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SYLVESTER
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"They don't need me. They have Sylvester." -David Bowie after his San Francisco debut failed to sell out
It's March 11, 1979 and San Francisco belongs to Sylvester! The city's War Memorial Opera House, which previously hosted only a handful of tame pop acts along the lines of George Benson and Carole King, is packed to capacity tonight to see Disco's truest diva. Twenty tuxedoed members of the symphony orchestra join Syl's full band and four back-up singers. Though, as a rule, he doesn't perform under the influence, the thrill of donning the first of the evening's series of shimmering sequined outfits in the Maria Callas dressing room of the Opera House seems a worthy cause to celebrate, so he washes down a hit of acid with a bottle of champagne. He is feeling good...and he is feeling r-e-a-l!
Sylvester takes the stage to an overture of his Disco anthems. The cheering mass, though certainly supplemented by converts seduced by his still fresh hit singles and rave reviews in Rolling Stone, Billboard and Melody Maker, includes a core of Sylvester fans who have considered him a superstar in the city for almost a decade. Those who haven't seen him live before, expecting this palace of culture to be transformed into a carnal bathhouse, are about to be pleasantly disappointed. Though the concert, being recorded for a live album, would end with a rousing Disco medley, along the way the shining star would use his unique falsetto as an expressive, emotional instrument on ballads, blues and standards, demonstrating pure class completely appropriate for the venue.
Sylvester's ease and joy is apparent as he banters with his friends, jokes with the adoring crowd and gets bitchy with the light guys. At one point the massive theatrical production halts as Mayor Dianne Feinstien gives Sylvester the key to the city and declares it "Sylvester Day." Even if the mayor hadn't made it official, however, it is apparent at the end of the show that it is indeed Sylvester's Day, as he turns the tables and conducts the crowd to serenade him declaring that he makes them feel Mighty Real. He did. And he still does.
"He didn't learn how to sing like that. His talent was a gift." -Gladys Knight
Sylvester James was born on September 6, 1947 into what he called "an upper middle class, black, bourgeois family in LA." Raised by his mother and stepfather, Letha and Robert Hurd, he grew up with two sisters, Bernadette Jackson and Bernadine Stevans and three brothers John James, Larry James and Alonzo Hurd. Of all his family members, though, he was most influenced by his grandmother, Julia Morgan. Syl would later boast of her being a prominent Blues singer in the 20s and 30s, and the tales he heard of her days of divadom had as much artistic influence on him as anything else he would experience.
With his grandmothers encouragement he learned to sing at (Pentecostal) Palm Lane Church of God and Christ in South Los Angeles. Even at the age of eight his dynamic style and voice were already evident, and he became a pint sized local Gospel star, touring churches in South LA and performing at Gospel conventions around California. "He was so small," his mother explained, "he used to stand on a milk box. He would tear up the church. People would be screaming and hollering and then he would go play in the parking lot." His showstopper was Aretha Franklin's debut, "Never Grow Old." Aretha would remain Syl's idol for the rest of his days.
It was also during this period that Sylvester had his first gay sexual experiences. "I was abused by an evangelist when I was 7, 8 and 9," he told the Village Voice's Barry Walters in 1988 in one of his last interviews. "He really did a number on me," Sylvester continued, "but it never made me crazy...you see, I was a queen even back then, so it didn't bother me, I rather liked it."
Like many child performers, Sylvester was precocious and difficult. As he got older and fell out of the spotlight the difficulties increased, and had serious problems with his father, who didn't like him, and his mother, with whom he constantly fought. He ended up moving in with his beloved grandmother, but troubles continued. Stifled by conventions, he began to skip school and stay out for days, hanging out at movie theaters and junk stores. When he was 16 he ran away. He lived on the Sunset Strip, "always on drugs...going out and having fun." He eventually finished high school and two years at Lamert Beauty College in LA where he studied interior decorating. He has also mentioned studying archeology and working at the Museum of Ancient History at the La Brea Tar Pits, cataloguing bones.
At some point he took some music lessons, but gave them up because they were "such a bore," and his résumé also puts him in the LA production of "HAIR." However, it should be noted that when Sylvester first gained fame several years later, he fell into a scene that practiced creative history with journalists, so many facts about his early years are tenuous. Whatever the "truth" is about Sylvester's early experiences, as a Los Angeles resident, he definitely was not in the town where he belonged. In 1967 a trip up the Pacific Coast Highway took him to the city of his destiny.
