On first spin, most listeners won’t be able to tell that gutsy soul singer Charles Bradley’s Daptone debut wasn’t recorded in the late ’60s and dusted off for release in early 2011. Subsequent plays reveal subtleties in production and instrumentation that might tip off some, but for the rest, this is a remarkable reproduction of the sound of classic Southern soul. Its combination of Stax and Muscle Shoals grease and grit are captured in what can only be called “the Daptone sound.” Horns, percussion, background vocals, vibraphone, and rhythm guitar form a cozy, often sizzling blanket that Bradley wraps himself in. His grainy, lived-in vocals are straight out of the James Brown/Wilson Pickett school; comfortable with both the gospel yearning of slower ballads but ready to make the leap to shouting, searing intensity without warning. The yin-yang between Bradley and his players would be impressive even if the material wasn’t as top-shelf as these dozen songs are. All three working in tandem yield a perfect storm of an R&B album, one with clear antecedents to the genre’s roots with new songs that are as powerful and moving as tunes from the music’s classic era. The band even gets its own showcase on the instrumental, Latin-tinged “Since Our Last Goodbye,” perhaps an unusual inclusion on a vocalist’s album, but one that strengthens the connection between the backing group and its singer. Bradley has had a tough life, knocking around for years as a lounge act doing covers until the Daptone folks came calling with fresh material and their patented production. That history is evident in every note he sings; pleading, begging, and testifying with a style that few contemporary vocalists can muster without lapsing into parody. Lyrically the material is a mix of the socio-political (“The World Is Going Up in Flames,” “Golden Rule”), heartbroken romance (“I Believe in Your Love,” “Heartaches and Pain”), and the joys of true love (“Lovin’ You Baby”). Some tunes are more personal, especially “No Time for Dreaming” where he’s telling himself to get serious about his career, and in “Why Is It So Hard,” as he delivers a capsule history of his life-long difficulties. Even if the concepts appear shopworn, the music and performances are vibrant and alive with arrangements that are innovative yet informed by their roots. Retro-soul aficionados who claim they don’t make ‘em like they used to will obviously be thrilled with this, but even contemporary R&B fans can’t help but be moved by the emotion and passion evident in every note of this riveting set. – Hal Horowitz