Review: Stevie Wonder

By Joel Francis
The Daily Record

It took 34 on-stage musicians to turn Stevie Wonder’s inner visions into reality on Thursday night at the Fiserv Forum in Milwaukee.

Wonder’s band encompassed a 12-piece string section, six backing vocalists, a five-piece horn ensemble, two percussionists, two guitarists, two keyboard players and one drummer, bass player, guest singer, conductor and, of course, the man himself. Oh, and two of his grandchildren.

Performing in the same space that just three months ago was home to the Republican National Convention, Wonder and his expansive entourage spread a message of love, hope and joy to all people, regardless of background or political affiliation. With only 11 dates, Wonder’s Sing Your Song! As We Fix Our Nation’s Broken Heart tour is aimed primarily at swing states in the weeks leading up to the presidential election.

Flanked by his son and daughter – both of whom were in the band – Wonder took the stage and proclaimed he was “here to speak to you from the heart and spread some love.” That message shined in the opening number, “Can We Fix Our Nations Broken Heart.” Released late this summer, the song was a call for unity and understanding.

For the next two and a half hours, Wonder played most of his biggest numbers, many of which happened to reinforce his message of dropping defenses and building bridges. As polarized as the nation is right now, Wonder’s dream felt a lot less naïve when delivered via “Higher Ground” or “As.”

Wonder let the crowd take over for several songs in the first set, leading the nearly sold-out arena through “You Are My Sunshine,” which segued into “You Are the Sunshine of My Life.” The crowd also handled lead vocals for a trio of Wonder’s early hits: “For Once In My Life,” “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours,” and “My Cherie Amour.”

Other high points in the first set include the early one-two punch of “If You Really Love Me” and “Master Blaster (Jammin’).” One of Wonder’s most beautiful ballads, “Overjoyed” closed the opening portion.

After a dozen songs, Wonder introduced his latest protégé, Shelea, and took a short break. Seated behind Wonder’s grand piano, Shelea delivered a medley of Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack and Carole King songs that were well-received. A full-band performance of her original song “Something’s Coming” was better suited for the Broadway stage than the Apollo Theater. Fortunately, a dynamite version of the instrumental “Contusion” – the first of many songs from Wonder’s acclaimed album Songs in the Key of Life – brought Wonder back out and the night back on track.

The rest of the night was a powerhouse, each song building on each other, taking the audience higher and higher. The buoyant, horn-driven “Sir Duke” led right into the joyous reminiscing of “I Wish.” Wonder wrote “Isn’t She Lovely” for his newborn daughter Aisha Morris, now a grown woman who performed with the backing vocalists and brought her own children to the show. This gave way to another singalong, the worldwide smash “I Just Called to Say I Love You.” Whatever treacly sentimentality that song held in the hearts of the cynical was quickly wiped away by “Superstition.”

A few songs earlier, Wonder briefly tabled his dream of hope with a hard dose of reality, putting the plea “Love’s in Need of Love Today” against “Village Ghetto Land,” a beautiful baroque hymn of injustice and poverty. Wonder pushed even more focus on inequality and oppression with “Living for the City.” Performed consecutively, these songs were a poignant reminder of how society can’t advance until every person is able to move forward.

An extended medley of three epic numbers ended the night. First up was “Do I Do,” a horn-infected disco number that made sure everyone stayed on their feet. That gave way to the rapturous “As,” one of Wonder’s most beloved songs. Just when “As” started to fade away, Wonder kicked the band into the bossa nova groove of “Another Star” and took the energy to another level. By the time Wonder said good night he had achieved his dream of bringing people together. Everyone rejoiced as Wonder’s music cascaded over their souls. Of course, the tougher job is achieving this feeling of togetherness away from the concert. But Wonder clearly believes we are up to the task. I do, too.

Set list: First set: Can We Fix Our Nation’s Broken Heart, As If You Read My Mind, If You Really Love Me, Master Blaster (Jammin’), Higher Ground, You Are My Sunshine > You Are the Sunshine of My Life, For Once in My Life, Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours, Send One Your Love, My Cherie Amour, Overjoyed.
Shelea set: Medley: Until You Come Back to Me (That’s What I’m Gonna Do)/Feel Like Makin’ Love/ You’ve Got a Friend, Something’s Coming, Contusion.
Second set: Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing, Love’s in Need of Love Today, Village Ghetto Land, Living for the City, Sir Duke, I Wish, Isn’t She Lovely, I Just Called to Say I Love You, Superstition, Do I Do > As > Another Star.

