Few movies have ever bugged me as much as Dances With Wolves. I actually took the plunge and spent what felt like 6 hours in a movie theater watching that thing when it came out. I was never a Kevin Costner “hater.” I was never his biggest fan either, but I gave the man his due for No Way Out and Bull Durham. Beside miserably squirming through most of Field of Dreams, I had no ax to grind with the guy at that time in his career. For whatever reservations (no pun intended) I might have had, the story seemed like it might appeal to the broad side of me that loves Little Big Man. My wife and I decided to give it a shot on the big screen.
Man, did that movie blow! And its universal acclaim over the coming months with critics and Motion Picture Academy voters really drove us nuts. It was hard to ever like Costner again, and I disliked that movie so much that it helped me feel the pain “people of color” in America and probably worldwide have felt as Hollywood movie after Hollywood movie presents the plight of their people through the eyes of a Saintly, Heroic White Person. (And what was with Mary McDonnell doing in that movie with workout tape–era Jane Fonda‘s hairdo?)
Most recently The Blind Side was the Hollywood film to bolster this notion. Note, in the linked review, that despite the fact that the story contained probably a good deal of truth that most likely Costner’s crime again me and Native Americans has sensitized critics to new levels. You say you didn’t see The Blind Side or Dangerous Minds or Freedom Writers? I didn’t either, but although I liked Mississippi Burning, I felt a little uncomfortable by the strong presence of Saintly, Heroic White People. There are a lot of other movies that play out this way, and despite the fact that I like my share of them, I am always a little embarrassed for what I imagine moviegoesrs of minority groups may be feeling. I console myself with the fact that I’m a big fan of Ice Cube‘s Barbershop movies and that amazing, little indie movie made by and about a group of Native American friends in contemporary society, Smoke Signals.
Unlike the Hollywood movie industry, however, African Americans have played a strong leading role in music since nearly the beginning of the recording age. Any American of any race born in the 19th century forward has little excuse not to know and love at least some music by African American artists. So why have I come across so many intelligent, educated, music-loving white people who rave about Dusty Springfield‘s 1969 album, Dusty in Memphis, as if it’s a watermark in soul music?
Check out this typical rock press take on the album. Despite the fact that the writer makes it clear that Dusty wasn’t all that happy with the record or being in Memphis, singing in the same vocal booth in which true Memphis greats sweat and slobbered and playing with arguably one of the music industry’s greatest backing bands, he and a legion of modern-day fans of the album clutch onto the myth.
Far from rescuing Springfield’s career, Dusty in Memphis froze it in time, and she would not have another Top 40 hit for more than two decades. But for this album’s army of fans, who’ve picked it up in second-hand stores or in a variety of re-released formats, Dusty in Memphis is not only a popcultural milestone but a timeless emotional reference point.
I have no desire to argue the merits of the album itself. I think it’s merely OK. If I’d bought it in a used bin for 50 cents when I was an idealistic kid I would have held onto it and gotten some mild enjoyment out of it, but beside “Son of a Preacher Man,” which for my money is on par with a similar, fun, semi-corny country-soul tale like Bobbi Gentry‘s “Ode to Billie Joe” or R.B. Greaves‘ “Take a Letter Maria,” I guess I lack the pop sensibility and emotional capacity to identify either the milestone or the reference point this writer notes.
The album’s OK. Dusty Springfield was OK. Her first hit, “I Only Want to Be With You,” is outstanding! Sadly, as I learned as a completely misguided, horny teenage boy, the assumed “super-cute” musical equivalent of a young Julie Christie behind “I Only Want to Be With You,” as I bet many American boys and young men wished all cute-sounding Daughters of the British Invasion would look at that time, was nothing special. She was not even as mildly cute Petula Clark, for instance. Nice bouffant, I guess, but that’s not what I was hoping to find. Bummer. Oh, if only the English had done like the French and matched their Swingin’ Sixties cutiepies up in a recording studio with dirty, old pervs. I’d buy some half-assed Julie Christie single. But that was and is neither here nor there.
