While not as rough or tough as some of his fellow R&B singers, it seemed to touch an inner sensitivity and his vocal delivery reflected the kind of preaching style of gospel and church choirs.
With bass as heavy as rolling stock, and field recordings from the subway tannoy echoing along almost empty train carriages late at night, Margo Williams's vocals supply the inner city funk menace with some almost ethereal soul.
Their alarm calls seem less like words and more like a person saying "Ouch!" a vocal representation of an inner mental state rather than an attempt to convey exact information.
Then there was the band: Sharon Robinson, cowriter of some of his best recent songs, chaired the vocal section with emotional texture and inner beauty, especially when she took the lead on "Boogie Street".
On his new album, he ignores pretense and overkill and happily embraces his inner Hornsby, Sting, and Bono, tossing hooks and vocals about like the pros of yore.
Chance has also been vocal about issues surrounding police brutality, inner-city violence, the #BlackLivesMatter movement, and media representations of Chicago (most recently, his critique of director Spike Lee and his new film "Chiraq").
The inner voices tended to recede into the sometimes complex vocal and instrumental textures.
Most songs ended with long fade-outs, achieved without a volume knob, in which rhythms, vocal lines and guitar parts let their inner workings glimmer before disappearing into silence.
Those were the times wherein they really apply vocal harmonization and you can feel the inner "message" of the songs by hearing it.
"I do a movement and vocal meditation that goes into the cells, heightening inner awareness.
