There’s an obvious play on the Spinners original here, but that doesn’t mean that these folks don’t create a serious stomper all their own. I first got hipped to Myron & E through Chris in my current DJ collective.

The unstoppable beat of northern-tempo soul turns me on like nothing else, and quite frankly, gets the kids shakin’ like few things do these days. The Finnish Timmion label is putting out tracks that are befuddling and euphoric for the same reasons. I can hardly believe that these recordings are not mid-sixties. It’s almost scary to me the way the Soul Investigators provide quality, legit sounding soul tunes resonating in the same manner as many of my old crusty 45s.

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Joining the ranks of soul revivalist groups such as El Michels Affair and The Dap Kings are Chicago’s own The Uptown Sound. Fronted by the charismatic JC Brooks, this group channels equal parts grimy garage and butter drenched R&B. Spanish label Vampi Soul released this sharply packaged 45 just a few weeks ago, and neither side disappoints. The A side of this dancefloor gem sports an alternate version of Baltimore is the New Brooklyn, the fiery single from this year’s The Beat Of Our Own Drum.

chicago based label numero group do it right: their packaging, the selection, and the attention to detail are beyond the comprehension of any casual music listener. I had the pleasure of attending last April’s Eccentric Soul revue at Chicago’s Park West, and honestly, I had never witnessed anything like it before in my life.

I’m too young to have ever attended the Motown or Stax revues, but as an enthusiast of 60s soul music, I was elated with the fast-paced, act-to-act, this band is taking a break when they die formula to the evening. On November 7, the Numero Group take the Eccentric Soul Revue on the road with Syl Johnson, The Notations, Renaldo Domino, Sharon Clark, Linda Balantine. and several other guest acts from night to night. Check their website to see if any of the six US dates are remotely near your town. If not, buy a plane ticket.

When I was little, for reasons I can no longer remember, I wanted to be Catwoman. A little older and appreciating the impracticalities of such an outfit, I’ve decided to be Erykah Badu, instead. On the Spanish leg of her recent European tour she rocked the crowd with her funky dance moves and a set of pipes that are a weapon of mass destruction. Her tunes, both old and new, were performed with vigour and something a little harder to explain. It was her vibe, her flow, her drama, her wit that enthralled me. Like Catwoman, she was something beautiful, dangerous and dressed in black.

There are probably only a handful of artists in the world now that are a genre unto themselves; so idiosyncratic that they get their own special unit in the CD rack. Such is the case with Tom Waits, who lies somewhere across the normally clear boundary between rusty, stripped down blues and a musical product of the nuthouse. What makes him so interesting is that the root of the music isn’t so obviously the influence of a batch of seminal artists but instead the crazed inner workings of his own mind, which he has managed to adapt and project onto a market now so polluted with squeaky clean, ordinary music.

His late-July gig at the Grand Rex, Paris, was perhaps the greatest I’ve ever seen. The auditorium was like a snapshot of a fairytale — decked out with turrets, candles and a deep-blue starry ceiling — as if they took a chunk of Tom’s own world and rebuilt it for the audience to be a part of. When the spotlight dimmed in and he lurched into the opening track, eyes and mouths in the audience stared agape in wonderment at this wild figure howling at the night, arms outstretched and fluttering madly like a dragonfly. He creates a spectacle so unlike any other: it’s the richest of performances rather than just ‘a gig’, and throughout littered with bizarre (but hilarious) anecdotes, audience participation (3000-odd voices belting out Innocent When You Dream) and his own unintelligible mutterings.

And it’s the mark of true musical genius that he could roar out his 60-a-day voice, often slurring from one word to the next, yet maintain the most exquisite sense of pitch and timing. Even sitting high up at the back his presence filled the entire hall, with every note and subtle turn of melody soaring straight into the ear. The slower piano piece, originally delivered as smooth ballads but now so guttural, were touchingly poignant and tuneful. It’s hard to pick out highlights, but Falling Down, Innocent When You Dream and Hold On left a mark that it’s unlikely future concert could erase.

Listen to the Tom Waits song, Top of the Hill.

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Twenty-six year old Beth Rowley hails from Bristol, England, but her smoky gospel style creates a beautifully mysterious impression of a dark diva from yesteryear, sashaying across a small stage to a packed crowd. Her debut album Little Dreamer is an enchanting mesh of country, blues and gospel that draws heavily on Rowley’s talents as a singer-songwriter. Indeed, Little Dreamer is the perfect soundtrack to a rainy Saturday afternoon, when you’ve got nothing to do but drink wine and sing along.

