Or perhaps, a political movement set it into motion. Throughout the 60s and early 70s, minorities were being shifted between differing elemental extremes, from the high-minded misguidance of white college organizers to the underdeveloped power struggles within their own onerous leadership. Still, the Black Panthers and such civil rights giants as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X tried to forge a new identity for the people – an empowerment based in pride outside the enduring prejudice.

Could be, a concert started it all. In 1971, a group of gifted American artists traveled to Ghana to help the nation celebrate its 14th Anniversary of independence from the colonialism of Great Britain. Along for the ride was an international delegation of leaders, featuring such future luminaries as the Rev. Jesse Jackson. For many, it was their first trip to Mother Africa, the long legendary place of their origins (as well as the favorite location taunt of segregationist "go back home" boys). For others, it was a chance to perform to a crowd of over 100,000 – each and every one in attendance to celebrate their music, their culture and their ethnicity. If one looks closely, beyond all the sizzling onstage moves and overwhelming cult of personality, one can begin to see the beginnings of the "black is beautiful" movement that would come to define the African American experience in the 1970s. Soul to Soul, a brilliant documentary of this little known international event, gives us glimpses of said consciousness raising, of a world view expanding and embracing its heritage.

The DVD:
They all got on the plane with one thought on their mind: What would Africa be like? For many of them, it was ground zero, the ethnic starting point for their entire social makeup. For others, it was a chance to experience a culture, first hand that they only celebrated and considered from afar. It promised a wealth of wonders. It suggested secrets and sights one could only imagine in their mind. But for the artists, musicians, politicos and PR people who made the long trip to Ghana in 1971, this pilgrimage to Africa was a true event. The seeds of Afro-centrism had been planted in the West during the liberating climate of the 1960s and the growing civil rights movement. Now, here was a chance to celebrate an ex-colony's independence, as well as establish a link between the past and the present. The history of the black experience in the USA was based in the slave trade and personal displacement of a people from their homeland. Ever since the forcible relocation, the African American has longed to return to the place of their birth. It signifies a chance to sample the environment, breath in the same air and entertain the vistas that ancestors once savored. For performers such as Ike and Tina Turner, Wilson Pickett, The Staples Singer, the Voices of East Harlem, Santana, Les McCann and Eddie Harris, the Soul to Soul concert was more than just a show. It was the first tenuous strands of a newfound connection between a people and their place.

Soaring, stoic, sensational and just a little sad, Soul to Soul is one of the best concert documentaries ever produced, a unique look at a historic event in both the entertainment and social fabric of African Americans. A remarkable combination of tunes and testament, this travelogue as teacher opened up the eyes of the world – and specifically the insular American urban community, to the untapped resources of their own ethnic identity. It is important to understand the limited media exposure for the global climate and community in the West circa 1970. Satellite transmission of imagery was still in its infancy and world news was usually relegated to a nightly afterthought or a battle report from war-town Vietnam. Americans, especially those with ties to more exotic foreign locales would be hard pressed to see their people represented, either in a good or bad light, among the English-speaking entities filling the idiot box. Movies were still stymied in a decidedly Caucasian dynamic (blacksploitation and the rise in Asian kung fu films was still a few years off) and very few stories centered on people of color. About the only arena where the races mixed successfully was on the music charts. Soul dominated the early 70s scene, with such funky sound factories as Stax and Motown setting the pop music agenda. Both white and black, rich and poor moved and grooved to the sounds shouting out from their AM transistor radio. If sonics could bring together such a diverse cross-section of a still segregated country, why couldn't it bridge the gap between a race and their roots? Soul to Soul showed that it was possible to do that very thing.

