Not content with a mere introduction, Lee Fields opens Let's Get A Groove On with an explanation of its contents that lasts more than a minute and a half, announcing that he put the record together "to remind some of you how soul music used to be back in the day, before synthesizers and samplers and drum machines." He's not kidding, either. Best known, if not terribly well known, for some early-'70s soul singles, Fields and his old-school-funk label's house band, The Soul Providers, have assembled an album that sounds like something straight out of '71. Somewhere along the line, Fields picked up the nickname "Little J.B.," and it fits. With Fields' musical taste and vocal mannerisms—and, based on his album's cover, even his hairstyle—inspired by James Brown, Let's Get A Groove On occasionally sounds more like an act of homage than creativity. But it's an honest act of homage. "Watch That Man" ends with Fields chanting "J.B. for president," and if Fields doesn't exactly reinvent the sound of soul and funk music, that's sort of beside the point. The lyric to "Watch That Man," which includes the lines, "Who signed that welfare bill?" and "You better watch The Man / you best believe he's watching you," provides a reminder of something else that's missing from most contemporary soul music: a political awareness and acknowledgement of a world outside of the Cristal and Jacuzzi fantasies created by music videos. (Does anyone expect Usher to condemn the president in a hit single, as Stevie Wonder did in "You Haven't Done Nothing"?) Fields' sweeping dismissal of 30 years of music may not be fair, but if Let's Get A Groove On is meant to provide evidence of the old school's continued viability, he makes a pretty convincing case.