One thing should be clear after a career that has spanned two decades and 10 albums: however hard industry types may try, Keb’ Mo’ is not an artist you can classify or contain within a single genre. Playfully and confidently mixing contemporary blues with pop, soul, funk and even the occasional country influences, Mo’ can always be relied on to deliver a tasty stew of influences that’s like musical comfort food, smooth here and spicy there, familiar yet playful. He might offer different flavors and shadings, but the character of the music is always ultimately his own—philosophical, wise and upbeat, though unafraid to look at the hard questions as well.
The singer-songwriter born Kevin Moore has chosen to make The Reflection a family affair, adding to the layers of meaning contained in the album title. Moore produces the album himself, features wife Robbie Brooks-Moore as a background vocalist on several tracks, and turns thoughtful closer “Something Within” into a virtual family reunion, with his namesake son on drums, his sister on vocals and on and on. All of this gives the album a loose, intimate feel that’s perfect for Moore’s laidback approach to a set of songs about the trials and pleasures of mid-life.
Opener “The Whole Enchilada” is a gently grooving gospel-funk number where Mo’ questions the resolve of a guy who’s settled down and started a family and is now sitting there trying to figure out what happens next. “Are you gonna be / Any better / Than the man you had to be to get her?” he asks pointedly, decorating this probing vignette with tasty blues licks and a rich chorus of background vocals.
“Inside Outside” accents the funk with a steady, driving bass line and call-and-answer with the same background chorus as “Enchilada,” delivering a sharp message about surface versus interior integrity featuring this lyrical nugget; “When you point one finger, three point back.” “All The Way” is four minutes of joyful noise, a gospel-tinged celebration of commitment. 
The title track has an unexpected feel at first—a lounge-jazz treatment with tinkly piano, gentle acoustic guitar, and a simple rhythm track. It’s thoughtful and reflective (natch), but the arrangement feels off; Moore’s whole appeal is that his musical persona is so earthy and real, making this ultra-smooth approach ring false, at least until the song eventually finds a little grit toward the end.
“Crush On You,” featuring India.Arie, is a sweet number about revitalizing that old flame after you’ve achieved “The Whole Enchilada.” Further demonstrating his range, Moore, who co-wrote “I Hope” with the Dixie Chicks for their 2006 album Taking The Long Way, teams with Vince Gill for “My Baby’s Telling Lies Again,” a well-crafted duet that adds Gill’s keening harmony vocals to a rather familiar lyric about a woman who done them both wrong.
Still, it was all feeling a little too clean and smooth until we arrived at number nine, the devastating “We Don’t Need It.” As Moore’s everyman narrator sits his family down to explain he’s been laid off, and then absorbs their infused-with-grace responses, Moore reminds us of his gift for bringing the emotional core of a situation to the fore and laying it out in simple, powerful terms.
“Just Lookin’” follows with perfect contrast, a sassy, finger-snapping blues-funk with clavinet and a full horn section, about a man with a wandering eye that’s getting him in trouble, and his attempts to talk his way out of it. The introspective “Walk Through Fire” offers still a third vantage point on marriage and mid-life, though more James Taylor in its approach than Robert Johnson.
The one real misstep on this album falls right in the middle, at track number six. I don’t know just what possessed Mr. Moore to remake the Eagles’ “One Of These Nights” as a shimmering lounge-jazz shuffle, and I do tip my hat to him for his musical courage, but this one just doesn’t work. I’m sure the addition of Dave Koz’s soaring sax solo is intended to add a touch of sophistication, but in practice it only accentuates the smooth-jazz awkwardness of this remake.
On his best albums (Just Like You, Slow Down, Keep It Simple), there’s an edge underlying even Keb’ Mo’s most straightforward, poppy songs, an emotional volatility and acerbic playfulness that’s very characteristic of the blues. By contrast, The Reflection is, for the most part, all smoothness and light, draining a lot of the snap and spice out of this otherwise solid song cycle. For a singer-songwriter, contentedness can be a double-edged sword.