Soul’s Sweet Return

It’s hard to pinpoint just when gospel music merged with rhythm & blues to create soul music, but there’s no question that the glory period for the new style was in the ‘60s and early ‘70s, when it helped define the escalating aspirations of black America.

Whether you trace the music’s commercial birth to the church-driven celebration of Faye Adams’ “Shake a Hand” in 1953 or Ray Charles’ more worldly “I’ve Got a Woman” two years later, the mix of sacred and secular sparked a passionate, all-consuming style that inspired a generation of musicians.

It was a time of Curtis Mayfield’s “Keep on Pushing,” Sam Cooke’s “A Change Is Gonna Come” and Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On?”--key parts of one of the most concentrated bursts of excellence in modern American pop music.

Like the blues before it, however, soul music wasn’t just the sound of protest and change. In such landmark records as Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay,” Charles’ “I Can’t Stop Loving You” and Aretha Franklin’s “Respect,” soul artists examined everything from relationships to self-affirmation.

But times eventually changed, and soul fell from favor. By the late ‘70s, young artists and audiences had moved on, the way their parents had moved on from the blues. There was a thirst for new heroes and new sounds, and much of the commentary and passion of soul would eventually find a new outlet in hip-hop.

Soul music’s legacy, however, was too rich to be forgotten, and it has slowly been creeping back into black music for a decade now. It’s not the pure, horn-driven, foot-stomping soul music of the ‘60s this time, but a music tempered by hip-hop and other contemporary strains.

Macy Gray’s “I Try” and Alicia Keys’ “Fallin,”’ two of the biggest hits of the last 18 months, are both scintillating examples of the classic soul tradition. There are also traces of soul in the work of such gifted artists as Lauryn Hill, D’Angelo, Erykah Badu, Maxwell, Mary J. Blige and Jill Scott.

But no single album during this neo-soul movement has embraced the soul experience as fully as Angie Stone’s “Mahogany Soul,” due in stores Nov. 6 from J Records.

Where her contemporaries salute the legacy of Mayfield and Gaye in occasional tracks, Stone is so immersed in the soul tradition that you feel the spirit of the masters in almost every number.

“Wish I Didn’t Miss You” and “Bottles & Cans” are tales of romantic turmoil that could stand beside the best of ‘60s and ‘70s soul records. The former builds on a pulsating sample from the O’Jays’ “Backstabbers” but has no trouble asserting its own identity. “Bottles & Cans” carries the kind of seductive soul grooves found on the Memphis recordings of Al Green.

The best example of Stone’s feel for soul tradition, however, is “Brotha,” the first single from the album. The song, which Stone co-wrote, is a statement of support for black men that seems revolutionary at a time when confrontation between the sexes has become a dominant theme in hip-hop, be it the misogyny of male rappers or the “Bills, Bills, Bills” and “No Scrubs” retorts of the women.

“This song is very important to me because I think we are at an all-time low in terms of male bashing and female bashing,” Stone said in a recent interview. “That’s not a healthy message to be passing along to the younger generation. You don’t want everyone coming up thinking every woman is a [prostitute] or every man is a dog or no good. Our responsibility as artists is to keep a reality check on what is really going on.”

Like Mayfield, one of her chief influences, Stone sings about issues of the black community with the passion of a cultural messenger. It’s a role she’s had for years.

“I think I was one of these people you can say was before her time,” says Stone, who has been struggling for two decades to find her place in the music business. “I don’t think the industry was ready for soul music again. They were in a fad stage. It was like a flavor of the month. Everybody was going, ‘What’s happening now? Who’s happening now? Who can we copy?’

“But I think they have begun to run out of fads and realized that it’s time to go back to music with some depth to it, and that’s when soul started to be appreciated again.”

In contrast to the relatively rapid rise of 20-year-old Keys, Stone, who is in her late 30s, has put in a long, frustrating apprenticeship--a journey that sometimes led to artistic compromise but eventually strengthened her bond to soul music.

Like most soul singers, the Columbia, S.C., native started singing in church, where her father sang in a gospel quartet. Stone was also intrigued as a teenager by the sounds of hip-hop, and she moved to New York to pursue a music career.

She was a member of Sequence, which enjoyed some success in the early ‘80s as the first female rap trio. Subsequent steps included playing saxophone in Lenny Kravitz’s band, singing in the soul trio Vertical Hold and writing songs for Mary J. Blige and SWV. Her most important credit, however, was as co-writer and co-producer of D’Angelo’s heralded 1995 debut album, “Brown Sugar.”

The two were also lovers, and they had a son, Michael D’Angelo Archer II, who is now 4. (Stone also has a teenage daughter from a brief marriage.) Although the relationship with D’Angelo ended in 1998, Stone credits him with helping her define her musical style.

After Lauryn Hill’s success with the Fugees and on her own, record companies became more open to soul-minded artists, and Stone was signed by Clive Davis’ Arista Records. Her debut album, 1999’s “Black Diamond,” was a critical and commercial success.

But the album lacked the probing intensity and character of the new release. Stone, who came along with Davis to his new J Records label, says the difference is that she had more artistic control over “Mahogany Soul.” She again works with a battery of songwriters and producers, but it’s strictly her vision this time.

Several of the songs are about the breakup of a relationship, and it’s not too hard to guess which one. “Life Goes On,” which she co-wrote, is the most personal and uplifting. “Hey, boo, here’s to thanking you,” she sings. “For all that we’ve been through / It’s taught me how to love myself. “

“I would never say anything negative about that relationship,” she says, referring to her time with D’Angelo.

“I grew into the woman I am today with him, and I grew into the artist I am with him. There were times when I got confused over what I should be doing musically because people in the record business said I had to do this or that to succeed. D’Angelo helped inspire me to be myself. He brought out the best in me, and I think I brought out the best in him at the time.”

Elsewhere in the album, Stone has fun with soul music tradition. In “The Ingredients of Love,” she offers a good-natured recipe for an effective relationship (“a pinch of honesty, a liter of respect”). The gritty “Time of the Month,” which Stone sings in the soul-baring style of Aretha Franklin, may be the first PMS commentary by a major artist.

The 70-minute album’s pace could have been sharpened by editing a few of the tracks more tightly. But there is a sense throughout “Mahogany Soul” of real stories, real people, real emotions.

That’s as good a definition as any for true soul music, and the reason why Stone’s music feels so compelling in an era of calculated pop.

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Angie Stone will appear Tuesday at the Conga Room, 5364 Wilshire Blvd., L.A. 8:30 p.m. (323) 938-1696. $15.

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Robert Hilburn, The Times’ pop music critic, can be reached at robert.hilburn@latimes.com.