There’s No Extinguishing Roberta Flack’s Quiet Fire By Sheldon Taylor

 

                                                         

   

"But if you can still hold onto what is yourself, that part of me that makes me Roberta and does not make me Chaka or Anita ... I'm going to hold on to that no matter what, and I'm going to nourish and cherish and nurture that and strengthen that." 

Roberta Flack’s confident occupation of her creative space, captured in a 1989 Washington Post (“Roberta Flack; Charting Her Own Course") interview among the pantheon of Black female vocalists, evokes the title of one of her classic albums: quiet fire.

There’s no one like her: traces of Minnie Riperton’s ethereal poetry live on in Jill Scott’s airy word-speak. Aretha’s litanies of longing are precursors of sorts to Mary J. Blige’s own heartache homilies.

A young Evelyn King’s pairing with producers T. Life and Kashif, which resulted in a string of disco/post-soul up-tempo hits from 1977-1982, foreshadowed Janet Jackson’s own post-adolescent commercial run with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis.

Echoing Whitney Houston’s vibrant enchantment, Brandy devotees crowned her “the Vocal Bible.”  Diana Ross’ seminal career trajectory sowed seeds for Beyonce’s own similar ascent.

Figurative and literal musical reincarnations aside---no one’s come close to replicating the genius of Roberta Flack. It's a legacy hard to pin down for generations weaned on Whitney or Bey’s high-wattage star power. Unlike today's current crop of female singers hugging the curb of similarity---Flack carved out a niche of her own apart from her contemporaries. 

Though capable of flexing her gospel chops, she never felt the need to echo Aretha’s (“Giving Him Something He Can Feel” “Young Gifted And Black”) and Gladys Knight’s (“Midnight Train To Georgia”) throaty power. 

Flack's own elegant genre-hop was the antithesis of Chaka’s explosive foray into dance, funk, R&B, and jazz (“I’m Every Woman,” “Tell Me Somethin Good,” “Papillion,” “And The Melody Lingers On”).

 Instead of Diana’s gift for grandeur (“Aint No Mountain High Enough,” “The Theme From Mahogany”) or modeling Natalie Coles's earthy romps (“This Will Be,” “I Got Love On My Mind”), Flack employed her "lush and dreamy" voice to express a command of music defying  categorization.

British soul music critic David Nathan's expansive The Soulful Divas summed up Flack's uniqueness:

"She certainly wasn't a straight-up R&B or hardcore soul, although she sang with plenty of soulful feelings. She wasn't a folk singer, although she was completely at home with acoustically made music. She wasn't an ordinary pop singer by its most narrow definition; a commercial hitmaker. She wasn't a jazz performer since her singing style didn't include the vocal gymnastics usually associated with performers of that genre."

Nathan saw Flack as akin to Nina Simone, the gifted and fiery song stylist who musical versatility informed Flack's who in turn acknowedged the influence yet reenforcing her own identity:

"I've been told I sound like Nina Simone, Nancy Wilson, Odetta, Barabara Streisand, Dionne Warwick, even Mahalia Jackson. If everyone said I sounded like one person, I'd worry. But when I say I sound like them all, I know I've got my own style."

Jet Magazine described Flack's style a "abrasive, soaring, anguished, easy, lilting or beltings by turns is in demand everywhere" while describing her gifts in colorful complimentary terms:

"Roberta Flack has prepared for her trade. She's a mezzo-soprano whom many believe could hold her own in opera. She plays Brahm, Beetoven, Bach, the so-called clasic composers. She also plays the gutbucket funky downhome blues of Blind Lemon, the warm ooze of  Missippi John Hurt; the rolicking boogie woogie of a Fats Waller and the moving stride piano of Earl (Fatha) Hines." 

Flack was different kind of Black female singer. One could describe her: everywoman. Her strong Cameroonian-by-way of North Carolina feature were unapologetically Black. Short and plump, she revealed a slight self-consciousness over her physical build but was less obsessive than friend /musical comrade Donny Hathaway's own image struggles ("I can sing, but I'm shaped like a pear"). Onstage she wore flowing caftans instead of glamour gowns and wigs 

 Low-key from the start, Flack declared herself anti-star during a 1970 interview with the Washington Post: "I don't want to be a superstar. I'm part of a generation of artists who don't believe in being superstars." 

