Etta James, the rhythm and blues singer, died within the week prior to this posting. The appreciations have appeared in print media, and my contribution is probably off the wall, though not as much as the next one I may post.

This posting does not directly involve a long defunct free paper called BAM---"Bay Area Music"---which used to be found in record stores, speaking of defunct, but I have to be a curmudgeon about mystique promotion.

BAM used to wax about the various "scenes" such as hair metal, punk, Sunset Strip art-rock snobs. Maybe we could call them "tribes". The venality, conformity, and even mental and, yes, physical bullying come to mind. I was not an avid attendee at rock and related shows but have pictures from various other encounters and the experience of others.

Etta James appeared at one yearly event at which I've been steady, the Playboy Jazz Festival, at least three times that I recall. She had a very accomplished band with a full sounding in tune horn section and that's how she went out in my musical world.

About 1981 some friends and I went to see the reggae band Culture at one of the Hollywood clubs, maybe the Starwood or Whisky. Etta James opened the bill with what some of us call a "garage" band: sloppy, amplifier hummy, gruel-colored organ playing and a sax player with a thin buzzy sound. And at this point I had seen a lot of jazz notables on the latter instrument. There were a few times Ms James seemed to be looking right at me when she told the crowd she wanted more enthusiasm. Sorry, my friends ribbed me about this a bit.

The transplanted Englishman in our party, as would befit a "BAM" piece, drew several likewise to our table, as certain demographics will find each other. One sallow little guy who appeared to have wandered away from being fourth cousin at an Elvis Costello familial get together asked me after James' set what I thought. Well, it wasn't complimentary. He barked off a crude variation on Hemingway's "Obscenity thyself," then turned to a buddy and said, "He doesn't like Etta James!"

Back to me: "What do you think of Otis Redding?" "Revere him." Then came more "fook arfs". Your scribe just doesn't recognize all the legends!

I have made this basic post before. Los Angeles and England are joined at the (un)hip in the pop world for loud and automatic acclaim sans cultural savvy. In other words, hype. Where I brought BAM in: all fun when the flying fists and spittle aren't mentioned and everyone is in tune.

Etta James did some fine things; apparently 1981 was one of "those" not so happy times. Not much of a eulogy but the memories---a product of art high and not so.