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The ‘Queen of Soul’ Died at 76

The Free Press WV

Aretha Franklin, the undisputed “Queen of Soul” who sang with matchless style on such classics as “Think,“ ‘'I Say a Little Prayer,“ and her signature song, “Respect,“ and who stood as a cultural icon around the globe, has died at age 76 from advanced pancreatic cancer. Publicist Gwendolyn Quinn tells the AP that Franklin died Thursday at 9:50am at her home in Detroit. Franklin, who’d battled undisclosed health issues in recent years, had in 2017 announced her retirement from touring. A professional singer and accomplished pianist by her late teens, and a superstar by her mid-20s, Franklin had long ago settled any arguments over who was the greatest popular vocalist of her time. Her gifts were a multi-octave mezzo-soprano, gospel passion, and training worthy of a preacher’s daughter.

She recorded hundreds of tracks and had dozens of hits over the span of a half-century, including 20 that reached No. 1 on the R&B charts. But her reputation was defined by an extraordinary run of top 10 smashes in the late 1960s, from the morning-after bliss of “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,“ to the wised-up “Chain of Fools,“ to her unstoppable call for “Respect.“ Her records sold millions of copies and the music industry couldn’t honor her enough. Franklin won 18 Grammy Awards. In 1987, she became the first woman inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. In a 2004 interview, Franklin was asked whether she sensed in the ‘60s that she was helping change popular music. “Somewhat, certainly with ‘Respect,‘ that was a battle cry for freedom and many people of many ethnicities took pride in that word,“ she answered. “It was meaningful to all of us.“

‘Queen of Soul’ Aretha Franklin dies at 76

Aretha Franklin, the undisputed “Queen of Soul” who sang with matchless style on such classics as “Think,” ″I Say a Little Prayer” and her signature song, “Respect,” and stood as a cultural icon around the globe, died Thursday at age 76 from pancreatic cancer.

She died at her home in Detroit — “one of the darkest moments of our lives,” her family said, in a statement released to The Associated Press by publicist Gwendolyn Quinn. 

“We have been deeply touched by the incredible outpouring of love and support we have received from close friends, supporters and fans all around the world ,” the family said, adding that funeral arrangements would be announced in coming days.

Franklin, who had battled undisclosed health issues in recent years, announced her retirement from touring last year.

A professional singer and accomplished pianist by her late teens, a superstar by her mid-20s, Franklin had long ago settled any arguments over who was the greatest popular vocalist of her time . Her gifts, natural and acquired, were a multi-octave mezzo-soprano, gospel passion and training worthy of a preacher’s daughter, taste sophisticated and eccentric, and the courage to channel private pain into liberating song.

“She was truly one of a kind,” said Clive Davis, the music mogul who brought her to Arista Records and helped revive her career in the 1980s. “She was more than the Queen of Soul.  She was a national treasure to be cherished by every generation throughout the world.”

She recorded hundreds of tracks and had dozens of hits over the span of a half century , including 20 that reached No. 1 on the R&B charts. But her reputation was defined by an extraordinary run of top 10 smashes in the late 1960s, from the morning-after bliss of “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” to the wised-up “Chain of Fools” to her unstoppable call for “Respect.”

Her records sold millions of copies and the music industry couldn’t honor her enough. Franklin won 18 Grammy awards. In 1987, she became the first woman inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Fellow singers bowed to her eminence. Said Smokey Robinson, who grew up with her in Detroit: “This morning my longest friend in this world went home to be with our Father. I will miss her so much but I know she’s at peace.”

Political and civic leaders treated her as a peer.  Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was a longtime friend, and she sang at the dedication of King’s memorial, in 2011. She performed at the inaugurations of Presidents Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter, and at the funeral for civil rights pioneer Rosa Parks. Clinton gave Franklin the National Medal of Arts. President George W. Bush awarded her the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian honor, in 2005.

Bill and Hillary Clinton issued a statement mourning the loss of their friend and “one of America’s greatest treasures.” For more than 50 years, they said, Franklin “stirred our souls. She was elegant, graceful, and utterly uncompromising in her artistry.”

