Dusty in Memphis

Dusty Springfield left the comforts of her British homeland and the pop music that made her famous to record this classic album in Memphis with Atlantic Record’s all star production team and The Memphis Cats, some of the hottest session players around. Somewhat of a departure for her, the soul and R&B tunes supposedly gave Dusty a bit of trouble, of which the record provides no evidence. Producer Jerry Wexler was also surprised, given Dusty's talent, by her apparent insecurity. An admitted perfectionist, she later attributed her initial unease to a very real anxiety about being compared with the musical titans who had recorded in the same studios with the same personnel. And even though she ended up recording most of her parts in New York and demonstrating her vocal versatility on the eclectic range of songs, the album, released in 1969, still retains the southern, Memphis soul sound that Atlantic Records helped define in the sixties.

While the album is cohesive enough to be considered wholly soulful (due in large part to Dusty’s robust, dynamic voice), there exist key tracks that exemplify her mastery of the varying styles present in the selections. “I don’t want to hear it anymore,” written by relative newcomer Randy Newman puts Dusty’s voice on display. It’s mixed way up front and it sounds so distinct, husky and gently subdued, when balanced with the smooth, downy vocals of back-up singers The Sweet Inspirations. The album’s also got “son of a preacher man,” easily her most well-known tune and arguably the highlight of her career. “In the land of make believe” finds Dusty treading fairly familiar waters, cooing softly through the sitar-flavored Burt Bacharach composition. Starting slow and building to a string-laden, orchestral conclusion, “the windmills of your mind” is very theatrical and textured with flamenco guitar while “don’t forget about me,” a Goffin/King-penned song, threatens to bring the house down. On it, the band bides its time before charging ahead in full-tilt, brass glory as Dusty, sounding loose and confident, sets aside her reservations and turns the song into a sweaty, uninhibited affair. A CD reissue includes some bonus tracks, one of which, “Willie & Laura Mae Jones,” is so damn good that it begs the question: why was it scrapped in the first place? Dusty gets down as she sings about cotton fields, barbecue, and living in a shack while Reggie Young of The Memphis Cats contributes some deft blues guitar. The album ends with “I can’t make it alone,” a fitting song when taking into account that this album was somewhat of a leap of faith and an effort to connect with new audiences and reinvigorate her foundering career in the US. But despite the hard work put into it, the record barely charted. I imagine though, that it did boost her credibility among her musical peers.