Do you have any special memories of working with Luther Vandross?
way—yet very understood and very acceptable. When they hear your voice, they say, “Oh, that’s that singer, the same singer that sang that song,” and that’s where the relationship begins.
Oh yeah! He was about the funniest guy I ever knew. The main thing about him was that he was able to bring certain things out of you that you didn’t know that you had as far as vocal qualities were concerned. My favorite memories of him were working on the Bette Midler and Change tours—seeing how he took control and how he could conduct and put together voices that matched really well. Dance music is often seen as producer driven, and Patrick Adams and Leroy Burgess have attained a mythical status. I often think that the role of the singer has been overlooked. What sort of creative input did you have on these sessions? Yes. We were responsible for the deliverance and the actual arranging of the melody. That’s what I was called for. Putting the spirit behind it. That’s a singer’s job, to put it together like that. I’ve always thought that the actual singers not being on the album covers of Musique or Inner Life was kind of troubling. It predated what happened with Martha Wash and the C+C Music Factory controversy in which her voice was used but she wasn’t in the video. Yes, it’s always been troubling—but that’s the way they had it for us on that level. One part of it is painful, but the other part is okay, because it allows you to become anonymous in a kind of a
Tell me about recording 1981’s “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” for Inner Life.
That was with Patrick [Adams]. It was great! Him and Greg Carmichael. It was a great song for me, because I had an opportunity to do a song that I always respected. And to see how long that song has lasted and how it took off and became an actual anthem song for a lot of the clubs was wonderful.
Speaking of clubs, you were a favorite at the Paradise Garage. Talk about Larry Levan.
Oh Larry. [ laughs ] Whenever it was the anniversary of the club or any special situation, Larry always made sure that I was there to perform the extended version of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” which was almost twenty-two minutes long. The Garage in itself was a performance—four o’clock in the morning and the place was jam-packed with people still trying to get in from the outside. It was always an exciting situation. Beautiful.
Your first major solo hit was “Somebody Else’s Guy” from 1984. What was the inspiration behind that song?
My sister and I wrote that together. It was about finding out that the guys we were going out with—one was married and the other engaged. We were putting that experience in song
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