Etta James – Tell Mama

Etta James – Tell Mama

In the 1960s, FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals became one of the prime locations for the creative and commercial development of southern soul. Not only did the studio help develop the region’s astonishing roster of homegrown talent, but it became a destination for nationally-prominent artists who sought to marry their hit-making sonic signatures to the studio’s tight country funk. Etta James’s Tell Mama, recorded at FAME in its halcyon year of 1967 and released in 1968, was both a pinnacle of this process – given that James’s career on Chess Records stretched back to the mid-1950s – and one of its final masterpieces. Soon after, the studio’s rhythm section departed to form their own studio and FAME reconstituted around a new band and a new period of success with the Osmonds, Bobbie Gentry, Clarence Carter and others. Tell Mama, the bold and brilliant record that James made in collaboration with the Shoals players and producer Rick Hall, returned her to the charts and remains one of her most famous LPs. And for good reason: it’s a remarkable synthesis of the Chicago-rooted blues and jazz textures that had anchored James hits like the glorious swoon of “At Last” to the gospel punch of “Something’s Got a Hold On Me” with the spare, strutting funk of Muscle Shoals. It points both backwards and forwards in the R&B/soul continuum, a cornerstone of her brilliant career and a centerpiece of the southern soul canon.

The album, fittingly and fundamentally, is a showcase for James’s voice. Her powerful alto swells, sways and swings in perfect complement with the supple and sympathetic arrangements. At times, she leaps out in front of the mix, like on the feverish “Watchdog,” which snarls with rock ‘n’ roll energy, and or “Just A Little Bit,” where James’s flirty snarl gives adult implications to childlike phrasing of the “teeny weeny bit” chorus. The most prominent example is on the title track, a gender-flipped version of Clarence Carter’s “Tell Daddy” that bespeaks both the post-“Respect” call of Aretha Franklin and James’s own earlier contributions to the answer-song script-flipping, when she offered “Annie’s” rebuke to the pleas of Hank Ballard’s “Henry.” (She pulls a similar, more implicit trick in her version of Otis Redding’s “Security,” trading his pleadings for the future into a demand for change now, as the slightly off-rhythm background vocals keep rushing to catch up with her.) On “Tell Mama,” James bursts through the stabbing horns, with a finger-pointing vocal that switches Carter’s leery smirk to a knowing (and sexy) rejoinder to her wayward lover.

Elsewhere, though, James’s clarion call whirls inside the mix, oozing through the instrumentation and bespeaking the vulnerability that parallels and intersects her moments of brash assurance. She calls for her lover to “keep me saaaaffee” on the ‘50s throwback “The Love of My Man,” exposing the roots of the dynamic vocal sweep that Van Morrison later made a trademark. She brings a knowing exhaustion to the blues humor of “My Mother-In Law,” nodding at Ernie K-Doe and needling the husband who got her into this mess.

The best example, and the album’s high point, is “I’d Rather Go Blind.” On this desperate plea, her vocals nestle between humming organ and soft backgrounds, behind a guitar and drum that trade sympathetic murmurs in the background. She works similar rocky ground on her version of “I’m Gonna Take What He’s Got,” and the despondent “It Hurts Too Much,” the closest James’s steadfast voice comes to sounding like she won’t survive.

The duality of Tell Mama even punches through within the same song.  On “The Same Rope,” James’s voice sounds at ease and playful in a way that it doesn’t elsewhere on Tell Mama. But this playfulness – with James bouncing over swinging rhythms and background vocals – offers a contrast to the song’s warning, which cautions her subject against growing too confident in the face of inevitable downfall. But, just beneath the surface, is James’s recognition that she too could end up being the victim of the very hubris and ignorance.

Best tracks: “I’d Rather Go Blind,” “The Same Rope”