At a record show, I have achieved minor infamy by being the guy who, when asked what he’s looking for, usually responds with “garage and gospel”. Those genres may seem to be polar opposites, but I like the latter best when it is as raw and gritty as the former. Also, I try to not regard any type of music as belonging only to one race or another, with the exception that gospel is, in my mind, exclusively Black. When performed by any other group, such as the very White church of my youth, it is Christian, holy, religious, etc. Gospel is forged in the crucible unique to the Black American experience and a history rooted in inequitable treatment. It is something I can only appreciate as an outside observer.
There is a long history of artists starting in the church and then transitioning to secular music, including such stars as Sam Cooke and Whitney Houston. Aretha Franklin followed that same path. As the daughter of Rev. C.L. Franklin, it was a given she would begin as a gospel artist. Inspired by the transition made by Cooke, she spent years struggling with label Columbia Records, which clearly did not know what to do with her. 1966 brought her to Atlantic Records, which definitely did know how to best utilize her talents.
By 1972, she had eleven consecutive R&B #1 singles. She also was ready to make a return, however briefly, to the music of her formative years. On the nights of January 13th and 14th, she performed gospel music at L.A.’s New Temple Missionary Baptist Church, accompanied by some studio musicians with which she regularly worked, the Reverend James Cleveland and the Southern California Community Choir.
The music was captured on the two-LP set Amazing Grace, which is likely the top selling gospel album of all time. A movie of footage captured during the recordings was also planned at the time, but technical issues prevented the syncing of video to audio. When digital editing finally made completion possible in this century, legal challenges presented by the artist herself prevented release of the same-titled picture until after her death in 2018.
Despite such a significant passing of time, I wonder if she was feeling conflicted about those performances. She initially appears apprehensive in much of the footage from the first night. Then, there is suddenly a moment in that first number, Marvin Gaye’s “Wholy Holy” where she is clearly swept away by the power of the music. It is a beautiful and startling transition, yet she would still appear guarded at times.
Admittedly, the environment is odd. Just as the performers with her are a mix of the holy and the secular, just having several camera operators and all the related equipment in a church turns what would normally be solely a religious service into a different experience.
Consider James Garfield’s introduction, in which he reminds people they are in a church. He also informs the congregation the concert is being recorded, so there could be more than one take. He asks that, if somebody yells “amen”, and there should be a do-over, that they try to do the same again at the same point. Seems to me it would be difficult to remember at which point your spontaneous outbursts of emotions occurred, and that they won’t be truly inspired the next time around.
There doesn’t appear to be too much trickery here. The flashiest bit of editing is some split-screen work. Given the difficulties which prevented anybody from even attempting to assemble the footage in nearly four decades, my kudos to the people who made this so effortless to watch. One moment flashbacks to a rehearsal earlier in the day of Clara Ward’s “How I Got Over”, only to transition flawlessly to the performance of the same that night.
Ward would actually be in attendance on the second night. So would Franklin’s father, C.L. Franklin. I found it hard not to intuit some conflicting emotions as she watches him speak. Also in attendance that night are Mick Jagger and Charlie Watts. At one point, Watts has a grin so wide that I thought the corners of his mouth might come together in the back of his head and cause the top of his head to fall off. I wonder if this experience in any way inspired them to do “I Just Want to See His Face” on that year’s Exile on Main St., the most gospel-tinged track in their oeuvre.
Amazing Grace is a joyous experience. As a fan of gospel, I knew I was predisposed to liking it. What I didn’t expect was to be moved by an unexpected mash-up of “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” and Carole King’s “You’ve Got a Friend”. I found myself in one of those odd moments where something bypassed all critical thoughts, slipping past the intellectual barricades and moving me deeply. It was bewildering, and even a bit scary, to find myself crying hard during this number. Such is the power of gospel, that it can move even this Caucasian Atheist. The best part is I have no idea how.
Dir: Alan Elliott and Sydney Pollack
Watched on blu-ray (which didn’t have any special features, natch)