Aretha Franklin
Aretha in Paris

"This is a song that was stolen from me by a girl".

Otis Redding 1967, six months before crashing into Lake Monona.

At 25, Aretha Franklin entered the studio to record her ninth album. Until that moment, her career hadn't taken off, yes, the voice was perfect, the sound almost... Something was missing, but she couldn't figure out what. While the band tuned their instruments and prepared, Aretha carefully reread the lyrics of a song by Otis, in which he asked for respect from his woman.

She paused, looked up. It was in that moment Aretha understood. No, you man owe me respect, I want to fight for my rights. I, along with millions of other women united, will bring about changes. You owe me RESPECT! Aretha sang, sang like never before, sang her anger fueled by centuries of subjugation, sang her freedom, with pathos and with her femininity as a black woman, sang in front of millions of subjugated and oppressed women, as if she were reading the declaration of women's rights. She sang by taking ownership of the song, transforming it with her heart and the soul of all the women who would feel—listening to her—what she felt while recording it. She sang that song writing the first feminist manifesto in history.

In Aretha's reinterpretation, the roles are reversed, the protagonist is a woman, no longer the man sung by Otis. Respect quickly became the anthem of those years of social upheaval, and the legitimate demand for respect by a woman who had been relegated to the margins for too long expanded, encompassing all sectors of a society in movement, from workers’ rights, to residual forms of apartheid, to student protests. The entire American society was asking for respect, and it did so through Aretha's splendid voice.

Paris, May 7, 1968. The evening begins with an act of courage, transforming the greatest rock anthem of the time, (I can't get no) Satisfaction, into a soul piece, keeping the pathos intact and making it better than the original. In my humble opinion, with such a voice, Aretha couldn't possibly go wrong. Soul Serenade, Baby I Love You, You Never Loved a Man... All fantastic, but the last two are chilling, Chain of Fools and Respect. This track is less "angry" than the studio version, more carefree and lighthearted, as if Aretha was already satisfied with how well-understood her message was, so she doesn't exaggerate and offers a lighter yet always effective version. The voice dominates, goosebumps flow in a magical evening. Three days later in the Latin Quarter in Paris, students and workers erected barricades, is it just a coincidence?

Mmm it doesn’t seem bad, perhaps a bit trivial but it fits. Surely "she" would have written it better.

I know, I didn't delve into all the tracks present here, I didn't write that Aretha makes all the covers her own; that from 1965 to 1972 she made no mistakes, that this album is considered by many to be the perfect live soul (though some at the Apollo Theatre dissent), that it is still relevant today and better than any nu-soul, modern-soul, or whatever-soul work ever released... But who cares!

Listening to it brings a tear to my eye, I quickly wipe it away and go to prepare dinner for the grandchildren (my sister's kids), showing off my best smile and trying to smooth that mass of hair that at 20 you wear with ease and at my age you miss. Meanwhile, we set the table, the stereo continues to delight us with Soul Serenade, we take turns miming the song passing the spoon, pardon, the microphone, making funny faces and very soulful yelps...