Franklin’s best-known appearance with a president was in January 2009, when she sang “My Country ’tis of Thee” at President Barack Obama’s inauguration. She wore a gray felt hat with a huge, Swarovski rhinestone-bordered bow that became an internet sensation and even had its own website. In 2015, she brought Obama and others to tears with a triumphant performance of “Natural Woman” at a Kennedy Center tribute to the song’s co-writer, Carole King.

Franklin endured the exhausting grind of celebrity and personal troubles dating back to childhood. She was married from 1961 to 1969 to her manager, Ted White, and their battles are widely believed to have inspired her performances on several songs, including “(Sweet Sweet Baby) Since You’ve Been Gone,” ″Think” and her heartbreaking ballad of despair, “Ain’t No Way.” The mother of two sons by age 16 (she later had two more), she was often in turmoil as she struggled with her weight, family problems and financial predicaments. Her best known producer, Jerry Wexler, nicknamed her “Our Lady of Mysterious Sorrows.”


Franklin married actor Glynn Turman in 1978 in Los Angeles but returned to her hometown of Detroit the following year after her father was shot by burglars and left semi-comatose until his death in 1984. She and Turman divorced that year.

Despite growing up in Detroit, and having Robinson as a childhood friend, Franklin never recorded for Motown Records; stints with Columbia and Arista were sandwiched around her prime years with Atlantic Records. But it was at Detroit’s New Bethel Baptist Church, where her father was pastor, that Franklin learned the gospel fundamentals that would make her a soul institution.

Aretha Louise Franklin was born March 25, 1942, in Memphis, Tennessee. The Rev. C.L. Franklin soon moved his family to Buffalo, New York, then to Detroit, where the Franklins settled after the marriage of Aretha’s parents collapsed and her mother (and reputed sound-alike) Barbara returned to Buffalo.

C.L. Franklin was among the most prominent Baptist ministers of his time. He recorded dozens of albums of sermons and music and knew such gospel stars as Marion Williams and Clara Ward, who mentored Aretha and her sisters Carolyn and Erma. (Both sisters sang on Aretha’s records, and Carolyn also wrote “Ain’t No Way” and other songs for Aretha). Music was the family business and performers from Sam Cooke to Lou Rawls were guests at the Franklin house. In the living room, the shy young Aretha awed friends with her playing on the grand piano.

Franklin occasionally performed at New Bethel Baptist throughout her career; her 1987 gospel album “One Lord One Faith One Baptism” was recorded live at the church.

Her most acclaimed gospel recording came in 1972 with the Grammy-winning album “Amazing Grace,” which was recorded live at New Temple Missionary Baptist Church in South Central Los Angeles and featured gospel legend James Cleveland, along with her own father (Mick Jagger was one of the celebrities in the audience). It became one of the best-selling gospel albums ever.

The piano she began learning at age 8 became a jazzy component of much of her work, including arranging as well as songwriting. “If I’m writing and I’m producing and singing, too, you get more of me that way, rather than having four or five different people working on one song,” Franklin told The Detroit News in 2003.

Franklin was in her early teens when she began touring with her father, and she released a gospel album in 1956 through J-V-B Records. Four years later, she signed with Columbia Records producer John Hammond, who called Franklin the most exciting singer he had heard since a vocalist he promoted decades earlier, Billie Holiday. Franklin knew Motown founder Berry Gordy Jr. and considered joining his label, but decided it was just a local company at the time.

Franklin recorded several albums for Columbia Records over the next six years. She had a handful of minor hits, including “Rock-A-Bye Your Baby With a Dixie Melody” and “Runnin’ Out of Fools,” but never quite caught on as the label tried to fit into her a variety of styles, from jazz and show songs to such pop numbers as “Mockingbird.” Franklin jumped to Atlantic Records when her contract ran out, in 1966.

