9 hours ago
3
Rockin’ Chair, 90% of Me Is You, All This Love That I’m Givin’, Keep the Fire Burning, Funky Sensation – Gwen McCrae, who has died after a long illness aged 81, sang all these soul-funk anthems and more. Songs that refreshed radio, songs that lit up discos and clubs, songs that saw her called “The Queen of Rare Groove”, songs that were covered and sampled and sound as fresh today as when she originally recorded them in Miami in the 1970s and early 80s.
Gwen Mosley was born in Pensacola, Florida, and grew up singing in church before marrying a sailor she met the week before when he was on shore leave. Her new husband, once free from the navy, insisted they form the duo George & Gwen McCrae in 1963, with Gwen out front. Betty Wright, then a 14-year-old vocal prodigy, brought the couple to soul singer and label owner Steve Alaimo in 1967, who signed them to Alston Records. After the duo’s singles sold only moderately, Gwen signed to Columbia to perform deep southern soul but, when sales flagged again, she returned to Alston and began recording the lighter, more dance-oriented “Miami sound” then fermenting in the city’s TK Studios.
George McCrae would launch the Miami sound worldwide with his 1974 UK No 1 Rock Your Baby – written by KC and the Sunshine Band’s Harry Wayne Casey (KC) and Richard Finch for Gwen. Gwen’s account was that she wanted to help George, whose recording career had dwindled as he supported hers, and told KC they could give him a song – and Alaimo picked out Rock Your Baby. “I thought: ‘Not that one, you dummy!’”, she later said. By 1976, her marriage had badly soured. “You know when you’re hurting, when someone’s hurting you, you just can’t do nothing,” she said. “You feel helpless.” She would also refer to George as a mere “sperm donor” for their children.
But through her heartache, working closely with Wright, KC, Willie “Little Beaver” Hale, Clarence Reid and Willie Clarke, Gwen cut a sublime run of 45s. Her powerful, throaty voice backed by Little Beaver’s chiming, funky guitar licks and TK’s effervescent house band (which could include Timmy “Why Can’t We Live Together” Thomas), made for dance music with emotional depth. Rockin’ Chair, with its propulsive groove and McCrae’s caressing vocal, crossed over to No 9 in the Billboard pop charts – her biggest hit. The emotive, distinctive 90% of Me Is You and All This Love That I’m Givin’ – later sampled to hit-making effect by the French dance duo Cassius – are also landmark recordings.
After TK and its associated label crashed in 1981 – co-owner Henry Stone claimed the disco backlash undermined his labels and led to banks refusing to extend his loans – Gwen signed to Atlantic. Her last US chart placing was Funky Sensation in 1981 – a meagre No 60 on the R&B charts – yet she found a new lease of life when invited to Britain in the mid-1980s, where she was idolised by rare groove fans and became an in-demand live performer. Later albums for small UK and US labels demonstrated McCrae’s striking voice had lost none of its sparkle, but she never again troubled the charts.
Beyond her legion of loyal British soul boys and girls, McCrae never won the wider recognition she deserved. TK’s back catalogue was not well-served for decades – Stone’s bankruptcy meant he lost control of it – and McCrae would, alongside other Black artists that recorded for the label, complain they were never properly remunerated. The Miami sound has also rarely received the attention from music historians and collectors that Detroit’s Motown and Memphis’s Stax and Hi labels have. Why? Possibly because TK’s biggest artist, KC and the Sunshine Band, sold millions of records to pop fans. Or the Miami sound got disparaged as “disco” when that genre was widely regarded as déclassé by gatekeepers. Alaimo’s death last November received dismayingly little attention.
Things may now be changing, with British label Soul Jazz’s Miami Sound albums Volumes 1 & 2 being well-received and containing McCrae tunes – a snippet of a discography charged with pain and wonder in equal measure. “The only time I’m really happy is when I’m on that stage, in front of my audience,” McCrae said in 1997. “Then I’m the happiest woman in the world.”
