welcome to the deep dive our mission today is
well it's straightforward but the subject is
just monumental absolutely we're taking a deep
dive into the life and really the unparalleled
genius of aretha louise franklin and this isn't
just about you know a greatest hits playlist
no not at all this is about understanding the
very foundation of american soul music it really
is i mean when we talk about aretha franklin
you have to remember this is an artist who was
twice named by rolling stone magazine as the
greatest singer of all time twice that's the
bedrock it's the synthesis of spiritual devotion
of pain of freedom and just this the sheer vocal
power all in one unique sound We've gone through
a whole stack of sources for this. Yeah. Biographies,
music analyses, historical documents, to give
you the definitive shortcut to understanding
her legacy. And the scale of it is just, it's
mind -boggling. It is. Over 75 million records
sold worldwide. And that commercial success was
matched by a kind of chart dominance that, honestly,
very few artists in history can even touch. Numbers
are staggering. They are. She charted 112 singles
on the U .S. Billboard charts. 112. And 73 of
those cracked the Hot 100. But the key number
for me is the 20 number one R &B singles. 20.
That's just a sustained run of excellence decade
after decade. Exactly. Across five decades. Of
course, everyone knows her for that definitive
anthem, Respect. But when you do a deep dive
into her catalog. It just reveals endless brilliance.
Oh, you make me feel like a natural woman, chain
of fools. The gospel masterpiece, amazing grace.
And then, you know, much later, that global success
with George Michael, I knew you were waiting
for me. Right. So our goal today is to really
unpack that journey, the struggles, which were
immense, the strategic failures, and, of course,
the ultimate triumphs that earned her that permanent
title, the Queen of Soul. Couldn't have said
it better. Okay. So let's get into the origins.
To really grasp the force of nature that was
Aretha Franklin, you have to understand where
that voice came from. Right. It wasn't just forged
in a church. It was forged in this very specific
kind of celebrity activist and emotionally charged
household. That's the key. She was born in Memphis
in 42, but her definitive years were really spent
in Detroit. And the Detroit home. It wasn't just
a home, was it? No, not at all. It was a cultural
hub. Her father, Clarence LaVaughn Franklin,
C .L. Franklin, was the pastor of the new Bethel
Baptist Church. But he was. I mean, he was so
much more than a local minister. A national celebrity.
A national celebrity, yeah. Famous for these
dramatic, intense narrative sermons. They called
him the man with the million dollar voice. And
when you say famous, you mean like... Celebrity
famous. Oh, yeah. The sources say he was commanding
thousands of dollars for his sermon appearances
all across the country. Which is a level of income
and status that just it instantly placed young
Aretha in this completely unique environment.
It was far beyond your typical chirp setting.
So the Franklin home becomes this this nexus
point where American gospel activism and early
R &B all converged. Exactly. I mean, think about
the guests who were regulars in that house. You
had the giants of gospel like Mahalia Jackson,
James Cleveland, and the iconic Claire Ward.
And Claire Ward, she was more than just a house
guest, right? A lot more. The sources confirm
she was romantically involved with C .L. Franklin.
She served as this really crucial and kind of
complex role model for Aretha during her formative
years. Imagine that influence, seeing one of
the greatest gospel singers of all time up close
living in your home. It's massive. But the influences
weren't only musical. The home was also a meeting
place for civil rights leaders. Martin Luther
King Jr. was a family friend, a constant presence.
And then you had this blend of the sacred and
the secular. Early R &B stars, pop stars like
Sam Cooke and Jackie Wilson were also frequent
visitors. So that foundation gave her the entire
language, intellectual, spiritual, and musical
that she would draw on for the next 50 years.
Absolutely. But beneath this... vibrant, celebrity
-filled exterior, there is also profound family
trauma and instability. That's the critical undercurrent.
Her parents, CL and Barbara, they separated in
1948. And it was largely due to CL's acknowledged
infidelities. And her mother, Barbara, who was
an accomplished pianist and vocalist herself.
Right. In her own right. She moved back to Buffalo,
but she maintained frequent contact, came to
visit a lot. And then the tragedy struck when
Aretha was just nine years old. Precisely. Barbara
died suddenly in a heart attack in 1952, right
before Aretha's 10th birthday. And that loss
is described as... this immediate and devastating
channel for her artistic expression. You can
see it in the record. The sources note that almost
immediately after her mother's death, she started
singing solos at New Bethel. And her debut was
the hymn, Jesus Be a Fence Around Me. Which is
such an incredibly telling choice, isn't it?
Searching for protection right after experiencing
that huge unprotected loss. Exactly. And it was
here that her self -taught genius really started
to blossom. She learned to play the piano entirely
by ear. And that's not just a biographical footnote.
