Seated behind his organ at Stax Records’ recording studio in Memphis in the Sixties, Booker T. Jones was a first-hand witness to musical history. As part of Booker T. and the MG’s, Stax’s house band, Jones played on soul landmarks by Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Carla Thomas and especially Sam & Dave. Two days ago, Jones heard, like most of the world, that Sam Moore had died at the age of 89, depriving American music of another legend. (His on-and-off musical partner Dave Prater died in 1988.)
Once Jones left Stax in 1970, the same year Sam & Dave broke up for the first time, Jones and Moore only worked together sporadically for the occasional tour or one-off performance (like at the White House soul tribute show in 2017). But nearly 60 years after their first sessions together, Moore continues to leave an indelible imprint on Jones, who spoke with Rolling Stone about the public and private Sam Moore.
Sam was just one of those personalities. When he walked into the room, he didn’t have to do much. He was there and the attention went to him. You meet people like that sometimes. We also understood each other musically. There was a lot unsaid, and we were musical brothers. It was very easy to accompany him on a song. It was easy to know where he wanted to go, because we had an understanding.
We didn’t have a real introduction. [Atlantic producer] Jerry Wexler just kind of called up Stax and said, “We want you guys to produce these two guys from Florida.” And there they were, the two guys from Florida.
Sam & Dave were a great venue for [producers and songwriters] David Porter and Isaac Hayes and their songs, and for me and our arrangements. It was like chemistry in a lab. Looking back, I don’t really know how all that worked. It was a little like clockwork. Everybody had their role, and the music was flowing or not flowing. Those are some of the greatest moments of my life.
Everybody took their position. I’d be at the organ. David [Porter] was always standing behind Sam, gesturing. I don’t know what he was saying into his ear, but Sam was definitely the lead singer. He set the tone of the song.
Then it would be one or the other on the mic. When we did “When Something Is Wrong with My Baby,” Dave sang the first verse, and then, as I wrote in my book, Sam came in and “appeared determined to take his time. And when the chorus arrived, it came as a relief and a release.” Seeing it unfold was a beautiful experience.
When you’re accompanying people, you may think, “Well, maybe the singer should be little bit up, a little bit down, a little more in pitch.” But that never happened with Sam. He always knew where the note was and how to hit it. I don’t know if he did any breathing exercises. I never saw him do any of that stuff. It was just natural.
Sam also loved being on stage. He would jump down off the stage and go out into the audience. He wanted to be close to the people. My mind goes to the intensity of [the late Sixties soul singer] Jackie Wilson. When Jackie left the stage, all of his clothes were soaked. And the same with Sam Moore. He left everything out on a stage. On the European tour [the Stax/Volt Revue, 1967], I called Sam “the pacemaker” for the tour. He set the tone for the shows. Otis was the biggest star, so he closed the show, but even Otis was nervous after Sam had been on the stage.
Sam and Dave were a team, a consummate team. Oh my God. When they were on stage, I would be just watching them. It’s amazing to watch guys who could sing and dance at the same time. It’s like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time. It was just mesmerizing to the band and the audience. I also got feeling that a lot of the moves that he and Dave made were orchestrated by Sam.
Sam wasn’t one much for talking about himself or revealing his nature. Whatever was bothering him backstage, he let go of that and gave it all. And he and Dave were discrete and private. There was no backstage talk that I was able to discern about their relationship. I’ve learned more about Sam in the past couple of days [reading his obituaries] than I knew for a long time. I was surprised. Sam was obviously an experienced street person. I read that he and Dave had differences. That shocked the hell out of me. It seemed like they were so close and read each other’s minds on stage.
When we played at the White House in 2017, his voice held up, beautifully. I don’t know of anyone to compare him to that area.
I will miss him and this beautiful set of lungs and this beautiful tonal understanding and ability to execute. He set a standard of hitting notes and holding them, and the notes being full of feeling and being very physical. I was fortunate. Working with that guy, it’s like somebody gave me a piece of gold, and there’s no monetary replacement for something like that.
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