Solomon Burke, the forgotten voice of soul, is back with an instant classic of an album, writes Tony Clayton-Lea
The voice of King Solomon, aka the Bishop of Soul, comes booming across the telephone line to me: "Howya doing? Thank you for calling. How's the weather? How's your family? Hey, I'm happy to hear from you! Are you younger than me? Anyone younger than me is young, baby." As introductions go this has got to be one of the better ones.
Normally, there's a reluctant, if not recalcitrant, voice at the end of a telephone line - you get the impression of managers and promoters putting a metaphorical gun to the head of the artist, compelling them to talk in order to crank up sales for a forthcoming gig or album. With Solomon Burke, however, the warmth is palpable and genuine: wheezy laughter, corny jokes, a history of smiling in the face of adversity, indifference and, sometimes, adulation.
This man made a record in 1974 called Music To Make Love By. He is now 67, a grandfather to more than 60 kids, a father to 14 daughters and seven sons. This is astonishing, I say.
"Astonishing?" The enunciated boom-boom of his voice makes the word take on a life of its own. "The women were astonishing, man! You know how us men are! I've got 65 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. Every day is a blessing and a lesson. What other preacher do you know that carries a personal road show? That's God-sent, man."
Actually, astonishing is really the word to use when you consider Solomon Burke's life and career. A key figure in the transition of soul music (where traditional gospel melts into blues, where secular becomes spiritual; "when you feel what you feel and know what you feel," defines Burke), his background as a boy-wonder preacher assisted in his passage from chapel aisle to stage door.
By the time he was in his teens he had his own church (Solomon's Temple), his own religious programme on a local Philadelphia radio station and a burgeoning chart career. Signed to Atlantic Records in 1960, the US charts remained his natural home for over five years, his voice ranked first in both soul and in the broader national pop marketplace.
By the close of the 1960s, the hits had dried up somewhat, and Burke's status had fast become usurped by other soul acts such as Otis Redding. Throughout the 1970s, by now label hopping (Chess, Bell, Dunhill, Polydor, Infinity) following his halcyon days at Atlantic, Burke's career was marred by inconsistency and a lack of focus. Making ends meet through a day job as a mortician ("I'm the last one to let you down and the first one to pick you up!"), Burke became a featured attraction around US soul venues from Harlem's Apollo to Los Angeles's Thunderbird via Atlanta's Royal Peacock.
Despite his slight fall from grace, though, Burke never went out of sight.
Although his name meant less and less to the majority of soul and rock fans (particularly in the US) he continued to record albums throughout the 1980s and 1990s. It was all the more surprising, then, when 2002's Don't Give Up On Me (its title a plea from Burke's heart as much as anything else) was afforded instant classic status on its release. It's something the man himself can hardly comprehend.
"I'm so grateful and honoured that I'm being accepted amongst new peers, friends, fans and people that I haven't had the opportunity to sing for, or to meet and greet," says the soul man, who talks as if he still hasn't left the pulpit. "Like for instance, people in newspapers in countries like Ireland. It's always been my goal to reach as many people as possible in the world in my lifetime. To give the message of peace and love and hope to all mankind is a real thing for me, man. I'm really into it and I have to find some way to do it, and God has worked it out with this record."
Burke's spirituality clearly dictates his way of life. He classifies music as being one of the truest paths to touching God. "It's connection with the angels, man.
"I think it's part of the heavenly chorus and part of what God wants us to know - that there's a bright side somewhere, that there's a connection to mankind through music of all kinds. I've seen many changes, my friend, from segregation to determination, from racism to lovism, from hate to deceit, from deceit to anger, from anger to joy. I've seen people's lives and hearts change, and I'm ready for today because I'm filled with the power of the Holy Spirit.
"Am I perfect? God knows I'm not perfect. I'm the last person to cast stones. You should give me some so I can cast some at myself!"
As far as Burke can recall, the last time he visited Ireland was in the 1960s, when he and Doris Troy played in a couple of small clubs around the country. Then, he remembers, it was a performance that included as many of his soul hits as possible. What can we expect almost 40 years later? "The best I have to give," he intones, "and I assure you I will give you my all.
"I'm willing to go back and sing older songs, as well as special requests and do all the songs I possibly can. I come to perform for, and to you, from my heart and my soul. Not from a book, but from the soul." I tell him we don't think we can ask for anything more than that, can we? "No, but if you do, please tell me and I'll try to do it."
Solomon Burke plays Dublin's Vicar Street tomorrow night. Don't Give Up On Me is released through Fat Possum Records.