“Belle”:
“It’s you that I want but it’s him that I need.” With this lyric, Al Green may have given the most succinct summation of his artistic vision. The tension between the sacred and the profane undergirds all of his work, but never is it so plainly stated as on The Belle Album.
The album marked a new beginning for Green. After the diminishing returns of Full Of Fire and Have A Good Time, it became clear to him that his situation with Mitchell and Hi Rhythm was untenable. Green “came to my house about one o’clock in the morning,” Mitchell remembered. “He said, ‘I’m goin’ gospel,’ and I said, ‘Well, I don’t know anything about Gospel- and I don’t want to know anything about it.’” And just like that, the partnership which had made Green a millionaire and a superstar, that had resulted in some of the greatest music ever recorded, was, for all practical effects, terminated.
Green, convicted as he’d never been before, answered a call from the Lord and purchased a church on Hale Road, less than a mile from Graceland. He christened it the Full Gospel Tabernacle. He’d gotten married to a young gospel singer and organ player named Shirley Anne Kyles Green. He’d built American Music Recording Studio for himself and hired a new band of Memphis unknowns. It was Year Zero.
The Belle Album has a sparse, dry sound far removed from the deep, heavy stylings of Mitchell’s productions. The guitars are largely acoustic, and fairly high in the spacious mix. “Belle” is the undisputed classic here, featuring the lone appearance of Ardis Hardin on drums, and Green’s new standbys Reuben Fairfax Jr. on bass, Johnny Brown and Leon Thomas handling the keys, and James Bass on electric guitar. Together they create an aching, tender haze that halos Green as he sings to the heavens, to the saints and angels there.
The long introduction to “Georgia Boy” is a showcase for new bassist Reuben Fairfax, Jr., who specialized in the slap style pioneered by Sly & the Family Stone’s Larry Graham. It’s a long track on which Green repetitively broods on regional identity. Neither he nor the band seem to know quite how to conclude, with Green inexplicably ad-libbing “the South gonna do it again!” and the whole track crashing to a collapse amid Green’s bizarre laughter.
“Loving You”:
“Loving You” is hooky gospel-funk with a stutter-step rhythm and fantastic background vocals, while “I Feel Fine” is gospel-disco, complete with Syndrum and hi-hat lifts, upon which Green works himself up to a palpable froth regardless. The bouncy soul throwback “Feels Like Summer” portrays a heady season populated by individuals preoccupied with anxious thoughts of the future. Green’s repeated mention of “the master” makes it clear that, although muddled, his thoughts are still ultimately directed at the divine.
“Chariots Of Fire” begins with some clangorous studio verite before gliding into a deft dance groove anchored by John Toney’s drumming. Green demonstrates his undersung guitar skills on “All N All”, an uptempo devotional with swinging brass, a stomping rhythm and an impassioned, invincible Green at the helm.
The Belle Album was a huge gamble for Green, and it paid off: for a singer so closely associated with his producer, the album provided Green with a confidence boost as he embarked on this radical departure from the old. The album closes with “Dream”, another of Al Green’s long, whispered God/Love epics. With its slow, steady rhythm, its coat of gauzy synthesizers, its steady buildup to a wailing crescendo, it sounds much like the old epics, like “Jesus Is Waiting” or “Beware”.
At the end of 1977, when Belle debuted, Green saw a new dawn in his life, with a long, troubled night behind. That much is plain. But he was still standing at a crossroads, and the listener can’t help but wonder what precisely Al Green is referring to when, in the album’s final moments, he intones, over and over, “All I wanna do is/Make it last forever/Make it last forever/Make it last forever.”
“Dream”: