Send "Aloe Blacc " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 Hands up, who remembers the 1970s? OK, now who's gleaned a vague but evocative interpretation of the 70s through its music? Inevitability, the latter group is going to eventually outnumber the former group, and eventually the archivists and revisionists and reinterpreters will be all that's left. And while it'd be nice to think that this group of historical translators is going to do that weird, alternately maligned and lionized pop-music era justice, it's easy to overlook just how received some of that wisdom might be. Yes, Curtis Mayfield and Marvin Gaye were great-- but they were great when there wasn't an established standard for what Curtis Mayfield and Marvin Gaye were yet. Following their lead might take you places, but you don't sweat too much when shadows that tall give you shade every step of the way.Aloe Blacc's recently taken this classic-soul path after years of laboring under an intriguing indie-rap jack-of-all genres approach. And while he clearly studied the vintage R&B greats before creating Good Things, he's content just building a reasonably convincing backlot replica of classic soul rather than putting a new twist on it. Blacc doesn't display the sweet vocal flair of a Raphael Saadiq à la The Way I See It, or the modernized post-hip-hop touch of Ne-Yo in "Back Like That" mode. What he does have is a sort of straightforward emulation of that certain R&B singer-songwriter vibe, a modest, filed-down compromise somewhere between Bill Withers' raw, aching warmth and the smooth, subtle intensity of Donny Hathaway. That voice isn't without his strengths, and lead single-slash-How to Make It in America title theme "I Need a Dollar" is the best exhibit: His voice is strong enough to push back against the spring-step backbeat and turn the chorus into an earworm. If it's the song people know him for from here on out, he could do a lot worse. While Good Things is well-constructed and boasts some inspired touches (the backbone-shivering strings on "Take Me Back" and "Life So Hard"; a slick, skulking reggae groove on "Miss Fortune"), it lacks the foggy, borderline-sinister allure of the best El Michels Affair compositions it strives to match. And with Aloe Blacc's lyrics skewing toward sentiments that straddle the line between "universal" and "so what else is new," Good Things doesn't do much to catch you off guard. He can tug at your heartstrings when the opportunity presents itself; good luck listening to "Momma Hold My Hand" without getting a lump in your throat when he sings, "Momma used to be strong, but she ain't now." But enough of his lyrics lean heavily enough on generations-old songwriting tropes-- pouring his heart out for a woman by telling her that "you make me smile"; lamenting about "families in the street with nothing to eat/ Little baby boys and girls, no shoes on their feet"; calling politicians "hungry wolves dressed like sheep"-- that genuinely human and heartfelt ideas, even sung as warmly as they are, come across through their words like slogans you've long since tuned out....full text |
| Bbc |
| With recession biting both sides of the Atlantic, there are tangible twinges of disquiet at the heart of Western living right now, tapped into with great effect on Californian vocalist Aloe Blacc’s second album. The anti-superficiality of left-leaning hip hop and the like has long represented a counter stance well trodden as the wealth-flashing rap it opposes. Indeed, a bunch of Aloe Blacc’s label-mates on the ever-inventive Stones Throw have made cult careers mining such rich seams. Good Things is no mere beatnik projecting, however: Blacc was among thousands who saw their day jobs cut short by redundancy when the downturn hit. A noticeable shift from 2006 debut Shine Through, Good Things mines an indistinct middle ground between hip hop, gospel, soul and RnB over 50 minutes of unrepentantly grown-man music. Money, or lack thereof, is unsurprisingly his chief concern: the bruised croon of self-explanatory opener I Need a Dollar immediately affirms as much. Miss Fortune propels the standpoint a step further, Blacc recalling a youthful choice "between riding in a bus or driving a new Rolls-Royce/ And I decided what I wanted was the bread" with admirable candour. The uplifting manner in which he sets about detailing hardship is striking. Take Me Back, with its talk of getting "caught with your hand up in the cookie jar", is a slinky number one single from a parallel world, imbued with universally affecting qualities equalling prime Gnarls Barkley. And, much like semi-kindred Detroit spirit Dwele, there are timeless reverberations of Marvin Gaye here, too....full text |
| Dustedmagazine |
| Aloe Blacc is a changed man. Or, at least, a man who’s grown up. Good Things, his new album, is a marked leap upward in quality and maturity, a showcase for a singer who’s filled into his voice and potential. This sophomore effort bids adieu to the greenhorn of his first proper outing, Shine Through, a neophyte who seemingly tried out every available style to see what fitted best. In his place, Good Things welcomes the arrival of a dueño declaring what’s his. The confidence of Good Things may be its most distinguishing feature. Blacc owns each of the 13 songs on the album. That’s true even for his version of The Velvet Underground’s “Femme Fatale,” a slower and more soulful take that, in its brassy arrangement and earnest, plaintive delivery, is less a cover than a full-scale reinterpretation. Listeners may disagree with Blacc’s substitution of wistfulness and sweeping drama for the original’s sly understatement, or simply find the whole endeavor galling. But no one can deny the boldness of the attempt, the audacity to stake a claim to something that so clearly belongs to others. In a write-up of Shine Through, this reviewer took Blacc to task for lacking the character, charisma or depth that distinguishes the best soul singers from the chorus of pretty voices. That review, in hindsight, was put too strongly and needlessly harsh and overwritten. But its central point — that Blacc was too content to coast on his raw singing ability rather than fully think through his material — still seems correct revisiting Shine Through today. Consider Good Things a rejoinder, if not a knockout counterpunch. On this album, Blacc roots himself in the retro sounds of the 1970s. It’s a predictable move in these times of chic revivalism but, nonetheless, it proves to be more than a cynical effort to stay downwind of the gales of popular taste. Blacc’s baritone fits the organic instrumentation and romanticism of soul much better than the programmed burlesque of hip hop, the genre that grounded — in both senses of the word — his earlier work. Old-fashioned soul music gives Blacc more flexibility to show off his range, from the full-throated sing-song of “Miss Fortune,” to the falsetto cry on the backup chimes of “Your Love Is Killing Me.”...full text |
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