A sonic exploration and tonal analysis of contemporary creative music in a myriad of improvisational/composed settings, textures, and expressions.
Welcome to Sound Projections
I'm your host Kofi Natambu. This online magazine features the very best in contemporary creative music in this creative timezone NOW (the one we're living in) as well as that of the historical past. The purpose is to openly explore, examine, investigate, reflect on, studiously critique, and take opulent pleasure in the sonic and aural dimensions of human experience known and identified to us as MUSIC. I'm also interested in critically examining the wide range of ideas and opinions that govern our commodified notions of the production, consumption, marketing, and commercial exchange of organized sound(s) which largely define and thereby (over)determine our present relationships to music in the general political economy and culture.
Thus this magazine will strive to critically question and go beyond the conventional imposed notions
and categories of what constitutes the generic and stylistic definitions of ‘Jazz’, ‘classical music’, ‘Blues.’
'Rhythm and Blues’, ‘Rock and Roll’, ‘Pop’, ‘Funk’, ‘Hip Hop’, etc. in order to search for what individual
artists and ensembles do cretively to challenge and transform our ingrained ideas and attitudes of what
music is and could be.
So please join me in this ongoing visceral, investigative, and cerebral quest to explore, enjoy, and pay
homage to the endlessly creative and uniquely magisterial dimensions of MUSIC in all of its guises and expressive identities.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Al Green (b. April 13, 1946): Legendary singer, songwriter, musician, ensemble leader, arranger, and minister
Music Al Green, the soul legend and Kennedy Center honoree, is still tired of being alone
By Chris Richards December 5, 2014 The Washington Post
MEMPHIS
The moms are digging in their purses for marshmallows.
Because
the kids are getting restless. Because they’ve been stuck in the pews
for nearly three hours. Because the adults don’t want to go home.
Because the man at the pulpit is singing in a celestial falsetto that
seems to know the contours of heaven. Because he’s Al Green.
Toward the back of the church: tourists from France, Brazil, Israel, Denmark, South Africa. They’ve come to hear the man sing.
Toward
the front: ladies in fabulous hats, men in boxy suits, marshmallow moms
and their antsy children. They’ve come to hear the Reverend preach.
If
the story of American R&B unfolds in the tension between Saturday
night and Sunday morning, Green may be its truest protagonist. In the
early ’70s, he sang about devotion and desire with a gospel-grade
elegance that made him a star, a sage and a sex symbol. And then, at the
height of his fame, he started answering to a voice more sublime than
his own.
Green says that God first steered his car to
this church back in 1976. To get there today, head south toward the
outskirts of Memphis, down Elvis Presley Boulevard, past Graceland, past
the fast food, past the nail salons, hang a right on the road with the
November foliage worthy of a jigsaw puzzle, and look for the small white
church with the big white Mercedes-Benz parked outside.
Inside
the Full Gospel Tabernacle, the paint is chipping and the pews are
creaky. But the music is glorious. Ordained as a Baptist minister, Green
has been leading this modestly sized, nondenominational church for
nearly 40 years, and this Sunday’s service is a free-form mix of
Scripture, sermon and song, with Green’s voice soaring high above his
choir’s.
He smiles — happy to be surrounded by the sound, surrounded by the Spirit and, perhaps most important, surrounded by the people.
Because
even though Green’s greatest hits exalt the bliss of human communion,
he lives alone in rural seclusion. That bliss has slipped in and out of
his hands since childhood. More than four decades after writing “Tired of Being Alone,” Al Green is still very much exactly that.
Al Green performs at Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve in 1972. (Fred
A. Sabine/Fred A. Sabine/NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images)
Al Green performs at the Essence Music Festival in 2002. (Douglas Mason/AP)
‘Yeee-haw!”
This is what he howls when he’s excited, and on Monday morning the office behind his church is filled with yeee-haws.
It’s also filled with media folk who have traveled to Memphis to ask
the 68-year-old how he feels about receiving one of this year’s Kennedy
Center Honors.
During our 45-minute window, Green is
energetic, quick to laugh, even quicker to break into song. But his left
foot won’t stop tapping anxious 16th notes into the carpet.
One-on-one
conversation seems difficult for him. He answers most questions with
forthright brevity, then darts off on scattered digressions.
Ask
about his relationship with his church, he laments the rise of the drug
trade in Memphis. Ask whether stardom made him a better preacher, he
volunteers the fact that his first love was a prostitute who introduced
him to a dangerous social circle. Ask about his mentor, producer Willie
Mitchell, Green reminisces about an unrelated bar fight that required
him to neutralize an opponent carrying a switchblade. “Always hold the
hand with the knife!” he shouts, offering hard-knock-life tips with a
belly laugh.
Perhaps these broken strands of
communication are Green’s way of explaining that he has seen life on the
other side and that instead of examining his current struggles, he’d
rather purge up memories of traumas conquered long ago.
He
certainly had plenty to overcome. Albert Greene was born in Forrest
City, Ark., in 1946 to a religiously devout sharecropper who dreamed
that his sons — the Greene Brothers — would find success on the
gospel-music circuit. (As an adult, Greene would drop the “e” from his
name.)
As a child, he was an
outcast, prone to isolation. As a teenager, he was trouble, prone to
using his fists. He also had insatiable ears, and he fell hard for the
angelic voice of Sam Cooke at a tender age. But “the devil’s music”
wasn’t allowed beneath his father’s roof, and as a teenager, Green was
banished from the house for secretly listening to a Jackie Wilson
record.
It didn’t stop him from wanting to sing in the
skyscraping falsetto of his idols, and in 1968, the success of his first
single, “Back Up Train,” helped Al Greene and the Soul Mates get all
the way to Harlem’s Apollo Theater — but not much further.
Aimlessly
touring the country as a solo act in 1969, Green shared a bill with
Mitchell at a Texas nightclub and eventually followed the bandleader and
producer back to Memphis. That’s when everyone’s luck changed.
Together,
the two began crafting some of the most exquisite songs to ever grace
the American consciousness — “Tired of Being Alone,” “Let’s Stay
Together,” “I’m Still in Love With You” — a series of hits recorded for
what Green once described as one long, never-ending album, blurred by
the time-smearing effects of instant fame.
But
stardom did nothing to soothe Green’s crippling loneliness or tame the
chaos he perpetually seemed to attract. He made strange headlines in
1974 when his girlfriend, Mary Woodson White, assaulted him with a pot
of boiling grits and then committed suicide in his home. Two decades
later, Green was back in the news, facing allegations of domestic abuse
from his ex-wife, Shirley Green. (He says their relationship today is no
longer “distant and hateful.” In fact, she was visiting Memphis the day
prior, attended Green’s church and even came to the front at one point
to lead the congregation in song.)
But the defining
pivot of Al Green’s life took place before all that, in 1973, in a hotel
room in Anaheim, Calif., after he’d performed a late-night concert at
Disneyland. Green went to sleep exhausted. When he woke up, he was born
again.
Describing today that moment when he first heard the voice of God, he goes calm and quiet.
“He
said, ‘Come, come, come to me,’ ” Green says, softly fluttering his
fingers. “And when I got in those arms, I could just let my whole spirit
down. I could relax. I felt so much better. . . . I surrendered. And you have to surrender. Then you get to build up again.”
In voice and in spirit, Al Green has spent his career reaching higher
The soul music icon sang some of the most sublime hits of all time.
Before Al Green found God, Willie Mitchell found Al Green.
It
was Mitchell, a Mississippi-born musician fluent in jazz, rock and
soul, who nurtured Green’s sound, finessing it into something delicate
and indelible. Mitchell believed that a song’s momentum should always
push upward, ascending like the slope of a mountain into the unknown. To
get there, he needed Green to scrub the growl out of his voice and stop
imitating the guys who were recording for Stax Records, just a few
blocks away.
In his autobiography, Green remembers Mitchell coaching him: “Let them be gritty. You be smooth. Remember, Al. It’s silky on the top. Rough on the bottom.”
If
ascension and tenderness were two of the secret ingredients floating
around Mitchell’s Royal Recording Studio, the third was intimacy.
