Not quite a lost classic and hardly considered a hit in its own time, this accomplished solo debut from an enduring talent is not some mere soul curio. Unlike records rereleased to satisfy some obsessive collectors' lust for digging up obscure R&B regardless of true quality, this album succeeds on its own merits and the potency of its performances.
Ronnie McNeir may not be a household name even among R&B fans, yet those same soul lovers might discover his name repeatedly in the liner notes of some of their favorite albums. Since his youthful beginnings, he has built an impressive career, arranging and recording with Smokey Robinson, Teena Marie, former Temptations Eddie Kendricks and the inimitable David Ruffin, as well as The Four Tops, in which McNeir has been a full-time member for much of the past decade. Despite his age, McNeir already had notable credits under his belt having served as musical director for singer Kim Weston, whose husband William "Mickey" Stevenson served an executive producer on this album.
The overarching and presumably somewhat autobiographical theme grapples with the death and subsequent rebirth of a romantic relationship, replete with segues of staged conversations had by the reunited couple ("In Summertime" opens with one such example and unexpectedly carries it deeper into the song). Recorded when he was only 22, McNeir's bold attempt to create a conceptual soul opera with his first full-length album seems too ambitious given his youth. Truth be told, more mature soulsmiths have fared better in this terrain, not the least of which being the great Marvin Gaye with 1978's unparalleled benchmark Here, My Dear. Nonetheless, the superb performances on Ronnie McNeir from talented session players of the day along with those of the album's prodigious namesake negate the dubiousness of its lofty objectives.
The album starts strong with "Extra Extra," a snappy number tapping into one of the standard soul lyric templates, with McNeir bitterly bemoaning the theft of his woman's affections by another man—a friend and confidant at that. Loosely framing this tragic state of affairs as newsworthy, the titular gimmick surprisingly works, though the peppy groove deserves at least some credit. However, things begin to get even more interesting by the second track, "Daddy's Coming Home," which shifts attention from lamenting the loss a lover to trying to explain the situation to the product of their union: his son. McNeir acknowledges his roots in subtle ways without diversifying the overall vibe here too dramatically. The upbeat and funky "Trouble's A Loser" hints at a bluesy heritage while "I'm So Thankful" veers dangerously almost blasphemously close to gospel territory with its trio of female vocalists carrying the handclap-laden chorus.
Originally released via RCA Victor, this long unavailable record should not be confused with his hard-to-find 1975 self-titled effort for Motown's Prodigal sublabel. Since first hearing the former, I've started examing my record collection for McNeir contributions based on the strength of this one, already finding no small delight in discovering that he (along with "quiet storm" pioneer Leon Ware) provided backing vocals to much of David Ruffin's underrated Gentleman Ruffin. Though not packed with instantly memorable singles, Ronnie McNeir is a soulful grower of an album, a celebration of mutual love rediscovered, ideal for the other 364 days of the year that aren't Valentine's Day.
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