It was a clear day. Steely Dan was playing “Hey Nineteen” in my head. I heard Donald Fagen deliver the eye-opening line to the song’s uninformed subject, the line that leads him to realize that he’s growing old and losing touch.
“She don’t remember the Queen of Soul.”
Thinking for a minute, something dawned on me: I don’t own any Aretha Franklin records. Though the generation gap between me and those who were around when She (that’s right, I’m capitalizing it) was releasing genre-defining records is large enough to excuse my negligence, I was embarrassed all the same.
Aretha Franklin is royalty. She is an institution. Her pipes are some of the most famous in music history, at once earth-shaking and spine-tingling, comforting and uplifting, able to leap naturally from breathy delicacy to gale-force power.
Her gift might be most evident on “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You).” The warm tone of Her voice nestles in producer Jerry Wexler’s arrangement, concealing the ticking time-bomb of soul power waiting to overheat and explode from Her chest.
“Call Me” features a somewhat meek, passive coo that slowly morphs into a pleading but controlled holler that demands a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Franklin’s command of Her range is exemplary. She has an uncanny ability to let Her robust voice seep in and connect to your subconscious, even when She’s really setting it loose. Just try and stave off the tingles around the three-minute mark of “Ain’t No Way;” there really er, ain’t no way.
Her version of “I Say A Little Prayer” is much more affecting than Dionne Warwick’s. The melisma that so often bogs down other singers’ attempts to prove their talent is used sparingly by Franklin, adding more texture and emphasis. Even when Her voice reaches the point where the power of other singers’ voices peak, you can tell She could go further, She’s got power to spare. What’s more, it all sounds natural. Nothing that comes out of Her mouth sounds forced or overly rehearsed.
She is truly a living legend, as Her track record makes clear: twenty number 1 singles over twenty years, seventeen Grammies and an induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. More than those quantifiable things are the lasting impressions She’s left on culture and music--an enduring legacy, bound to live on in the hearts, ears and voices of generations to come. Indeed, Fagen was on to something. Impossible to forget, I’ll always “remember the Queen of Soul.”
“Call Me” features a somewhat meek, passive coo that slowly morphs into a pleading but controlled holler that demands a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Franklin’s command of Her range is exemplary. She has an uncanny ability to let Her robust voice seep in and connect to your subconscious, even when She’s really setting it loose. Just try and stave off the tingles around the three-minute mark of “Ain’t No Way;” there really er, ain’t no way.
Her version of “I Say A Little Prayer” is much more affecting than Dionne Warwick’s. The melisma that so often bogs down other singers’ attempts to prove their talent is used sparingly by Franklin, adding more texture and emphasis. Even when Her voice reaches the point where the power of other singers’ voices peak, you can tell She could go further, She’s got power to spare. What’s more, it all sounds natural. Nothing that comes out of Her mouth sounds forced or overly rehearsed.
She is truly a living legend, as Her track record makes clear: twenty number 1 singles over twenty years, seventeen Grammies and an induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. More than those quantifiable things are the lasting impressions She’s left on culture and music--an enduring legacy, bound to live on in the hearts, ears and voices of generations to come. Indeed, Fagen was on to something. Impossible to forget, I’ll always “remember the Queen of Soul.”
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