Sweet Soul Music: Rhythm and Blues and the Southern Dream of Freedom

Features

• Cover Type: Paperback with 384 pages
• Published by: Back Bay Books July 1, 1999
• Written in: English
• ISBN 10 Number: 0316332739
• ISBN 13 Number: 978-0316332736
• Book Dimensions: 9 x 5.7 x 1.2 inches
• Weighs: 1.2 pounds

Product Review
Nat Hentoff has called Peter Guralnick "a national resource," and for once this isn't a piece of hype. Guralnick may be a premiere chronicler of American popular music, which he writes about with brains, reverence, and a peculiar tenderness for dashed dreams. In this volume, he records the rise and fall of Stax Records--the Memphis powerhouse that produced a string of classics from the likes of Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, Carla Thomas, Booker T. and the MGs, and Johnnie Taylor. The birth of modern rhythm-and-blues makes for a fascinating story. But there's another story behind that one--the racial tensions that eventually tore Stax apart--which makes the book richer, and sadder, than we have any right to expect. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

From Library Journal
"A definitive chronicle of one of the great creative periods in American pop history," said LJ's reviewer of this 1986 volume, which tracks the rise and fall of a collaboration of white and black musicians, songwriters, and singers from the 1950s to its peak and disintegration a decade later.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Reader Reviews
Like Robert Palmer's superb "Deep Blues," Guralnick's extensive look back at the roots of R&B and soul music combines criticism, biographical profiles and social history into one rich, printed tapestry. Meticulously researched, the book shows its author's deep love of the music without sacrificing objectivity. Guralnick provides plenty of background on the "race music" that spawned R&B and the great soul music of the sixties and early seventies, on which much of the book concentrates. Like most, if not all, of the great blues musicians, the early pioneers of soul came from humble, mostly southern beginnings, and made little or no money from their work, which was liberally sampled by white musicians. A good portion of the narrative revolves around the fascinating rise and fall of Stax Records, the tiny Memphis-based label that brought together white executive leadership and musicians with raw black talent from the South. Despite initially primitive recording conditions, Stax developed into a powerhouse that was home to some of the greatest musicians in soul music, from Otis Redding to William Bell to Carla Thomas to Sam and Dave to Johnny Taylor. The label became representative of the growing sense of black pride that defined the era, one in which civil rights, of course, moved to the forefront of America's consciousness. All of these musicians and many more, including Aretha Franklin, Wilson Pickett and James Brown, to name a few, are given finely drawn profiles by Guralnick, and he treats their contributions to American music with the respect that they deserve. Throughout, he is intent on letting the artists tell their stories in their own words, and remains content to use his own fine writing to direct and bind together the narrative. Another great accomplishment of the book, for me, was Guralnick's successful effort to illuminate the ties between white and black musicians during this period. Yes, many of the most successful producers, notably Atlantic's Jerry Wexler, were white, but so were many of the musicians. Most had grown up in the south around blacks and were intimately familiar with African-American music. The Stax house band, which included Steve Cropper and Donald Dunn, was white, and they performed on many songs penned by great black songwriters such as David Porter and Isaac Hayes. Think of the great, ominous organ introduction to Aretha Franklin's "I Ain't Never Loved a Man." The white player is Spooner Oldham. This musical cross-fertilization is a notable point, one not often brought into considerations of the era. As a young kid coming up in the mid-60s, I loved the music that Guralnick writes about here, and I could tell -- even if he hadn't said so -- that he did too. He goes beyond that love to really dig into its roots and understand it, and succeeds admirably. Comment (1) | | (Report this)