I haven't written about Etta James because, well, because I had nothing much to add to the conversation. But maybe I do have one thing to add, and that would be the sense of overwhelming tragedy that seemed to engulf her.
From drugs and miscegenation to Presidential politics and celebrity power, James seemed to always find herself getting fucked over: she is, despite the huge respect she is held in, a tragic figure of sorts. Billie Holiday is a comparison, but a Holiday who survived before being felled by cancer. Yet within that survival was an antagonistic loss. Who else could have Beyonce portray her in a movie and still get fucked over? Who else could have her greatest hit preempted?
James move was almost clichéd: from Gospel to white man's label, to an affair with the owner, heroin addiction and a final act of redemption swept away in the callous decision to have Beyonce sing "At Last" at Obama's inauguration.
And that's all I have to say about Etta James: she was a great singer who lived the blues very well.