Category: People

Broadway star Nick Cordero and his wife, Amanda Kloots, were happily raising their young family until COVID-19 changed everything. 

Nick Cordero poses on the red carpet. The actor, 41, died due to COVID-19 this June. 

My grandmother, Kate Yungblut, is a wonderfully spiritual woman. One of her most closely held beliefs is that bad things come in threes. That belief has passed right down through the maternal line in my family, from my grandmother’s mother down to my own mother. They all like to say that it is something their mothers used to tell them, but they all really believe it. Well, so did I, until the year 2020, when we have been bombarded with so many possible bad things, the number three seems laughable. The COVID pandemic is the paramount issue, although it can hardly count as only one part of the “bad thing” trinity. To date, COVID in the US has taken more than 240,000 people. One of them, was Nick Cordero.

Cordero was born in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, a tough town on the shores of Lake Ontario that would not look out of place in the American Midwest. Cordero attended high school in Hamilton before leaving to attend Ryerson University in downtown Toronto. Like so many performers, Cordero didn’t finish his stint at the school, and soon left to join a band. It was many years until he would achieve his eventual career as a mainstay on Broadway.

Cordero got his break in 2012, serving as a replacement for Rock of Ages on Broadway. Soon after, in 2014, Cordero performed as Cheech in Bullets Over Broadway, a story about  a playwright who gets entangled with mobsters and dramatic riffraff. Cordero was rewarded for his efforts on the production, earning a Tony nomination for Best Featured Actor in a Musical.

The actor made his television debut around this time, appearing in the CBS show Blue Bloods, among other shows. Meanwhile, he continued to play music, and would eventually release his own solo projects, including the single “Live Your Life.”

Two years later, Cordero graced the stage again, this time as Earl in Waitress, a story of a small-town baker who considered entering an out of town cooking contest . Cordero jumped back in the limelight for his most recent role as the lead in A Bronx Tale the Musical. The show grossed more than 68 million dollars in total, and Cordero earned nominations for Outstanding Actor in a Musical from both the Drama Desk awards, and the Outer Critics Circle.

While Nick was well on his way to establishing his career at the center of the Musical world, he was also making some life changing moves off the stage. In 2017, Cordero tied the knot with Amanda Kloots, a celebrity fitness trainer and former actress, whom Nick met when they both acted in Bullets Over Broadway. Kloots, who now runs a jump rope fitness class, would so tragically become a public figure this past year, when she shared moments from her husband’s battle with the Coronavirus. Kloots and Cordero welcomed their only child, Elvis, in June of 2019, just months before their lives would be turned upside down.

Cordero and Kloots began their nightmare on March 30^th, 2020. Nick was admitted to the hospital that day, just weeks after lockdowns began around the country, while the pandemic was still in its early stage in the US. Nick’s health was deteriorating rapidly. However, Kloots remained steadfast in her optimism. On one instance, her post showed a screenshot of Elvis Presley’s, Got a Lot O’ Livin to Do, and encouraged her followers to sing the tune in support of her husband.

Nick’s condition worsened by the day, and the tone of Kloots’ posts showed her increasing anguish. In April, Cordero was put on an ECMO machine, a machine that helps to support the heart artificially. Unable to actually see her dying husband in person, Kloots was left to sharing her experiences on social media, with heartbreaking hashtags like #wakeupnick. Her chronicles show the ups and downs of a man fighting for his life. Small victories were celebrated when they happened, but it was clear that Nick was fighting for his life.

Some of her posts, like the one posted on May 8^th, describe just how horrifying and scary Cordero’s health situation was.

“Nick is 41 years old,” she writes, “he had no pre-existing health conditions. We do not know how he got COVID-19 but he did. He went to the ER on March 30^th, and intubated on a ventilator on April 1.” She goes on to describe the list of complications that ravaged her husband’s body, including an infection that caused his heart to stop, two mini strokes, dialysis, and multiple surgeries on his leg that ultimately led to the amputation of his right leg. But the list continued on, with the actor facing brain damage, multiple operations to clear out his lungs, to the finding of holes in his lungs, and the implementation of a pacemaker to keep his heart beating. All of this happened in the 38 days after he was first admitted to the hospital. I may not be fully versed in my grandmother’s rule of threes, but it seems a guarantee that Cordero and Kloots had blown right past the trinity.

Two months later, Nick’s condition was no better. On June 25^th, Kloots wrote, “Nick is profoundly weak,” a statement that reads like a punch to the gut. At that point, Cordero was interacting only with his eyes, moving them up or down. The rest of his body was useless.

Finally, on July 5^th, Kloots reported that Nick had died. By any possible measure, it was far too soon for him to go, and added a tally to the list of tragedies during this bizarre and miserable year.

In a twist of fate, one of Cordero’s lasting gifts to the world was a song he wrote entitled Live Your Life. The song sends a powerful and clear message, along with a lively guitar playing throughout the tune. Without context, the song is a mainstream pop-song with a theatrical feel. But in context of Cordero’s fight with COVID, the song and its lyrics feel ever so poignant.

