"I read this article about the Blind Boys of Alabama," says Michael Spiby, "and it reminded me that the soul of a song is something you can catch quickly, in one or two takes. It made me wonder what the hell all the fuss is about. You can really get stuck into studio mode, which is the absolute opposite of what's going on in this album. This is the way it should be."

Barefoot is not the first album the former Badloves frontman has recorded since his impeccably crafted solo debut of 2000, Ho's Kitchen, but it's the first he's felt happy enough to release. After five years of painstaking studio experimentation, these fast and loose recordings are the first to measure up to his criteria as a passionate devotee of pure soul music. Go figure.

"I chose songs where I was just allowed to be me," he says. "The whole album felt almost like a reflex: play the songs, bring in a few friends, a bit of synergy, away you go. It's a pretty simple recipe really."

With the deft touch of a handful of veteran performers, the lean acoustic sessions at Sydney's Clam Shoals Studios have arguably delivered the definitive versions of Badloves hits "Lost", "Green Limousine", "Spirit In The Sky", "Memphis", "Sugar Daddy", "Barefoot Bride" and "Living Thing".

Aptly enough, Michael's only new composition here is "Five Blind Boys", a gospel piano amble that might be read as a tribute to his spiritual forebears: "Soul brothers down to a man/ five blind boys help me understand."

Speaking of forebears, Barefoot is also a record of his fearless instincts as an interpreter. Highlights include Al Green's "Rhymes", Jackson Browne's "Doctor My Eyes" and a daring waltz-time retake of the Bee Gees' "Jive Talking": a smoky duet with Sydney singer Meg O'Reilly with ex-Weddo Mark Wallace making one of several squeezebox cameos.

"I hesitated to do Cat Stevens," Michael says of his heartfelt version of "Miles From Nowhere". "Some songs are like sacred cows, songs I wouldn't want to cover cause they mean so much to me. But the point was not to be precious. What the hell? I'm just a fan. That's me pretending, like when you put on your dad's shoes."

After all these years and road miles, it's hardly surprising that they fit so beautifully. Ultimately, Barefoot is about the singer, not the song; an effortless revelation of the unique stuff inside Michael Spiby's musical soul.

"It was an exciting sidestep, like a detour down a backstreet," he says. "It put me back on track by showing me how simple it can be. I kinda forgot that I was OK at my craft of performance, that I could do it live and be able to live with it. The music is there. It really is just about letting it come through."