Nor, really, here nor there when we’re speaking of popcultural milestones and emotional reference points is the backstory of her personal struggles. I can see how that and her camp appeal fit into her legacy as an icon across a few hip social groups. Considering it’s all a matter of personal taste, I’ll even applaud Elton John for declaring in his speech for her induction to the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame, “I think she is the greatest white singer that there ever has been.” But if I want to hear soul music, I’ll start with Aretha Franklin. If I want to hear someone sing Bacharach/David hits, I’ll start with Dionne Warwick. (I will, however, listen to Springfield’s version of “The Look of Love.”) I wish I’d bought that 50-cent used copy of Dusty in Memphis before a bunch of hipsters who grew up with no actual Stax or Motown records in their collection, perhaps save a Rare Earth album, drove the price of used copies beyond my ability to get over Costner’s Injustice. Even if I’d owned Dusty in Memphis by now, there would be a lot of soul albums, even “blue-eyed soul” albums that I’d play before it.
It pained me to realize that Cat Power, an artist I despised when I first heard her “version” of “‘Satisfaction’,” if you want to call it that, and tales of her miserable track record of abuse and irresponsibility, wasn’t so bad after all once she went to Memphis. But I don’t feel that Memphis did anything special for Dusty. I play the one Cat Power album I own, Jukebox, more than I’d ever play Dusty in Memphis. But again, this isn’t really directed at Dusty or her music. It’s directed at the Cool Patrol, the same assholes in record stores who used to sneer at me in record stores for buying Dionne Warwick and Smokey Robinson & The Miracles albums who, 8 years later at some hipster party would corner me and lecture me on the brilliance of Dusty in Memphis and anything involving The Meters. I saw these types as the other side of the coin of the White Folks in backyards across suburban America who blast their repurchased CD copy of Bob Marley‘s Legend that special summer night when they get together with old college friends, fire up the grill, crack open some cold ones, and make thinly veiled race-based criticisms of the shortcomings of their sports teams’ African American stars.
“Hey, Record Store Hipster, circa 1990: How many actual soul albums did you own prior to picking up Dusty in Memphis and something featuring The Meters? Jimi Hendrix and your recently purchased used copy of Robert Palmer‘s Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley don’t count.”
“Since buying Dusty in Memphis,” I would ask this same hipster, “how many albums have you bought by African American artists that were not done either for cartoonish shock value (eg, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Funkadelic) or to show you know more than all the people who’d been buying soul records for years (eg, Andre Williams)?”
Hey, I know what I’m saying here is horrible, and I wish I could blame it all on Costner, but I won’t. Part of the territory the comes with being a rock nerd is the drive to actually be cool in some way. I stay off the turf of those of you who took the brunt of earning your Cool Points for being ahead of the curve on Krautrock. I give full credit to all those cooler guys who turned me onto Art Rock. I’d appreciate it if you stay off my turf and the turf of others who’ve been happily digging soul music since childhood. I’ve got no beef with a credible soul music afficianado like BigSteve or al digging their copies of Dusty in Memphis because they’ve got perspective. They certainly rocked in their childhood beds or parents’ cars to Everyday Soul Music the way so many of us did. It’s not like they woke up one day, threw on a newly acquired copy of Dusty in Memphis from among a stack of Saccharine Trust albums, and saw the light.
To be fair, more power to even the most-unexpected Dusty converts! It’s beautiful if her music now lifts their souls. It will be a bonus if they get by the hectoring of some fucking fart like myself, who’s spent way more time than anyone should ever spend trying to carve out this piece of turf, and digging deeper into, honestly, more obvious soul greats. Consider my plight, if you will; consider the value of working so hard to “own” a plot of land at the corner of Stax and Motown in 2011. It’s like fighting over the right to buy St. James Place in Monopoly.
What I’m really trying to get at, Dusty in Memphis–Loving Hipster With Huge Holes in Your Soul Collection is this: Don’t be content to let that one album and your Meters collection do the work for you. Don’t feel self-satisfied and relieved of guilt, like all those people who voted for Dances With Wolves. Just as you would justifiably look down your nose at me if you learned I only own one actual hardcore record, Black Flag‘s “Six-Pack” EP and have the nerve to feel proud of myself for doing so (and that’s the case, so go ahead and look down your nose at me!), I look down my nose at you. Do we have a better understanding now? Can we move forward and grow from this? I hope so.
Mod, just to give you the heads-up, I’ll be submitting my soul credentials later so you can let me know if I’m cool enough to like Dusty in Memphis without offending your Sensibilities. Heh heh. Just kidding. Actually, I don’t own Dusty in Memphis. I’m happy to hear Son of a Preacher Man once in a while. But more Dusty soul I am not sure I need.