“You’ve got your plans, I’ve got mine” sings Cordero. The hook continues “live your life / like you’ve got one night / live your life.” The song was a rallying cry for Kloots and Cordero’s fans as the Family did everything they could to keep Nick alive. Kloots sang the song daily on Instagram, and was joined by supporters around the country. Live Your Life became a slogan of sorts for Nick to continue his fight, and for those around him to cherish the life they enjoyed.

Cordero and Kloots’ horrible embodiment of 2020 continued with a frustrating episode this fall. Just months after the healthy, young actor died at the hands of the virus, President Donald Trump had his own stint with the virus. The story is well known, but Trump declined to take his hospital visit as a chance to sympathize with families who lost loved ones to COVID. Instead, he urged Americans “don’t let it dominate you.” Kloots took to social media in a teary response to the commander in chief.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to walk out of the hospital after two days” she said through tears. “Let it dominate your life? No one is letting it. Nick didn’t let it. It wasn’t a choice. It dominated his life, it dominated my life, it dominated our family’s lives, for 95 days. And because he didn’t make it, it will forever effect my life.” While the lack of compassion from the Oval Office is unsurprising, it is no less heartbreaking to watch a wife and young mother grieve from losing her husband while citizens and politicians around the country continue to insist that the virus is no more than a common flu.

What does it mean to “live your life?” Kloots urges her followers to distance, wear masks, and practice distancing. Living your life emphatically does not mean that we should all do what we want. Instead, Kloots sends a message on behalf of her late husband, someone who never got the chance to finish what he started. Do what you love, cherish your family, and never take a day for granted. It is a helpful reminder as this pandemic rages on, that losing university semesters, athletic events, and social interactions are a small price to pay. Families like Nick’s are more than circles on a COVID map. They are more than statistics in a chart, or part of some politician’s daily update. They are real families, with horrifying stories that deserve to be told. More importantly, these stories deserve to be taken to heart, and actions need to be taken to ensure we limit the number of similar tales.

Nick defied odds throughout his life. From a steel town in southwestern Ontario to the most important proving ground in theatre, Cordero’s talent was matched only by his resiliency. He had more music in him, and the world is worse without getting to hear it.

Live Your Life ends with the lyrics “They’ll give you hell but don’t you let them kill your light / not without a fight / live your life.” Nick fought an incredible fight, and alongside his wife, his light will live on far past this most strange year.

Through a career filled with international opera fame, Christiane Eda-Pierre inspired and opened doors for Black classical musicians everywhere.

Christiane Eda-Pierre, a champion of Baroque theatre and champion of Black excellence, has died at the age of 88 on September 6, 2020. As France’s first Black international opera star, Eda-Pierre overcame racial barriers to pursue a successful career filled with critical acclaim. The French coloratura’s strong, agile, emotion-filled voice moved opera fans around the world. While she flourished in any role she embarked upon, her precision and flexibility in Baroque opera catapulted her into the international spotlight. Christiane Eda-Pierre was not simply another classical star; rather, she showed the world how a Black immigrant woman could infiltrate the ranks of and thrive in a White-dominated, elitist field.

The opera diva’s clear voice, her greatest strength, propelled her into numerous roles. Across a rich and varied career, Eda Pierre’s most popular recording on Spotify, with 19,046 plays, is “Vous soupirez, madame?,” from Berlioz’s Beatrice et Benedicte. Her voice floats effortlessly above the contralto, Helen Watts’s, voice, with careful ornamentation and bright color. Critics commented most frequently on not her acting, but her singing. According to the New York Times, Eda-Pierre “displayed a clear voice backed by good coloratura equipment and a very strong top.” The Chicago Tribune agreed, describing Eda-Pierre’s voice as “a clean lyric soprano with a slightly metallic edge to it,” filled with “delicacy and dramatic fervor when needed.”

Despite these outstanding reviews of her talents, other critics took the liberty of commenting on her race first. In 1981, the New York Amsterdam Times opened their review of the Verdi performances in New York City with the following statement: “Four unusually fine Black singers were cast in recent productions of Verdi Productions in the New York area.” There is no doubt that had a white person been cast in those roles, the reviewer for the New Amsterdam Times would not have begun with a pointed notice of their race, much less call them “unusually fine.” Although Eda-Pierre, among these other skillful Black singers, often had to endure commentary on her race first, and talents second, she prevailed against such prejudice and gained wide critical acclaim in the opera world.

Given her superlative ability to ornament passages with elegance, Eda-Pierre thrived in Mozart and French Baroque operas. She performed roles in many of Jean-Philippe Rameau’s operas, including Les Indes galantes (1962), Les Boréades (1964), and Zoroastre (1964). Through these performances, as well as her role in the first public performance of Rameau’s Dardanus, Eda-Pierre secured her place in the French opera stage and helped a movement to revive Rameau’s music. On tour with the Paris Opera at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1976, Eda-Pierre alternated nights with Welsh soprano Margaret Price as the Countess in Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro. This performance is now regarded as one of her greatest, but the New York Times’s John Rockwell felt that she lacked “that final solidarity of breath support that distinguishes great singers” and did not live up to the expectations of the other cast members.

