If it wasn't for Rufus, there'd be no soul.
--Rufus Thomas

I had the pleasure of meeting Rufus Thomas in July 1999 when he agreed to participate in the shooting of a documentary I produced with Pennebaker Hegedus Films called "Only the Strong Survive." By the time the film was shown at the Sundance Film Festival in January 2002, Rufus was gone and the film was dedicated to him. He never got a chance to see it, but the enormous spirit and devilish sense of humor he exuded on screen seemed to carry "OTSS" from success to success, bringing it the Cannes Film Festival, a solid theatrical release, and a guaranteed long life on DVD.

In the film, we were able to capture Rufus at his weekly gig on WDIA radio in Memphis. He'd been doing shows there for about 40 years, since he helped invent the hybrid form of music that became rock and roll. On the air he was vaudevillian, a jokester, and a gentle kidder who was always heading toward a well worn punch line. His comic bits were older than he was, but it never seemed to matter. Rufus' gift, in music and comedy, was taking what existed and making it seem brand new.

Nothing sums Rufus up better than his immortal exclamation heard on this album at the start of "If There Was No Music": "If there was no Rufus, there'd be no soul." He's only half kidding, you know. Pompous? Never. Self important? Maybe a little. And deservedly so. It's a scandal that Rufus is still not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a performer and a deejay: his influence was that great. He played Elvis Presley's records on WDIA before anyone, which was a big deal. Without him, Stax and Sun Records, not to mention a huge helping of Memphis soul now considered "for the ages" would never have made the trip from obscurity.

Even though he wore hot pants, and often comically sang off key, make no mistake: Rufus was himself a serious musician. He just made it look so easy. This is manifested not only in the tracks on this CD and all of his discography, but in the three children who carry his legacy: pitch perfect Carla, the solo singing star of the early 60s who dueted with him and Otis Redding; Marvell, the legendary keyboardist, bandleader and philosopher who helped make all those "classic" Stax hits so memorable; and Vaneese, the most sought after session singer in New York to this day.

These tracks certainly reflect all of Rufus's musicianship and good humor, which is amazing considering he was past 70 years old when he recorded them. You may think you never wanted to hear "God Bless America" again by anyone, but there is magic in this version by Rufus and Carla in their final studio recording. You can hear the love. Check out their earlier exuberant work like "The Birds and the Bees" and "Night Time is the Right Time." It can never be duplicated.

He also exceeds Merle Haggard in sheer expressiveness on Haggard's "Today I Started Loving You," one of his longtime favorites. And he pulls off not a few surprises on a couple of mischief minded songs he wrote such as "Juanita Juanita." But I will always think of him good-naturedly swinging out with the words "I'll be a good boy." It's a hollow promise, thank god. You can't have the kind of twinkle Rufus Thomas had in his eyes be "good." We wouldn't have wanted it any other way.