Sam Sparro has been causing quite the buzz in the UK with his top five album debut, heavy BBC Radio 1 airplay, and a big thumbs-up from Mark Ronson (who brought him on stage recently at the Coachella Festival) and Chaka Khan (‘Damn, that white boy can sing’). Sitting somewhere between Prince and Stevie Wonder, Hot Chip and Basement Jaxx, the 25 year-old creates ‘must-spin’ singles. And the guy has serious soul. Sparro has also mastered the art of melody and knows a killer chorus when he hears one. Just listen to the sublime new single Black and Gold for proof.

With his dazzling electro-soul-jazz fusion, Jamie Lidell is quite the showman. He has a new album out — the dryly named Jim — and a head full of sparkling melodies to share. So we stopped him in his tracks for a chat.

You’ve talked about the free gigs you did in Eastern Europe as a means of “cleansing” yourself. A lot of mudslinging in the celebrity world or is it the relentless indulgence that grates? ‘Ah, that’s the big question, isn’t it! Well, I was just getting too used to the usual treatment from show to show in Europe and America — the backstage scene, the candy, the highshakes, the low ballers, the rollers … Eastern Europe gave me a new taste — the taste of quality. A gift that keeps on giving after the take take mantra of the west. Amen!’

I’m sure readers of this site wouldn’t like the bubble to completely burst on their ideas of music stardom. In 10 words can you let rip on the best thing about your job? ‘I got me friends in every part of the world through the gigging. Friends’.

In the UK you’re all over Radio 2 at the moment, known traditionally for its older audience. Can you really categorise your fanbase or are you traversing genres, so to speak? ‘First of all, 2 is the new 1 darlin! You see, radio 1 is only for those crazy roll body breaklording yoot. I got my sights on another pie and another habit. Jockeying the charts is for sick looseball surf dogs. I try and keep the keel strong and true. The only way is through. And on the way through it’s up. That was something of a first lesson I had to learn. Back in the day you see’.

Your label, Warp, is largely known for its bleepy electronic music. Where does your take on soul fit into their spectrum? ‘On the gold side. On the sunny side up side. On the sidle over here side. On the side of the overdog. Underneath the over over dog but on the top heap looking through one of the less warped windows. Quite a view’.

Super Collider have been on hold for a while now. Any chance we’ll see a resurrection any time soon?
‘Hold is gold. Think of it like two old clarets taking taking form. I personally don’t have a problem with that metaphor. Cris might. Nah … I doubt it. We will regroup when the stars are in the low and the wind is high. That’s my last word’.

Jamie Lidell’s new album, Jim, is out now on Warp through Inertia.

For those who missed the amazing debut album of Amy Winehouse, you’re in luck. They’ve just re-released Frank in it all its award-winning glory, with extra bonuses such as unreleased tracks, B-sides, original demos and live performances. An intensely personal debut, Winehouse created an album of highs, but mostly lows, about a man she’s trying to love. It is an album about her rejection, and it’s so raw it will make you cringe. Undeniably, Frank shows Winehouse’s talents as a soul singer, but more importantly, as a young woman struggling with her life (she was 19 when she wrote it); a woman that has an openly devastating devil do, devil die attitude, and a depressive state of mind that’s on par with Janis Joplin.

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Oh man, this is good. If Jamie Lidell was born in any earlier era, he would have soul brother number one plastered all over his birth certificate.

It may have been a bad move on my behalf to play the soulful tracks of Duffy for the first time at 9:30 this morning. The talented 24 year-old Welsh native had me crooning along to her emotional roller-coaster of melancholy like I needed a strong southern drink — pretty impressive considering I’m not one for soul music. Yet what makes Duffy’s music so inviting is not just the fact that she oozes the fun of Amy Winehouse on a high, or the nostalgic woes of Dusty Springfield, but her marvelously modern take on a genre that is belittled by bad covers and aspiring country singers. No surprises then that her debut album Rockferry is the biggest selling album in the UK this year, selling more than 560,000 copies already.