This review did not deter her success on the international stage, however, as just four years later, Eda-Pierre went on to make her official Metropolitan Opera debut as Konstanze in Mozart’s The Abduction From the Seraglio. In contrast to their earlier remarks, the New York Times raved about this performance. “Any soprano who can sing Konstanze’s ‘Martern aller Arten’ decently is a better-than-average singer, and Miss Eda-Pierre’s accomplishments with this fiendish aria were far better than decent.” In the 1980 and 1981 seasons at the Met, Eda-Pierre went on to participate in sixteen performances, including as Gilda in Verdi’s Rigoletto and Antonia in Offenbach’s Les contes d’Hoffmann. These performances were just as widely successful. Rigoletto in Central Park drew a crowd of between 150,000 and 300,000. Writing in The Guardian, Barry Millington described her interpretation of Antonia as having “a real sense of drama and a plenitude of tone that contrasted favourably with the mechanical delivery of decoration and pitchpipe timbre of some notable exponents of the role.”

The Baroque talent’s roles were not limited to Baroque opera, however. She performed in a vast variety of roles, from canonical operas in the standard repertoire to contemporary works. These newer pieces include roles in Chaynes’s oratorio Pour un monde noir (1979), which was composed specifically for Eda-Pierre, as well as Erszebet (1983). Notably, in 1983 she created the angel role — sung by a soprano but referred to in the libretto as “he” — in Olivier Messaien’s Saint François d’Assise. Messaien had Eda-Pierre specifically in mind as he wrote this role, and she proved his instincts right. Her ability to sustain long, high notes with elegance served her well in this role, as she maintained careful control over her timbre to create a warm, not shrill, tone. Though her voice floats, it does so with depth and passion. After this performance with the Paris Opera at the Palais Garnier, it was not staged again for nearly ten years. These contemporary performances elucidate how Eda-Pierre, much to the dislike of racist critics, thrived in not only standard roles, but also stood at the frontiers of innovation in opera.

Eda-Pierre was born March 24, 1932 on the French-owned Caribbean island of Martinique. She grew up in an accomplished family that inspired her with their musical and professional endeavors. Her father, William, was a journalist, and her mother, Alice, was a piano teacher who brought music into her life from a young age. Her grandfather, Paul Nardal, was Martinique’s first Black engineer. Furthermore, Eda-Pierre’s aunt, Paulette Nardal, was the first Black woman to study at the Sorbonne, one of the world’s oldest universities. Nardal, who played an important role in the development of Black literary consciousness and Negritude, spent her professional life introducing Black culture to White elites, much like Eda-Pierre would go on to do with opera. Nardal also pursued international projects, as she introduced French intellectuals to the poetry of the Harlem Renaissance. Eda-Pierre’s home environment served as a place of cultivation for professional excellence and promoting Black culture in white spaces.

In 1950, she immigrated to Paris to advance her musical education, and in 1954 enrolled at the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique et de Danse (Paris Conservatory). She had originally planned to study piano there, following in her mother’s footsteps. However, the budding pianist soon switched to voice after her teacher, Jean Planel, heard her sing and encouraged her to pursue this talent. At the Paris Conservatory, Eda-Pierre studied under Swiss baritone Charles Panzera. With his guidance, she flourished at the school, winning a first prize of singing and lyric art. As one of the first Black students at the Conservatory, she had to work against racism to prove herself as a capable singer. In 2013, Eda-Pierre detailed her experience at the conservatory: “My eyes almost popped out of my head because I was like, ‘Me, a black girl at the Conservatory, it’s just not possible.’” It was more than possible, though, since in 1957, she graduated with honors.

The same year, Eda-Pierre made her opera debut with the Opera de Nice as Leila in Bizet’s Les Pêcheurs de Perles, a role she later took to America in 1966 to make her American debut with the Chicago Lyric Opera. After her first performance, she soon after earned the title role in Delibes’s Lakmé with the Opéra Comique. These early performances catapulted her to fame not only in France, but around the globe. The New York Times took note of her role as Lakmé in particular. “She breathed such life into the faded orientalism of ‘Lakmé’ that London’s leading music critic, Andrew Porter of The Financial Times, wrote after a detailed rave, ‘We must hear more of this remarkable singer!’”

Eda-Pierre performed in opera houses around the world, touring with French opera companies and earning roles in these cities’ own opera companies. Highlights from her international career include performances in Berlin, Hamburg, London, Lisbon, Wexford, Vienna, Salzburg, Moscow, Chicago, and New York. Beloved by the global opera community, Eda-Pierre took every opportunity to use her career to advance Black singers and musicians more broadly.

