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Transcript

This is 80: Soul Legend Bettye Lavette Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire

"I’ve been to bed with everybody I’ve ever thought of going to bed with. I’ve sung everywhere I’ve ever dreamed of singing. I could stand to have one of those 8 Grammys I’ve lost, but not much else."
From the time I was 10, I’ve been obsessed with what it means to grow older. I’m curious about what it means to others, of all ages, and so I invite them to take “The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire.”
Sometimes you’ll find responses from writers, musicians, and artists you’ve heard of—like well, Bettye Lavette! And Kate Pierson, Neko Case, Rosie O’Donnell, Ava Duvernay, Jerry Saltz, Lucy Sante, Ricki Lake, Hilma Wolitzer, Elizabeth Gilbert, Judith Viorst, Cheryl Strayed, Deesha Philyaw, Chloe Caldwell, etc. But more often it will be people (of all ages) you haven’t heard of, Humans of New York-style. (Check out all the Oldster interviews…)
Here, singer Bettye LaVette—considered by many to be the greatest vocal interpreter of soul and R&B—responds, in a video interview that was condensed and edited as text below. With big thanks to guitarist/singer-songwriter Ann Klein, my friend who plays in Lavette’s band and put us in touch. -Sari Botton
PS If you’re enjoying the work I do here at Oldster, please consider helping me keep going by becoming a paid subscriber. 🙏

Bettye Lavette a few years ago. Portrait by Mark Seliger.
From the Blues Foundation, which in 2020 inducted Bettye Lavette into its Hall of Fame: Bettye LaVette had a hit singing blues as a teenager on her first record, “My Man” on Atlantic in 1962, and though her repertoire has evolved into one of the most eclectic imaginable, blues audiences have embraced the depth and passion of her performances, no matter what she may sing. No one puts more of herself into her songs with such soul-baring drama than Bettye LaVette.
However LaVette may identify herself as a song interpreter, her life story could certainly be turned into a series of blues songs. Her autobiography, A Woman Like Me, begins with a pimp dangling her over the ledge of a 20-story building and brazenly recounts her years of struggles, catastrophes, and dashed hopes, pulling no punches about herself or anyone else. Onstage she exudes the same brash boldness.
Born Betty Jo Haskins in Muskegon, Michigan, on January 29, 1946, she was raised briefly in Pontiac and mostly in Detroit in a house where her parents sold corn liquor to a clientele that included R&B and gospel singers. She adopted the name Betty LaVett when she first recorded, later modifying the billing to Bettye LaVette. An introduction to singer, producer, and songwriter Johnnie Mae Matthews led to the hit recording of Matthews’ song “My Man,” and despite cutting many more records over the years, some of them (“Let Me Down Easy” in particular) regarded as soul classics, LaVette never enjoyed another Top Ten record. Some 45s generated chart action, but spurts of success ended in misfortune or in lack of interest or promotion by record labels, and LaVette sometimes had to take other jobs or find local club gigs to support herself. Joining the cast of the Broadway musical Bubbling Brown Sugar kept her going for several years.
LaVette’s perseverance into the new millennium finally set her on the road to widespread acclaim. Soul and blues aficionados not only sought out her old records but discovered that as a live performer she was even more exciting—even stunning. One such LaVette devotee, Kevin Kiley, brought her not only continuing support, but also wedded bliss. European labels issued a live CD and rescued a Muscle Shoals album that had been kept in the can by Atlantic. A U.S. album on Blues Express netted her a Handy Award from the Blues Foundation in 2004, and she subsequently was voted best female artist in both the contemporary blues and soul blues categories in the Blues Music Awards. Her unique adaptations of songs from country singers, British rock groups, Bob Dylan and other sources on albums for ANTI-, Cherry Red and Verve earned GRAMMY nominations in the fields of R&B, Americana, and blues. Rosebud Agency bookings, blues and soul festival appearances, performances at the Kennedy Center and the inauguration celebration for President Obama, and television guest spots brought her profile into well-deserved prominence at last.