Charles
Hodges — the keyboardist who performed on much of Green’s early work
alongside his brothers, bassist Leroy Hodges and guitarist Mabon
“Teenie” Hodges, and drummers Howard Grimes and Al Jackson Jr. — says
the “spiritual chemistry” that filled the air at Royal in the early ’70s
was one of a kind.
“We
all became so close that we could just feel each other’s heartbeat,”
Hodges says today. “Everything we touched turned to gold.”
The
effortless feel of their most golden music had everything to do with
efficiency. The vocals to “Let’s Stay Together” — that ecstatic pledge
of commitment that would define Green’s career — were written 15 minutes
after Mitchell presented his pupil with the music. This is Green’s gift
as a songwriter: the ability to go so deep so quickly.
“It’s spontaneous,” Green says of the creative moment.
“You’ve got to let yourself drop so you get to the point where you feel. Then you work to bring it on up, bring it on up, bring it on up. You start with something, and in it builds. It builds. And builds. And builds.”
And
then Green starts singing beautiful curlicues of nonverbal nonsense, as
if what he’s trying to say is beyond words or beyond his patience to
find them.
Green
in his office in Memphis. The legendary singer is a recipient of the
2014 Kennedy Center Honors. (Jesse Dittmar/For The Washington Post)
Green holds the best R&B performance and
best traditional R&B vocal awards at the 51st Annual Grammy Awards
in 2009. (Matt Sayles/ASSOCIATED PRESS)
In the 1984 documentary “Gospel According to Al Green,” filmmaker Robert Mugge asks his subject where he sees his ministry headed in the decades to come.
Green replies with unflinching zest: “I shall be one of the greatest evangelists in the world. In the world! And not only will we fill auditoriums, and coliseums, and stadiums, but we will multiply blessings to people around the world.”
It
hasn’t turned out that way. But Green says he’s at peace with his faith
and his ambition. “I am completely satisfied with what God has done,”
he says. “I’m grateful to be where I am now, in the mind-set I’m in
now.”
He never really stopped recording. In 2003, Green released “I Can’t Stop,”
his first secular album since parting ways with Mitchell to pursue
gospel in the late ’70s. Green says he wanted to reconnect with his old
mentor, who was suffering from the complications of diabetes and
drinking heavily at the time.
“I told him, ‘You’re not going to get better with all this Grey Goose in the back of your car,’ ” Green says. “Willie needed to get better. And he did get better.”
Their rekindled success allowed the duo to record another album — 2005’s “Everything’s OK” — before Mitchell’s death in 2010. Green’s most recent songbook, 2008’s “Lay It Down,”
was co-produced by Questlove of the Roots. It features two duets with
Anthony Hamilton, one of the countless contemporary singers who learned
about empathy and honesty by listening to Green.
“[He
taught me] that whatever it is you’re feeling, it’s okay to be as pure
as you want to be in that moment. You don’t have to apologize for it at
all,” Hamilton says. “And for the fans, for people who are afraid to
express themselves, he allowed people to open up and be in that moment,
too.”
In addition to reviving his
pop career, Green’s return to secular music also refreshed his image as
a conflicted soul man torn between pleasure and piety. It’s a narrative
that Green dismisses outright. “It’s all in your heart,” he says.
“If
you’re not divided in here” — touching his hand to his chest — “you’re
not divided out there. . . . I’m not torn at all. I know what I’m doing. I’ve been at this church for 37 years.”
But Green doesn’t hesitate to say he’s still haunted by his inability to keep people close. “I’m still a loner,” he says.
Which
means visits with family are brief. Visits with friends are rare. When
his housekeeper shows up at his home 25 minutes from downtown Memphis,
Green might quietly sing along to the hum of the vacuum cleaner, the way
the Greene Brothers used to try to harmonize with the purring car tires
on their Sunday road trips. Music is still his companion — and
creatively, loneliness is still his resource.
“You have to have a well to draw from,” Green says slowly, as if running out of words.
Ask him if he’s still lonely today and he can find only two.
Al
Green is known for the hit song "Let's Stay Together," and for leaving
his musical career at its height in the 1970s to become a reverend at
his own church.
Synopsis
Born
on a farm in Dansby, Arkansas on April 13, 1946, Al Green became a
popular soul singer whose hits include 1971's "Let's Stay Together."
While at the top of his career in the 1970s, Green became a reverend and
chose to focus on gospel music. Years later, Green found a balance
between his religious calling and secular music and went on to release
several new albums.
Early Life
Al
Green was born Albert Greene on April 13, 1946, in Dansby, a small town
down the road from Forrest City, Arkansas. He began performing at a
young age, singing gospel music with his family as part of the Greene
Brothers. Even after the Greene family moved to Michigan, the Greene
Brothers continued touring on the gospel circuit.
After being
kicked out of the family home for listening to the secular music of
Jackie Wilson, Green started a group called the Creations, which later
became Al Greene and the Soul Mates. The Soul Mates had one hit, "Back
Up Train," which brought them to a successful appearance at New York
City's Apollo Theater.Commercial Success
After the Soul Mates failed to capitalize on their one hit, the group broke up and Al Green struck out out his own. It was at this time that he decided to drop the final "e" from his last name.
In 1968, while on the road in Texas, Green opened for producer Willie Mitchell. Impressed with what he heard, Mitchell signed Green to Hi Records of Memphis, Tennessee. As he started working closely with Mitchell, Green's soft phrasing and falsetto embellishments took soul in a new direction. In 1971, Green had a popular cover of The Temptations' "I Can't Get Next to You." Mitchell also produced Green's other huge hits of the 1970s, including the number one "Let's Stay Together" and "I'm Still in Love with You." With his ballads, his gifts of long-stemmed roses to female concertgoers and his golden voice, Green became a true star.
Reverend Al Green
While on the road in 1973, Al Green was born again as a Christian. Despite his revived faith, Green continued touring and releasing music much as he had previously, though he did leave audience members taken aback by occasionally pausing to sermonize during performances. But Green's life changed on October 18, 1974, when Mary Woodson, a woman who had walked away from her family to be with Green, attacked him in his bathroom with a pan of boiling hot grits. Woodson then shot and killed herself in Green's Memphis home.
During the long recovery from his third-degree burns, Green devoted himself to his faith. When Green had healed, he bought a church, the Full Gospel Tabernacle in Memphis, and began leading services there. In addition to becoming a pastor, Green turned back toward spiritual music. As Willie Mitchell didn't want to work on gospel songs, Green's 1977 album, The Belle Album, was self-produced. The new direction Green's life had taken was evident in the song "Belle," about a man torn between his love for a woman and his love for God. Working in Two Worlds
After falling off the stage during a 1979 concert, Al Green chose to focus on his church and released only inspirational music. But by the late 1980s, Green was singing some of his secular hits along with his gospel music. He then branched out to duets with Annie Lennox and Lyle Lovett, and even appeared on the TV show Ally McBeal.
In 2003, Green released the album I Can't Stop, which was produced by his former collaborator, Willie Mitchell. Green also explored new musical avenues on his 2008 album Lay It Down, working with producers Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson of the Roots and keyboardist James Poyser.
After turning away from the songs that had made him famous, Green has become comfortable with both his popular music and his religious vocation. In recent years, the famed musician was named on Rolling Stone magazine's "100 Greatest Artists of All Time" list
A night after being celebrated by President Barack Obama and other D.C. dignitaries at the Kennedy Center Honors, Al Green visited the Late Show With David Letterman.
The soul legend – still wearing the rainbow-colored ribbon and medal
around his neck and accompanied by Paul Shaffer and the CBS Orchestra –
performed a pair of Green's best tracks, "Tired of Being Alone" and
"Let's Stay Together," two of Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.
The performance was so rousing that Letterman exclaimed "Oh my God!"
four times following "Tired of Being Alone." The late night host, a
longtime Green fan, was also at the Kennedy Center Honors ceremony
Sunday night to pay tribute to actor Tom Hanks. At that ceremony, Usher,
Jennifer Hudson, Earth, Wind & Fire and Mavis Staples with Sam
& Dave's Sam Moore all performed Green tracks to celebrate his
contributions to music.