After retiring from the stage in the mid-1980s, Eda-Pierre dedicated many years to inspiring others in the way that her mentors did her. She became a teacher at the Paris Conservatory while continuing her recital career and engaged students with her impressive experience as a world-renowned opera star and strict pedagogical approach to singing. The Opéra Comique, with which she had performed for twelve years, opened an academy for young musicians in 2012 and gave Eda-Pierre the title of honorary president.

Eda-Pierre’s career had no shortage of impressive roles, and there is no doubt that she played a vital role in advancing the opportunities for Black women in opera. From starting as one of the first Black students at the Paris Conservatory to creating an international name for herself in an impressive array of roles, she exceeded society’s expectations. Her experiences position her as a hero of promoting global Black excellence. Her biographer, Catherine Marceline, noted how Eda-Pierre aimed to advance Black musicians. “[Eda-Pierre] said that the more often we put them on stage, the more it would end up becoming normal.” Throughout her extensive opera career, Eda-Pierre opened up opportunities for her successors, and her voice and integrity were far beyond what one would consider normal.

(AP Photo: John Humphrey)

Folk icon John Prine died earlier this year, leaving behind decades of influential work and a legion of artists who carry on the style he helped pioneer.

John Prine died on April 7, 2020 from complications caused by COVID-19. He was 73 years old.

Often referred to as one of the greatest songwriters in American history, he reached his peak in popularity near the end of his career, and his legacy will continue to grow. He leaves behind his wife and two children, along with every life he invented through his songs. 

Following a stint in the army that would go on to inform much of his writing, Prine began his career in the late 1960s, performing alone with his guitar at open-mic nights at a small Chicago club called the Fifth Peg. He was immediately offered paid gigs, and gained notoriety in the local area following a chance encounter and glowing review from Roger Ebert. He began to play at more clubs across the city, quickly becoming one of the figures in the folk revival scene. 

Prine released his self-titled debut in 1971, garnering little commercial success but establishing himself as one of the most important musicians in folk. The songs were witty, political, and relatable, demonstrating his ability to seamlessly weave haunting tragedy and biting satire with romance and simple beauty. The album was filled with ruminations on war and patriotism, with songs “Your American Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore” and “Sam Stone” criticising America’s actions in Korea and Vietnam, and the government’s exploitation of soldiers. Lyrics like “But your flag decal won’t get you Into Heaven anymore, they’re already overcrowded from your dirty little war” tapped into a disillusion many Americans felt at the time, and resonate currently with American disgust at the wars fought in the middle east for the past twenty years. 

Prine’s song “Illegal Smile” connected with drug users, a group that overlapped greatly with antiwar protestors at the time. Although he later admitted the song wasn’t written about marijuana smoking, the lyrics “And you may see me tonight with an illegal smile, it don’t cost very much, but it lasts a long while. Won’t you please tell the man I didn’t kill anyone, no I’m just trying to have me some fun” spoke to smokers who seeked escapism in the way Prine described. Drug use was a theme across many of the songs in the album, but he often discussed them with a darker tone. 

The themes came together in the standout track “Sam Stone,” a song that told the story of a drug addicted disabled veteran who received a Purple Heart for his time in Vietnam. The tragically beautiful lyric “There’s a hole in Daddy’s arm where all the money goes, Jesus Christ died for nothin’, I suppose” is just one example of Prine’s ability to boil down the tragedy of a universal American experience to a single line. He could connect with anyone who listened to him though, as his dark lyrics came with beautiful, simple chords, and were often cut with humor. “Illegal Smile,” for example, ends with the simple “Well done, hot dog bun, my sister’s a nun,” bringing back his audience from the bleak story he just laid upon them. 

He continued to release music consistently throughout the 1970s, building his commercial success and maintaining his critical stature. He hit the Billboard Hot 100 for the first time with 1975’s  “Come Back to Us Barbara Lewis Hare Krishna Beauregard,” and went on a tour across the country. By the end of the decade though, he had grown disgusted with the exploitation found across the music industry, leading him to found his own label, Oh Boy Records, in 1981. At that point, many of his most well known songs became popular through covers by acts like The Highwaymen. His talent was plainly recognizable to his contemporaries, and through them he began to build a legacy as a “songwriter’s songwriter.” 

He continued to release original albums until 2005’s Fair &Square, after which he took a pause from full length albums. He spent the next decade working with younger artists and performing for younger crowds, filled with a new generation discovering him for themselves for the first time. In 2018, he released his final solo album, The Tree of Forgiveness. The album sold over 50,000 copies in its first week, debuting at #5 on the Billboard album chart, by far his highest ever. His final song, “I Remember Everything,” was a rumination on his career, recounting all of the places he’d performed, artists he’d worked with, and beautiful times he’d experienced throughout his life.

