Album Review: Charles Bradley - Changes
Living on the streets at one point, he later hitchhiked is
way across the country and worked odd jobs for a bulk of his adult life before
he was plucked out of obscurity while performing as a James Brown impersonator
and signed to Daptone Records in 2002. Releasing sporadic singles for the label
for nearly a decade, he eventually went on to put out a collection of them as
his first record, 2011’s No Time For
Dreaming.
Following up 2013’s Victim
of Love, Bradley has returned with Changes,
an album named after its centerpiece (and probably it’s best track), a
harrowing Black Sabbath cover, of all things.
“Is this new or old,” my wife asked me, while I was listening
to Changes. And that’s the thing
about the “Daptone” sound—a sound, and label, I’ll admit, I am not familiar
with, outside of the knowledge that a group like Sharon Jones and The Dap-Kings
exists, are played a lot on public radio, and therefore, middle aged white
people generally seem to like them.
The “Daptone” throwback sound is something that is a little
tough to believe is being made, in earnest, in 2016; but it is. It’s the kind
of blatant homage to a time and a musical style from so long ago that the whole
thing seems disingenuous at first, and my initial instinct was to roll my eyes
at it all—from Bradley’s backstory and persona, right down to the sleeve
artwork for the album.
But then I listened to “Changes,” (which is phenomenal in
its depiction of heartbreak) and a majority of my skepticism faded away.
Despite catering to the nostalgia of the funk, soul, and
R&B sounds of the 1960s and 70s, Changes
is a relatively fun and invigorating listen (thanks in part to the tight
musicianship of his band), showing that Bradley, even when in full on James
Brown mode (like on “Good to Be Back Home”) is, as a performer, the real deal.
However, the entire conceit behind this record also proves
to be its fatal flaw—a small amount of Charles Bradley goes a long way (perhaps
that is why he spent so long releasing only singles) and even clocking in at
only eleven songs, one of the things I noticed right away about Changes is following the album’s halfway
point, it starts to sound a little samey—there’s only so much variation on this
very specific theme that one can provide within the confines of a record.
That’s not to say Changes
is a bad record, because it’s not. It’s good, and despite its old timey nature,
the songs are steeped within a modern sense of urgency and immediacy. It slows
itself down and plays an emotional card in the right moments, like on the
horn-laden jams “Nobody But You” and “Slow Love”; and it knows when to pick up
the pace and slither into a strong funk rhythm, like on “Ain’t Gonna Give it
Up,” and the rollicking “Ain’t it A Sin.”
The timing of the release of Changes is somewhat impeccable, as winter slowly fades away and we
welcome warm, spring weather. It’s the kind of windows-open on a sunny day
listen that’s welcome at this time of year, but I have to wonder just how
essential—both in 2016 and in the larger picture—a release of this nature is. Sure I say that it’s a good record, and that
it has an immediacy to it, but is it a keeper? Is it the kind of thing that
I’ll come back to next year, or even later this year?
That is a question I cannot answer right now.
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