Solomon Burke, 1940-2010

On a pleasant Saturday night at Glastonbury 2008, we were torn. We stood in the Pyramid field as a seventy-something Leonard Cohen put out a career-revitalising set, stopping after each number to doff his hat politely to the awed crowd. Delivered in his signature flat baritone, awash with irony and self-deprecation, his poetry shone.

Given the walking time between stages, it is a tough decision to leave any halfway-decent set at Glastonbury (let alone a classic in the making). But Liz and I sighed and moved on, starting around the field’s perimeter for the quarter-hour traipse to the Jazzworld stage.

We knew very little about Solomon Burke. I remembered seeing him on a Jools Holland show a few years back, immense on a glittering throne and belting out numbers from what I now realise was his acclaimed late comeback album, Don’t Give Up On Me. Other than that, unlike his late-60s contemporaries (Otis Redding, Aretha Frankin, Marvin Gaye, Wilson Pickett), I had somehow managed to miss out altogether on Burke. But something attracted us about the photo in the official programme (he positively radiated his title, the King of Rock ‘n’ Soul); and in any case we thought that an hour of testifyin’, almighty soul would round off the evening in a more cheerful way than doomy Cohen.

The King, throned indeed and dressed in glittering red, was already in full flow when we arrived. Jazzworld is a long, thin field where passers-by lounge at the back, sipping Brothers cider as they watch and chat from a distance. But here there was a clear delineation: no-one who watched was doing so casually; almost all were standing; many of them dancing. Burke had love and soul to spare, and he wanted all comers to share it. Despite being immobile, we felt as if he embraced us all.

I don’t remember what was in the set. Without doubt it included Mustang Sally and Sittin’ On the Dock of the Bay. Almost certainly there was Everybody Needs Somebody To Love, the brilliantly rousing Burke number that Wilson Pickett later made big (not without namechecking its writer at the start). There might also have been Down In The Valley, famously covered by Otis Redding. Burke was a great songwriter as well as an interpreter; but at this gig, everything fitted together in one soulful whole, backed by a superbly smooth band and the expected quota of slinky backing singers. During that hour, you could really believe in the transformative power of music – and there aren’t many performers you can say that about.

Since then, I’ve bought two albums by the great man: a Very Best of Solomon Burke, which covers his seven early years with Atlantic Records; and Soul Alive!, the live comeback album from the 80s which showcases all of the qualities I’ve raved about above. Both are recommended without reservation.

Soul Alive! contains a stunning extended version of I Can’t Stop Loving You – so while we’re about it…