Her ability to accompany herself on the piano
and often, you know, essentially arrange the
song at the same time, that would become a defining
characteristic. It set her apart from almost
every other vocalist. It gave her an unrivaled
musical independence. It did. Her piano playing
wasn't just accompaniment. It was the rhythmic
and harmonic engine for her vocal performance.
It let her spontaneously shift the timing, the
mood, the arrangement of a song in a way that
Well, that you just can't do if you're only working
with a band. Her talent was so undeniable that
her professional career started before she was
even a teenager. Right. Her father, Ciel, who
had the contacts and the business sense, started
managing her when she was just 12. 12 years old.
Taking her on gospel caravan tours all over the
U .S. And she was quickly recognized as this
prodigious talent. Oh, immediately. By age 14,
she had recorded her first album, Songs of Faith,
released on JVB Records. She was featured on
vocals and piano, and her first singles, like
Never Grow Old, were released in 1956. It's just
astonishing when you think about the juxtaposition
of her life at that age. It really is. On one
hand, she's this precocious talent touring the
gospel circuit, so respected that Dinah Washington,
the reigning queen of the jukeboxes, pointed
her out to Quincy Jones and said, Aretha was
the next one. But on the other hand, the deep
personal challenges that ran parallel to this
were just immense. And we have to slow down and
acknowledge the profound burden and maturity
that was required of her. She gave birth to her
first child, Clarence, at age 12. At 12. And
her second son, Edward, at 15. I mean, she was
still a child herself, navigating these massive
physical and emotional responsibilities while
performing professionally. And it's important.
to note, both children took her family name.
The sources show that while she was pursuing
her career, her grandmother Rachel and her sister
Irma were absolutely essential in helping to
raise them. So that combination of immediate,
immense adult responsibility, profound spiritual
training, and proximity to political and musical
power. That's the crucible that created the Queen
of Soul. An adult performer Burdened by a child's
life. Which surely fed the intensity and the
rawness of her voice. And just to tie back to
that activist thread for a second. At 16, she
was touring with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Right.
And this wasn't just a friendly association.
She was performing at civil rights events deeply
embedded in the struggle long before her songs
became anthems for it. And that association was
so fundamental that it would bring her full circle
to sing at his funeral in 1968. A truly a voice
for the movement. From the very beginning. From
the very beginning. A deeply personal foundation
of brilliance and burden set against the backdrop
of American social change. That's where we start.
So by 1960, Aretha is 18, and she makes this
strategic decision that's going to define the
next six years of her life. She wants to transition
to pop music. Right. She wants to leave the gospel
circuit, largely inspired by the path that Sam
Cooke had successfully paved. So she heads to
New York and CL Franklin uses his network to
get a two -song demo tape made. And that demo
ultimately lands her a contract with Columbia
Records. But the story of who didn't sign her
is almost as fascinating as who did. It's a huge
what -if moment in music history, isn't it? A
massive one. Sam Cooke, who'd seen her power
firsthand, desperately tried to persuade CL Franklin
to sign her with RCA Victor. He believed that
label could better handle her transition. But
the truly staggering historical footnote is Barry
Gordy. Yes, Gordy was just launching his brand
new label, Tamla, which would soon become Motown.
And he wanted to sign Aretha and her sister Irma.
He did, and C .O. Franklin rejected the offer
outright. He felt Tamela was too new, not established
enough to handle his daughter's career. Just
imagine the history books if the Queen of Soul
had been a Motown artist. It's hard to even comprehend,
but she ultimately chose Columbia in 1960. Her
first single, Today I Sing the Blues, was issued
almost immediately and became an R &B top ten
hit. Her first album, Aretha. but the Ray Bryant
combo from 61 was successful enough to give her
her first song on the Billboard Hot 100, Won't
Be Long. And she also showed off her versatility
with a hit cover of the standard Rockabye Your
Baby with a Dixie melody. And that versatility
was really key to Columbia's strategy. It was.
Under the producer Clyde Otis, Columbia deliberately
avoided pigeonholing her. They wanted her to
be this sophisticated, polished, all -encompassing
pop star. So they had her performing in all these
diverse genres. Everything. Standards, vocal
jazz, blues, R &B. And it earned her early critical
acclaim, Downbeat Magazine named her a new star
female vocalist by the end of 1961. And it was
during this era, the early 60s, at a performance
at the Regal Theater in Chicago that she gets
the title that stuck. Yeah, a WVO on radio personality
named Purvis Spann officially crowned her the
Queen of Soul. And the title was just this immediate
recognition of her power, even if her label didn't
quite know how to package it. And that's the
paradox of the Columbia years. She was critically
acclaimed. claimed she was earning major recognition.
