With the recent passing of Wilson Pickett, the world is minus one more legitimate soul legend, with seemingly no others in development. What happened to this once-glorious genre? Where is my Sam Cooke, my Al Green, my Otis Redding? Who the fuck decided horn sections weren't cool anymore? Who the fuck decided Juelz Santana would produce as many hits as Willie Mitchell? Bobby and Whitney are no Ike and Tina, and Ja Rule and Ashanti are sure as hell no Marvin and Tammi. Simply no amount of crunk juice will turn Amerie into Aretha.

Make no mistake, Stax would've never signed Chan Marshall, and The Greatest isn't the revival of modern soul. With this album, Marshall famously returns to her Southern roots, flaunting her heritage more prominently than on any album since 1998's Moon Pix. Unfortunately, recording with the cats responsible for I'm Still In Love With You doesn't make this Let's Stay Together. Instead, Marshall's bare musings take center stage, while Mabon "Teenie" Hodges, Leroy "Flick" Hodges and Steve Potts and other Memphis session musicians lend a rich backdrop that's soulful, but not necessarily soul.

The shimmering Hammond B-3, the slightly overdriven rhythm guitar, the divine bursts of trumpet, the funky 4/4 - they all add immeasurably to the many melodies that have always been buried in Marshall's damaged compositions. Their triumph is finally finding the appropriate aura for Marshall's peculiar milieu without transforming her into something she's not. She's still as intimate and introspective as ever. Still, a little gospel goes a long way in the reverence department. That newfound sense was sorely lacking in her past efforts, perhaps explaining why those that did identify with her frank earnestness responded so passionately and those who were unable to get through the sparse arrangements and half-mouthed lyrics were left labeling Marshall as Fiona Apple lite.

For the Hodges and crew, the burden of breathing joy into Marshall's laments is immensely lighter on tunes like the sublime "Could We." The song, a sun-drenched slice of soul straight out of the Hi-Records handbook, captures the nervous energy of a first date, and leaves Marshall sounding more confident and sexy than ever.

"Could We" buoys the mood next to the gravity of "Empty Shell," while "Living Proof" empowers Marshall to declare herself The Greatest without irony. Then the whistling outro to "After It All" fades and the dark, syncopated stabs of Marshall's guitar usher in "Hate," and suddenly every diehard Cat Power fan is acquiesced.

"Hate" is the hinge The Greatest swings on. Longtime fans will find the naked, angry cries of "I hate myself and want to die" more in line with their expectations from a Cat Power record. But Marshall confronts that notion with a brush-off: "Do you believe she said that? / Do you believe she said that? / I said, 'I hate myself and I want to die.' "

This is what soul music can do - break your heart with beauty. There's more sadness in Otis Redding's Dictionary of Soul than The Downward Spiral, made more profound when highlighted with tons of joy. The Greatest is an achievement of that magnitude on a smaller scale; now we just need D'Angelo to write the next What's Going On.

Music Review: 4.5 out of 5 stars