Keb’ Mo’ grew up in Compton, California, listening to Nat King Cole, the radio and the singers he heard in church. He found his way into music through guitar, steel drums, the blues and a long list of musicians who caught his ear. While working under his given name, Kevin Moore, his first professional work came in the early 1970s with Papa John Creach, an experience he recalls as “a total blessing.” Now just days away from turning 75, Keb’ Mo’ is still making records, touring and looking for something that keeps him interested.

“Making a record is always trial and error,” he tells BGS. “You’re trying things and deciding what guitar parts work, what doesn’t work. And now you have this whole other thing where, like, every day, 800,000 songs come out worldwide. There’s so much music being put out there. So, you’re trying to figure out how to cut through all that. I just try to communicate authentically and put my best foot forward.”

Keb’ Mo’s new album, The Breakdown, came after an especially rough stretch. On tour in 2024, he developed severe shortness of breath and learned that he had a leaking heart valve and an aortic aneurysm. He underwent major heart surgery that September. Around the same time, his marriage of nearly two decades was ending, and his home studio needed to be repaired. The Breakdown came together during that period. Although Take 6 and the Soweto Gospel Choir make appearances, the album is mostly scaled back to just his voice and guitar, while the songs touch on recovery, faith, aging, loss and the simple hope that tomorrow might look different.

BGS: You’ve talked about taking special care of your voice for this record. What kind of work did you do on the vocals?

Keb’ Mo’: I do a lot of vocal warming up. I warm up my vocals and then I rest. I make sure it’s got air and I’m shaving off the loose hair, you know? I’m not a great singer, but I like to at least be able to tell a story.

You’ve always had an appreciation for great singers. Who do you listen to when you’re thinking about that kind of singing?

Otis Redding. Charlie Wilson. James Ingram. Marvin Gaye. Great singers have technique, musicality, physicality. They have beautiful instruments and they know how to use them.

I know you’re a Los Angeles native. Tell me about your connection to Compton.

My sister lives there. I have a small house there, and I hang out in the neighborhood. That’s where I grew up. A lot of memories come back when I’m there. Some of my friends still live there. The title cut of [the 2022 album] Good to Be came from being in my garage in Compton with Money Mark Ramos. He was in Silver Lake and I was in Compton, and we were just talking about life in Los Angeles and the magic of it. That song came out of that.

Were your first gigs there too?

Not really. Compton was more of a bedroom community. There weren’t a lot of places for kids to play. I went into Los Angeles for gigs. I played in a steel band in Compton, and I had a high-school cover band. We played school dances, proms, cafeterias, social events, things like that.

You grew up with the Southern traditions of your elders, and church singers were important to you. What did you learn from those singers?

My family had Southern heritage and traditional music. We didn’t have a huge record collection. I had a stereo by middle school. Nat King Cole was one of the people I listened to, and then there was the radio. But the church singers were a major inspiration because I heard that live Southern Baptist tradition every Sunday. You’re hearing the African American experience right there. That set a pretty high bar. I figured some of the ways out by using words, being more of a word person and a melody guy, and understanding how music was built.

Do you still listen to gospel singers like that?

Yeah. I listen to Marvin Sapp, Shirley Caesar and people like that on SiriusXM and streaming. Every now and then I’ll go to church. But sometimes on Sunday I just want to stay home.

The song “Hand It Over” has a long history, but this version on The Breakdown brings in the Soweto Gospel Choir. How did that happen?

I was introduced to the Soweto Gospel Choir through a musical safari in South Africa. It was sponsored, and we went over there and did workshops and lessons and group singing. I met the Soweto Gospel Choir, and the leader arranged a version of “Hand It Over.” I sat on it for about four years before I decided to use it.

You actually recorded it in Johannesburg?

Yeah, at Flame Recording Studios. It was on prison grounds, where Mandela was staying for a while. We recorded there. And I went into the township and hung out at Vusi Mahlasela’s house. The first time I went to South Africa, I saw a lot of wildlife, too.

Did being in South Africa give you a different perspective on your own roots?

Yeah. I mean, we got robbed, you know, as African Americans. We’ve been here for generations, and we lost a lot of the culture of where we came from. But African culture is pretty cool too.

Who are some singers and musicians you enjoy listening to who might be on the lesser-known end—somebody I could get into and explore?

I’ve always been more focused on guitar players. I never tried to imitate singers because I couldn’t make their sounds. With blues, I listened to B.B. King, Little Milton, Robert Johnson, Son House, Muddy Waters. I especially like musicians who came straight out of Mississippi and those plantation roots—Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Big Bill Broonzy. Bobby “Blue” Bland. John Lee Hooker. I like getting into where the music came from, not just the later people.

You’ve spent a lot of time in Mississippi. Were you more interested in the music than in being a tourist?

I’m not much of a tourist. I’d rather listen to the music. I’ve been to Clarksdale around New Year’s Eve. In 1993, I went to Greenville, Mississippi, and studied with Eugene Powell, [who recorded as] Sonny Boy Nelson. I went to his house every day for about two weeks. He was a big influence on me.

“One Day Away” has a strong spiritual component. Where does that come from for you?

Faith is universal. It’s not necessarily one dominant denomination. It’s the universe, God, whatever you want to call it. Your words and your actions are infinitely connected. What you speak, what you ask for, what you do—it all matters. Florence Scovel Shinn said, “Your words are your wand.” I believe that. I speak and think things into existence. It keeps proving itself to me. You get out of life what you put into it.

Photo Credit: Rachel Deeb