Why sometimes you should talk to strangers (and how I discovered Phyllis Hyman)

In years gone by I have had something of a reputation amongst friends for having a low-pass filter when it came to talking to complete strangers and giving them the time of day.  

There was the bar crawl whilst on holiday in Lisbon that started off as four of us and gradually expanded to a lively motley crew containing Germans, Finns, Norwegians, a Tunisian and um, a group of guys and girls from Stoke, as we incorporated new people into our group with every establishment we visited.  There was the 50-something woman I got chatting to in a casino in Cardiff after a Tom Jones concert and who then somehow found my phone number the day next and called, eager to introduce me to her friends and her daughter.  At Glastonbury 2010 (one of the warmest festivals on record), we made friends with the people camping next to us in the Dairy Ground campsite and many years later I would end up becoming one of their neighbours in Brixton and we would subsequently form a folk duo.  In 2012, we would go on to perform three songs at a humanist baby blessing ceremony at the West London home of Countryfile presenter Julia Bradbury but that’s another story.  

Then there was the time that I was supervising a group of teenage Kazakh, Polish, Spanish and Turkish students on a day trip to London, whilst working for the summer at a language school in Southampton.  The students were visiting the UK for a few months in order to improve their English skills and we had taken the train to London, visiting sites such as the V&A Museum and London Eye.  We had taken a breather and stopped for a spot of lunch by the wooden replica of Sir Francis Drake’s galleon, The Golden Hind on South Bank, just along from the Tate Modern.  

The kids all seemed happy enough and were tucking into their Pret sandwiches so I popped on the earphones of my iPod and had a few minutes to myself, ahead of a hectic afternoon of herding 25 students around Central London.  A homeless person emerged from around the corner clutching a can of Diamond White cider and asked what I was listening to.  I told him (it was August 2007 so it would most likely have been The Rakes’ second album or The Clash-sampling ‘Paper Planes’ by M.I.A.) and he then asked if it would also be possible for him to listen too?  I didn’t see the harm in it at the time so handed him one of the white iPod earphones which he placed into the recesses of his ear and we sat side-by-side for a minute or so, digesting the sounds of Mick Jones’ guitar before we exchanged a handshake and he went on his way.  The man didn’t seem in the greatest health so I thought it was the least I could do if it brightened up his day a bit.

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Fast forward to July 2018 and it’s the day before my friends Emily and Matt’s wedding.  I had been out for the evening in Oval, Stockwell and then for a nightcap at the Three Eight Four cocktail bar on Coldharbour Lane, Brixton (a bar so achingly hip it has metal shopping baskets filled with light bulbs fastened to the walls for low-lit ambience).  I had decided to call it a night around 2am and said goodbye to a friend at Brixton tube station.

As I walked back up along the main road to my flat on Brixton Hill, an ever-so-slightly merry man stopped me;

“Yes mate!  Wicked t-shirt!”

I was wearing my prized ‘Make America Dance Again’ t-shirt in honour of the late, great soul singer Sharon Jones (now sadly fading and yellowing around the edges – a little like its owner). 

“I have a question for you”, continued my new acquaintance.

“Oh yeah?”; I replied cautiously.  Even though I have never felt unsafe at night in Brixton, it’s sensible to keep your wits about you at 2 o’clock in the morning. 

“Who do you think is the greatest female soul singer of all-time?” 

“Hmm…”  I thought about it for a moment and replied; “Aretha Franklin”. 

“Ahh, Areeethaa!  I hadn’t thought of her!”.  The topic had clearly been weighing on his mind for some time. 

Whilst the man seemed to agree with me; he also urged me to listen to another female soul singer he loved:

“Phyllis Hyman!  She had an amazing voice!” 

He even spelled out her name for me and enthusiastically encouraged me to check out some of her music.  I had never heard her name before but was now suitably intrigued. 

The conversation ended with a warm handshake and the Phyllis Hyman acolyte shouting “You’re a starboy!” (a term of endearment in Jamaican patois) as we headed off in opposite directions along Brixton Road.

I made it home and although I had a Saturday of wedding festivities ahead of me the following day, I quickly searched for ‘Phyllis Hyman’ and listened to a few of her songs.  Much to my pleasure, the man had been right and Phyllis Hyman did have an amazing voice.  I recognised her 1979 disco track ‘You Know How To Love Me’ but she also had a number of deeper, soulful ballads including ‘Old Friend’ and ‘Living All Alone’. 

Phyllis Hyman 

Over the next few weeks I began reading about Phyllis and finding out more about her background and her music.  She had been raised in Philadelphia and was part of the early Philly Soul scene before moving to New York in the mid-70s where she initially sang with jazz saxophonist Pharoah Sanders and The Fatback Band (known for their brilliant 1983 hit ‘I Found Lovin’), before releasing her debut album Phyllis Hyman in 1977 on Buddah Records – a label whose heritage she shared with the likes of Chic, Gladys Knight & The Pips, Curtis Mayfield and Bill Withers.