Unlike other similar cinematic experiences, like the wholly under-appreciated Wattstax, Soul to Soul is more about the music than the message. Certainly, there is some preaching among the performances, a definite agenda to make Africa seem less backward (at least for the cliché-considering Westerner) and more breathtaking and dignified. The musicians interact with the people in a calm, respectful manner with none of the overt mania surround similar situations in, say, America. It is all explanation, not exploitation. There are numerous examples of native customs and traditions strewn throughout the film; moments where the manufactured sounds shut down and we witness the natural elements and ambiance of a people expressing their own inner resonance. The dancing, the keening, the overall exuberance and air of joy in this national celebration does something wonderful to Soul to Soul. Unlike Wattstax, which challenges its audience to listen up and embrace the pain and anguish of a people as they deal with their sense of dignity, Soul to Soul illustrates a magnificent heritage of pride, and allows us to then dive into and drown within it. Certainly, the music is the key to the entire concert (and the film made from it), but the ability to see some of the natural and native splendor within the elusive, enigmatic continent gives Soul to Soul its own special authority.

Still, it's hard to separate the visual splendor from the sheer sonic devastation of the featured performers. When he takes the stage, Wilson Picket literally plays the crowd like an instrument. His initial offering of "In the Midnight Hour" is only topped by his closing workout for "Land of a Thousand Dances". The Staples Singers - Pops and his proud daughters - nearly steal the entire festivities with an awe-inspiring version of "When Will We Be Paid?" Indeed, when Mavis launches into the final call and response, it's like hearing Heaven open up and God's own private jukebox belting out the glory. Unknown to most modern audience, the Voices of East Harlem resemble the Jackson Five crossed with Rev. James Cleveland, with the best of both of these worlds melding into an inspiring joyful noise. And Santana provides a jam-happy marriage between "Jungle Strut" and "Black Magic Woman" that exemplifies why Carlos is considered such a fascinating virtuoso. But perhaps the two biggest musical revelations here come from decidedly different ends of the sonic spectrum. Experimental jazz giants Les McCann and Eddie Harris blast through a couple of complex, crafty numbers that excel at matching the best of all the possible fusion forces. "The Price You Gotta Pay to Be Free" is an amazing instrumental and vocal tour-de-force. Not surprisingly though, it's Ike and Tina Turner who basically bring down the house with their well-known brand of sex based swamp boogie. From an overall performance that is so hot, is seems to generate its own atmosphere with the energy expelled, to Ike's amazing guitar solo work, the Revue and its psycho-sensual front woman more or less crush the crowd as they blast through "River Deep, Mountain High", "Ooh Poo Pah Doo" and "I Smell Trouble".

There is also an extended period in the film that focuses on a local percussionist and medicine man named Amoah Azangeo who specializes in playing a round gourd-like instrument (sometimes called a calabash) in a very unique, almost athletic fashion. Like a combination basketball player and spiritual shaman, Azangeo struts and steps with precision and poise as he makes this most simple of gadgets sing with unreal, ritualistic cadences. Les McCann brings him onstage to perform during the show and the combination of talents is spellbinding. In addition, we learn a little about this amazing man's background. In one of the more compelling parts of the documentary, we follow Azengeo's travels as he moves from town to tribe, absorbing the atmosphere and contributing to each of the local rhythmic expressions along the way. By the time he performs for the entire gathering of artists at a special showcase, you can see the humbleness and determination pour off his body. Along with the opening sequences where other dancers and singers entertain and embrace the visitors from a foreign land, this personalized look at Azangeo expands the scope of Soul to Soul's message. It helps to secure the sense that it's music, more than anything else, which bonds and unites this community. Azengeo's struggle is the struggle of every black or African in the world, battling the overwhelming sense of individual isolation to make a connection with his own people and his own community. Standing on the stage in front of 100.000 of his fellow countrymen, Azangeo may have just found the perfect symbiotic situation.