"My life started when I moved to San Francisco." - Sylvester
Sylvester was "suffocating in Los Angeles," and needed to go someplace where he could be free . . . where he could reinvent himself. He moved to San Francisco, got a dog named Greta, took psychedelic drugs, and worked as a hairdresser and window dresser. He also began singing. At the Rickshaw Lounge in Chinatown he began performing drag under the name Ruby Blue. With a gardenia in his hair, a la Billie Holiday, he channeled the Blues diva spirit of his grandmother and her contemporaries into his performance. He even started claiming Billie Holiday was his cousin ("...actually, a cousin once removed"), and this fiction wasn't malicious. It was part of his reinvention of himself inspired by the freedom San Francisco allowed him. "Here I felt free," he would tell Rolling Stone several years later, "I could do anything I wanted to 'cause I had no past."
Sylvester was also performing sacred music at the time, and kept up his Gospel chops by performing in a church choir in Oakland. Though he would later tell Melody Maker that he was no longer religious, he was probably just saying what he thought they wanted to hear (Melody Maker once referred to Gospel as, "maybe religion's only worthwhile legacy"). In truth, he referred to God throughout his career as a very real entity, and he explicitly thanks God in almost every album's liner notes, even quoting scripture (Psalms 117) on his last record. Musically he owed a great debt to the church, and though he may have strayed from a few commandments, he certainly never forgot the lessons in song he was taught each Sunday. "You had to sit through all the sermons and all the heavy," he recalled "and then the choirs would get together and the real fun would start." Even at the peak of his Disco career he would always have a Gospel portion of his live show. Though he never explained it, clearly Sylvester was an artist who had a more comfortable relationship between Christianity and sexuality than Prince, Al Green and other artists who have struggled with the contradictions of those influences. In 1970 San Francisco, the vocal training he had received in the church was about to gain him entrance into a new kind of "real fun." His reputation as a singer traveled and he was soon approached by one of the most notorious theater troupes in San Francisco. Sylvester was about to become a Cockette.
"It was a revolution in theater." - Sylvester, on The Cockettes
"No talent is no longer enough." - Gore Vidal, walking out on the Cockettes
The Cockettes were hippies in drag with appreciations of amusement, acid, astrology and the absurd. Less about shock than New York's Ridiculous Theater, which was centered solidly on scatological/gynecological elements, The Cockettes presented odd takes on classic theater and nostalgia. Their revues were basically bold, flamboyant, gay versions of "Let's Put On A Show" Garland/Rooney scenarios, with a little playful porno thrown in.
Though they had done several unannounced performances early on, their breakthrough came when they were invited to perform at a 1969/1970 New Decade's Eve bash at the Palace Theater. The Palace was a dive that showed Chinese movies during the day, but had been hosting filmmaker Steven Arnold's "Nocturnal Dreams Shows" at witching hour on the weekends. The Cockettes danced the Can Can to a recording of the Rolling Stone's "Honky Tonk Woman," in dresses and full beards and the crowd went ape. The year of Stonewall, Woodstock & the moonwalk was over, and a new decade of mystery and promise was born. Who'd have guessed that the gown of the priest at Baby New Decade's baptism and the beard of the moyl at his bris would coordinate so well...and that both would be covered in glitter!
Soon the theater was packed every Friday and Saturday night for their low budget reviews. By July they were opening for Little Richard at the Berkeley Community Theater, and were featured in Rolling Stone, Creem and Paris Match. Their fans included John Lennon, Truman Capote and Allan Ginsberg, who described their shows as, "transvestite-glitter-fairy satiric masques." Early on, however, they realized that despite the instant, visceral audience reaction, their musical revues could benefit if they actually learned how to sing, so they sought outside help.
In 1970 the Cockettes asked Sylvester to teach them to sing. He decided to show them, and added some color to the group. After his debut in the revue "Hollywood Babylon," playing an 1930s island mammy singing "Big City Blues," he soon found himself one of the Cockettes' star attractions. The Cockettes camp/absurd approach to classic show biz performances suited Sylvester's needs perfectly. Rather than goof, though, Syl utilized his statuesque, youthful beauty and emotive falsetto to channel Black Jazz and Blues divas of the twenties and thirties, bringing to life his romanticized, fantasy interpretations of Billie Holiday and his grandmother.
Under his grandmother's guidance, with her stories and even her dresses, he had grand schemes. He told Rolling Stone, "I want to do as near as possible a re-creation of what Black audiences saw in Harlem or on the South Side...I don't want to change anything. I do it in the original way." He dreamed of having an orchestra - a dream he would realize in less than decade - and he bathed in rose petals and champagne, visualizing himself on a far different plane than the rest of the pseudo-glamorous, yet grungy, troupe. His singing (he didn't act in the shows) brought the group's level of popularity to a point where they could see bigger things on the horizon. After voting out founding member Hibiscus, whose vision of free theater for the people didn't jibe with the ideas of the more ambitious of the Cockettes, the troupe decided to see if they could make it in the city where if you make it there, you could make it anywhere. They loaded up the glitter and they headed to Gotham.