We’re big fans of the diverse musical output of Barry Adamson, so we caught up with him for a chat. From Visage to Pan Sonic, to your solo music. You’ve covered virtually every sonic territory. Anything left to take on? ‘I’m sure there’s lots! Recently, I got the chance to do live experimental improvisation; controlling effects and working around a storyteller. It felt really fresh, and sounds seem to be evolving from nothing. It felt like somewhere I had never been before’. There’s a timeless pop feel to your songs. Did you take inspiration at any stage from the Brill Building songwriters? And is there a subtle nod to Motown in the arrangements on your new album, Back To The Cat? ‘Yes, I guess I regonised something in the music of my childhood that goes beyond a simple nostalgia. The idea of originality and sublime emoting from a three-minute song was everything. Those songs were so powerful that I’m completely nodding in that direction and trying to find the stuff of great songwriting along the way. With [his song] Straight ’til Sunrise, there is an obvious and almost direct steal from Motown: on purpose, to make a point. ‘Baby don’t leave me’, but in my song it’s too late — she’s gone! So I’m playing with the idiom and using real time stretching to refurnish an idea that hit me once’. Of all the people you’ve worked with, who most notably just had ‘it’ whatever ‘it’ is — that indefinable spark of genius that differentiates them. ‘Lots of the instrumentalists I work with. The saxophonist Pete Whyman has “it”, so does the trumpeter Ben Edwards, and the organ players, Nick Plytas and Dave Formula. Oh yeah, and Nick Cave’.

Have you listened to Erykah Badu’s album New Amerykah yet? Her music, as always, is fresh, different, original and so Erykah Badu that it sounds like no one else’s. Every album of hers is better than the one before, and this one is no exception. My recent heavy rotation work music.

Watch the clip to the Erykah Badu track, Bag Lady.

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Arthur Lee’s band Love combines it all: R&B, rock, folk-rock, and garage, with odd, dark lyrics. Yet it maintains a humorous edge. This is timeless music that people will always come back to. Hell, the man even turned on Hendrix!

If Dusty Springfield and Bryan Ferry had a love child, if their paths has crossed ever so briefly in some sketchy Soho warehouse, it would be Welsh chanteuse, Duffy. We sat down with her recently to see what makes her tick, tick, tick: Bar a few bands, Wales isn’t renowned for its music. How did you develop an enthusiasm and confidence without that solid bedrock that would drive artists in places like Manchester, Liverpool and London? ‘Just out of desire. I really wanted to do it, but I’m still trying to find confidence. I just wanted to make a record and be a part of the music culture. But where I grew up, I felt I had to keep all this to myself because other people were only going to disagree. I prefer to never tell somebody something than have them disagree with me’. You’ve really built your sound on classic 50s and 60s soul. Did you see it as a risk considering a lot of artists today borrow elements from old genres and fit them in to very contemporary sounds? ‘For me, the sound is the science. It’s all in the sonics, and I delivered what I wanted to deliver, not what I felt others thought I should. To be honest, I’m not influenced by that era. I’ve grown up listening to Bowie and Richard Hawley, not Dusty Springfield who I get compared to a lot. Therefore it’s difficult to relate to that soul bracket because I don’t know it; it’s not what I think I am. The whole process of writing and recording the album was very organic, not preconceived’. You’ve hinted before at your musically-isolated upbringing. How much is the purity in your style down to this? ‘Well, of course I had radio and TV, so to some extent kept up with new releases but current trends just didn’t play a massive part in our society. I still have friends who don’t own records. I guess my sound isn’t necessarily influenced by other sounds but by my imagination and my surroundings. When I first got to the studio, it was quite intimidating because I didn’t have any solid reference points in that sense’. There’s something so timeless about both the songwriting and, particularly, the production. How much of an influence was Bernard Butler on this? ‘He played a huge part in the sonics but the record really chose its own direction. It wasn’t a contrived thing; I built it up over the course of four years so it’s a real mix of sounds. I wanted to make a modest a sincere record and that’s why I don’t like comparisons. Production-wise, we both wanted it to be dirty and rough, but he wasn’t at all forceful, and no-one pushed me in a particular direction’. Introducing the track, Scared, at a gig recently, you said the song confronts some very painful issues. Is songwriting and performing very cathartic for you? ‘No. I don’t write songs from a personal perspective — I try to stay away from being indulgent although there are times when there is an element of personal truth in them. Everyone knows rejection and fear but I don’t like my own experiences to be exposed’.

There are plenty of legendary albums, but few stunning live releases. Sam Cooke’s blistering set recorded in a sweaty Miami Club (pre-dating Live At The Apollo by ten months) could well be the best ever. Mr Soul gives his all through a gig that includes Chain Gang, party rave-up Twisting The Night Away, and the definitive version of Bring It On Home To Me. Cooke’s usually sweet voice is at times raspy, which gives the tunes an added fervor as he brings the audience to the edge of ecstasy like a Southern Preacher conducting a sermon. Most concert albums show an artist performing at their peak of their live career. The scary thing is that this was the norm for a Sam Cooke show. Shamefully unreleased until 1985, Live At The Harlem Square Club is the ultimate testament to the inventor of Soul Music.