The one factor that is most under-represented in Soul to Soul is a real sense of the crowd's overall reaction. Director Denis Sanders, seems less concerned with how the people enjoyed the concert and wishes to keep his stars front and center. Certainly at the beginning of the show the throng is featured in all their frenzy. But this is a ruse, as the performance by Wilson Pickett (where we see most of the audience footage) was the FINAL act of the concert. There is really nothing wrong with this idea – most singer/songwriter showcases pay too much attention to how the multitude mews at the slightest suggestion from their icons. But Soul to Soul is something different. It is providing moments of life-changing connections, West meeting the wilderness to finally make peace with the past. When Mavis Staples is working her monumental magic, it would be nice to see how the people are affected by her combination of preaching and grace. Similarly, Tina Turner is barely dressed onstage, wearing a see-through top and the shortest skirt in the history of the garment. Yet nowhere do we witness a single ogle or satisfied grin. Certainly, these are incredibly ancillary factors in the force of a musical documentary, but songs are a give and take between performer and participant. To leave out one half of that paradigm chips away at the command perceived in both. Also, there is a lack of cohesive narrative drive in the overall form of the film that occasionally makes the story seem scattershot. While Wattstax consistently kept its focus on the growing sense of empowerment provided by the Stax concert, there is more of a random road trip feel to Soul to Soul. It is not dramatically destructive, nor does it undermine the entertainment one gets from the grandiose musical performances. But if Soul to Soul had a bigger picture to push, a larger agenda to endear, it gets lost in the indiscriminate compiling of scenes.

Still, if one merely forgets the minor flaws that really do little to undercut the potency of the imagery, and focuses instead on the amazing journey of discovery unfolding before their eyes, Soul to Soul transcends its trappings to become an important time capsule of a staggering event. While it may not look like it from the situations shown or the subtle shifts in political point buried within the brave faces, Soul to Soul represents the embracing of the cultural past and applying it to the current social climate. Along with the civil rights movement, the strive for black power and the evolving pride in African history and heritage, the musical climate of the late 60s/early 70s represented the most mainstream strides for integration and acceptance. In many ways, the concert was an electrified thank you to the continent that spawned so many of the sounds presented and relied on. From the Latin-inspired world rhythms of Santana to the glorious Gospel of The Staples Singers, Wilson Pickett's funk through Ike and Tina's blues-based rock – even the experimental jazz of Les McCann and Eddie Harris – this 1971 performance encapsulates the entire black experience; the true sense of artistic expression bubbling up and boiling over within the entire race. For over 400 years, the African American had been displaced from their birthright, unable to see or even feel a direct tie toward the world that was stolen from them. Soul to Soul was the first salvo, the opening doorway to a entire history that was simply waiting to be revealed. While it may not wear its agenda on its sleeve, it is still an important part of the black experience, both in America and in the world.

The Video:
Though it looks like a production from over 33 years ago, the remastered image of Soul to Soul still sparkles with an amazing amount of visual splendor. Any problems with color correction or picture quality obviously derive from the original stock elements or the limited technology available at the time. The palette has a tad too much red (especially during the numerous night scenes) and there are occasions where the picture loses most of its pigmentation. Still, when one can see the beads of sweat pooling around the neck of a worn-out Wilson Pickett, you know that the transfer is top notch. Soul to Soul may not look brand new, but it still provides a very evocative picture.

The Audio:
As with any other concert release, the reproduction of the music is crucial to understanding the power in the performances and the energy of the experience. Soul to Soul provides two stirring sonic options, both of which resonate with absolute aural authority. In either configuration, either the Dolby Digital 2.0 or the new and improved 5.1 Surround sound, Soul to Soul sounds sensational. The separation in the Surround track is well maintained and the feeling of being in the audience is substantial.

The Extras:
Reelin' in the Years Productions and Rhino Home Video have created a wonderfully dense and detailed DVD package to celebrate the release of Soul to Soul. Though the video is rather rough, the outtake of Ike and Tina Turner performing "I've Been Loving You Too Long" is remarkable. When they were hot (and not sullied by the shadows of all the post-breakup tabloid gossip), this explosive live act really knew how to tear the roof of the realm. There is also an excellent stills gallery featuring dozens of photos from the trip. Enclosed with the DVD is a CD, presenting several of the songs from the show. It's a fantastic souvenir, as well as a killer live album. Along with a massive booklet enclosed in the cardboard slipcase, featuring lots of information and anecdotes about the show, the main added content are the four separate commentary tracks, each one representing a different facet of the film.

