Review Summary: Don't make the singer nervous. Get on your feet.
I've always had a penchant for 60's soul - something about it is so warm and yet so lean. If I had to evaluate artists based on favourite songs, Pickett probably wouldn't rank up with Otis Redding and Sam Cooke. But damn if this album isn't just SO consistent. Sometimes you get a great cheeseburger - then you try the chips and they're just stodge. Or the shake is thin. Or the onion rings are slimy inside. On this record, the chips are golden. The shake has depth. The onion rings are fluffy and crispy.
Normally, I'd be a bit put off by so many covers, but Pickett equals or betters all his influences here, and fills out all the arrangements with flourishes you didn't know were lacking. This is most noticeable on his opening Chris Kenner covers. While Kenner's original "Land of 1000 Dances" and "Something You Got" are all woozy dance floor closers (and fantastic, don't get me wrong), Pickett is opening the night up with a lightning storm of relentless pocket. Drums are front and center on everything - muscular but musical. Where the original just wobbles to conclusion, Pickett gives "1000 Dances" a fitting coda with crushing rolls and a splintered wood vocal.
Halfway through is the signature song, and starts the run of original material. "In the Midnight Hour" is pretty much perfect. Not sure how you get something to sound so jerky, and so seductive. Pickett doesn't load his album with weak syrupy tracks as was sometimes the case on soul records of the period - he moves on to the sinister groove of "Ninety-Nine and One-Half". That's not to say there isn't sweetness here, but the quality doesn't drop.
The playing is sublime (unsurprising considering the roster). There isn't a bad, overblown moment in sight, and nothing has aged. Pickett is a joy to listen to as a singer - he rasps with the best of them, but he can go clear and high when required to. All texture all the time, and all instinct. Even when he's showboating, you have to fire up the originals to see where he's doing it, 'caus it just feels like it was meant to be. The overriding vibe from all the performances is that delivery is everything.
There's not much else to say about it - it's all charisma, confidence and strut. Pickett would struggle with addiction and anger for the rest of his life, but in 1966, it was all just promise. One might feel that the title is a little uninspired, but when you crank the volume on this, you can feel that excitement coming from the floorboards to your heels through soul osmosis.
