From the opening bars, John McCullough's Hammond organ announces itself with the kind of ecclesiastical warmth that Billy Preston once brought to Apple Studios, all gospel-inflected runs and vintage swagger. McCullough, perhaps best known for his work alongside Van Morrison, proves the perfect foil for Reel's vision here. His keys don't simply accompany the song—they inhabit it, breathing life into every measure with the kind of lived-in authenticity that cannot be manufactured. The production wisely steps back, allowing these elements to breathe and interact organically, reminiscent of that raw, documentary quality Peter Jackson captured in *Get Back*.
What strikes most forcefully about "Bring It Back To Life" is its refusal to cosplay the past while still drawing deeply from that well. The Beatles influence hovers over proceedings like a benevolent ghost, but Reel has absorbed those lessons rather than merely xeroxing them. The groove sits comfortably in that sweet spot between rootsy rock and R&B shimmer, propelled forward by a rhythmic confidence that speaks to someone who has spent decades honing their craft across eleven previous studio albums.
The song's genesis—written during the pandemic's aftermath—could have resulted in tired platitudes or heavy-handed messaging. Instead, Reel delivers something more nuanced: a rallying cry that acknowledges the weight of our contemporary moment without being crushed by it. Global tensions, health crises, fractured communities—all the detritus of our current malaise gets acknowledged without being dwelt upon. The lyrics encourage self-belief and perseverance without slipping into self-help bromides, a difficult tightrope that Reel navigates with the assuredness of a seasoned performer.
Vocally, Reel brings that weathered warmth critics have variously compared to Roy Orbison and Bruce Springsteen—though such comparisons, while flattering, risk obscuring what makes his voice distinctly his own. There's a lived-in quality to his phrasing, a sense that these aren't merely words being sung but truths being wrestled with in real time. The delivery balances power with vulnerability, never overselling the emotional content while ensuring every line lands with appropriate weight.
The arrangement reveals its depth on repeated listens. What initially presents as straightforward roots-rock opens up to reveal layers of textural sophistication: the interplay between keys and rhythm section, the strategic deployment of dynamics, the way space gets used as effectively as sound. This is music made by people who understand that sometimes what you leave out matters as much as what you include.
"Bring It Back To Life" positions itself as more than simple entertainment—Reel explicitly frames it as "a rallying cry for faith, resilience, and the enduring power of the human spirit." Such lofty ambitions could easily collapse under their own weight, yet the song earns its optimism through musical craft rather than mere assertion. The vintage warmth and gospel flourishes don't feel like affectation but rather the natural vocabulary for expressing hope in troubled times.
If *Spirit's Not Broken* maintains this level of songcraft and emotional intelligence when it arrives next January, Reel will have delivered something substantial—an album that speaks to our moment while remaining rooted in timeless musical values. For now, "Bring It Back To Life" stands as compelling evidence that this Irish songwriter, thirty-five years into his career, still has vital things to say and increasingly refined ways of saying them. The spirit, indeed, remains unbroken.