When Rolling Stone caught up with Hanks at the Kennedy
Center Honors, he talked about his love for Green's music. "Look, I'm
from Oakland, California, a funky town. And we had one of the greatest
soul stations in the world, KIDA, Lucky 13. Al Green, 'So Tired of Being
Alone,' 'Let's Stay Together,' it goes on and on and on," Hanks said,
adding that he wasn't familiar with Green's gospel work but was looking
forward to changing that. "When I get back to my laptop, I'm going to
download. I want to be able to tell Al Green, 'I've got all your
records, including the gospel stuff.'"
“Since
I can remember, women have wanted to get next to me, and when I sing,
it’s like they’ve received a personal invitation. There’s no use denying
it. I’ve tried.”
–Al Green 1
“All I know is that I met him, and he’s the luckiest motherfucker who ever lived.”
“Do I act normal to you?” When
one of the greatest pop icons to ever grab a microphone asks you this,
you just might be forgiven for thinking you’ve misheard the question.
For it is safe to suggest few geniuses—musical or otherwise—could ever
be mistaken for us and our genus normalis brethren, and the Reverend Al
Green is no exception. In fact, “normal” would not be high on the list
of adjectives most would ascribe to this indisputable soul legend.
“Smooth,” definitely. “Charismatic,” of course. “Hitmaker,”
uncontestable. “Lady-killer,” without a doubt. “Normal?” Uh…
Despite
an excellent documentary film and readily available autobiography for
those curious enough, Al Green’s life still baffles, still exudes
mystery, lore, and rumor like no singer before him. Still trying to get a
grip on Al Green? No worries, so is he.
“The
truth is, introducing the real Al Green is like introducing three
different people…and more often than not, they’re all fighting with each
other…. You never know which Al you’re going to get. And neither does
he.”1
Fact is, it’s hard to imagine someone
who has lived a less “normal” life. Long before he defined early ’70s
pop and soul, selling millions and millions of records the world over,
Al Green was one Albert Greene. And he was poor. Born April 13, 1946, in
Dansby, Arkansas, a town too small to warrant a stop sign, he and his
family of twelve came from a long line of sharecroppers, whose only two
certainties in life, for generations, were poverty and the church.
Everyone in the family went to church, and everyone could sing. Albert
would lie in the bed he shared with his four brothers, dreaming of one
day becoming like his cousin Herman, who was starting to make a splash
around Memphis as Little Junior Parker and whose 45s, like Al’s
cherished Jackie Wilson’s, were forbidden fodder in the Greene’s
two-room shotgun shack. Instead, Al’s father tried to channel his sons’
energies within the family’s gospel group.
“They call it show business. I call it indentured servitude.”1
Life
would be turned on its head, though, when the family abruptly uprooted
from Arkansas to the Northern promise of Grand Rapids, Michigan, and its
enticement of factory jobs. Rural dirt was replaced by urban soot, and
it was here that the young Al would get his first taste of street life.
His father, unable to find a job, became more determined for the
family’s gospel group, which would perform locally and regionally but
failed to make a dent. The choir was the only thing holding Albert in
school, and by the time he was sixteen, he had his own R&B group,
the Creations. His foray into secular music, however, got him (and his
busted 45s) kicked out of his family’s abode and onto the street, which
is where the other side of Al Green would become cultivated. He found
refuge with a prostitute and got dapper. Honing their vocals, the
Creations performed regularly in town backed by a pre-Motown Junior
Walker and his All Stars, before changing their name to Al Greene and
the Soul Mates and cutting a few records, including a minor hit, “Back
Up Train,” in ’68 that landed them a gig at the Apollo Theater. But
Green knew the group wouldn’t last. He dropped the last “e” from his
last name and set out on his own.
“One year, I’m a rock star; the next year, I’m a gospel preacher. I don’t understand.”3
Like
one of his idols, Sam Cooke, the Reverend fits into the crowded
pantheon of gospel and pop singers who have been tormented by the
tug-of-war between church and club. It’s no secret the pulpit has
informed and shaped popular music, let alone soul music, from the
get-go—there is a list of singers perhaps as thick as the Bible itself
who’ve crossed the pew lines and brought that sacred fire and phrasing
to the land of milk and honey(s). “The battle between the secular and
the sacred,” he writes in his book, Take Me to the River, “has
brought down more great Black musical artists than drugs or loose living
or any other hazard of the trade.” None, however, have been enmeshed
any deeper, or had such internal battle play out so publicly as Al
Green.
“They’ve staked a
no-man’s-land in my soul, separating the sacred and the profane. What
you see is what you get, depending on who’s winning the war, from day to
day and from hour to hour.”1
It’s a fool’s
game, certainly, but draw up your list of the greatest male pop singers,
and though some may be as good—Sam, Jackie, Smokey, Marvin, Curtis—none
were better than Al Green. Particularly at helping you and that special
someone slip into something just a little bit more comfortable. Armed
with a quiver of slinky, sensual songs that praised love, beauty and
happiness, and delivered with an unmatched tenor and charisma, unmoored
and siphoned from the church, Green created music that got under you
skin, while your skin got under the sheets.
“That
influenced my pop, because of the magnetics that I got out of the
gospel to be inspiring and to inspire and to have that electricity—see,
it takes electricity! You can’t create the charisma for fire. Either you
have the fire, or you don’t have the fire.”3
His
song titles say it all: “Tired of Being Alone,” “Let’s Stay Together,”
“I’m Still in Love with You,” “Love and Happiness,” “Simply Beautiful,”
“Livin’ for You,” “L-O-V-E (Love).” The people listened as his songs
blanketed the top of the charts again and again from 1971 to ’75. Of
course, he didn’t achieve such dominance alone. He had become part of an
indomitable hit-making team led by the indefatigable Willie Mitchell at
Memphis’s Royal Studios. Having met the down-on-his-luck
twenty-two-year-old Green at a shared gig in Midland, Texas, in ’68,
Mitchell took Green under his musical wing. In relatively short fashion,
the producer established the singer, the studio, and the record label
for which they recorded, Hi Records, as Memphis’s crown jewel. It was a
team that would become Memphis royalty. Elvis may have been the King,
but Al Green was soon its High Priest.
Mitchell harnessed Green’s
creative, spiritualized energy, buttressing it with a steadfast,
creative team of musicians, fortified primarily by the Brothers
Hodges—guitarist Teenie, bassist Leroy, organist Charles—drummer Howard
Grimes, the Memphis Horns, as well as a White trio of honey-voiced
backup singers, Chalmers, Rhodes, and Rhodes. In Robert Mugge’s ’84
film, The Gospel According to Al Green, Willie Mitchell recalls
telling the eager singer “to soften up some…you need to settle this
music down…[so] I began to write some jazz chords and try to get another
sound for Al.” It was a sound that Green—who moonlighted in the jazz
clubs of Grand Rapids—would embrace, a perfect combination of the
dynamics demanded of a jazz singer with the verve of soul. It also
didn’t hurt that one of pop music’s greatest drummers and key element to
crosstown rival Stax Records’ 1960s success, drummer Al Jackson Jr.,
was a frequent presence at Royal. He would help pen such Green smashes
as “I’m Still in Love with You,” “Call Me,” and “Let’s Stay Together,”
before his murder in 1975.
It was a tragedy that had followed
another tragedy in Green’s life a year earlier, one that helped hasten
the sacred pull Green had already started to feel in ’73 while at the
height of his commercial success (check out his ’73 Soul Train
performance of “Jesus Is Waiting,” broken arm and all). Mary Woodson was
her name, and she wanted Al Green for her husband. They were friends,
and, unbeknownst to him, she was already married and had three kids.
Late one night, having just finished a recording session at Royal, they
were at his house. She mentioned marriage; Green demurred. Soon after,
Green found himself writhing in unspeakable pain, a pot of scalding
grits having just found his back: “I seen this whole pot of water, and,
all of a sudden, I’m full of it! Boom. Man, I’m in total pain and shock…
Reached back, man, and I got two fingers full of skin.”3 Moments later, Woodson would be dead from two self-inflicted gunshot wounds.
