I have oft discussed my awkward teenage years and my sundry tastes which precluded me from any real sense of social acceptance in suburbia Texas, but I’m not bitter. No, that odd taste of mine had me singing to Etta James at the tender age of 15, with “Trust in Me” being on continual loop. I just really identified with Etta’s robust spirit, unapologetic romanticism, and her unwillingness to simply behave.
Like any great creative, she was riddled with personal demons, which made her performances that more raw, that more real, and just that better to belt to in the privacy of your own room. Etta was a fighter, as her old habits caught up with her throughout life, but she remained the flaxen-haired spitfire to the end, performing for sold-out crowds with her inextinguishable talent and sass.
And in that same token, I will remain belting her tunes in the privacy of my home, as it is only befitting.