Bill Withers, "Just As I Am"
CJ tells a tale of three Bills
CJ’s Pitch:
Bill Walton was a jerk to me. This has absolutely no bearing on my pitch, but I need you to know it. The guy who portrays himself as a free-wheeling, fun-loving, cannabis-experimenting, Grateful Dead-following, Hawaiian shirt-wearing former NBA star and current college hoops analyst was a total dick.
I was at a dedication ceremony for the great Bill Russell back in November of 2013. The state of Massachusetts had finally gotten around to commissioning a statue to commemorate Russell’s many achievements as a Celtic. The fact that it wasn’t installed in front of the Boston Garden next to the statue of Bobby Orr (10 seasons in Boston, 2 championships) is only slightly less troubling than the fact it took over 40 years after his retirement from basketball to create it. No, the statue of Russell (13 seasons in Boston, 11 championships) can be found in a remote corner of City Hall Plaza near the site of a race riot that occurred in 1976 during Boston’s busing crisis.
The statue’s location notwithstanding, the guest list of past NBA greats, current politicians and Hollywood elite was impressive. The only reason I got in was because I was there as a creative director/producer on behalf of the Celtics. It was my job to track down the VIPs after the ceremony and get quotes about Bill Russell from them that we would edit into a video to be played at that night’s Celtics game. They gave me a camera crew and a microphone with the Celtics shamrock logo on the side and set me loose in the room.
Emmy award-winning actress Alfre Woodard was a delight. She talked about Russell’s work in advancing civil rights. Charles Barkley was effusive in his praise of Russell’s tenacity against Chamberlain. Dr. J, who looked like he could still suit up and run with the current Sixers, told me how much he admired Russell’s drive to win year after year. Even then-commissioner David Stern, who looked like he’d rather gargle antifreeze than talk to me, gave me some good material about Russell’s place in the pantheon of the game.
(Side note: Not to speak ill of the dead, but Stern was the oiliest guy I ever met. Even his handshake was greasy. But, since he answered all my questions I refrained from yelling, “How could you let them steal the Sonics from Seattle?!?” in his face and then running away.)
Everybody I talked to was gracious and accommodating and things were going swimmingly. Until I got to Walton.
“Excuse me, Mr. Walton,” I opened while stretching my arm upward to its absolute limits in an effort to get the microphone somewhere near his face. “Can you tell me what Bill Russell means to you?”
Drawing in a sharp breath, he glared down at me and hissed “I don’t want to do this right now.”
“Oh, I’m getting quotes from everyone…” I started.
“I. Don’t. Care.”
“It’s for the Celtics,” I replied, nodding at the logo on the microphone.
This stopped him.
“Why didn’t you say so?” he growled.
“I tried to.”
“Come back later,” he snapped, pushing past me and my camera crew, nearly toppling us like bowling pins in the process.
“Thanks Bill.”
He did not make himself available, nor did I seek him out, later that afternoon. I took petty satisfaction in the realization that there was going to be an official Celtics video with a bunch of NBA legends talking about Russell and Walton wouldn’t be on it.
But again, this has nothing to do with my pitch.
***
Among the stars in attendance that day were two music icons, Johnny Mathis and Bill Withers. When Russell heard there was going to be a ceremony, he called his good friend Withers and asked him to write a song. Withers obliged, composing “I Am My Father’s Son” in honor of Russell’s hero, his own father. Since Withers hadn’t performed publicly since 1985 after a falling out with Columbia Records, he enlisted Mathis to sing it at the event. It was a transcendent moment and I remembered it fondly as I chose Just As I Am for this week’s album.
***
My first encounter with Bill Withers and his seminal debut album was in 9th Grade English. Our teacher printed out the lyrics to “Grandma’s Hands” and, after playing the song a couple of times on a record player(!), had us break it down and interpret it as we would any poem. The music was simple and percussive, but Bill’s words were so vivid that you saw your own grandmother in the description of his.
When I ran across “Ain’t No Sunshine” later in college, I was stunned by the atmosphere of chilled gloom and hopelessness that Bill had captured in relating how he felt when his woman was away. The metaphor is so incisive that it’s no wonder this song has been covered and sampled dozens of times by artists, famous and unknown alike.
