by David Ritz
“Poor sales never bother Aretha,” Earline told me. “She’ll tell you that the record was really a big hit but the distributor, wanting to hide her royalties, is giving out false figures. Or she’ll simply ignore the failure and move on to the next thing. Because Aretha is who she is—one of the great personalities in all American culture—the next thing keeps getting bigger and bigger. And in 2009, nothing was bigger than the inauguration of the first black president in American history.”
38. A WOMAN FALLING OUT OF LOVE
Given her unchallenged status as a singer of historic importance and as the artist whose “Respect” resonated with the generation who broke through the barriers of racial discrimination, Aretha was, unsurprisingly, invited to sing at the inauguration of Barack Obama on January 20, 2009. In answer to the first question any woman receiving such an invitation would ask herself—What am I going to wear?—she surprised her critics, who have often accused her of garish taste. She chose a tasteful gray outfit topped off by a gray felt hat that became the day’s most discussed fashion item. After perusing the websites of Europe’s storied designers, Aretha found the perfect hat in Detroit. Its creator, Luke Song, a thirty-six-year-old born in Seoul, Korea, had built a reputation among the city’s highly discriminating African American church ladies. The chapeau is built around an oversize gray bow tilted on its side.
Writing about her fashion choice for Newsweek, Aretha observed, “They had to work on it a little bit, because I wanted it edged in tiny rhinestones. And the bow was on the left side, but I wanted it on the right. I have a favorite side… the right. I just think it photographs better. The mistake I made was that I was looking at famous designers worldwide for something that ended up being right down the street.”
The story was seen as another victory for downtrodden Detroit, a city that over the years Aretha had championed with relentless loyalty.
That freezing day in January she received higher marks for fashion than singing. In talking to the women on The View, she said she was displeased with her performance—“It was just too cold out there to sing,” she said. When, four years later at Obama’s second inauguration, Beyoncé caused a minor stir by lip-synching, Aretha was understanding, remarking, “I thought it was really funny, but she did a beautiful job with the pre-record… next time I’ll probably do the same.”
That winter, while promoting her Christmas album and discussing her upcoming new pop record, A Woman Falling Out of Love, she granted a series of interviews, including one to Rashod Ollison, entertainment writer for the Virginian-Pilot and an astute music critic. As Aretha approached her sixty-eighth birthday, I asked Ollison to explain his feelings about her.
“Besides my mother’s, Aretha’s voice is among the first I remember hearing,” he wrote me. “My parents played her records constantly. The authority of her sound, especially in the way she sang gospel, anchored me. It still does. There are never any traces of self-pity in Aretha’s music, even when the song is sad and she’s pleading for a man’s return. She always communicated a sense of transcendence, something she learned from the church, of course, but also from the salty blues of Dinah Washington.
“But in my interviews with her, and in the many I’ve read and seen on TV, Aretha’s aloofness and slight condescension were always off-putting. She came off as petty, too. The palpably insecure woman, obsessed with staying relevant despite her towering legacy, is so strikingly different from the indomitable persona she conveys in her music.
“As a culture critic, part of my job is peeling back the layers, scraping away the glitter that sometimes deludes and mystifies fans. Aretha is gloriously complex, a musical genius, and there seems to be a lot of intriguing darkness and mystery behind the legacy. That isn’t surprising.
“Like so many artists with such huge talent, there’s often a disconnect inside. Perhaps it’s necessary. Something within must remain childlike and wide-eyed in order for the art to be pure and adventurous. Who knows? But in Aretha’s case, especially in the last 20 years or so—maybe longer—there hasn’t been much adventure musically. [She] seems to be shoehorning her enormous gift into trite productions and trends. In concerts these days, she often coasts. It’s unreasonable to expect her to sound the way she did in 1967, or perform with the same vitality. (I must note that her contemporary Gladys Knight, whom Aretha has shaded many times in interviews, holds up amazingly well onstage these days, sounding almost the way she did in 1973, if not better.) Aretha’s lack of musical engagement onstage, exacerbated by the booming Vegas-style arrangements, never fails to disappoint.”
