"Direct Me" by Clydie King
In which a professional backup singer steps boldly into the cruel spotlight.
“Direct Me”:
In June of 1973, Merry Clayton was at home in Los Angeles when the phone rang. It was her old friend Clydie King on the line, asking her to join her at a recording session where she was singing backup. “I said, ‘What are we singing?’” Clayton recalled to Rolling Stone in 2019. King informed her that the song was called “Sweet Home Alabama”, for a group with the strange name of Lynyrd Skynyrd.
“I said, ‘I’m not singing about Alabama! I remember those poor little girls killed by racists!”
Clayton, who had known and worked with King for many years, deferred to her old friends’ judgment and took the gig despite her misgivings. But it must’ve still rankled Clayton, because after the session Clydie reassured her, “We did our part and this song will live in infamy, Merry. And we’ll continually get paid.”
Born in Dallas in 1943 to a mother who died when she was only two years old, Clydie King grew up singing gospel. So preternaturally gifted that, by the age of 8, she had already appeared on Art Linkletter’s nationally televised talent show, she was raised primarily by older sister Lula Mae Crittendon. Her family moved to Los Angeles when Clydie was young, and her professional recording career began there, when she was just 13.
This career at first constituted a string of unsuccessful singles for Speciality, Imperial and Phillips, but by 1966 she was at the top of the show business pyramid, albeit somewhat off to the side- she and Clayton were two of The Raelettes, Ray Charles’ famed backing singers. “We thought we knew how to sing,” Clayton remembers. “But he taught us both how to do it in a group. We learned to do what we do and how to be a beautiful woman and how to stand and sit.”
In the late Sixties, King left the Raelettes to spend more time with her young family. She soon transitioned into a career as a professional backup singer, one of the most sought-after of her time. That’s her on “Tumbling Dice” by The Rolling Stones and “You’re No Good” by Linda Ronstandt. That’s her on “City Of New Orleans” by Arlo Guthrie and “Deacon Blues” by Steely Dan. She appeared in the films A Star Is Born and Mad Dogs and Englishmen, a documentary of the Joe Cocker tour in which she featured prominently. Somewhere in all of this static, someone figured Clydie ought to record her own album.
Gabriel Mekler, the Palestinian producer of heavy metal pioneers Steppenwolf was called in to produce and release the album on his fledgling Lizard imprint. Mekler was a slightly puzzling choice to produce a soul album, but he was probably selected for his proximity to the lucrative rock audience (who were already familiar with King’s singing, even if they didn’t know it), or for his recent work on Etta James’ self-titled comeback album, which sold well enough to be nominated for a Grammy.
“Ain’t My Stuff Good Enough”:
Direct Me, the resulting album, was a vivacious, virile work which showcased King’s mastery of several divergent styles. On the breathless title track, King performs the miraculous feat of singing an Otis Redding song better than Otis did. “Ain’t My Stuff Good Enough?” is a ferocious strut which abruptly shifts gears several times on its way to a bold, blistering chorus. The slow, staggering “I Can’t Go On Without Love” is noteworthy for King’s honeyed burr and some spirited organ stabs courtesy of childhood pal Billy Preston.
Bassist Robert West, who co-wrote The Jackson Five’s immortal “I’ll Be There”, contributes the headlong rush of “‘Bout Love”, with King steadfast at the helm as jazz-funk legend David T. Walker’s guitar alternately chimes and snarls. Clydie is eminently at ease with the country-soul of Delaney Bramlett’s determined “There’s A Long Road Ahead”.
“‘Bout Love”:
Direct Me’s weakest moments come courtesy of its producer. Mekler authored two songs here: “First Time, Last Time”, a subpar adult contemporary ballad that lacks all conviction, and “B Minor”, an even worse adult contemporary ballad that lacks any tangible reason for existing. Both songs seem designed to turn Clydie King into Karen Carpenter, and both songs, placed as they are at the center of each side’s track list, glare against the soul-rock backup which colors the rest of Direct Me. A similar pop vein is pursued on “The Long and Winding Road”, a cloying song which even a singer of King’s pedigree can only do so much to improve.
Direct Me, a beneficiary of Lizard’s anemic promotional budget, went absolutely nowhere upon its release in 1970. King continued to enjoy a long and rewarding career as a backup singer, even as her solo career, sporadically attended to at best, failed to generate momentum. She struggled with health issues in her declining years, and passed away in Monrovia, CA in 2019. She is remembered today for her astonishing voice, both warm and rough, capable of channeling Dinah Washington and Bettye LaVette in equal measures. Direct Me remains the best representation of her artistry and talent, and its jubilant spirit remains a rare pleasure.
“Never Like This Before”: