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And so Green and Mitchell reassembled much of his original band, including guitar-and-bass-playing brothers Teenie and Leroy Hodges. The result is the new album ''I Can't Stop,'' at once a throwback to classic '70s R&B and a 2003 primer in sensuous soul. They cut it at Royal, a dowdy little former movie theater on a dusty little side street in Memphis. Green sang into the exact same microphone -- ''an RCA No. 9,'' says the singer -- he used in the '70s, and Mitchell manned much of the same gear. ''Every year, the Japanese make some new kinda equipment, and my sons [who help run the studio] wanna take all this stuff out, this old board. But these ears hear what they hear and I record that. I don't need no f -- -in' digital s -- -. My son says we need some Pro Tools,'' he says, referring to the computer software a lot of albums are recorded on these days. ''They cost me $50,000. I said, 'We don't need no f -- -in' Pro Tools. Let's be real!'''

So what were the sessions like, getting back together after all these years? ''Very smooth,'' says Green. Mitchell is more voluble: ''This was shorter. Back in the old days, to put his voice on 'Tired of Being Alone,' it was eight days, every day from 6 p.m. till 4 o'clock in the morning. I'd say, 'Al, you sound like Sam Cooke [on that take]; you sound like Jackie Wilson. I wanna hear Al Green!' I talked to him like he was a dog. He cried one night, during 'Let's Stay Together,' 'cause I told him, 'I ain't heard Al Green yet.' He left and came back about 20 minutes later, and he cut the song properly, as himself. After we done, he said, 'Let me sing it again.' I said, 'You can sing it all night long -- I got what I want!''' Mitchell laughs so hard, he begins to cough.

I look up and notice, scratched into the ceiling of the recording studio, a kind of prayer-poem, written in lowercase letters:

we the willing led by the unknowing are doing the impossible for the ungrateful we have done so much for so long with so little we are now qualified to do anything

I recite these words to Green later. ''Willie's motto,'' he says quietly.

Back in Green's church office, the singer looks a little tired. His face is puffier than it was when he was making girls scream a quarter century ago, and he says he's still worn out from taping a Justin Timberlake TV special that is set to air on NBC Nov. 28. By the way, Al: You and Justin, duetting on ''Let's Stay Together''? How'd that happen? ''We've kind of been neighbors for about eight years,'' Green explains. ''His mom lives where I live, in Shelby Forest, Tennessee.'' His take on Timberlake? ''He's a talented, young, aspiring artist -- he's gonna be just fabulous,'' says Green with apparent earnestness, then adds impishly, ''I'm not as big as he is; I'm just a little tadpole out in this big pond.'' He breaks into a big grin and claps his hands, laughing. (Note: Al Green laughs a lot; he is one happy man.)

He loves his new CD; he keeps it playing as we talk, occasionally stopping to sing along or point out a good horn-section part. He's going to tour to promote the album, and do some TV, including Leno and Letterman. ''I still get nervous before I go on stage,'' he admits. ''I walk up and down like a wild animal.'' Just then, his aching new ballad ''Rainin' in My Heart'' comes on, and he leaps to turn it up.

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