golicinski
Robert Gordon’s new book tells the history of Stax Records, the famous Memphis label responsible for some of Southern soul’s definitive recordings.
Stax began in a Memphis garage in 1957 as Satellite Records, a project of Jim Stewart, soon joined by his sister Estelle Axton, both white. From these humble beginnings, it enjoyed a fairy-tale rise, becoming a revered name, the home of the great Otis Redding, of “Soul Man” and “In the Midnight Hour.”
Gordon tracks this glorious ascent—and a vertiginous fall—as the label eventually collapsed under its own weight. He delivers a compelling tale with maximum effect, drawing on interviews with singers, musicians, songwriters, producers, secretaries, label heads—everyone he could get his hands on.
We know at least two other excellent histories of Stax. The noted chronicler of Southern music, Peter Guralnick, devotes a portion of his book Sweet Soul Music to the label, while also exploring the music of Muscle Shoals, Ala., and Macon, Ga. In addition, Rob Bowman’s Soulsville, U.S.A. devotes itself entirely to the history of Stax. (Bowman earned a Grammy for the liner notes he wrote to accompany The Complete Stax/Volt Soul Singles compilation.)
Gordon holds his own. He doesn’t appreciate Isaac Hayes’s album Black Moses, and he makes the occasional cheesy joke—“Dance? The horizontal dance”—but such minutiae don’t obscure the point. The story of Stax is undeniable.
In the beginning, you really loved me
After a couple of years in the garage, Jim and Estelle moved the operation to an old movie theater and renamed it Stax (Stewart/Axton). They set up a studio in back and a record shop in front. Jim initially felt lukewarm about R&B, but Ray Charles’s “What’d I Say” earned his loyalty.
Stewart and Axton established an open-door policy, and Memphis’s musicians seeped into the studio in talented, curious clumps. Rufus Thomas, a local performer and DJ, came by to give recording a shot. He brought his daughter, Carla Thomas.
Stax began in a Memphis garage in 1957 as Satellite Records, a project of Jim Stewart, soon joined by his sister Estelle Axton, both white. From these humble beginnings, it enjoyed a fairy-tale rise, becoming a revered name, the home of the great Otis Redding, of “Soul Man” and “In the Midnight Hour.”
Gordon tracks this glorious ascent—and a vertiginous fall—as the label eventually collapsed under its own weight. He delivers a compelling tale with maximum effect, drawing on interviews with singers, musicians, songwriters, producers, secretaries, label heads—everyone he could get his hands on.
We know at least two other excellent histories of Stax. The noted chronicler of Southern music, Peter Guralnick, devotes a portion of his book Sweet Soul Music to the label, while also exploring the music of Muscle Shoals, Ala., and Macon, Ga. In addition, Rob Bowman’s Soulsville, U.S.A. devotes itself entirely to the history of Stax. (Bowman earned a Grammy for the liner notes he wrote to accompany The Complete Stax/Volt Soul Singles compilation.)
Gordon holds his own. He doesn’t appreciate Isaac Hayes’s album Black Moses, and he makes the occasional cheesy joke—“Dance? The horizontal dance”—but such minutiae don’t obscure the point. The story of Stax is undeniable.
In the beginning, you really loved me
After a couple of years in the garage, Jim and Estelle moved the operation to an old movie theater and renamed it Stax (Stewart/Axton). They set up a studio in back and a record shop in front. Jim initially felt lukewarm about R&B, but Ray Charles’s “What’d I Say” earned his loyalty.
Stewart and Axton established an open-door policy, and Memphis’s musicians seeped into the studio in talented, curious clumps. Rufus Thomas, a local performer and DJ, came by to give recording a shot. He brought his daughter, Carla Thomas.