Once populated by a few astute, diligent individuals, the territory of neo-classic soul has, in a pleasant turn, gradually increased in number, and one of the current strongholds in the field is ATA Records. Based in Leeds, UK, the label’s discography is still slim enough for folks just getting clued-in to catch up on, though waiting around is not advisable. On May 25, The Magnificent Tape Band, featuring ATA owner-operators Neil Innes and Pete Williams, unveils The Subtle Art of Distraction on LP, CD, and digital, this debut full-length benefiting from a deep, fruitful collaboration with crackerjack vocalist Rachel Modest and a desire to extend possibilities rather than merely replicate the glories of yore.
If you’re picking up a retro-futurist/ BBC Radiophonic workshop/ ’70s Penguin paperbacks cover design vibe from the sleeve art for The Subtle Art of Distraction, that’s right on the money, as a stated objective of Neil Innes and Pete Williams is for The Magnificent Tape Band to combine the richness of psychedelic soul with aspects of British library music, though the mingling of the two is much subtler than the LP’s jacket might suggest.
Those familiar with the self-titled 2015 album from The Sorcerers will be familiar with Innes and Williams’ adroitness of touch, as they not only wrote and produced the whole thing but played bass and guitar across the album. In the process, they successfully tapped into the spirit of Ethio-jazz, enough so that Mulatu Astatke is a fan.
Similar to the conception of this record, The Sorcerers additionally dug into ’60s-’70s Euro horror soundtracks for inspiration, and a general aesthetic (if not specific sound) carries over to the work of The Magnificent Tape Band. The biggest difference is vocal, for The Sorcerers, at least on their debut, exist as an instrumental affair. Throughout The Subtle Art of Distraction, Sheffield-born Leeds-based singer Rachel Modest is front and center.
Her prior collab with The Magnificent Tape Band, the 2015 A-side “Patterns of My Mind” was a potent serving of soul classique, but it was really Modest’s own ATA single from the following year, “I Try” b/w “Forbidden Love,” that effectively drove home a voice to be reckoned with. As is the label’s mode of operation, Innes and Williams handled production on the 45.
This LP’s sturdy (but refreshingly questioning) opening track “Let the Church Say” emphasizes the vocalist’s gospel choir background, cultivating a gradually rising depth of emotion through a refrain of “Hallelujah” and a brief non-trite engagement with the standard “Amazing Grace,” all with no trace of strain. That the music’s full-bodied ‘70s atmosphere broadens the show without stealing it is impressive and further indicates what’s in store.
The band, complete with reeds and brass, is foregrounded a bit more on “Danger,” as the opening horn motif highlights the library approach, but with no audible grafting. The track is irrefutably funky, but it simmers with a deep groove instead of splashing out of the pot with an excess of busy execution or needless vamping.
Modest’s bio cites the inspiration of such reliable soul figures as Dusty Springfield and Dee Dee Warwick, these associations tipping off her significant range, and the settings here explore her abilities to full advantage. This is nowhere more apparent than in “When I Saw You,” as the harp and acoustic guitar lushness fuses productively with a Brit library-esque passage that’s nicely enhanced with Modest’s wordless vocals.
Interestingly, the cited influences for the track are Bowie and Gainsbourg; that these references didn’t enter my mind prior to reading (and upon further listen, they still don’t) underscores the creative health of The Magnificent Tape Band’s endeavor. I did absorb mild Delfonics tendencies straightway during “Requiem” as the resonating fuzz guitar, tasteful but not mimicking, highlights the attention the psychedelic soul.
Ditto side two’s opener “Heading Toward Catastrophe,” the template of Motown psych-soul obvious and yet with instrumental textures a few shades darker. It’s in the terrific “Not That Kind of Woman” that Innes and Williams hit a middle ground between library music and the symphonic style of Isaac Hayes, though there are other pleasures, such as Joost Hendrickx’s attention to the hi-hat and Modest’s successfully hanging through a six-plus minute running time.
She shifts without difficulty into the tougher environs of “Black Tiger,” the adaptability only aided by the cohesiveness of the music here and from track to track. Although its palette has clearly been widened by hindsight, The Subtle Art of Distraction still impacts the ear as a coherent statement rather than a bunch of stylistic hopping around.
This even applies to finale “Pantomime,” which holds The Magnificent Tape Band’s strongest display of Southeastern US soul grit; it cinches up that ears attuned to the happenings of Daptone and Big Crown will want to investigate the activities of ATA across the pond if they haven’t done so already.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
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