I'll Take You There

On December 19, 2000, a feller by the name of Roebuck Staples died. He was more commonly known as "Pops" Staples, and his passing did not go unnoticed or unmentioned. Pops was a spiritual and soulful man who could play a little guitar when called upon to do so. He also had some children with a musical inclination, so he figgered he might as well start a perfoming combo. Called themselves The Staple Singers, and they made a few records. In the process they became a national treasure and the very soul of American music.

But you knew all that.

Although based in the big, big city of Chicago, The Staple Singers harkened back to an older, more rural America, one which Pops Staples knew well, having grown up in Mississippi skimming the narrow line between god and the devil, gospel and the blues, the common and the transcendent. It was to these junctures, these crossroads, where the Staple Singers took you. They've often been accused of trafficking in "message" songs, whatever those are. The complaint has always rung hollow, though, when taking the context. This was a pop soul group who, unlike some of their early contemporaries, were not afraid of the potential chart poison of speaking one's mind about the world they saw around them. They made no concession to the secular world, but incorporated it into the spiritual. More on that in a moment.

As brilliant a songwriter and guitarist as he was, and he certainly was, Pops Staples greatest contribution to the world of music was a daughter, a woman by the name of Mavis. I've had a big ole crush on Mavis Staples since the very first moment I heard her, filtered through static on a portable transistor late at nite (true story...I wasn't allowed to listen to rock'n'roll as a kid...I had to sneak it at night, ears glued to low, low volume.). The song was "Heavy Makes You Happy (Sha-Na-Boom Boom)". To those 9-year old's ears, it was a revelation. This was the early 80's and soul music, such as it was on the pop charts, was a watered-down wasteland of synthetic beats and vocals that were...well...bad. Really bad. And it hasn't gotten any better. Over the last 20+ years we've been subjected to the very worst of the warbling divas. There's a vocal technique that's been used, in addition to studio trickery, where the individual makes up for not actually being able to sing by warbling, scaling around the note. This is celebrated now as having vocal chops, but we know better. It's bad form, and lacks any sense of actual soul or sultriness.

Back to Mavis. There's no trickery in that voice of hers. She represents to me the very apex of soul, yes even above Queen Aretha. There's something smoky about Mavis' voice. It was sex to me at 9, and it's sex to me now. She was inside each song she sang, never above it, but always took the song heavenward. It's the voice of fallen angels, inviting you to salvation through the grit of the earth. The voice that is the holiness in the secular.

I'm convinced that "I'll Take You There" is one of the greatest songs existing in all the canon of recorded American music. Bold words for a song you can hear a hundred times a day on any oldies station, I know. But when was the last time you really sat back and let the song take you over? Try it. From the first chicken scratch guitar line and sudden horn chart, something funky's going on. Mavis comes in with a moan and a grunt, imploring you to imagine a place "aint nobody cryin'." The bass kicks in slinky, and Pops counters with his understated guitar godhead. It doesn't take long for the rest of the family to join in with the vocal chant of "I'll take you there", almost a second thoughth, the chorus of joy at the height of a house party. Mavis cajoles the electric piano into the foreground before sending her heart to "Daddy", as Pops takes an all too brief lead, bleeding into a harmonica lonesome. The song builds and builds, a little funky drummer struts before the kitchen sink drops in for a visit. It's a funk and soul orgasm in 3:17.

But it's Mavis who's the star here. The actual lyrics to the song are brief. For a bit of fun, check out how one of those lyrics sites interpreted the song (warning: annoying popups). It's what she does with them, and what she adds, shimmering and soaring above the proceedings. She's on her kness, begging, pleading, hollering. For transport. For release. For mercy. It's an astonishing vocal performance, following the music, controlling it, riding it, living it. I can visit it again and again, and every time find myself transported. Where she's taking you is up to interpretation, but she's damn sure you're coming along.

And that's the thing. Is the song a protest song or a sex song? I'd answer yes. Yes it is. Exactly.

Mavis Staples is releasing a new album in April. The title is "We'll Never Turn Back". It's a collection of protest/freedom songs in the vein of her earlier work with The Staple Singers. I'll be waiting outside the record store at opening time to get my copy.

Yeah, she's that good.