Dusty In Memphis contains, vocally, none of Dusty in Memphis

I have to admit this one actually surprised me.

Every photo I've ever seen of Dusty Springfield sold me the same story before I even put on the record. The beehive, heavy eyeliner, that cool, composed stare. I always read her as calm. In control, someone who knew exactly who she was.

Turns out that image was armor, and she built it herself.

In 1968 she went to Memphis to record with Jerry Wexler, the same man behind Aretha Franklin, at the same studio where Otis Redding had already stood.

Wexler kept reminding her of that, this is where Otis stood, this is where Aretha sang, hoping it would inspire her. Instead it did the opposite.

She later said fear ruins good singing, and that all Wexler did was talk about Aretha the whole time. She covered the fear by turning it into something sharper. She threw an ashtray at Wexler in the control room.

She called Tom Dowd, by every account the calmest man in the building, a prima donna. Wexler flatly called the whole session hell.

She never finished a single usable vocal in Memphis. Every final take on this record was recorded afterward, in New York, at Atlantic's own studio. An album titled Dusty In Memphis contains, vocally, none of Dusty in Memphis.

So the picture I had of her was backwards. Not quiet confidence. A woman so terrified of being measured against the greatest soul singers alive that she couldn't sing a note in the room where they'd stood, who hid behind hours of hair and makeup before she'd even face a microphone, who fought with the people trying to help her, and then somehow, somewhere else entirely, delivered one of the most soulful vocal performances ever put on tape.

It flopped when it came out. Now it's called her masterpiece.