By the way, the flip side of the white folks solving the problems of colored folks movies are the white folks getting in touch with their true feelings by getting to know colored folks movies. (Grand Canyon, for instance.) Of course, these are often the same movies. Everyone wins! Colored folks get their complex problems solved by the white man (or woman) and the white man (or woman) learns about “real life” from the colored folks. It’s a great world!
I can solve your problem right now: Dusty in Memphis is a pop record, not a soul record. Next!
Mr. Mod, you’re a good guy but you think too much. Dusty in Memphis is a good record whether the singer is white, black, yellow, brown, purple, orange, or green.
Oh, and R.B. Greaves’ “Take a Letter Maria” is corn, but it’s great corn.
Agreed!
I’m down with this comment. Son of a Preacher Man is really a great record, just like Ode to Billie Joe. Soul? Barely. And it’s probably the closest thing to soul on the album. I think you’re setting up straw men again.
this is my favorite Dusty tune.
it is from The Stuntman soundtrack.
Music by the guy who scored The Outer Limits.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zX5k0D57Dkw&feature=related
I don’t think I own this album, and if I do, nothing on it made much of an impression, other than “SOAPM”. She never meant that much to me (a few good pop hits, but that’s about it for me), and I even remember when I was compiling VHS tapes of the “Ready, Steady, GO!” series (from the store I worked at for a time in the 80s), I cut Dusty (who co-hosted quite a number of times) completely out of my versions. I remember thinking at the time that whenever she showed up on screen, it felt like someone’s mom had just crashed the party. I felt less harsh torward her a bit later, but she was never compelling enough to make me want to investigate in any depth, and certainly not as a soul artist. It’s an okay album….I guess. She’s no Sugar Pie DeSanto, that’s for sure…
I think we all do this to some extent, but blaming artists for their fans just takes us farther away from the music. All those people who own Legend can never change the fact that Bob Marley was one of the great artists of the 60s/70s.
If we’re not going to talk about Dusty’s music, I don’t see the point of talking about who bought In Memphis and why. Are we going to excoriate the Stones for playing blues-based music because their fans’ record collections aren’t full of Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf albums. Is it shameful to like the Beatles if you don’t own the original versions of Chains and Boys?
Sorry.
Love that record. So groovy, so subtle, so fantastically perverse–there’s not another record like it. The Mod’s soul comparison seems totally overstated–pretty much exactly like a few people I know who hate the Stones because it’s not “real blues.”
Yep.
I’ve heard that same complaint by some. I (like many) got into all that stuff THROUGH the Stones, which I believe was part of their original mission. People who bring up that criticism don’t seem to realize that most white people (including the Stones’ critics themselves) wouldn’t have been exposed to the blues if it hadn’t been for, primarily, English white boys who loved and championed it. Unfair, but that’s life. Muddy and Wolf, among others, recognized that and expressed appreciation (at least publicly) for the boost it gave their careers, so it never mattered to me what some hipster telling me the Stones sucked because they weren’t as “real” as Stink Finger Willie and His Two-Stringed Guitar thought – They refused to do SHINDIG unless Howlin’ Wolf was put on the show. I doubt he would have ended up there without them. What they, and others like them, did meant a hell of a lot more to the widening of an audience for the blues as a genre than some Johnny come lately snob who’s hip to the Fat Possum label.
The Dusty thing struck me as a one-off. To be honest, I can’t be too dismissive of it as ANY kind of album, because I never really got to know it. Could be better than I remember, I’ll have to look it up again. Sorry if I was being too flippant in my first comment, but I’m sooooo hot & sticky, I can’t think straight.
How many times do you read the word “soul” as a descriptor in the following reviews and how many times do you read “pop?” This is not about Dusty and the album, per se, but the people who’ve built it up into something it’s not – and the people who’ve swallowed that nonsense and walked around like they’re soul music experts.
AllMusic:
http://www.allmusic.com/album/r49970
“The idea of taking England’s reigning female soul queen to the home of the music she had mastered was an inspired one.”
Rolling Stone’s 500 greatest albums:
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/lists/500-greatest-albums-of-all-time-19691231/dusty-in-memphis-dusty-springfield-19691231
“She was so intimidated by the idea of recording with session guys from her favorite Aretha Franklin and Otis Redding hits that she never sang a note there. Her vocals were overdubbed in New York. But the result was blazing soul and sexual honesty (“Breakfast in Bed,” “Son of a Preacher Man”) that transcended both race and geography.”
