Etta James died today. I’m one of the millions who danced to “At Last” on my wedding day. A few years later on our anniversary, Ted and I saw her perform at the House of Blues in New Orleans. She was… nasty. Girl definitely had a dirty streak. She was in her late 60s and she was grinding on a bar stool while she sang some of her bawdier numbers. In between songs she called out for her “cup of wine.” Her son played in her band and she seemed especially proud when she introduced him.
As much as I love “At Last,” that song is a tearjerker. Today I’d like to remember Miss James as the sassy, growling R&B performer. Take a listen.