Earthy unattachments aside, Flack's feet were planted firmly on the ground. During a time when Black entertainers exclsusively procured the services of Jewish managers to advance their careers, Flack installed young Atlanta lawyer David Franklin as manager and agent to negotiated ironclad contracts guaranteeing complete career autonomy. Flack's deals were lucrative enough for her purchase a luxury Upper West Side apartment where she remained for 40 years.  

In his book, Nathan unearths a 1971 Blues & Soul interview where Flack recalled childhood days of "having her hair pressed with a half a jar of Royal Crown" (pomade). Proudly declaring "times have changed" Flack reveled in her Blackness: "My great joy today is that I'm proud to say I'm young, gifted, and Black...and that's where it's at..."

Arriving on the scene just as Black music ditched a confining singles medium in favor of album-oriented creative expression in the early to mid—70s, Flack was a lone female musical auteur among gifted male contemporaries, R&B singers Donny Hathaway, Isaac Hayes, Stevie Wonder, and Marvin Gaye. 

Wonder’s legendary run has been oft-told: Recording 200-plus compositions over a three-year period would turn up on a string of classic albums (“Talking Book,” Fulfillingness First Finale,” “Innervisons” “Songs In The Key Life”)

Flack was no less prolific, even besting Wonder’s sprawling output. Drawing from her portfolio of 600 eclectic renditions of pop, folk, soul, and gospel tunes curated from her days as a moonlighting school teacher-turned-club singer---Flack played 42 songs for her audition with Atlantic Records. She recorded another 39 demos in less than 10 hours and completed her entire debut album in just under a day. 

The genesis of Flack’s self-assured capabilities first saw the light of day during Flack’s days as a classical piano child prodigy and music student at Howard University. From these experiences sprung a mastery of vocal delivery, intonation, and elocution---skills that would serve her well in the near future. 

Before the hits, commercial success, and consecutive Record of the Year Grammy wins in ’72 and ’73, Flack wowed audiences at Mr. Henry’s---an intimate dim-lit club on DC’s Capitol Hill that was her musical home base. Night after night, Flack---seated at the piano in her glorious ‘fro---reached into her eclectic curated (pre-Spotify) setlist that would attract the attention of Atlantic Records, leading to a creative pact that would last over two decades.  

During this long-gone era, electrifying performances with engaging setlists that resonated with listeners were the talent benchmark of the day. Over in NYC, Phyllis Hyman and a young Whitney Houston followed a similar path, performing in Upper West Side clubs Mikell’s, Rust Brown, and Sweetwater’s, attracting music executives and landing record deals through to crowd-pleasing performances and magnetic stage presence.

Nelson George's book The Death of Rhythm and Blues reveals how an Atlantic Records producer was captivated by Donny Hathaway's audience appeal early in his career: 

“When I arrived at the Troubadour (LA club), I found a line of well-dressed middle-class Black people three times around the block with tickets waiting to enter three hours before the show. Donny wasn’t famous then, you know, I called the office. And said something’s going on here. The electrifying was unbelievable. They (the audience) knew every song. He opened his mouth, and the audience went bezerk, It was like Name That Tune.”

 Flack and Hathaway were kindred spirits. During a period when everyone from Aretha to the Isley Brothers dipped their toes in experimental waters, they dived deep into the sea of reinterpretation.

The duo sold a million copies of 1972's Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway, a duet album that showcased their eclectic chemistry. It featured 19th-century Christian hymns (“Come Ye Disconsolate”), 60s pop remakes (“I Who Have Nothing” and “You Lost That Loving Feeling”) a seven-minute piano instrumental (“Mood”), countryfied update of an Aretha original (“Baby I Love You”) a recent soft rock hit (“You Got a Friend”) bookended by majestic harmony (“Where Love Has Grown”), a massive Grammy-winning hit ("Where Is The Love") the blackest love ballad ever written (“Be Real Black For Me”): 

"Our time, short and precious

Your lips, warm and luscious

You don't have to wear false charms

'Cause when I wrap you in my hungry arms

Your hair, soft and crinkly

Your body, strong and stately

You don't have to search and roam

'Cause I got your love at home"

Hathaway sang Flack's praises in album liner notes:

"Roberta is unique. She has classical soul. She's Black, beautiful and talented. trained, and qualified to be where she is and I have no doubt that she will continue to grow. I love her."