By the mid -60s, she was making $100 ,000 a year
from performances, which was a substantial income
at the time. A huge income. Yet she struggled
with that widespread, consistent commercial success
that really matched her talent. Okay, this is
the crucial disconnect we need to explore. Six
years, good money, critical praise, but no consistent
chart dominance. Why did Columbia fail the Queen
of Soul? Well, it really comes down to creative
misdirection. Columbia was trying to mold her
into a successor to artists like Dinah Washington
or maybe even a more R &B -inflected Barbra Streisand.
A versatile, polite pop singer. Exactly. They
were afraid that leaning too heavily into the
raw, unadulterated power of her gospel roots
would limit her crossover appeal to the mainstream,
which meant, you know, a largely white pop audience.
So it sounds like they were actively trying to
strip away the very essence of what made her
so unique. That's precisely right. That spiritual
ferocity. Able executive Johnny Chamin later
admitted this was their failure. He recognized
that Columbia just had not understood the gravity
or the commercial potential of her deep gospel
background. They wanted to smooth out the edges.
to sanitize the glorious, unpredictable runs
and shouts that came so naturally to her. The
analogy we always hear fits perfectly here. They
were trying to fit a volcano into a cocktail
glass. That's a great way to put it. They contained
the heat and the power until it was palatable
for the easy listening charts, where she did
occasionally chart. Right, alongside her continued
army success, with songs like Running Out of
Fools and One Step Ahead. But that containment,
it ultimately stifled her. The album sales just
didn't explode the way they should have. The
market, even the pop market, could sense the
inauthenticity or the repression in the music.
So after six years, the story concludes not with
a huge bidding war, but with a quiet, kind of
embarrassing whimper. Yes. When her contract
expired in November 1966, the financial reality
was brutal. Despite her substantial performance
income, the label's costs and low album sales
meant she actually owed the company money. She
owed them money. Because the guaranteed advances
hadn't been recouped by sales. So that financial
and creative obligation marked the end of her
time at Columbia. A six year period of artistic
frustration that ironically prepared her for
what was coming next. She was educated in the
pop world. learned how the machine operated,
and was ready to break free and unleash her true
power. That commercial failure at Columbia, owing
the label money, it just set the stage for one
of the greatest career turnarounds in music history.
It really did. Aretha needed a new home and a
new vision, and she found both with Jerry Wexler.
at Atlantic Records. And Wexler was the strategic
genius who understood the fundamental mistake
Columbia had made. He saw that her gospel background
wasn't a liability to be contained. It was the
nuclear core. It was the nuclear core that needed
to be unleashed. His philosophy was deceptively
simple. Tapped directly into her spiritual roots
to encourage this tenacious form of rhythm and
blues that became increasingly identified as
soul. He wasn't looking for a polished pop star.
No, he was looking for the queen of soul. And
this new direction meant moving away from the
New York polish and taking her south, right to
the source of Southern soul. Muscle Shoals, Alabama,
in January of 1967, they set up shop at Fame
Studios for the recording session of what would
become her debut Atlantic single. And the Muscle
Shoals session is instantly legendary, but not
for its smooth operation. No, it was chaotic.
The recording session for I Never Loved a Man,
The Way I Love You, was abandoned after only
one day because of an altercation. Right. The
sources are clear. The tension was high and it
was messy. It involved her manager and husband
at the time, Ted White. Getting into a fight
with studio owner Rick Hall and a horn player.
The session just dissolved immediately and Franklin
and White flew back to New York. But despite
the drama. or maybe because of the raw energy
the drama injected. That single, Aborted Day,
produced an absolute masterpiece. The song was
released the very next month, and the impact
was immediate and phenomenal. It was explosive.
I never loved a man the way I love you. Soared
to number one on the R &B chart, and critically
gave her her first top ten hit. It peaked at
number nine on the Hot 100. Her debut Atlantic
album of the same name went gold. This was the
success Columbia had chased for six years, and
she achieved it in one day of chaos in Alabama.
The world was ready for that raw, gospel -infused
power, and Atlantic was ready to deliver it.
But that breakthrough, as massive as it was,
was quickly eclipsed by the signature track that
became an immortal cultural touchstone. Respect.
Respect. Originally, of course, an Otis Redding
song from 1965. But Franklin's version, released
in April 67, it wasn't a cover. It was a total
transformation. And this is where we have to
pause and talk about her vocal and rhythmic genius.
Redding's version was a plea from a man who works
all day, demanding respect when he comes home.
Aretha's version, which she essentially rearranged
herself on piano, transformed it into a supercharged
manifesto. She flipped the gender dynamics. She
added the famous socket to me backup vocal refrain.