Though he hadn’t released an album of new material for over thirteen years, his profile had grown immensely, in part due to the success of those he mentored in the industry. The album featured contributions from Jason Isbell, Amanda Shires, Dan Auerbach, and Brandi Carlile, all of whom are successful artists who credit Prine as a major inspiration to their own work. It is in this way that Prine’s legacy will continue to grow, constantly exposing him to a new generation of fans, including myself.

When an artist is so influential, there is often a generational delay before the full scope of their influence can be recognized. Although they are not appreciated by most fans during their creative peak, artists take notice, and find great influence in their work. When the next generation finds success, they will bring their idols along with them, leading to a revival of the original work. For Prine, this cycle materialized through his mentorship and shared live performances with many of the most talented artists in current country and folk music. Following his death, Kacey Musgraves said Prine “impacted [her] songwriting more than anyone else.” Sturgill Simpson, Jason Isbell, and Margo Price all participated in tribute concerts for him as well. I mention these four names because they also occupy spots one through four on Paste Magazine’s top country albums of the decade. John Prine helped to shape the modern sound of country music, and his fingerprints can be found across myriad projects, constantly expanding his reach.  

Following this year’s Country Music Awards, Isbell and fellow singer Amanda Shires announced that they would be returning their lifetime memberships to the Country Music Association due to their failure to mention John Prine during the show. The tension between the singers and establishment is emblematic of the gap between Prine’s adoration among the music community and in the general public. For the CMA’s whose goal is to make money and appeal to as wide a reach of people as possible, avoiding Prine is a decision that sacrifices integrity for commercial success. Whether they wanted to avoid discussing the coronavirus due to its politicization, or didn’t want to bring him up due to his anti war and anti republican messaging, they made it clear that many areas of the industry are still lagging behind the innovation Prine has brought since the 70s. This only makes him connect with those who care about more though. Isbell wrote that they were giving up their memberships because “we cared a lot about our heroes.” Sturgill Simpson didn’t hold back in his response, writing “Don’t get it twisted,.. wouldn’t be caught dead at this tacky ass glitter and botox cake & cock pony show even if my chair had a morphine drip. … I just wanted to see if they would say his name but nope.” 

The omission of Prine reflects more on the CMAs than it does on his career. The Grammy’s gave Prine a lifetime achievement award in 2019, and the DNC used his music to soundtrack a tribute to those lost to the Coronavirus, but the show dedicated to country music didn’t mention him. Already facing backlash for advertising the show as a “no drama” night (during a pandemic, massive civil rights movement, and contested election,) the CMAs showed that they care more about appearing accessible than being honest. In a genre built on storytelling, the artists proved that they have the final say in who lives on. I was able to discover Prine through a tribute by Phoebe Bridgers, and then through cover after cover from a dozen other artists I love, regardless of any omissions by the CMAs (a show I would never watch anyway.) Because of the time he spent working with and influencing other artists, his legacy will continue, and his characters will live on. When his self titled debut turns fifty next year, the story of Sam Stone will as well, and every veteran he represents will have their stories told a little bit more thanks to him. This is the legacy of John Prine: by weaving his own truths into songs everyone can relate to, he will live on through the stories told by those he inspired.

Betty Wright’s Soulful Singing Rings On, Even After Her Passing

Betty Wright, the sweet soul singer whose fierce vocals brought Miami funk into the public light and whose musical prowess catapulted the careers of hip-hop legends such as Rick Ross and DJ Khaled, passed away this past May. The 66-year old singer had been battling cancer for months, but her honey-sweet voice will live on for years to come.

Born in Miami in 1953 as Bessie Regina Norris, Betty Wright was immediately surrounded by song. At the age of three, Wright was singing with her family in a gospel group known as “the Echoes of Joy.” “We used to sing in local churches and halls,” said Wright in a 1972 interview, “and we used to make demo discs of some of the religious songs and we’d sell them when ever we appeared at a local hall.” Though she was the youngest, “she could not only sing on key but had a strong, loud voice,” said her brother Philip in an interview with The Glasgow Herald.

Wright’s musical career began early, at around 12 or 13 years old, after she was discovered by two local music producers, Clarence Reid and Willie Clarke. The founder of the small Miami record label Deep City, Clarke heard Wright singing along to “Summertime” by Billie Stewart in his combined record store and recording studio, and knew she had a voice of gold. “The record was down low,” Clarke recounted hearing Wright’s voice for the first time, “but she had overpowered [Stewart’s] lead voice. She just shut down our rehearsal.” She recognized Clarke from the times he had “pick[ed] up Philip for a session,” so she gladly accepted his invitation to sing for him. Wright initially faced opposition from her mother, who was deeply religious and didn’t approve of any music other than gospel. Eventually, however, “she changed her mind and she signed over her agreement and I made my first recordings,” Wright told John Abbey of Blues & Soul in 1972.

