When I was a kid, the only version I knew of “Southern Nights” was Glen Campbell’s. And I liked it, sort of, because you could tell there was something to the song itself. Something almost magical. It didn’t matter that Campbell’s production – bouncy and pop-oriented – lacked anything resembling southern ethereal grace. I still somehow knew that song was special, and so I filed it away in my kid memory as a thing to be revisited at another time.
Cut to me as an adult, hearing “Southern Nights” performed by Mr. Allen Toussaint, the song’s writer. In only a few seconds, I understood the power and the beauty of that music. Mr. Toussaint imbued his words and melody with every positive memory I own of the South. His gentle touch on the piano unleashed lightning bugs in the dark, heavy night. His lilting voice triggered a warm breeze through the trees. Though I’d heard the song years earlier, it wasn’t until I heard Mr. Toussaint’s version that I understood the depth and majesty of his work. And I loved it.
On Tuesday morning, Mr. Toussaint passed away after having performed a show in Madrid. He was 77. He left behind a tremendous body of work, 2 children, multiple grandchildren and more positive musical vibes than most of us will ever know.
For me – I am grateful to have the recordings of Mr. Toussaint’s memories. And oh! How I love to listen to that man memorialize…