WASHINGTON — Could you believe in a dream when I tell you that it’s true?
Could you believe, precious friend of mine?
And would you believe when it seems you are glad with what you do?
Give you courage to carry, give you courage to carry
Courage to carry your spirit up on high
Just to carry your spirit up on high
-Al Jarreau, “Could You Believe“
Al Jarreau performed that song on his Grammy Award-winning album “Look To The Rainbow,” which was recorded in front of a live audience in Europe — a continent where he would enjoy stardom from then on. You could hear the emotion and earnestness in his voice, almost as if to illustrate that his dreams were coming to fruition right there on that stage.
That was one of the first times the world learned the stage was more than just a place to display his unique brand of “vocal acrobatics” — it was his bully pulpit of joy. Jarreau spread that joy over the course of six decades, releasing 20 albums and traveling all over the world to share it.
Just hours before the 59th annual Grammy Awards on Sunday in Los Angeles, Jarreau — the 7-time Grammy winner and first artist to claim victories in three categories (pop, jazz, and R&B) — died in a Los Angeles-area hospital only days after being admitted with exhaustion and forced into retirement.
We could all be so lucky to wear ourselves out the way Jarreau did. The son of a Seventh-Day Adventist minister, Jarreau began singing as a toddler and didn’t stop until he drew his last breath. One of those final breaths sang the theme from TV’s “Moonlighting” to nurses, a song he wrote.
That’s the kind of man Jarreau was. While I never personally got the chance to share a stage with him (my flavor of baritone is best shared with as few unsuspecting karaoke patrons as possible), I was fortunate enough to meet him.
In 2000, Jarreau’s “Tomorrow Today” tour reached the DC-area and my brother and I excitedly attended both the concert at Merriweather Post Pavilion and his CD-signing at Circuit City in Landover. Among the first in line, we not only procured the cherished autograph, we were also able to share a few jokes and encouraging words. I was even able to get a hug from Jarreau as we departed.
I’ll never forget that encounter. Not just because I got to meet a man whose music remains the soundtrack to every phase of my life, but because it’s one of the rare instances in which an admirer meets their childhood hero and reality far exceeds reasonable expectations.
I’m not the only one who feels that way about Jarreau. Claude McKnight of the acapella group Take 6 — who will pay their respects to Jarreau by performing in his stead at Howard Theatre on Friday — joined WTOP via phone Sunday night, and told the tale of his first experience with Jarreau. Take 6’s first major U.S. tour was with Jarreau but they were never made to feel that way. “He never treated us as just opening acts…we were on stage with him and he was always gracious,” McKnight said.
That account echoes a powerful passage of the death announcement on his website: “His 2nd priority in life was music. There was no 3rd. His 1st priority, far ahead of the other, was healing or comforting anyone in need. Whether it was emotional pain, or physical discomfort, or any other cause of suffering, he needed to put our minds at ease and our hearts at rest. He needed to see a warm, affirming smile where there had not been one before. Song was just his tool for making that happen.”
What a tool it was. His voice was one of a kind. Nobody could scat like Al Jarreau. Few possess his range or the versatility to provide both a party anthem and the soundtrack for a romantic evening with the one you love. Jarreau was basically a human jukebox.
“Al was able to walk in different styles of music,” McKnight added. “I think you had a lot of younger pop artists — people like Boyz II Men — who were Al Jarreau fans and a lot of our other contemporaries who were listening to Al and got the chance to share the stage with him.”
Bobby Caldwell, George Benson, Terrance Blanchard, Lenny Kravitz, Siedah Garrett, Ledisi, Marcus Miller and Cassandra Wilson were just a few of those contemporaries expressing sorrow in his passing Sunday. Musicians aren’t the only ones in mourning: Billy Dee Williams, Octavia Spencer, Rev. Jesse Jackson, even the NCAA — where he played Division III basketball for Ripon College near his native Milwaukee — offered condolences to a man that transcended musical genre, even music itself. Jarreau’s star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and spot at the National Museum of African-American History and Culture would attest to that.
While Jarreau’s amazing tool dulled in the last decade, his contagious exuberance continued to carry his performances. Hip surgery limited his mobility through much of the 2000s, but that didn’t stop him from keeping a full tour schedule and holding concerts that felt more like an intimate gathering with a few thousand of his old friends.
I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that Jarreau died days after being forced into retirement. Some people sing for a living, but Jarreau lived to sing. As much as we enjoyed his great gift, he enjoyed sharing it that much more.
And from the beginning you’ve been
Always there my old friend
True until the end of time.–Al Jarreau, “My Old Friend“
That song is one of my earliest memories. I danced to “Boogie Down” as a toddler, grooved to “Heart’s Horizon” in elementary school, made out to “Heaven and Earth” in middle school, and made sure to “Accentuate the Positive” as an adult. Al Jarreau is the oldest friend I have. Though I’ll miss him, he’ll be the soundtrack to my life until the end of time.