Aretha’s longtime booking agent, adviser, and friend Ruth Bowen died in May 2009. In my last interview with her, she said, “I love that girl and always will. Never did meet anyone who needed a mother as bad as Aretha did. And maybe, at least for a while, I served that role. But only a mother could put up with Aretha’s fits and changing moods. I couldn’t. And only a mother could love those cheesy shows she kept putting on. When she asked me what I thought, I couldn’t lie. I had to tell her, ‘Get a big-time producer. Get someone who knows how to stage a show. Quit trying to control everyone and everything. Quit trying to do all this shit by yourself. Admit your limitations. We all got ’em, even a genius like you.’ But everything I said fell on deaf ears. She didn’t want to hear it, and that’s why, for all the love between us, we kept falling out.”
That summer Aretha sang at both the Hollywood Bowl, where she paid tribute to Michael Jackson, whose recent death had shocked the world, and Radio City Music Hall. During these performances, she resorted to what Jerry Wexler used to call “over-souling”—too heavy on the melisma, overwrought emotionality, musicality overwhelmed by theatricality.
The year 2010 began quietly. She spent the winter in Detroit, drifting in and out of the studio. The recording of the Woman Falling Out of Love album was slow going. She took months to select songs and cultivate the tracks. She was still estranged from Clive Davis and determined to remain free of any major label. This time she would be not only her own producer, but her own record executive as well. No second opinions, no interference.
At one point she played a version of the record for executives from Rhino Records, the Warner division that controlled the Atlantic catalog and a logical candidate to distribute her album.
“The president of the label and I were called from LA,” said Cheryl Pawelski, then head of A&R for Rhino, “for a private meeting at the Trump International Hotel in New York. We were excited at the possibility of bringing out a new Aretha record. We waited downstairs in the lobby for quite a while before being ferried upstairs, where Aretha had an entire floor to herself. Her suite was sweltering. Apparently she doesn’t like air-conditioning. It was also filled with huge flower arrangements sent by Elton John and Mariah Carey for her recent birthday. She was quite cordial. As we listened to the record, she ate breakfast. I commented that the pianist on three of the tracks was superb and I suspected the player was Aretha herself. She was pleased that I had identified her correctly. As a whole, though, the record didn’t work for me. There were multiple producers and multiple genres. It was all over the map and far from remarkable. Naturally I didn’t express my opinion. Nor was my opinion sought. After the last track was played, we congratulated her, thanked her for her time, and left. When we learned that she was demanding an advance of a million dollars, we quickly passed. Even if the album had been great, the price would be high. But for a record as disconnected as this one, I felt the price was unrealistic.”
In July, Aretha appeared in Philadelphia along with, improbably enough, former secretary of state Condoleezza Rice, who had been trained as a concert pianist. Ms. Rice played various selections by Mozart, and, in closing the show, Aretha sang a medley of her hits.
That same summer she shot a humorous commercial for Snickers candy bar that played off her grand diva image. Of the four teenage boys riding in a car, two are ravenously hungry to the point that they transform into short-tempered divas, play
ed by Aretha and Liza Minnelli.
Then in the fall of 2010, everything changed. Aretha fell seriously ill. Excruciating stomach pain led her to cancel all engagements. Tests were conducted. Major surgery was required. In December, the National Enquirer ran a headline that said “Aretha Franklin, 6 Months to Live! Her Pancreatic Cancer Battle.” Later, Aretha denied any dire diagnosis while refusing to name the ailment.
Aretha had long lived with the contradictory attitude of wanting great attention while insisting on absolute privacy. At this point, her obsession for privacy overwhelmed everything else. She insisted that not a single word about the nature of her sickness be spoken by anyone close to her. She would not entertain one question regarding her malady. Beyond saying that she was sick, her handlers were forbidden to offer even the smallest detail. When cousin Brenda suggested that Aretha might go public with her diagnosis as a way to encourage others to seek treatment, she bristled. “You are confused,” she said. “There’s nothing that wrong with me.” Once again denial set in—this time stronger than ever.
