Barnes & Noble
Louisiana native Marc Broussard grew up steeped in music: at the knee of his father, guitarist Ted Broussard; in gospel praise at church; among Cajun country's fiddlers and pickers; and in New Orleans soul and funk. That last ingredient in the singer's personal gumbo comes to the fore on the aptly titled S.O.S.: Save Our Soul. Broussard's debut for Island, Carencro (named for his his hometown), announced his powerfully gruff pipes with monumental blues-rock along the lines of "Home," but S.O.S. is more single-minded. Ten classic R&B tracks join Broussard's "Come In from the Cold," and what might seem like hubris -- covering some of Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, and Al Green's signature songs -- is child's play for his seasoned voice. Despite the reverent arrangements (wah wah guitar and organ dominate), Broussard makes these songs his own. With the zeal only a 25-year-old could conjure, Marc Broussard preaches a powerful gospel on this disc, and it's impossible for his labors of love not to connect. Mark Schwartz
All Music Guide
It might have come out in 2007, but S.O.S.: Save Our Soul is a record very much grounded in the soul music of the 1960s and 1970s, both in material and sound. To begin with, all but one of the songs is a cover of a '60s or '70s soul tune. The arrangements have a very vintage sound as well, singer Marc Broussard and multi-instrumentalist/background singer Calvin Turner being the only constant factors in a rotating cast of players. Give Broussard credit for not opting, for the most part, for overdone standards; there are covers of a few big hits here (Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues [Make Me Wanna Holler]," the Staple Singers' "Respect Yourself," the Pointer Sisters' "Yes We Can, Can"), but also interpretations of lesser-known songs associated with Stevie Wonder, Bobby Womack, Rance Allen, Al Green, and Blood, Sweat & Tears. On its own terms, it's an OK record; Broussard's a good (if not too distinctive) singer, and the musical grooves are solid. If you made a mixtape of the originals, though, it would blow this out of the water, making this an inessential tribute to vintage soul that's rather pointless except as a showcase of Broussard's skill in carrying on the tradition. Richie Unterberger