LUTHER VANDROSS / “A House Is Not A Home”

Anybody over 30 has a Luther story, and if not a story, a favorite Luther song that is fraught with romantic memories. Although I exaggerate, it’s not by much. Luther was a powerful presence in the world of make out music. My fondest memory is early seventies. [Actually, it was more like 80 or 81. My recall of dates is very poor.]  Luther just starting on his solo career. He was the bottom of the bill with Angela Bofill and Teddy Pendergrass. I had spent the afternoon conducting an interview with The Teddy Bear between stops at New Orleans radio stations. I had peeped the behind-the-scenes marketing savvy of Teddy handing out roses to all the female employees. Oh, he was so charming and as he proffered the red roses, he seemed so sincere, knowingly lingering just long enough to make the object of his momentary attention believe that she was getting just a bit more than someone else had gotten, would get. Teddy was hugely smooth. Plus he had one of his numerous big hits happening. Well that night, the last was first. Luther walked away with the show even though he went on first. Angela tried mightily to follow him and did better than normal. Teddy was at the top of his game, working his show. But everybody knew that Luther what’s-his-last-name-again? had been the best. I distinctly recall the specific moment. luther 02.jpg Luther was twirking A House Is Not A Home, starting with a growl as he stair-stepped his voice upward, ascending to a heavenly falsetto in what would become his trademark fashion. For most of his performance he had displayed a Jerry Butler-like trademark cool. But then, in a sudden fit of catharsis, Luther grabbed the mike stand, lifted it at least three feet high and then slammed it to the stage to pound home the line “I’m not meant to live alone.” The theatre erupted. It could have been church with the bishop presiding on Easter Sunday. The congregation was aflutter with palpitating female hearts (as well as quite a few menfolk amped up by Luther’s vocal expertise). Luther killed that song that night. Absolutely and for all time, as far as I was concerned. We might not could spell it, but from that moment on we absolutely knew “Mr. Vander-drow-sesses”’s” name! Dionne Warwick.jpg Luther intensely admired a preceding generation of pop divas. (Read a 1982 interview with Luther.) Dionne Warwick was one of the most high in his pantheon. When one surveys her Sixties output, it is undeniable: Ms. Warwick was a stylist of the highest order. She made fluff sound substantial, and gave heft and height to the most pedestrian of songs. An enthralled Luther built his career based on a foundation of craft inspired by people like Ms. Warwick and in later years reached back to offer a number of them a second wind when Luther re-recorded their material and even did duets or provided production work for some of them. He was not only talented, Luther was generous. Over the years he had hit on top of hits. He seemed to keep on going and artistically growing. He had become an institution. Two years ago I saw him at the Essence festival and was prepared to endure a nostalgia act, but no, once again he put on a show—not quite as dramatic as a third of a century earlier at the Saenger Theatre, but a good show none the less. Near the end of a stellar career, Luther produced “Dance With My Father,” thereby ensuring that he would be remembered as far beyond a simple balladeer. And now he’s gone. You just never know. While most of us recall Luther as a matinee idol, he also was legendary as a club icon. And though this live version of “A House Is Not A Home” is right-on Luther to the nth degree, it would not be fair to his legacy if we didn’t include a club track. So check out “Are You Using Me,” a 1998 Masters At Work mix that is probably new news to some of Luther’s old fans. luther 03.jpg Luther never stopped being a top-of-the-line singer, someone gifted with a golden voice and a willingness to work it: whether boogieing on a crowded, steaming-hot dance floor or lulling lovingly in your baby’s arms; enjoying an ingenious arrangement of a classic diva tune or being mesmerized by a right-on original composition—Luther was the man, even if he did have a crazy last name. It didn’t matter ‘cause he only needed one name. Luther. That’s all you had to say: Luther. R.I.P. —Kalamu ya Salaam Click here to purchase Luther Live 2003             I respect Luther          OK, I’ve just finished my Kanye rant and, as such, I’m too tired to pontificate about anything that doesn’t involve my bed. I will say though that I’ve always liked Luther’s version of "A House Is Not A Home" along with the other obligatory stuff like “Creepin” and “Superstar,” and I do like the live version Kalamu’s posting here, but I can’t honestly say I’m a Luther fan. That said, I do respect Luther for having had a full and rich career while avoiding the sometimes-trite and almost-always tiring vocal histrionics of many of his peers (e.g. Freddie Jackson, to name but one among many). I only wish some of the current generation of singers would take a cue from Luther and tone it way, way down. —Mtume ya Salaam  

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 10th, 2005 at 12:03 am and is filed under Cover. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.


6 Responses to “LUTHER VANDROSS / “A House Is Not A Home””

Rudy Says:
July 12th, 2005 at 5:51 pm

There’s been a lot happening today with respect to Luther Vandross and his celebrity funeral. Radio stations are playing his songs, and he’s in newspapers and on the internet, including Jamie Walker’s funeral report and photos.

 

So we at ChickenBones: A Journal (www.nathanielturner.com) felt a need to do something to honor the man. Something different.

