Memphis, After Midnight

We find ourselves in the midst of a retro soul revival. From the steamy, greasy niche of Sharon Jones and the Daptone stable to the more mass market stylings of Amy Winehouse, current UK number one Adele and various others. Into the mix comes a Dusty Springfield tribute from the formidable Ms. Shelby Lynne.

Though mercifully Shelby declines to cover "The Windmills of Your Mind", Just a Little Lovin' shares songs with Dusty in Memphis and the comparison is obvious. But let me throw another couple of tiles out there that are more apt. Just a Little Lovin' is not a the new millennia's Dusty in Memphis, it's our In the Wee Small Hours or Sings for Only the Lonely by Frank Sinatra.

Soaking a bit in orchestral gossamer ("Son of a Preacher Man" the notable exception) Dusty in Memphis is a late evening cocktail bar, women in velvet dresses, the joint is still full and the swirling choruses contain the promise of at least keeping up appearances. It's damn fine but Just a Little Lovin' and those Sinatra sides lay the hurt out without adornment, musical or emotional. This is 3am music and wherever you are, you're probably alone.

Shelby has made country-pop respectable for the more traditionally minded, but has always had too much of the honky tonk in her to satisfy the Nashville suits. In any of her versatile discography it is evident, this a voice made for soul. The instrumentation is minimal; the drums are brushed, there is breathing room between each note of the bass, there are no horns or string sections. Everything then is resting on Shelby Lynne and the tricky ask of reinterpreting some of the age's most familiar popular songs. The Elvis version of "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me" is on pretty high rotation here but in Lynne's version I realised the desperation and sadness of it for the first time. "Pretend" is a similar sentiment and equally effective. "Willie and Laura Mae Jones" is the "Son of a Preacher Man" substitute, a snaky slice of country-soul which recalls most of all Bobbie Gentry and she even manages to find something distinct in "Anybody Who Had a Heart."

In this dread week of Valentine, mopey singletons will find a perfect soundtrack for the Sara Lee, cask red and cathartic self-pity. The rest of you will just love the soul, the voice and the joy of rediscovery.