In November of 1971 The Cockettes made their New York debut at the Anderson Theater in the East Village in what was one of the biggest off-Broadway openings ever. However it was also the biggest disappointment the group would experience. Though they were the bomb in SF, they were a dud in NY, and they were sent home packing with their sequin covered penises tucked between their legs. They were still popular at home, but their spirit was broken. The Cockettes staged their last performance in the autumn of 1972. However, not everything about the New York performance signified an ending. The opening act was something that impressed more than a few industry folks, and led to the beginning of a recording career that would bring some of the Cockettes' sensibilities into the mainstream. Ladies and gentleman...Sylvester & The Hot Band!
"An outrageous synthesis of Little Richard pizzazz and Harlem razzmatazz." - Jamake Mamake Highwater, on Hot Band era Sylvester, in Stereo Review
People didn't know exactly what to make of Sylvester & The Hot Band. It almost made sense, a band of competent rockers fronted by a glamorous diva, and it was probably this element of normalcy, as much as the gimmick that the diva was a big Black dude, that made Blue Thumb think this group could be successful when they signed them. The label, with releases by T-Rex and Love, was no stranger to glitter, glam, and sexual/racial ambiguities, but had a strong Jazz focus at the time. Jazz & Blues, though, were elements of Sylvester's musical persona then, so perhaps that made sense to Blue Thumb too. In 1972 the label featured two Sylvester and the Hot Band songs on the compilation Lights Out, including the powerful Sylvester original, "Why Was I Born?" In 1973 they followed with two full length releases, a self titled LP (referred to by fans as "Scratch My Flower," or "Scratch Me," because of the scratch & sniff gardenia on the cover, an homage to Billie Holiday) and Bazaar. Though both flopped, they received good reviews at the time. An overriding echo among the critics was pleasant surprise that the vocal performance demonstrated a serious, and not campy, talent.
The act combined Rock 'n' Roll thump with elements of Sylvester's Cockette "Harlem Theater" act. He appears on the back of the first LP in full flapper drag, glittered up for the seventies. Musically, prominent piano (played in concert by Sylvester at times) and horns captured the classic era he longed for. He performed barefoot in gowns and wowed crowds with his mastery of rock theatrics. While many straight or ambiguous rock stars were performing in glitter, drag and makeup at the time, crowds and critics could tell that though Sylvester was having fun, this wasn't just a game, it was real! The voice coming out of those pipes assured them of that.
Because they're so rarely heard there's a lot of disparity when people describe the music on Sylvester's first two albums. I've heard the white boys backing band described as playing Southern Rock, Boogie, Glam, Glitter, Funk, Blues-Rock, etc. etc., and they are usually dismissed as musicians. What probably hurt these albums most is the listener's need to pigeonhole the music. What's really going on here, especially on the cover-heavy first LP, is a vocal showcase. Sylvester was an interpreter who goes from Neil Young to Lieber-Stoller to Ray Charles to thirties standards with moving authority. The timbre and texture of the dynamic, sometimes harsh, falsetto is the unique, "new" element these albums offered the listener, and the musicians jobs here were merely to provide the most complimentary base to present this voice. The band included the versatile James Q. Smith on guitar, Kerry Hatch (who went on to be in Oingo Boingo) on bass and keyboards, and Neal Schon (who doesn't play on the LPs, but performed with the band) who would later be in Santana and Journey.
The last two cuts on "Scratch My Flower" clearly earmark the album as an unusual, ambitious, serious endeavor. Coming out of a remarkably not-grating version of "Whiter Shade Of Pale," the band goes into the meticulously detailed thirties rent party Blues number "Gimme A Pigfoot (and a Bottle Of Beer)." Opening with a brief spoken period sketch ("25 cents, ma'am," "Twenty five cents! Shee-it, I wouldn't pay twenty-five cents to go act nowhere!"), the spare authentic number gives a good idea of the divadom Syl was aspiring to in The Cockettes. As the song ends and the album's finale kicks in, barrelhouse piano and basin street trumpet are wiped out by the funk bass and wah-wah guitar of the closing tune: A funk-rock rendition of "My Country Tis Of Thee," which Rolling Stone called "the best piece of rock patriotism since Hendrix' Star Spangled Banner." What it really sounds quite a bit like, actually, is Prince's "AMERICA" from Around The World In A Day. In fact, the mix of diverse Rock styles, Sylvester's falsetto, and the high drama that these songs are infused with could easily be argued as powerful influences on The Artist That Used To Get Called Prince, except for the fact that I seriously doubt he ever heard any of this unjustly obscure stuff.
Bazaar also is a nice showcase for Sylvester's falsetto shout. With more originals (by the band, not written by Sylvester) and a few key covers (James Taylor's "Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight" is pretty tough) it has a more unified Rock&Soul feel than the previous album. In truth, they probably had more chance of commercial success going for the high-concept tip of the first record. Though it didn't bring the fame that was expected, the Hot Band did get to tour nationally. His return to New York, at Max's Kansas City, was a far greater success than The Cockettes trip two short years earlier had been, but clearly he was the not the star he envisioned himself being. In '74 and '75 he spent time in London and Amsterdam, hanging with Bowie and Elton, and getting ready for his return to his city. The next time out he was going to get it right.
