watch what you do to me

If the south side of Chicago could sing then its silky, sickly sound would come rolling off a gravelly tongue dipped in a pool of steaming, hot butter. And the tongue would belong to Syl Johnson. I photographed him backstage a while back for numero group and as he went further into the night, further into a drunken shell, out came that incredible voice, wrapped tightly in his anger and displacement within society, a saville row suit now frayed and tattered. With race soaked hits like 'Because I'm Black' taking on a new discomfort (all white band, all white audience, soon after Obama's inauguration) the staggering performance was both gorgeous and cringe-worthy. During the final song, the entire review shared microphones to belt out 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' by the Rolling Stones. It was a mess, and they were one mic short. Without microphone, Syl tried to maneuver around the stage into the spotlight, but was basically kept to the back, and off the tune. I couldn't help but think it was strategic. Even though it was his show.

But most poignant was the moment I was lucky enough to witness just before he went on stage. It took place over the course of maybe eight seconds. Here was a man who had traveled the world and had the marks to prove it. Al Green originally wrote 'Take Me To The River' for him - showing a promise that the music industry only experienced in vapor form. Here was a man who once wore silk and gold and sequins. And here he was. In a dank stairwell of a small venue of neither historic significance nor consequence. He seemed confused, disappointed, tired. Wasted. And then something just changed. A wire crossed inside his soul and all of that pain dropped like a heavyweight's robe in the ring. His body tightened straight up, sharp, like a razor. He became electric. He became electricity defined. He readied himself for something that I could only pretend to understand.

They hadn't even introduced him, but he couldn't wait a single second more. And then he said, 'Fuck it. Let's go.' And he took the stage.