The stargazing, floatation devices of neo-soul are alive and well within the sounds of Spacek’s spaceship seduction. Equipped with a typical in-awe semi-falsetto, his cult leader role looks to ask new recruits up for coffee before deflowering them with the usual silk pyjama passages of low-slung bass, slip-slide rhythms, feather-touched keys running up and down spines and Madlib-puffed haze. Sporadic stammer and bounce turns Spacek’s trading at the business end of the bedroom into something more athletic and supple on this application of audio baby oil.
3 Out Of 5
Reviewed By: Matt Oliver
