Killing Me Softly

As a kid growing up in the `60s and `70s, I listened to all the hits on my transistor radio as I sat in my bedroom, daydreaming about this, that and the other thing.

And of all the voices that came through that radio, the one who sounded the most like she was singing directly to me was the great Roberta Flack.

Who died the other day at age 88.

Just something about her voice, and her pacing and her eloquence and the sultry passion with which she tied it all together–man, it seemed so personal. I’m sure lots of her fans felt the same way.

I could go on and on with my Roberta Flack memories, but I’ll limit them to this.

One night in `73, I was hanging with the guys in my friend Jonny’s basement, playing poker. And Jonny said, “check out my new headphones. The sound is something else.”

So I took a break from the game–got up from the table and sat by myself on the sofa–and plugged the headphones into one of Jonny’s tape recorders. 

By chance it was tuned to The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. And, yes, the sound was amazing. It overwhelmed me and I forgot where I was and started singing along.

And I just kept on singing along for the full five or so minutes of that song. When it ended, I looked up to see my friends staring at me. As our eyes connected, they burst out laughing. And I got all red in the face.

Cause not able to hear myself with the headphones on, I hadn’t realized that I was singing out loud. If you call it singing–more like croaking.

I don’t blame them for laughing. Had the roles been reversed, I’d have been laughing too.

That's how it went with me and Roberta Flack. I got into a groove hearing her sing. And I forgot where I was or what I was doing.

Oh, well, no matter. Glad I gave everyone a good laugh.

Thank you so much, Ms. Roberta Flack. From the kid in his bedroom listening in on the transistor. 

Loved you then. Love you always. Rest in peace.

As a PS…

I read in the New York Times obituary, that Roberta Flack first performed Killing Me Softy “at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles, while opening for Marvin Gaye. Quincy Jones, who was there, counseled her to keep the song to herself until she’d recorded it.”

Oh, to have been at that concert!