Stax label grooved as interracial collaboration
ALESIA I. REDDING
"Respect Yourself: The Stax Records Story," chronicles the tale of a record label that began almost by accident.
The two-hour documentary also paints an unforgettable picture of interracial harmony and cooperation that in retrospect seems both perfectly reasonable and completely incredible.
But none of that is more important than the music -- gritty and compelling soul, rooted in blues and gospel -- which is rightly the real star of the show.
The major players are on hand in this PBS program, part of the "Great Performances" series, including Jim Stewart -- "banker by day, country fiddle player at night" -- who co-founded Stax in 1957 (as Satellite Records) with his sister, schoolteacher Estelle Axton, with the intention of recording some country music; guitarist Steve Cropper, who insists that it "wasn't about the notes, the music, the melody or the song ... it was about the groove"; Isaac Hayes, the co-writer of many Stax hits with David Porter who found success as a solo artist (including an Academy Award for the "Shaft" theme); and Otis Redding, who was the label's brightest light before his death in a plane crash at the age of 26.
These stories, framed by concert performances and behind-the-scenes footage, illuminate a time when blacks and whites, segregated from cradle to grave, came together to create soul music in a converted theater in a black neighborhood in Memphis, Tenn., a city that as late as 1970 closed its public swimming pools rather than abide by court-ordered integration.
"We never looked at color," Estelle Axton, who ran the record shop fashioned out of the theater's concession stand, says. "We looked at people, at talent."
By all accounts, before Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination and before legal and financial woes led the company into bankruptcy, interracial harmony reigned at Stax.
Al Bell, the former Memphis disc jockey who signed on as promotions man in the mid-'60s, found his "solace" at Stax: "To sit in that office with this white man (Stewart), sharing the same telephone, sharing the same thoughts, and being treated like an equal human being was a breath of fresh air for me."
The charismatic Bell, who later became chairman and owner of the company, matter-of-factly recalls a slur from an earlier employer: Blacks can't do anything, he was told, but "sing and dance" (The actual quote didn't use the word "blacks").
This ultimate salesman's reaction? "Wait a minute -- singing and dancing? You make a lot of money singing and dancing. So that's not a problem, that's a positive -- that's an opportunity."
Less gregarious, but equally terrific is Booker T. Jones of the Stax house band, Booker T. and the MGs. Describing the first time he heard a young roadie named Otis Redding sing (an a cappella version of "These Arms of Mine"), Jones says, "That moment ... Otis Redding singing that song ... When you're in a moment like that, you're not thinking that it's going to sell a lot of records ... it's all heart, it's all heart. Time gets frozen when you're involved in something like that."
Ultimately, the music makes the most powerful statements in "Respect Yourself." And thankfully, the producers are generous with it, providing much more than a tease of such Stax performances as "You Don't Miss Your Water" by William Bell and Marvell Thomas and Sam & Dave's "You Don't Know Like I Know."
That's good, because as fascinating as it is to hear about the baritone sax line that teenage keyboardist Jones played in an early studio session, it's even better to hear it on " 'Cause I Love You" by Rufus and Carla Thomas.
And the story about the "pretty good riff" that was the inspiration for a song that was thrown on the B-side of a bluesy record is even better when you see Booker and company perform that accidental hit, the infectious "Green Onions."
The most effective musical statement, however, comes during a discussion of the difference between Stax and Motown, the Detroit studio famous for its meticulous harmonies and smooth choreography. Motown, Rufus Thomas explains, "had the sweet, but Stax had the funk."
Stax "had that big bass thing that'd come at you, reach out and grab you," he says.
That's a pretty good explanation. Even better is the footage that frames his comments, showing two versions of the Motown classic "My Girl."
In the first, the spit-polished and perfectly synchronized Temptations glide across the stage as they harmonize about "My girl ... my girl ... my girl ..."
A couple minutes later, the mood is considerably less serene, as Redding, a sheen of sweat on his face, rips into the same song -- well, the lyrics are basically the same -- on a stage that seems too small to hold him.
The sound is rough around the edges, emotional and completely addictive. That's Stax.
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