This site writes often about the intersection of authenticity and nostalgia, especially when it comes to creating and appreciating art. The conversation is a journey overflowing with land mines, checkpoints, and gatekeeping. It starts with the tired yet perpetually relevant canard: “There’s nothing new under the sun.” We can then follow that concept to the misattributed cliché about great artists stealing. Along the way, fusillades of “This artist did it better!” and “That artist had better reviews, sales, or awards” rain down upon you.
If we’re lucky, we arrive at the conclusion that it’s OK to repurpose, reconstitute, and revisit older ideas. Good art of value should be appreciated outside of the immediate time frame in which it first appeared. It’s the literal reason we have museums! But far too often, our journey gets sidetracked by nattering debates about “realness,” trend-hopping, or – God forbid – the merits of recreating a time-worn sound just because you like it as a fan of music. Those conversations are tiring, and I hate them.
Artists should make what they like, and they should make sure it’s good. That’s it. End of story.
Which is why I jumped for joy when I started listening to Stand for Myself, the brand-new album from Yola. This smoky British alto has created a soaring tribute to soul, gospel, and country while placing her own stamp upon those genres. Released on Easy Eye Sound, these 12 songs overflow with grit and longing. Yola expresses the sort of sexual maturity and strong sense of self that only comes from wrestling with your internal and external demons. It’s Stax meets Muscle Shoals meets prayer meetings at church. It’s Rosetta Tharpe meets Sharon Jones meets Al Green. And I’m here for each and every moment.
What I love most about this entire project is how it aims for both the heart and the feet.
With “Dancing Away in Tears,” she belts out, “I can’t go and do it all again and pretend that we were never something more,” a raw sentiment familiar to the love-lorn. On “Diamond Studded Shoes,” we hear soul revue mixed with anti-capitalist invective: “You beat it into us like a hammer. So don’t you tell me it’ll be alright when we know it isn’t.”
A passionate call to claim freedom from your past, “Break the Bough” compels people to “Forget every distant memory, every foe you dreamed to kill, every emotion you never let spill.” My favorite torch song on the album, “Like a Photograph” pleads with a lover that the couple not waste any of their time together. Yola passionately declares, “If I ever waste another minute simply for refusing to be in it, show me back in rain or come shine.”
Yola embraces all of her rough edges while exuding maximum confidence. But she also wants to get your body moving to the amazing music, which features ‘60s flair and ‘70s sensitivity. Much like the work of Houston-area act The Suffers, her fantastic highs and gutty lows are infused with a rich warmth that compels you to strut around the room.
Stellar musicianship is the name of the game, and Yola has surrounded herself with outstanding players.
It would be easy to applaud the jubilant grooves and tender moods, but I find even greater joy in how the music refuses tawdry excess. Yes, these songs possess a dynamite vintage aesthetic, but they avoid sounding like a cheap copy because of the textured arrangements and instrumentation.
The production of The Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach features a dense core of blues guitar and shuffling drums straight out of Laurel Canyon. But it was the the earthy organ, sultry piano, twanging lap steel, delicate horns, and layered percussion that truly set my heart ablaze. I would also be remiss not to give special attention to the deft flow of tempos that occurs throughout the track list. Balance and proportion are key to earning and keeping my attention.
Stand for Myself projects strength and ambition, as Yola’s full-throated declarations pursue a love between equals. Not only does she want to dance close with her lover, but she also wants to hold them closer. Her raspy, aching voice pulses with intensity, but she will not back down from seeking and finding the life she knows she deserves. This is not an act. It’s not a show. She has embraced a decades-old sounds and propelled into the future.