Trying to be a soul singer: And then I went viral!

When you sing or play pop, jazz or gospel music, sometimes you envy African-American musicians who swing so easily.

Ever listen to those British pop groups that had a hard time  imitating Chuck Berry or B.B. King? Or maybe Pat Boone in the 1950s “whitewashing” songs by Little Richard and Fats Domino.

In 2008, I joined a gospel-style choir called Mosaic Harmony, made up at least two-thirds of white people at a Unitarian church in Oakton, VA. The lively leader, David North, who was also a pastor, inspired us wonderfully with music taken from the black religious tradition. But he struggled mightily to get us to clap and sway back and forth the way real gospel choirs did effortlessly. “Clap your hands like you mean it,” he might have said.

As a wanna-be singer and pianist myself, I am challenged in the same way when I take on the music of Motown, Ella Fitzgerald or do-wop groups like the Stylistics.

So it was with great trepidation that I took the song “A House Is Not a Home” to Gil Baskerville, a local music teacher, to unleash my inner Luther Vandross.

I did not realize that Gil, a former band teacher at Halifax County High School, had seen the late Luther Vandross sing four times and had won a contest himself long ago for singing the same song.

“I’ve never heard it done like a Broadway standard before,” he said, as I sang and played it on piano as written by Burt Bacharach for the musical “Promises, Promises.” “If you want to sound like Luther, don’t belt it out. Drag out the song into almost a whisper,” he said.

I tried , but I just couldn’t hold my breath long enough. “How would you sing it to your wife? I’ll bet you wouldn’t shout it in her ear,” he said. “Think of the lyrics, how you are sad and want her back. Almost in tears.”

“I would never sing to her like that,” I said.

“Nobody really would. We just pretend,” he joked.

I couldn’t stop laughing

We played videos over and over of the great Luther belting out the song, crying and lamenting his lost love.

We kept trying repeatedly. I just couldn’t get it.

“I think you did a good job at singing it as a jazz standard,” Gil said finally. Yes, I agreed. I will stick with that.

I sadly made a momentous decision: I am not Luther Vandross!

I was astonished to see that a video I made of the song has gotten 1,200 views already on YouTube in one week! If you want to see my song, click here.

Gil teaches guitar, horns, piano, vocals  and most instruments at his studio in South Boston, at 830 Wilborn Ave. His wife, Marlene, teaches piano there too.

Besides individual adults and children  he has been teaching home-schoolers in groups at his studio. A long-time saxophone player, Baskerville plays in the soul-oriented band, NuSoul.

Navigating the flood of 2025

 “Mike, our car has only 23 miles of electric charge left,” Pickett told me on the phone. “That’s not enough to get home with U.S. 501 shut down.”

So began a family adventure to get her back during a week of serious flooding in Halifax County. About five inches of rain fell in our area in one night, and the main artery from South Boston to Durham, N.C. was closed on July 7. Several motorists had to be rescued in the county.

After the rain stopped, the GPS was useless in finding alternate routes to the Mayo power plant in North Carolina, where our Tesla was parked with Pickett inside. The GPS didn’t really know which of many roads were blocked by flooding.

So, I got out an old-fashioned Halifax County paper map and followed the route suggested by someone on Facebook:  Go north from Cluster Springs to South Boston, east to Midway and south pastVirgilina, then follow Highway 49.

Rather than go alone in our pickup truck, I persuaded my daughter Sara and her 8 and 10-year-old children to go with us in their car. The kids were bored and wanted to go some place interesting, but the ride was uneventful.

I’m glad the drive didn’t last over a half-hour. It was terribly hot, and Pickett didn’t use the air conditioning, which would have run down the charge even more. After we arrived, she got into the back seat with two very restless and squirming children for the return home.

Two days in a row she drove back down to the flood scene at Hyco River, three miles south of Cluster Springs, to see if the route was open yet.

Pickett suggested I ride my e-bike down U.S. 501 while the route was closed. There is always too much traffic but not this time on Thursday. I whizzed the 3 miles to the scene, only to find the road open! I posted my scoop on Facebook and turned around quickly to get home before the traffic from North Carolina picked up.

We drove back down once more, and Pickett took the Tesla back home, with six miles of charge left.

I still love our electric car, but I sure wish there were more charging stations.

 

 

From stage fright to stage bows

 You have heard of “stage moms,” who drive their kids mercilessly to become theatrical stars. I just realized I am a “stage grandpa.”

