Various — Soul to Soul (Blu-ray)
- Apr 29
- 5 min read
Soul to Soul airdrops you into Accra, Ghana, a couple of days before the 14-hour concert kicks off. That way there is time to settle in and acclimate to the West African heat; to venture to the assortment of pre-parties; and to just hang with the American headliners. Come on, when’s the last time you got to hang with Ike & Tina Turner, Wilson Pickett and Carlos Santana?
Also making the intercontinental trek were The Staple Singers, jazzmen Les McCann and Eddie Harris, The Voices of East Harlem, as well as Gregg Rolie’s Hammond B3. All fared well in travel, except for that several-hundred-pound organ belonging to the Santana band. But by showtime, all were more than good to go.
And showtime was March 6, 1971, a date chosen to coincide—to the day—with Ghana’s 14th anniversary of independence. Accordingly, the venue was none other than Black Star Square, an immense outdoor space that, like the gladiator’s Circus Maximus or Colosseum, could pack ’em in by multiple tens of thousands.
But among the writhing sea of 100,000plus very fired-up spectators, you score the best seat in the house for a marathon show that ran from late afternoon throughout the night and into the next day: Soul to Soul.
The Denis Sanders-directed film, which premiered in U.S. theaters in late-August of that same year, provides the 30,000-foot view of the historic soul spectacular. Soul music, that is, as stretched under a broad umbrella definition able to accommodate not only the deep Southern soul of Wilson Pickett and the pop-soul kicked up by the Turners. But also the Memphis-soul-infused gospel stylings of The Staple Singers or the funky soul-jazz created by pianist/vocalist Les McCann and saxophonist Eddie Harris. As for Santana? Well, that’s technically classified as rock—but with a guitar and amplifier directly hardwired to its heart and soul.
By also letting cameras run behind the scenes, Soul to Soul reveals the concert to be much more than the moment in time when the soul of America became the heartbeat of Africa. It was an exchange program, of sorts. Namely, Ghanaians got a chance to witness their overseas heroes in person. Pickett, for instance, is seen being mobbed by fans on the tarmac, only a few short yards after deboarding the plane on Day 1. Also, Santana’s music, said to have blared from radios around the streets of Accra, was the main draw for a subset of locals. In return, the Americans are continually spotted in awe experiencing African culture and customs, face-to-face. Like when we sit beside a mesmerized Ike and an equally stunned Tina at an evening showcase of traditional musicians and dancers. Or join the Staples on a family jaunt to a bustling outdoor marketplace, where anything from supersized elephant bones and sewing machines to baskets of bananas and baskets of knives transport atop heads in precarious balance. Or even dine with Pickett at a hometown feast where the party crashers turn out to be burly lizards.
All this traveling within Africa means you’re never out of earshot of phenomenal drumming. In other words, some kind of ancient drum is getting whacked or thumped at some point along the film’s timeline, with airports, bazaars, dirt patches, as well as the formal stage being prime habitat for polyrhythmic ecstasy.
Still, the main event is the Soul to Soul festival.
Onstage, a frantic go-go-go pace is the default, as if the performers were being paid for every bead of sweat generated. The resulting high-energy atmosphere grabs hold from the opening blast of the Turners’ fibrillating “Soul to Soul” theme song that greets you at the door, right up to Pickett’s frenzying “Land of 1000 Dances,” which eventually brings the film to a close. In between are a slew of performances whose adrenaline and spectacle make them more like fever dreams. The Voices of East Harlem—a platoon 20-kids strong, aged 12-20—groove Richie Havens’ “Run, Shaker Life” to the boiling point. Pops Staples bare-hands riffs from his guitar to whip up Mavis (lead) and his two other singing daughters into airing out “Are You Sure.” And “Hey Jorler” evolves as an abstract jam that pulls Les McCann away from his keyboards to bang a gong while Eddie Harris’ souped-up saxophone wah-wah-wahs. Their secret weapon is a Fra Fra tribesman who, when not working as a witch doctor, bewitches as a percussionist by shaking out rhythms from a calabash with ritualistic movement.
The Santana band scorches, right on cue and according to brand. Carlos—head tossed back, eyes
cinched shut, in total communion with a Gibson Les Paul—calls for a three-song back-to-back-to-back suite of Latinized rock, thick with Afro-Cuban rhythm. Guesting on timbales is Willie Bobo (whose “Evil Ways” provided the framework on which Santana built their turbocharged version for 1969’s self-titled debut LP). And that second guitarist with the massive halo of hair is 17-year-old Neal Schon (who, by 1972, left the band and, in the following year, formed a landmark band of his own, Journey.) “Jungle Strut,” road tested here six months prior to officially arriving on September’s Santana III, bleeds into “Black Magic Woman/Gypsy Queen,” the centerpiece of 1970’s 5X Platinum Abraxas. Ten white-hot minutes very well spent.
Then there is Tina—a fireball in metallic fringe. And there is husband Ike—Nehru collar, wooly mustache, stressed-out Stratocaster. And their horn-laden band plus the Ikettes, three shimmying backup vocalists with all the moves. Combined, the Ike & Tina Turner Revue is quite the show unto itself. “I Smell Trouble” is one of their set’s four documented songs. But compared to their studio version off 1969’s The Hunter, this straight-up, solid, slow blues is especially better when wailed live—and in Ghana. The real benefit comes in being able to watch the back-and-forth interaction between her voice wailing the crushing words while Ike translates them into string bends and finger vibrato and a grandly tortured solo. Justifiably, eyes become spellbound by the drama.
Lastly, “Wicked” Pickett hits the stage … and mass euphoria breaks out. Beneath the colored
stage lights and reinforced by his powerhouse horn band, he rises to his godlike status in Ghana. After all, Pickett was crowned Soul Brother No. 2 (second only to the nation’s love of James Brown). That celebrity clout pays off in ensuring the vast horde hung around through the wee hours until he commanded the bandstand at 4:30 a.m. And he does not disappoint. With horns not merely blazing but also engaging in fancy footwork, like the way, say, Little Richard’s men once did, those familiar downbeats hit with locomotive force; Pickett grabs the mic, smiles, edges to the rim of the stage and launches his glorious growl into “I’m gonna wait ’til …”; jaws in the audience literally drop; and everyone knows a major treat is at hand: “In The Midnight Hour” strikes.
In order to now crisply live on a Blu-ray disc, the documentary received the royal treatment, being restored to the original edit by reconstructing each scene using the high-quality 2K transfers from the original film that were shot in 4:3 aspect ratio. The white-glove package keeps sweetening the deal by rolling in special features. In addition to four separate commentary tracks, including one with Ike Turner and another with Mavis Staples, the Turners’ infamously erotic outtake of Otis Redding’s “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” steams up the already dripping hot Ghanaian air. And if any questions remain after the film’s 93-minute runtime, 32 pages of scholarly notes from Grammy-winning author Rob Bowman make you an instant expert on the event, from nagging contract negotiations to the soaking typhoon.
Soul to Soul: Some enchanted evening … and night … and early morning.
Labels: Liberation Hall
Release date: 5/12/26
Label website: Liberation Hall.com
Reviewed by Dennis Rozanski
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