Durand Jones & The Indications – Flowers

The most exhausting jobs we've yet to devise within capitalism are, in ascending order, as follows: oil rig journeyman, movie theatre janitor, and contemporary soul songwriter. There's an almost patriotic sense of bravery it takes to approach, with open hearts and ears, a sound which has been divined by music gods, conquered, gentrified, historicised, and plundered like soul.

Durand Jones and co. take on the herculean task of writing unique soul and R'n'B tracks every morning at breakfast, and it seems by lunch, the Marvin Gaye-worshipping part of their brains has already taken over. Not only is originality not the point here, it's so disdained in these parts that an executive order for its removal is three days out (for those non-Americans, I am a small child in the backseat with an S.O.S. cardboard sign and you are the truck driver I'm getting the attention of).

Flowers is another lunch-line scoop of hearty 70s soul revivalism from music's most dependable dispensary. It's just on the underside of too pretty for its own good; 'love' is said the prerequisite three times per line, and Durand Jones doesn't just have pipes, he has the whole damn organ in his chest. We have SAULT for restless innovation; Flowers is our nostaglia taking shape. Why not see if all that Motown was as good as you remember it? We've advanced so far that the past is still right here.

Listen to: Flower Moon, Really Wanna Be With You, If Not For Love