It's Tuesday night, the store's closed, and I'm doing inventory on the soul section when I realize I haven't moved my body in four days. Not because I love running—nobody actually loves running—but because the alternative is standing here alphabetizing heartbreak until midnight.
So here's what I did: I made a deal with myself. Forty-four minutes. Twelve tracks. All soul, all groove, nothing that'll make me think too hard about why I'm alone on a Tuesday reorganizing records that were already organized.
The Electric Peanut Butter Company opens with "Dreams"—this Austin instrumental outfit that sounds like if Booker T. & the MG's got reincarnated in 2015 and decided groove was more important than lyrics. Shawn Lee's production is all warm analog hiss, the kind of texture that makes you forget we live in the digital hellscape. It's the perfect lie: this run is going to be easy, meditative, transcendent.
Track two is when you remember why you stopped running. St. Paul & The Broken Bones hit with "Flow with It," and suddenly your legs are negotiating with your brain about whether this was a good idea. Paul Janeway's got that rawness—Alabama soul revivalist energy, the kind of voice that makes you believe redemption is possible if you just hold on through the bridge.
Here's the thing about retro soul on a run: it doesn't care about your BPM optimization or your interval training. The Floozies bring electronic funk on track three, James Hunter Six channels mid-'60s London soul clubs on track four, and then Sharon Jones arrives like your older sister who's done with your excuses. "How Long Do I Have to Wait for You?" is Daptone Records at their finest—Gabriel Roth's production, that raw 8-track aesthetic, Sharon's voice cutting through every lie you've told yourself about why you haven't called her back.
And then James Brown. Obviously. "I Got The Feelin'" is 1968, King Records, the Godfather at peak powers. If you're not running faster when that horn section hits, check your pulse. You might be dead.
Funkadelic's "Can You Get To That" is where the playlist gets philosophical. George Clinton asking the eternal questions over the cleanest groove Parliament-Funkadelic ever recorded. It's from Maggot Brain, 1971, before they went full mothership. This is the moment on the run where you start thinking maybe movement is the answer. It never is, but the lie feels good for three minutes and forty-seven seconds.
The back half is all Afrobeat and jazz-funk ascension. The Budos Band's "Up From the South"—Daptone again, those Ethiopiques-influenced horns, the kind of instrumental that makes you feel like you're running toward something important instead of just away from the store. Quantic Soul Orchestra brings the cinematic strings, Wild Child offers folk-pop palette cleansing, and then Curtis Mayfield closes with "Move on Up."
Curtis recorded this in 1970 at RCA Studios in Chicago. Seven minutes and forty-five seconds of pure optimism, strings arranged by Riley Hampton, Curtis believing that moving forward is always possible. I'm four miles in, the lakefront trail stretching ahead, and for forty-four minutes I believed him.
Top 5 songs I'd put on a mixtape for someone I'll never give it to:
1. "How Long Do I Have to Wait for You?" by Sharon Jones—Because Daptone's analog warmth makes longing sound noble instead of pathetic.
2. "Can You Get To That" by Funkadelic—George Clinton asking if love is worth the wait while the cleanest groove of 1971 makes the question feel answerable.
3. "Up From the South" by The Budos Band—Instrumental so you can't argue with the words, just feel the Ethio-jazz influence and pretend it's about forward motion.
4. "Move on Up" by Curtis Mayfield—Seven minutes of optimism from a man who believed progress was possible. Riley Hampton's string arrangement does the convincing.
5. "Dreams" by The Electric Peanut Butter Company—No lyrics means no evidence. Just Shawn Lee's production and the promise that this time will be different.
Honorable mention: "I Got The Feelin'" by James Brown, but that's too obvious. If you need James Brown to explain desire, you're already lost.
