 Various Artists I should begin by explaining why I bought Best of Soul in the first place, and I realize how much of a freak it reveals me to be: I bought it for the brilliant box. You see, I had just bought a good Bob Dylan bootleg that suffered from somewhat shoddy packaging, and I knew that if I replaced the standard jewel case with a clear brilliant box, it would look fantastic. Trouble is, I couldn't find anywhere that sold brilliant boxes, and I wanted one right away. So after considering the aesthetic ramifications of my actions, I decided to actually purchase a CD just for the clear jewel case. I found this one in the bargain bin of my local Best Buy for $3.99, and figured at worst I'd be out a few bucks, but most likely I could switch the case and still get a dollar or two for the disc at a used CD shop. Either way, I'd have my precious brilliant box. Okay, so none of that is very interesting. It gets funnier. Of course, I sat down to review the thing before getting rid of it, and it was only then that I realized that this was going to be a complete piece of crap. The generic design of the CD art, coupled with the lack of any recording information, immediately made me sit up straight and go "Oh, this is one of THOSE discs!" Sure enough, the ten tracks are pretty much all late-period re-recordings of classic soul songs, mostly by the original artists. The cautious eye would have questioned "Dancing in the Streets" being credited to Martha Reeves but no Vandellas … but I was solely concerned with the condition of the brilliant box. Consider it a public service for me to have exposed this shameless cash-in for bargain-conscious music fans everywhere. I'm like a hard-hitting investigative journalist! Or so I shall tell the IRS in explaining why I tried to write this off under "business expenses." The disc starts off with "My Guy" by Mary Wells – actually done pretty spot-on; the shallow listener wouldn't know the difference. By the time you hit "Hold On I'm Coming" by Sam & Dave, I'd have to say any total Mongoloid would be shaking their head in consternation. Certainly as soon as the karaoke-caliber "Under The Boardwalk" (performed by what I estimate must be Drifters '91) comes on, all but the most miserably clueless or care-free consumer will realize they have been shammed. The disc is padded out with poor-quality live tracks by the Ohio Players, Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, and James Brown, as well as a version of "Tracks of My Tears" by Paul Young (?) … the "best of soul" this is not. As far as I can tell, the only bit of actual soul here is "Down to My Last Heartbreak" by Wilson Pickett, which on any other compilation would be a decent track #19, but here it's track #2 and already at that point extremely refreshing. I can't vouch for when the inferior re-makes were perpetrated, but I'd estimate late 80s/early 90s. Don't be fooled. And listening to the James Brown track ("Sex Machine"), I think it very well might not be James Brown at all, or perhaps it's some guy who is also named James Brown that vaguely sounds like the famous James Brown. In any case, this will not convince anyone of James Brown's genius. Unless they define "genius" as "muffled sound quality, loose band, and probable impersonator singing." I feel sorry for anyone who buys this, sorrier for anyone who doesn't mind it so much. For four bucks, though, I guess it serves its purpose. I just personally don't understand people who shop for music according to price. In general, you really do get what you pay for. In my case, that was a nice, unblemished brilliant box. The Dylan boot does look fantastic, incidentally.
Review by Reggie Hardon |