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Melody Maker
The quiet rebellion of Kenny Rankin.
By Rob Hochschild
Berklee.edu Editor
December 24, 2002
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| Photo by Kim Grant |
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As popular music increased in squall and volume in the 1960s and 70s, singer and guitarist Kenny Rankin provided an alternative: songs that were sensitive without being sappy, delivered in a sweet tenor that stuck in people's minds. Fast forward into the new millennium, an era emitting its own healthy dose of cacophony, and Rankin remains, like some kind of retro rebel, a man unconcerned with making his music popular, only pretty.
Berklee students and faculty got to hear some of the Rankin beauty in a clinic this semester. He visited the college while making a tour stop in Boston to promote his new CD, "A Song for You," and during the hour played several tunes, new and old.
One of the remarkable things about Rankin is that his reedy and rounded voice sounds completely unchanged from recordings he made four decades ago. But when asked questions about how he has developed and preserved his vocal instrument, Rankin struggled to come up with answers.
"This is what I sound like and I've sounded like this my whole life," Rankin said. "No one ever gave me lessons, so no one ever gave me boundaries. No one said your range is from here to here, so I just vaulted," he added, referring to his ability to soar into falsetto without an audible break.
No matter what your voice sounds like, Rankin told students, be sure to stay with a sound that is your own.
"Let me reinforce the idea that you don't have to sound like anybody else and it's okay to sound like yourself," Rankin said. "Randy Newman is one of the greatest songwriters in the world. Jimmy Webb is also an incredible songwriter. They do not have good voices, but they can sing a song. And the reason they can sing a song, whether it's their own or someone else's, is because they understand and believe what they're talking about."
While Rankin clearly is blessed with the kind of voice that Newman and Webb don't have, he shares their skill for interpreting songs. And there's bravery in his choices. After playing his own "Haven't We Met?" he played a version of the Beatles' often-heard "Blackbird" that didn't stray far from the original, right down to the whistled bird chirps, but it didn't feel like parody or pale imitation.
Next he sang "Spanish Harlem" as a ballad, taking Aretha Franklin's famous rendition and turning it inside out. Franklin's funky r&b became a delicate song of love and longing in Rankin's hands. He also modulated the mood of the jazz standard "Round Midnight," using flamenco-style accompaniment to lay one of the saddest songs there is on what he called a "cushion of optimism." Rankin is merely doing what comes naturally to him, but in doing so, he also is allowing his audience to experience standards in completely new ways.
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Rankin's clinic was his first at Berklee. |
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Photo by Kim Grant |
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How Rankin decides which songs to sing hinges on whether or not he is affected by the lyrics.
"I don't listen to songs. I read them first," he said. "If the hairs on my arms stand up, I think I might be on to something. Do I believe what I'm saying, what I'm singing? Do I relate to it? Do I empathize with the characters in the story? I become the character. I draw from life experience and invest that into each and every song. I believe what I'm singing. Or else you won't as an audience."
The conviction in Rankin's performance supported such claims, but while he is intent on reaching his audience, he does so with seeming effortlessness. He gives each song only what it needs. Rankin sings with the same gentleness no matter where he is between high and low on his range, and there were no extra movements in the picking of his nylon-string guitar.
When asked how he had developed his guitar style, Rankin cited early musical influences like Frankie Lymon, Tito Puente, João Gilberto, and Cal Tjader. As a child, he used piano technique to teach himself how to play guitar.
"On the piano, I played only bass notes with my left hand and chords with my right. So I put that together and I made this my left hand and these my chords," said Rankin, pointing to his right thumb and then his right fingers.
That explanation was as close as Rankin came to technical analysis during his clinic, an afternoon session that was attended by dozens of students and about 20 faculty members, who usually find it difficult clearing space in busy teaching schedules to attend visiting artist workshops. Their presence was testament to Rankin's acclaim and relative popularity with the older crowd, one built on a string of admired recordings.
When Rankin landed his first record contract as a teenager, he wanted to be a pop star, he said, but realized later that the desire for fame and the ability to make good music don't mix. He evolved when he realized his job was to serve the music, not his ego.
"When I got rid of the burden of self years ago, I began to have the time of my life and I never had it so good," Rankin said. "When you take yourself out of the center of the universe, it takes all the pressure off. I've never had a hit record, but I've had a wonderful career. It's because I'm focused on the music, not on how I look, not who's trendy and what's happening."
Most Berklee students might not think they need to be told to focus on music. After all, why else are they here? But in an industry where music of substance often loses out, there's nothing wrong with a reminder from someone who puts substance into every note.
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