His early death denied him the opportunity to reach a final destination, but I’m not sure that Sam Cooke would have wanted to go there anyway. He knew he was headed somewhere, and his instincts led him to explore many paths along the way. While sometimes he did follow a formula (welcome to the music business), played too much to the crowd and too often tried to cash in on the latest fads, his journey through his truncated life can be characterized as a relentless drive to realize a vision of music that was constantly evolving and maturing. “You can’t just put in a ‘whoa-oh’ in every song, you got to feel it, man,” Sam told the record label owner who encouraged him to adhere to a formula. I think it’s much more accurate to describe his music as imbued with soul. He could have been the male version of Mahalia Jackson or a serious competitor to Johnny Mathis with a touch of Harry Belafonte thrown into the mix. His catalog contains everything from gospel to blues to rock to calypso to purest pop. They’ve tagged him “The King of Soul,” a highly misleading label that falls far short of describing his remarkably inclusive approach to music.
He left us with many tantalizing possibilities, but died long before his time. As strange as this may sound given the legacy he left behind, I don’t think Sam Cooke came close to reaching his full potential.
