Born to be mild? Amos Lee's sophomore effort for Blue Note follows firmly in the gentle guitar strums of his well-received 2005 debut and opening slots for Norah Jones and Bob Dylan. Little has changed the second time around, which will come as a relief to those enthralled by his first release. He remains a sensitive sort, mixing his insightful, reflective lyrics with lovely, unforced melodies played by backing musicians that stay on low boil. These tunes go down as smoothly as hot chocolate on a cold day, yet Lee brings an unassuming sincerity to the proceedings with his cozy, amiable voice. Comparisons to Bill Withers and James Taylor are accurate if inevitable, but when the gospel organ quivers into "Skipping Stone," it's clear Lee isn't stuck in a folk-pop rut.
Lee's approach is similar to the way Keb' Mo' treats the blues--he injects his cushy personality into an established genre, writes good if somewhat casual songs, and doesn't push the envelope too far. The final third of the album is perhaps too mellow, and a few midtempo tracks could have perked things up. But adult-contemporary fans looking for dependable Sunday morning music will welcome Supply and Demand as a quality follow-up brimming with subtle soul, style, and sophistication. --Hal Horowitz
Though Amos Lee's music is frequently described as a fusion of folk and soul, such an equation fails to reflect the singular artistry of this impressive debut. Like labelmate Norah Jones (who guests on two cuts), the Philadelphia singer-songwriter recognizes the power of simplicity, distilling an emotional essence that cuts across categories. The opening of his "Seen It All Before" echoes Bob Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door"; the stunning "Arms of a Woman" channels Otis Redding's "I've Got Dreams to Remember"; "Give It Up" cuts a classic Bill Withers groove; "Black River" has the sound of an age-old spiritual; and the closing "All My Friends" follows Van Morrison into the mystic. Throughout the song cycle, the bare-bones arrangements behind Lee's vocal flutter reinforce an organic unity that transcends genre. For all of the debts he owes to the music of the 1960s and '70s, the results sound timeless rather than retro. In his cautionary "Soul Suckers," Lee sings that "nothing is more powerful than beauty in a wicked world"--and proceeds to prove it. --Don McLeese
