{"id":1621,"date":"2008-08-11T12:25:20","date_gmt":"2008-08-11T16:25:20","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2008-12-17T11:41:13","modified_gmt":"2008-12-17T11:41:13","slug":"isaac-hayes-i-thank-you","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rocktownhall.com\/blogs\/isaac-hayes-i-thank-you\/","title":{"rendered":"Isaac Hayes, I Thank You"},"content":{"rendered":"
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It’s funny how we sometimes get introduced to Great things in very pedestrian ways. When I was about 14, somebody played me the first Blues Brothers<\/strong> album. That was the first time I ever heard any music written by Isaac Hayes<\/strong> — in this case, “Soul Man” — and, even in that watered-down form, it blew my mind. My best friend eventually discovered that the original was performed by Sam & Dave<\/strong>, and we went on a furious, pre-Internet scavenger hunt for something, anything, by that duo. (This was especially hard to do because, a.) we were 14 and didn’t know shit about anything; and b.) I was living in Central America at the time.) At last, a trip to the Panama Canal Zone post exchange yielded what I was looking for: a copy of Sam & Dave’s greatest hits, and I was smitten.<\/p>\n

As I got older and nerdier about these things, I learned that — as talented as Sam & Dave and the Stax house band were — the real magic in those grooves was the result of an amazing compositional team: Isaac Hayes and David Porter<\/strong>. As I explored their work in the context of everything else that came out of the Stax factory, I realized that — as outrageous as this sounds — those guys didn’t write *one* bad song. Not one. It was all gold. Honest to God, those guys had a batting average better than anybody’s. Better than the Beatles, people!<\/p>\n

So Isaac Hayes, at just 65 years of age, is now gone. In trying to write a fitting epitaph for a man I believe to be one of the greatest composers in the history of American popular music, I feel tempted to chronicle his rise from the mean streets of Memphis to global mega-stardom (because his story is a truly compelling one) — but really, that stuff doesn’t mean shit to me, now that he’s dead. What matters to me, obviously, is the man’s music. Like James Brown, or Stevie Wonder, or Duke Ellington, he was a driving force behind a deep transformation in Black popular music, introducing sophisticated, moving (but still funky) chords, riffs and arrangements into a form — in his case, southern Black music targeted at southern Black audiences — that had become paralyzed by the success of soul numbers featuring three chords and time-worn, threadbare melodies.<\/p>\n

And speaking of being paralyzed: I have spent the last hour trying in vain to pick the right group of songs to showcase this man’s particular genius. Like so many other great pop composers, you’ve already heard some of his best work: “Soul Man,” “Hold On, I’m Coming,” “I Thank You,” “B-A-B-Y,” and literally dozens more that made it to the pop charts. But even the outstanding obscurities are too numerous to feature here. I mean, where do I start? The guy wrote more than 100 songs during his stint with David Porter at Stax, and they’re all good! And what should I encourage you to listen for? The arrangements and production touches? The sophisticated melodies and counter-melodies? The deep, righteous groove that permeates everything he wrote in the 60s? I’m truly at a loss here. A great loss. We all are. Isaac Hayes, I thank you. We all thank you. You were amazing.<\/p>\n

HVB<\/p>\n

Tell you what — let’s do this New Orleans-style. First, the sad, mournful farewell:<\/p>\n

“If I Ever Needed Love”<\/a>, Ruby Johnson<\/p>\n

Then, the joyous affirmation that one of these days we’ll all be together in the great beyond:<\/p>