a time capsule for the heavens for anyone out there, whoever's out there, to hear. It would be testament to the beauty, the power, and the emotional surrender that great music, especially soul music, induces. Of course it should come with a warning: when Al Green sings, intimacy ensues.
Green, of course, is a complicated man, but his muse has always followed a certain trajectory. He defined it in the 1970's with longtime producer Willie Mitchell at Hi Records. And it made him legendary. Then Green—and the grits in the face of his lover story is certainly apocryphal—left soul music for religion and the gospel, an even more emotive kind of soul. His departure point came with the release of The Belle Album in 1977, which in many ways is his best. You hear a man moving toward his God, but not so easily, at least in that his music only stubbornly lets go of his secular sexuality. The Belle Album was for Green an idiosyncratic album, and it marked a significant departure for him. It didn't chart, and it didn't make sense to the millions of listeners who would never relinquish "Call Me."
A long hiatus ensued. In 2003 he tried to capture the old Hi Records magic—what brought him out of his gospel devotion is uncertain—with Mitchell in I Can't Stop. By Green's and Mitchell's standards it was average: a few good songs but not the old Al Green (of course, is it even fair to expect the old Al Green)? Two songs off of that album were standouts: "Not Tonight," and "I'd Write a Letter." Not much else conjured up the old soul magic. In 2005, Green/Mitchell teamed again on Everything's OK—like I Can't Stop, released on Blue Note Records. I didn't eclipse its predecessor: one or two good songs, but the old Al was missing.
Give credit to Green for shaking things up on Lay It Down. He turned from Mitchell and improbably hired as producers Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson of the Roots (a layered and nuanced drummer) and James Poyser, a "?uestlove" associate.
The result is clearly a better album than Green's previous two. But is still feels somewhat disappointing, and not just because Green's paired with singers who are not even in his league—again, excluding the luminous Bailey.
(The collaboration may have been difficult. In an interview with "?uestlove" something about the recording session came up and Green said in effect that, "I'm Al Green goddammit, and I'll sing it the way I wanna sing it." That may or may not be true.)
(Extended note here: I once saw a documentary where Al Green and Lyle Lovett were recording a duet cover of Willie Nelson's "Ain't it Funny How Time Slips Away." Despite his best efforts, Green was losing patience with Lovett, who simply wasn't "getting" some of the notes. To his credit, Lovett took it good naturedly. The point being, who'd even want to try and sing with the man?)
Green would have been better off going it alone, as he so often has. His voice requires no support.
And, finally, here's the other problem with Lay It Down. Green's songwriting is simply not strong; it's an afterthought. There's little going on in the lyrics, and even if Green is a man who never wrote complicated verses, he always had a writer's sense of how he wanted to say something. I'm sure Green wanted to say many things here, but I doubt he wanted to take the time to puzzle at it. Perhaps he, too, simply thought big name accompaniment would be enough.
This may be a criticism. But it's also Al Green. So even though Lay It Down is a less than stellar outing, much of it is fine, indeed: especially the Green/Bailey collaboration.
Speaking of taking time, that's the name of their song: "Take Your Time." It is a slow dance, a long burn that seems never to end, even when the song stops.
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