And crucially, she added that iconic, emphatic
spelling out of the title. R -E -S -P -E -C -T.
And the spelling wasn't just catchy. It added
this degree of defiant clarity. It was an unmistakable
declaration, not a subtle request. And the social
context was ready for that declaration. The song
just exploded. It hit number one on both R &B
and pop charts, but its impact went so far beyond
music. It was instantly hailed as both a civil
rights rallying, cry demanding dignity and recognition.
And a powerful feminist anthem demanding parody
and acknowledgement in a way few songs ever have.
Otis Redding's reaction to this is one of the
great anecdotes in music history. It is. He reported.
loved her version but admitted that little girl
done took my song away from me. He knew she had
found something in the song that he the originator
hadn't even recognized. And that launched what
the sources rightly call her golden era from
67 to 72. She was just unstoppable. Yeah by 1968
she was crowned the most successful singer in
the nation issuing masterpiece albums like Lady
Soul and Aretha Now. And these albums gave us
hit after hit. Chain of Fools, Think, which she
also co -wrote. And the phenomenal Carol King
Gary Goffin composition, I Say a Little Prayer.
The output was just relentless and consistently
masterful. The recognition was immediate and
staggering. She established this legendary dominance
at the Grammys. Winning the first eight consecutive
awards given for best female R &B vocal performance
from 1968 all the way through 1975. Eight in
a row. That is a level of initial unchallenged
mastery that is almost unbelievable. The activist
community recognized her power too. In February
68, Martin Luther King Jr. just weeks before
he was assassinated, personally presented her
with the SCLC Drumbeat Award for Musicians. The
recognition of her cultural importance was total.
It spanned from the pop charts right to the civil
rights front lines. And she became a global phenomenon.
Late spring of 68, she undertakes her first tour
outside the U .S. Amsterdam. The audience was
described as near hysterical. literally covering
the stage of flower petals. By June of 68, she's
on the cover of Time magazine. She had arrived
and the world understood this was not a fleeting
moment. This was a defining voice. The creative
peak of this Atlantic era, though, it wasn't
a pop song. It was a return to her foundational
spiritual roots. That would be the 1972 recording
of the live gospel album Amazing Grace, recorded
over two nights in a church. And it wasn't just
critically acclaimed. It was a commercial juggernaut.
It sold over two million copies. making it one
of the best -selling gospel albums of all time.
It showed that her core audience and the mainstream
audience had finally united around her spiritual
power. What's fascinating is the story surrounding
the accompanying concert film, directed by Sidney
Pollack. That footage sat dormant for decades.
It did. Initially, the delay was technical synching
problems made the footage unusable. But later,
Franklin herself actually tried to prevent its
distribution. So the film, which documents this
profound career -defining moment, wasn't actually
released until 2018. Long after her death. It's
a testament to the complex, private nature of
her control over her image and her art. But after
1972, the sources indicate that the momentum,
particularly on the pop charts, began to waver.
It's the challenge every artist faces after a
creative explosion. She tried new collaborations.
Her 1973 album, Hey Now Hey, produced by the
great Quincy Jones. It bombed. Yeah, it bombed.
It failed to capture that signature Atlantic
lightning in a bottle. And while she continued
to score R &B hits like Until You Come Back to
Me. By 1975, her albums were no longer guaranteed
top sellers. The disco era was taking hold, and
her signature soul sound, at least the way it
was being produced at Atlantic, was struggling
to find traction. Exactly. Though she did have
one final major success collaborating with Curtis
Mayfield on the soundtrack to the film Sparkle.
Right, that yielded something he can feel, which
gave her her last top 40 pop hit of the decade.
It was a beautiful, nuanced piece of work, but
it was a temporary reprieve. Her final albums
for Atlantic, Almighty Fire, and La Diva, they
were chart failures. It just underscored that
the magical partnership with Wexler and the Muscle
Shoals sound had run its course. And that led
to her departure in 1979, a massive period of
artistic growth, political significance, and
soul dominance that ended, once again, on a commercial
downswing. She had revolutionized soul music,
but now the industry was looking ahead and Aretha
needed to find a new way to stay relevant. The
end of the Atlantic era meant Aretha needed a
major intervention to navigate the changing musical
landscape of the 1980s. And she found that intervention
and that strategic vision by signing with Arista
Records in 1980. under the guidance of Clive
Davis. And Clive Davis was renowned for his ability
to rejuvenate the careers of established legends.
He was determined to bring Aretha back to mainstream
visibility by embracing a modern pop sound. Which
required a really delicate strategy, right? Yeah.
