Again, an obit, but no tears, really. Jerry Wexler was 91, after all, and God knows, he lived an amazing life.
Where to begin documenting Wexler's astonishing achievments? As a reporter for Billboard he coined the term "rhythm and blues" to describe the type of music he loved, and would soon help create. As co-head of Atlantic Records from 1953 to 1975, he did it all: Wexler produced seminal sides from Ray Charles, Wilson Pickett and many, many more; he signed Aretha Frankin, encouraging her to find her own voice; he signed great songwriters and producers like Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, whose series of string-drenched recordings showcasing The Drifters virtually invented soul music; he helped found the Muscle Souls Rhythm Section, and created one of the most distinctive sounds in music history; he convinced The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin to form their own labels as subsidiaries of Atlantic, where they'd make the greatest music of their careers; he worked with everyone from Bob Dylan to the B-52s to Willie Nelson to Dr. John.
He thrived on music as the rest of us mortals live on oxygen, and the soundscape of the twentieth century is simply inconceivable without him. However, if I had to name my favorite of all of Wexler's accomplishments, there's no question: Dusty In Memphis.
Accounts vary as to whether Dusty Springfield first contacted Wexler or the other way around. Certainly the British thrush was seeking some kind of street cred, and Wexler without question loved her voice. In any event, not to downplay Springfield's awesome work or that of the album's co-producers, Arif Mardin (who provided the drop-dead gorgeous string arrangements) and Tom Dowd (who provided the astonishingly clear sound, as he did for so many Atlantic recordings), Dusty In Memphis is very much Wexler's album. He selected much of the material (lots of songs by Gerry Goffin & Carole King, plus two contributions from then-unknown Randy Newman), and he saw the album as an integrated whole, not so much a vehicle for Springfield but an opportunity to use her beautiful, distinctive voice as another instrument, the most prominent part of an aural landscape but not its sole purpose for existence.
Listen to this cut, No Easy Way Down, and how that organ intro from Bobby Emmons leads to Reggie Young's guitar, which leads to Mardin's strings kicking in such a fraction of a second before Springfield's vocals. No one of these elements is more important than the other. It's not so much a great song as a great recording, one of the finest ever made, and that was the genius of Jerry Wexler.
