Etta. When I think of her and her womanish ways, I think of an entire era. An era of some stone singing. I think of her sisters in song who have gone home before her, like Ruth Brown, Esther Phillips and LaVern Baker. I think of good hard living. I think of a line from her song, “I’d Rather Go Blind,” that I never really understood until… well, until love finally got to me: When the reflection in the glass that I held to my lips now, baby, revealed the tears that was on my face. I think of how honest her voice is as she sings that line, tender yet determined. There is no one like Etta James. In recent years, young faux soul singers like Christina Aguilera have heralded her as an idol - a quick way to validate overly busy vocals, i.e., if this young dame knows about Etta James, she must be good. But I never fell for that. Etta is a woman. A woman who lived some life and lived to tell about it. And for that, and that voice, I give her my love and respect. You are in my prayers, my Sister.