Mavis Staples, talking with music historian Rob Bowman (who is present on all the artist-based bonus tracks), immediately recaptures the feeling of the time and place, recalling specific events and emotions tied to the entire trip. Her story about Pops being offered 10 cows for her hand in marriage is priceless. Another track features Ike Turner, Michael Shrieve (drummer for Santana), local drummer Abo Addy, Kevin Griffin (from Voices of East Harlem) and Les McCann. Recorded separately, each brings his own take on the turmoil, and the talent, involved in Soul to Soul. Ike is still his wonderful, egotistical self, taking credit for everything and downplaying some of the more eye-opening cultural elements. Shrieve, a huge fan of female vocalists, recalls how he was seated between Mavis Staples and Roberta Flack for much of the ride, and recalls what a monumental experience it was. Kevin marvels at his own chutzpah (during a Q&A at the start of the film, the then 13 year old said that Africa had "no" good music) and realizes how much he learned over the course of the five day trip. Addy acts as retroactive tour guide, explaining the locations being used and some of the tribal customs being followed. Then there is McCann who acts as chief bubble buster for Soul to Soul, letting out little known details about the corruption and graft that was rampant in the government. His stories about how the arts council blackmailed the production for money right before putting on a celebratory concert for the performers is just one of the highlights of this extra.

McCann and Griffin are also featured on their own separate commentary, but it seems rather pointless, considering it covers almost everything they said in the Ike Turner/Michael Shrieve offering. Still, McCann is a self-deprecating jokester the second time around and gets off several hilarious riffs during the course of the narrative. The final bonus track features a few of the people responsible for the show and for the DVD. Tom Mosk, who's parents were instrumental in getting the concert put together and promoted, is joined by Reelin' in the Years producers David Peck and Jon Kanis. This is the most nuts and bolts of all the discussions, a look at every facet of the experience. Mosk reveals the origins of the Soul to Soul concert, how James Brown was approached – and rejected – a chance to headline, and why a film of the event was made. Peck and Kanis are just flat out happy that Soul to Soul is available again, and marvel at the vibe and vision presented onscreen. And just for fun, there is about 8 minutes of video footage showing McCann, Griffin, Bowman, Mosk, Peck and Kanis as they get together in the studio to start the commentaries. Taken together, all four of these tracks represent a kind of oral history, an auditory documentary complimenting the fact film featured on the disc.

Final Thoughts:
A scholar once said that music is the international language. Perhaps a more definite statement would be that music is the INTERNAL international language. Sounds speak to each of us differently, trigger feelings and memories as separate and distinct as the snowflakes that fall from a winter sky. Surely as we move along the cultural landscape in the year 2004, we no longer live in a world of one song/one voice. Certainly, up until the time of the digital revolution, the sounds emanating from the Western nations – America, Britain and some of Europe – defined the harmonious map of the world. But starting with the 60s, and the embracing of diversity that led to so much ethnic pride, people started to discover their own sonic roots. The results were astounding. Much of the music we have today, from hip-hip to ambient, from new age to dance hall is a direct response to the breaking down of national barriers between misplaced natives and their ancestors. Soul to Soul is such a conduit. It gave many of the most important and impressive artists in the early 70s marketplace a chance to visit their native soil and to directly experience what they had felt in their spirit for so long. Not only did they leave with a sense of self, but a seed was planted, a kernel that grew and expanded until the entire planet was listening. So it may not be a movement, or one man, who started it all. What something like Soul to Soul tells us is that, in reality no one thing created it. It was there, in Africa, all along. It was just waiting for someone to unleash it.

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