ome albums are special. From the minute you hear them, you feel an immediate connection. The very best ones transport and transform us. For me, the Staple Singers’ Be Altitude: Respect Yourself is one of those records. So I felt a little trepidation when I took delivery of Craft Recordings’ new 50th Anniversary release of this seminal chapter in soul-music history. Would this edition deliver the analog goods?

My first encounter with the Staple family’s music was 1972, in the passenger seat of our family’s powder-blue Dodge Polara. When the stuttering syncopation of “I’ll Take You There” hit my teenage eardrums, I lunged for the volume dial. I can’t think of a song that does a better job of delivering the promise of its title. Mavis, Pops, Cleovus and Yvonne Staples elevate the track’s simple call-and-response groove to ever-increasing heights. To this day, it’s impossible for me to hear the cut and remain unmoved. Written by Stax songsmith Al Bell, “I’ll Take You There” embodies the supernatural power the Staple Singers, Muscle Shoals studio engineers and the Memphis Horns generated during those late-night Alabama sessions. Stories of the song’s production reveal an alchemy that only inspired improvisation and intense collaboration can produce. These artists were like talented young cooks finally given the chance to grab anything they wanted from a fully stocked kitchen.

Look no further than the song’s signature introductory guitar-and-bass line. Long before it became a common practice, the team chose to lift that riff from a 1969 reggae single by the Harry J All-Stars called “The Liquidator.” From there the song soars in stages under the fluttering electric piano work of Barry Becket until one of the most striking guitar fills in rock or soul history bubbles up at the 1:33 mark. This is not the fretwork of Pops but comes courtesy of the Muscle Shoals session guitarist Eddie Hinton, who bends and plucks those deceptively simple notes to achieve just the right emotional inflection. Pops was famous for making room at the stove for anyone who really knew how to cook.

Even when the temperature drops a bit on Be Altitude, there’s a simmering energy just below the surface that compels attention. Listen to the low-key introduction of “Respect Yourself.” The laid-back reedy vocals of Pops belie Becket’s tension-filled keyboard vamp and David Hood’s super-funky bass lines. By the time Mavis joins the proceedings and the Memphis Horns kick in, the Staples’ call for social justice is irresistible. Lines like “Take the sheet off your face, it’s a brand new day” still resonate a half-century later.

From those subtle uh-huh asides and passionate moans to the gale-force impact of her ferocious vocal assaults, Mavis is the essential ingredient in the Staple Singers’ sound. Whether it was Al Bell’s production or engineer Terry Manning’s microphone choice, I haven’t heard a better recording of a soul singer’s power than what’s captured on this record. On any given line, Mavis can go from the quietest whisper to the loudest reach-the-back-of-the-church wail. And yet, on Be Altitude there’s no evidence of overdriven microphones or overloaded inputs. This is a record that not only takes listeners to church, it brings them directly to the front of the altar, where the sweat and tears are palpable.