Dearest Darling Etta

On Friday Jan. 20, Etta James and Johnny Otis died. For those of you who know and love American rhythm and blues, and even for those who don’t, in the 1950s Etta James, Johnny Otis and Little Richard were part of the rhythm and blues movement of post-World War II America from which 20th and 21st century rock and roll was born. Born January 25, 1938 she would have been 74 this Wednesday.

Etta’s voice was always charged with an intelligence and an electrifyingly witty soulfulness. Her phrasing was everything. She was sophisticated and searing, my kind of Aquarian girl. The art of soul is distinctively American — rich and full of a variety of influences and painful history. “I Just Want to Make Love to You,” “All I Need” and “Tell Mama” were songs I remember growing up with, and as do so many others of us who came of age in the 1960s as well.

Etta opened for the Rolling Stones and accompanied Jerry Garcia. You could hear strains of her in the wails of Janis Joplin who was a great fan of hers. So too was Diana Ross, Bonnie Raitt, Rod Stewart and Amy Winehouse. She was the mother of rock and roll: recognized, honored and yet, oftentimes forgotten. Though a few of her pieces hit the mainstream, particularly “At Last,” she was never truly recognized as a major mainstream artist.

Not that it matters in the long run. Everyone I’ve met today, from different cultures and all walks of life, have taken the news of Etta James’ death personally. We’re feeling a loss of not just a cherished fixture of our American culture, but also a regret for a musician we could have heard at least one more time, songs we could have appreciated more than just for their popular culture recognition or background music for a television commercial about junk food. Etta, we didn’t know you enough.

Her passing may yet give us a chance to pause and an opportunity to recognize the seeds she planted in the gardens of music. Seeds that have formed deep roots around the world, especially when you’re talking about essential rock and roll and its raw sensuality, the power of a woman’s heart, and intelligence flowing through the notes clear and bright as day. Her music was edgy, rough around the edges, sexy, wrenching and bold. If there was a flow to Etta, it was from a power line six inches thick that could energize an entire city.

That she and the man who discovered her — Johnny Otis — died on the same day makes me believe some kind of contract was signed long before they met or even knew of each others’ existence. Someday, there may yet be more to come.

A few weeks ago I wrote to say goodbye and give a fond remembrance to Cesaria Evora, a musician whose voice brought the world to her island country of Cape Verde. Normally I’m not here to write obituaries for Planet Waves, but to write about politics, art and culture, and lately and particularly about music, which is one of our planet’s greatest gifts to the cosmos.

Today, instead of a focus on her passing, I want to focus on remembering this Aquarian queen, Etta James, the godmother of modern music. I say today, Hail Hail and happy birthday to dearest darling Etta. Sing like you always do girl, all the way up to the rafters of the stars.

And let’s dance!