Pitchfork:
http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/9696-complete-a-and-b-sides-1963-1970/
“In the decade that followed she established herself as one of Britain’s best female singers, and possibly its best soul singer.”
This Pitchfork quote, by the way, is a double-whammy: she’s not only a great “white” soul singer (-1); she’s possibly the best BRITISH soul singer, among “females,” that is! (-3) Who is her competition, Annie Lennox? I’m about as much a fan as English rock ‘n roll as anyone here, but England, remember, is a country that considers that Simply Red guy, Mick Huxtable or whatever his name is, among its finest soul singers.
Mojo (providing an reasonable summary):
http://www.mojo4music.com/blog/2009/07/dusty_springfield.html
“crisply blending soul and sophisticated pop”
BBC:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/8vzf
“Likewise Mardin’s sensitive blend of Bacharach poise and Memphis funk provides the perfect frame for Dusty’s blue eyed soul.”
To Rhino’s credit, they promote their deluxe 25-track edition as a “pop” album:
http://www.rhino.com/shop/product/dusty-springfield-dusty-in-memphis-deluxe-edition
At the risk of stooping to me quoting dictionary definitions, please try to see the fuller picture I’m painting.
That’s Steve Railsback, of Helter Skelter fame, right? Brilliant! I haven’t seen that movie in years.
Would you go as far as to defend “The Windmills of My Mind,” mwall? Is that, too, “so subtle, so fantastically perverse?” Can I interest you in some Richard Harris albums next?
I have a recording of Costello singing that number.
Dusty sang soul from her earliest albums on. Here’s a partial list based on a quick look through my Itunes:
Can I Get a Witness
All Cried Out
Do Re Mi (Lee Dorsey)
Don’t You Know (Ray Charles)
Piece of My Heart
Crumbs Off the Table
Take Me For a Little While
When the Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes
Don’t Let Me Lose This Dream (Aretha)
Mama Said
Every Day I Have to Cry
Won’t Be Long
It Was Easier to Hurt Him
She cut more soul music before Dusty in Memphis than on that album, so it was hardly a one-off.
Looking at the credits on that album I see most of the material came from such noted black songwriters as Randy Newman, Carole King/Gerry Goffin, Barry Mann/Cynthia Weil, and Burt Bacharach. Even the more conventional soul material came from white songwriters (Tony Joe White, Donnie Fritts/Eddie Hinton, and I think the writers of Son of a Preacher Man — John Hurley & Ronnie Wilkins — were white too). The producers — Jerry Wexler, Arif Mardin, and Tom Dowd — were also white.
The soul music studios in Memphis and Muscle Shoals were always mixed black and white. And British acts in the 60s all sang R&B and soul. Critics may have gotten all of this wrong, but I guess my reaction is, so what?
Bobby, it’s a really fine record. And of course there’s a lot of history of British white women singing British versions of American soul songs, and Dusty’s just one part of it. Of course, no one on Rock Town knows anything about that history, because they don’t want to.
Wow, Mod. You’ve found a deep track that may be just okay. Let’s chuck the album in the trash, absolutely.
Right, Steve.
Who are you gonna believe? Me, or your lying ears? It’s a fantastic record. But it’s a pop record, not a soul record, despite the best efforts of her label to sell it as soul. They didn’t call it “Dusty in Two Different Studios, One of Which Was in New York City and She Really Recorded Her Vocals In Manhattan.” Because of the involvement of musicians associated with Atlantic’s soul acts, Jerry Wexler, and Dusty’s physical presence in Memphis for a little while, that all adds up to a soul record from a marketing perspective. So yeah, people are going to refer to it as a “soul record” because a lot of people fall for the marketing bullshit. But remember, we have the benefit of knowing the actual story of the recording. People at the time didn’t.
I’d also add that this is, in fact, an album, not a collection of singles filled out with crap. How many pre-1969 soul albums can you name? I have Otis Redding and Carla Thomas’s “King and Queen”, and after that, I draw a blank. Which soul *albums* from that time period should hipsters be buying to fill the holes in their record collections? Motown greatest hits compilations don’t count….