“I
gotta figure out what to do! I mean, I got a million-dollar career
goin’ here, and I’m telling folks they need to be born again. I mean,
this is trippin’ me out, I tell ya!”3
The
clarion call of the pulpit was growing stronger, and he would at times
find himself in mid-trance, preaching to his audience during his sets,
raising the eyebrows of both his band and fans alike. It was something
he couldn’t deny nor control, so he bought a Memphis church, named it
the Full Gospel Tabernacle, and began life as a preacher. Mitchell sent
the Reverend on his own, and, in ’77, Green delivered his last secular
album, Belle. And then his secular career was, more or less, over.
Al
Green never disappeared, however, and he never stopped making music.
Ironically, he never won a Grammy for his pop gems, but throughout the
’80s and ’90s picked up several. In 2003, tempted once again by the
secular music world, he teamed with his former producer, Willie
Mitchell, and crew for I Can’t Stop, singing once again into his favorite mic number nine. Two years later, Everything’s OK would follow.
Five years into his secular comeback, he tells us, “Al Green is back on that stuff!” Lay It Down marks his third album for Blue Note Records. And while I Can’t Stop and Everything’s OK were better than just okay, they failed to approach Green/Mitchell’s golden ’70s touch. LID
gets closer to that heyday. Languid, yet excitable, full of Memphis
vibe and church stomp, the songs are soaked unabashedly once again with
hope and love.
The good reverend was kind enough to take a break
from his busy Easter schedule and share a few words. He wants you to
know that “it’s gonna be a hot summer!”
How different was recording Lay It Down for you compared to the last three or four decades of your recording career?
I
don’t think it was any different so much. We wrote the songs right
there on the floor, right when the band was trying to get the changes
down. So it was like fresh cream, baby. We wrote it right then and
there! Wasn’t like having some songs sitting twenty years in the closet
or nothing. This is fresh out the cow’s milk bag, baby! [howls]
So it was similar to how you, Willie Mitchell, and gang would record at Royal?
Yeah,
that’s how we used to do it, just sit at the piano and write it out!
That’s the way we write. I don’t know what we’re gonna do with all the
songs we wrote way over the years that we’ve had all this time. ’Cause
when we getting ready to do a project, we just go get a brand-new
motorcycle, get it all shined up, and do it! That’s kind of like that
song on [Lay It Down] called “I’m Wild About You.” It’s about
wild passion, about wild love. It’s about wild, wild, wild! I mean, I
don’t wanna ask for it, that would be criminal! You know I wanna take
it, if I take it, then I sure hope you ain’t mad at me! [laughs] I like that one.
Do you feel like your songwriting has changed much over the years? The inspiration?
I don’t know, I don’t know. No, it hasn’t changed for me. That’s what’s called baby-makin’ music.
You got that right! How many babies do you think have been made while listening to your music over the years?
Well,
over in London, they say a heck of a lot! So I guess they’re right. I
don’t know, I haven’t really thought of it like that! I was in London,
and a guy was saying that we make baby-makin’ music. I asked my manager
that was with me, “What did he say?” He says, “You make baby-makin’
music,” and I’m like, “Really?!”
I think you’re probably responsible for your own population boom.
Yeah,
I think that’s why they keep following that “Love and Happiness” and
“Let’s Stay Together.” A lot of folk was born when that music was hot,
ya know?
So you came up singing with your family.
Yeah, I came up singing with my brothers and my dad. We traveled around doing that. Just gospel.
When you were traveling with the family, were you on with other gospel acts like the Swan Silvertones?
Well,
we never did threaten anybody as crazy as the Swan Silvertone singers,
but, yeah, we were just on the placard with everybody else. Maybe if we
shot a magic balloon up in there and floated it down in the middle of
the concert and started singing, “Love and Happiness”… But we didn’t
have enough money to buy a balloon! [laughs]
So when did your first group, the Creations, form?
Uh,
when I was in eighth, ninth grade. That was Palmer James and Curtis
Rogers. We had a group called the Creations, and that was my first
singing outside of the family and the Book. We’d travel around, do Top
40 covers. I guess we sung about three, four years, different clubs,
different affairs and things. Then I started to sing by myself for some
reason, and my first job was in Cleveland or something like that. And
then my next job was in the Apollo Theater in New York City. It scared
me to death. I said, “My God, man, I am not ready for no Apollo
Theater!” So I rehearsed. Well, at that time, I didn’t even have a band;
I had to rehearse with the house band. I had rehearsed three songs, but
they wouldn’t let me sing but one song, and that was “Back Up Train.”
And they told me after that [song], that was it. Welcome to the Apollo!
So I’d come out every show, sing my one song—tuh duhhh!—then
that was it; I was gone off the stage. We got held over a week. [It was
me], the Staple Singers, Wilson Pickett, and a lot of other folks. We
would do, like, one, two, three shows a day.
Did you get to hang out much with the Staple Singers or Wilson Pickett?
No,
because I’m not a hangout type of guy. I’m not the hangout type. I
don’t hang out with people. I’m kind of like, um, I don’t know what
I am. I don’t have any friends, I don’t have no hangouts, I don’t have
no parties, I don’t have none of that. I’m just not a hangout type of
guy. If they was sitting in my dressing [room], I still wouldn’t be
hanging out with them, ’cause I’m like a—[laughs] I don’t know what I am, man! I can’t figure out what I am. I’m just the way I am, and that’s it! [pauses] Do I act normal to you?
I’m sorry?
Do I act normal to you?
Well, I wouldn’t know normal if it smacked me in the head, so I don’t know!
There
ya go, thank you! That’s exactly what I was saying. Normal could be
normal for someone else but not normal for another person!
Well, when did you really start seeing and hearing performers that inspired you, and you said, “Hey, this is what I want to do?”
Umm,
I really had an Elvis Presley collection of records, myself. I lived in
Grand Rapids, Michigan, and I liked all the Elvis records. I never had
any idea I would move to Memphis, Tennessee; I didn’t know Elvis lived
in Memphis. I don’t know…Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Otis Redding,
Jimi Hendrix, David Ruffin, Eddie Kendricks, you know, I liked them.
See, we were used to the Motown era and the Stax era.
And the Hi Records era.
Yeah, well, it don’t make no difference. Hi Records and Stax is all really Memphis.
So
between Hi Records and Stax, was there much rivalry, or was it just a
big collective making that great Memphis music at the time?
No,
that wasn’t the way it was. It was very choppy. Everybody was very
selfish; it was each company against the other. And now, later on, it
turned out to be really all for the good. Because everybody would be
cutting something to the best of their ability and making it the best
they could make it, ’cause they knew that the people across town would
try to match it with something else. So we did “Let’s Stay Together,”
and then Sam and Dave did [sings] “I’m a soul man, bahdahdahdadadaa, I’m a soul man.” So I said, “Okay, then fine: [sings] Spending my days, thinking about you, girl!” And then they said, “Oh hell, then we gotta get Isaac” to do whatever. Oh man, that’s how it was.
So it drove people to do better.
There
ya go. It makes people actually work harder. Even if there’s nothing
but struggles, and the stressed-out part of every time you put out
something, somebody’s trying to outdo it. And that was really healthy
for both companies. ’Cause Isaac Hayes and the Hot Buttered Soul and the Shaft
thing and that whole nine yards, well, that was fine, but Al Green came
out with “Sha-La-La (Make Me Happy),” and that sold five, six million.
So that’s the way it was at the time.
Now me and Isaac work on
shows together sometimes and start talking about it and hug one another
and laugh. It got really silly. I cut a song called “One Woman,” and the
next week and a half, Isaac had “One Woman” out, and you know that
peeved us off, “Damn, man, I just put out ‘One Woman’ last week!” So we
laugh about it, ain’t about nothing. Memphis music was Hi Records and
Stax!
You had Al Jackson Jr. working both studios, so crucial to both places.
