Aretha: the Queen of Soul, and the viral video
Aretha Franklin was a legendary singer, a pioneering arranger and producer and, not least, an important figure in the fight for civil rights.
She was also — stay with me here — a master of the modern viral video.
Think about this: In the last few years of her life, which ended Aug. 16 when she died of advanced pancreatic cancer at age 76, where did you most often encounter the Queen of Soul? Chances are it was some priceless clip that somebody shared: the time a camera caught her seemingly brushing off Patti LaBelle in a crowd, for instance, or the video interview in which she was asked what she thought of Taylor Swift as a singer.
“Great gowns,” she replied. “Beautiful gowns.”
There were also, needless to say, pieces of video depicting Franklin’s musical genius, including a long, churchy rendition of the national anthem at a 2016 football game and the ne plus ultra of Aretha Franklin internet content: her mind-blowing performance of “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman” at the Kennedy Center Honors in 2015.
This was the gig where Carole King could be seen freaking out in the audience as she watched Franklin transform her tune into a religious rite. The gig in which she brought down the house by getting up from behind her piano and tossing her fur coat to the floor. The gig that famously made President Obama wipe a tear from his cheek as he took it all in.
But you already know that, of course. Like everyone else, you’ve seen the video.
Part of what these clips tell us — one of the things I’ve been thinking about as I’ve rewatched them this week — is how well Franklin understood the way show business works. They make clear everything she learned from her father, the flashy and beloved Rev. C.L. Franklin, about gripping an audience with all the tools at one’s disposal.
But they also demonstrate her ability, crucial to a career in pop, to communicate an enormous amount of information in a small amount of time. Like her songs, the videos put across so much about Franklin: her attitude, her resilience, her sensitivity and, yes, her unequaled voice, which itself was a kind of living compendium of American musical traditions, from gospel to jazz to blues to show tunes to funk.
Everything she did, whether an old-school spiritual or a sleek R&B jam, carried the unmistakable essence of Aretha.
Her careful tailoring of her image is another way, beyond her preternatural instinct for the viral video, that Franklin seemed more modern than her contemporaries, many of whom had no interest in (or at least no flair for) the type of brand maintenance that now is second nature for any celebrity.
She knew what worked within the persona she’d cultivated — and because that persona was so vivid, she knew it could withstand any number of shifts in musical style. Franklin never stopped caring about commercial success; she paid attention to the marketplace and sought out collaborators with proven juice.
For “A Rose Is Still a Rose,” she recruited Lauryn Hill and Puff Daddy, and she sounded great — she still sounds great — in their hip-hop-informed productions. The players had changed, but in her mind the game remained the same: Make it Aretha, or don’t make it at all.