Flack dabbled in songwriting, but her niche lay in recording material written by others. Transforming an obscure folk song---"The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face"---into a haunting ballad, it would become one of her biggest hits."Killing Me Softly With His Song," another folk-ish composition, would also be given the Flack treatment to much success. 

Flack would display her sultry side on the Mtume-Lucas ballad "The Closer I Get To You" repairing her with Donny Hathaway. Nearly claiming another Grammy win for the pair (it lost to the Bee Gees' "Saturday Night Fever"). 

After Hathaway's tragic death she donated the song's entire revenue to the late singer's family: "All that money is going to the family. Any portion that is mine is going to his wife and two kids."

Sitting for a July '79 interview with Jet at her luxury seven-room apartment overlooking Central Park, a mere seven minutes from the Essex Hotel from Hathaway plunged 15 floors to his death---Flack recalls reaching out to her friend to rejoin her at a time where his career had derailed (due to mental issues) as hers was thriving:

"I don't wan't to sound to vain or egotistical, I don't think that there are that many people in the business that really confident in their little space to really reach out and do something like that."

Flack expressed skeptcism that Black female performers would ever unify: " It's hard for me to envison that. We are used to not having and we get it its hard to relax. I think we are not prepared to give it up for each other. We don't trust each other."

She also called out the music industry for marginalizing women:

"You don't see many woman producers in the industry. I produced my album (1979's gold-selling Roberta Flack featuring Donny Hatahway). How many of us are there? We are not encouraged to move beyond that sexy image of a woman who has these kinds of proportions and sings  her heart out. We are not allowed to think and move beyond that."  

Reconnecting with percussionist Ralph MacDonald and partners William Eaton and William Salter (writers of Grammy winners "Where is The Love" and "Just The Two Of Us") for the sexy "I'm The One" and "Feel Like Making Love," her first R&B and pop chart-topper. 

Reuniting Mtume and Lucas for one of two final Donny Hathaway collaborations, "Back Together Again" finds Flack's breezy vocals set to a rare uptempo with a catchy hook and bridge that salutes Cheryl Lynn's 1978 "Got To Be Real" ("got to be reeaaaal"!)

Despite scoring gold albums and #1 hits on adult contemporary ("Tonight  Celebrate My Love") R&B ("Oasis") and dance ("Uh-uh Ooh Ooh Look Out Here it Comes") during the 80s, Flack's no longer enjoyed the carte blanche treatment at Atlantic as she did years prior.

Irritated by the lack of label mainstream marketing support as covers of her old songs enjoyed some pop success like Al B Sure's 1988 rendition of "Killing Me Softly" ("which I don't think is good even though it's a big hit")--- Flack lamented being pigeonholed and given limited exposure despite her past track record: 

"Am I no longer considered to be a singer of pop music, or is that George Michael ("Faith") and people of that caliber can be considered Black artists and pop artists? I'm very confused. At this point in my career, am I only an R&B artist? Tell me the reason why!" 

This wasn't pop pandering. In a 1972 interview, Flack made no excuses for her creative choices: " I think Black is beautiful, but there is so much gorgeous music in the world that has nothing to do with Black."

Through it all, Flack would cling to her creative standards even if her fans had to wait years between albums. As other female acts surpassed her 70s and early 80s success, she took it in stride, sharing her perspective in 1989:

"I'd love to be Anita Baker or Whitney Houston with my career right now in terms of that success, but I don't envy that because I love what I have become after 19 years. I'm able to look at 'Oasis' and think, 'That's pretty good!' "It takes whatever your own heartbeat is, whatever your own pulse. If you're striving to be excellent, that takes whatever the time."

The Fugee's remake of "Killing Me Softly" exposed her to new audiences confirming the her signature hit's eternal evergreen status. Modest hits and periodic music releases along with steady touring would be constant as Flack's approached her 80s. 

A series of strokes curtailed future performances by 2018. In 2022, an ALS diagnosis rendered Flack unable to sing, forcing her into permanent retirement at age 85. That same year, a documentary of her life---Roberta---was released. 

The film's release was timely. Firmly rooted in Flack's voice it arrives just as ALS has curtailed her singing and speaking abilities. Encapsulating Flack's legacy perfectly as it recalls the words of writer Brandon Ounsley as he eulogized the passing of Flack vibrant contemporary Angela Bofill:

"A rare period where mature, self-contained Black female singer-songwriters produced intelligent and lush music that didn't have to be watered down or marketed to a certain audience to be appreciated."