Well,
Al Jackson could play where he wanna play! That’s his prerogative, to
play where he wanna play. If he wanna play on an Al Green session, he
can play on an Al Green session! Who’s to tell him he can’t play with Al
Green, ’cause he’s the drummer over at Stax? He can play wherever the
hell he wanna play! Al Jackson Jr. was a visionary. He was a great guy,
wonderful guy.
Was he playing on a lot of those cuts, or would he just be composing and then have Howard Grimes playing on them?
Yeah,
he was playing! Yeah, there were two, three drummers around, four, five
guitar players…a bunch of people hanging around. Teenie Hodges and Skip
[Pitts] and various ones; sometimes two, three guitar players playin’
on the same song. Me and Al [Jackson] played on “Tired of Being Alone.”
Yeah, I play on “Tired of Being Alone.” And now that I played on it, I
just think, hmm, now how the heck did I do that?
Well, your guitar playing is always so tasty; when did you actually learn to play the guitar?
After my brother beat me over the head about nine times for messing with his.
Oh, that’ll do it.
Yeah,
that’ll do it. He’d say, “You think you’re T-Bone Walker?” He used to
have a guitar, a big red one, a Rickenbacker. And I used to sneak and
play it when he was gone, oh man! And he’d come back home and take his
guitar out, and his strings were out of tune, and he’d say, “Al, you
been messing with the guitar?” And I’d say, “Nope!” Well, he let me have
one upside the head a couple of times, said to leave it alone, and I’d
say okay. He’d leave home the next day: I’d be playing it again! I
couldn’t help it, man. I don’t know. I had a certain…I just didn’t know
how to play the guitar, but I had the desire.
Do you write songs, ideas for songs, on your guitar? Like, say, “Simply Beautiful.”
Oh yeah, that’s right! That’s Al playing that! [sings intro guitar line] Yeah, that’s me. I forgot about that!
How could you forget that one?
Man,
see down here where we are, we don’t wear our accomplishments on our
sleeves. You do a thing, sometimes you forget you’ve done it. Right now,
I’ve got one, two, three, four, five books open on this table, and I
guarantee you I can’t read but one at a time. But I’m a bookworm, and I
like to know stuff. I have a library; therefore, I get books and look it
up. I don’t just sit around going, duh. You get the hell up
and look it up! And then, therefore, it puts me in the position to skip
the dull parts and say what it’s about. To know with some affirmative
what it is. That’s what my daddy taught me.
Right.
And my momma said, [heavy drawl]
“You gonna be a little different than the rest of the children.” And
I’m going like, “Why?” Because, I mean, I got my brothers and sisters,
so therefore, we got the same mom and daddy. Why should I be any
different? And she says, [lilting] “Well, you gonna be a little
different, Al, so you just gonna have to get used to it!” I said,
“Well, what could be different?” And she says, “Well, Al, you just gonna
have to wait till it comes now.” So I just don’t know how
different, or if I’m different at all. I guess I’m different, ’cause my
brothers and sisters, they don’t…they love me…but they don’t…really know
how to show it.
Your father sang; your mother sing as well?
Yeah, my momma could sing like a jaybird! It was just in the family, everybody in the family could sing. Everybody sings.
Speaking of family, Little Junior Parker was a cousin of yours. Did you guys ever sing together?
No, he was way before my time. I was too young. [giggles] I was still takin’ sandwiches to school! [laughs]
But, yeah, I got to hear a lot of great people. Like the Hendrix guy.
Got to hear him play the “Star-Spangled Banner” at the Woodstock stage,
and I thought it was just… Number one, it’s just odd for someone to come
out on a heavy metal–type rock-and-roll stage and play the
“Star-Spangled Banner.” Number two, everybody at Woodstock was stoned
except Jimi! Not one of the [other] times did I ever see him was he not
stoned. And he comes up with this fantastic idea to play the
“Star-Spangled Banner.” Awesome! And he made his guitar sound like the
jet planes and all that stuff. I mean, it was incredible! My guitar
player, Larry Lee, used to play with Hendrix and the Band of Gypsys.
Larry used to talk about him all the time.
Your pop music had so much church in it. Can you talk about the Hammond organ and how people respond to it?
Oh,
we know people respond to it! But I’m not gonna give away [organist
Charles Hodges’s] secrets. But Jimmy Smith! Oh my God, Jimmy Smith, oh
man, on organ, he’s just the top, top, top, top, you know! He’s kind of
like the Sidney Poitier of the organ, the cream of the crop. Anything
about organ, Jimmy Smith, gonna know it!
Well, I’ll tell you what,
it was nice talking to you and have a good and blessed and happy day.
Now Mahalia Jackson and Satchmo and Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan,
all these people are gonna be very upset with you, because you
didn’t ask Al Green their influence in his career. Sam Cooke, Marvin
Gaye, and all these people, Lou Rawls, they gonna be really unhappy with
you, so you write all their names down and say, “Al said these people are gonna be very angry with me.” [laughs]
What about Curtis Mayfield and the Impressions?
[sings falsetto] “Keep on pushin’!”
Oh yeah, I did a lot of shows with Curtis and the Impressions, yeah! My
God, he’s just incredible, just incredible. Those guys, oh man, they
came up with some songs! [sings] “People get ready, there’s a train a comin’.” I mean, really incredible stuff. Yeah,
that’s when I was just getting started. We started in Cleveland,
Ohio—don’t know why we kept going to this Cleveland, Ohio; I don’t know
what that’s supposed to mean; it was a hotbed for something—and from
there, we would go to the Apollo, to Detroit, to Chicago, then,
wherever.
Well, you know what Sam Cooke says? What he said on his records all the time?
No, what’s that?
I don’t wanna leave! [laughs] But I gotta go! [laughs] I like that one, man. Man, he just tore the house apart, you understand me? And then he goes, “I gotta go!” Then walks away from the mic a little bit, then turns around, wooo, what a big tease he was! He was really incredible. Take care yourself! Happy Easter now!
Al Green
was the first great soul singer of the '70s and arguably the last great
Southern soul singer. With his seductive singles for Hi Records in the
early '70s, Green
bridged the gap between deep soul and smooth Philadelphia soul. He
incorporated elements of gospel, interjecting his performances with wild
moans and wails, but his records were stylish, boasting immaculate
productions that rolled along with a tight beat, sexy backing vocals,
and lush strings. The distinctive Hi Records sound that the vocalist and
producer Willie Mitchell developed made Al Green
the most popular and influential soul singer of the early '70s,
influencing not only his contemporaries, but also veterans like Marvin Gaye. Green
was at the peak of his popularity when he suddenly decided to join the
ministry in the mid-'70s. At first, he continued to record secular
material, but by the '80s, he was concentrating solely on gospel. During
the late '80s and '90s, he occasionally returned to R&B, but he
remained primarily a religious performer for the rest of his career.
Nevertheless, Green's
classic early- '70s recordings retained their power and influence
throughout the decades, setting the standard for smooth soul.
Green was born in Forrest City, AR, where he formed a gospel quartet, the Green Brothers, at the age of nine. The group toured throughout the South in the mid-'50s, before the family relocated to Grand Rapids, MI. the Green Brothers continued to perform in Grand Rapids, but Al's father kicked the boy out of the group after he caught his son listening to Jackie Wilson. At the age of 16, Al formed an R&B group, Al Green & the Creations, with several of his high-school friends. Two Creation members, Curtis Rogers
and Palmer James, founded their own independent record company, Hot
Line Music Journal, and had the group record for the label. By that
time, the Creations had been re-named the Soul Mates.
The group's first single, "Back Up Train," became a surprise hit,
climbing to number five on the R&B charts early in 1968. the Soul Mates attempted to record another hit, but all of their subsequent singles failed to find an audience.