How old are you?

I turned 80 years old on Friday, January 30th. It has always been my belief, though, that there are no children in show business. And I believe I was 80 at about 50. Really it’s a business that ages you, because it takes you so fast, but it continuously forces you to look healthy and act better. But we are the oldest people in the world. And when you look at little children in show business that idea, “Oh, but they’re so cute.” If they’ve been in show business for a year, they aren’t cute. They’re just little things that have been taught to look cute.

I wouldn’t want to be young again for any reason. I know all the confusion that being young brings, and being young, you don’t know that it’s bringing it.

Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?

No, not really because I have a daughter and two grandchildren, and I can listen to them and reflect upon when I was that age. They’re almost sections of the ages that I’ve been. I’ll go to my granddaughter who is the youngest, Marissa, for fashion advice, certainly internet advice. I’ll call my grandson in the middle of the night and say, “Which button do I push to do this?” And really, they are the youth in me in terms of what’s happening today. I’m still doing the same thing that I’ve done since 1962. They’re all just helping me with it now, but I don’t want you to be able to reach me at any time. I don’t want to walk around with something in my hand looking down at it all day, but they do.

So I’m happy to let my daughter be 65 and just retired from the Board of Education in Michigan. I am happy that my granddaughter, who has just turned 35, has just gained a degree in psychology from the University of Michigan. I am happy that my grandson, who’s just turned 40, has become a sommelier. And the only thing I knew about wine before was, this one will make you drunk and that one doesn’t work so well. So they’re the extensions of me and I’m able to use them and I do.

Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?

I’m not absolutely in step with my peers. When you get to be this age, half of my peers are dead. But the people that are like me, I feel a little bit out of step with a lot of them because while I have an existence of champagne and marijuana, I drink lots of water and work out and eat absolutely correctly. That’s all I’m willing to do.

When I’m on the stage, I tell the audience I have these lyrics in front of me because I am suffering from “CRS”—Can’t Remember Shit. I mean, the people who come to see me at this point, of course, I’m grateful there are some younger ones, but the older ones understand everything I’m talking about.

What do you like about being your age?

The fact that when I say something to you, I mean it, and I know exactly why I mean it. I wouldn’t want to be young again for any reason. I know all the confusion that being young brings, and being young, you don’t know that it’s bringing it. So I feel it’s kind of a superiority. I know, as other singers go, if you’re younger, they will think of something to jump on you and just beat you down because you’re younger.

And if you’re my age, it depends on how well you’ve kept yourself. I think of this business still competitively. I don’t care how many kumbaya songs we sing. That little [Grammys] show that they did Sunday night shows you that it is a competition.

When I first came to New York in 1963, I worked with Don Gardner and Dee Dee Ford at Smalls Paradise. If your listeners, if any of them are young, Google these names, you’ll see who they are. Wilt Chamberlain at that time owned Smalls Paradise. And I thought I owned it after Don Gardner hired me.

My waistline was about this big and my booty was big and my voice was big. And then one night, this lady came in, she owned this big wide hat with a feather in it. She had a hospital blanket around her. She owned some hospital shoes. She was shorter than me, and I’m only 5’4”. And I’m laughing with everybody that in my group is my age. And girlfriend walked up on the stage. She didn’t say shit to the band. Don Gardner just counted it off and she sang “Candy.” And the whole crowd in Smalls stopped looking at me. It was Big Maybelle. And she kicked my ass and they wouldn’t let me back on the stage. The people just went wild.

What is difficult about being your age?

Just being my age. Everything was easier when I was younger.

What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?

I only have four or five really close friends that are left, but we are so amazed at not being able to do certain things. When I’m on the stage, I tell the audience I have these lyrics in front of me because I am suffering from “CRS”—Can’t Remember Shit. And that’s what the whole audience does. I mean, the people who come to see me at this point, of course, I’m grateful there are some younger ones, but the older ones understand everything I’m talking about.

