Presenting Isaac Hayes

"The R&B feeling is still there," he said. "But the sound might be a bit more sophisticated. You see, just like anything else progresses, sound does the same. The sound spectrum gets broader; a person's scope enlarges. For instance, ten years ago, a kid 16 couldn't hear all these things on a record, couldn't appreciate them. I'm just expressing myself in the way that I know how; I'm not trying to purposely be different. So you hear all these strings or things I put on my arrangements — these are things I heard all my life."

For the next five minutes, Ike ticked off the kinds of music which influenced him while he was growing up: hillbilly, Hit Parade, be-bop, jazz, classical ("They used to play 'Toy Soliders' around Christmastime every year"), and rock 'n' roll. Most of all, there was gospel. "Church was right across the road from the house and my mother — she passed away when I was a year and a half — I was told she was one of the best singers around in those parts.

"You can look upon me as a sponge in my formative years," Ike said. "I was absorbing all of this, so when I express myself the way I want to, the way Isaac Hayes wants to express himself, then you hear all these things. People said, 'Wow, this is a brand new thing,' but it wasn't brand new to me because it is what had been in me all the time. But I was restricted with Sam and Dave to write music in their particular bag."

Ike's first totally unrestricted album was Hot Buttered Soul, the million-seller he recorded three years ago at the request of a Stax executive. "I felt like what I wanted to say, I couldn't say it in no two minutes and 30 seconds, because I wanted to speak through the arrangement, I wanted to speak through singing, I wanted to speak through actual monologue. I cut that record with all the freedom in the world and it was a beautiful release for me."

The drawn-out songs on the albums of Ike's Hot Buttered Soul period are almost invariably recorded in one take. "You know, I don't plan it, I just rap, man," said Ike. "'Cause if you go over it too many times it just gets mechanical." I suggested that the musicians might not sit still if they were asked to do a second take of, say, all 19 minutes of "By the Time I Get to Phoenix."

"No," said Ike, "They don't mind. Sometimes the tape runs off the spool and we groove maybe five or ten minutes after that. I mean, we just get keyed up that way, man, and just screw. There's a lot of stuff I've cut, man, there hasn't been lyrics to it or anything, it's just back there on the shelf at Stax. A lot of stuff in Santana's bag. And one day I might just put out an album, a double pocket or whatever of all these tracks that we've cut, and the grooves are so fantastic you wouldn't believe it, man."

For all his conviction in his new music, Ike clearly misses the old R&B "In fact," he said, "Dave Porter and I are gonna do an album, first of the year, like the old Sam and Dave stuff. We'll reach back, get that old sound, and put it out. Secretly, Dave and I always wanted to do that, you know; but after Sam and Dave became successful, why should we have jumped in there when they were selling it?"

Porter will sing the high parts that Sam used to take; Ike will do the low vocals a la Dave, plus the keyboard work. As in the old days, Porter will write the words, Ike the music. The same superb band that played on Shaft will provide the backup. "It's just a changeup, just another part of me I want to try," said Ike. "If it doesn't sound good, I'm not gonna put it out."