240. Sam Cooke, "Live at the Harlem Square Club, 1963"
Imagine a warm January night in 1963 in Miami, a noightspot called the Harlem Square Club, absolutely packed with people ready to party, and here comes Sam Cooke, who by then was already a star, having released one instant classic after another, like "You Send Me," "Cupid," "Chain Gang," on and on. Imagine further that this show, backed by legendary saxophonist King Curtis and his band, was actually recorded for a prospective live album. Imagine being in that crowd, hearing a singer and a band at the absolute apex of their talents.
Now imagine you're a white record exec in 1963 listening to the tapes and deciding they're too wild for the careful pop image you're trying to sell. And by too "wild," of course, I mean too "black." Because if there's one thing this album immediately makes you aware of, it's that Sam Cooke took the energy of a Southern black church service in the midcentury era and turned it secular and brought it into a nightclub. The cadence, the call and response, it's all here. It is a church service, except the religion is soul music.
So you, the white label exec at RCA, shelve the tapes, and then Cooke is killed in 1964 and eventually they're forgotten until 1985 when Gregg Geller, another RCA exec, finds the tapes and realizes what he has and finally puts the album out.
The resulting album is a remarkable and powerful blast of pure energy. You can feel the heat and the pressed bodies and see the sweat flying. Cooke is clearly in his element, playing with the crowd, who rewards him with their energy. "Chain Gang," in particular, has a raw energy that simultaneously reaches back to its roots as a prison work song and forward to a generation of soul. Cooke's voice is smoky and gritty and then sweet and lilting. "Bring It on Home to Me" shows it all off; it starts almost literally like a sermon, with Cooke unspooling a tale of desperation and desire. The live version here teases "You Send Me" in the middle, without actually doing it. The tight 36-minute album closes with "Having a Party," which sounds so carefree and happy that you can almost forget about what's coming down the road, both for Cooke personally and for the country as a whole.
Does this album deserve to be in the Top 500? Obviously.
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