Try to interview Solomon Burke.
Try to get straight answers out of the man when you can't talk for all the laughing you're doing.
Try to gain the upper hand over the King-the King of Rock 'n' Soul.
Try to follow a neat question-and-answer template, to trace his career from his youth in West Philadelphia, to his first record contract in 1954, to his improbable comeback in 2002.
Try to stop the momentum of the more-than-300-pound singer, as he effuses happiness, soul, swagger, Christian rhetoric and charisma in a deep, mellifluous preacher's baritone.
Yeah, try to interview Solomon Burke.
It's enough to make you wonder how Page Auditorium will contain him during his appearance Saturday night, part of Duke Performances' Soul Power series.
"We're going to take it from one end of the spectrum to the other, from the gospel to the country, and you can't ask for any more than that," Burke promises. "We're just gonna spiritually rock that place."
We? He's referring to himself and soul-gospel singers the Dixie Hummingbirds, who not only are the other half of this weekend's twinbill, but were the group backing Burke when he won his first record deal, 54 years ago.
Burke's set will consist mostly of audience requests (he's taking them through his Web site, which invites you to "send a message to the King."), he says, because "without my audience, I'm nothing."
In fact, Burke argues that the only thing that makes him different from the man on the street-aside from his imposing visage-is the fact that people will pay to listen to him sing.
"You know how many 'artists' there are at home, who no one's ever heard? That's why American Idol's so popular," he says. "We all have soul inside us. We release it and it becomes a star. We all need light!"
Burke's own star rose in the 1960s when he was recording for the Atlantic label. Although he never so much as cracked the Top 20, he produced a steady stream of music, including "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love"-covered by everyone from the Rolling Stones to the Jerry Garcia Band, but perhaps best known for appearing in The Blues Brothers.
The gritty, soul side of his music has always been leavened with a healthy dollop of gospel. When he's not on the road, Burke is a minister (he's also worked as an undertaker), and even on the record, he often introduces songs with sermon-like exhortations. But for him, there is a continuum spanning from his work preaching God's word to even the most sensual soul strain.
"[It's the same as] my job is as a minister, to communicate, on a nonsectarian basis," he says of his songs. "Not condemning people to hell or making sure everyone has wings, but making sure everyone has understanding and a sense of love in their hearts. And once they get that in their heart, they realize that God is love. To sing these songs, these songs are important, because without expressing these songs, without reminding people of the magic of these songs, we don't have an opportunity to express that God is love and love is God. That's why we all need to come together. We've been through enough in this great country. We believe in the dollar; we should believe in the Holla-the word of God, that is-not just 'in God we trust,' but if we believe in God, then we must believe that he can do things that are impossible, to make the world a better place for our children and your children."
Long pause.
"Now I'm preaching, and I wasn't supposed to preach, but I can't help it, it's natural," Burke chuckles.
Like his music, he explains, it's a product of an upbringing in the church. But instinct alone couldn't sustain Burke's career during the bleak musical decades of the 1980s and '90s. Although he continued releasing records, Burke's career had lost some luster.
That all changed in 2002, when singer-songwriter Joe Henry gathered a group of Burke's fans to write songs for him to perform on a new record. Those fans? Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Brian Wilson, Van Morrison and even Bob Dylan. The critically acclaimed disc, Don't Give Up On Me, launched a new period in Burke's career.
The King's most recent release, Nashville, delivers 14 country songs, including duets with Emmylou Harris and Gillian Welch. What's a soul man doing crooning country? Burke traces a lifelong appreciation for the genre to a childhood enthusiasm for the music of Gene Autry.
Besides, he reasons, "Soul" isn't really a genre. When asked to define it, he asks that a reporter name a song he likes. When the reporter foolishly names a fast Charlie Parker bebop line, Burke demands that he sing it. After three minutes of back and forth, Burke gets his way and the reporter makes a lame attempt. Burke then immediately sings back a scatted-and greasy-version of his own.
"Just taking what you give to me and giving it back-you just sang to me what you felt in your soul," he says. "Soul is something coming from within, It doesn't matter if you're a soul cook or a soul singer or a soul dancer or a soul producer, you're going to be expressing that. Soul is not just a package-it's something that you're born with, something that's real within you."
Solomon Burke and the Dixie Hummingbirds perform Saturday night at 8 p.m. in Page Auditorium. See www.dukeperformances.org for more details.
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