Legends Never Say Goodbye

As we lost the great musical architect, Mr. Jerry Wexler, last week, a significant chapter in the story of the music industry has closed. This is not to say we merely move on or carry the torch into the future with no regard for the past, rather to acknowledge the visionaries that came before us and respect their wholehearted dedication and admiration for the artist community. Early in his career, as a writer for Billboard in the late 40’s, Jerry Wexler blazed a path for a groundbreaking new genre, one that he referred to as “rhythm and blues.” This new sound not only crossed the racial barriers of this country, it destroyed them in the eyes of the record buying masses.

After teaming up with fellow music aficionados Ahmet Ertegen and his brother Nesui at Atlantic Records, Wexler began what would later be known as a masterful career, propelling talents like Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Dusty Springfield, and Wilson Pickett to instant stardom. He found another musical/production partner in Arif Mardin, and their teamwork spawned some of the most forward thinking, soulful music this nation has ever heard (the Memphis soul sound for example, the tonality and structure behind Springfield’s Dusty in Memphis record). He treasured soul, and his ear for the music that drove his passion was unparalleled.

Mr. Wexler was a part of a team that loved music, the notes and the artist. They would spend countless hours figuring our how to get the sound “right” or whom to pair their artists with in order to make the records pop. Of course they wanted hits, to argue the opposite would be blissfully ignorant, but those hits formulated as the result of a profound respect and admiration for music. Men like Ahmet Ertegun, Jerry Wexler, and Arif Mardin lived and breathed music. They collected and tirelessly sought new records, they constantly attended shows, and were there to support and develop the artist, not just sign a contract and move on to the next client. Their work is evidence of this great love affair. They were true music men, and the fact that they ran a business, well, that happened by default. Again, not to say they did not intend to make a buck, but the motivation was not the buck, it was the note, that one magical note that would bring a smile to those people huddled around the record player.

The industry that was formed as the result of people like Mr. Wexler has morphed into something unrecognizable. There are few men left, which, at the end of the day, are there for the discovery, for the thrill. Does the art suffer? You bet it does, but that is for another essay. Here we say farewell to these great men, but these great men will never say farewell to us. Their music, their passion, their ear and their dedication will always be with us, humming through the notes that made up their lives.