Happy 15th Anniversary to Lynden David Hall’s third & final studio album In Between Jobs, originally released April 25, 2005.
Note: ‘In Between Jobs’ is not currently available via major streaming services, hence the absence of embedded audio below.
Shrouded in the mists of time, obscured by the restless nights of parenthood and shadowy faces from a 20-year teaching career, lurks a memory of younger days and musical wonderment. A memory confirmed by a dusty box’s contents hidden away in a dark, spider-web covered corner of our loft.
Sifting through the detritus of a life lived, seemingly, a million years ago, a slim booklet caught my eye—confirmation of what my jaded memory had conjured up. There, amongst files filled with university papers, old letters and keepsakes, was the programme for the Essential Festival of July 2000.
Normally averse to the whole notion of festivals, I’d been lured in by the promise of a lineup that actually reflected my musical tastes. Top of the bill that day was James Brown—the actual, legendary Godfather of Soul and Funk himself. Sure, his time on stage was more cape-based histrionics than splits, twirls and yelps, but I can say that I saw him. Others acts that day included Angie Stone, Rahzel (the human beatbox), UK chart behemoth Gabrielle and “a first time around the block,” Jamelia.
The reason I’d kept the programme though, was not necessarily as a keepsake but because there emblazoned on the thirteenth page of it, was the only autograph I’ve ever asked for. It wasn’t James Brown, nor indeed any of the aforementioned artists. Instead it was somebody who was completely unassuming and slightly bewildered by my request—Lynden David Hall.
Lynden David Hall was in the very first set of graduates from the “BRIT” School for Performing Arts that would go on to include such luminaries as Amy Winehouse and Adele, but he never reached those dizzying heights. Instead his career was restricted by the familiar constraints of musical trends misaligning, industry cluelessness and ignorant attitudes to UK soul acts. More tragically though, he passed away in February 2006 after complications resulting from treatment for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at the hideously young age of 31.
His career had started well—for a black soul artist nothing could beat being signed by Trevor Nelson to Cooltempo records and his debut album Medicine 4 My Pain (1997) seemed set to lend Hall the same acclaim and record sales that his influences (among them D’Angelo) had commanded. The material certainly merited it. Instead though he garnered buzz, critical success and even became the first British performer to win “Best Male Artist” in venerable magazine Blues And Soul’s 1996 awards.
But these things didn’t add up to that most crucial of details—record sales. His debut missed the UK top 40 by a whisker and his follow-up The Other Side (2000) barely scraped in. What he possessed was not what floated record buyers’ boats in the UK. Where R&B was dominated by machismo and bravado, Hall was sensitive, understated and uninfluenced (on the whole) by any notion of hip-hop.
In writing, performing and producing his own music, he represented a continuation of UK soul, following in the footsteps of Sade, Omar and others, alongside such contemporaries as Beverley Knight and Ms. Dynamite.
Perhaps his most famous moment came between his second and third albums when he performed “All You Need Is Love” during the wedding of Keira Knightley and Chiwetel Ejiofor’s characters in Love Actually. And then, having been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, he set about recording his third (and final) album In Between Jobs.
Released by the independent label Random Records, having been dropped by Cooltempo, it stumbled into the top 200 albums as he continued to be resolutely unmoved by popular movements and fads. Instead, the album has echoes of sounds that resonate in today’s R&B/soul landscape. The jazzy guitar lines, insistent ‘boom-clack’ and laid-back rap/spoken word style of “Eventually” makes it a foreshadowing of the work Tom Misch and Loyle Carner are currently doing—the south London twang is unmistakable.
At just 10 songs, the length of the album reflects the sensibilities that raised and influenced Hall —there’s no bloated filler and even less sign of guest artists or rappers lending a verse or two to boost his profile. Raised in the gospel church, Hall had the wealth of that tradition coursing through his veins but also the humility and reflection that came with it. Even the very title of the album revels in the understated crisis of a man between record labels and entangled in the fight for his life.
“Don’t Hide Your Heart” sets the tone perfectly—that naturally warm and soothing Fender Rhodes piano, the jazzy guitar runs and his angelically yearning vocals combine to perfection. “Stay Faithful” lifts the pace a little as he wholly devotes himself to his wife, while bold horns and an elastic mid-tempo groove permeate throughout the title track, during which he describes life as a struggling artist: “Ever been five minutes late, chastised by someone half your age / Young, dumb and highly strung, acting like he’s on the stage.”
There are a couple of tracks that are not hard to view differently through the prism of his not-so-distant passing. “Still Here With You” is all luscious harmonies and gently soothing acoustic guitar lines and the simple shuffle of percussion on “Blessings” combines with piano to create a beautiful paean to his wife with the heartbreaking line: “Everyday is a blessing with you, I know.”
The highlight of the album is the neck-snapping groove of “Memories and Souvenirs,” with the mere hint of plucked strings and increasingly florid guitar lines, but there is joy in each and every corner. On “(If You Ain’t) Comfortable,” he lyrically invokes the spirits of Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye but of the two, the latter is the most obvious touchstone. His falsetto slides sumptuously throughout and the vocal layering is most reminiscent of Gaye’s work with Leon Ware.
There are a million (stupid) reasons why this (and his other work) didn’t reach more ears and hearts, but there’s one gigantic reason why it should—the quality of the writing and musicianship. He refused to play to fads and features, instead leaning on his craft as his influences had before him, to create a sound unique to him—a British spin on neo-soul that deserved greater success.
Lynden David Hall occupies a vital spot in the family tree of British soul music and as such his work, including this album, should be cherished. May it live to see more love.