For the Record 3: Sam and Dave

I could have never imagined that Sam Moore lived the life he did. I like to think of myself as an "out of the box" and worldly person, but this book caught me totally off guard. It was heartbreaking, triumphant, and candid. I probably could have guessed about the number of children he has, but that wasn't the least bit shocking compared to some of the other stuff. I found it hard to imagine all the stuff he put himself through before getting to Stax: mother pulled a gun on him, stabbed, children, shot, jail time, Jesus Christ! A great read, no doubt, and none of that after school special stuff. If parents don't want their children to do drugs, this is the book to read. I couldn't put it down and couldn't stop crying.

The fact that this book is both out of print and so readily available used suggests that someone either mis-marketed this book or overestimated the demand for such an account. This is a shame, because Sam Moore's narrative is both emblematic of soul music and free of cliche. Because editor Dave Marsh steps out of the way, and because Sam is so frank and open, we get a wonderful story unencumbered by an obvious "form" or plot arc. Sam's story is rich with all of the classic themes of growing up in the gospel church and leaving that behind for popular music, fame, fortune, and sin, but it is never forced to fit any tropes--even when Sam is a heroin addict, for example, we never get the walking-zombie caricature so common in movies and novels. Plenty of sex, drugs, rock-and-roll, and redemption here.

Sam Moore is one of the greatest voices of soul music (even if he says he doesn't think so). In this book, he tells his own story in his own words, and that story is by turns triumphant and tragic, funny and harrowingly sad. The highs of "Soul Man" and "Hold On, I'm Coming" are here, and so are the lows of Sam's drug addiction and the loss of a partner to the same habit. Sam cuts no corners, and pulls no punches. He bluntly tells of his early years, when he would do almost anything to get what he wanted, and the price he ultimately paid for that. But this is no unrelenting sob story. The spirit and great good humor of the man behind the music comes through. This is nowhere more evident than in Sam's recounting of his marching band days, when he fooled almost everyone (including his band teacher, Cannonball Adderley, no less), at least for a while, into thinking that he could play the saxaphone. Sam also gives a thorough personal glimpse into the making of the great Stax sound, taking the reader into the studio (a converted Memphis movie house) as those wonderful hits were created. Maybe the best thing about the book is that, by the end, you know that Sam's story is not over, and there's more great music to come. The heart and the soul and the voice are as strong as ever, and you want to hear more. For soul fans, this book is a must, but this honest self-appraisal will reach out and grab anyone.