"These women can sing, ya'll!" - Sylvester
In 1975 Sylvester returned to San Francisco and started his singing career over from scratch. In February of 1976 he made a business decision that would put him on the path to gold. Martha Wash and Izora Armstead-Rhodes were a pair of XXL divas with pipes that filled in the gaps Sylvester's striking, yet sometimes thin, falsetto left, and with senses of comedic timing suitable for the stage show Sylvester envisioned. They had been in a Gospel group News Of The World, but soon became known as Two Tons of Fun, or simply Two Tons. They would successfully back Sylvester for years, then would go on to have their own recording career. After changing their name to the Weather Girls (after a legal claim on the Two Tons name surfaced) they had the hit "It's Raining Men," and Wash would later have million sellers with the group C+C Music Factory. After auditioning them Sylvester hired Martha and Izora on the spot and they rehearsed for the first time in a Volkswagon on the way to a show in Marin County. Sylvester and Two Tons of Fun made each other considerably better performers, but it would be Martha Wash's ambition, as much as her talent, that Sylvester would most benefit from.
Soon after the trio formed, Harvey Fuqua, the legendary musical figure, was approached by Fantasy Records, a Jazz oriented Berkeley label, to scout and develop local talent. Martha Wash asked Fuqua to come to a nightclub to see her sing backup. Upon seeing the act he instead signed all three of them and set the wheels in motion for the success to follow.
Harvey Fuqua is a very interesting figure in Soul music history. He was a founding member of the Moonglows ("Sincerely," "Ten Commandments Of Love"), one of the most integral and unique Doo Wop groups. He later "discovered" Marvin Gaye, and he was a prominent writer and producer for Motown, crafting some of their most signature records, including "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." However, there is also something about Harvey Fuqua that has always seemed a little fishy to me.
When he picked up Marvin Gaye he had just broken from The Moonglows and started up a "new" group called Harvey and the Moonglows, with all new members including Gaye. One of the singers Fuqua rejected was David Ruffin, later to be megasuccessful with the Temptations, and he didn't really seem to, musically, utilize Gaye to his potential, rarely allowing him to sing lead. As far as Gaye's other potential, Fuqua knew exactly how to utilize it. If you ever see a photo of Gaye and The Moonglows, his charisma is so far above his groupmates that he almost seems to be of another species. Fuqua recognized this, dumped the rest of the guys, and then showed up on the Motown doorstep making a greeting gift of Gaye. Soon he had not only married into Berry Gordy's family (an important step to success in the Motown world) but got Marvin married into it too. Though Fuqua probably wasn't about to marry who he would have had to to get the kind of San Francisco success he was after with Sylvester, it would come eventually. However it would not be the talents of Harvey Fuqua that would bring about that success.
In 1977 Sylvester's self-titled debut came out on Fantasy. "Came out," unfortunately, would not be the right term, as the problem with this album is evident from the front cover. On it Sylvester is wearing a fairly conservative black shirt, black slacks and is wearing his hair short, neat and manly. There is a trace of lipstick and blush, but that too is fairly conservative. He is dressed as a sexy female genie, or something, on the back cover, but the damage had already been done. Mainstreaming Sylvester was not going to make him a big success, better to put the cards on the table from the get go. But Fuqua thought otherwise.
The album is pretty decent, overall. Most significant for Sylvester was that on this project he began working with Tip Wirrick, and their collaborations would prove fruitful in the near future. The lead track, Ashford and Simpson's "Over and Over," became a big hit in England, and Sylvester's personality, what Rolling Stone called "pervasive gentleness," comes through throughout the album. However, the arrangements overpower his voice at times, and at others, the material at times borders on blandness. The power of his falsetto unleashed is never explored. The record is disco-esque at times, but it didn't have what it would take to really tear up any dance floor.
Sylvester began work on the second album. He had written a ballad called "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" with Wirrick and recorded the demo. He knew that something was missing, and, after closely studying Disco music at the Billboard Dance Forum in 1978, he had some ideas. Soon after that, the group was performing at City Disco, The Bay Area's largest and most important Gay venue, and they played the demo for the lighting technician, Patrick Cowley. Cowley had been recording and performing in the Bay Area since '71, when he came from Rochester to study synthesizer at San Francisco College. Recently, he had done an experimental synth disco remix of Donna Summer's "I Feel Love" that was a local hit and soon became an international cult record. Cowley added synth overlays to "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)", and to a song called "Dance (Disco Heat)," and created the classic disco cuts that would anchor the next LP. Soon Cowley joined the troupe, and the group was soon to swelter in a hotter Disco heat of success than any of them could have dreamed of.
