Martin Luther is explaining the Trojan-horse strategy he's devised for breaking out of his billing as San Francisco's best-kept soul secret. He punches up a song on his Macintosh, sending a lilting, melodic riff out into his claustrophobic Hunters Point home studio, a crisp drum machine tapping out the tempo of a ballad. "This could be the only time for us/ Baby take your time/ Don't you rush," Luther sings. The tune's seduction is as straightforward as drawn shades and rose... More >>>