Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. XXXVII--Sam Cooke: You Send Me

The Beautiful Girl and I will celebrate 13 years together tomorrow, and while I'm not sure if she's familiar with Sam Cooke or "You Send Me," I'm going to presume it's the thought behind the song that counts....

I was introduced to the music of Sam Cooke by my father (and I would later introduce my daughter to the joy of listening to him) when I was still a young man, and now that I'm a not so young man I can honestly say that even the worst of days can be made a little bit better by listening to the man many consider the King of Soul.  Cooke started out as a gospel singer, but by the late fifties he would branch out into R & B and Pop.  Between 1957 and 1965, Cooke had 33 Top 40 hits (most of which he wrote himself) and still found time to found his own record label, publishing company, and  be active in the Civil Rights Movement.  He would later become a charter member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame, and be ranked 16th on Rolling Stone's list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time.

Sadly, Cooke was shot to death in late 1964 after a dispute at a hotel in Los Angeles (many have questioned the circumstances of his death) at the all too young age of 33.

As for "You Send Me," it is considered Cooke's signature song.  Released in 1957, it would appear the next year on his Songs by Sam Cooke LP.  The song spent three weeks at Number One on the Billboard Hot 100, and eventually was named one of the 500 most important recording of all time by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, as well as ranking #115 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500  Greatest Songs of All Time.

I could tell you about Cooke's silky smooth vocal delivery, or the pure unadulterated joy that infuses the song, or its timeless brilliance, or that absolutely no one on the planet before or since can sing "Whoa" like Cooke did, but all you need to know is this:  if there is a heaven, I can guarantee you that Jesus Christ himself has covered "You Send Me," and that all twelve of his Apostles and Mary Magdalene begged to be on backing vocals.

As for you, Beautiful Girl, know that after thirteen years you still "...send me, honest you do, honest you do, honest you do, whoa...."

Enjoy:

Peace,

emaycee

Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. XXI--Hall and Oates: She's Gone

Because no one ever wrote a song about a lost love....

Back when I was still a young man, Hall and Oates were my introduction to what is known as blue-eyed soul and while there are artists whose work I have followed more closely through the years than Hall and Oates (Van Morrison, Rod Stewart, Boz Scaggs) there is still a soft spot in the heart for those early lessons.  They pretty much lost me after their Voices album (like they cared--they enjoyed massive popular success thereafter), but I can still put on any of their songs from 1974-1980 and be mesmerized.

Such is the case with "She's Gone," a beautiful ballad about losing the love of your life.  Originally released in 1974 on their Abandoned Luncheonette album, the song was a mediocre hit (#60 on the Billboard Hot 100--with a bullet!) until Hall and Oates had their first top ten hit with "Sara Smile" (also a wonderful song) in 1976 at which time "She's Gone" was re-released (capitalism at its finest!) and became their second top ten hit.  Little did they know that some forty years later they would be inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame.

Daryl Hall would later say that he thought "She's Gone" was the best song he and John Oates wrote, and I wouldn't disagree.  Often overlooked when it comes to rock's great vocalists, Hall's vocals (concurrent with Oates' background vocals) are really what make the song.  There is a back and forth between the two that is magical and stretches the boundaries of white boy soul (and turns me into a split personality every time I hear it as I try to sing along to both parts).  Throw in a dandy little guitar solo from Oates, a touch of saxophone, and an eerie intro and a couple of kids from Philadelphia had one hell of a song.

And who among us hasn't had a love we'd "pay the devil to replace"?

Enjoy:

Peace,

emaycee

Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. XIX--Ray Charles: What'd I Say, Pts. I & II

One of the last memories I have of my father is him sitting in the kitchen of his and my Mom's home in Ohio, smiling and swaying to Eric Clapton singing "San Francisco Bay Blues" from Clapton's Unplugged album.  By that time, chemotherapy had taken most of his hair, left his cheeks puffy, and made him feel like vomiting every time he moved.  Still, the joy he felt as he listened was palpable, and I could tell from the glow on his face that music was an old and trusted friend that he was going to miss dearly when his time was done.

Had my father lived, he would have been eighty-one years old today.  More importantly, because he lived a love of music was imbued in all of his family and will remain with us until our time here on earth is done as well.  My family, my sister's family, my brother's family--music is as much a part of our lives as our toes and fingers.  There's nothing like a "You've gotta hear this song!" e-mail from my kids, or my brother, my brother-in-law, and myself playing our half-assed version of Name That Tune, with my nephew playing the emcee.

When my father passed away I was the very lucky recipient of his record collection.  My father loved God, his family, America,and Ray Charles, in that order.  While the ranking for Ray Charles may be a bit of hyperbole, by my count I own better than fifty Ray Charles albums--ninety-nine percent of which were purchased by my father.  I had the pleasure of seeing Brother Ray in Decatur, Illinois in 1983, and I can tell you it is still one of my fondest concert recollections.

Here's all you need to know (though I'll have more to say for certain) about "What'd I Say":  If an alien came down to earth and asked, "What is this 'Rhythm and Blues' of which you speak?" all you would have to do is play "What'd I Say" and by song's end the alien would understand (and presumably beg you for more).  Released in 1959, the song is considered Charles' signature tune, was his first gold record, and is listed at #10 (with a bullet!) on the Rolling Stone list of the five hundred greatest songs ever.

Part I is one of the longest and funkiest instrumental intros you'll ever hear as Charles' fingers dance all over the piano, and Part II is some of the most soulful vocals you'll ever hear, with a touch of fun thrown in with the back and forth "Ohs" traded between Charles and his backup singers, the Raelettes.  Frankly, if you're not shakin' all over when you hear this song, you're either tone deaf, in a coma, or dead.  "What'd I Say" is a true piece of musical genius by a true American musical icon.

Fun Factoid #1:  My father was a hell of a dancer.  At my first wife and I's wedding, after my parents had cut a wicked rug, one of the guests came up to me and said, "I never knew your parents before today, but after watching them dance, I'll never forget them."  Some years later my mother would tell me that when my father was young, they would clear the dance floor for him (a la John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever) to watch him dance--though she was quick to point out that he had a partner, too, because their generation wasn't quite as self-centered....

Fun Factoid #2:  "What'd I Say" was released the same year I was born.  Coincidence?  I think not....

Here's where I usually find some pithy way to tie in a link to the lyrics, but this time I'll just tell you the lyrics are here, and say Thanks, Dad--your love for music is ensconced in our DNA and it has given us immeasurable joy.  And it's something we'll all miss dearly when we're gone, too.

Enjoy:

Peace,
emaycee