Isley Brothers
Get Into Something
(Epic Associated/Legacy 65223)

Like many of the reissues in Legacy's Rhythm & Soul series, Get Into Something is an album that looks like it should be a great album, but it ends up being a pretty lame exercize in what I call "Fillmore soul."

This refers to the late 60s/early 70s free-love between rock, soul, jazz, and funk, served up by Santana, Sly & the Family Stone, Miles Davis, and the Isley Brothers, all of whom are extremely overrated to begin with, but especially during this period. The Isley Brothers may be the most derivative group of the bunch, as this album attests.

The opening track, "Get Into Something," gets things started on an inspired note, with a fresh melody, funky bass, and great horns, but at over seven minutes it's at least double its ideal length. Just when the song ought to fade and leave you wanting more, it gives you more with a breakdown and then a slow-down leading to a fuzz guitar solo at the end. Bad form.

The problem with the album is that the songs seem better than they sound. "Freedom," "Take Inventory," and "Keep On Doin'" should be great get-your-act-together songs like the O'Jays and the Three Degrees would hit big with, but the Isleys seem to have a "melody optional" policy. Throw in idiotic observational songs like "Girls Will Be Girls" and "I Got to Find Me One" and the balance has shifted from mediocre to poor.

Interestingly, one of the better cuts on the album is "Bless Your Heart," which is a literally note-for-note remake of the Isley's 1969 hit "It's Your Thing," but with new lyrics. I love when groups retool their own songs and try to pass the crap one off as fresh. Hilarious. The inclusion of that track actually gives it one more Cute Li'l Puppy than it deserves.

As far as I can tell, the Isley Brothers were really good at only one thing: jumping on the bandwagon. But their soulful funk is always tight and their grooves are always right on. With respect to this album, though, I'd strongly recommend you Get Into Something else.

Review by Lou Borstal