Donny Hathaway Live

I’m always sad when I ask people if they know Donny Hathaway’s music and they haven’t heard of him. So much about his biography is sad, but I don’t want to dwell on that. If his music is sad, it is also optimistic, and the messages are just as relevant today. Finally there is a book on this great musician for the world to read (there is some poetry out there, too, so this is really the first nonfiction). I always believe the best way to learn about music is to listen, but reading always helps you know what to listen for. In the 33 1/3 series, Emily J. Lordi chose to write about “Donny Hathaway Live” to represent this artist.

If you’re a fan of Donny Hathaway and have tried to read up on him with the few resources available, you’ll find some familiar stories and more, from comprehensive research. If you are not familiar with his work, this will catch you up to speed, and fill in some of the gaps in how his story has been told. Much more than just the live album, this touches on, in the short length accorded to the series, biography and the rest of his discography. There isn’t a real in-depth analysis of the music itself, other than his outstanding vocals, but again: listen. How to even describe such music? Gospel is an underlying foundation, as is soul, but he and his band rock, groove, and jam. They can improvise as well as the best jazzers. The first time I realized that Donny Hathaway was playing the keyboards as well as singing, my mind was blown. Especially on the Wurlitzer and Rhodes pianos, he was a virtuoso. Lordi writes of how Hathaway’s music was different from that of his contemporaries, thematically as well as vocally, and how his identity was a reflection of this, or how his identity reflected itself in his music.

Hathaway’s studio recordings, though few, are impeccable, yet a live album was chosen for this series. In performance, he and his band had a different sound, and the reasons for having live recordings for representation are evident in Lordi’s writing. Interesting background on the engineering and production that went into this particular album is included, as is the hype made for the shows – he wasn’t well known that early in his career. Even the names of the venues where these shows were recorded are striking to me: The Troubadour in Los Angeles, suggesting a traveling musician telling stories, and the Bitter End in New York, which was actually a dry venue – but that wasn’t the first thought anyway. The “heaviness” in this music is pronounced in his live recordings, and what that means is really explored in this book.

One remarkable quality in Hathaway’s music is how he took songs others had written and made them his own. Why he was perhaps more comfortable and successful in this approach is discussed. Again, when I heard his live version of “You’ve Got a Friend” I was amazed by the audience singing along, and was just as surprised when I learned that was not his song originally. Songs like “A Song for You” and “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” also fit in this category, and his interpretation of “To Be Young, Gifted and Black” is distinct from but just as moving as Nina Simone’s. On the other hand, songs he wrote or co-wrote are not the same when covered, with rare exception. I am going on a bit about my own feelings towards Donny Hathaway’s music, but I suppose I was just looking for an opportunity. But this isn’t about me.

This book, too much like Hathaway’s life, ends too soon, with so much more that could be said. The author discusses mental illness, and the reality of epidemics and misdirection that made conditions worse for Hathaway and for other men of color in the mid-twentieth century. Despite his tragic death, his legacy is profound, and his music remains powerful and emotional. Told in refreshing, accessible language, “Donny Hathaway Live” fills the need for a long-deserved extension of a biography.