ARETHA FRANKLIN: THE ONCE & FUTURE QUEEN

ARETHA FRANKLIN: THE ONCE & FUTURE QUEEN

VERNON GIBBS

I imagine that at some point in her career, Aretha Franklin may have wanted to wring the neck of the writer or publicist who first dubbed her the "Queen of Soul." When all is well in the kingdom, I'm sure that the burdens of regal stewardship are at least bearable. But there is also the saying, "uneasy lies the head that wears the crown." With all kinds of pretenders making their claim since about 1975, and with the trauma that must have come as other Queens (of Disco, of Funk) tried to set up their tents in her backyard, only true royalty could have come through into the '80s as strong as ever, and I'm sure there were times she must have wondered if the robes were made of silk or sack-cloth.

But 1983 finds her back up where she belongs, at # 1 with a bullet, which is where 1982 also found her. Her latest hit, "Do It Right," is her second #1 R&B hit in as many years, and if pop radio is really ready for some "new" music, they should give this one more support than they did "Jump To It"—even if the new music is coming from a not so new Queen. Aretha in 1983 is singing with the same unfettered gusto she did in 1967, and while the term "soul" may no longer be in vogue, an adequate replacement has never been found and there really is no other way to describe what Aretha does.

singers with more chart consistency and higher media profiles. Donna Summer immediately comes to mind, but she may never be quite forgiven for riding in on the disco tide. Certainly Donna did nothing to encourage her crowning as the Disco Diva, but she did nothing to discourage it either, even though she was (and still is) a righteous churchgoing woman just like Aretha. Anyway, when the zillions start to pile up in the bank, who's going to quibble about semantics? I don't know what church Diana Ross may have attended in her skinny teenage days, but even though, like Summer, she may have sometimes looked more like a queen than Aretha, the Kingdom of Soul was never intended to be the domain of mere weight watchers. Admittedly Diana Ross is no lightweight when it comes to her track record as both a Supreme and a solo singer (which she was with the Supes anyway), but could you ever look at yourself in the mirror again if you called her "soulful"?

The concept of soul may no longer matter in the '80s, but Aretha is eternal. We've become quite used to singers with all the emotion of R2-D2—in fact it seems there must be a school in England where all the so called "new music" singers have to go in order to sound like third rate imitations of David Bowie on a bad day—but Aretha's capacity to create involuntary chills is as relevant as it ever was.

Her comeback in the '80s started when she was teamed with producer/songwriter Luther Vandross after her first two albums for her new label, Arista, didn't achieve the desired affect. Vandross stripped away the production sheath that other producers had over-indulged themselves with, and let Aretha's power fly over his churning synthbass lines. Though the synthesized bass may be the biggest production cliche of the '80s, in the hands of a tasteful producer and an adept songwriter like Vandross it became a weapon to convince anyone who may have doubted that Aretha is still "contemporary."

Aretha's first ascendancy began back in 1967 when she went back to doing what she had always done best, singing with the unbridled passion she had learned back in Detroit. Her father was one of that city's best known ministers, and long before she was in her teens, Aretha was already a local legend. But for some reason, when John Hammond, Sr. signed her to Columbia Records, they took her in the wrong direction and tried to make her a jazz singer of the Nancy Wilson variety. In the meantime, back in Detroit, Berry Gordy was taking those same church rhythms that Aretha had discarded, and building an empire. When she finally left Columbia for Atlantic, it was because she fully intended to go back to her "roots" and Atlantic had been among the most consistent of the major labels in getting hits on "roots" oriented artists. In addition to Solomon Burke, Ben E. King, Don Covay, Wilson Pickett, Joe Tex, Percy Sledge and Ray Charles, Atlantic had an executive in Jerry Wexler who was well known in the business for his ability to get pop hits out of roots artists.

Aretha may not have intended to be crowned Queen, but that's what happened. In retrospect it seems almost immediate—but I'm sure it took at least two years. The first album contained, "I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You)," "Respect" and "Dr. Feelgood," songs that the public still demands in concert. "Love A Man" was the first release, and within two weeks it was a smash. The album had been recorded in five days, and most of the songs were built around Aretha's piano arrangements. The second album contained "Chain Of Fools" and "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman." "Fools" became one of the biggest singles in Atlantic's history, and word is that is still sells.

It's been said that Aretha never quite matched the raw power of those first two Atlantic albums. While it's true that in 1967 and 1968 recording technology was at the perfect stage for the emergence of an artist like Aretha—where it wasn't too primitive to mask her true abilities nor so sophisticated (as it became with each year after 1968) that the technique of getting the perfect drum sound became almost as important as getting the artists' feelings on tape—I think that every time Aretha opens her mouth, it's reason enough for mortals to rejoice.

In 1976 Curtis Mayfield wrote and produced the best middle period Aretha single, "Giving Him Something He Can Feel." The title says it all. With the new life she's gotten from Luther Vandross, it appears that Aretha's career will be extended for a long time—so she can keep giving us plenty we can feel.