When Otis Redding died [in Madison] I didnt know what was going on. When Wilson Pickett, died I cried. He was the first soul singer I heard, and the most direct, and the guy who got me into the thing. Wilson Pickett. I died in front of 40 people 0nce trying to replicate Mustang Sally. It isnt possible. His is irreproducible art. Midnight Hour was an oldie. But it was totally different than any other. The time and the place become one with the feel. The scream of anticipation and fruition that anybody could get. Everybody Needs Somebody. Huzzah beyond Solomon! Acing Eddie Floyd: 634-5789! [A Racine Exchange!] Windows into depths was Wilson. Even with Sugar, Sugar, he could find the reality that was otherwise apparently completely dormant. It is he who could take Hey Jude and turn it into screaming pathos beyond the pale. In the dark limousine in The Commitments. Wilson Pickett!
Wilson Screaming Soul Pickett Poem
My room in the house on North Bay Drive
Waiting for Bob - gone now too - La France
to pick me up in the Long Red AMC Marlin
All anticipation in the night of Nitty Gritty
Playing Wilson Pickett's Greatest Hits
Getting psyched
When Everybody Needs Somebody shook the radio
running to Soulville to get the 45
Just last summer groking on the doo-wap Detroit Falcon orginal
I Found a Love. Stopped and Mortified.
Wilson has been all that time by my side.
If you have ever heard If You Need Me wailing on little car speakers
then you know what I am talking about.
Rest, Wilson, rest in peace.
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