Mojo - The Music Magazine

In 1985 I was a punk-a-be from the middle of Ohio whose LP collection ran the gamut from Ramones to Black Flag with the ultimate Midwest wannabe punks The Replacements in between. The closest I got to "soul" was a copy of Electric Warrior. But I fancied myself into all types of music, mainly because I read a lot of music mags. One now-defunct organ was Musician, which was better than most and reviewed all sorts of music and audiophile gear. And it just so happened that in the issue they reviewed the 'Mats latest opus, Let it Be, it was next to a review for a "long-lost live record" by some old dead guy I knew my dad sang along to in the car. His name was Sam Cooke. Oh, I knew You Send Me and Chain Gang from AM radio but I just knew he was one of those overproduced pretty-voiced pop singers I was so against.

I was bored and read the review anyway and something about it stuck with me, probably because I was getting into bootlegs and this kinda read like an old bootleg someone had cleaned up for release. Well, for whatever reason, about a week or so later I got my allowance and went to Record Bar (seriously, that was what my mall's record store was called) to go pick up the 'Mats brand new masterpiece. But even then and to this day I can't just buy one album; it's two or more or I'm out the door, musicless. Well, damned if that old dead guy's album wasn't right next to the front with all the other "new releases", so instead of going home without Westerberg and the Stinson bros' latest I picked up the "rescued from the vault, newly remastered, soul find of the last 20 years...". The high-school hipster behind the counter gave me nodded approval about The Replacements disc but looked leerily at Sam. I mumbled about "grandma's birthday" or something and I was OK in his eyes again.

So 11 o'clock on a school night finds me in bed with those headphones they made back then that covered your ears, half your cheeks and the entire back of your skull. No matter, thought I, this Sam Cooke record will put me out in no time. Then someone I swore was standing in my room started telling me to give it up for "Mr Soul! Sam Cooke!" This band kicked in, hard, rough, but tight, so damned tight! And this voice came in, like it was just one more instrument, just a better-sounding horn or something. Oh I knew the voice, that voice is unmistakable even to some ignorant 15-year-old asshole who knows better about everything than anyone older than 20 or 21 cuz they can get beer. His voice sounded like he'd had a whiskey or three and maybe that many women right before he stepped out there; it was still smooth, just like you could tell he was, but had a smoky edge to it that I never heard before. He was in control of every little thing: every note, every ad-lib, total control of his backing band. Even when he changes things up they're right behind him like troops following a General like Patton; they know Sam is gonna keep them safe and get them back home.

But the biggest player is the audience. They are so choreographed in their parts that they know when to shake the rafters, when to shut up but most important, they know when to swoon. For 40 minutes I was transfixed. I realised then I was smiling, beaming like it was Christmas and I got my teenage smoking hot girlfriend under the tree naked with a bow that said "from mom and dad, have fun". And then I noticed I was dancing in my bed, my feet and legs shaking all over. "My God!" my ignorant 15-year-old thoughts hit me, "you can be a normal straight white punk asshole but you can DANCE too!" This album changed what I thought about EVERYTHING that I knew, a lot of it about music, and if you think that's nothing I dare you to get into a teenager about the music they listen to.

Two last quick things. If you think you won't like this because you don't like soul/hip-hop etc... don't worry; this has more to do with rock like Springsteen than Lil Jon, but if you love rap/hip-hop etc. then this is where it started. And finally, if your last excuse is that you hate live albums, join the club. I abhor live albums - since 1955 up to now maybe three are worth listening to more than once. But I've been playing this for people for 25 years and everyone who's heard it has searched out their own copy. All of them.