What are some age-related milestones you are looking forward to? Or ones you “missed,” and might try to reach later, off-schedule, according to our culture and its expectations?

The only thing I would want to have happen is for Ed Sullivan to come back to life. And I’ve actually, in the last 20 years, had the opportunity to do everything I want to do. I’ve been everything I ever wanted to be. I’ve been all over the world. I’ve done everything of any prestige in New York City. Really, I’ve done everything, girlfriend. The only thing I haven’t done is made enough money, so that I don’t have anything else that I’m looking forward to doing. But other than that, I try to explain to people how grateful I am and how pissed I am. Pissed because all my friends are rich. Remember, I’m from Detroit.

I can’t retire right now because I haven’t made the money that I intended to make, but I’m glad that when they sound Revelle, I show up. And that is going to have to be that way for a little while longer anyway.

I’ve actually, in the last 20 years, had the opportunity to do everything I want to do. I’ve been everything I ever wanted to be. I’ve been all over the world. I’ve done everything of any prestige in New York City. Really, I’ve done everything. The only thing I haven’t done is made enough money, so that I don’t have anything else that I’m looking forward to doing. But other than that, I try to explain to people how grateful I am and how pissed I am. Pissed because all my friends are rich.

Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?

No, they’ve all passed away. And the thing that I’m living on now is the thing that, as you talk about people who inspired you, people of that ilk. I’m living right now on the things that they taught me and the things that I’ve learned from them. I’ve been fortunate to have some of the greatest mentors, but unfortunately they’re all gone now.

Jim Lewis. I don’t know if you’ve read my book, but the book is dedicated to him and he’s the person who told me, “You’re cute and you got a cute booty, but you have to learn some things, some songs, some real songs.” And he told me that if I learned them and listened to everything he said to me, I may never be a star, but I would be able to work until I die. And what he said has turned out to be true, but I just want the other part too. All my friends are rich.

What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?

Oh, the things that I did when I was younger are what’s helping me with the things that are wrong now. I inherited arthritis badly from my mother. My mother was eventually completely crippled by it. I’m going to have my knee replaced March 31st, and I’ve had arthritis since I was 11.

It does not get any better. If you live to be 200, then it will be 200 years’ worth because it does not get any better at all. And there is still no cure for it. I have an agent who has had a shoulder, two knees, a hip, a wrist. Because I’ve worked out for 50 years, they tell me that that will help my recovery in the surgery, but it’s not going to go away. As long as I want to move, we’ll have to keep correcting everything as it happens.

Jim Lewis told me, “You’re cute and you got a cute booty, but you have to learn some things, some songs, some real songs.” And he told me that if I learned them and listened to everything he said to me, I may never be a star, but I would be able to work until I die. And what he said has turned out to be true, but I just want the other part too.

What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?

I tell my audience, I say, “I’ve made all of these commitments.” I say, “I will never wear glasses on stage. I will never go to bed smelling like Bengay.” And I say, I want you to know I’ve lied on all fronts, all of them, every single one I’ve lied on. So I’m making the adjustments that I have to make.

I have always loved to dance but I’m glad that, back to Jim Lewis, I can sit on the stage on a stool with a keyboard player and sing where some people cannot go on the stage without at least five musicians and three dancers. I don’t know what the dancers are for. But I am able to sit and entertain you for 90 minutes without having to call on too many things.

But still, this last album that I had, in fact, that Steve Jordan produced, he and I purposely put these couple of things that I really have to dance to. One joke, we’re kind of joking about James Brown, because I had a real bad problem with him early on. But if you’ve ever seen James Brown’s show, there’s one guitar player that is just constantly tk-tk-t-t-tk-tuka-tk-tuka-tuka-tk-tuka-tk. And there’s two drummers. So Steve did me one tune like that, which means that I had to dance. And I can still do that.

