The Phantom Voice: Merry Clayton
It’s just after midnight when Merry Clayton’s phone rings. Merry’s body is heavy with sleep as her husband, Curtis Amy, picks up the phone.
“There’s a group of guys in the studio. They’re from England, the Rolling… The Rolling somebodies and they need a girl to sing with them.” Curtis urges his wife to rouse, but she only glares back at him. Her bed is warm and it is way past office hours. Curtis looks into her eyes. “You have to do it,” he says. With a groan and an eye roll, Merry throws her quilt to the floor, stomping to the front door — a car is already waiting outside.
Merry, four months pregnant, waddles out of her home, still dressed in her silk pajamas with curlers in her hair. She’s driven to the studio and guided inside, pushing open the heavy metal doors to a room filled with scrawny Englishmen, amps, and cigarette smoke. “We need you to sing these lyrics with Mick. Can you do that?”
Merry blinks, staring at the lyrics she’s been told to sing. “Rape, murder, it’s just a shot away.” She’s taken aback, her eyes darting between lyric sheet and these obviously crazy men. Who would dare to sing a song about rape and murder? The Rolling Stones, of course.
“I’m going to need an explanation first,” she demanded, justifiably disgusted by the idea of a song glorifying rape and murder.
It’s Mick Jagger and Keith Richards who frantically jump to assuage her fears — “No, no, no, the song is condemning violence, not condoning it. See? Can you sing it?”
Merry’s eyes scan the page, digesting the rest of the lyrics. She stands up tall and nods her head — of course she could do it. She tosses her mink coat to the side and struts up to the microphone, standing opposite Mick Jagger. They sing, their voices intertwining in the air, filling the room with palpable energy. They blend brilliantly, smooth harmonies flowing like sweet honey before the song comes to a close.
“Would you mind doing another take? Just as a safety precaution.” Merry cradles her pregnant belly and obliges. “But,” she says, “this time everyone has to leave the room.” If they wanted a second take, she was going to give them a second take. As everyone files out of the room and the recording light blinks on, Merry takes a deep breath before fully letting go. Her voice takes on a new form, roaring with power, growing louder and louder until she’s practically screaming “Rape, murder! It’s just a shot away!” Her voice crackles and pops like logs on a fire, snapping under the weight of her sheer power. A distant “Woo!” can be heard on the recording as Mick is overcome with excitement. The Stones hoot and holler as Merry tears the roof off of the studio. She’s a powerhouse, tapping into the collective unconscious and singing with the voices of all those suffering across the nation.
Merry finishes the take and slips back into her coat. She waves goodnight and heads home, longing for her bed. Her job is complete and her life has been forever changed — in more ways than one.
The day after the late-night recording session, Merry suffered a miscarriage. Losing her unborn baby girl destroyed Merry and poisoned the memories of her time with The Rolling Stones. In her eyes, there was one obvious cause for the loss of her baby: the stress of the recording session. She’d been awoken in the middle of the night and ushered into a room of strange men, where she strained herself to reach those impossible notes. Her voice would be catapulted into fame, but at what cost? It would be years before Merry could bring herself to listen to “Gimme Shelter.”
“It left a dark taste in my mouth. It was a rough, rough time.”
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Merry’s striking performance with The Rolling Stones reignited her career. Merry had been singing from as early as the age of six. Even then, her stunning vocals overshadowed the rest of the gospel choir at the New Zion Baptist Church in New Orleans.
It was Bobby Darin who had helped Merry break into the world of professional music. Darin had been floored by fourteen-year-old Merry’s powerful voice and immediately wanted her signed to a record contract. Still just a teenager, this would require the approval of her mother, Eva. Eva approved, but only if Bobby would correct Merry’s homework before they did any singing. Darin became Merry’s tutor in more ways than one. Their most notable work together was a duet entitled “Who Can I Count On?” Merry shines on this track, it is almost unbelievable that her voice is that of a fourteen-year-old girl. Soon after, Merry would back Ray Charles as one of his Raelettes. She’d been brought in by a close family friend who was playing keyboards with Charles at the time, Billy Preston.
In the 70s, Merry released a solo album, which featured her own version of “Gimme Shelter.” Merry was reclaiming the song that had been so closely tied with her personal tragedy, and she did it in style. She continued to provide backing vocals on world-famous tracks, including Ringo Starr’s “Oh My My,” Carole King’s “Smackwater Jack,” and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama.” Sweet Home Alabama, however, had been recorded through gritted teeth, almost as an act of protest. Alabama had been home to a plethora of racially motivated hate crimes and was about the furthest place from ‘home’ she could imagine.
In 1972, Merry took to the stage as the Acid Queen in The Who’s Tommy, alongside names like Rod Stewart, Ringo Starr, and Richie Havens.
In 2014, 66-year-old Merry suffered a near-fatal car accident that resulted in the loss of both of her legs. When she awoke in the hospital to find her legs missing, her first concern was for her voice. “Can I still sing?” she’d asked the doctors. Thankfully, Merry’s voice remained unharmed. The loss of her legs revitalized Merry’s love for singing and life itself. It pushed her to go back to her roots and sing from her heart, in a voice that remains untouched by the years. She released the song “Beautiful Scars” about the accident.
Now 73 years old, Merry’s voice remains as robust and soulful as ever, a distinct landmark in the music landscape. She was the phantom voice haunting the soundtrack of our lives, recording with artists like Linda Ronstadt, Tom Jones, Burt Bacharach, Joe Cocker, and Phil Ochs — to name a few. You may not have known her name, but you most definitely know her voice.
“I would go in, kick a little ass and give it my all. I never went in willy-nilly or spaced out. No! A session was a session. At the end of that session, a paper was signed, and it was called a check. I didn’t know what everything I took on musically would do. I didn’t know what ‘Gimme Shelter’ or (Carole King’s) ‘Tapestry’ would do. I did not have a clue. But I knew I would give it my all and that I would never skimp on anything I sang. People ask me: Do you know how many records you have sang on? I don’t.”
Watch Merry’s Live Rendition of “Gimme Shelter”
References:
https://www.theguardian.com/music/2014/jun/23/merry-clayton-gimme-shelter-seriously-hurt-car-crash