In 1967 Wright released her first album, My First Time Around, solidifying herself as a powerful performer at just 14. Wright’s voice chirps on “Funny How Love Grows Cold” and croons on “Sweet Lovin’ Daddy,” demonstrating how versatile the young singer was, even at the very beginning of her career. On the slower “Watch out Love,” Wright’s voice smoothly transitions between notes, fluttering in and out of vibrato before letting out hearty belts. And “I Can’t Stop My Heart” is a timeless ballad that begs listeners to take their paramour by the hand for a late-night dance in one another’s arms. It’s hard to imagine that Wright was able to produce such mature and distinct music at such a young age, but “Wright’s vocal power allowed her to ‘pass’ for a much older singer” which led “[her songwriters to] cast Wright as a worldly woman” according to Oliver Wang, a music reviewer for NPR. “Girls Can’t Do What The Guys Do,” the hit of this first album, features the line “Girls, you can’t do what the guys do – no – and still be a lady,” alluding to the sexist ideology that men can (and should) be promiscuous, but women cannot. Wright entered the music industry by testing the limits of what women should sing about, setting a new standard for the topics of songs for female singers.

Wright’s next big hit came with her 1972 album, I Love the Way You Love, when the song “Clean Up Woman” topped charts. Though Wright said she “didn’t like it too much at first,” the record was an immediate success. Wright credited this to its danceability, saying that “People could dance so easily to it – especially the soul sisters! Now [it’s] sold more than a million copies.” Though people originally mistook the song’s risqué lyrics as Wright’s claim that she could steal a woman’s man and be “a clean up woman,” she reflected upon the lyrics in a 1977 interview with Rolling Stone’s J Swenson and denied that they encourage any raunchy activity, “The song is not telling women to be sinful, but to watch out not to lose their husbands to the ‘Clean Up Woman.’” Whether people agreed with the story of Wright’s song or not, “Clean Up Woman” became “a top 10 hit on multiple charts, and it directly inspired Wright’s future singles ‘Baby Sitter’ (1972), ‘Outside Woman’ (1972) and ‘Secretary’ (1974)” according to Wang. In a 1972 Variety piece, Wright is described as “[adding] her own unique ‘soul’ dimension and some uptempo things that had the room vibrating.” Even in 2020, Betty Wright fans can find videos of her performing this memorable tune on television programs from the 1970s, surrounded by other young people, grooving her smooth vocals. And artists – such as Chance the and Mary J. Blige –  have since sampled the catchy opening guitar riff continuing the legacy of Wright’s career-advancing song about infidelity.

Wright’s next big hits came two years later, on her 1974 album, Danger High Voltage. “Where Is The Love,” a track brimming with the unique sounds of the Miami music scene – beginning with poignant trumpets and energetic bongos – gained popularity thanks to its danceability. As the disco scene emerged, Wright’s Miami funk-infused soul tracks were distinct enough to garner attention and similar enough to disco to draw in diverse crowds. In a 1977 interview with David Nathan of Blues & Soul, Wright explained, “I can sing whatever I want – it doesn’t have to be blues or funk…But the most important thing of all is that it comes straight from the heart, that whatever we do is ‘for real.’” Similarly, “Shoorah! Shoorah!” was a crowd favorite, with its piercing brass line, funky beats, and clapping on the chorus.  In 1975, however, New Musical Express’s Roger St. Pierre stated that “a lot of radio stations have flipped over ‘Shoorah, Shoorah’ and gone for the ballad flip, ‘Tonight Is The Night’.” The latter was perhaps Wright’s first expression of her own story, telling an intimate tale of a young girl preparing to lose her virginity. Wang describes the intimacy in this track brilliantly: “there’s a candor and aching vulnerability that felt more authentically personal.” Wright’s live recording of the song (on her 1978 album Betty Wright Live!) revealed the reality of the track, as she told the audience, “I never intended recording this song. It was a personal poem, that is until the day my producer happened to thumb through the pages of my notebook.” The song still stands as a beautiful ode to womanhood through words and music.

The album that signaled Wright’s transition from young star to mature artist was This Time For Real, released in 1977 and filled with songs about her husband and newborn daughter. This record came at a time when Wright had decided to connect with her faith after being separated from it since entering the music industry. After winning a Grammy award and being recognized for her talent, Wright demonstrated her newfound introspectiveness and artistry in This Time For Real. During this time, as well, she had begun to dabble in producing, working with renowned producer Danny Sims to produce singles for up and coming artists. She told David Nathan of Blues & Soul in 1978 that this new role “will help me be more selective about my work. I know the difference between ‘hot’ and ‘cold’ as a record artist and when you’re hot, you can decide what you want more, be more choosy, pace yourself better.” Wright’s personality shone through on this album of slower tracks, particularly on “Brick Grits” and “That Man of Mine.” “‘Brick Grits,’” Wright told Rolling Stone, “is a little three-minute autobiography, I didn’t get a chance to learn how to cook or iron when I was a child…But my husband loved me enough to put up with me while I learned.” About “That Man of Mine,” Wright said, “When I was recording this album I was six months pregnant, I was really big, and all my friends were telling me how my eyes were shining…I wrote, ‘That Man of Mine’ as an explanation of that, because I realized I was really exuding that happiness.” Listening to these songs now, you would have no idea that Wright was six months pregnant, hearing her float in the whistle register in between hearty belts. Throughout her career, Wright demonstrated her resilience as a performer, delivering top-notch vocals as a child and even during her first pregnancy.