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A survey of post-‘70s Stevie Wonder (Part One: The ‘80s)

By Joel Francis
The Daily Record

Billed as a 12-year-old genius on his third LP (released in 1963), Stevie Wonder made good on that promise less than a decade later, releasing six masterworks in as many years between 1971 and 1976. Wonder’s critical acclaim was matched by popular appeal, as he won Grammys for Album of the Year three times in four years and sent seemingly everything he touched to the top of the charts.

Yet Wonder’s output after the 1970s has been derided nearly as much as his long pinnacle has been celebrated. The release of a new digital single, “Can We Fix Our Nation’s Broken Heart,” made me realize how much I missed Wonder’s voice and sent me scurrying back to his forgotten era to see what I had overlooked.

The 1980s opened strong for Wonder. Just nine months into the new decade, Wonder released Hotter Than July, an album that continued his 1970s hot streak. From the infectious reggae groove of lead single “Master Blaster (Jammin’)” to the tender ballad “Lately,” the release touches on many of Wonder’s strengths. Hotter Than July is rightly regarded as a classic, so I won’t spend much time on it here, but I’d be remiss not to point out the beautiful “Rocket Love.” The album closes with “Happy Birthday,” a tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr. and a plea to turn King’s birthday into a national holiday. It worked.

Two years later, Wonder gifted fans with Original Musiquarium I, an unconventional double-LP collection that paired a dozen tracks from the ‘70s with one new song on each side. Of the new material, the 10-minute “Do I Do” is easily the best. “Do I Do” has an effervescent groove that could be the cousin of “Another Star.” The expansive track has room for both a Dizzy Gillespie guest spot and an exploration of the still-young world of rap. It took nearly a decade before exploring the nexus of jazz and hip hop was considered edgy. Once again, Wonder was on the vanguard. The ballad “Ribbon in the Sky” is another key new song on this collection.

Less than a month before Original Musiquarium I dropped, a single with Wonder raced to the top of the charts, a harbinger of some musical misadventures that lie ahead. Written by Paul McCartney, the simplistic ode to racial harmony “Ebony and Ivory” sat atop the U.S. pop charts for seven weeks in 1982. “Ebony and Ivory” earns all the mockery it has received. That said, I must confess the song works better in the context of McCartney’s excellent Tug of War album, where it closes the song cycle than it does as a stand-alone single. “What’s That You’re Doing?” the pair’s other collaboration on Tug of War, is better, but still feels like less than the sum of its parts.

Wonder’s reputation really started to take a hit with his 1984 soundtrack to The Woman in Red. At eight songs and 40 minutes, The Woman in Red feels slight in comparison to Wonder’s previous albums. Two duets with Dionne Warwick, a Warwick solo track and an instrumental written by someone else comprise half the album, making it feel even lighter.

Used copies of The Woman in Red are ubiquitous at flea markets, antique malls, garage sales and record stores thanks to the single “I Just Called to Say I Love You,” which topped the charts around the world and sold millions of copies. In the 40 years since its release, “I Just Called” has been the punchline for scores of jokes and memes and served as Exhibit A for proving Wonder’s muse had departed. The saccharine ballad deserves every bit of scorn lobbed its way, but Wonder’s well was far from dry, as we shall soon see.

The album ends “Don’t Drive Drunk,” a public service announcement masquerading as a musical number. This continues the trend of Wonder ending albums with a bold social declaration. Unfortunately, Wonder isn’t able to thread the needle as deftly as he did on “Happy Birthday.” Wonder’s heart is in the right place, but “Don’t Drive Drunk” is ham-fisted. The production is interesting, but there’s not much of a song. The Woman in Red’s lone redeeming spot is “Love Light in Flight,” the only time Wonder’s innovative production lines up with lyrics that are more substantial than a greeting card.