I’ll add that “Windmills of My Mind” won an Oscar for Best Song in 1968, so you can imagine how one might want to record it and put it on one’s album. It’s worth noting that it charted higher on the adult contemporary chart than on the Billboard Hot 100. Why? Because the buying public knew it wasn’t a soul record. It’s cocktail party music, not dance your ass off music.
Well played, but part of what I’m getting at is that THEY DO! The white man has imposed ridiculous expectations on soul music, expecting albums when most of these artists and the genre was best suited to singles. The hipster in my crosshairs should go out and buy Motown Anthology albums, Stax artist Best of albums, and 45s, not just clutch onto the 3 soul albums that preceded What’s Going On.
Seriously, your level of maturity on this issue is admirable. I’m in more of agreement with you on what you’re saying about the music than you may think, but I’m not mature enough to say “so what?” and leave it at that. There’s an itch; I’m scratching it.
You’re both full of shit on this one — that’s pure gergleyite nonsense. From Stax alone, I could name a dozen albums that are totally worth owning. William Bell had a couple, Eddie Floyd had at least one, all the Sam & Dave albums are good to great, ditto Otis, and — don’t get me started on the Booker T catalog. Saying that soul artists were somehow “meant” to never record albums is a whole ‘nother White Man Problem.
Which is why you always hear of “Berry Gordy’s Super Duper Cash-Out Compilation of Motown Volume 3” being named to the list of best albums of all time. Motown and Stax get sliced and diced over and over by their respective companies, so that the concept of a 1960s Motown album is meaningless. No, Motown and Stax are singles labels. Dusty releases an *album* so yeah, it’s going to be referred to as a great album. What’s the competition in that space? And they should be buying 45s? Really? I will fully admit that I think everyone who listens to music should own the first Stax singles box set, but you’re asking a lot of people, especially when Motown is so ubiquitous.
People who talk about Dusty in Memphis as markedly different from her previous efforts because she recorded it in Memphis, and then go on to link her post-Dusty in Memphis career trajectory to those differences aren’t really listening to the music.
They’re giving too much weight to context.
As BigSteve suggests, she always had a penchant for soul stylings pre-Memphis. And as Bostonhistorian points out (repeatedly), DiM isn’t really a soul album.
I’m not sure what the “this” is in BigSteve’s “critics may have gotten this wrong…” sentence, but I guess I don’t really need it explained.
I like Dusty in Memphis just fine. It’s certainly not I don’t really care about the distorted, agenda based opinions of hipster music snobs or their haters. It would be a shame to use an album as fine as this as fodder for such agendas.
I get your point, but you make it in blatant cart-before-the-horse-ish fashion.
The album’s status as a soul record (or some other kind of record) would not have stopped (or encouraged) “contemporary adults” from buying (or eschewing) the record.
I didn’t say there weren’t Stax albums worth owning. I said that most people don’t think of 60s soul in terms of albums. And, let’s face it, Stax’s business model was a steady stream of 45 rpm releases which, if successful, got compiled onto albums with other songs added. I’m not saying Stax artists weren’t mean to record albums, just that most people can’t actually name the albums produced by Stax artists.
I didn’t mean to come off like Al Campanis here. What I meant to say was that, retroactively, we (yes, I’m including myself among those despicable white folks) have imposed our AOR sensibilities on ’60s soul AND pop, sometimes to the detriment of the artists who cranked out a run of excellent singles. This ties back to what we were talking about earlier in the week regarding the likes of The Grassroots, Tommy James and the Shondells, etc. The Jefferson Airplane are held up as exemplars of rock ‘n roll because they made albums, man, while plenty of artists from the same time are dismissed as “merely singles artists.” I think this affects a lot of great soul artists from that era. I think this need for us to clutch onto an AOR, concept-album, backstory-laden notion of Great Rock Art sometimes leads us down a rabbit hole. That’s part of what I’m trying to get at here, and I hope you understand that I’m also poking fun at my own sense of entitlement over my “turf” on this issue.
The RTH Philly Mafia might also recognize this song as the theme to the WPVI (Channel 6) Million Dollar Movie.
I’d never heard the full song, with lyrics, until now. I like it! It has kind of a Bond theme thing going on.
Still at it? I’ve been out of touch, but not much has changed, has it? Mod Max makes some good, if unnecessary, points. What else is new? Sure, hipster assholes are annoying.
