“So, who’s the greatest pop singer?”
The answer tumbled out of my mouth so quickly, with a smile that turned to embarrassment when I considered my own confidence allowing me to forget who I was speaking with. This was obviously a test.
“Sam Cooke.”
Gene gave me a look of skepticism that turned to a slight smile. “Sam Cooke was a great singer. I love Sam Cooke.” he nodded approvingly.
“What about you, Gene? Who do you think is the greatest pop singer?”
He looked directly in to my eyes and stated clearly and definitely, “Nat Cole. Nat King Cole is the greatest pop singer ever.” He did this with perfect diction, too.
He must have seen my face shift once again, from a look of surprise, to that of question. He graciously kept going, before I could say anything in response.
“Nat Cole sang songs that everyone knows, and more importantly, everyone remembers. There was never a question as to what the words were… what he was singing. Nat Cole had perfect pronunciation and enunciation. Sam Cooke learned a lot from Nat.”
I nodded, hoping I was conveying understanding. But, it was obvious that I had research to do. Lots of it.
This is just a small fraction of the things I had been given to consider by my friend, the late Gene McDaniels. Throughout our brief time working together, Gene left me with many ideas to ponder, musical intersections to study, movements to move with, and inspiration to fan my own fires.
Gene McDaniels was a titan of pop, soul, jazz, and all the places where these musics originated from, diverged, and then came together again. I met Gene at a time when I was ambitious but somewhat aimless, enthusiastic but unaware of so much. For this man to share his personal experiences and takes on culture, music, and life with me seemed, and still does seem, surreal and somewhat fantastic.
But, here was the legend himself, writer of the soul jazz staple “Compared to What,” the R&B smash “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” and one of the finest interpreters of Burt Bacharach, eating bagels in my living room, talking about the finer points of lyrical substance and cultural relevance.
I would like to think that Gene appreciated my pluckiness. At our first meeting, he seemed to be surprised at my deep knowledge of not only his personal work, but all of his writing and production work for so many other influential artists. But, for as much as I knew, that my eager research had told me, there was so much more to the depth and breath of this one man’s vast body of work. In piecing together the puzzle of Gene McDaniels, I truly began to understand the twisting and weaving of the threads of the music that I loved so much.
Our time together was brief. Gene become increasing more unwell with the cancer that had been slowly eating at him. But, that never dominated the conversation. We talked more about his next projects, his next moves, the things that were still inspiring him to write, record, and create new music.
His forthcoming album, “Evolution’s Child,” was decidedly a jazz record in the finest way, and in the best sense. Gene was amazingly giddy about its release. His death would prevent the album from ever getting a proper opportunity to be heard.
His passing devastated me. At his memorial service, I reached my hand out to Miss Roberta, who was obviously in attendance to celebrate her favorite collaborator (take that, Donny Hathaway!) When she offered her hand in return, the power was so immense and overwhelming, all I could muster was, “Thank you.” The look she offered, I hoped, was one of understanding.
In the more than 10 years since that day, I have worked to be a good steward of what I feel like was unquestionably a blessing from one of my greatest musical and personal heroes. Most frequently, I question whether I am doing so, and whether what I do honors him. I have seen my career and my attempts to restart my education nearly disappear multiple times since then, due to personal strife, compounding circumstances, the impossible finances of a professional musician’s life, starting a family, and now a two-year quarantine that has all but shut down live music.
With the face of music having changed so precipitously, thanks to digital evolution and the unfortunate regression of live music, the study of the “analog” years and modes are more important now than ever. These years of Gene McDaniels. The Soul of the 60s, the revolutionary Funk and Jazz intersections of the 70s, the first generation of Hip Hop, the glossiness of 80s Pop, the Golden Era of Rap. Acknowledging the importance of these eras of modern music, and their impacts on society, ensures that there will not only be historical art from this millennia that students will study in the future, but will also ensure that there are no blanks in our cultural history books, and no lack of understanding. It is the study and practice of these musical intersections that is the defining force in my life and musical career, and what I hold to be the greatest goal for my academic work at Hartt. I wish to use my time at Hartt to study these musical and cultural crossings, the explosions that results from these collisions, and the after- effects on our world.
When I met Gene McDaniels for the very first time, It was in the hallway of the studio where we both happened to be working. When I recognized him immediately, and started a conversation, he asked about my session and my drumming, “Well, are you good?” He caught me off guard, as he often did in later conversations, with me replying “I’m good enough to be in the studio next- door to you!”
Next time we met, at his favorite sushi restaurant, I brought my beloved copy of Miss Roberta’s “First Take.” The album famously opens with Ron Carter’s undeniable bass intoning a sweet, slinky groove for what would become one of his most well-known songs, “Compared to What.” At the end of our sushi and conversation, when I let my guard down enough to tell Gene how much his music had meant to me over the years, he graciously signed the back of the album next to his credit.
“To Todd, Keep the faith! Gene McD”
I’m working on it, pal. I really am.