Maintaining the integrity of the Queen of Soul
while fitting her into this new technology -driven
decade. Exactly. And the first step wasn't a
record. It was a screen role. Her profile immediately
got a massive cultural boost from her cameo in
the 1980 film The Blues Brothers. That was a
stroke of marketing genius. It really was. She
played Mrs. Murphy, the proprietor of a soul
food restaurant, belting out, in this fantastic
musical sequence. A performance she later reprised
in Blues Brothers 2000. Right. And it put her
in front of a new generation, a movie audience
that might not have been buying her 70s albums.
It was a vital cultural bridge. Musically, the
momentum was gradual but deliberate. Her 81 album,
Love All the Hurt Away. It featured a successful
R &B duet with George Benson and crucially earned
her a Grammy, ending a six -year drought. That
win signaled to the industry, she's back. And
Davis's strategy accelerated in 1982 when he
hired Luther Vandross to produce the album Jump
to It. And Vandross was a rising star in R &B
production. He provided a more contemporary yet
still soulful sheen to her sound. The results
were immediate and measurable. Jump to Up, it
was her first album since the Sparkle soundtrack
seven years earlier, to go gold. Right. It confirmed
that modern R &B production could successfully
house her iconic voice. And that was just the
prelude to the big, necessary and maybe controversial
transformation. The 1985 album Who's Zoomin'
Who. It was a radical departure. Arista hired
producer Narada Michael Walden, and he steered
her fully into the crossover pop sound of the
mid-'80s. Which meant consciously moving away
from the pure, organic R &B of Atlantic. Oh,
yeah. The album utilized synthesized dance rock.
urban pop elements. It was heavy on keyboards,
drum machines, and that classic mid -80s sheen.
A huge risk. But it paid off spectacularly. The
sources note it became her first certified platinum
album, and it peaked at number 13 on the Billboard
200. Her highest album peak in nearly 20 years.
Clive Davis had done it. He'd succeeded in making
the Queen of Soul a contemporary pop force again.
And the success was fueled by a new platform,
MTV. That exposure was critical. Absolutely.
Aretha, who had kind of missed the initial video
revolution, was suddenly reaching this massive
global young audience through music television.
The album yielded major hits, most famously Freeway
of Love and the title track. And it also produced
that politically charged yet entirely pop duet.
Sisters are doing it for themselves with the
new wave duo Eurythmics. It cemented her place
as a figure who could collaborate across genres
and generations without losing her identity.
And the global pinnacle of this era came with
her 1986 album Aretha featuring the duet with
George Michael. I knew you were waiting for me.
A massive worldwide success. A global number
one. Top charts in the U .S., the U .K., Australia.
For Aretha. it was monumental. Her first single
in almost two decades to top the Billboard Hot
100, and it won her another Grammy. The collaboration
was perfect. George Michael's modern pop sensibility
paired with the sheer power and history of Aretha's
voice. Amidst all this pop glory, though, she
did take a brief, meaningful pause to honor her
roots. She did. In 1987, she released her second
full -length gospel album, One Lord, One Faith,
One Baptism. Recorded live at her late father's
church, New Bethel, it was a strategic reminder
that no matter how many synthesizers she used
on Arista, her spiritual core was still intact.
But the sources indicate that after the late
1980s, consistent mainstream success started
to prove elusive again. Yeah, Rolling Stone noted
that after 1988, Franklin never again had huge
hits. The problem was the changing sound of R
&B. She attempted to adapt to the new dominant
genre of the late 80s and early 90s. A new jack
swing sound. Okay, so for listeners who might
not be steeped in music history, what exactly
was new jack swing and why did it present such
a challenge for her? Well, new jack swing was
essentially the fusion of R &B vocals with hip
-hop beats. It incorporated synthesized drums,
swing rhythms, and often this aggressive angular
instrumentation. So think artists like Teddy
Riley and... Babyface's early work with groups
like Guy or Bobby Brown. Exactly. The sound was
very youth -driven and highly produced. And when
Aretha attempted to enter that space with albums
like Through the Storm and What You See Is What
You Sweat. The attempts were commercially unsuccessful.
It was a hard fit. Her voice, which was built
for expansive soul, natural acoustic arrangements
and rhythmic improvisation, often sounded compressed
and kind of out of sync when forced into the
rigid synthesized structure of New Jack Swing.
The album was bombed because the sound just lacked
the necessary authenticity. Exactly. The authenticity
that had defined all of her previous successes.
Despite the album struggle, she still found niche
success, which really proved her versatility.
She did. She showed she could adapt to the club
scene, topping the Billboard Dance Club play
chart in 93 with the house song A Deeper Love.
