"Dust" (Van Hunt)

"Neo-soul."  Such an uninspired term.  It means nothing.  When you consider that everyone from Musiq to The Roots have been lumped into that genre (and I use the term "genre" loosely) at some point in their careers, it's clear that "neo-soul" is little more than greasy record exec-speak for "we don't know how to pigeonhole you."
Case in point: Van Hunt. 
I heard the song "Dust" from his self-titled debut for the first time at a Starbucks in suburban Charlotte back in 2004.  At the counter, they had the CD for sale with a description beneath it—something pulled from an online review that referred to Hunt as "a neo-soul crooner."
I had to wonder if the reviewer even had ears.  "Neo-soul crooner?"  If anything, I heard tinges of Funkadelic's raw, twisted funk, circa Maggot Brain.  A little of Sly Stone's Fresh.  Station to Station-era Bowie.  Maybe even a bit of post-punk (note the jittery crunch of the rhythm guitars backing him on the track).
What I did not hear was some "crooner" on a quest to make panties drop.
The lyrics alone to "Dust" reveal a deeper ambition than that.  Hunt's carefully chosen words convey someone in a tenuous mental state.  Whether it's the product of personal anxiety or chemical-fueled paranoia is not clear.  Lines like So you see, it's no blow to my sophistication / That I've gone crazy again could go either way.  Even the title and chorus leave you wondering.
And that's the intrigue of the song.  That's the complexity of this artist.  That's pure soul.  No "neo" to it.