Remembering Robert Palmer
On what would have been the singer's 77th birthday, some thoughts on an artist who went with his gut on material ranging from techno to reggae to blues, often with spectacular results.
Robert Palmer, who died in Paris at the absurd age of 54 in 2003, pursued a career both enabled and constrained by a record industry that didn’t quite know what to make of him. Famously suave, a natty dresser given to Armani suits even while singing raw reggae, he is most remembered for “Addicted to Love,” a swaggering metal-crunch Number 1 hit in 1985 accompanied by a video of Palmer fronting a miming band of miniskirted models that somehow threaded the needle of Spinal Tap’s sexy/sexist typology and became a benchmark of ‘80s pop culture. But “Addicted to Love,” while not exactly an anomaly given Palmer’s protean musical tastes, barely hints at the willful diversity with which he populated his career.
His 1974 debut, Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley, featured collaborators and sidemen including Little Feat’s Lowell George and funk drummer-legend Bernard Purdie, along with contributions from New Orleans house band the Meters and coverage of Allen Toussaint’s soul chiller “From a Whisper to a Scream.” The album didn’t sell but created a fan base that Palmer nurtured through constant touring and a continuum of self-assured albums that essayed reggae and Philly soul stylings like “Every Kinda of People,” a 1978 Top 20 single that prefigured his potential to make broadly popular music even as he indulged his idiosyncrasies.