"People talk about the Bee Gees and all this bullshit, but there's no such thing as Disco unless there's Sylvester. His music has never lost its edge." - Martín, vocalist for the hardcore band Los Crudos
Both songs went gold in dramatic fashion. They were number one dance hits and brought Sylvester an armful of Billboard Disco Forum awards, the Dance music equivalent of Grammys. Soon Sylvester was undeniable, he was everywhere. Children across America were confused when Sylvester carried a purse when during his performance on Bandstand. The royal guards tried to ignore him as Sylvester hung around Buckingham Palace hoping to meet Prince Charles. Filmgoers caught a glimpse of Sylvester as he cameoed on the silver screen in the Bette Midler vehicle, "The Rose." Fashion watchers did a double take when Sylvester appeared in GQ..
The success was well warranted. "Mighty Real" and "Dance" are two of the greatest disco songs ever released. The sheer gayness of Cowley's production and Sylvester's exhultations were light-years removed from the cartoon camp/gay vibe of Village People, and that authenticity was felt by the dancers. The discovery and exultation of the realness Sylvester describes captures the self-realization of gayness in a place where there's finally a safeness to feel that way; in the disco. Sylvester's voice describes the ecstasy of the disco, the love, passion and lust he feels for his partner on the dance floor, and the orgasmic intensity of the experience as a whole. His specific falsetto is never more powerful than it is here.
Unlike the "natural" falsetto of Eddie Kendricks, or that of the silky, silky soulsinger Smokey Robinson, Sylvester's is "unnatural," thin and strange. Yet, like an over-the-top actor whose passion and power make his or her performance more "real" than if they were acting like an actual person, Sylvester's voice had the power to bear his soul. In the San Francisco Examiner, Barry Walters described Sylvester's falsetto as "convey(ing) the final moments of sex - the ecstasy, the release, the explosion...the instance when the soul jumps out of its skin." And of course falsetto itself, as is anything Sylvester, is a gender issue. What are the implications of a man singing in a woman's voice? While there are countless interpretations, one of the things Sylvester's powerful falsetto most relates to is a Yoruba or Native American priest, who both at times wore "drag," channeling ancestors or gods. In this case, the ancestors are the Jazz and Blues divas and the god(dess) is Aretha. And the channeling is a success.
Fantasy would prepare two more releases in 1979, The Year Of Sylvester. Stars was a four song LP length release that was Sylvester's love letter to Disco. The title track explains the magic of the dance floor where, "you are a star/Everybody is one." The nearly 11 minute cover of "I (Who Have Nothing)" is a gift to two of his biggest contingents. As a gender pun that probably only his gay fans would notice, he's up against "She," who "gives you diamonds," as his falsetto diverts attention from the phallus/thing he sings that he doesn't have...or does he? The song was recorded in London, which also pleased his huge English fan base. And overall the record was designed to be perfect for DJs. "They can drop the needle anywhere on the record and it's perfectly there. It's my first completely disco record," he explained, before adding deliberately, "And it will probably be my last."
The final recording project of the year was the live album, Living Proof, a recording of The Opera House concert. This was what he was most anxious for his fans to hear. He loved Disco, obviously, or at the very least, had a great understanding of it. Now that the world was aware of his talent as a singer, though, he longed to get closer to what he really wanted to do musically. Like Fuqua's previous protégé, Sylvester wanted to be acknowledged as a great balladeer. Unlike Gaye though, who saw himself as a potential Black Sinatra, Sylvester wanted to show that he had the passion, the power and the Soul to be an Aretha, a Patti LaBelle, a Julia Morgan. The album was designed to please Disco fans - - it opens with a Disco overture and the live portion (side 4 is studio) ends with a side length medley of his two mega hits. But in between, Sylvester got what he wanted to onto wax.
He showed off his power as an interpreter on the Beatles' "Blackbird," he got back to his Blues diva roots with "Lover Man," and most importantly, he ended side two with a ballad he felt would show the world what he could do. Patti LaBelle's "You Are My Friend," became an unexpected hit off the album, and an anthem amongst his gay fans. Infused with passion and sincerity, it definitely was a recorded moment Sylvester wanted to have acknowledged as one of his finest. While that was apparent to many of his fans, the album was not a huge seller and Sylvester didn't make the transition he wanted. Why did the album fail? Perhaps because of poor marketing, and certainly the incredibly weak and ugly cover art didn't help. But in all probability, the Black radio audience that embraced Patti and Aretha weren't ready to hear a man singing to another man and failed to see the universality of his passion. The album didn't make the top 100, but the phenomenal success of the live concerts and previous records kept him coasting. Still, there was some rough water on the horizon.
