#NewMusic: Edgar Jones, Reflections of a Soul Dimension

The elusive Edgar Jones is back with a brand new collection of songs, Reflections of a Soul Dimension (Steropar Records), and for those of you with any sort of soft spot for Northern Soul, this, I guarantee you, will be the most refreshing and exciting thing you’ve heard in years.

But who is Edgar Jones? 

Well, the short version is Scouse cult hero. 

The longer version, a British singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist who was the original bass player for mersey-psych outfit The Stairs, and then The Isrites, The Big Kids, Edgar Jones & The Joneses and Free Peace. Now in his fifties, Jones has been around the block, DJing on the local Liverpool scene for years, and also as a session player for major names like Echo & The Bunnymen’s Ian McCulloch, Modfather Paul Weller, Saint Etienne and Ocean Colour Scene. He’s massively respected within the industry, and in my opinion, one of the most talented cats never to become a household name in contemporary British music. There have been many who have slipped through the net … names like Terry Reid, Matt Deighton, Ten Benson … I could go on. But it’s Edgar Jones that I think of most when that bittersweet question what could have been crops up. The early-90s acid-house boom shafted him. If he’d emerged in 1966 he’d be as big and as legendary as The Kinks, The Small Faces, The Byrds and Gerry & The Pacemakers.

Maybe this could finally be Edgar’s time? 

I first came across Edgar Jones supporting The Who at the Liverpool Summer Pops back in 2006 when Liverpool was re-emerging as a destination for the world’s biggest name acts. His soulful, jazzy, garage-tinged psychedelia just about took my head clean off that night, and I made my way into the lobby, even as a skint student, to buy a copy of his then record, Soothing Music For Stray Cats. That was my drinks money gone, but I’d acquired a record that I’d never have off for twenty years. A record that I’ve just about bullied every music loving friend into getting hold of. A record that only comes along once in a lifetime. A record so imaginative, so diverse, so doo-wappy and funky and slick and fucking cool that you can barely listen to it unless you’re dressed in your best clobber. 

Noel Gallagher said of Soothing Music For Stray Cats: “It bent my head, man. It’s probably one of the best records I have ever heard”. He’s not the only one who wilted over this cult classic. Harry Potter has even championed it, though no amount of magic has taken it where it ought to be. The fact that it didn’t explode is beyond comprehension. The right place, the wrong time. I mean, who wanted a record draped in Glenn Miller, soaked in Thelonious Monk, bobbing softly in The Isley Brothers, funked with Smiley Lewis, nodding at Weller, grooving in the same realm as Arthur Brown, and breathing in everything New Orleans? The chart was full of Take That, Westlife, Scissor Sisters, Justin Timberlake, Shakira and Sandi Thom. I mean what chance did he have? Terrible timing, that’s all.

The Vinyl Reissue edition of Soothing Music For Stray Cats was issued in 2016 as a collaboration with Liverpool’s The Viper Label and Mellowtone Records. Of course, I had to have it. It’s a record that needs to be spinning round a turntable. I always thought that if Soothing Music For Stray Cats was the only classic he ever made, Jones has left the world something very, very special. But now, with the release of Reflections of a Soul Dimension, he’s taken his output and legacy to a whole different place entirely. I’ve been compelled to review this record because, quite frankly, IT MUST BE HEARD.

The album opens with quintessential Northern Soul. Claire Morel, Zoë Kyoti and Rosie Douglas provide those oh so important, angelic backing vocals on Place My Bets On You, and that nostalgic, heart-warming sound is right there: tuba, tambourine, glockenspiel, handclaps … everything we’ve ever come to expect from that legendary, uplifting, epic genre. Jones goes falsetto for the follow up track, I Still Believe In You, which drifts into Marvin Gaye territory, and it’s yet another foot tapping, dancefloor tempting tune just begging for talc and handbags and that recognisable strut and sway.

Coming Back To Me is Bacharach reincarnated. The melody, the staggered drums, the glorious call and response backing vocals, the instrumentation. It’s Burt through and through. Elegant and silk to the ears. That’s talent to write something so beautifully smooth and listenable – to write something that seems so timeless when it’s barely been out two minutes. After about ten listens to this track I felt like my faith in modern music had been restored. 

Ooowee (Is This The End Of Our Road) is a bopper with wicked horns and some clever chord changes. Edgar seems so comfortable singing these songs by this stage in the album. He’s really become a classic soul singer – the 21st-century psych that had infiltrated his previous output has practically gone, but not to the detriment of his songwriting. Nuggets and Pebbles replaced by Wigan Casino and All-Nighter. 

What’s The Matter Baby, one of the stunning album highlights, is pure dance floor patter with direct nods to The Elgins. The strings and horns are sublime. It’s just about the most authentic Northern Soul record I’ve ever heard not to have been produced in the  late 1960s and early 1970s. Thumping with hot-blooded dance energy, the riff-driven This World Today would bring the most stubborn of Northern Soulers to the floor, as would Reflections (Of You And Me), where Edgar’s unique voice has never sounded so good, and an organ hasn’t been so well utilised for decades. 

Nothing Can Change could have been a Walker Brothers classic – it’s got all the pomp and grandeur and tension and mystique that only the likes of Scott Walker could conjure. Dobie Gray could be singing Searching The World at the height of his career, and Edgar’s powerful lament that “there ain’t no justice in this here world” just may refer to his own career trajectory as much as the topical issues that plague us all. This is music way beyond its reach. I have to note the exceptional drums on this track played by Steve Parry, who shows his hand at most things throughout the record, and has evidently been a massively important ingredient in this phenomenal production.

The Shape We’re In is a groovy side-stepper that gives the album a much needed breather, but doesn’t lose touch with the theme; it’s very much a reflection of a soul dimension. The Walls Came Tumbling Down may well be a nod to Weller and his famed Style Council single, but it’s also got that groovy California 60’s feeling about it. The record ends with No Matter What, a tune that I could easily have imagined our own Gerry Marsden writing and performing. “No matter what, I’ll always stand by you,” Jones sings, and yet he’s singing the words of his loyal followers and fans. The Tom Jones esque ending to the record is a triumphant finale to something really very, very exciting indeed. Music like this must be supported, shared, adored, celebrated and indulged.

I’ve come across Edgar many times over the years, playing bass for Weller, DJing in Liverpool clubs and pubs like Lago and The Newington Temple, and cruising up and down Bold Street in his camel skin coat. He’s a figure that lurks in the consciousness of all Liverpool musos who know. He should be lurking in the conscience of everyone who has ever spun a record. 

Edgar Jones, take a bow.

Buy Reflections of a Soul Dimension now on Bandcamp. The vinyl issue is limited to 500 copies.