Farewell To Etta James

Etta James is gone.

It was hard to read, though I knew it was coming. A few years ago my husband took me to see her in concert for my anniversary. It was an intimate venue, and for a moment when I entered I could imagine what it was like to walk into some Southern juke joint in the 50’s filled with the sound of clinking glasses, and heels crossing the floor. The lights dimmed and this delicate and frail woman sat center stage perched on a tall bar stool. I thought to myself perhaps this was going to be one of those moments when you see an icon whose prime had long passed, force their way close enough to the old sounds of their vocal cords to make a song recognizable, but no. The small red painted lips parted and out came the words…At Last. The crowd, myself included gasped then stood and applauded. Etta was in house.

What made the sound of her voice so amazing to us was that the concert was running behind. Minutes earlier a member from the band had come out from behind a wall if instruments and apologized on Ms James behalf for the delay. He said she had gone to the hospital with Pneumonia and that her doctors in Nashville advised her against leaving. He was not happy to tell us that Etta had called in her hair and make-up team and was reading herself in the car on the way to sing for us. And then that voice filled the room. Amazing moment.

The concert ran as scheduled and she didn’t leave a single hit out. By the end I felt like someone had filled a big tub with warm honey and lit candles. It was sexy, sometimes soothing, always riveting, and downright electrifying to be there. I ordered a cocktail and sat back and just let the sound wash over me. I thought…wow, to have that kind of effect on people. To have that kind of gift. That kind of soul. Every note held in it a story of a hard life, a time of sexual desire, and at times a woman’s disappointments and heartache. She used the time in between songs to talk to us about her life.

Her speaking voice was soft and tender like a grandmother telling you stories that you were now old enough to hear and appreciate. She invited us in, like family or close friends. Shaking her at times in wonder that she made it at all. Smiling to know she had made it there….At Last.