Bettye LaVette: A Woman Scorned
If the citizens of Detroit need any further inspiration when it comes to rebuilding their city, they only have to look at the rebirth of one of its long-neglected daughters, Bettye LaVette. Since emerging from obscurity with I’ve Got My Own Hell To Raise, her 2005 debut album for Anti Records, LaVette has become a prominent figure in the neo-soul movement, racking up a string of accolades and high-profile appearances. These have included singing “A Change Is Gonna Come” with Jon Bon Jovi at President Obama’s inauguration and serenading Kennedy Center honoree Pete Townshend with his own “Love Reign O’er Me.”
It’s been a decade that has in many ways launched an entirely new career for LaVette, and today at 66, she remains a remarkable physical specimen, with a voice that’s proven adept at tackling material by artists outside of the soul sphere, from Fiona Apple to Dolly Parton. But what is most remarkable about LaVette’s recent work is how she uses her interpretive skills to describe in plain terms how many times the recording industry has pulled the rug out from under her, on top of the general trials of being a female R&B singer in a male-dominated business.
LaVette’s latest album, Thankful N’ Thoughtful, stays true to that approach, featuring gloriously re-imagined versions of Bob Dylan’s “Everything Is Broken,” The Black Keys’ “I’m Not The One,” Neil Young’s “Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere” and Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy.” There are still plenty of great soul singers out there, but what continues to make LaVette stand out is how, in this age of Adele, every song she adds to her repertoire likewise seems to add another facet to her personal tale of struggle and heartbreak.
To coincide with Thankful N’ Thoughtful, LaVette has put her life story in her own words with A Woman Like Me, an autobiography co-written with noted R&B historian David Ritz, which is sure to generate a lot of discussion among the genre’s aficionados. Some of the book’s more salacious revelations include LaVette turning down a marriage proposal from Otis Redding and later coming close to ushering Stevie Wonder into manhood, carrying on a lengthy affair with Aretha Franklin’s first husband Ted White and witnessing Diana Ross (referred to as “Diane” throughout the book) receive a beat-down in a Detroit club by the vengeful wife of Motown songwriter Brian Holland.
On every page, LaVette’s unflinching honesty strips away much of the varnish that has accumulated over the decades when it comes to the stories surrounding labels such as Motown, Atlantic and the artists who recorded for them. Overall, the book paints a grim picture of what it was like to be an aspiring black female recording artist in the ‘60s and ‘70s, when managers and label heads were often, as LaVette’s own experiences illustrate, little more than pimps. And while LaVette also admits to doing her share of drugs, she credits her vanity for keeping her away from the needles and pipes that wound up claiming so many of her friends and associates.
“Thank goodness you get something for giving up your youth,” LaVette says on the phone from the New Jersey home she shares with husband Kevin Kiley, a soul scholar she met in 2000 who has been instrumental in bringing her back into the spotlight. “Other books by my contemporaries were written after they became stars, and if that had been the case with me I’m sure my book would have had a completely different slant. But quite some time ago I reached a point where I became who I feel I was meant to be, and I stopped worrying about making an impression on people. If someone reads this book and says, ‘I don’t like her,’ I say good, that’s one more person’s name I don’t have to remember.”