Flo Morrissey met Matthew E. White in person for the first time at a Lee Hazelwood tribute performance at the Barbican in London in the fall of 2015, where they both sang "Some Velvet Morning," solidified their correspondence into a friendship and discussed a desire to work together in the near future. That desire grew into Gentlewoman, Ruby Man, in some ways a straightforward duets record, of a kind that has fallen out of fashion, two separate entities meeting to record a collection of great songs as a one-off, Marvin & Tammi-style. In other ways it's a more unique animal, less typical back and forth duets, more subtle and complimentary spotlight sharing. A record like Gentlewoman, Ruby Man might feel inevitable, but it's a small miracle and a testament to the hard work and natural chemistry of these two artists that they were able to pull it off, to find each other and collaborate on a project of this kind across the ocean and the unsteady 21st century musical landscape.
Gentlewoman, Ruby Man is a little difficult to categorize, closing with a leftfield, but utterly sublime chant to Lord Krishna. The fact that it actually works, signals what kind of a special universe this project exists in, a universe familiar to anyone who has followed White's label-cum-production house Spacebomb. White's production takes cues from the touchstones of tape that have become recording canon, he flourishes under a benevolent regime of preparation and in-the-moment respect for the musician's intuition. Feel, what I feel, when I feel, what I feel, when I'm feelin', in the sunshine. What separates him from the new class of rock producers with magpie access to all the coolest records from all the decades, is his background in jazz and sophisticated understanding of arrangement, in the tradition of a Quincy Jones with more than a few strands of Brian Wilson's psychedelic DNA.
Morrissey injected a dose of spiritual joy into the process, placing an educated faith in White's direction and providing her own guiding light in the studio, ready with a studied opinion or an inspired suggestion. Flo's ethereal voice, timeless to begin with, has matured and strengthened, bringing a richness and magic core to everything it touches, and she really sings the night out. White's honeydrop vocal caresses offer a complimentary texture or prowl in the lead. These are big songs tackled with zero insecurity and ego, the band fiery and loose, taking the pressure and throwing away conventionality.
An album of covers could have slipped into mindless eclecticism, commercial efforts at popularity or crate digging cred, but White and Morrissey simply picked good, sometimes unexpected songs that they love and feel connected to, from "Grease" (1978), to a spine-tingling take on the title track from James Blake's "The Colour In Anything" (2016). Nine tracks that feed the heart and move the body. A ruby in the rough and a queen of gentle strength. Gentlewoman, Ruby Man.