“We’ve got to find summer camps for the kids,” my wife told me as two grandchildren and their mom prepared to spend at least two months with us.

All are staying at in our little house next door while the dad is working a new job in Rock Hill, S.C., and the family prepares to sell a house in Christiansburg, VA andbuy another.

So I signed up our 10-year-old granddaughter Aria into a two-week theater camp to perform the musical “Frozen Jr.” run by the Clarksville Community Players.

She agreed to go but she seemed unhappy as she went through 10 recordings of her audition song.

Pickett told friends that Aria had stage fright and would probably be a stage hand. “No!” I shouted. “She will be an actress, a singer and a dancer.”You’ve heard this before: “I’m going to make you a star.” (Maybe from the musical “Gypsy.”)

Aria carpooled with Frankie, a neighbor with his own stage parents, every day for two weeks at the Clarksville Fine Arts Center.

“I’m tired,” I kept hearing after the six and seven-hour rehearsals. If she was having a good time, I sure couldn’t tell.

Word got around in our extended family about our granddaughter’s premiere. Four other grandchildren from California were going to be in town also with their parents, and they planned to come too.

I bought 11 tickets! On opening night there was a full house to see the fabulous sets, costumes and performances by kids who had been practicing just 10 days at the Clarksville Fine Arts Center.

Aria was not the star, I’ll admit. But she smiled as she danced and sang vigorously with the others.

After her dad presented her with flowers, I asked her what she thought. “I like theater! I want to be in their show next year!” 

“I thought you had stage fright,” I said. Brimming with confidence, she answered: “Oh, no. Not anymore.” Aria is hooked!

Meanwhile, Aria’s brother had no interest at all in camps of any kind. Bryce, age 8, rejected all of them and instead listened to funny videos on his mom’s mobile phone. Until….

Lance, his dad, has suddenly taken an interest in golf. His work colleagues play it in South Carolina, and it’s good for business.

Lance learned the same thing I did when I became an avid skier. If you want to go off and do a sport, get your kids interested. Then you can say, “I’mdoing it for the family.”

So Lance showed Bryce “Happy Gilmore,” a movie about a boy who took up golf. “I want to go to a golf camp,” Bryce said.

“Around here?” His grandmother Pickett said. “Not likely.”

But then a miracle happened. I got on the Internet, typed in “Golf camps, South Boston, Virginia” and up popped” Greens Folly golf camp for kids, June 23 through 26.”

I was amazed that he was the only kid of 20 there who didn’t own his own clubs. But Green’s Folly loaned him some, and he thrived at chipping, driving and putting.

“It’s my favorite sport!” He told me later. His sister wants to join him in the next golf camp July 21-24. Inspired, five grandchildren and their parents went to the course’s driving range with me the day before the musical show. Three went the next day.

What could be better? Stage grandpa working with Coach Dad!

What I like

These are a few of my favorite things:

Local site for tourists: Cage sculpture garden.

South Boston dinner restaurants: Molasses Grill, Paco’s.

South Boston lunch restaurants: Wendy’s,

Southern Plenty, Shangrila-la, Applebee’s.

Clarksville restaurants: Los Banditos,  BridgewaterBar & Grill, Cooper’s Landing.

Durham restaurants: Mirachi’s Indian Kitchen and Bar, Bleu Olive.

Danville restaurants: Moon River Thai, Rustic Barn (west of town)

TV News; None. I get too rattled watching it.

Radio stations: WNCU 90.1 (jazz) WHLF 95.3 (local and 80s), VBN (classical 90.1), WCPE  (Classical 89.7.)

Pop band: Steely Dan

Rock song: “Gimmie Shelter,” Rolling Stones.

Jazz standard: “On Green Dolphin Street”

Dessert: Key line pie

Fruit: Bananas.

Steaks: Medium rare.

Cereal: Wheat Chex, All Bran

Vegetable: Beets

Clothier: L.L. Bean

Month: October

Pro teams: Washington Commanders, WashingtonNationals, Golden State Warriors, Carolina Hurricanes.

Participant sport: Cycling. 

College teams: California, Duke, North Carolina

Holiday: Thanksgiving

Beer: Dogfish Head

Wine: Blue Dog wine

TV show: Law & Order

Recent movie: “Wicked”

Old movie: “North by Northwest”

Coffee: Peet’s, Starbucks.

Time of day: 6 a.m. (I write my columns then.)