 

I admit I’m not a Luther Vandross fan. Indeed I thought he was talented, and I liked the way he used his voice. There was a kind of purity about his voice, almost as if it were a musical instrument. I would not turn him off or anything like that, but his songs were just what I listen to. My sensibility was that he sang for women.

 

I stumbled across Kalamu’s interview and I like almost anything he does. There was also the attraction that the interview was old and so it would give a different perspective than the current funeral reports.

 

After I read it I found a lot of music history and musicality there. And I found the man, Luther. So there is a lot in the interview, and it was handled well. It gave me a new and fresh perspective on Luther Vandross. I think others will also become more sympathetic to our loss of this great artist.

 

The posting of the interview on ChickenBones will bring additional attention to the importance of the interview and the man, and maybe to what you all are doing at BOL and what to expect.

 

So a posting of the interview on ChickenBones might be a win-win all the way around.

 

Rudy

 


youngfus Says:
July 13th, 2005 at 4:31 am

First, Baba Kalamu & Ndugu Mtume – thank you for always making us welcome in your circle.
n o w – unlike more of my peers (22-35 yr old black males) than i thought, i was a luther fan, simply because had he not given me the soundtrack, i _never_ would have had a girlfriend.
that simple.
it’s almost embarrassing to know that [pop R&B stylist] luther paved the way when i’d like to say i was raised on the potent passion and politicism of Curtis Mayfield, or the musical majesty of Stevie Wonder, but in the 80s, in dallas, texas, _Luther_ was on the radio. My dad’s priceless record collection held those other iconic voices, and the O’Jays and the Spinners, with Aretha & Mama Africa laying a solid foundation, but dad didn’t share so much.
so i rocked the radio. and Luther’s version of Creepin’ was the first i knew. And Luther let me know that seeking the assurance of continued love (Are you gonna be – say you’re gonna be) is okay.
Luther made it plain. No arcane references to philosophical concepts i wouldn’t understand for another decade. No hidden metaphorical messages. Just: Let’s get this love right.
Let’s make it last. And if i mess up, you have to know i’m sorry because love is so amazing . . .
He made Burt Bacharach songs Black. (i know Dionne souled up some Burt, too – but she wasn’t on the radio!)
So, yeah, Luther was real-really-real-real right for me.

Thanks for letting me get that out.
Sharing feeds the spirit.
i wish you peace & power.


Craig Werner Says:
July 16th, 2005 at 7:27 am

First, gracias for the blog. I’ve missed Mtume’s voice a lot since the days of the Hip Hop round tables. Anyway, you’re right that everyone over 30 has their Luther story (and as y’all young folks follow the path, you’ll start to hear him different. I promise.)

Champaign, Illinois, late 1970s. I’m in grad school at the University of Illinois, teaching the Black Lit class and feeling pretty much alienated and isolated in an academic scene that has trouble with the notion art’s connected to the world. Sometime around 4:30 a.m., I wander down to the cafeteria in the student union (they actually tolerated education at all hours of the day then–kept the library open and everything), feeling pretty bluesy, with less of the sweet side than is good for you. Sat down at a booth next to one where a couple of the women from the night shift (the one island of blackness in a mostly white campus) were talking. More specifically, they were raving about this new singer who, they agreed, was the best thing to come down the pike since Sam Cooke. Recognizing a trustworthy review when I heard one, I went to the record store when it opened the next morning and picked up For Every For Always with the Sam medley. For an old school gospel/soul cat, there couldn’t have been a better introduction. Played the hell out of that album; a big part of the music mix that kept me in school. These days I teach a Black Music and American History (which includes yesterday and tomorrow) course at Wisconsin. Always always make sure the hip hop generation gets it’s shot of Luther, usually via "Power of Love."


peace and justice, 

craig werner

ANN REISS Says:
November 15th, 2006 at 1:26 pm

I AM A BIG LUTHER FAN. MY SISTER AND I ATTENDED A CONCERT IN ST. LOUIS, MO. I AM GUESSING IT WAS IN THE EIGHTIES. I TOLD HER THAT LUTHER HAD LOST WEIGHT AND SHE SAYS HE HAD NOT. I REMEMBER HIM MOVING ALL OF THE EQUIPMENT OFF THE STAGE AND HIS SINGERS TO PERFORM. DO YOU HAVE ANY PICTURES OF HIM AT THE CONCERT?


Rob Schmieder Says:
February 10th, 2008 at 5:22 pm

Great words on the great Luther. Thanks for the shoutout to his club presence–one of my millions of happy Luther memories is getting the DJ at the Spike in San Fran to play “For the Sweetness of Your Love” for a friend on his birthday (“I’d go ten rounds with Sugar Ray, for the…”) Ouch! That voice could rock the joint!


ellen Says:
June 10th, 2008 at 7:11 pm

luther was the man, he made a lot of love music, being alone music, being dumped, being used…. but, he was singing as if he was the one going through all these trials…. listen how he sings dance with my father, he said somehthing about his innocene was taken…what is he talking…. was he molested… did he have a significant other… I always wondered…. he was the best of all time with love music…. just wondered… I still love his music no matter what


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