Prior to becoming known for his own solo recordings, Fiddler had a double-decades-deep resume as a keyboardist-pianist-backing vocalist for a mighty list of big names, on tour and in the studio: George Clinton and the P-Funk All Stars, Prince, Primal Scream, and the Brand New Heavies. In time, he had set up his own studio in Detroit - Camp Amp - and became a key player in getting other area artists started on their own careers. (Specifically the late J Dilla, whom he somewhat famously schooled on the ins and outs of the MPC, and underground hip-hop legends Slum Village).

Fiddler's solo albums - not including his 1990 effort under the name Mr. Fiddler, which is out of print and I have never heard - are well-versed in the Marvin Gaye/Stevie Wonder/Donny Hathaway soul canon, but there's a solid dose of Prince- and Clinton-informed funk-etry at play as well. Throw some Sly Stone in there, too, while we're at it.

Blessed with a smooth, laid-back tenor recalling elements of Marvin Gaye, much of his work appears to breathe the same air as Gaye's "A Funky Space Reincarnation" and "Time To Get it Together," both mellow groovers from his otherwise-bitter 1978 divorce record Here, My Dear (Motown). Fiddler displays little of the biting anger of his touchstone's break-up masterpiece, but he frequently works with similar loose, easygoing-funk rhythms - check 2004's Waltz of a Ghetto Fly and 2007's Afro Strut (both Genuine/Play It Again Sam) for proof.

And as for Sly and Robbie - do they need any introduction at this point? Drummer Lowell Dunbar - re-named Sly to show his love for Sly Stone - and bassist Robbie Shakespeare have been working together since the 1970s, and could very well be the most prolific recording artists of all time. (It has been estimated that they've played on 200,000 songs at this point, and they show little sign of slowing down; in addition to Inspiration Information, they've recently brought considerable roll and rumble to Grace Jones' brilliant comeback Hurricane (Wall of Sound), for example.

In addition to re-shaping Jamaican music several times over - including the introduction of harder riddims into reggae to create the style known as "Rockers" - Sly and Robbie have worked quite extensively with rock musicians, disco, and ambient electronics. They have released countless albums under their own name; collaborated on crucial reggae recordings by Culture, Black Uhuru, and Peter Tosh; orchestrated Grace Jones' makeover from disco diva to devastating dub warrior; largely delivered daunting measures of ambient dread on some of Bill Laswell's Material output; and served up some seriously heavy bottom end to everyone from Serge Gainsbourg to the Rolling Stones to Tricky.

So, how does such an intriguing union play out, you ask? Without a misstep, pretty much - anyone familiar with the efforts of all parties involved won't exactly be bowled over by any "where did that come from?" surprises, as the collab feels like an even split between creative minds. The eyebrow-raiser, however, is just how strong Inspiration Information really is - silken but spacey, often languid but deeply funky, it's a disc deserving of its title.

Despite the fact that Fiddler had only met Sly and Robbie very briefly prior to going into the studio, all three must have gelled almost immediately, given the short duration of the recording process and the quality of their output. Fiddler sounds stronger than ever, weaving effortlessly between soft purrs, head-wobbled rambles, and soulful croons and yowls. Sly and Robbie - well, their stamp on the disc is a generous one, as you'd expect from a pair so influential that their sound can be identified within a few notes. There are more than a few points here where I was reminded of the duo's work with Grace Jones - aspects of her recent aforementioned Hurricane, yes, but even more so I spotted a kinship with Jones' 1980/1981 fierce-riddim one-two punch of Warm Leatherette and Nightclubbing (both Island).

While Fiddler doesn't aim for Jones' cold detachment on the album - he possesses a much warmer, sultrier voice than the foreboding diva, and those qualities are on full display here - the instrumental feel of the proceedings is not unlike what Sly and Robbie produced for the more Caribbean-flavored numbers on her recordings. The similarity is strong enough that I even scanned the liner notes to see if these sessions were recorded at the same legendary studio as Jones - Compass Point in the Bahamas - but alas, these tracks were instead laid down in Kingston, Jamaica's Anchor Studios, over the course of three days.

Inspiration Information kicks off with the sputtering, stuttering clap-happy funk of "Crazy Day," in which Fiddler's vocal turn leaves me daydreaming about what would have happened if Marvin Gaye decided to mimic George Clinton. My guess is it would have sounded maybe like this track, simultaneously exuding warmth and mind-muddled atmosphere. Meanwhile, a grinding, gurgling electric piano skips around Sly and Robbie's tricky rhythm. It's one of the disc's less-reggae-indebted tracks, and could easily slide its way onto Afro Strut without seeming out of place.

The same could be said for its follow-up, "Drama Inside," which boasts some well-placed ripples of atmospheric guitar over a loose, liquid groove - the instrumentation, combined with Fiddler's hushed croon, brought to mind Gaye's gentler-funk moments (read: "A Funky Space Reincarnation") "I Fell on the Wagon" is a twitchy squiggle-groove about finding God that mercifully avoids proselytizing and heavy-handedness.

Instead, Amp dresses up his tale of redemption with Stevie Wonder-esque clavinet funk and a bluesy delivery. Meanwhile, Sly and Robbie sound huger than huge, heaping a colossal rumble underneath it all. Sonically speaking, "Blackhouse (Paint the White House Black)" is cut from a similar cloth. Here, however, Fiddler offers perhaps his most impassioned performance, yearning for a unified America where racial discord no longer exists. It's the kind of song I could imagine Michael Franti writing for Spearhead, and Fiddler truly shines on some of the lyrics, blending the personal with the political to impressive effect.

"U" is the disc's first straight-up reggae number, a love song set to a throbbing midtempo roll - it's a sweet charmer, and the addition of a trio of female backing vocalists definitely doesn't hurt, either. The clacking, echo-heavy dub of "Lonely" is a fine reminder of the authoritative rhythms rolled out by Sly and Robbie on Jones' formative Compass Point sessions, while the herd-of-elephant thump they give to "Serious" - combined with the song's nervy synths and vaguely menacing electric guitar passages - pushes along with the same force they've given to some of the darker moments on Hurricane.

The most compelling track, though, is "Vibrationship," a thickly spacey entreaty to "take a trip on our mothership" called out against a web of synth squelches and sighs, a midair-hovering groove, and, strangely enough…a squeak toy. Alluringly spiritual but still willfully odd, it's a sure highlight of the disc, and hopefully a place to which they might return if the three ever end up in the same place at the same time again. Fingers crossed.

Here's an illuminating video about the making of the album: