Listening to Shelly Hughes is like dripping honey on your tongue. Funky enough to move your hips. Seductive like lace curtains blowing in the wind. Deep. Deep like your most secret places. A new voice for Australian soul has emerged, winged and splendid. Nocturnal and beautiful. Soaring. Owlish.
Shelly Hughes and Dan Brown are the masterminds of this new frontier of funk. This soul revelation. It’s in their bones, in their blood. They’ve got decades of the sound ingrained into their very being. They’ve prayed at the church of Al Green. And apparently, the soul music messiah was listening.
The recently released album Where the Owl Was stands as feathered testimony to this sound. It’s solid. It will make you want to dance, then make love, then dance some more (clothing optional).
See Shelly at the Sphinx Rock Cafe on Sunday.
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
