The Voice Behind Mick...
By BROOKS BARNES
SAN FRANCISCO — Imagine if there was no “sock it to me” at the end of “Respect.” Think about “Like a Prayer” without the choir or “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’ ” without its big “ma ma se, ma ma sa, ma ma coo sa” finish.
Ms. Fischer with Mick Jagger.
If a background singer had not contributed her ferocious “rape, murder —
it’s just a shot away” to “Gimme Shelter,” would it have even become a
hit?
“When you start listening for us, honey, we’re everywhere,” said Lisa
Fischer, a vocalist who, at 54, is the music industry’s reigning backup
queen. “Ev-ery-where!” she warbled jubilantly before detonating a smile
and breaking into the giggles.
Ms. Fischer, who lives in New York when she is not on the road, was
grabbing a bite at the Four Seasons here after a performance with the
Rolling Stones. She has been singing with the band since 1989, and her “Gimme Shelter”
duets with Mick Jagger are now a highlight for many fans. Her other
gigs have been just as impressive. In concerts or recording studios, she
has backed up Tina Turner, Luther Vandross, Chaka Khan, Sting, Dolly
Parton, Beyoncé, Alicia Keys and Aretha Franklin, just to name a few.
But Ms. Fischer, alluringly plump with short black hair and a nose
piercing, does not fit the background-singer stereotype. If you’re
singing backup, you’re supposed to hunger nonstop for one thing: the
move center stage. Performing lead is the prized position. A backup
singer? Just another belter in a black dress.
Ms. Fischer had a hit of her own. She won a Grammy
in 1992 for her first single, “How Can I Ease the Pain,” beating out
none other than Ms. Franklin. But she never completed a second record,
in large part because she decided that the heat of the spotlight wasn’t
for her. Backup singing was her calling.
“I reject the notion that the job you excel at is somehow not enough to
aspire to, that there has to be something more,” Ms. Fischer explained,
speaking with her eyes closed, as she tends to do. “I love supporting
other artists.”
She continued: “I guess it came down to not letting other people decide
what was right for me. Everyone’s needs are unique. My happy is
different from your happy.”
The upshot: Ms. Fischer has paradoxically emerged as a star partly because of her decision not to seek stardom.
Movie audiences will get the chance to meet the earthy, emotive Ms. Fischer on Friday, when “20 Feet From Stardom“ arrives in theaters. The documentary, directed by Morgan Neville
(“Johnny Cash’s America”), delves deep into this often-ignored corner
of the music business — the history, the histrionics, the heartache.
Especially the heartache. Mr. Neville lingers on people like Darlene Love,
who was a brick in Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound — that’s her, for
example, singing backup on “Da Doo Ron Ron” — but got chewed up by an
abusive music industry; she ended up cleaning houses before restarting
her career in the 1980s. The film also highlights Merry Clayton,
who provided that searing “Gimme Shelter” performance in 1969, but
never managed to achieve the solo superstardom she wanted so badly.
On the younger end of the spectrum, “20 Feet From Stardom” showcases Judith Hill,
a statuesque 29-year-old singer who is scraping and clawing for that
solo break. (She was voted off the NBC singing competition “The Voice”
on May 28, prompting a judge, Adam Levine, to controversially mutter, “I
hate this country.”)
But in many ways Ms. Fischer has become the unexpected star of Mr.
Neville’s film, at least as it has traveled the festival circuit,
including a stop at Sundance, where it was nominated for a grand jury
prize. If some other background singers don’t exactly see themselves in
her story — seriously, no solo aspirations? — a lot of everyday people
in the audience do. Every office has a self-promoting showboat or two,
but the load is carried by the unheralded cubicle dwellers who quietly
do their work and do it well.
“About a month ago,” Mr. Neville said, “a guy stood up after a screening
and said: ‘I’m a middle manager at a company, and I’m O.K. with that.
We make a good product, and I’m proud of what I do. I just realized that
I’m a backup singer.’ That was him connecting with Lisa.”
Mr. Neville added, “To me, Lisa is the soul of the movie.”