"I just don't live that kind of life." - Sylvester, after his false arrest
Though the fame and glory of 1979 certainly was sweet, two problems were about to bring sobering doses of reality into Sylvester's fantasy world. The first would be a nuisance, but the second would plague him for the rest of his life.
In October of 1979 Sylvester was informed that someone was using his name at, believe it or not, the Watergate hotel in Washington, DC. One of the headaches of celebrity is that impostors sometimes use your name, usually to get sex, or to leech off of enamored women or men. This especially happens with more "faceless" stars like KISS, Question Mark, and, for some reason, hockey players. Usually the worst that comes of it are slight blows to the reputation, and occasionally semi-prominent musicians will learn of impostors gigging under their name. Unfortunately Syl's double was a bit more troublesome than that.
In March of the new decade the Faux-Sylvester and two unidentified men held up Michael Kasper, a New York coin dealer who ran a shop in the St. Moritz Hotel, for $10,000 in silver coins and $15,000 in cash. They also paid for $30,000 worth of coins from another dealer on 1st Avenue with a bad check. Police then arrested the real Sylvester, charged him with robbery and grand larceny, and held him behind bars for 24 hours. The frightened singer was put in a cell with six transvestites and the man charged with murdering Rep. Allard Lowenstein. He was released on a $3,000 bond. A sign that perhaps they had arrested the wrong man might have been the fact that he wasn't exactly hiding out. He had just finished a sold out show with a 28 piece orchestra at Felt Forum. The highly critical Nelson George, writing for Billboard, called it the show of the year. He made no mention of the next day's "After Set".
Sylvester and his people decided to milk this for all it was worth. They held a festive catered press conference at the St. Moritz hotel where the star related goodnaturedly how he was "flipped out" by the arrest. Though the Black press had not been as supportive of Sylvester's career as some of the other papers (Soul had written a few pieces about him in 1974, but he'd recieved little other coverage), when a Black star gets arrested, you can always count on the Jet to cover all the gory details. "Being arrested has done irreparable damage to my career," they reported Sylvester emoting. He explained he'd never seen the inside of a jail cell before. "I was simply terrified," he continued, "I just don't live that kind of life."
After completing lie-detector tests, handwriting tests and giving leads to real culprits, Syl was officially cleared. The person who originally made the charges admitted in court under oath that Syl wasn't the man who wrote the bad check. Syl joked he would call his new LP "Accused...and Exonerated." However, the coin dealer wasn't laughing in June when Syl sued for 80 million dollars. Though he didn't win the money, Sylvester did get some satisfaction - - his lawyer Ted Rosenblatt, was able to get the court to acknowledge that the impostor weighed more than Sylvester.
The other problem that would surface during this time was far more serious. On a tour South America with the band, Patrick Cowley started to get sick. At first it was dismissed as bad reaction to the local food or psychosomatic illness, but unfortunately it was far more serious. Cowley was showing the first signs of AIDS, a disease that would soon begin to tear apart Sylvester's world.
"Disco is dead." - Every white person in America in 1980...and Harvey Fuqua
Cowley had problems in addition his new mysterious illness. Since Sylvester's scheme of introducing himself as a ballad diva on "Living Proof" didn't work, Fuqua decided he had the plan to get Sylvester over the bridge from Discoland to post-Discoland. . .ban Patrick Cowley from the studio! Also, once again, Sylvester's outrageousness is downplayed in the cover art. The resulting record, the appropriately titled Sell My Soul, is merely a decent dance record. At this point Fuqua had Two Tons of Fun recording their own LPs and they had been replaced on Syl's records with the competent, but not comparable Jeannie Tracy. Tracy's voice actually blends with Sylvester's very well, but the loss of Cowley and Two Tons is too much, and this record is a pretty average eighties soul record. The songwriting isn't up to par, the falsetto is used as an effect rather than a tool and, on the weird cover of "Cry Me A River," he may actually get too over the top, if that's possible.
Fuqua's next move was either desperate, stupid or brilliant in a way beyond my recognition. 1981's "Too Hot To Sleep" features no Disco, no Cowley, no photo of Sylvester on the cover...and almost no falsetto. This attempt to un-gay Sylvester fails in almost every way. While it is not the worst singing you'll ever hear Sylvester do (that distinction goes to Syl's guest vocals on Herbie Hancock's "Magic Number," of the same year, in the same wobbly, unsure baritone) it doesn't make sense. It's just not good enough vocally for the material. It's like there's one note he can make sound good, and the rest sound thinner and weaker than happy hour Mai Tais. Really bad songs on this one, too. Fuqua claimed that this "new direction" was what he had envisioned when he signed Sylvester.
