Terry Callier

There are records that make their own history and belong only to themselves. A separate universe defines them from the first note to the last, in a kind of unrepeatable and, in some ways, almost inexplicable spell. "What Color Is Love" is one of those records.

We're toward the end of the Sixties, and soul music is the pride of Black America. It's the soul of a people, the thing that, more than anything else, gives warmth to a spirit so battered during those dark yet always hopeful years. Motown singles increasingly dominate the national scene, and Berry Gordy Jr.'s label is the Olympus toward which the genre's leading names all aspire. Diana Ross's Supremes have already entered legend. Marvin Gaye is about to shed his skin and stop being seen as merely a "Love Man". "I Heard It Through The Grapevine" is already in circulation, and the world is getting ready to discover the new face soul music is about to take on.

Amid all this fine chart-shredding chaos, there's a young Chicago musician named Terry Callier standing somewhat apart, guitar in hand as ever, trying to shift the very coordinates of that music, attempting to win over labels like Prestige with a string of tapes and to seduce audiences with a formula as spare as it is effective — one built simply on a heavier dose of folklore and orchestral flourish laid over a carefully crafted, still honeyed melody.

The raw yet precious debut album "The New Folk Sound of Terry Callier" was actually recorded in 1965, but wasn't released until three years later, without Callier's knowledge; he would go on to leave the label he'd worked so hard to secure, run by Bob Weinstock, preferring the more attentive Cadet Records, which had already been courting him for months. The young Terry was thus forced to split his time between his native Chicago and New York for a string of concerts, still unaware that he would one day reach the very summit of soul music in its most refined form.

1972 arrives, and the single "Ordinary Joe" launches Callier's second album, "Occasional Rain". Despite the song's modest success, the attempt only partly pays off, and sales fall short of expectations. Terry Callier's music is a blend of sophistication and accessibility, and audiences of the time, perhaps too accustomed to the sheer immediacy of the vast majority of Motown singles, struggle to follow the lofty paths he charts. More patience and sacrifice are still needed. Callier knows it, and he doesn't give up. But success will perhaps come too late to be fully savored. That same year, Cadet extends him further trust, and what follows is now regarded as one of the greatest masterpieces in the history of soul music.

"What Color Is Love" is an ecstasy of sound and orchestral detail rarely so carefully crafted or so exceedingly refined in a "soul" record. Jon Lucien's "Rashida" will probably remain the only production of the era comparable in certain respects to the work at hand, whether in the precision of its nuances, the elegance of its melody and rhythm, or the unmatched "symphonic" warmth sustained throughout each track. The stunning, sensual photograph on the cover signals an outward exoticism and a hidden, reflective expressiveness that breaks free from the usual glossy, Black-music conventions of the era. All Callier needs are three backing singers, a French horn, a bass, a violin, two guitars, two bongos, a drum kit and a harp to bring to life a spectacle intensely unique of its kind.

The Harper-esque arpeggio that opens "Dancing Girl" is intense and understated. Callier moves in the shadows, evoking and imploring the heavenly presence of a girl dancing blissfully in the darkness of our existence; the atmosphere slowly heats up, opening into a vaguely jazzy orchestral swell that explodes in the finale, before returning to the opening verse, as if to close a circle of passion and daring innocence. Even more vibrant and passionate is the following "What Color Is Love". "Is it wrong or is it right? Is it black or is it white? What color is love? Is it here or is it there? Is it really everywhere? What color is love?": Callier tiptoes through the gates of heaven, asking in a warm, strikingly heartfelt voice what colors love comes in, and how far apart we truly are from the noblest part of our own soul. Is it as distant as a star? Is it as mighty as a mountain, or as deep as a fountain? A poignant violin and a barely-touched harp accompany him through this profound unease.

The much-praised boogie of "You Goin' Miss Your Candyman" then serves to stir things up. A memorable bassline, taut and prominently displayed, with horns and drums adding heat and enthusiasm to the building rhythmic gallop. It's the folk-rooted soul of Terry Callier that fills the space with a cry that's never strangled, always fueled by a burning set of lungs. The musician and the man chase after themselves, and their own sun. Their own source of energy.

Softer, sunnier tones instead introduce the achingly sweet "Just As Long As We're In Love", a romantic ballad arranged in perfect Motown style, much like the even more serene, pastoral "I'd Rather Be With You". Meanwhile, through the delicate rhythmic interplay of "Ho Tsing Mee (A Song Of The Sun)", Callier raises the tone and the pathos with supreme class, amid barely perceptible flights of harp and that unmistakable orchestral glow placed with surgical precision in the background. The divine charge finally spends itself, closing in the best possible way with the concluding "You Don't Care". It's practically a hymn to life and happiness that Terry Callier wants to offer the whole world. An intense, renewed optimism is carried forward in chorus by three angels and the notes of his guitar, never again so pure and celestial.

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26/05/2013