Competition for female British soul singers = Amy Winehouse and Adele. I’m not promoting them but I think they rock the song better than Dusty.
This post could not have come at a better time. Last night, Mr. Royale picked up our aged bones and took ourselves into SF to see a few bands. We left early. Why? Because of the Style Over Substance problem that seems to be particularly prominent with hipsters redoing older soul music. The night started with some guy (not wearing a fedora) playing a bunch of old soul b sides and 2-hit wonders. They were fun to dance to and were the Original Artists. Then we had the Allah-lahs: sort of Seeds/early Stones-era sounds. The boys were hairy, sweaty, good musicians and seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. It was a fun time. But then we got to the headliners: Nick Waterhouse and the Tarots. I should have known when I saw, pre-show, him and the 60’s-suited drummer hugging everyone in sight. I should have known when he took off his Buddy Holly glasses when he started singing. But as he kept flashing his pepsodent smile at the young, bouncing crowd, I realized that this was pure plastic. Were he and the band good musicians? Yes. Were they enjoyable to watch? Sure. But they seemed to be selling a brand of soul that was so inauthentic that it was expecting product placement (rather than the standard: “I’m selling my 45’s over here.”) Mr. Royale and I left early and wished we’d had a song list from the first dj.
I ask the Hall, why is this problem apparently increasing right now? Why is Soul particularly susceptible to this Style Over Substance problem? Like what many are saying about Dusty, Nick Waterhouse was enjoyable but not soul.
Honestly, I should have stayed home and re-watched “The Commitments.”
I think the operative word in your comment is “inauthentic”? What is authentic soul? Berry Gordy and his Motown machine got criticism in their day because they were toning down R&B in order to target white audiences for mass commercial success. They succeeded admirably but some grumbled that the Motown sound was too polished and clean – it wasn’t hot’n’greasy soul like the real thing. Not only that, Gordy ran a finishing school of sorts to make his black artists as nice, presentable, and non-threatening as possible to white audiences and TV viewers. Bot who on RTH is going to say that Smokey Robinson, Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, or Stevie Wonder aren’t authentic? Not me.
Oh geez, my timing was really bad:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2018020/Amy-Winehouse-dead–Found-dead-London-flat.html?ito=feeds-newsxml
Alison Moyet.
I thought of that after I wrote it. Mr. Royale and I were trying to pinpoint what was so bad about the show. Inauthentic is not the accurate word. The show lacked depth. Heart, as Mod would say. It was it didn’t feel “real,” what ever that means. Slick works for some bands, but I guess I’m saying that when I see a live band, esp. a “soul” band, slick is not what I’m looking for.
That’s very sad, but frankly not surprising.
Yeah, this thread has sure just taken a macabre turn.
Good call.
I just heard that too. That is sad. What’s more sad is how many years she was obviously in serious trouble and thumbing her nose at it while being hounded by the media in anticipation of just this day.
Thank you for acknowledging that I have heart, or at least am capable of spotting it 🙂 Take note, Townspeople!
It’s hard to do an established, older form of music and not fall prey to its conventions. I think some younger bands don’t make the slightest effort to break from the conventions and let their own souls come through. Maybe that’s what you guys were feeling.
Has she done anything the last 30 years? Yaz was pretty good (for that kind of music). Did she continue to have a career in England? How does she pay her bills?
This Dusty post gets more appropriate (albeit in weird and tragic ways) by the minute: white girl soulster Amy Winehouse, undoubtedly a descendent of Dusty, now dead.
Speaking of white soul singers, Amy Winehouse died today at 27
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/amy-winehouse-found-dead-in-london-20110723
gee…thanks for the insightful, and absolutely “necessary” contribution.
we’re in awe.
If only she’d made it to Memphis, or Manhatten.
True dat! Come on, meanstom, don’t tell me you’re one of those guys with Dusty in Memphis sandwiched between Saccharine Trust lps?
spend more time on spelling and less time crafting posts designed to remind us of just how far above the RTH fray you are.
Point taken. Now son, do you need help finding the caps key?
Jeez, I apologize for re-entering RTH in such a pissy mood, OK?
Weird that this post is up the weekend of Winehouse’s death. I thought “Rehab” was a hoot prior to the well-documented drug and alcohol problems and YouTube videos of her out-of-it performances. For awhile, HDNet or Palladium had an hour long concert that she did in 2007 or 2008 and she was teetering on the edge of putting on an acceptable show then. I liked her album — what a waste — it pisses me off.