And she managed a final top 40 R &B hit working
with Babyface on the smooth ballad Willing to
Forgive in 1994. Her 1998 album A Rose is Still
a Rose was her final gold certified album and
final top 40 single, proving she could still
land when the production was right. But the moment
from this late Arista period that transcended
music and became pure legend happened in the
1998 Grammys. It's the story of performance under
impossible pressure. Ugh, the Pavarotti story.
Luciano Pavarotti, the world -famous opera tenor,
was scheduled to perform the legendary aria Nessun
Dorma. And he became too ill to sing at the last
minute. The show producers were in an utter panic.
The show was live. Millions were watching. They
needed a miracle. And they turned to Aretha.
She'd performed the aria two nights earlier at
a different event, sort of as a private curiosity.
They asked her if she could possibly step in.
And here's where we have to discuss the technical
difficulty. Aretha was a powerful mezzo -soprano,
a lower female vocal range. Pavarotti sang in
the tenor range, a much higher male range. The
orchestra had been tuned and arranged specifically
for a tenor. For her to agree to sing that complex,
demanding aria in the tenor key in front of the
world with basically two hours notice, it's arguably
one of the most audacious acts of musical genius
in live broadcasting history. She asked to hear
Pavarotti's rehearsal tape once, walked onto
the stage, and delivered a performance that was
met with an immediate fervent standing ovation.
It proved, definitively, that her technical mastery
was unbound by genre. The performance was seen
by over a billion people worldwide. It was just
pure, unadulterated excellence and showmanship.
She performed the aria again, years later, for
Pope Francis in 2015. It was a signature moment
of the Queen of Soul claiming mastery over even
the most sacred Western European art form. She
ultimately departed from Arista. after two decades,
releasing her final album with them, So Damn
Happy, in 2003, which featured the Grammy -winning
song Wonderful. A fitting, if quiet, conclusion
to an era defined by strategic reinvention and
global crossover. The final decade and a half
of her life, following her departure from Arista,
saw Aretha transition into a role that very few
artists ever achieve. The role of a living national
monument. Exactly. Her public performances were
treated as significant historical events. And
this was really cemented by her appearance. on
the political and national stage. Her performances
were often these moments of collective national
reflection. She performed the Star -Spangled
Banner at Super Bowl XL in her hometown of Detroit
in 2006. But the performance that captivated
the world, maybe even outside of the music itself,
was at President Barack Obama's 2009 inaugural
ceremony. She performed My Country, Tis of Thee.
And the sources highlight the cultural moment
created by her enormous custom -designed hat.
The hat. A gray felt piece with this massive
bow. It became a viral online topic, almost overshadowing
the gravity of the inauguration itself. It was
the perfect blend of high culture, personal style
and American tradition. It was a statement. The
Queen of Soul was dressed for the occasion, representing
not just herself, but the rich tradition of the
black church and the dignity of the office. She
returned to Ford Field in 2016 for another rendition
of the National Anthem, seated behind the piano
in a fur coat, giving this remarkable four minute,
largely improvised version that just emphasized
her complete mastery over the melody. In 2014,
she briefly returned to working with Clive Davis
at RCA Records, and that partnership immediately
led to a remarkable chart milestone. Yeah. Her
2014 album, Aretha Franklin Sings the Great Diva
Classics, included her now famous cover of Adele's
Rolling in the Deep. And when that track debuted
on the Hot R &B Hip Hop Songs chart. Aretha became
the first woman to have a 100 songs chart on
that listing. 100 songs. Just think about that
sustained run. Yeah. Five decades of charting
power. It's an achievement that speaks volumes
about her enduring connection to the core of
American rhythm and blues. But if there is one
performance from her final years that encapsulated
her entire legacy, her power, her pain, her gospel
foundation and her sheer star quality, it has
to be the 2015 Kennedy Center Honors. This was
the performance that moved us. sitting present
to tears exactly the honors were celebrating
carol king who co -wrote you make me feel like
a natural woman which aretha had turned into
a career -defining hit decades earlier aretha
walked onto the stage sat at the piano and proceeded
to deliver a performance that was just universally
acclaimed. And the moment everyone remembers,
the flashpoint of the entire evening happened
during the swelling bridge of the song. She dramatically
dropped her fur coat from her shoulders to the
stage. And the symbolism here is so deep it demands
a full unpacking. David Remnick, writing in The
New Yorker, captured the essence of it, referencing
what the sources describe as a powerful gospel
tradition. Tell us more about that tradition.
Why was the dropping of the coat so much more
than just a theatrical flourish? It goes back
to the tradition of homegoing services in the
gospel community, especially funerals for prominent
figures. It was known that sometimes when a gospel
queen died, a contemporary would toss their expensive
fur coat onto the coffin. Wow. And this gesture
was profoundly complex. It honored the dead,
offering a lavish tribute, but it simultaneously
served as this defiant, triumphant, and almost
theatrical declaration. castigating death itself.