“That’s just Aretha’s way,” said her sister-in-law Earline. “She’ll never change. It doesn’t matter that many public figures afflicted with physical diseases discuss it openly and use it as an opportunity to bring awareness of these maladies. Aretha reacts the opposite way. She shuts down completely. When she was dealing with alcohol in the sixties and seventies, she wouldn’t say a word about it. Same thing with her mysterious stomach ailments in 2010. I got the feeling that she felt if the facts about her sickness got out there, it would harm her career.”
“After her big operation that winter,” said niece Sabrina, “those closest to her spent an enormous amount of time in the hospital with her. She appreciated that—but then she didn’t. Once she got home, she became moodier than ever. If you inadvertently said the wrong word to her, she might turn on you and not speak to you for weeks. That was certainly the case with me and my cousin Brenda. She also turned on people who had worked with her for years. She was firing longtime employees for reasons no one understood. Naturally, after major surgery, you’re in a vulnerable emotional state. But with Aretha it was far more than that. It was as though she was chasing away the people who loved her most.”
“I’ve known Ree my entire life,” a longtime member of New Bethel, the church founded by Aretha’s father, told me. “When I read that article in the National Enquirer, I didn’t believe that cancer was going to kill her—not for a minute. If anyone’s strong enough to scare away cancer, it’s Aretha. If I were cancer, I wouldn’t mess with that girl. I’d get out of there.”
A month after the operation, Aretha’s resilience was in full evidence. She began a concentrated campaign to assure her public that she was healthy and would soon be ready to work.
Not surprisingly, her first interview was given to Jet, the always loyal weekly that spoke directly to the black community. In a January 2011 interview headlined “The Lord Will Bring Me Through,” Aretha sounded both determined and optimistic. She thanked her fans for their support and Stevie Wonder for being there when she emerged from surgery. She called the operation “highly successful.” “I feel great,” she said, adding, “I am putting Aretha first. We will put Ree together first. This is Aretha’s time to do whatever it is that I need to do.”
In February, looking dramatically thinner, she appeared in a videotape played after the Grammys honored her with a musical tribute by Jennifer Hudson, Christina Aguilera, Yolanda Adams, Florence Welch, and Christina McBride singing Aretha’s hits.
In March, she appeared on the cover of Jet. Dressed in a long pink chiffon gown adorned with strands of cultured pearls, the Queen was back in charge. The headline read “It’s a New Chapter in My Life.” She refused to discuss the nature of her illness or operation. She spoke of her new healthy diet and her weight loss of twenty-five pounds. Included were pictures of Aretha with her sons Eddie, Teddy, and Kecalf plus niece Sabrina Owens, cousin Brenda Corbett, and Willie Wilkerson.
Later that month Aretha invited Wendy Williams to Detroit, where the talk-show host conducted an interview, decorously referring to her as “Miss Franklin,” in a hotel dining room over high tea. Again avoiding all specifics about her health history, she joked about her former weight, saying, “I was just too fat for words.” But when Williams suggested that, like most women, Aretha could be gullible and “get stupid falling in love,” Aretha took umbrage, countering that Wendy might be gullible and get stupid, but not her. They went on to discuss possible casting for the biopic based on From These Roots. When Aretha suggested that Wendy help finance the film, the talk-show host backed off.
A Woman Falling Out of Love, after being rejected by Rhino, was released on May 1 under the banner of Aretha’s Records. According to Dick Alen, who was still advising Aretha on business and bookings, Walmart had advanced her the million dollars she had long sought. That gave the chain the exclusive right to sell the record in their stores and on their website for a full month before it was available on iTunes.
“Aretha got her wish,” said Alen. “She was in charge of virtually every aspect of the record. But unfortunately she wound up doing everything she could to mess up the deal. She delivered it months late and even then sent in a bad master that had to be redone. The record got no traction. The public ignored it, it didn’t sell, and that was virtually the end of the short, unhappy life of Aretha’s Records.”