“But the years at Columbia also taught her several important things,” critic Russell Gersten later wrote. “She worked hard at controlling and modulating her phrasing, giving her a discipline that most other soul singers lacked. She also developed a versatility with mainstream music that gave her later albums a breadth that was lacking on Motown LPs from the same period.

“Most important, she learned what she didn’t like: to do what she was told to do.”

At Atlantic, Wexler teamed her with veteran R&B musicians from Fame Studios in Muscle Shoals, and the result was a tougher, soulful sound, with call-and-response vocals and Franklin’s gospel-style piano, which anchored “I Say a Little Prayer,” ″Natural Woman” and others.

Of Franklin’s dozens of hits, none was linked more firmly to her than the funky, horn-led march “Respect” and its spelled out demand for “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.”

Writing in Rolling Stone magazine in 2004, Wexler said: “There are songs that are a call to action. There are love songs. There are sex songs. But it’s hard to think of another song where all those elements are combined.”

Franklin had decided she wanted to “embellish” the R&B song written by Otis Redding, whose version had been a modest hit in 1965, Wexler said.

“When she walked into the studio, it was already worked out in her head,” the producer wrote. “Otis came up to my office right before ‘Respect’ was released, and I played him the tape. He said, ‘She done took my song.’ He said it benignly and ruefully. He knew the identity of the song was slipping away from him to her.”

In a 2004 interview with the St. Petersburg (Florida) Times, Franklin was asked whether she sensed in the ’60s that she was helping change popular music.

“Somewhat, certainly with ‘Respect,’ that was a battle cry for freedom and many people of many ethnicities took pride in that word,” she answered. “It was meaningful to all of us.”

In 1968, Franklin was pictured on the cover of Time magazine and had more than 10 Top 20 hits in 1967 and 1968. At a time of rebellion and division, Franklin’s records were a musical union of the church and the secular, man and woman, black and white, North and South, East and West. They were produced and engineered by New Yorkers Wexler and Tom Dowd, arranged by Turkish-born Arif Mardin and backed by an interracial assembly of top session musicians based mostly in Alabama.

Her popularity faded during the 1970s despite such hits as the funky “Rock Steady” and such acclaimed albums as the intimate “Spirit in the Dark.” But her career was revived in 1980 with a cameo appearance in the smash movie “The Blues Brothers” and her switch to Arista . Franklin collaborated with such pop and soul artists as Luther Vandross, Elton John, Whitney Houston and George Michael, with whom she recorded a No. 1 single, “I Knew You Were Waiting (for Me).” Her 1985 album “Who’s Zoomin’ Who” received some of her best reviews and included such hits as the title track and “Freeway of Love.”

Critics consistently praised Franklin’s singing but sometimes questioned her material; she covered songs by Stephen Sondheim, Bread, the Doobie Brothers. For Aretha, anything she performed was “soul.”

From her earliest recording sessions, she defied category. The 1998 Grammys gave her a chance to demonstrate her range. Franklin performed “Respect,” then, with only a few minutes’ notice, filled in for an ailing Luciano Pavarotti and drew rave reviews for her rendition of “Nessun Dorma,” a stirring aria for tenors from Puccini’s “Turandot.”

“I’m sure many people were surprised, but I’m not there to prove anything,” Franklin told The Associated Press. “Not necessary.”

Fame never eclipsed Franklin’s charitable works, or her loyalty to Detroit.

Franklin sang the national anthem at Super Bowl in her hometown in 2006, after grousing that Detroit’s rich musical legacy was being snubbed when the Rolling Stones were chosen as halftime performers.

“I didn’t think there was enough (Detroit representation) by any means,” she said. “And it was my feeling, ‘How dare you come to Detroit, a city of legends — musical legends, plural — and not ask one or two of them to participate?’ That’s not the way it should be.”

Franklin did most of her extensive touring by bus after Redding’s death in a 1967 plane crash, and a rough flight to Detroit in 1982 left her with a fear of flying that anti-anxiety tapes and classes couldn’t help. She told Time in 1998 that the custom bus was a comfortable alternative: “You can pull over, go to Red Lobster. You can’t pull over at 35,000 feet.”

