Candi Staton – Self-Titled

In the pantheon of soul singers, Candi Staton gets in line behind Aretha Franklin, just like everyone else. But not too far behind. This self-titled, 26-track overview of her earliest solo recordings — cut at Fame Studios in Muscle Shoals, Alabama, between 1968 and 1973 — makes the case that Staton belongs near the head of the queue, right alongside Gladys Knight, say, or Mavis Staples. That Staton isn’t as well-known today as those singers can be put down to poor timing and promotion, unremarkable material, and who knows what other vagaries of the music business. But not to her voice.

Growing up in rural Alabama after World War II, Staton (rhymes with Peyton) began singing, like so many of the great soul singers, in the black church, but she also developed an early appreciation for Ernest Tubb and other stars of the Grand Ole Opry. As a teen, attending a private Christian school in Nashville, she joined the Jewel Gospel Trio, eventually recording for the Nashboro label and sharing bills with the likes of Franklin, the Staple Singers, and the Sam Cooke-led Soul Stirrers. After a fling with Pilgrim Travelers singer and future pop star Lou Rawls, a 17-year-old Staton returned to Alabama, where she was soon married, a mother, and out of the music business.

It wasn’t until she was 25 and her marriage was on the rocks that she returned to singing. This time, however, she devoted herself to southern soul of the type best represented by Aretha sides such as “Do Right Woman, Do Right Man”. Indeed, Staton was soon scoring hits of her own, albeit comparatively minor ones, working with the same Fame studio lineup which had created that Aretha single, as well as classics by Wilson Pickett, Clarence Carter, Etta James and others.

At Fame, Staton regularly transformed ordinary songs — “I’d Rather Be An Old Man’s Sweetheart (Than A Young Man’s Fool)” and “I’m Just A Prisoner (Of Your Good Lovin’)” are the very definition of generic — into memorable recordings. This success was possible, in great part, because of the first-rate Muscle Shoals rhythm sections with which she worked. But mostly it was due to Staton’s own funky, intensely expressive performances. And when her husky, church-inspired phrasing was paired with the songs she deserved, the results were inspired. Her 1970 version of “Stand By Your Man”, for instance, is one of the finest soul records ever made. Ditto for her version of O.V. Wright’s “That’s How Strong My Love Is”.

The only problem with this disc is what’s not here. Several of the singer’s charting singles from the period are missing, and there’s a frustrating absence of session dates, recording personnel, and other information. It’s what is here that matters, though, it’s all you’ll need to know that Candi Staton’s Fame sides are among the essential documents of southern soul.