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- Johnnie Taylor
There's No Good In Goodbye
Malaco Records
By David Pilot
 Honest
admissions out of the way first, folks. I'm a 32 year old white
guy with a hard-on for Jack Daniel's and the smooth all-American
stylings of the famous Rhinestone Cowboy. I know roughly as
much about soul music as the average atheist does about the eternal
vistas awaiting the human soul as it crosses mortality's dark
veil en route to whatever the hell awaits in the afterlife.
Sure, I know a little bit about Sam Cooke and I'm known to spin
the occasional Otis Redding disc on a Saturday night whim.
But I've listened to and decided to ignore enough Motown to make
my mother-in-law think I must be a damned fool. Closest I get
to this whole genre is my inexplicable yet unfailing devotion
to all things Dobie Grey. All of which added up to a head-spinning
episode straight out of The Exorcist when I broke down
and slapped There's No Good In Goodbye in the stereo tonight.
I'm on my third run-through now, and here's what I know:
I'da given my left nut for a shot at seeing Johnnie Taylor play
live while he was still here with us. Considering he passed
in early 2000, I don't have too godawful much time to make up
for in the kicking myself category.
I've never been much for the urban music thing, which may
explain some of my Motown aversion as well as my deeply rooted
hatred for all things Streisand. I don't even drink cosmopolitans;
no point in wasting breath trying to convince me the city life
is one I ought to peruse. So the realization that Taylor, like
yours truly, had Arkansas roots and grew up close enough to Memphis
for the vibe to rub off went a long way in piquing interest.
Throw in the little nugget that Taylor replaced the aforementioned
Cooke in The Soul Stirrers for a time and you're getting up a
decent head of steam. Dig deeper and see where Johnnie outsold
Redding, Booker T and the MGs and Sam and Dave while sharing
the Stax letterhead, you've done found yourself a game.
Taylor spent sixteen years recording for the Malaco label,
and this record serves as a posthumous compilation of various
outtakes and unrecorded efforts from that span. It's a credit
to the man's abilities that this tribute, if you will, manages
to offer an overview of a widely varied career without drifting
off into aimless guitar jams or extended play yammerings that
offer little value. Truth be told, this record plays like a
tightly constructed live set with a vision. There's doo wop
and blues, soul and pop, disco and romance throughout. You'll
find styles here you don't get, some things you don't like, but
more often than not you'll find treasures you're going to love
for years. It seems clear Taylor never quite established a
style as distinctive as that of Clarke or Redding, but in borrowing
(at times heavily) from both, he did manage to construct a delivery
that's his own. It's likely that all-encompassing approach
that accounted for his sales record at Stax while simultaneously
derailing any chance at the notoriety some of his peers attained.
Still, innuendo-laden cuts like "Baby Sittin' " and
blatantly honest and soul-baring efforts along the lines of "Please
Sign the Dotted Line" evoke feelings and emotions of the
visceral nature on both sides of the skin color divide. Bet
you a dollar you can't listen to this passively. Make it two
that you can't listen and not like. Fact is, for an artist
who played within the rules of the genres he roamed, Johnnie
Taylor developed a sense of self and authenticity that many of
our current musical deconstructors (see Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park,
Green Day) would sell their bassists to attain.
Break out the tappin' shoes, folks. Your boots will do the
trick in a pinch. There's No Good In Goodbye is the
rare record that proves its title a bittersweet lie. One more
spin and I'm liable to switch to gin in tribute.
Contact David Pilot at: editor-at-rockzilla.net
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