Mavis Staples finds the good in people on Sad and Beautiful World

Earlier solo records (including projects helmed by Prince and Curtis Mayfield) alongside and after Stapless' duties as part of the Staple Singers (a beyond legendary family group who bridged gospel, soul, funk and social commentary) didn't really take off, but Staples has been making up for lost time in more recent years, with a string of unfailingly classy records steered by collaborators such as Wilco's Jeff Tweedy and Ben Harper.

Sad And Beautiful World suggests that some of Staples' best work is happening right now. At 86, and with an awe-inspiring seven decades in the business under her belt, Staples doesn't so much sing as fully inhabit these ten songs, comprising standards from the borderlands between gospel and soul (1950s sanctified country classic "A Satisfied Mind", a beautifully languid take on Curtis Mayfield's evergreen "We Gotta Have Peace", which remains all too enduringly topical), more contemporary song selections (Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan's hard-strutting "Chicago", the sepia-tinged, dignified defiance of Gillian Welch's rural lament "Hard Times", Mark Linkous's wearily and warily hopeful title track, the end times vibes of Leonard Cohen's quietly majestic "Anthem", Kevin Morby's bittersweet mini-epic of empathy and solidarity "Beautiful Strangers", written in the aftermath of the Le Bataclan terrorist attack in Paris), and a few new tunes written specifically for this album.

What unites these disparate selections that span genres, styles and decades is a sense of battered hopefulness, a determination to stand firm in the belief in essential goodness of humanity against often overwhelming evidence to the contrary as the world rages and boils around us – as well as the undimmed power and expressive pull of Staples' voice. The story has it that Staples' early singing teacher was of the opinion that Staples' raspily spirited vocal style was in desperate need of smoothing and sanding down. You'd wish that misguided teacher could hear how Staples caresses every phrase in the beautifully glowing, slow-burn country-got-soul rendition of the title track, resulting in a consoling, nuanced performance that effectively gives the bleary woe of the original Sparklehorse recording a comforting hug. Or how Staples turns "Anthem" (originally cast in an icy frame of synths and a smooth female chorus) into a Southern Soul testimonial: when Staples sings Cohen's declaratory lines of judgement such as "I can' run no more with that lawless crowd/while the killers in high places say their prayers out loud" there is no other option but to believe every word. Next to these kinds of perfectly aligned unions of masterful songwriting and equally remarkable vocal performances, the songs written specifically for the album (uniformly strong as they are) can't help but pale a bit in comparison, with the likes of "Human Hand" somewhat straining for the gravitas and effortless conviction that Cohen, Welch and Mayfield achieve naturally.

Producer Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Waxahatchee, Hiss Golden Messenger) wisely never shifts the spotlight from Staples' vocal. The tracks on Sad And Beautiful World were reportedly built around Staples' voice, with the specific aim of not interfering with the vocals, and that mission succeeds handsomely. The arrangements are rich and warm but never feel cluttered or excessively busy. Jeff Tweedy, Justin Vernon, MJ Lenderman and Katie Crutchfield contributed to the album, but their presence is unobtrusively supportive, in stark contrast to the usual spotlight-hogging duet approach of collaborative albums between veteran performers and younger musicians. With Staples' voice having lost none of its strength, grit, warmth and suppleness since it elevated tunes like the Staple Singers's vibrant Stax classic "Respect Yourself", it's a wise choice: vocal the performances throughout Sad And Beautiful World could provide a neat summary for the phrase 'sing it like you mean it'.

The exception is a fiery take on "Chicago", which allows the gnarly, biting duelling guitars of Derek Trucks and 89-year old Chicago Blues legend Buddy Guy to take on a co-leading role with Staples, whose subtle yet steely approach sheds fresh light on the song's all-too-topical themes of people taking flight in hope of a brighter future from familiar but oppressive surroundings. It's a bravura performance from all concerned; for all the album's unquestionable strengths, you may wish for a drop more of the same raw sawdust-kicking passion and bite during some of the more restrained proceedings that follow.