A little more than a year after The Woman in Red soundtrack, Wonder dropped his 20th studio album, In Square Circle. The world was still very much enthralled/nauseated by “I Just Called” when In Square Circle came out and the association mars the album’s reputation. While Wonder’s peak releases have a timeless feel, his later work is very much tethered to its time. In Square Circle is a very ‘80s album, which may have hurt the release for a while, but it’s been long enough that we can now embrace the once-awkward signifiers of the era.

The platter opens with lead single “Part-Time Lover,” a fine if unambitious pop song. I’m divided over the next cut, “Love You Too Much,” which somehow feels both fun and annoying at the same time. Fortunately, the strong ballad “Whereabouts” picks up the slack. “Stranger on the Shore of Love” combines a peak-era arrangement with modern production. Wonder’s production takes another step forward on the brilliant “Never in Your Sun.”

If nothing else, this exercise has been worthwhile for bringing “Never in Your Sun” to my attention. I guess I should pay more attention to Tyler the Creator, because he shouted out this song a few years ago. You can also tell the Neptunes were paying attention.

Side two isn’t as strong, but contains “Overjoyed,” one of Wonder’s all-time best ballads and another big-statement closing song: “It’s Wrong (Apartheid).” Recorded at the peak of the Artists United Against Apartheid and the “Sun City” movement, “It’s Wrong (Apartheid)” is not subtle. Wonder compares the racist institution to slavery and the holocaust, which might be accurate, but is so heavy-handed even Billy Bragg would blanch. The production saves the song. An electronic polyrhythm propels the number and an African choir reinforces Wonder’s sentiment and injects joy into the performance.

Arriving between the half-baked (and overblown) Woman in Red soundtrack and disappointing Characters (more on this in a in the next installment), In Square Circle has been unfairly maligned as a mediocre Wonder release. In Square Circle belongs in every fan’s collection and demonstrates that Wonder was still pushing boundaries as a producer and writing strong songs in the decade of decadence.

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Review: Bettye LaVette

(Above: ‘Song stylist’ Bettye LaVette captivates the crowd with an a capella version of Sinead O’Connor’s “I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got.”)

By Joel Francis
The Kansas City Star

Bettye LaVette didn’t write any of the songs she performed for 90 minutes in front of a sold-out crowd Saturday at Knuckleheads, but she owned every single one of them. It’s hard to imagine the original songwriters — including John Lennon, Pete Townshend, Lucinda Williams and Cee-Lo Green— investing more emotion than LaVette poured into her performance. Her voice ached and cracked with every syllable and her arms and legs writhed on every word.

Chatty and playful, LaVette told the audience the biggest reason why she covered Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” was so her grandchildren would think she was hip. By stripping the song of its kinetic energy and slowing the tempo way down, LaVette turned the ubiquitous hit into a cathartic confession. It also illustrated why she’d rather be called a “song stylist” than a singer.

09.03.08_bettye_lavette253At any other concert LaVette’s mournful, pleading reading of the Who’s “Love Reign O’er Me” would have been the showstopper. Saturday night it was only one of many powerful moments that earned pin-drop silence from the crowd. Other stand-out moments included “The Forecast” and the haunting country ballads “Choices” and “The More I Search (The More I Die).”

While many of the top performances were quiet, LaVette and her four-piece band did a great job of varying tempos and textures. A cover of Lucinda Williams’ “Joy” was bathed in a swampy funk. “I’m Tired” was wrapped in a twisted country-rock guitar riff. The band’s best moment came on “Your Turn to Cry” when it successfully re-reated the Muscle Shoals production from LaVette’s shelved, would-be 1972 recording.

LaVette discussed those disappointments frankly, sharing how much she wanted to be on American Bandstand and how crushed she was when the show’s producers found her debut 1962 single “My Man – He’s a Lovin’ Man” too suggestive. She said that much of her life had been pretty good, except that she was continually denied her biggest joy, the opportunity to sing.

The happiness LaVette has found over the past 10 years when her career finally started taking off was evident in the night’s final songs, “Close As I’ll Get to Heaven” and an a capella reading of Sinead O’Connor’s “I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got.”

Setlist: The Word; The Forecast; Take Me Like I Am; Choices; Joy; Your Turn to Cry; They Call It Love; Crazy; My Man – He’s a Lovin’ Man; The More I Search (The More I Die); I’m Tired; Love Reign O’er Me; Close As I’ll Get to Heaven; I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got.