In 1969, Al Green met bandleader and Hi Records vice president Willie Mitchell while on tour in Midland, Texas. Impressed with Green's voice, he signed the singer to Hi Records, and began collaborating with Al on his debut album. Released in early 1970, Green's debut album, Green Is Blues, showcased the signature sound he and Mitchell devised -- a sinewy, sexy groove highlighted by horn punctuations and string beds that let Green
showcase his remarkable falsetto. While the album didn't spawn any hit
singles, it was well-received and set the stage for the breakthrough
success of his second album. Al Green Gets Next to You (1970) launched his first hit single, "Tired of Being Alone," which began a streak of four straight gold singles. Let's Stay Together
(1972) was his first genuine hit album, climbing to number eight on the
pop charts; its title track became his first number one single. I'm Still in Love With You,
which followed only a few months later, was an even greater success,
peaking at number four and launching the hits "Look What You Done for
Me" and "I'm Still in Love With You."
By the release of 1973's Call Me, Green
was known as both a hitmaker and an artist who released consistently
engaging, frequently excellent, critically-acclaimed albums. His hits
continued uninterrupted through the next two years, with "Call Me,"
"Here I Am," and "Sha-La-La (Make Me Happy)" all becoming Top Ten gold
singles. At the height of his popularity, Green's
former girlfriend, Mrs. Mary Woodson, broke into his Memphis home in
October 1974 and poured boiling grits on the singer as he was bathing,
inflicting second-degree burns on his back, stomach, and arm; after
assaulting Green, she killed herself with his gun. Green
interpreted the violent incident as a sign from God that he should
enter the ministry. By 1976, he had bought a church in Memphis and had
become an ordained pastor of the Full Gospel Tabernacle. Though he had
begun to seriously pursue religion, he had not given up singing R&B
and he released three other Mitchell-produced albums -- Al Green Is Love (1975), Full of Fire (1976), Have a Good Time
(1976) -- after the incident. However, his albums began to sound
formulaic, and his sales started to slip by the end of 1976, with disco
cutting heavily into his audience.
In order to break free from his slump, Green stopped working with Willie Mitchell
in 1977 and built his own studio, American Music, where he intended to
produce his own records. The first album he made at American Music was The Belle Album, an intimate record that was critically acclaimed but failed to win a crossover audience. Truth and Time (1978) failed to even generate a major R&B hit. During a concert in Cincinnati in 1979, Green fell off the stage and nearly injured himself seriously. Interpreting the accident as a sign from God, Green
retired from performing secular music and devoted himself to preaching.
Throughout the '80s, he released a series of gospel albums on Myrrh
Records. In 1982, Green appeared in the gospel musical Your Arms Too Short to Box With God with Patti Labelle. In 1985, he reunited with Willie Mitchell for He Is the Light, his first album for A&M Records.
Green tentatively returned to R&B in 1988 when he sang "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" with Annie Lennox for the Bill Murray comedy Scrooged. Four years later, he recorded his first full-fledged soul album since 1978 with the U.K.-only Don't Look Back. Al Green was inducted to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1995. That same year, he released Your Heart's in Good Hands, an urban contemporary record that represented his first secular album to be released in America since Truth and Time. Though the album received positive reviews, it failed to become a hit. Green
did achieve widespread recognition eight years later with his first
album for Blue Note, I Can't Stop. One and a half years later, he
followed it with Everything's OK. His third Blue Note album, 2008's Lay It Down, featured an updated sound that still echoed the feel of his classic earlier soul style.
THE MUSIC OF AL GREEN: AN EXTENSIVE VIDEO OVERVIEW, A CROSS SECTION OF RECORDINGS, MUSICAL ANALYSIS AND COMMENTARY, PLUS VARIOUS INTERVIEWS WITH MR. GREEN:
Inductee: Al Green (vocals, guitar; born April 13, 1946)
With his incomparable voice, full of falsetto swoops and nuanced
turns of phrase, Al Green rose to prominence in the Seventies. One of
the most gifted purveyors of soul music, Green has sold more than 20
million records. During 1972 and 1973, he placed six consecutive singles
in the Top 10: “Let’s Stay Together,” “Look What You Done for Me,” “I’m
Still in Love With You,” “You Ought to Be With Me,” “Call Me” and “Here
I Am (Come and Take Me).” “Let’s Stay Together” topped the pop chart
for one week and the R&B charts for nine; it was also revived with
great success by Tina Turner in 1984. In terms of popularity and
artistry, Green was the top male soul singer in the world, voluntarily
ending his reign with a move from secular to gospel music in 1979.
Beyond his chart-making abilities, Green set a new standard for soul music and essentially created a new kind
of soul – one that combined the gritty, down-home sensibility of the
Memphis based Stax-Volt sound with the polished, sweeter delivery of
Motown. Over a fat, funky bottom, Green’s subtle and inventive voice
would soar into falsetto range with beguiling ease. His finest
recordings showcase a penchant for jazzy filigree and soulful possession
rivaled by the likes of Marvin Gaye and Aretha Franklin.
They also are the products of teamwork, as Green benefited immensely
from a longstanding association with producer Willie Mitchell and the
house band at Hi Records.
Green was born on an Arkansas farm in 1946 and grew up in Grand
Rapids, Michigan. He sang gospel with the Greene Brothers, a family
quartet, and belonged to the Creations and the Soul Mates in the
Sixties. In 1967, Al Green and the Soul Mates had a Number Five R&B
hit with “Back Up Train.” In terms of influences, “I was raised on the
sound of Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers,”
Green has said. A fateful crossing of paths between Green and Willie
Mitchell in Texas, where both were performing, resulted in Green’s
signing to Memphis-based Hi Records in 1969. Mitchell produced Green’s
recordings and co-wrote material with him for the next eight years. It
was a fruitful association that yielded high-quality albums (such as I’m Still in Love With You and Call Me), as well as 13 Top 40 hits that helped keep the sound of soul pure and alive in the Seventies.
Mitchell cut Green’s groove-oriented records at his Royal Recording
Studio, a converted movie theater in downtown Memphis. Essential
components of Green and Mitchell’s mix of silky ballads and bouncy funk
included the Hi Records studio band: guitarist Mabon “Teenie” Hodges,
bassist Leroy Hodges, keyboardist Charles Hodges and drummer Howard
Grimes. In addition, drummer Al Jackson (of Booker T. and the M.G.’s)
co-wrote and played on many of Green’s biggest hits. Strings, horns and
backup singers added to the intricate tapestry. But it was Green’s
light, skillful touch as a vocalist that made it all work so well.
Green’s breakthrough came in 1971 with “Tired of Being Alone” (Number
Seven R&B, Number 11 pop). A slew of hits followed, keeping Green
in the Top 40 (and often the Top 10) through 1976. His consistent
quality and flawless phrasing prompted music critic Robert Christgau to
pronounce him among “the half dozen prime geniuses of soul.” His peak
work as an R&B master is contained on a string of hit-filled albums
released in the early Seventies: Al Green Gets Next to You (1971), I’m Still In Love With You (1972), Let’s Stay Together (1972), Call Me (1973) and Livin’ for You (1973).
With The Belle Album (1977), Green made an overt turn toward
religious themes. The album was self-produced, as Mitchell amicably
parted ways with Green over his turn to gospel. The 12th album of his
career, it was “the most important release of my life,” according to
Green in his autobiography, Take Me to the River. He
elaborated: “God had called me to a higher place, turned me away from
earthly to heavenly love, and while it hurt to say it, I had to leave
the sensual for the spiritual.”
During the Eighties, Green recorded inspirational music for the Myrrh
label while serving as pastor at a church he founded. The Nineties
found him returning to his soul roots from time to time, yet to this day
he remains primarily a singer and preacher of the gospel. On most
Sundays, Green occupies the pulpit at Full Gospel Tabernacle Church on
Hale Road in Memphis. The public is welcome to witness Green’s sermons,
which are no less full of fire and feeling than the flood of singles
that set the standard for soul in the Seventies.
