To become a classical solo-artist, there is a rule of thumb about the hurdle of the 10.000th hour. Those who haven’t passed it in their youth will – statistically – never make it to the front rows of an orchestra. That rule roughly translates into 4-5 years with daily practice-shifts of 6-8 hours. It’s like Stravinsky said: Success consists of 10% inspiration and 90% transpiration. In order to become a world-class soul-artist, it takes just the same amount of persistent commitment. However, it doesn’t take place in well protected back rooms, but on the road, counting just as many miles of (wrong) ways of life. Comparable to HipHop, one of the main ingredients for making it in soul is one’s Street Credibility – without it, you’ll easily make an ass of yourself. And Charles Bradley is really not short of street-cred! For decades, him and his career have been knee-deep (or even up to their necks) in dirt and have moved forward little to not at all. However, that’s exactly the situation to not let your head hang low. And even though he never gave up the hope for a better tomorrow altogether, he probably would have never imagined the old stinkhorn to turn into an evergreen redwood-tree for generations to admire, despite all the fertilizing he had done over the years. With Charles Bradley’s success, the miracle of life has taught us another lesson, and now gives us the second crop of those raw soul-fruits the Rare-Groove-community can’t get enough of since »No Time For Dreaming«. The lyrics performed in a similar bitter-sweet-tone, like sugar for the fans’ ears, the record contains even some overripe tunes, conjuring up pictures from the psychedelic late seventies. The record is wondrously wonderful, just as enjoyable in a club as on a bright clearing in the woods.
Victim Of Love