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Black Joe Lewis plans new album

(Above: Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears rip up the Riot Room in Kansas City, Mo. on Valentine’s Day, 2013.)

By Joel Francis
The Kansas City Star

Thursday may be the first time Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears have headlined a show in Kansas City, but it’s far from the bandleader’s first visit.

The soul and roots music front man has lots of family in the area. For several months in the mid-’90s, his family lived with his grandmother off Cleveland Avenue.

“I was only about 15 or 16 at the time,” Lewis said. “I remember hanging out in the neighborhood playing basketball, hearing gunshots, BBQ. We weren’t there long, only about 6 months.”

black_joe_lewis_soundcheckmagazine_03Just a few years later, Lewis was busking on the streets of Austin, Texas. Five years ago, he started assembling the Honeybears, a five-piece horn and rhythm section welded tight after countless shows and miles touring by van.

Lewis has shuffled in and out of town on family visits several times over the years, but his band is in a vastly different place from when it last stopped in the area.

In 2010, when the group played the Bottleneck in Lawrence, it was touring on the back of its first full-length album, “Tell ’Em What Your Name Is!” In the two years since, the Honeybears dropped their sophomore LP and shuffled members. A third album is underway.

“Our set now is mostly new stuff, but we still play the older songs, too,” Lewis said. “It’s a lot of fun for us. We know fans sometimes want to hear stuff off the records, but they get into it. It will be nice when the record comes out and people will know what to expect.”

Right now Lewis’ plan is to get the six-piece combo in the studio once a two-week tour wraps up, then try to set up a distribution deal. Lewis said he hopes to have the album out this summer but doesn’t have a timeline. Regardless of when it’s released, Lewis can’t wait for fans to hear it.

“I feel like with what we’re doing right now, I’m putting out my first record,” Lewis said. “On a lot of it, we sound like a rock and roll power trio with a horn section.”

Sometimes songs start from skeletons worked up by Lewis or bass player Bill Stevenson. Other ideas come out of jams, either during rehearsal, sound check or a show.

“Somebody might record our jam on their phone and we’ll come back to it, but even when we’re playing live, the stuff that sounds cool, I’ll work on lyrics for it,” Lewis said. “For me the structure of the song is the meat of the song, and the lyrics put it over the top.”

Forces that compromised the band’s sound in the past are gone now. The contract is up with label Lost Highway, which commissioned DJs to create a Honeybears mix with an electronic and hip-hop flavor aimed at the dance floor. Band members who pressured Lewis to clean up the band’s sound are gone.

“To me, those first albums sound wimpy,” Lewis said. “Back in the day, different guys wanted to do different stuff, and I went with it because that goes with being in a band. Now that stuff isn’t around. I get to cut loose.”

A fully unleashed Lewis could be dangerous. There’s not a lot of sheen or timidity in the Honeybears’ catalog. Lewis doesn’t have any trouble channeling Wilson Pickett or Howlin’ Wolf. He isn’t as concerned with re-creating a specific sound or era as are contemporaries Sharon Jones, the Daptone family and Raphael Saadiq, but he works in enough similar circles to draw comparisons.

“Honestly, I think we’re doing something completely different,” Lewis said. “I feel like we’re American roots music with our own twist. Once the new record comes out, the differences will be more obvious.”

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Review: R. Kelly

(Above: This sketch has aged better than R. Kelly’s music.)

By Joel Francis
The Kansas City Star 

Plenty of R&B singers are happy to work a couple into a hot lather, and then let them retreat to more intimate surroundings. R. Kelly would be first in line to stand in the doorway and watch.

For nearly 20 years, Kelly’s sexually outrageous songs have been a staple on urban radio. Although mainstream audiences know him best for the saccharine “I Believe I Can Fly,” Saturday’s Sprint Center crowd had no problem singing along to any of his dozens of Top 40 R&B hits.

Kelly’s most recent album is “Love Letter,” an album that found channels Burt Bacharach more than “Letters to Penthouse,” but he had no trouble mixing the upscale new material with the more explicit older tunes.

“They said I shouldn’t mix the classy songs with the sex songs,” Kelly told the crowd, “but sex is classy.”

