Lou Bond
Lou Bond

Lou Bond cannot be considered in the same league as other artists populating the Music Business, whether present or future.
So say the liner notes of the only, rare self-titled album from 1974, bearing the We Produce label, a subsidiary of the glorious Stax. And it's credible; except that, with the due exception of a few music enthusiasts and industry professionals, no one remembered who Lou Bond was anymore. Yet this black troubadour, with a velvet voice, author of poetic, dreamy, sometimes sharp and abrasive lyrics, against all kinds of war or subtle control of information and human minds, had deeply impressed none other than the Chess bosses, who decided to sign him for some singles, unfortunately ended up forgotten, gathering dust on the shelves of the aforementioned production company.

But, fortunately, there are still those who love music and pure emotion, like the fabulous label Light in The Attic, which, after Sixto Rodriguez, restored to Lou Bond the much-desired visibility, reissuing in 2009, that hidden treasure from far-off 1974, a blissful crossroads between Stax brand soul, Folk, and Bacharach-style Pop, aided by the Memphis Symphony Orchestra.
“Lucky Me” is pure urban poetry, full of nostalgia and touching acoustic preciousness worthy of the best Bert Sommer (I could have mentioned Tim Buckley, but who doesn't know him? One more reason to discover another lesser-known, but brilliant folksinger), while “Why Must Our Eyes Be Turned Backwards” distills vitriolic words aimed at religious imperialism, sung with a dreamy falsetto à la Jackie Wilson, with orchestral accompaniment that seems borrowed from Isaac Hayes or Marvin Gaye's “What’s Goin’ on.”
But the real sound uppercut lies in the ten intense minutes of “To the Establishment” (already sampled by artists like Prodigy and Outkast), a touching ballad led by a bass that prowls catlike, climbing higher and higher, reaching an apotheosis of horns and Orchestra, while Lou Bond sings ecstatic, as if Arthur Lee were reuniting with Terry Callier for a continuation of the vibrant “Dancing Girl,” a touching dedication to the legendary Charlie Parker, just a year before.

The splendid reinterpretation of Carly Simon’s classic “That’s the Way I’ve Always Heard it Should Be” and the daring “Come on Snob,” which admonishes the self-righteous not to “turn your nose up disdainfully to breathe different air because the latter is polluted,” a bit Nick Drake, a bit Sixto Rodriguez, hand back to us a true jewel, which had to wait fifty years to receive its due recognition, as it happens with the greatest works of art. The reissue should still be available on Amazon, at reasonable prices. Get it, or we can write to Light In the Attic to re-reissue it. Salut, your boy, crazy, a little wise.