Hyman was well-known for her vivacious and at times, confrontational personality – she had been known to single out audience members if they were talking or on the phone during her performances.  As well as her recording career, she also performed in various Broadway musicals (including over 700 performances in the Duke Ellington tribute Sophisticated Ladies) and starred in several films.  She even recorded the signature track for the 1983 James Bond film Never Say Never Again, although the song was eventually shelved due to an authorship dispute.

After Buddah was acquired by Arista Records in the late 1970s, Hyman endured a tempestuous working relationship with Arista founder and notorious music industry mogul Clive Davis.  Phyllis felt that Davis did not understand her as an artist and was trying to strip her of her identity and market her incorrectly.  It was during this period that Hyman’s issues with substance abuse and food addiction became more serious and she was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder.  

In the mid-80s, Phyllis found a new lease of life after finally breaking free from her contract with Arista and began releasing music on Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff’s hallowed Philadelphia International label.  She also enjoyed a fruitful musical partnership with Gamble & Huff songwriters and producers Thom Bell and Linda Creed; most notably on Creed’s song ‘Old Friend’.  This was the final song that Creed would write before her death from breast cancer in 1986 at the age of 37.  Hyman, someone who felt the highs and lows of life very deeply, loved the song but found it extremely difficult to sing live and would frequently break down in tears onstage whilst performing it. 

Phyllis Hyman talking about ‘Old Friend’ in 1987

In 1991, Phyllis Hyman released her eighth studio album; In The Prime of My Life on Philadelphia International.  The album was her most successful yet and included the hit single ‘Don’t Wanna Change The World’ which reached the Billboard Top 100 and the top spot in the R&B chart.  The album spawned three further singles but it was sadly the last to be released during Phyllis’ lifetime.

Phyllis’ dependency on alcohol, cocaine and food continued into the mid-‘90s and she was hit hard by the deaths of both her grandmother and mother in 1993.  The people closest to her have spoken about how her moods became even more erratic and on 30^th June 1995, after one previous failed suicide bid, she overdosed on a mixture of pentobarbital, secobarbital and vodka and was found unconscious in her West 56^th Street apartment.  She died later that same day at St. Luke’s Roosevelt Hospital in New York – a week before her 46^th birthday.  Her manager Glenda Gracia spoke of having a “sinking feeling” during this time and her sister Ann claimed in the TV One ‘Unsung’ documentary that she was “shocked, but not surprised”.  

Phyllis had been due to perform at the Apollo Theater in Harlem that very evening as part of the 30^th anniversary celebrations of the US R&B vocal group The Whispers.  The members of The Whispers were distraught and felt the show should be cancelled out of respect.  However, it was Phyllis’ backing band who insisted that the show should continue as it would have been what she would have wanted.  The show went ahead as planned and became an emotional celebration of both The Whispers and Hyman’s music. 

So, here’s to the kindness of strangers and the music of Phyllis Hyman.  Phyllis may have lived a somewhat tragic life but she had an immense talent that spanned the worlds of music, theatre, film and fashion.  Just think; if I had ignored that bloke on Brixton Road in the early hours of 28^th July 2018 and walked straight past him up the hill, I would have never discovered her music.

Phyllis Hyman; some starting points

‘You Know How To Love Me’ (1979)

A disco-era classic and Hyman’s most-instantly recognisable song.  Although Phyllis was “never a huge seller”, this has now had nearly 4 million streams on Spotify alone and has been covered in later years by Robin S and Lisa Stansfield.  The original featured backing vocals from one Gwen Guthrie who would go on to have a Top 5 hit single in the UK with ‘Ain’t Nothin’ Goin’ On but the Rent’ in 1986.

‘Don’t Wanna Change The World’ (1991)

A comeback single of sorts, ‘Don’t Wanna Change The World’ was Phyllis’ biggest-selling single.  A prime slice of smooth, early 1990s R&B, this spent a week at Number One in the US R&B chart in 1991.

‘Old Friend’ (1986)

Written by the late Linda Creed and produced by Thom Bell, this was one of Phyllis’ favourite songs, despite finding it a very emotional number to sing.  The recording was one of her first for her new record label, Gamble & Huff’s Philadelphia International.

‘Living All Alone’ (1986)

Taken from the album of the same name, ‘Living All Alone’ is a deeply-affecting ballad and became one of Hyman’s best-known songs.  Although not written by Hyman herself, the lyrics rang true for some elements of her own life.  

‘Suddenly’ (with The Whispers – 1984)

Taken from The Whispers’ 1984 album So Good.  This is the only recording of Hyman and The Whispers together – the group she was set to perform at the Apollo Theater with on the evening of her death.