The 90-minute concert was divided into three acts. While each act was distinct, they also felt unfinished. Kelly and his tight eight-piece band rapidly flitted from song to song, rarely lingering on one number long enough to see it all the way through.

The first part included slow jams such as “Number One Hit,” “Happy People” and a chopped and screwed version of “Thoia Thoing.” During “Strip for You” Kelly encouraged women to take off their clothes for him. A few stray T-shirts flew his way.

After a short video, Kelly re-emerged with some of his best club tracks, working the crowd into a frenzy with “Fiesta,” “I’m a Flirt” and “Ignition (remix).” Kelly let the crowd handle Kelly Price’s part on their duet “Friend of Mine,” which segued into the soul rant “Real Talk.” He returned to the sultry material with “When a Woman Loves” before inviting about three dozen women from the crowd onstage for “Step in the Name of Love.”

The upper level of the Sprint Center was curtained off, but the lower bowl was mostly full. More empty seats emerged the farther one got from the stage, but both the performer and the audience’s consistently high energy made the room seem packed.

Relentlessly shuffling through Kelly’s catalog in incomplete snippets was like spending time with a sex addict with attention deficit disorder. Instead of persistently tossing pebbles at the bedroom window, the jukebox approach was more like running around the house and ringing the doorbell, testing the patio door, rapping on the windows and pulling on the storm cellar door.

Keyshia Cole and Marsha Ambrosius performed 30-minute sets, but the experiences were night and day. Ambrosius, formerly part of the duo Floetry, has the better voice, but her set was poorly paced. A diversion into old school R&B hits masked her talents and wasted set time. Her performance was nearly salvaged by a reading of Floetry’s “Say Yes” and her own “Far Away.” Cole’s set was nonstop energy. The music paused long enough for Cole to call the ladies to their feet where many remained for the rest of her set, which included anthems like “I Should Have Cheated,” “Let It Go” and “Take Me Away.” Let’s hope Ambrosius was taking notes.

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Solomon Burke’s Sweet Soul Music

(Above: Solomon Burke takes a mid-day festival crowd to church with “If You Need Me.”)

By Joel Francis
The Daily Record

Soul legend Solomon Burke died Sunday at an airport in Amsterdam. The 70-year old singer was best known for 1960s soul classics such as “Got To Get You Off My Mind” and “Everybody Needs Somebody to Love,” which was covered by Wilson Pickett and the Blues Brothers.

Although he made his name in the ‘60s, Burke released several stunning albums in the last decade of his life. His 2002 comeback “Don’t Give Up On Me” featured songs written specifically for him by Van Morrison, Elvis Costello, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Brian Wilson and Nick Lowe. In 2006, Buddy Miller helmed “Nashville,” an Americana-themed album featuring support from Emmylou Harris and Gillian Welch. 2005’s “Make Do With What You Got” is another crucial piece of Burke’s renaissance.

I never got to see Burke perform. In fact, unless I missed him at the old Blues and Jazz Fest, I can’t recall him even stopping in Kansas City in the last 15 years. I always hoped Bill Shapiro would be able to book him for one of his excellent Cyprus Avenue Live at the Folly series. Sadly, it was not to be.

But while I missed out, thousands of fans around the world were able to enjoy the king of rock and soul up close. Writer Peter Guralnick devotes an entire chapter to Burke in his classic 1986 book “Sweet Soul Music.” Plenty has been written about Burke’s musical legacy; the following recollections from the book spotlight Burke’s colorful personality.

Burke during his glory days.

Burke was signed to Atlantic Records in 1961, in part to fill the hole that had been left when Ray Charles departed for ABC. Burke had, Guralnick wrote, “a combination of Sam Cooke at his mellifluous best and Ray Charles at his deep-down and funkiest, an improbable mix of sincerity, dramatic artifice, bubbling good humor, multitextured vocal artistry.”

Music was Burke’s love, but he always had a little something extra going on the side. Before signing to Atlantic, the Philadelphia-based singer struggled to bridge the gap between gospel and something bigger. When his first independent singles didn’t perform to expectation, he briefly left the music business to become a mortician, a skill he never completely abandoned. During an early Atlantic recording session, he begged out early to return to Philadelphia where he worked a snow-removal job for $3.50 an hour.

