As I mentioned the other day, under certain conditions and moods, old favorites become fodder for nostalgia, with the songs sparking daydreams about seemingly simpler times. We hear ourselves at this or that age, picture old friends and loved ones in our mind’s eye, recall late-night hijinks and adventures—and, for whatever reason, the wistfulness pleases us. It’s a happy sadness, similar to the emotions old photo albums engender.
Yet, while on a solo tour of grocery stores yesterday afternoon, I found myself driving the Mazda3 Time Machine down the highway to decades long past on the strength not of an old classic, but a new release. Flowers, the latest long player from Durand Jones & the Indications, conjures the smooth yet taut sounds of mid-1970s R&B, when such stalwarts as the Stylistics, William DeVaughn, Roberta Flack, and Barry White shared soulful serenades and soliloquies over the FM dial. The only thing missing is the staccato burst of ill-placed static.
Though memories are woven into the melodies, the present is as well, with the lyrics tackling timeless themes. Flowers, in short, is one of those albums that you press play on and, once it ends, press play on it again. It’s mostly about love and loss, the gritty and the gloss, even the dross, that make up life. Because Jones and drummer Aaron Frazer take turns singing lead, it also conjures radio from back in the day, when late-night deejays picked platters with artful precision. Silky sounds are followed by satin sorrows, the Stylistics leading into the Chi-Lites leading into the O’Jays. “Paradise” longs for an ex, “Lovers’ Holiday” celebrates a shared daydream, while “I Need the Answer” ponders an existential question: “Why do the burdens of the world sit on my chest?/Why do we take and take until there’s nothing left?” The low-key “Flower Moon,” for its part, delves into matters of the heart. “Really Want to Be With You” dives headfirst into what might best be called unrequited infatuation.
“Been So Long” finds the band, which took a bit of a break after their last album, Private Space (both Jones and Frazer released solo sets), reunited and feeling so good; it’s safe to say that, like William DeVaughn, they’re thankful for what they’ve got. “Everything,” on the other hand, finds Frazer grateful for how his better half sees not just him, but the world around them. “Rust and Steel,” meanwhile, harkens back to Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, with Jones channeling his inner Teddy Pendergrass in a lament about the love he lost. “If Not for Love” explores how the world feels empty without a special someone, while the bittersweet “Without You” finds that special someone making both Jones and Frazer feel brand new—but only realizing it in retrospect. It’s a song of heartache and heartbreak, of hoping against hope that she (or he) can and will forgive you for your transgressions.
The band—Jones, Frazer and guitarist Blake Rhein, plus Stephen Okonski on keyboards, Michael Isvara Montgomery on bass, and assorted others on background vocals and brass—wrote the bulk of the songs while recording in Rhein’s Chicago studio. The result is retro soul at its best. It’s a perfect summer album.
The Old Grey Cat 