Bettye Lavette, center, with her current band: Left to right: Etienne Stadwijk on keyboards, Ann Klein on guitar, John Conte on bass; and Rich Pagano on drums.

What turn of events had the biggest impact on your life? What took your life in a different direction, for better or worse?

The [2008] Kennedy Center Honors. That was just magnificently produced by Michael Stevens, who is the son of George Stevens, who did at least 10 movies that you love. And he loved me and helped me. And just from a telephone call, I think about all these high-priced agents and managers.

My husband just called the Kennedy Center Honors and asked to speak to the producer and he told him, he said, “I’ve read that you’re honoring George Jones.” And he said, “I wanted to send my wife’s recording of George Jones too.” And he sent choices to him and he loved it. And he said, “There’s so many people coming from Nashville to honor George Jones.” He said, “We don’t have any more George Jones songs.” He said, “The only song we have, actually, that is left is a song by The Who.” And I said, “The what?” But my husband, who knows every song that everyone has ever recorded in the history of recording, he let me listen to it. And I said, “Well, it’s singable, but not like that.”

I had heard the name because that’s so strange for you to have that kind of name. That’s like you naming yourself a question mark to me.

I was living for that moment for longer than they had been recording. So when I saw on a video that Barbra Streisand turned to Pete Townshend, said, “Did she write that?” And I looked at Aretha Franklin, who was right in front of me. She said, “She’s still alive?” These were the things that were being said about me that I saw on the video. And then over here was Beyonce and she was like, “Who the fuck is that?” And when I talk about it on stage, I say I call it my Three Stooges slap.

Still, one of the greatest moments in my entire life.

What is your number one regret in life? If you could do it all over again, what is the biggest thing you’d do differently?

I would not have left Atlantic at 18 years old. I marched into Jerry Wexler’s office and said, “I want a release from my contract.” And he was like, “Why?” I said, “Because all of my friends,” who now I’ve been in show business almost a year, so I got friends in show business now. “My friend said that you should have released another recording on me by now, so I want a release from my contract.” And he said, “Well, we have a new guy that we’re working with. He’s got a big record right now on Dionne Warwick. His name is Burt Bacharach and he’s working with us.” I said, “I want a release from my contract.”

So Jerry Wexler gave me the release and he gave me his own personal check for $500. He said, “You are going to need this.”

His son has been so close with me ever since I met him at Jerry’s memorial service and so supportive of me. And when I told that story, he just absolutely loved it, but that is the most stupid move I have ever made. It also left a gap for them to sign Aretha Franklin.

On performing The Who’s “Love Reign O’Er Me” at The 2008 Kennedy Center Honors:

My husband called the Kennedy Center Honors and asked to speak to the producer and told him, “I’ve read that you’re honoring George Jones. I wanted to send my wife’s recording of George Jones too.” He sent choices to him and he loved it but he said, “There’s so many people coming from Nashville to honor George Jones, we don’t have any more George Jones songs.” He said, “The only song we have, actually, that is left is a song by The Who.” And I said, “The what?” But my husband let me listen to it. And I said, “Well, it’s singable, but not like that.”

What is high up on your “bucket list?” What do you hope to achieve, attain, or plain enjoy before you die?

I really, maybe don’t know anything else. I’ve been to bed with everybody I’ve ever thought of going to bed with. I’ve sung everywhere I’ve ever dreamed of singing. I could stand to have one of those eight Grammys I’ve lost, but not much else.

As I said, I’m extremely grateful. I’m just pissed. But I’m extremely grateful. It took me 50 years to find a husband who’s totally absorbed with me and I’ve done that. My children are doing things I want them to do. I’m cool. I just need three or four dollars. But other than that, I am absolutely cool.

Is there a piece of advice you were given, that you live by? If so, what was it, and who offered it to you?