The ability – and willingness – to deliver a wide range of musical styles, from country to soul to gospel, not only made Burke a nationwide star, but disguised his race in a still very-segregated landscape. In “Sweet Soul Music” Burke described a Friday night gig in Mississippi that looked like a dream.

“They had those big flatbed trucks with the loudspeakers hooked up, and the black people was just bringing us fried chicken and ribs,” Burke recalled. “Oh, my God, they got corn on the cob, they making cakes and pies, they got hot bread, barbecued ribs …. Oh, man, I can’t begin to tell you – it looked like the festival of the year!”

Before the band went on, the sheriff instructed them when to take the stage and end their set, and promised protection and an escort back to the highway. When the band went onstage at the appointed time Burke noticed odd lights in the distance.

“All the way as far as your eye could see was lights, like people holding a blowtorch, coming, they was just coming slowly, they was coming toward the stage,” Burke said. “They got closer and closer. Man, they was 30,000 Ku Klux Klanners in their sheets – it was their annual rally. The whole time we played we played that show those people kept coming. With their sheets on. Little kids with little sheets, ladies, man, everybody just coming up, just moving under the lights, everyone dancing and having a good time.”

True his word, the sheriff made sure there was no trouble, and the band departed unscathed – not that they lingered any longer than necessary.

In 1964, radio station WEBB in Baltimore crowned Burke the King of Rock ‘n’ Soul. Burke took the title seriously and began performing from a thrown and wearing a crown. It was his royal cape, however, that caused the biggest problem.

If you haven’t read Peter Guralnick’s wonderful book, you are missing out.

The other reigning king of R&B had featured a cape in his shows for some time, and James Brown took offense to what he considered Burke’s stealing part of the act. The feud came to a head when Brown hired Burke to open in Chicago for $10,000. That was good money for a one-night stand in the early ‘60s, made even better when Burke was told he could use the James Brown Orchestra, saving his own band expenses.

Shortly before show time, Brown’s assistant met with Burke, ensuring Burke had his throne, red carpet, robe and crown all ready to go. Burke confirmed he was ready to go. When it was time to go on, Burke was standing in the wings in full regalia as the introduction started – only the emcee introduced Brown instead.

“James came on with his cape, dancing on the carpet. That was funny, man,” Burke said. “He says, ‘Your job, just watch me. Watch the real king.’”

At one point in the show, Brown asked Burke to come onstage and place his crown on Brown’s head. Even though he never performed, the crowd chanted Burke’s name all night.

“(Brown) says ‘Solomon Burke cannot perform because he’s been decrowned,’” Burke said. “I never did find out what ‘decrowned’ meant. But it was, as I say, very amusing.”

It was also an easy way to pick up ten grand. After the show Burke told Brown he’d be willing to do the whole thing over again the next night for a discounted price of $8,000. It was a generous gesture for Burke, who while not exactly cheap, recognized – like Brown – the value of making a buck.

For example, he frequently traveled with a mini convenience store of sandwiches, orange juice, tomato juice and ice water. As the odometer turned on the tour bus, so increased the price of Burke’s goods. Otis Redding’s brother Rodgers Redding remembers one tour with Burke.

“(Burke) always carried stuff like ice water, cookies, candy, gum; even though he didn’t drink at all, you’d go into his room at the hotel and see all this, Courvoisier, different kinds of wine, the whole room would be full of booze. He’d have a hot plate, frying pan, flowers, roses, everything, just for his guests, whoever would come by.

“I remember one tour,” Redding continued, “Solomon was selling his ice water for ten cents, sandwiches for a dollar – everybody just laughed at him. By the time they got halfway there, he was selling that water for a dollar, sandwiches for $7.50!”

Jim Crow laws in the South had given Burke a captive marketplace, but also provided a generous audience in each town. Burke taught his band never to eat out after a gig – the little old ladies would always provide a nicer meal for free in their home than they could imagine at a restaurant. Sometimes they offered more.

“Them old ladies would come out with their biscuits and fresh-baked pies, they’d say ‘Here’s some fresh milk for you, son, just be sure and bring back my thermos.’ Fried chicken, barbecued ribs, ham hocks, collard greens, man it was great,” Burke said. “Then them old ladies would say, ‘Son, would you drive my granddaughter out to the main highway? Don’t you worry none, she can find her own way back.’”

