People, you just don't know. A strong black woman belts out soul the way it oughta be done, and you all immediately run into the streets exalting the new savior. But soul doesn't need any saving. Soul is just fine. Sure, it's been bent, augmented, co-opted, used, abused, and certainly misrepresented. But soul abides.

Artists like Sharon Jones, Amy Winehouse, The Detroit Cobras, The Bellrays, Ryan Shaw, and James Hunter - to name a few - keep the traditional torch hot. Yet they aren't saviors; they're simply reminders swimming in a sea of pretenders.

But I understand your concern. It's when soul gets shoehorned into contemporary pop, r&b, and hip-hop, and polished into a blinding synthetic, that things may get a little dicey. And maybe that's where we could actually use a savior; somebody that bridges the old and the new, somebody that isn't too hung up in the rear view and yet still leans toward live musicians instead of machines, somebody to give us goosebumps.

Yeah, we could use somebody like that. We could use Stephanie McKay.

McKay is an amazing soul singer from the Bronx. You will be knocked out the minute you hear this uber-Afro'd beauty open her mouth. And though the media is poised to canonize her and line the streets with palm fronds, McKay shrugs it off. That's because she thinks soul's gonna be all right, too.

"I don't think it needs saving at all," McKay says. "I'm part of a community of artists who are just inspired by the great legacy of American music that has come before, and we're just continuing that tradition."

Artists like Talib Kweli,Roy Hargrove, Tricky, and Mos Def have all tapped into McKay's modern traditionalism. She has also done time singing and touring with The Brooklyn Funk Essentials. It's the illusive power and emotion in her alto pipes, and her luxurious laconic phrasing that oozes so cool. McKay sings effortlessly, casually, and genuine. She makes it sound easy.

"The most feedback I get from people is, ‘Man, you're real,'" she says. "'I feel what you're doing. You remind me of an era of music that's gone by.'" That may be, but McKay is a soul singer, not a curator. She lives today, straddling the old and new with a mix of reverence and wonder.

McKay grew up singing with her family at home, and in school in borough- and city-wide choirs.

"It provided a great outlet for me," she says. "And exposure to something outside my urban dwelling, where I could have gone another way. That was when they had music in public schools. Now they don't, and you need to walk through a metal detector."

McKay studied to be a dancer with Alvin Ailey until a trick knee forced her to redirect. James Brown, Michael Jackson, and Eartha Kitt got spun around the house and lit her vocal fuse. She did time in an ill-fated Arista Records girl group project, Promise, and went a little acid jazz with The Brooklyn Funk Essentials before moving into backup singer mode. Now she's on her own.

"I think they scratch different itches for me," she says. "But now I'm really enjoying getting to know myself as a band leader and as a solo artist. I'm enjoying growing and finding my own voice artistically. That's where I'm gonna stay right now for a while."

The solo kick started overseas. Portishead producer Geoff Barrow discovered McKay while she was on tour in England with The Brooklyn Funk Essentials. He wound up producing her self-titled first album in 2003. The time she spent in England got her often mistaken as a British artist. McKay is just now making a dent stateside with her classic soul, new soul, whatever - ask McKay and it's just soul.

"They look at it as two different things," she says. "But I think of it all as the same thing. It's all in the same era. I think the main difference is technology, how it changed the depth of the musicianship and arrangements. I think the older soul music had an emphasis on arranging and counterpoint. There was more depth in the music. Whereas today, it's more programming, sampling the music from that era, and a lot of computer-generated vocals, which may have lost the warmth in the recording process."

"The first album I did mostly samples," she says. "The second album I incorporated more live musicianship. I think that's the balance; to try and mix the two together so you don't get such a cold feeling. I favor mixing the two and I don't shun sampling at all. I think it's another art form that is keeping the tradition of soul music alive in another medium for another generation. I think there's a way to make the music palpable for all generations."

 Her brand new "Tell It Like It Is" is a well rounded soul platter. It's perfect for getting the party started, keeping it going, and easing it into the romantic possibilities at the end. "Tell It Like It Is" might just get you laid. It's sultry, funky, sweet and sly, and a perfect marriage between old an new. So much so, that traditionalists who turn their noses up to anything that hips or hops, or that ain't analogue, may have a hard time resisting. The songs groove with that loose grip that only live musicians can bring. It's hard to create and capture this elusive magic in the studio. That's what makes McKay so good.

"I think there were some definite moments on this album where I feel my vocal performance was very inspired," says McKay. "I try to do that every time. I try to capture what I do live on stage. The art of live performance is something that I aspire to. I'm a live performer. I'm an entertainer."

And perhaps a bit of a savior, too. 

Stephanie McKay

Saturday, June 14

High Fidelity, 170 East Ave.

6:30 & 10 p.m. | $20 or Club Pass