Somewhere, Kate Bush is smiling.

I Spied @ Soul Bounce.

Previously Posted — Black. Summers’. Night

The once bountiful land of apt vocalists has become creatively arid, destitute of talent and pathetically monotonous. It’s terribly easy to forget that there are artists out there with voices that do not require autotune or overpowering/generic beats in order to create a palpable melody.

I, for one, had definitely almost fallen into such a lull a few months back, having tired out the collection of the few decent R&B and Neo-Soul albums from this past year or two. I was about to pull a Nasir Jones and declare the cultures dead.

But the fat lady was yet to sing.

Pic Property of BET

Maxwell, although neither fat, nor a lady, hadn’t sung quite yet either. When he eventually did, he put the genres back onto my regular rotation. Initially, it came to me in one of those Archimedean “Eureka” moments while I was looking for a song to cap off a slow jam playlist I was working on. One of my co-workers noticed me jolt, to life and began peeking over my shoulder. She then proceeded to proclaim her adoration for the once afro-puffed crooner, and requested his discography. Read the rest of this entry »