The Search for Lewis Taylor
Before streaming algorithms decided what you should hear next, discovering music required effort. You had to hunt for it.
I still remember reading the music review section in the Herald Sun one day and coming across a small paragraph review about the self-titled debut album by Lewis Taylor. What immediately caught my attention were references to “neo soul.” At that stage, I was already deeply immersed in albums like Brown Sugar, Urban Hang Suite and Baduizm, so naturally my curiosity kicked in.
Who was Lewis Taylor?
This was still the CD era. The era of record stores, listening stations and physically searching for albums across the city. I remember travelling between stores — JB Hi-Fi, Gaslight Music and others — trying to track the album down. Eventually, I found it.
Then came the first listen.
The opening track, Lucky, completely pulled me in. Atmospheric textures. A killer bassline. Guitars and keys slowly unfolding before the vocals even entered. And then Lewis starts singing.
Layered harmonies. Soulful phrasing. A clear Marvin Gaye influence yet somehow sounding futuristic at the same time.
What surprised me even more was that I initially assumed Lewis Taylor was Black. Based purely on the sound, the grooves and the vocal delivery, I had created an image in my mind before ever really studying the album artwork properly. It was genuinely surprising to discover this deeply soulful, psychedelic and emotionally rich music was coming from a white British artist.
But the track that completely sealed the album for me was Bittersweet.
The opening alone is extraordinary. Soft piano chords quietly setting the emotional tone before the beat slowly fades in. Then comes the deep breath — a tiny human detail that somehow makes the entire song feel intimate and alive, almost like Lewis is physically preparing himself emotionally before the song fully begins. A subtle psychedelic guitar starts drifting through the background atmosphere, creating this hazy late-night feeling before the layered Marvin Gaye-inspired harmonies finally arrive.
All of this happens before the song even properly opens vocally.
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Listening to it felt less like hearing a standard R&B track and more like entering an emotional soundscape. Soulful, psychedelic, intimate and deeply immersive all at once. It was unlike almost anything else I was hearing at the time, and every repeated listen seemed to reveal another hidden detail somewhere in the mix. Think Marvin mixed with Jeff Buckley.
To this day, I still rate Lewis Taylor’s debut as one of the greatest neo soul albums ever made.
If I had to rank my personal neo soul holy trinity, it would probably be:
- Lewis Taylor
- Voodoo
- Urban Hang Suite
Although I almost separate Black Messiah into its own category entirely because, to me, it transcends neo soul and enters masterpiece territory.
But that's a discussion for another time.
What fascinates me now is how many legendary artists quietly recognised Lewis Taylor’s genius long before the wider public did. I later read stories about D’Angelo reaching out to Lewis around the time he was preparing the follow-up to Brown Sugar. Lewis reportedly travelled to New York expecting to meet him, only for the meeting never to happen, eventually leaving disappointed. There were also stories of artists like Chaka Khan expressing interest in working with him.
Elton John called Lewis Taylor one of his favorite artists.
Even Aaliyah reportedly praised Lewis Taylor’s music after discovering one of his CDs while visiting Australia.
That says a lot.
Lewis Taylor always felt like a musician’s musician — an artist admired deeply by people with extraordinary musical taste, even if mainstream audiences never fully caught on.
What fascinates me most about Lewis Taylor’s debut now is how it acted as a bridge toward more experimental albums later on. Listening to it pushed me toward records like Electric Circus, Phrenology and even Prince’s The Rainbow Children. Albums that challenged structure, blurred genre boundaries and rewarded deeper listening.
Looking back, Lewis Taylor feels like one of those artists music lovers quietly pass between each other almost like a secret. Not a mainstream icon. Not a commercial giant. Just an extraordinary musician whose work leaves a permanent mark on the people who truly discover it.