Hard to call “Rehab” inauthentic.
Both Sides Now Publications is a valuable resource for looking up albums and track listings:
The Stax LP discography:
http://www.bsnpubs.com/stax/staxa.html
http://www.bsnpubs.com/stax/staxb.html
The Volt LP discography:
http://www.bsnpubs.com/stax/volt.html
Hey, Mod. Couldn’t you level the same set of charges against Gram Parsons?
What, did he suddenly pull Dusty in Memphis from a stack of Saccharine Trust albums too?
Some previous RTH threads surrounding Amy Winehouse, for anyone interested:
https://www.rocktownhall.com/blogs/index.php/amy-winehouse-blackcredibility/
https://www.rocktownhall.com/blogs/index.php/amy-winehouse-to-poised-to-fall-flat-on/
https://www.rocktownhall.com/blogs/index.php/horror-amy-winehouse-stones/
https://www.rocktownhall.com/blogs/index.php/once-in-love-with-amy/
Nice — a good read because these were all before I stumbled into the Hall. She was a talent worthy of debate.
Mod, I want to apologize. I didn’t have the bandwidth to actually *read* your fine post before I responded with my one-dimensional riposte re: soul albums. Now that I *have* read it, I’d just like to say: “…and I thought *I* had issues with idiot rock critics!”
Really, I don’t think I’m projecting — that’s your issue with this record, too. I don’t think you care about the “asshole/ignorant fan factor” as much as you claim you do. Rather, I think what’s bugged you about this album over the years is much the same as what’s bugged me about it, namely:
1.) It’s not very interesting or important.
2.) I’ve been told for years it’s *extremely* interesting and *vitally* important.
3.) The people who tell me I’m supposed to be bowled over by the album’s importance say it’s important as a Great White Soul Achievement.
Furthermore…
Waitaminnit — can we stop right there? THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS WHITE SOUL MUSIC. Just like there is no such thing as a Great White Heavyweight Boxer or a Great White Hip Hop Artist. I do not mean that no white people are capable of being top-notch boxers, rappers or step dancers or whatever. But the notion that I’m supposed to take an extra interest in the achievements of an artist because they are a peculiar color makes the mediocrity of most of their white achievements even more irritating. I suspect that also has something to do with the whole Dusty In Memphis issue.
Ultimately, the group of people most responsible for making me live in a world where I have to write paragraphs like these are LAZY-ASS ROCK CRITICS. And they bug the shit out of me. Like they do you.
I got more, but I just woke up from a nap, and I’m a bit groggy. I hope this made sense.
In most cases, such a display of understanding (and agreement with me) would earn a Townsperson a virtual High Five! You, however, are such a classy guy, adding a luster I couldn’t have expected to my thoughts, that I extend a digital Handshake With Accompanying Forearm Grasp.
All of this on Dusty in Memphis, an album I’ve never heard but that has a acquired one of those rock snob weapon reputations. I’m almost always disappointed once I hear these things. The discussion would maybe better focused on Marley’s Legend, which way too many closed-in, narrowly defined music folks toss around like their one black “friend” (who probably doesn’t exist). I’ve been digging into some Stax soul and Philly soul lately but I have no claim to it outside of loving this new vein of material that existed parallel to the white r-n-r I grew up on.
Damn foreseeable end for Amy Winehouse. Back to Black really grew on me and I’ll be very interested to hear what she had in the can when she died. I heard she recorded a lot of sessions in the Caribbean. I will, however, feel a bit ghoulish about my interest in it.
I always thought white soul music was called “Country”.
Forget Dusty and forget Marley – why is no one taking issue with this blatant back-handed slap at Saccharine Trust?!?!
But seriously folks, I see exactly where Mr. Mod is coming from. I happen to think that DiM is a great album (as is Dusty generally) but I’ve never once thought of it as a soul album nor her as a soul singer. She can be quite soulful but that’s not necessarily the same thing.
Anyone familiar with Shelby Lynne’s tribute to Dusty album of a few years ago? It’s really great. I thought it a pointless exercise before I heard it but I was blown away by it. It strips many of the songs of the Bacharach touches and leaves behind a very soulful, sexy core.