She only released a few albums over the past two decades, including “A Rose is Still a Rose,” which featured songs by Sean “Diddy” Combs, Lauryn Hill and other contemporary artists, and “So Damn Happy,” for which Franklin wrote the gratified title ballad. Franklin’s autobiography, “Aretha: From These Roots,” came out in 1999, when she was in her 50s. But she always made it clear that her story would continue.

“Music is my thing, it’s who I am. I’m in it for the long run,” she told The Associated Press in 2008. “I’ll be around, singing, ‘What you want, baby I got it.’ Having fun all the way.”

Movie Review: ‘Mile 22’

Mark Wahlberg’s “Mile 22” character James Silva has a tick where he snaps a yellow rubber bracelet against his wrist. He does this many, many times throughout this all-out assault of a movie, which seems to have been shot and edited with the singular purpose of leaving the audience confused and disoriented at every turn. This restless camera can’t even hold still during a simple scene of dialogue, changing focus every two seconds — eyes, off-center face, hands, blood pressure monitor, and on and on.

That snapping sound is actually one of the more orienting things. Ah yes, you think, it’s Silva calming his mind, which is apparently quicker than most people’s resulting in both extreme intelligence and extreme anger, or so we’re told in a similarly frenetic opening credits sequence with a lot of voiceovers. His mother gave him the bracelet so that he could snap it as a reminder to pause. While that’s nice for Silva, it’s also incredibly annoying for the audience.

On a broad scale, this movie is about counterterrorism efforts and trying to predict the unpredictable. There’s a nuclear substance at large which, if released into the atmosphere, would be like “Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined” and all you need is “a kid with an envelope” on a street corner to release it. A man, Li Noor (the incredible marital arts stuntman Iko Uwais) comes to a U.S. Embassy saying he has the locations of the missing substance but will only give them up in exchange for asylum. So Silva and his paramilitary CIA unit, including Lauren Cohan, Ronda Rousey and Carlo Alban, all quit their jobs and become “ghosts” to take on the extremely dangerous operation of transporting Li 22 miles to a plane that will get him to the U.S. Overwatch is a “higher form of patriotism,“ John Malkovich’s director-type opines to no one in particular.

“Mile 22” is one of the more disappointing collaborations between Wahlberg and director Peter Berg, who also made “Lone Survivor” (a similar assault), the self-aggrandizing “Patriots Day,“ and the quite thrilling and underappreciated “Deepwater Horizon.“ ‘'Mile 22” is the first that wasn’t ripped from the headlines. It’s a clear attempt at a franchise, and while this shadowy unit of operatives seems as fair game as any, Silva is a horrifyingly bad character, poorly developed and with no redeemable qualities who only ever seems to be shouting insults at all of his co-workers. They never seem all that fazed by it though. Is Silva just a maniac they tolerate? Did they all realize he’s all bark and no bite? Doesn’t that undermine his character from the get-go?


This is all too bad, because there are genuinely interesting elements about this film, like how at least 50 percent of the humans here, from intelligence officers, to code breakers, to ambassadors, are women. Not that that should be notable, but it is. Also Uwais has one truly stunning action sequence involving a gurney that is not to be missed. But the rest of the action is so obscured you’re not even sure who or what you’re watching most of the time. The only time it slows down is to show some of the most gruesome ways to kill someone that have been committed to screen this year (like how about dragging someone’s neck across the jagged edges of a shattered car window over and over? That one got one of the biggest groans I’ve ever heard from an audience).

The script has a few surprises in store, but it’s all too little too late even at a brisk 90 minutes. For a movie so excited to tell a story about the CIA’s “most highly-prized and least understood unit,“ it sure doesn’t do much to ensure you leave any more informed than you were when you sat down.

“Mile 22,“ an STX Entertainment release, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association of American for “strong violence and language throughout.“ Running time: 90 minutes. One and a half stars out of four.

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