In 1985, Wright formed her own label, Ms. B Records, but continued to produce her own music with TK Records (the former Deep City). Wright’s music has stayed true to her style throughout the decades, while still incorporating the trends of the time. “No Pain, (No Gain)” (off of the 1988 album Mother Wit) featured the frequently-used snares and synthesized backing line of the eighties, and “It’s The Little Things” (off of the 1993 album B-Attitudes) exuded the sound of the nineties, with a steady drumbeat and tambourine complementing Wright’s seductive singing. Her 2011 album, Betty Wright: The Movie, perfectly blended Wright’s soul style with the sounds of the 2010s and featured popular hip-hop artists such as Snoop Dogg and Lil Wayne. The middle-aged Wright hadn’t lost any of her passion or skill and even dabbled in rap on “Old Songs.” Perhaps because of her older age, Wright’s belting seems fuller on this album. They ache with experience and knowledge…the result of Wright’s years of singing and producing music that is entirely her own. Her legacy lives on through her pupils and friends, Lil Wayne, DJ Khaled, and Joss Stone (to name a few). In a New Yorker interview in 2014, Wright spoke of her work with hip-hop artists, saying “You know, they are somebody’s children, and I’m somebody’s momma, so we have a really good kinship. I ain’t trying to be in their sandbox – I built the sandbox, but I watch ‘em play in it.” By “[teaching] them breathing and stamina,” Wright transformed hip-hop hopefuls into impassioned rappers with impeccable flow. Most notably, Wright’s raspy butterscotch vocals were featured in Rick Ross and Kanye West’s “Sanctified,” which was recorded at midnight by a tired Wright at the pleading request of DJ Khaled. Hearing the song now, Wright’s aching voice evoked her fulfilling singing career. And juxtaposed next to Rick Ross’s rap, Wright had given hip-hop her blessing.

Betty Wright was a woman full of love, not only for song, but for everyone she worked with. In the same New Yorker interview, she said, “As long as you keep yourself in love with people, you can transcend time.” And her love surely remains strong in the hearts of all whom she touched with her voice, whether they be fellow musicians or simply those who danced along to “Clean Up Woman.”

The 20-year-old superstar, Pop Smoke, full of promise and potential, re-invigorated the New York Drill scene, leaving us to wonder what could have been.

2020 has to be one the worst years in recent memory. From the infamous coronavirus to the civil unrest throughout the country, this year has brought to light a wide range of problems. Among the host of terrible events that have occurred, a variety of influential musicians have passed away, one of which was the rising star, Pop Smoke. As quickly as Pop Smoke rose to fame, was as swiftly as he lost it all. The 20-year-old Brooklyn born hip-hop rapper, Pop Smoke (originally named Bashar Barakah Jackson), was on the verge of making an international breakthrough before his life was mercilessly taken away. On the 19^th of February 2020, at around 4:30am, two masked men broke into his house in an attempted robbery but instead ended up fatally shooting Smoke and fleeing the scene. Smoke was quickly rushed to the closest hospital where he was pronounced dead after futile attempts at revival. Shock and anger ripped through the community that had grown so fond of his unique voice and compelling style of music. But how did a 20-year-old out of Brooklyn grow to have such an impact in such a short period of time?

Jackson was born on July 20, 1999 in New York City where he spent his early childhood in the Canarsie section of Brooklyn. To say that Jackson had a rough childhood would be an understatement; in eighth grade he was expelled for bringing a gun to school, shortly after he spent two years under house arrest for illegal possession of weapons. Though there were occasional highlights, an invisible force always seemed to prevent Smoke from achieving sustained success. For example, when he was 15, he won a basketball scholarship to a prep school in Philadelphia, however, was forced to decline the offer after being diagnosed with a heart murmur, a condition that can be exacerbating by playing sports. Despite his early struggles, Smoke’s unfaltering failures would soon lead to unimaginable fame in one of the most competitive and volatile industries.

Smoke only started playing around with the idea of music back in 2018, making his story even more unbelievable. His love for music stems from the time he spent in the studio during recording sessions with other well-established artists; these interactions fostered a deep-seated passion for the art and inspired him to embark on his own musical journey. During the recording sessions he started to attend more regularly, Smoke would secretly record his own vocals, immediately piquing the interest of some producers due to the unique nature of his voice. He began to work with 808Melo, a talented producer from the UK who would soon become one of his close friends and appear on numerous projects. On December 19, 2018, he released ‘MPR’ which created some buzz around his name in the Brooklyn area. The positive response he received urged him to continue fine-tuning his craft and creating music to share with the world. A month later, he followed up his debut single with another captivating piece called ‘Flexing,’ which ended up receiving over one hundred thousand views on YouTube within the first day of its release. With success stirring and the stars aligning, the journey seemed to be going much better than expected for the hopeful teenager, and after everything he had been through, this was a nothing short of extraordinary.

