The careers and paths of Nashville vocalist Roscoe Shelton and Memphis pianist, composer and singer Rosco Gordon didnít intersect during the í50s and í60s when they were in their prime as performers. Yet the two men, who died within two weeks of each other last month, at 70 and 74 respectively, are linked symbolically because they were part of a wonderfully eclectic, if fiscally haphazard, Southern music scene that is now mostly a memory.
Gordon and Shelton were among a generation of African American artists equally influenced by blues lyrics, white and black gospel inflections, and narrative and interpretative elements of country music. Sheltonís magical high tenor delivery and Gordonís laconic tone, pumping piano solos and charismatic personality emerged during the turbulent era that ultimately birthed rock íní roll—a truly revolutionary, cosmopolitan art form that was often more visionary than those who listened to or profited from it. Indeed, it can be argued that Roscoe Shelton and Rosco Gordon might have been too unique and versatile for their own good, because their sound never easily fit any generic formula.
When, in the late í60s and early í70s, American music became less of a hit-or-miss enterprise and more of a calculated business, its emphasis shifted away from freewheeling creation toward more strict musical categorization. Artists who could be marketed more easily to specific audiences became the preferred choice, while singers like Shelton and Gordon, whose music didnít fully fit any one genre, were slowly but surely discarded. Shelton and Gordon werenít prolific hit-makers, but both men were great craftsmen with highly distinctive approaches, and both made some wonderful and enduring records.
Roscoe Shelton was born in Lynchburg, Tenn., but he grew up in Nashville. Despite having a guitar-playing uncle who introduced him to the music of jump blues singers like Amos Milburn and Ivory Joe Hunter, Shelton was initially a first-rate gospel vocalist. As a teen, he sang with The Fireside Gospel Singers and The Fairfield Four, before signing with Excello in 1958 (following a stint in the Air Force). ìStrain on My Heartî and ìEasy Going Fellow,î Sheltonís two finest numbers from the mid-í60s, were written by New Orleans mainstay Allen Orange and released on John Richbourgís Sound Stage 7 label. Shelton followed those singles with more exemplary recordings, among them the remarkable Soul in His Music: Music in His Soul LP, which featured more gems from Orange, plus an incredible rendition of Dan Pennís ìThereís a Heartbreak Somewhere.î
Nevertheless, Shelton left the music business in 1969, disillusioned, among other things, by the shady practices heíd encountered. He spent almost 20 years working as the director of student housing at Meharry Medical College before his career was resurrected in the í90s, thanks in large part to the efforts of guitarist and producer Fred James. Let It Shine, Sheltonís 1998 release for the Black Top label, turned lots of heads, and he remained a compelling vocalist until health problems eventually took their toll.
Memphis native Rosco Gordon got his initiation into the big time when ìBooted,î his first single, was released on both the Chess and RPM (Modern) labels in 1952, triggering a fierce squabble over which company owned the rights to his recordings. That didnít prevent the infectious number, with its skittering beat and slithering lead vocals, from vaulting to the top of the R&B charts. Gordonís follow-up hit, ìNo More Dogginí,î established his unusual loping shuffle rhythm. That style, which featured unorthodox syncopation and accents in unexpected places, greatly influenced the development of ska and bluebeat in Jamaica when ìNo More Dogginî later surfaced there. Gordon even appeared in the 1957 film Rock Baby, Rock It and subsequently moved to New York and formed the duo Rosco and Barbara, with his wife Barbara. ìJust a Little Bit,î Gordonís last big hit (from 1960), went on to become a rock staple.
Gordon spent many years trying to score another smash but never succeeded, despite recording for ABC, Old Town, Jomada, Rae-Cox, Calla and even his own label Bab-Roc. African American popular musicís move away from blues and soul toward more polished, heavily produced, urban contemporary styles all but ended Gordonís career. Still, he kept plugging away, using the profits from his cleaning business to finance his singles. Amazingly, Gordon cut Memphis, Tennessee, his first-ever full-length LP, in 2000; the record is a sorely overlooked date that featured him performing his signature hits backed by the stinging guitar of Duke Robillard and a fine band. The album earned him a W.C. Handy award nomination.
Sadly, both Roscoe Shelton and Rosco Gordon were deemed ìdatedî and banished to the oldies hinterland long before their deaths. Funk bands with their flashy horn sections, rock guitar solos and thudding, steady beats, followed by disco, glossy urban ballads and hip-hop, displaced soul acts on black radio and in the hearts of the African American listeners of the post-civil rights era. Fortunately, a number of young artists associated with the current neo-soul movement are seeking, in their work, to duplicate the feeling of freedom, exuberance and celebration inherent in great soul music. Of course, we canít expect them to echo, or even necessarily acknowledge, the sounds popularized by Roscoe Shelton and Rosco Gordon. That music is now gone, as are Shelton and Gordon themselves. Those of us fortunate enough to have enjoyed their music or seen them perform, though, wonít forget them.
