Speaking to the soul

Aloe Blacc looks beyond the mic.

By Peter Nicholson

A FEW WEEKS back, while interviewing Detroit techno legend Carl Craig, I asked what the last track was that blew his mind. I expected to hear about some hot new jam from Europe or maybe an obscure jazz-fusion joint that he had rediscovered. Instead, "I'm really digging that Aloe Blacc on Stones Throw" was the response. I was surprised but really shouldn't have been: Both sides of his "Want Me"/"Arrive" 12-inch marry an urgent, emotional freakiness with production that balances drama and minimalism – just the kind of adventurous soul music that a risk-taker like Craig might like.

If I was surprised, Blacc was stunned when I shared that chance exchange. The 25-year-old Orange County native, born Nathaniel Dawkins, is steadily earning his share of acclaim, initially for his hip-hop work as Emanon with DJ Exile. For his own solo recording to get the thumbs-up from an innovator like Craig was obviously a boost.

"The Carl Craig comment is fascinating – that is what I'm working for," Dawkins enthused over the phone from Orange County. "I want my fans to love it, but I also want my peers to love it. I want the people that I look up to to love it."

Craig's reaction is just the latest positive development for Dawkins after a summer that saw a big underground response for his cover version of John Legend's "Ordinary People," featuring a salsa rhythm and Dawkins singing in Spanish, and a successful residency as the host of Do Over, a Sunday afternoon party at Cranes in Hollywood.

The buzz is reassuring for Dawkins, who not so long ago gave up a job as a traveling business consultant for Ernst and Young. "I was in every other city but my own, flying home on weeknights to do shows, flying back on red-eyes to go to work the next morning," explained Dawkins, the son of Panamanian immigrants. "I thought to myself, 'It's good money, I have no debts, no expenses.... I might as well live my dreams because this job isn't what I want to do."

Part of the decision process came after a company function where he sang his own "Mama, Hold My Hand," a ballad from a son to his mother, as part of a talent show designed to break the ice between new employees. "It went really, really well," Dawkins said with a chuckle. "Had some of my coworkers in tears by the end of the song – it was beautiful. That was one of the indications that maybe I don't belong here."

Dawkins has high hopes for his debut full-length, due out early next year on Stones Throw, a project that he feels is closest to his own diverse musical inspirations (including Cat Stevens and James Taylor) and which he describes as 80 percent singing. His work as an MC with Exile, a partnership that began on mix tapes more than a decade ago, has developed many fans, some of whom are loath to see Dawkins move on from rapping, but he's not terribly concerned.

"I don't worry so much, because I'm a musician," he said. "I started with the trumpet, so really if I wanted to quit rappin' altogether and just go back to the trumpet, nobody could say shit!"

Dawkins laughs, but it's clear there is a bit of frustration with fans who can't see beyond his Emanon releases or cameos on Stones Throw productions. Still, listening to Dawkins' rapping on Emanon's The Waiting Room, which came out earlier this year on Shaman Works, one can commiserate with the hip-hop fan who doesn't want to lose the mic skills shown on the tightly rolling "Pseudo" or the bouncing delivery on "Count Your Blessings," which so perfectly matches the skanking beats.

In exchange for a lack of rapping, newer efforts from Dawkins feature his silky singing, which, when paired with lyrics like "I want to see the look in your eyes, when I'm inside / You can even scream if you like, when you arrive," prompted online retailer Turntable Lab to dub him the "indy world's R. Kelly." Dawkins's voice is remarkably seductive, yet it was a too-narrow focus on the bedroom that had him rethink the track listing for his upcoming album. After completing the recording sessions, Dawkins reviewed what he'd created, then, holding himself to some pretty high standards, he decided he needed to try again. "I listened to it, and then I played another few albums that I really like – classic, historic albums [like Lauryn Hill's Miseducation of Lauryn Hill and D'Angelo's Voodoo] – and I thought to myself, 'I need to go back to the drawing board.' I thought to myself, 'What is soul music? Soul music is music that speaks to the soul,' and I didn't have too may songs that spoke to the soul. Most of them just spoke to the libido."

The newer version of the album has fewer booty-call beats and plenty of other styles, from "acoustic guitar songs" to ones on the "Negro spiritual tip," and it's obvious Dawkins doesn't intend to limit his ambitions. "Nobody ever told Lionel Ritchie or Stevie Wonder not to cross genres," he said. "I look at my heroes, my forefathers, and that's what I'm trying to do."

Aloe Blacc performs Oct. 28, 9 p.m., Pink, 2926 16th St., SF. $10. (415) 431-8889.