Sylvester was happy to be a balladeer, but realized that while "You Are My Friend" had the dynamism to please his disco fans, he might alienate his fans. He told Billboard he planned to cut a dance record of Freda Payne's "Band Of Gold," but Fantasy didn't support that. Also, he was not pleased with the new straight image. "You can change my image, but I ain't changing shit!" he declared as he went to the office in a negligee and a blond wig, ran up and down the halls, terrorizing them until they gave in. What they agreed upon was to let Sylvester out of his contract, but they kept him out of the studio until his contract expired. He had someplace to go however, a place where his old friends had gathered. While banned from the Fantasy studio, Patrick Cowley had started his own label, and Sylvester was about to join him.
"Everytime I hear that voice ask, all I can do is think, 'Yes Sylvester, I do wanna funk!'" - Underground musician Dom Nation, who recently released the Sylvester tribute single, "Gayngels"
In 1981 Patrick Cowley and hustling underground DJ Marty Blecman pooled their resources and started Megatone Records. The first releases, Cowley's "Menergy" (#1 Disco) and "Megatron Man" were both instant classics. The former is perhaps the gayest gay anthem, a joyful romp about bathhouses and cruising, and the latter was cited as a major influence by The Pet Shop Boys and New Order. Cowley was establishing himself as the American Giorgio Moroder, and he was displaying just the right amount of American crassness and lack of Euro-class in his productions. The new sound became known as hi-NRG and was the standard of Gay Dance music for years to come. Unfortunately he was working on a running meter. His illness had increased in intensity, and though the doctors were not sure what it was, less then a year after founding his label, Cowley was on what he thought was his death bed.
Sylvester was by his side in the hospital and Cowley begged him to pull the plug. Sylvester dared Cowley to get better so they could record again. Like a Disco Lazarus, reanimated by Sylvester's transgendered Messiah, Cowley miraculously got on his feet and into the studio. For $500 they recorded one of the all time dance classics, "Do You Wanna Funk," and released it to thundering acclaim. They had cheated death, proved Fuqua wrong and increased Cowley's profile, which would soon make him one of the first celebrities to die of AIDS.
Sylvester was more at home at Megatone then he had been at any of his other labels. He was given more freedom, and was able to do as much of the production work as he wanted to on his own records. The minuscule budgets made it easy for albums to turn profits, so there was less pressure to pander and sell. The low budgets also created some interesting situations. An album was not ready to go with the "Do You Wanna Funk" single, but fate stepped in. Singer Gwen Jonae had recorded an album for Megatone called All I Need. However, when she demanded Megatone records buy her a $5,000 gown that they definitely couldn't afford, they just had Sylvester re-record all the vocals, and thus his Megatone full length debut.
He soon followed with his promised "Band of Gold," which anchored his second Megatone album, Call Me. The artwork on these records was done by Mark America and was head and shoulders above the higher budget cover art from Fantasy. On Call Me he wears an outfit very reminiscent of Klaus Nomi's. The music on these records, if you like the sometimes harsh sound of the early 80s SF Dance music that Megatone defined, is pretty solid. The passion in Syl's singing is there, and "Hard Up," and "Don't Stop" from the debut are solid, exciting numbers. On Call Me, his cover of "One Night Only," from "Dreamgirls" is much more passionate than the song merits, and "Band of Gold" is a strong dance number.
His third LP for Megatone "M-1015" is a favorite amongst gay fans for the deep, several-years-late Arthur Baker-esque dance grooves of "Rock The Box," the explicitness of "Sex" ("I'll give you my hand/You'll show me what to do/You make it hard...") and his fantastic take on "Lovin' Is Really My Game." It was produced by Megatone's ultra-gay act Modern Rocketry, whose dance hits included "Homosexuality," "Thank God For Men," and their Monkees cover, "Stepping Stone." His Fantasy records family was coming over to Megatone, and Tip Wirrick, Martha Wash and Jeannie Tracy would all join him. The Megatone offices were becoming the place to be, and according to Rex Doane of LCD magazine, who used to make deliveries there, the atmosphere there was like a decadent gay fantasy, proliferated by tight denim cutoffs and lots of menergy.
The pieces were all in place. The label was where it wanted to be, Boy George had broken down gender-fuck barriers, and even Bubblegum Metal acts like Poison (who Sylvester loved - they reminded him of his youth) were priming the public for the return of Sylvester. His Megatone contract only had one more record on it, and Sylvester decided to make this record something special by putting everything into it. Word got out, and without even shopping the album, both A&M and Warner Brothers expressed interest. Warners ended up licensing it and the record was released on Warner Brothers with a Megatone imprint. Sylvester would have the budget and publicity machine to achieve the mass appeal he yearned for, and he hoped that a broad, open-minded audience was finally ready to hear it.
"I thought we were the same person. We perform alike. We look alike. We even sound alike. I really like me- I like the way I sound. But I feel exactly the same way about him." - Patti LaBelle
Good things come in bunches, so while he was preparing to release his first true major label album, another dream opportunity was offered to Sylvester. In 1986 producer Narada Michael Walden invited Sylvester and Jeannie Tracy to sing backup on Aretha Franklin's new album. He sang on all the singles, including the hit "Freeway Of Love." It was a true dream for Sylvester and it primed him to live his own.