Smoke quickly befriended a producer, Rico Beats, who was well acquainted with the record executive for Victor Victor Worldwide, a subsidiary of Universal Music, known for cultivating the growth of young artists. After a quick introduction and brief interview, Smoke announced that he had signed with the record label and suddenly, everything seemed to have fallen in place, poising the young artist for international fame and triumph. In April 2019, Smoke released the lead single, ‘Welcome to the Party,’ of his debut mixtape— ‘Meet The Woo’ – foreshadowing the incredible celebratory party that would ensue. The record experienced tremendous amount of praise and recognition; the type of attention aspiring artists can only dream of achieving. It made its way around the world and caught the attention of heavyweights in the music industry such as Niki Minaj, Travis Scott, Quavo and many other globally acclaimed rappers, leading to some outstanding collaborations. Though the mixtape did not debut in the top 100 on the billboards, it was placed at 173, an impressive feat considering it was Smoke’s first commercial release. With people around the world echoing their unwavering support for the dynamic mixtape, Smoke and his label were confident that they could generate even more buzz with future releases. After taking a few months to refine and perfect his craft, Smoke announced the release of his second mixtape which would feature major artists such as Quavo, A Boogie wit da Hoodie, Fivio Foreign and Lil Tjay. What would be Smoke’s last project was released on the 7^th of February 2020. Unlike his previous release, this mixtape not only cracked the top 100 but ended by debuting at 7 on the US billboards; giving Smoke the confidence to say that he had finally made it, despite his rough start and through all the adversity, he had achieved his biggest dream. Unfortunately, though this tale has elements prosperity and triumph interspersed throughout, it eventually ends in tragedy and heartbreak. Smoke never seemed to escape the demons that haunted him from a young age. Only a week after experiencing nationwide recognition and praise, Smoke was brutally murdered in his own home, putting an end to his short-lived, exceptionally successful life.

Smoke’s success was largely attributed to the connection he drew between the New York and London drill scenes, forming a captivating bond that had once been vilified by the media. Drill was originally a British rap sub-genre that emerged in London; it quickly gained popularity inspiring the creation of other regional scenes. It is characterized by dark, violent, nihilistic lyrical content and ominous trap-influenced beats. The lyrics tend to reflect life on the streets in a violent, gritty and realistic way. The rappers generally use a grim, deadpan delivery with vocals that are slathered in auto tune, a method that was commonly employed by Pop Smoke. Though the sub-genre shares many similarities with trap music, it is generally slower with a moderate tempo of 60 to 70 beats per minute. Drill promptly made its way to the US where a regional style emerged in the south side of Chicago in early 2010 and by 2018 New York had seen its own iteration. Smoke did not stick to the conventional characteristics of the New York Drill scene yet was still was considered one of the biggest artists for the sub-genre due to its audible influence. Smoke often wrote about his environment and ambitions, glamorizing drugs and sexualizing women but never referencing excessively violent events. All of which is a direct result of his rough childhood; only Pop Smoke would be capable of turning something dreadful into something poetic and musical for all to listen to. In an interview Smoke stated that he makes music for the young kids growing up in poverty, like he did.

Many fans and critics attributed the newfound popularity of New York Drill to the catchy melodies and autotuned vocals Pop Smoke offered in his mix tapes. Smoke transformed the sub-genre and put it back on the map, capturing an entirely new audience that never existed before. He was praised for his unique style and stand out musical personality, which distinguished him from other rap artists, ultimately allowing him to experience tremendous amounts of fame and recognition. It was his distinctive approach to the sub-genre that caught the attention of many major recording artists. Upon his untimely death, the music world appeared to let out a unifying cry that echoed the remorse and heartbreak everyone was feeling about the tragic event. Quavo referred to Pop Smoke as a ‘very talented, humble, respectful, and appreciative’ young kid in a post on Instagram. Similar types of statements were shared by artists of similar status, showing the immense amount of appreciation and respect the 20-year-old had cultivated during his short musical journey. Now, all we have is the incomplete legacy that Smoke left behind. We are left to wonder what could have been. To what extent would he transform the genre? How would he grow as an artist? So many pressing questions that will never be answered. 808Melo recounts what Smoke said to him during a studio session – He knew, I need to do something else, I need to be versatile. I’m trying to be that superstar – Smoke was the type of artist that transforms genres and creates trends. There seems to be no limits in sight for what Smoke could have achieved. After all, he was only in the music game for two years before he achieved some top charting songs, who knows where he would have been in the next ten years. To lose him at such a young age and so early on in his career is not only devastating to his friends and family but also to the entire music community.