Like most people of my generation, I hadn’t heard of Solomon Burke until I was about 13. Compared to the 80s pop that surrounded me, "Cry to Me" was absolutely electrifying. I sought out more of his music on cassette (that was the dominant format at the time). I found it was unavailable, but I didn't stop looking. I did buy records at the time but I could pretty much forget about finding any Solomon Burke vinyl in Minnesota in those days. A few years later I was able to get a CD “The Best of Solomon Burke” or something, but it only contained early 70s religious recordings. It seemed I was never going to be able to find the recordings I wanted so desperately to hear.
Finally, purely by accident, I learned in conversation with my aunt & uncle from the Bay Area that they were huge Solomon Burke fans. They had gone to see him live numerous times and were eager to preach about the king and all his glory. After they made me a tape of their Solomon Burke LP, I was finally able to hear more music from his golden era. Lets just say, the wait was well worth it. I can still remember my reaction to hearing those songs for the first time. The production + vocal = PURE EXCITEMENT. The heavens opened up and I realized exactly how GOOD music really can be. In fact, to this day, when I listen to those early 60s recordings, it's as if I'm hearing the music of the gods for the first time. They never get old, never lose their power.
I had the honor of interviewing Solomon not once but TWICE; first in the mid-90s and second in the early 2000s. He was promoting CD releases. You see, the easiest way to get interviews in radioland is during a promotional cycle. When an artist has a project they want to promote they make themselves available for interviews. In the early days of my radio show I had my nose to the ground actively sniffing out excuses to interview the legends of soul. It was my mission to be a champion of the music, to help the survivors of soul have their stories heard. I was driven. In the days before the internet explosion, I was determined to sing for the unsung heroes.
The first time I interviewed Dr. Burke, he was sort of floundering in obscurity. He had a relatively small following in California due to his frequent live shows, but on a larger scale he was generally forgotten and fighting his way back. That was a common situation for the soul pioneers at that time. In fact, I suppose it still is.
In the 1980s after the audience for traditional soul and R&B music had mostly dried up, former stars of soul had fewer and fewer opportunities to reach a wide audience. Some, like Johnnie Taylor and Bobby Blue Bland, continued to try to remain "current" in their sound and found success in regional markets particularly in the south. Others who stayed true to the traditional soul sound of the 1960s became categorized as "blues" by the music & radio industry.
During the 80s the national "blues industry" became increasingly dominated by public radio. Unfortunately, the door was only open to a handful of classic soul and r&b artists at any one time. Etta James, Irma Thomas. Ruth Brown, Johnny Adams and Otis Clay are some of the artists who found some success in the “blues market”. If you were someone who only paid attention to what was spoon-fed to you by the industry, you might have thought that all of the rest of the classic soul artists had retired and faded away. On the contrary, there were many folks fighting to regain some of their past glory. Solomon Burke was one of them.
Strangely, the 1990s were kind of a cool time to be trying to interview former stars of soul. Soul was at an all time low in terms of appreciation in the USA (it still had attention over seas). The classic artists were really grateful to be remembered, let alone be interviewed for airtime (even if it was on a dinky community radio station). People were generally very eager to talk.
King Solomon was the second artist I had interviewed (Ruth Brown was the first) and I was deeply nervous. Not only was he a legend through his music, but there were loads of stories circulating about his self-promotional and entrepreneurial antics during the 60s. There was a good chance, in my mind, that this guy would crush a young radio novice like me.
Instead, he was incredibly gracious and totally put me at ease. He was suave - The smoothest man I've ever met. Using only his voice he made me feel like the most important person in his world, at least for those moments we spoke. The man was a professional, the likes of which we simply don't see these days.
During that first interview I asked a lot of basic questions. I really didn't know much about interviewing yet. I'm sure I asked him the same questions that everyone else had asked him a million times. It's embarrassing to think about it in retrospect, but it makes me appreciate him all the more because he was totally gracious about it.
Our second interview took place right before his "big comeback" on Fat Possum (released in 2002). He was promoting the Sundazed reissue of his late 60s recordings. He talked about that release and the woman who produced those recordings, Tamiko Jones. That was cool enough, but the big news revealed in the interview was that he had been approached by Fat Possum about recording an album. I was pretty thrilled for him, though I could tell he didn't really understand exactly what Fat Possum could do for him. I got the impression that, to him, Fat Possum was just another blues label that was willing to take a crack at launching him into a comeback. I knew better. I knew that Fat Possum would deliver. They would deliver King Solomon, thrown and all, directly to the "hip" college market as well as NPR and Triple A radio. In other words, all of his years of struggling to regain popularity was just about to pay off.
How lucky I was to speak to him right on the cusp of that. What joy to know that someone whose music essentially changed my life, was about to finally get some dues. And along with that I was able to ask him some real questions. He talked about the assassination of MLK and how it affected his music. He talked about being with Sam Cooke right before he was murdered- a conversation that brought both of us to tears. And by the end of that discussion I felt that we were friends. Once again, proving that Solomon Burke was a master of show business.
And so today, as I mourn the loss of one of my greatest heroes, I actually feel lucky. How often do we get a chance to talk to our heroes and ask them everything we ever wanted to know? How often do we get to do that twice?
I think that the best way I can honor his memory is to follow his example. So, my promise to The King of Rock 'n' Soul is this: During times of struggle, when obstacles seem insurmountable, I will think of you and your endless perseverance. I will not give up. I will push on...hopefully with style and grace. Thanks King Solomon. I will miss you.
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