I saw Etta James perform in concert four or five times—once in a lineup with Stevie Ray Vaughan, Joe Cocker and B.B. King at the Pacific Amphitheatre in Costa Mesa. I was reminded of her rock-to-soul range when I read Los Angeles Times pop music writer Randall Roberts' appreciation piece. But I'd forgotten about this song until my friend Dean shared it on Facebook. His simple comment was wistful and true:
"Etta James provided one of the musical voices of my childhood.... I can listen to this and close my eyes, and it's Friday night and I'm slow dancing in the gym after a football game. She was remarkable and we were blessed she sang to us."