Old-Line Storyteller Infuses R&B; With Soul

Here’s a guy with bad timing: Salgado was the harmonica player and second-chair lead singer in the Robert Cray Band in the early ‘80s, before Cray broke out of the Northwest to national stardom. Then Salgado landed in Roomful of Blues at a time when that esteemed Rhode Island ensemble was between record deals.

But, as his fourth solo album attests, there is nothing amiss with the Oregon-based singer’s ability. For fans of soul-infused blues, funk and R&B;, “Get Into This” would be just as apt an album title as “Wiggle Outta This.”

Salgado’s husky vocal hues and confident delivery often call to mind Kim Wilson of the Fabulous Thunderbirds; flexibility is one of Salgado’s strengths as he reaches for piercing high-range tones or deploys Cray-like smoothness for contrast.

A combination of Otis Redding and Paul Rodgers (that is, in Rodgers’ strongest incarnation, as singer of the British blues-rock band Free) comes to mind as Salgado sings the sunny opening shuffle, “That’s All a Part of Lovin’ You.” B.B. King’s ebullient vocal character shines through on another ambling, upbeat number, “Beneath the Silver Moon.”

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Salgado’s band is crisp, lean and comfortable whether the mode is dramatic, romantic soul balladry a la Redding (“I Want Everyone to Know”), a dark boogie with shades of John Lee Hooker (“Cookie Dough,” which cooks up a hot ovenful of naked sexual tension), or a smooth, funky, pop-tinged number, “Sweet Jesus Buddha the Doctor,” that alludes to Friedrich Nietzsche to bolster its point that love is forever troublesome.

Like all good old-line R&B; singers, Salgado’s approach emphasizes storytelling above all. There isn’t a millisecond of the meaningless pyrotechnics that define the chart-topping, new-school pop-R&B.; Characters come alive repeatedly.

The acerbic title track is a fine example. Salgado rides his band’s muscular drive to sneer at a cheating lover who wants to make up. But the song’s bridge brings a cinematic flashback in milder hues, Salgado’s voice softening as he recalls the charms that first attracted him. Never mind; he snaps back from that reverie with true nastiness, verging on sadistic glee as he contemplates how he’s going to make her grovel and squirm.

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Masochism gets more than equal time in “Sorry Don’t Mean Nuthin’,” in which an ironically funky groove and a sardonically quacking fuzz guitar comment on the woeful psychological state of the song’s protagonist, who can’t stand a loving relationship because he’s more comfortable with pain. “Feels so right to bleed,” Salgado defiantly intones.

Salgado has good command of the epic, almost operatic emoting of soul yet understands that the idea is subtly to interject the psychological attunement of the blues. What Michael Bolton don’t know, the little guys like Salgado tend to understand. This strong CD makes it obvious who is keeping the classic flame of soul music alive.

* Curtis Salgado plays tonight at the Blue Cafe, 210 Promenade, Long Beach. 9:30 p.m. $10. (562) 983-7111.

Albums are rated on a scale of one star (poor) to four stars (excellent).