- See more at: http://www.rockhall.com/inductees/al-green/bio/#sthash.e3sG4b32.dpuf
Inductee: Al Green (vocals, guitar; born April 13, 1946)
With his incomparable voice, full of falsetto swoops and nuanced
turns of phrase, Al Green rose to prominence in the Seventies. One of
the most gifted purveyors of soul music, Green has sold more than 20
million records. During 1972 and 1973, he placed six consecutive singles
in the Top 10: “Let’s Stay Together,” “Look What You Done for Me,” “I’m
Still in Love With You,” “You Ought to Be With Me,” “Call Me” and “Here
I Am (Come and Take Me).” “Let’s Stay Together” topped the pop chart
for one week and the R&B charts for nine; it was also revived with
great success by Tina Turner in 1984. In terms of popularity and
artistry, Green was the top male soul singer in the world, voluntarily
ending his reign with a move from secular to gospel music in 1979.
Beyond his chart-making abilities, Green set a new standard for soul music and essentially created a new kind
of soul – one that combined the gritty, down-home sensibility of the
Memphis based Stax-Volt sound with the polished, sweeter delivery of
Motown. Over a fat, funky bottom, Green’s subtle and inventive voice
would soar into falsetto range with beguiling ease. His finest
recordings showcase a penchant for jazzy filigree and soulful possession
rivaled by the likes of Marvin Gaye and Aretha Franklin.
They also are the products of teamwork, as Green benefited immensely
from a longstanding association with producer Willie Mitchell and the
house band at Hi Records.
Green was born on an Arkansas farm in 1946 and grew up in Grand
Rapids, Michigan. He sang gospel with the Greene Brothers, a family
quartet, and belonged to the Creations and the Soul Mates in the
Sixties. In 1967, Al Green and the Soul Mates had a Number Five R&B
hit with “Back Up Train.” In terms of influences, “I was raised on the
sound of Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers,”
Green has said. A fateful crossing of paths between Green and Willie
Mitchell in Texas, where both were performing, resulted in Green’s
signing to Memphis-based Hi Records in 1969. Mitchell produced Green’s
recordings and co-wrote material with him for the next eight years. It
was a fruitful association that yielded high-quality albums (such as I’m Still in Love With You and Call Me), as well as 13 Top 40 hits that helped keep the sound of soul pure and alive in the Seventies.
Mitchell cut Green’s groove-oriented records at his Royal Recording
Studio, a converted movie theater in downtown Memphis. Essential
components of Green and Mitchell’s mix of silky ballads and bouncy funk
included the Hi Records studio band: guitarist Mabon “Teenie” Hodges,
bassist Leroy Hodges, keyboardist Charles Hodges and drummer Howard
Grimes. In addition, drummer Al Jackson (of Booker T. and the M.G.’s)
co-wrote and played on many of Green’s biggest hits. Strings, horns and
backup singers added to the intricate tapestry. But it was Green’s
light, skillful touch as a vocalist that made it all work so well.
Green’s breakthrough came in 1971 with “Tired of Being Alone” (Number
Seven R&B, Number 11 pop). A slew of hits followed, keeping Green
in the Top 40 (and often the Top 10) through 1976. His consistent
quality and flawless phrasing prompted music critic Robert Christgau to
pronounce him among “the half dozen prime geniuses of soul.” His peak
work as an R&B master is contained on a string of hit-filled albums
released in the early Seventies: Al Green Gets Next to You (1971), I’m Still In Love With You (1972), Let’s Stay Together (1972), Call Me (1973) and Livin’ for You (1973).
With The Belle Album (1977), Green made an overt turn toward
religious themes. The album was self-produced, as Mitchell amicably
parted ways with Green over his turn to gospel. The 12th album of his
career, it was “the most important release of my life,” according to
Green in his autobiography, Take Me to the River. He
elaborated: “God had called me to a higher place, turned me away from
earthly to heavenly love, and while it hurt to say it, I had to leave
the sensual for the spiritual.”
During the Eighties, Green recorded inspirational music for the Myrrh
label while serving as pastor at a church he founded. The Nineties
found him returning to his soul roots from time to time, yet to this day
he remains primarily a singer and preacher of the gospel. On most
Sundays, Green occupies the pulpit at Full Gospel Tabernacle Church on
Hale Road in Memphis. The public is welcome to witness Green’s sermons,
which are no less full of fire and feeling than the flood of singles
that set the standard for soul in the Seventies.
- See more at: http://www.rockhall.com/inductees/al-green/bio/#sthash.e3sG4b32.dpuf
The
Kennedy Center Honorees represent the best in American arts and
culture. But this year, the most soulful of them all is the legendary Al
Green, reports CBS News correspondent Anthony Mason.
At 68 years old, his voice still seduces and he said there's nothing to keeping it sounding as good as it is.
"Some
people's voice change as they get older or different ages. But mine is
still about the same," Green said. "I can hit higher notes now. Only
thing you gotta do is step on my foot," he said laughing.
One of
the great soul singers of his time, the Reverend Al Green's career has
taken him from gospel to R&B and back, winning him the 11 Grammy
awards that decorate his church office in Memphis.
The son of an
Arkansas sharecropper, Green grew up in Grand Rapids, Michigan and said
he pretty much always knew he wanted to be a singer.
After his
father kicked him out of the house for playing Jackie Wilson records, he
formed a group. Al Green & the Soul Mates had a modest hit with
"Back up Train" in 1968. Then Green's voice caught the ear of producer
Willie Mitchell.
"So Willie said, 'I wonder if you can come down
and look at the studio?' I said, 'No.' So I went back to Grand Rapids,"
Green said.
There was a reason he didn't go.
"Cause I didn't
know what he wanted. And I didn't see the vision that he saw," Green
said. "He discovered Al Green. I didn't. I was tryin' to sing like
Wilson Pickett and James Brown and all these other folks. You know, they
were great people to me. Not Al Green. I mean Al Green, who's Al Green?
Come on now."
But he changed his mind and went down to Royal Studios in Memphis, where Mitchell would push his protégé.
"And
then he goes, 'Al.' I said, 'Yeah?' 'You're tryin' too hard. Relax and
sing Al Green.' And I said, 'You see, I don't know how Al Green
sounds,'" he recalled. "I said, 'Okay, now what do you want me to sing?
I'm not even gonna try to put no emphasis in it at all.' He said, 'Well,
okay.'"
It was 1970 and the next four years would be Al Green's
golden era. He and Mitchell would score eight gold singles. You could
say he had it all.
"But I wouldn't accept that. I don't want it
all, 'cause that scares me," Green said. "Well, I don't wanna feel
accomplished, like I've accomplished everything and so I don't have
nothin' to worry about. You know, you gotta stay hungry all the time."
At the peak of his success, after a concert in Disneyland in 1973, Green had a dream and woke up born-again.
"I
was scared to ask why it happened then that night. 'Cause I don't want
nothin' to change. I said, 'Whatever your will is for me, I'll accept
it,'" he said.
So for nearly 38 years now, the Baptist bishop has
been preaching to his Memphis congregation at the Full Gospel Tabernacle
Church.
But he never gave up recording, and after eight gospel
Grammys, he finally won his first for R&B in 2009. That year he also
filled in at the last minute with Justin Timberlake after Rihanna and
Chris Brown cancelled.
"Me and Justin did 'Let's Stay Together.'
And we saved the world! Not really, but you know, we like to kinda fluff
on it and think that we did help out a little bit," he said.
Green
said he's working on more music, a gospel album. After that, the
Reverend Al Green wants to go back to the American songbook.
The FUNK n’ Soul of Al Green – The Al Green Interview
I actually had the fortune to have met Al Green, the first time I
interviewed him. As it was in the latter 90s when I conducted it, the
living legend was already extremely accomplished by that time. He
reflected on his beginnings in music and spoke of his early days in the
studio with Willie Mitchell.
He talked to me about the inspirations for many of his hits and his
spiritual journey of being born again and becoming a minister. A modest
man, he bears no responsibility for anyone who claims to be conceived
from his music, but recounts once meeting a stewardess who made such a
claim.
The photo below was taken when I first met Al Green, I speak of that
meeting at the top of the interview. When he saw me, he thought I may
have interviewed him before, I looked familiar to him.