Writing for Rolling Stone, Will Hermes offered one of the more generous reviews: “The good news is that Aretha Franklin, who just turned 69, is recording, and that her magnificent instrument, though thinning a bit, retains plenty of its power and agility.”
I loved her rendition of B.B. King’s “Sweet Sixteen,” a song, she told me, “that reminded me of teen years in Detroit when my father would go see B.B. in the clubs and play his records in our home. It felt great to get back to those blues.”
But the rest of the record is sadly lacking. There’s an unsatisfying mix of saccharine ballads: “The Way We Were,” a strained duet with Ron Isley; “Theme from a Summer’s Place”; and Aretha’s self-penned overwrought “How Long I’ve Been Waiting.” There’s lightweight gospel: “Faithful,” featuring Karen Clark Sheard, and “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” sung by her son Eddie. And there’s a bizarrely histrionic redo of “My Country ’Tis of Thee,” the anthem she sang at the 2008 inauguration of President Barack Obama.
On May 9, she gave her first concert since falling sick some eight months earlier. The venue was the Chicago Theater.
Attending the concert, I was struck by Aretha’s resurgent energy. She sang a blistering version of “Sweet Sixteen” that made the entire evening worthwhile. Her requisite medley of hits—“Ain’t No Way,” “Chain of Fools,” “Baby, I Love You”—felt fresh. She sang as though she was grateful to be alive. In the Chicago Tribune, Bob Gendron wrote, “She treated notes like putty, shortening and lengthening them at will, slipping in gritty moans before transitioning to climactic finishes.” It was good to see Aretha up to her old tricks.
In her dressing room after the show, she was keen to discuss the biopic of From These Roots with me. “If Halle Berry doesn’t have the confidence to portray me in my movie,” she said, “there are plenty of actresses dying to play the role. We’re moving ahead with the project and continuing the auditions.”
“She keeps talking about that movie as if it’s a done deal,” said Dick Alen, who was also at the Chicago concert. “As far as I know, there isn’t a single studio or investor that has put up a dime. It’s another one of Aretha’s fantasy projects.”
When it came to a real movie project—Alan Elliott’s attempt to release Sydney Pollack’s magnificent film of the Amazing Grace church performance from 1971—Aretha was less than cooperative.
“Because I’m convinced that this is the premier film of American popular music,” Elliott told me, “I committed myself to do all I could to bring it to the public. Over the course of five long years I tried to enga
ge Aretha. When I offered her half of the profits, she said she’d rather have a million-dollar advance. When I put together a group of financiers and offered her a million dollars, she wanted that—plus half the profits. In the course of negotiations, her demands kept increasing. She went from a million to three, then four, then five. At some point she hit me with a frivolous lawsuit demanding that I stop the imminent release of the film when, in fact, no release date had been set. The suit also claimed I had been profiting off her name when, in truth, I had remortgaged my house twice to keep this film project alive. I still cling to the hope that one day we will come to terms and this movie, a brilliant representation of her genius, sees the light of day.” As of this writing, the master reels are still sitting on a warehouse shelf.
She kept a light schedule of touring in the summer of 2011, playing the Toronto Jazz Festival as well as Wolf Trap, outside Washington, DC. In spite of poor record sales and some negative reviews, she stayed focused on performing and getting back in form.
That form was challenged when, in August, Billboard reported that composer Norman West had filed suit against Aretha for her failure to sign a royalty agreement for the song “Put It Back Together Again” that he had written for A Woman Falling Out of Love. West claimed that he went to court only after he could not resolve the matter privately.
Aretha was incensed and issued a public statement: “To say the least, I am extremely disappointed that Norman West had the unmitigated gall to file a lawsuit against Springtime Publishing, Inc., considering how I’ve personally assisted and advised him over the past fifteen years.
“I’ve helped Norman West make a name for himself in the music industry, earn a living and in the past I’ve used several of his songs on my CDs, which resulted in other artists performing and recording his compositions.”