It's a refusal to let mortality have the final
word. So performing Carole King's song in front
of the co -writer, in front of the president,
and dropping that code, it wasn't just showing
off. No. It was summoning the entire spiritual
weight of her history, connecting the sacred
power she learned as a child to the spectacular
power she wielded as the queen. It was transcend.
The raw emotion, the piano runs, the vocal precision,
and then that symbolic casting off of the mantle
of sorrow. President Obama was visibly moved
to tears because that moment articulated a lifetime
of pain. Her early life trauma, her struggles,
her losses transformed into glorious, vital hope.
Franklin herself later recalled it as one of
the best nights of her life. And following that
pinnacle, her public performances became increasingly
rare. She continued to record, releasing a brand
new Me in 2017 with archived recordings and the
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. Her final full
concert was at the Ravinia Festival on September
3, 2017, and her final public performance was
at an Elton John AIDS Foundation gala in New
York in November of that year. We should also
acknowledge the personal context that ran alongside
these triumphs, particularly the immense care
she undertook for her father. That's a defining
aspect of her life in the 1980s. She moved back
to Detroit in 1982 to assist with the care of
C .L. Franklin, who had been shot in 1979 during
a home invasion and remained in a coma. She cared
for him devotedly until his death in 1984. That
personal dedication highlights a fierce loyalty
to her family that often ran parallel to her
public career. And regarding her own health.
A major factor that limited her global stardom
later in life was her fear of flying. Yes. Following
an incident in 1984, she developed a crippling,
lifelong fear of flying that prevented her from
touring overseas for the rest of her career.
Which meant her international appearances were
severely limited, a huge constraint on an artist
of her stature. She also navigated significant
personal relationships, mother of four sons.
Clarence, Edward, Ted White Jr., and Kecaf Cunningham.
And her first marriage to Ted White, which was
concurrent with the explosive Atlantic years,
was famously contentious and marred by domestic
abuse. It ended in divorce in 69. Her second
marriage, to actor Glynn Turman, lasted from
1978 to 1984. And these tumultuous personal chapters
certainly inform the depth of feeling she channeled
into songs like Chain of Fools and I Never Loved
a Man. She also battled serious health issues
for decades. A former chain smoker who struggled
with alcoholism, she quit smoking in 1992. In
2010, she underwent surgery for an undisclosed
tumor. And while she denied reports of pancreatic
cancer at the time, she passed away on August
16th, 2018 at age 76. Her cause of death was
confirmed as a malignant pancreatic neuroendocrine
tumor, or PNET, a less common, though still aggressive,
form of pancreatic cancer. Her passing triggered
an outpouring of grief and tribute. Thousands
paid respects during a public lying in repose
in Detroit. Her homegoing service was monumental,
with performances by Stevie Wonder and Jennifer
Hudson and appearances by former President Bill
Clinton. But the funeral was not without a final
characteristic moment of controversy. At Aretha's
request, Reverend Jasper Williams Jr., who had
eulogized her father, delivered the farewell.
But his eulogy was criticized by the family.
Her nephew Vaughn complained that Williams spoke
for 50 minutes and at no time did he properly
eulogize her. Instead, the speech veered into
what was widely perceived as a political address.
So even in her final moment of public ceremony,
The sacred and the political, the personal and
the public, were colliding in a way that defined
her entire life. The enduring legacy of Aretha
Franklin goes beyond the hits, beyond the charts,
and beyond the titles. It rests fundamentally
on her technical prowess and her ability to weave
together the fabric of American musical history.
She is rightly described as the quintessential
soul artist. Richie Unterberger noted that she
was one of the giants of soul music, and indeed
of American pop as a whole, epitomizing soul
at its most gospel -charged core. But let's dig
into the technical side of that genius. What
specifically made her voice so untouchable? First,
the sheer instrument. A powerful mezzo -soprano
voice, but with unparalleled flexibility. She
was a master of gospel vocal runs and melisma,
that stretching of a single syllable over multiple
notes that she deployed with precision and emotional
timing. But what truly set her apart was her
rhythmic intelligence. Yes, that concept, rhythmic
intelligence, is crucial to understanding her
genius. It is. David Revnick pointed out that
what distinguished her was her way of singing
behind the beat, of spraying a wash of notes
over a single word or syllable. Most singers
strive to hit the beat exactly. Aretha would
sometimes deliberately lag, pull back, or push
ahead of the established rhythm. And this created
an incredible tension and release, injecting
a palpable sense of improvisation and urgency
into every track, particularly on her Atlantic
recordings. And we have to loop back to her piano
playing. It wasn't just accompaniment. It was
the foundation of her arrangements. Exactly.
