Donny Hathaway died in 1979 at the age of 33. He was a casualty of mental illness. Afflicted with severe chronic depression and ultimately diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, he leapt to his death out of a New York City hotel room.
To see him there in the studio at about 21 years old, directing all these real big session guys like he’d been doing it for years, was a tremendous sight to see. But he always believed in himself. He always believed in his talent. He wasn’t conceited about it, but he knew he could do anything these guys could do and almost certainly better. I’d have loved to sign him as artist, but it wasn’t to be.
*****
Bassist Christian McBride on Donny Hathaway:
You can tell that he listened to Stravinsky. He listened to Debussy. He was a musician who was the full 360-degree circle.
John Legend & The Roots, live (recording studio), 2010
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Baby Huey & the Babysitters, 1971 (The Baby Huey Story: The Living Legend, produced by Curtis Mayfield and released, posthumously [the singer died, at 26, in 1970], on Curtom Records)
I must have seen Baby Huey & the Babysitters at least a half-dozen times. In the late ’60s they played the Chicago area teen clubs. Tight rhythm section, punchy horns, soulful vocals—what could be, at 16, a finer date?
Yesterday he sang gospel; today he sings soul music.
O.V. Wright
“I Feel Alright,” live, Memphis, 1975
*****
“I’d Rather Be Blind, Crippled, And Crazy” (Back Beat Records, 1973)
*****
“Drowning On Dry Land” (Back Beat Records, 1973)
*****
“A Nickel And A Nail” (Back Beat Records, 1975)
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lagniappe
Soul is church. Just changing ‘Jesus’ to ‘baby.’ That’s all it is.
—O.V. Wright
*****
Somehow, someway, O.V. Wright continues to be a mystery. Though he spent his entire life in Memphis, recorded with [producer] Willie Mitchell and was a contemporary of everyone from Otis Redding to Al Green, Wright remains a largely unheralded figure.
Hardcore soul enthusiasts and R&B historians have consistently ranked him among the most evocative and powerful singers of all time, yet his troubled life and tragically early death at the age of 41 in 1980 have consigned him to the margins of music history.
“I remember Willie Mitchell saying, after we lost O.V. — and I never will forget this — Willie said he was the greatest singer that was ever on the planet,” recalls drummer Howard Grimes.
***
Wright was revered by his peers, including a young Al Green. “Al used to come in and try and listen to O.V. record,” recalls Willie Mitchell, laughing. “And O.V. would see him and say, ‘Al, what you doing here? Get out of my session!'”
***
“He just had more church in him,” says Howard Grimes. “That’s what touched people.”
[Otis] Clay recalls being in the audience when Wright turned a Miami nightclub into a revival meeting. “Man, he whipped that audience into a frenzy like I’ve never seen,” says Clay. “You would’ve thought he was a preacher passing out blessings. He’d say, ‘If you love the blues, come up and shake my hand.’ And, man, people lined up, just like they would in church. That was typical O.V.”
While at the Art Institute the other day, I wandered into a small room of paintings by this guy—who, in his early 20s (in the 1950s), moved to New York to study music with Lennie Tristano.
Robert Ryman, from The Elliot Room (Charter Series), 1985-87
Professor Longhair (AKA Henry Roeland [“Roy”] Byrd), December 19, 1918-January 30, 1980
“Tipitina,” live
*****
“Hey Little Girl,” live
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lagniappe
mail
Mike Kinnamon, Bonnie Bramlett’s Nashville-based manager, in response to an email letting him (and Bonnie) know that her music was featured here (Delaney, alas, is no longer alive), left a voice-mail message yesterday:
. . . I just love it when somebody like you cares enough to send stuff like that around. It’s really cool, and it lifts her [Bonnie] up, too. Thank you so much, buddy . . .
Today, celebrating our 300th post, we revisit a few favorites.
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3/12/10
Both Chicago blues artists. Both guitar players. Both influenced by other kinds of music.
Musical personalities? They could hardly be more different.
Buddy Guy, “Let Me Love You Baby,” live
*****
Fenton Robinson, “Somebody Loan Me A Dime,” live, 1977
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Back in the 1970s, when I was at Alligator Records, I had the pleasure of working with Fenton, co-producing his album I Hear Some Blues Downstairs (a Grammy nominee). He didn’t fit the stereotype of a bluesman. Gentle, soft-spoken, serious, introspective: he was all these things. He died in 1997.
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3/3/10
What other pop star has made such stunning contributions as a guest artist?
Sinead O’Connor
With Willie Nelson, “Don’t Give Up”
*****
With the Chieftains, “The Foggy Dew”
*****
With Shane MacGowan, “Haunted”
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5/28/2010
two takes
“La-La Means I Love You”
The Delfonics, live, 2008 (originally recorded 1968)
*****
Bill Frisell, live, New York (Rochester), 2007
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lagniappe
musical thoughts
Music . . . carr[ies] us smoothly across the tumult of experience, like water over rocks.
The other day, as I waited for a train at an underground station in downtown Chicago, an older black guy started singing this song, accompanying himself on acoustic guitar, and at that moment everything—this song, this singer, this place—seemed all of a piece and I was no longer waiting.
Curtis Mayfield (with David Sanborn, alto saxophone; Hiram Bullock, guitar; David Lindley, steel guitar; George Duke, piano; Phillipe Saisse, keyboard; Tom Barney, bass; Omar Hakim, drums), “It’s All Right,” live (TV broadcast [Sunday Night]), 1989