Just talkin' about Isaac Hayes
Posted: Sunday, August 10, 2008 1:56 PM by Gael Fashingbauer Cooper
Filed Under:
Celebrities
It's been a bad weekend. They say celebrity deaths come in threes, but we've had two in two days and both were so unexpected, so early, that their load feels unbearably heavy. We don't need a third loss, thank you very much. First, genial and wickedly funny comic Bernie Mac, dead at 50. And now, legendary singer, songwriter, actor, and owner of many other entertainment job titles, the one, the only, Isaac Hayes, just 65.
AP file |
Isaac Hayes will be missed.
|
Hayes had multiple careers, and was loved by multiple generations. My nieces and nephews know him mostly as the soulful rumbling voice of Chef on "South Park" -- at least until that dispute about Scientology led Hayes to leave the show. Before that dispute, he played Chef perfectly, and his gentle rumble of "Hello there, children" and his sex-filled songs will forever be a hilarious part of "South Park" lore.
But those of us who knew Hayes first and foremost as a musician, as a songwriter, as a singer, as the owner of that sweet voice that just rolled out of your radio in purring waves, we have a whole world of musical memories, too. Rappers, love-song singers, soul divas, they all owe much to Hayes and his brilliance.
A few years ago, I toured Stax Records in Memphis -- Soulsville, USA. The record label's amazing and rich history is displayed in albums, photos, memorabilia and other exhibits throughout its long and winding building. But my favorite exhibit, and the one I remember most clearly, came near the end. It was Hayes' peacock-blue 1972 Cadillac Eldorado, given to the singer by Stax for his chart-topping success. Stax's Web site calls it "the symbol of the style and cutting edge fashion that answered the question 'What's Soul?' in a way that only Stax and Isaac Hayes could." (Hayes' own Web site notes the car was liquidated by the IRS in 1977 before being restored and put on display at Stax in 2003.)
It's a sight to see, even today. Remember, these were the days before every soccer mom and dad installed a DVD player in their minivan. Hayes' gleaming car had its own bar, a clunky TV set ("clunky" being the only way TV sets came back then), and glinted everywhere with 24-karat gold. It was glorious and eye-popping and so exuberant you couldn't even call it over-the-top. You couldn't look at it and not smile.
And speaking of smiling, Hayes' 1969 album, "Hot Buttered Soul," labeled his voice perfectly. Can a voice be buttery? Yes, if it's Hayes' voice, and no one who ever heard it could deny that fact.
The car, the voice, the man -- they all came together in some perfect embodiment of cool that we are unlikely to see again very many times in our lifetime.
Share your memories of Hayes in the comments.