That kind of talk makes Ms. Fischer squirm. She instead shifted the
conversation toward some of the grande dames of background singing, in
particular Ms. Clayton, 64. “I owe so much to women like her,” she said.
The admiration is mutual. “I’d never met Lisa before, but people thought
it was going to be tense because she’s now singing ‘Gimme Shelter’ on
the road,” Ms. Clayton said by telephone. “She came up to me, and kissed
me dead on the mouth. And we hugged for about five minutes.” (It’s
true: Ms. Fischer is a long hugger.)
“When you’re carrying the bulk of all those people on your back, that
gets a little heavy,” Ms. Clayton continued, speaking of Ms. Fischer’s
decision to stay in the background. “Lisa, she just sings and picks up a
check, honey. She keeps it movin.’ ”
There are other vocalists, of course, who have become well known to fans
and music business insiders just by singing background. The Waters, a
California group of siblings, have toured with Paul Simon and harmonized
on hundreds of albums, notably Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” (That’s
their “ma ma se, ma ma sa” on “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin.’ ”) For many
ears, Stevie Nicks wouldn’t be Stevie Nicks without the loyal backup
support from her sister-in-law, Lori Nicks, and Sharon Celani.
Despite their second-class status — at least as determined by the
business and societal expectations — a good backup singer has skills
that a solo artist typically does not. They have to put their egos
aside, instantly meshing their identities with the other background
performers on the line. Remaining pliable is crucial. They also must be
able to immediately understand what the band wants, often without
explicit instructions.
“You have to learn the person’s kiss,” said Ms. Fischer, who is prone to metaphors. “You can feel when it’s ending.”
Ms. Fischer has been singing ever since she can remember. Some of her
fondest memories of growing up in the Fort Greene neighborhood of
Brooklyn involve the whole family — Mom, a homemaker; Dad, a security
guard and warehouse worker; and two younger brothers — singing together
around a piano at Christmas, the colored lights on their aluminum tree
flashing.
She did some club gigs under the stage name Xena (she didn’t pick it) in
the early 1980s and recorded a demo, but got her break from Vandross,
who hired her as a backup singer in 1983 and with whom she continued to
work until his death in 2005. Chaka Khan was a particular hero, Ms.
Fischer said, and when she got the chance to sing with her, it ... well,
she could not quite finish the sentence, breaking into tears of
gratitude. (She composed herself by focusing on the menu: “La, la, la,
la,” she trilled, “what kind of fruit should I have?”)
Her relationship with the Rolling Stones started with an audition for
Mick Jagger, which she landed through friend-of-a-friend industry
connections. “I know I came in looking crazy that day, but I was young
and cute, so whatever,” she said.
Mr. Jagger put her demo tape into a boom box and asked her to start
singing. He then surprised her by starting to dance around her.
“I thought, ‘He’s really weird, man!’ ” she said. “He was trying to feel
my energy but nobody gave me the memo. I just kept singing and didn’t
let it throw me, and that’s what got me the gig.”
Her album, “So Intense,” came along in 1991, with “How Can I Ease the Pain“
hitting No. 1 on the R&B charts. Reviewing the recording for The
Washington Post, Gil Griffin called Ms. Fischer a “tremendous talent,” a
singer with “great range, often hitting high notes few of her
counterparts can.”
To her shock, the song won her a Grammy, which she accepted wearing a
dress with a dramatic feathered collar. For Ms. Fischer, it was actually
a type of a double victory: Patti LaBelle was also given a Grammy in
the same category that year — a tie. True to form, Ms. Fischer had sung
backup on the song that won Ms. LaBelle the prize, “Burnin.’ ” (Ms.
LaBelle subsequently deemed Ms. Fischer “fierce” in an interview with
USA Today.)
But when it came time to work on the follow-up, Ms. Fischer tried but
ultimately decided it wasn’t for her. “I was putting myself out there
for the business to put under a microscope and poke at with a pair of
prongs,” she said. “I didn’t like it. Sooner or later, something was
going to break, and I didn’t want to break.”
She took a drink of ice water and adjusted the brown bandanna tied over
her hair. “Some people will do anything to be famous,” she said. “I just
wanted to sing.