Mutual Attraction was afforded the luxury of top design work, good production values, videos, and all the trimmings. On the cover Sylvester is wearing his best Patti LaBelle wig and looking fly. The single, "Someone Like You," was a dance and Black radio hit, and the follow up "Sooner Or Later" did fairly well. Articles appeared in magazines around the world heralding Sylvester as a survivor, an innovator and a Queen returned to her throne. On New Year's Eve he appeared on the Tonight Show and was asked by host Joan Rivers if he was a drag queen. He answered "Joan honey, I am not a drag queen, I am Sylvester!" and showed off a wedding ring from his lover Rick Cramner, an architect whom he'd lived with for two years.
To quote a Sylvester song, though, there was trouble in paradise. Rick was getting sick, and Sylvester was worried. While recording the vocals for his follow-up album Sylvester started coughing and couldn't stop. He checked into the hospital. What he found out may not have been surprising, but it certainly was devastating.
"I don't believe that AIDS is the wrath of God. People have a tendency to blame everything on God." -Sylvester
Sylvester was treated for pneumonia and was diagnosed with AIDS. Rick died from AIDS in September. Losing Rick was devastating to Sylvester. Sylvester was a hopeless romantic, always falling deeply in love with boyfriends. In 1971, as a Cockette he had "married" a boy named Michael Lyon in a public double gown ceremony. When he toured England he told Melody Maker how he longed for his boyfriend John. On the "Living Proof" album he dedicates a song to his lover. In his interview with Barry Walters he sadly stated, "I need a boyfriend so bad." That romance helped him find the passion in his songs, but it also increased his loneliness and desperation towards the end.
In November fevers began and treatment started. On December 4, the last date of the tour at a Philadelphia AIDS benefit, Syl was winded after the show. It would be his last concert, but not his last public appearance. By the time Summer rolled around, Sylvester's movements were limited to rolling around in a wheel chair. From that chair he made his first public declaration of his illness when he led the People With AIDS group in the San Francisco Gay Pride March. He looked old and sick and fans who recognized him cried, gasped in shock and applauded his bravery. His activity over the next few months was limited to sitting at home and watching TV as his body degenerated. A minor stroke left him with some loss of speech. His weight dropped from 200 to 140 pounds. He had some difficulties paying his hospital bills, but sadly Sylvester didn't live long enough for that to become a real problem.
Sylvester's last public efforts were in spreading AIDS awareness. "It bothers me that AIDS is still thought of as a white male disease," he told Jet, "The black community is at the bottom of the line when it comes to getting information, even when we've been so hard hit by the disease. I'd like to think that by going public with this I can give other people courage to face it."
On December 16, 1988, Sylvester James died at age 41 of AIDS related complications. A memorial service was held at Love Center in Oakland. In tribute to Sylvester, Megatone released Immortal. Rather than present the collection in a somber sleeve, Marty Blecman celebrated Sylvester's spirit by using ridiculous drag photos Syl had sent them as a joke when they had asked for some more serene, "butch" ones for publicity. San Francisco writer Armistead Maupin eulogized Sylvester as "one of the few gay celebrities to have never renounced their gayness along the ladder to success." San Francisco truly mourned his loss.
"I am living for her." - RuPaul (Roctober #7 1993)
The number of people in Sylvester's circle that were struck by AIDS is astounding. In addition to Sylvester, Patrick Cowley and Sylvester's lover Rick, Megatone owner Marty Blecman, Cockette's founder Hibiscus, cover artist Keith Haring, manager Tim McKenna and his boyfriend, and Megatone staffer and collaborator David Diebold all were hit by the disease. Current Megatone president Terrence Brown said he had to move the label out of SF because everyone was dying. As I was finishing this article, Terrence's father called me to let me know Terrence was hospitalized and it was very serious. I didn't ask what it was, but I hope my suspicions are wrong.
But the fact of the matter is, artists are immortal, and the legacy Sylvester left lives on stronger than ever. Though the camp of RuPaul in no way relates to the presentation of Sylvester (many of Syl's fans never think of him as a drag queen, simply as "Sylvester," just like he said to Joan Rivers) Ru's mainstream success would be less likely without Sylvester's unashamed presence in American pop music. Artists continually sample and remix Sylvester's classics. A documentary is in the works on Sylvester, and Terrence Brown was working on a Megatone box set before he was hospitalized.
And most of all, the best Sylvester work is as vital today as it ever was. He is one of the lucky artists who has some of his/her greatest work documented in a way that future generations can treasure. There were many Disco stars who had a handful of hits, but few of them seemed as interesting, as three dimensional, as emotionally naked, as complex and as unique as Sylvester. None of them seemed as real.