I love the way the tension builds in “Harlem” as Withers catalogs the good and (mostly) bad things about living in the most dynamic part of New York City. The profound sense of loss in “Hope She’ll Be Happier” is evident in Bill’s plaintive delivery. And the raw sexiness of “Moanin’ and Groanin’” is enough to put a smile on the face of even the most puritanical listener.
Even the cover songs shine when Withers reimagines them into new forms. He manages to inject life into the otherwise plodding Beatles standard “Let It Be” (baiting Ken here). And his upbeat take on “Everybody’s Talkin’” from Midnight Cowboy completely undoes the depression you feel when you see it in the movie.
***
It’s fitting that the universe allowed Bill Russell and Bill Withers to find each other and become friends. Both were underappreciated geniuses who weren’t flashy and led by example. Both fought systemic racism in their respective fields and in the world at large. Both were tagged as recalcitrant and bitter by their detractors. And both ignored those ill-informed critics and stayed true to themselves.
Bill Russell is a charter member of the NBA Hall of Fame. Now let’s welcome his good friend Bill Withers to our own hallowed hall on Newbury St.
***
Also: Fuck you, Bill Walton.
Mitch’s Response:
I spent five years of my life as a restaurant cook, doing everything from prep to running the wheel, so it’s no surprise that I’m a Top Chef superfan. At some point during every season Tom, Gail, and (the future Mrs. Blum) Padma say: “this is when it’s tough being a competition. Someone is going to go home tonight for making a very good dish. It’s coming down to minor flaws.”
Such is the case with this week’s pick, Bill Withers’ Just As I Am. Criticizing this album seems absurd, because you have to dig really, really deep to find any flaws.
The songwriting is incredible. Musically, Withers approaches soul from a folk perspective, creating a unique, personal sound. Thematically, his lyrics evoke the societal and personal observations of Marvin Gaye, and paint a visceral picture of inner city life.
The playing is flawless, delivered by a supergroup backing band that is basically a mash-up of the MG’s and early ‘70s folk-country-rock pioneers like Stills, Ethridge and Keltner.
The production by Booker T. Jones is nothing short of genius, shifting from sparse to raw to rhythmic to gently sweetened with strings, perfectly suiting each individual song.
The singing is so strong, so emotional, and so authentic that Wither leaves no doubts that these are his songs.
And that’s really the only minor criticism that I could possibly level at this incredible debut album - the unnecessary inclusion of the two cover songs. They’re both respectable covers, but neither improves upon the original. I would have preferred two more songs by Bill, just as he was.
Pitch Successful (Please pack your guitar and go - to Newbury St.)
Ken’s Response:
The legendary Bill Withers, bringing in heavyweights like Stephen Stills, Chris Ethridge, Donald “Duck” Dunn, Jim Keltner, and Booker T. Jones (who also did an A+ job producing this album) is a recipe for greatness.
Add to that some well-written and constructed songs that address lost love (“Aint No Sunshine”), the memory of a lost grandmother (“Grandma’s Hands”), and the inner city life of “Harlem” and you’ve got a hit.
It’s not just the lineup or the songs or the production though, the performances are spectacular. Each musician does his or her job impeccably. One would think this is an album without faults. They would be wrong.
As Mitch already said, the two covers are total misses. As a general rule, don’t cover iconic songs if you’re 100% sure you can improve on the original or change it so much you make it your own. As a guideline, use Hendrix’s “All Along The Watchtower”, Cocker’s “With A Little Help From My Friends”, Cash’s “Hurt”, or The Black Crowes “Hard To Handle” as the bar you’re attempting to reach. In this case, neither the gospel twist on “Let It Be” nor the zydeco interpretation of “Everybody’s Talkin” even come close to that bar.
So here’s the thing, this is a really important album and Withers is an important cultural figure in a time when we needed more people like him. Just As I Am may not get a lot of spin in my regular rotation, but it’s good enough and way too important to leave off the shelves of the Newbury St. Collection.
Pitch Successful (If I get to heaven, I’ll give Grandma some Icy Hot for those hands)
CJ’s pitch was a slam dunk, and Bill Withers’ Just As I Am has been added to the Newbury St. Collection.
It’s a lovely day for you to swing by the comments section and let us know how you feel about Bill Withers’ Just As I Am. Use me if you must, lean on me if you need to, and see if you can write a comment with that left hand.
Please join us next week as Mitch pitches an album from The Artist Formerly Known As…Cat Stevens, with some tender vittles about Yusuf’s Tea for the Tillerman.
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