[BILL WITHERS, 1938-2020]
BILL WITHERS was my first true idol. His debut album, Just As I Am, came out in May 1971, four months after I was born. When I first heard his songs, either on the radio or on my dad’s records, I knew that I was hearing something different. His music and his vocals were as down-to-earth as the earth itself. Too often, black artists get classified as otherworldly talents (Michael Jackson, Prince) or gritty, up-from-the-streets hustlers who are barely overcoming animal instincts (too many to name). Withers was something else: a black everyman, a superb, sensitive, soulful singer-songwriter who understood, and was able to communicate, the life that most of us live. He wrote about love, about loneliness, about anger, about sadness, about humor — all…
