November 4: Lou

Do yourself a favor. As soon as you're through reading today's post, I want you to put on some decent clothes, grab your car keys, and make your way to the local Tower Records. Walk to the Rs of the R&B section and flip to Rawls. Get yourself a "Greatest Hits" or a "Best of" Lou Rawls. After purchasing whichever album you choose, get back into your vehicle, drive home, and write me a thank you letter.

As a part of this project of converting all of my parents' vinyl records into mp3s, I have to record them in "real time" which means I have to sit and listen from beginning to end. I have sat through quite a lot of (in my opinion) crap, but then I come across a Crystal Gayle or an Alabama. Now, I had heard all of these albums when I was much, much younger, but I never really knew who the artist was when my dad played them. I just remember what they sounded like. So when I grab a new record to transfer, the cover rarely means anything to me.

Occasionally the record will start and I'll instantly remember how much I enjoyed it as a kid. Lou Rawls was definitely one of those records. When the first track started and his silky-smooth voice sang You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine, I found myself cranking up the volume and tapping my toe. This is how the entire album went. I thoroughly enjoyed each track; from one through nine. In Let Me Be Good To You when he crooned about pouring a glass of wine for his lover and massaging the stress of the day away, I wasn't creeped out. It was the exact thing that Chef from South Park sings about, but it wasn't funny. It was good old fashioned groove.

Seriously, though. Lou Rawls is the man. He's upbeat, sexual, and smooooth. His is the kind of music you want to listen to with a glass of wine and a hot bath. You can't listen to him as background music, either. You have to blast it unapologetically and as soon as I have it transferred to my iPod, I plan on doing just that.