Well, as I mentioned, Jim Lewis told me, “You may be a star, but learn really good songs and learn how to master them, and you’ll be able to perform for money for the rest of your life.” And that’s what I usually tell young people other than, “Don’t get in this business.” I talk to a lot of students. In fact, I did a whole thing with the University of Houston, talking to them about just singing and being in show business. It’s a class, believe it or not, it’s a Bob Dylan class. I said, “What do you learn?” They hired me and permitted me to talk to their students. And they said, “Stop telling them, ‘Don’t get in this business.’” I said, “That’s true. Really don’t.” I meant it’s different than you think.

And it’s so hard when you’re young to see past what you saw on the Grammys and to see the darker part of it. No one could have stopped me. You would’ve had to kill me to keep me from doing this. So I know how they feel, but my advice is learn all you can and really get to get proficient at whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re playing, whatever you’re singing.

And I always told the singers, “Get good enough to beat me, which none of you now as students can do. I don’t care how high you can sing. I don’t care if you take off all your clothes but a G-string. You can’t get around me. You can because of the way that the business has been fluctuated. But other than that you can’t.” It’s just like that night when Maybelle walked on the stage. I was cute and had a big booty, but I did not know what to do...

What are your plans for your body when you’re done using it? Burial? Cremation? Body Farm? Other?

I was thinking that if there was some importance that they could find for my body, I would do that. I can tell you burial is out. That’s not it. So I don’t know if I’ll donate it for science, or just go for cremation, but it’ll be one of those two.

But all that gathering up and looking at me dead. I mean, the only person that could see me without makeup would have to marry me. So no, none of that. I don’t know if my lipstick is right. No, none of that.

How do you feel about dying? And what do you expect to happen to your “soul” or “spirit” after you die?

I think that as you get older, you feel more comfortable with it than you did when you were younger. I’m not as frightened about it when I think about it as I was when I was younger. And I think that, just like a lot of other people should do, I don’t know what’s going to happen after I die and nor does any damn body else. And I just wish that everybody would just accept that. I had several of my friends, as older people do, friends, that I have done unspeakable things with.

They weren’t bad, bad. But I’ve had them tell me things like, and I won’t tell you who, “God doesn’t want me to talk to you anymore because you curse.” And I’m like, “Ooh.” So no, none of that for me. And I was raised in the Catholic Church and that’s one of the greatest brainwashing systems you could ever become involved with. A lot of my friends are turning that way right now. They were otherwise bright and intelligent people, but they can’t answer any of the questions that I ask. And then, too, I think about all the Baptist ministers who’ve done a sermon and then left and met me for lunch and went to bed with me.

At Christmas, I go to see Santa Claus every year—for 70 years. And I feel in myself that little thing for a moment, that I am absolutely an innocent child. I always tell Kevin that I never go close to him or whatever, but I always stand where he can see me. All over the world, I’ve seen him. That’s because you know he can be everywhere at the same time.

What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?

On my 80th birthday I had a completely liquid day of Champagne, and that was about it. I didn’t talk to anyone and just got on Kevin’s nerves.

I think if I hadn’t been so down this year, I have no idea what I’d have done. I can just go into these moments of depression. It’s like when the doctor asks you, “Have you ever gone to the doctor?” And they say, “Do you have any depression?” And I always say, “Yes, I’m a rhythm and blues singer. Yes.”

At Christmas, I go to see Santa Claus every year—for 70 years. And I feel in myself that little thing for a moment, that I am absolutely an innocent child. I always tell Kevin that I never go close to him or whatever, but I always stand where he can see me. All over the world, I’ve seen him. That’s because you know he can be everywhere at the same time.

Check out all the Oldster interviews…

Bettye Lavette is still touring at 80. In March alone she has six shows, including the March 12th Billy Joel tribute at Carnegie Hall. Go catch a performance if you can!

Oldster Magazine explores what it means to travel through time in a human body, at every phase of life. It’s a reader-supported publication that pays essayists and interviewers. To support this work, please become a paid subscriber. 🙏

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