Issac Hayes

What's WRONG? At CLUB DEAD, the bell tolls for Issac Hayes, a/k/a/ South Park's Chef a/k/a Soul Music's Hot Buttered Icon, dying of an apparent stroke after a session on the treadmill. How could one man have so many cool points? Easy. That cat Issac is a bad motherSHUT YOUR MOUTH

Issac Hayes. His definitive LP also bore one of his nicknames, Hot Buttered Soul. You could almost play a game of free association with his name. Memphis, Stax, Shaft, Hot Buttered Soul, chains(no not 'bling.' Doesn't sound cool enough.) the bald head, the knowing smile, and the voice. It was the voice, and the attitude, that introduced the South Park generation to Issac Hayes. And to those who know only Chef, there's a world of (as Chef might say) hot pulsating music ready to envelop you.

Barry White was the only other person considered, but in the end, Issac Hayes was the perfect choice to be Chef. His musical gift, and his unbelievably complex verbal skills (in addition to his singing talent, he had become a popular radio d.j. in New York City in recent years) gave him the right attitude for the frienly ladle-wielding keeper of the lunchroom at South Park Elementary (I mean come on...we all know Chef really ran the school.)

Thousands will be eulogizing Chef. I'm going to talk about Issac. And to do that, I'm going to talk about Soul. Soul is more than an antiquated term for African-American R&B songs. Soul was an essential element to surviving the sixties... no exaggeration intended. As riots erupted and city after city burned during the long, tense summers, soul became code for survival. As Americans, we became keely aware that just having a good heart and following along with "the way things are" wasn't going to cut it any more.

Soul came to sybolize the new birth of emancipation. To have soul was to have understanding, and empathy for the struggle which could no longer inch along at the pace of the status quo. To be known as having soul was to be venerated as part the new America. To be a Soul Brother or Soul Sister meant that you shared trust, accceptance, and the sober truth that our country was thrashing and kicking as it was finally being held accountable to our daring idea that everone is created equal.

It was spirtual protection, sometimes literal protection... and you damn well better take note of the new order. Dotted across the landscape that summer, I saw many businesses and homes with the words "Soul Brother" proudly displayed, Sometimes it was desperately displayed, as if to say "I sympathize. Please don't burn my store."

These were serious days, and a young boy trying to understand why there was such anger, and such revolution in the wind, looked for answers. My best friend's mother worked at the neighborhood Kroger, and she had been given the honor/task of painting "Soul Brother" over the store's boarded up windows, which were covered for fear they'd be broken. I guess they were just covering any eventuality.

So, "soul" was not a concept to be idly tossed around. It was a badge, a mantra, a statement of who we were, what we stood for, and (most important) what we would no longer stand for. The questions became unavoidable. Like most of my generation, I came to ask them all. I would ask anyone who would answer, or anyone who would even listen. I would ask them at a young age...maybe too young to properly grasp the depth of the feelings. The answers to those questions told me a lot about who I was, who we were as the flower power generation, and where we stood as Americans.

In a nutshell, we found the answers. We survived, and we embraced the changes. And thank God we did.

Issac Hayes was one of those who led the way. As with so many social changes, the culture molded to the message of the entertainers. Soul was cool; soul was right, No one was cooler or righter than Issac Hayes.

We could still be startled though. When Shaft was released in July 1971, it captivated the nation. Some people noticed Richard Roundtree in the title role of a detective hired to find a mobster's daughter. Some others worried about the violence, and the term "blaxpliotation" would soon come into being.

But everyone was buzzing about the song. We'd not heard anything like it before. That three-note bass line, dropping a momentary octave after each triplet, the brass adding layer upon layer of stacotta riffs, climaxing with a question unlike any heard on the radio before:

"Who's the black private dick who's a sex machine to all the chicks?"

"Shaft" came the response. And in 1971, most of us couldn't get away with saying "..they say this cat Shaft is a bad mother(SHUT YOUR MOUTH)." Issac Hayes could. And he kept producing music unlike anyone else's. Wonder what he was listening to on that treadmill, seconds before his time ran out.

I'll bet it had soul. Hell, if Issac Hayes was around it, it had soul.

On the other hand, screw him; he's dead. Let's go look for crocodiles.

StevenK

 

Bernie Mack

What's WRONG?At CLUB DEAD, the bell tolls for Bernie Mack, actor and comedian. WTF? He's just now starting to make it.Where the hell's Mr. Jordan? It couldn't have been his time yet!

When I saw the photo of Bernie Mack on the screen, I assumed it was some publicity blurb for Ocean's Thirty-six or wherever they are now. Sadly, the story it told was one of a crying family, a weak heart, and a gruff but gentle giant with a shell more fragile than anyone could tell.

He seemed so young. Hell, he was young, at least in terms of dying. Pneumonia's not supposed to kill you... not nowadays. His family had come to realize that his pneumonia was more serious than first thought. Drag out all the cliches about God wanting to laugh, and we never know when the curtain will fall, and he's in a better place, catching Lenny Bruce and Henny Youngman's new act. By now, he'll have checked out Redd Foxx and Richard Pryor's new material. All those things we always say "out of respect" when what we're really doing is making ourselves feel better.

(Some other time, dear reader, we'll ponder if he really would have done those things that quickly. I mean, if it takes an hour and a half to change license plates, it might be logical to expect eternal judgement to take more than a few minutes. God surely doesn't seek to administer justice faster than a Mexican court.)