Al Green continues to record music today and has been the recipient
for Grammy Awards as recently as 2009. He took home honors for BEST R
& B PERFORMANCE BY A DUO OR GROUP WITH VOCALS for “Stay With Me (By
The Sea),” which featured John Legend; AND BEST TRADITIONAL R&B
VOCAL PERFORMANCE for “You’ve Got The Love I Need,” that features
Anthony Hamilton. Both songs were taken from his CD “Lay It Down.”
Al Green was born Albert Greene on April 13, 1946 in Forrest City, Arkansas.[5] The sixth of ten children born to Cora Lee and Robert G. Greene, Jr., a sharecropper,
Al began performing with his brothers in a group called the Greene
Brothers around the age of ten. The Greene family relocated to Grand Rapids, Michigan in the late 1950s.[6]
Raised in a religiously devout family, Al was kicked out of the family
home in his teens after his father caught him listening to Jackie Wilson.[7]
"I also listened to Mahalia Jackson, all the great gospel singers. But the most important music to me was those hip-shakin’ boys: Wilson Pickett and Elvis Presley. I just loved Elvis Presley. Whatever he got, I went out and bought."
In high school, Al formed a vocal group called Al Greene & The
Creations. Two of the group's members, Curtis Rodgers and Palmer James,
formed an independent label called Hot Line Music Journal. In 1968,
having changed their name to Al Greene & The Soul Mates, they
recorded the song "Back Up Train", releasing it on Hot Line Music. The song became a chart hit on the R&B charts. However, the group's subsequent follow-ups failed to chart, as did their debut album, Back Up Train. While performing with the Soul Mates, Al came into contact with Memphis record producer Willie Mitchell
in 1969 when Mitchell hired him to be a vocalist for a Texas show with
Mitchell's band. Following the performance, Mitchell asked Al to sign
for his Hi Records label.
Early success
Having noted that Al had been trying to sing like Jackie Wilson, Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett and James Brown,
Mitchell became his vocal mentor, coaching him into finding his own
voice. Before releasing his first album with Hi, Green removed the final
"e" from his name. Subsequently, Green released Green Is Blues, which became a moderate success. Green's follow-up album, Al Green Gets Next to You, featured Green's hit R&B cover of The Temptations' "I Can't Get Next to You", recorded in a slow blues-oriented version. The album also featured his first significant hit, "Tired of Being Alone",
which sold half a million copies and was certified gold, becoming the
first of seven consecutive gold singles Green would record in the next
couple of years.
In addition to these hit singles, Green also had radio hits with songs such as "Love and Happiness", his cover of the Bee Gees' "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart", "Simply Beautiful", "What a Wonderful Thing Love Is" and "Take Me to the River", later covered successfully by new wave band Talking Heads and blues artist Syl Johnson. Green continued to record successful R&B hits in the next several years including "Livin' for You", "Let's Get Married", "Sha-La-La (Makes Me Happy)", "L-O-V-E (Love)" and "Full of Fire". By the time Green released the album, The Belle Album
in 1977, however, Green's record sales had plummeted, partially due to
Green's own personal issues during this time and his desire to become a minister.[8] His last Hi Records album, Truth n' Time, was released in 1978 and failed to become a success. Two years later, he left Hi for Myrrh Records and recorded only gospel music for the next decade and a half.
Gospel recordings and return to secular music
Green's first gospel album, The Lord Will Make a Way, was released in 1980. The title song from the album would later win Green his first of eight Grammy Awards in the Best Soul Gospel Performance category. In 1982, Green co-starred with Patti LaBelle on the Broadway play, "Your Arms Too Short to Box with God".[9] His 1985 gospel album, He Is the Light reunited Green with Willie Mitchell while his 1987 follow-up, Soul Survivor,
featured the minor hit, "Everything's Gonna Be Alright", which reached
number 22 on the R&B chart, his first top 40 R&B hit since "I
Feel Good" in 1978.
Green returned to secular music in 1988 recording "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" with Annie Lennox. Featured on the soundtrack to the movie, Scrooged, the song became Green's first top 10 pop hit since 1974. Green had a hit in 1989 with "The Message is Love" with producer Arthur Baker. Two years later, he recorded the theme song to the short-lived show Good Sports.[10] In 1993, he signed with RCA and with Baker again as producer, released the album, Don't Look Back. Green received his ninth Grammy award for his collaboration with Lyle Lovett for their duet of "Funny How Time Slips Away". Green's 1995 album, Your Heart's In Good Hands, was released around the same period when Green was inducted to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.[11] The one single released from the album, "Keep On Pushing Love" was described as "invoking the original, sparse sound of his [Green's] early classics."[12]
On October 18, 1974, sometime after Al Green Explores Your Mind was released, Mary Woodson White, a girlfriend of Green's, assaulted him before committing suicide at his Memphis home.[10] Although she was already married, White reportedly became upset when Green refused to marry her.[17] At some point during the evening, White doused Green with a pan of boiling grits while he was bathing, causing severe burns on Green's back, stomach and arms.[18] She then found his .38 and killed herself. The police found in her purse a note declaring her intentions and her reasons.
Turn to the ministry
Green cited the incident with White as a wake-up call to change his life.[10] He became an ordained pastor of the Full Gospel Tabernacle in Memphis in 1976.[19]
Continuing to record R&B, Green saw his sales start to slip and
drew mixed reviews from critics. In 1979 Green injured himself falling
off the stage while performing in Cincinnati and interpreted this as a
message from God. He then concentrated his energies towards pastoring
his church and gospel singing. His first gospel album was The Lord Will Make a Way. From 1981 to 1989 Green recorded a series of gospel albums, garnering eight "soul gospel performance" Grammy Awards in that period. In 1985, he reunited with Willie Mitchell along with Angelo Earl for He Is the Light, his first album for A&M Records. In 1984, director Robert Mugge released a documentary film, Gospel According to Al Green, including interviews about his life and footage from his church.[20]
In June 1977, Green married Shirley Kyles.[22] They had three daughters together, Alva, Rubi and Kora.[22] The marriage lasted until January 1983. Shirley would later allege that Green had been subjecting her to domestic violence throughout their marriage.[22]
On August 26, 2004, Green was honored as a BMI Icon at the annual BMI Urban Awards. He joined an impressive list of previous Icon honorees including R&B legends James Brown, Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Bo Diddley[25]
Darden, Robert; Darden, Bob (2005). People Get Ready!: A New History of Black Gospel Music. Continuum International Publishing Group. p. 296. ISBN0-8264-1752-3.
Booth, Stanley (2000). Rhythm Oil: A Journey Through the Music of the American South. Da Capo Press. p. 150. ISBN0-306-80979-6.
Strong, Martin C.; Peel, John (2004). The Great Rock Discography: Complete Discographies Listing Every Track Recorded by More Than 1,200 Artists. Canongate U.S. p. 628. ISBN1-84195-615-5.
Kofi Natambu, editor of and contributor to Sound Projections, is a writer, poet, cultural critic, and political journalist whose poetry, essays, criticism, reviews, and journalism have appeared in many literary magazines, journals, newspapers, and anthologies. He has written extensively about music as a critic and historian for many publications, including the Black Scholar, Downbeat, Solid Ground: A New World Journal, Detroit Metro Times, KONCH, the Panopticon Review,Black Renaissance Noire, the Village Voice, the City Sun (NYC), the Poetry Project Newsletter (NYC), and the African American Review. He is the author of a biography Malcolm X: His Life & Work (Alpha Books) and two books of poetry: The Melody Never Stops (Past Tents Press) and Intervals (Post Aesthetic Press). He was the founder and editor of Solid Ground: A New World Journal, a national quarterly magazine of the arts, culture, and politics and the editor of a literary anthology Nostalgia for the Present (Post Aesthetic Press). Natambu has read his work throughout the country and given many lectures and workshops at academic and arts institutions. He has taught American literature, literary theory and criticism, cultural history and criticism, film studies, political science, creative writing, philosophy, critical theory, and music history and criticism (Jazz, Blues, R&B, Hip Hop) at many universities and colleges. He was also a curator in the Education Department of Detroit’s Museum of African American History. Born in Detroit, Michigan, Natambu currently lives in Berkeley, California with his wife Chuleenan.
