Joel Culpepper
Sgt Culpepper
Mr Bongo
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Being a Black British soul singer is a tough gig. The last 40 years are filled with great artists with all the tools necessary who have struggled in one way or another to get the rewards (both financial and critical) their talents and skills deserve. The tragic tale of Ephraim Lewis, the undervalued genius of Omar, and the unique, redoubtable vocals of Mica Paris all point toward a system that fights Black talent rather than encourages it. And these artists are just the tip of the iceberg.
Fighting against the weight of history to establish himself as the real deal is South London born Joel Culpepper. His debut album Sgt Culpepper has been a long time coming, given that his mixtape debut came in 2009, but it is only relatively recently that he has fully devoted his time and energy to his burgeoning career.
His previous life was as a Learning Mentor in schools, working with children to develop skills to help them reach their potential despite any obstacles in their way—skills that he himself will no doubt find helpful in navigating the fickle, sometimes callous world of the music business.
The album’s title is an obvious sign of his confidence—you don’t invite those links to be made if you’re unsure, even if comparisons are not necessarily the motivation. The same confidence is evident in his vocal approach on the album. Here Culpepper seems happier to twist and contort his voice into new, more exciting shapes and tones than on his previous work. His falsetto in particular gets a stern workout and it emerges with a raspy edge that (at times) brings to mind Sly Stone and Van Hunt. He is much more willing to turn the freak up on his vocals to add even more character to the material.
This material is predominantly written by Culpepper, but some key contributors hold the key to the album. One of them is stalwart of UK chart success Guy Chambers, a man most famous for his epoch defining pop with Robbie Williams around the turn of the century in the UK. But the major contributor is the executive producer Swindle. His last album marshalled the materials of soul, funk and hip-hop to create a winningly fresh sound and here he takes overarching control to do the same thing for Culpepper.
Album opener “Tears of a Crown” is a Chambers-penned piece that sounds like a soulful Bond theme complete with dramatic horns and backing vocals during the chorus. There’s a lovely chugging funk quality to it that sets the album’s stall out from the beginning. Next up is “Return” that bounds along with a rumbling bass and delicate twinkling keys and gives him the chance to stretch that falsetto in some of those interesting, rougher directions.
“W.A.R.” is a totally different beast though—it’s a swaggering four-to-the-floor stomper that sees Culpepper unleash the breathy, raspy quality to his voice. Nestled in amongst it though is a lyric that sums up his position in life and the aims he has for the album: “Don’t call me boy / I’m no n***a, no / I know what my country wants / A positive figure, that’s me!” Brazen horns (reminiscent of “Boogie Nights”), soul claps and a distorted Funkadelic-like spoken outro round things out. His influences are obvious, but he carries them with aplomb and an enthusiasm that is infectious.
Elsewhere, “Poetic Justice” bumps nastily into earshot with a spoken word intro between two (failed) lovers, while Culpepper mourns the loss of love and yearns for new shoots to appear while stretching his falsetto to its limit. Noodling away beautifully on the guitar in the background is Tom Misch and it all feels made perfectly to measure.
The wildest vocal ride is on “Thought About You”—a song that lopes ebulliently while he delivers the lines in an awkward, angular way. It’s the kind of song that feels like the delivery of every word has been thought about precisely and it contributes to a real highlight of the album. There is something of Tears For Fears about the intro to “Kisses,” but it soon settles into another languid groove, while his vocals vacillate from one extreme to the next—shredded falsetto one second, neutral, unfeeling spoken word the next.
On “It’s In Your Sex” he channels his falsetto forebears with a quivering, shimmering chorus replete with wanting and desire. As with other Chambers penned tracks, there’s always a little more “pop” to proceedings (than I would prefer), but that notwithstanding, Culpepper does a fine job of invoking the great falsetto love gods of the past. All the 1980s soul production values get an airing on “Remember,” even down to the vocoder and it makes for a suitably positive blast of inspiration.
The best, though, is saved for last with the lovely reflection on his past life working with children on “Black Boy.” He paints a picture of a defiant Black pupil working hard in a system that doesn’t work for him, undaunted by all the struggles that teenage life has to offer him. It is the best lyrical composition on the album, but also offers the best showcase for the whole of Culpepper’s range and it creates a perfect package of him at his best—soulful Black pride.
There is more than enough here to repay the years spent toiling away and give Culpepper the success that has proved elusive for others. A key part in that is the network of artists and producers he has at his side—Swindle controls the overall feel of the album with ease and clarity, musicians like Misch offer their contributions freely and with style and panache and Culpepper centers it all with his dexterous and impassioned vocals.
Everything is here, let’s just hope the record buying public are more receptive to a deserving artist than they have been in the past.
Notable Tracks: “Black Boy” | “Poetic Justice” | “Thought About You” | “W.A.R.”
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