Every facet of Burke’s personality converged when he played the Apollo Theater at the height of his popularity in the mid-‘60s. Playing the famed theater was a dream for most performers, but Burke, as always, wanted a little something extra. He had language included in his contract that gave him control of the theater’s concessions that night. Known for strolling the aisles at intermission and hawking wares, this is what the theater owners thought they were agreeing to. Burke, however, had other plans.

The king of Rock and Soul on his throne.

Bobby Schiffman, brother of Apollo owner Frank Schiffman, picked up the story in his other brother Jack Schiffman’s book “Uptown: The Story of Harlem’s Apollo Theater.”

“Solomon arrived … with a cooker on which he fried pork chops to sell the gang backstage, and a carton of candy,” Schiffman said. “I decided to humor him – until the truck pulled up.”

It seems Burke had recently bought into a chain of drugstores and had an abundance of popcorn. He had taken to hauling a trailer of the stuff around to his shows and passing it out. So when the Apollo deal was struck, Burke thought he had the perfect means of ridding himself of the overstocked kernels.

“I had about 10,000 stickers printed up to go on the boxes of popcorn saying, ‘Thank you for coming to the Apollo Theater from Solomon Burke, Atlantic Records Recording Artist. Your Box of Soul Popcorn,’” Burke told Guralnick.

After nearly giving the Schiffman family a collective heart attack, the two parties hastily renegotiated. In Burke’s version of the story, he agreed to take a loss on the rest of his food and cede concessions back to the theater provided he could still distribute the popcorn. In Bobby Schiffman’s version the family bought the popcorn off Burke for $50,000 provided he not sell anything else in the theater that night.

“That’s been my problem my whole life in entertainment: I utilize my educational background and maybe that makes me a little too smart for my britches,” Burke said. “They assumed my intelligence was limited, that my ability to supply a demand was limited. I wasn’t even thinking about singing that week. My biggest shot was: get rid of that popcorn. But it was the greatest publicity thing that I ever did.”

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Bettye LaVette – “Interpretations: The British Rock Songbook”

(Above: Bettye LaVette owns The Who’s “Love Reign O’er Me” at the Kennedy Center Honors in 2008. This performance helped inspire LaVette’s latest album, and is included as a bonus track.)

By Joel Francis
The Daily Record

From Rod Stewart to Barry Manilow, albums based on the 1960s and ‘70s pop song book are a dime a dozen and usually worth even less. So while the concept behind Bettye LaVette’s latest album may not be novel, the delivery certainly is. LaVette has audaciously selected a baker’s dozen of the era’s biggest songs and steals every single performance.

Throughout “Interpretations: The British Rock Songbook” LaVette not only erases Paul McCartney and Elton John’s fingerprints from “Maybe I’m Amazed” and “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me,” respectively. She scrubs off four decades of radio saturation, turning in performances that arrive sounding completely fresh.

LaVette accomplishes this feat by ignoring the original melody and phrasing and focusing entirely on the lyrics. She crawls inside the words, mining new depth and emotion and lets that frame the arrangement. Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” aches with loneliness. LaVette sneaks a reference to HIV/AIDS in “Salt of the Earth,” the Rolling Stones free-love era tribute to the working class. In “Don’t Let the Sun,” LaVette pleads with a desperation that feels like her life is hanging in the balance between light and dark. Robert Plant liked her treatment of “All Of My Love” so much he gave her the opening slot on his summer tour.

While every song fulfills the title by hailing from the United Kingdom, LaVette slyly hedges her bets with two numbers that are also associated with one of her primary influences, Nina Simone. LaVette mirrors Simone’s epic treatment and sparse arrangement of George Harrison’s “Isn’t It A Pity.” Earlier, LaVette reminds listeners that while the Animals may have had the bigger hit with “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood,” it was originally a Simone single. LaVette happily returns the gift.

Five years into her comeback, LaVette sings like something to prove. At 64 she is a contemporary of most of the performers she covers on “Interpretations.” But while most of them are content to coast by on these very songs, LaVette still sings with a hunger fueled by the decades she unjustly lost in obscurity. The force and authority in her voice make LaVette one of the most vital and compelling artists today.

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