Bernie Mac seemed to be genuine. Some Hollywood people just look phony. You couldn't imagine ever seeing them on the Mary-Tekoppel bus, or running into then having a cup of coffee at Donut Bank. Not so with him. I could imagine Bernie knocking on his neighbor's door, asking to borrow a ratchet; or bragging that he made it straight home from work without stopping for a single orange barrel.

Maybe a bit of pomposity, just the right amount, sealed the mix. I wish we'd gotten to know him a little better.

On the other hand, screw him; he's dead. Let's go look for crocodiles.

StevenK

Skip Caray

What's WRONG? At CLUB DEAD, the bell tolls for Skip Caray. Caray, Atlanta Braves broadcaster for 33 years, dies in his sleep at 68. The South loses another broadcasting legend. And the American sprit loses another link to the days before baseball became just another string of digits on some corporate ledger sheet.

I can't say I know a lot about Skip Caray, apart from his royal parentage: son of Harry, father of Chip. I am impressed by the almost universal outporing of love and admiration from his peers. He must have been a remarkable person to inspire such devotion.

And there were the stories you didn't hear. In this age, every parking ticket is fodder for the talk shows. If we're allowed to judge someone by a lack of baggage, then Skip Caray passes with flying colors.

He was direct and on point. No razzle-dazzle announcer games required. Forget the lights and sound effects. He broadcast the game. It was the star. He was helping bring the pagaentry without becoming a member of the performing company.

Skip Caray began broadasting for the Braves a million years ago. Okay, it just seems that long ago. Cue the flowing harp sfx indicating memories of another time. It was less than a year after Hank Aaron passed Babe Ruth as baseball's home run king, and just a few months after President Nixon resigned from office rather than face impeachment proceedings. Gas was fifty cents a gallon then, and Skip Caray was there.

He was there in satellite TV's infancy when thanks to WTBS, the Braves became America's team. For a great many Braves fans, he's been there their whole life. He's all they've ever known.

And another piece of history passes from us.

Storytelling has always been the hallmark of the well-seasoned Southerner. So from Dizzy Dean, with his Arkansas wit, and Tennessee native Russ Hodges ("The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!") until today, the South has been blessed with an abundance of great sports broadcasters. John Ward (Tennessee) and Cawood Ledford (Kentucky) come to mind at once, as does Woody Durham (North Carolina) and Bob Harris (Duke).

Mel Allen grew up in Alabama and spent time calling Alabama football before joing the New York Yankees for a long and stellar career. Eli Gold hails from Brooklyn, but had enough sense to come be the voice of the Alabama Crimson Tide and NASCAR's Motor Racing Network.

Folks in Georgia are fortunate: They still have Larry Munson to enjoy, although his health is such that he only broadcasts home games now.

Skip Carey honored his father Harry by the way he lived his life. He never depended on his father's name but he always treasured it. Now his own son Chip carries on the Atlanta Braves family tradition. Stat geeks probably already know that they are the only three generation broadcasters to work the same game. Actually, they they did it twice, one in baseball and once in basketball. That's nice way to build a legacy.

On the other had, screw him; he's dead. Let's go look for crocodiles.

StevenK

Dan Fogelberg

What's WRONG? At CLUB DEAD, the bell tolls for Dan Fogelberg, a/k/a/ the Captured Angel. Back here, he's going to be remebered mainly for his time as a balladeer of woosy love songs. That sucks more than any of his songs ever did.

Yes, you're in the right place, rock dogs. This is coming from a guy who rocks out every night to Led Zeppelin, Skynyrd, Van Halen, AC/DC. You might wonder why I'd even note the passing of Dan Fogelberg. It's a simple answer. I adored Dan Fogelberg. This is no "guilty pleasure" confessional.Before he sang his pop songs, Dan Fogelberg ranked high on the list of things cool.

The pop culture attention span being what it is, Dan Fogelberg will doubtless be rembered as

• The guy who did that song about meeting his old girlfriend in the store on Christmas
  
• The guy who did that song about his father the bandleader
  
• The guy who did that song about the horse in the Kentucky Derby
  

Oh there's so much more. Dan Fogelberg wove the soundtrack to no small part of my life, and of my circle of friends.

My college and early married years were entwined with his early career. Even today, hearing "Illinois" or "There's A Place in the World for a Gambler" or that whole delicate side of "Netherlands" brings forth all the thoughts and memories of that time. That music was ribbed with passion. filled with angelic harmonies, lonesome echoes and the anticipation of what could be just beyond the horizon.

Forgive for drifting into seventies-speak. Yes, kids we really did used to think that way.. start each day with a warm smile. Discover what magic the morning sky would hold today...yeah, hold hands and sing Kumbaya. and hopefully wake up naked next to someone.

Fogelberg was not 'rock your way through the day' music. He was for contemplation, after class, after work, after a date that somehow ended at 9:30. You'd not play him at a party, except really late. That's when one of the real benefits of his work became evident. Women who liked his music were attracted to splendor and intensity... and were more generous in their passion.

Later in his career, as his popped out hit after hit for soft rock radio, Dan Fogelberg became embedded with the "sad ballad" tag. Eventually, his "Lite-FM" persona overtook whatever cool points he earned early on.

Much like Billy Joel, the popular perception of Fogelberg came to be shaped more by his radio hits than his early, less mainstream music.Looks like the secret got out. He became a staple of the early 80's, and enjoyed great commercial success.

Well, good for him. I'm happy. How can I begrudge someone the success that springs from his hard work. I'm also grateful to return to college in my mind for a few minutes. Dan Fogelberg will always be a big part of those years, as will the feelings his music evoked.

Then again, screw him, he's dead. Let's go look for crocodiles.

StevenK