The critic Randy Lewis called her piano playing
magic and inspirational. She didn't rely on outside
arrangers to dictate her feeling for a song.
She used the keyboard to anchor her powerful
voice, allowing her to spontaneously shift the
dynamics and structure in real time. That combination
of instrumental command and vocal genius gave
her the confidence and authority to transform
something like Otis Redding's Respect into an
entirely new creation. The synthesis of sound
was so eloquently captured by President Barack
Obama. who stated that she embodies more fully
the connection between the African -American
spiritual, the blues, R &B, rock and roll, the
way that hardship and sorrow were transformed
into something full of beauty and vitality and
hope. And that transformation of hardship into
hope is the core of her activist legacy. Absolutely.
Beyond the music, her impact on the civil rights
and women's rights movements was enormous. She
grew up steeped in activism. And she didn't just
sing the songs, she provided crucial, tangible
support. The sources confirmed she provided financial
aid for civil rights groups, covering payroll
when funds were low, performing at countless
benefits and protests. She weaponized her fame
and her income for the movement. And she took
bold, public political stands. Famously, in 1970,
she publicly offered to pay the bail for political
activist and philosopher Angela Davis, who was
jailed at the time on questionable charges. And
her quote from that time is fantastic. She said
she would help see Davis go free, saying, I've
been locked up and I know you got to disturb
the peace when you can't get no peace. That quote
equating personal struggle with the need for
political confrontation is quintessential Aretha.
And her actions were consistent right up until
the end. Her decision not to participate in President
Donald Trump's 2017 inauguration was viewed by
many as a powerful mass act of musical protest.
aligning her with a lifetime of political statements
made through her art and her choices. The sources
also highlight her quiet but strong support of
Native American rights worldwide. The list of
formal honors she received is just immense, covering
every facet of American culture. She broke ground
by becoming the first female artist inducted
into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1987.
She was also inducted into the Gospel Music Hall
of Fame and the National Women's Hall of Fame.
She received the Presidential Medal of Freedom
in 2005, the Kennedy Center Honors in 1994, and
numerous Grammy honors, including the Living
Legend and Lifetime Achievement Awards. But perhaps
the ultimate most academic recognition came posthumously
in 2019. The Pulitzer Prize jury awarded her
a special citation for her indelible contribution
to American music and culture for more than five
decades. That Pulitzer is monumental. It signifies
the mainstream American establishment, recognizing
that popular music specifically. African -American
spiritual soul and R &B traditions holds the
same artistic and cultural weight as classical
or jazz compositions. And she was the first individual
woman to receive such a citation, confirming
that her work transcended mere entertainment
and should be considered foundational American
art. And the tributes continued beyond the formal
institutions. Her voice was declared a Michigan
natural resource in 1985. In 2017, a portion
of Madison Street in Detroit was renamed Aretha
Franklin Way. Even New York City subway stations
that shared her name paid tribute after her death
with respect stickers added next to the Franklin
name signs at Franklin Street and Franklin Avenue.
And in a nod to her truly global and lasting
impact, Asteroid 249516 was named Aretha in her
honor in 2014. She truly left an indelible mark
on American culture, transcending genre, politics,
and generations. Clive Davis said she understood
the essence of both language and melody and was
able to take it to a place very few, if any,
could. The sources universally crown her a musical
genius unmatched in her range, power, and soul.
So we've traced the arc of a revolutionary career,
from the profound spiritual foundation forged
in C .L. Franklin's famous Detroit church, through
the immense personal burdens of early motherhood
and loss, to the strategic struggles at Columbia.
We saw the explosive creative partnership with
Jerry Wexler at Atlantic and her necessary reinvention
for the MTV generation under Clive Davis. Her
voice was never just an instrument. It was a
vessel that carried the weight of American history,
transforming deep hardship and sorrow into beauty,
vitality and hope. She served simultaneously
as a feminist rallying cry, a civil rights leader
and a musical genius who never lost her rhythmic
intelligence or that spontaneous gospel fire
across five decades. So when you reflect on the
sheer force of the Queen of Soul, you should
always remember the profound symbolism embedded
in her actions, especially that final glorious
public declaration at the Kennedy Center Honors
in 2015. The moment she dramatically dropped
that fur coat was so much more than just showmanship.
It was a defiant, deeply. felt gesture that simultaneously
honored a contemporary artist like carol king
while echoing the sacred defiant gospel tradition
of casting off mortal sorrow and pain and this
duality the sacred power forged in the church
combined with the spectacular unparalleled performance
skill of a global icon that is the singular defining
essence of aretha franklin something for you
to mull over the next time you hear that phenomenal
voice demanding and earning it's r -e -s -p -e
-c -t