In the 1980s Lionel Richie was the consummate troubadour, his music ruled the Top 40 countdown; an accomplished songwriter, his lyrics were ingrained in your memory whether you wanted them to be or not; you knew all of his hits—everyone knew all of his hits—because he had so many of them. He was the godfather to a new generation of R&B; the lothario of love for anyone raised on MTV. And then he was gone, a relic relegated to adult contemporary radio and cheesy VH1 Top (Whatever) Songs of the …

It was a bigger thrill than I honestly thought it was going to be— the reissue of Ten, remixed, repackaged.
I am aware of how drastically tastes can change over time, and I thought this was going to be nothing more than a dutiful purchase by a longtime fan. I have learned to distrust my memories. I used to think C + C Music Factory was the future of music. And so I doubted Ten was what I remembered; it has always been a touchstone album in my personal music collection …