Lionel Richie on Life, Music and Austin

(THE “BEST TIME OF HIS LIFE”)

By Ashley M. Halligan | Photography By Alan Silfen

It was an ordinary Thursday afternoon in April. Well, ordinary, aside from the fact that I’d planned on spending the afternoon chatting with Lionel Richie. I spent the morning filled to the brim with butterflies, anticipating the coming conversation that I would be having with one of Motown’s forefathers: the original lead man for the iconic Commodores, the lyricist behind albums I distinctly remember listening to on grandad’s vinyls as a terry cloth-clad, feather-haired child of the ‘80s, and a face and voice recognized the world over—from North America to Syria—and back.

The night before our conversation, I followed Twitter camaraderie between Richie and Madonna, both of whom just happened to be at the number one and two positions on the Billboard 200 for their newly released albums: Madonna’s MDNA in the number one position, and Richie’s Tuskegee at number two, respectively. ‘Trading high-fives’ on the Billboard 200, the two were also in the same position in—1986. Twenty six years later, the two are wildly at it again, in the midst of a musical revival, zigging and zagging across music charts and editorial columns, meanwhile mastering new genres. Once neighbors in Hollywood and twice neighbors on the Billboard charts, the two playfully exchanged congratulations via Twitter on April 5:

Madonna: Congrats on a successful record. To the other Richie in my life.
Richie: What’s going on family? Can you believe we are sitting on the top of the charts together again? There is no one I would rather be on top with. Congratulations!! I am so happyfor you.
Madonna: OK, but as long as I’m on top.

The phone rang. And suddenly I was mid-conversation with the legend himself. To say he was honest, real, jovial, nurturing and kind, all with a sensible humility and bright spirit would still be an understatement. At moments it was like catching up with an old friend, while others felt as though he was delivering fatherly advice.

With the whirlwind of coverage stemming from the March release of Tuskegee —an album in which he’s gone, well, country—a collaboration with some of country music’s hottest artists, both newcomers and country’s nostalgic founders—most of the questions I had for Richie were not, in fact, related to his album. Instead, we had a downright real and simple conversation.

I told Richie about my girlhood, dancing around my bedroom in lacy dresses and oversized hats with grandad’s old record player blasting vinyls by the likes of Donna Summer, Irene Cara, and, of course, the Commodores. Before I could ask him anything, he asked me about my grandfather. Richie said with a pleased laugh, “Your grandpa did right by you.”

The thing is, Richie is not a newcomer to Austin, although he recently played his first South By Southwest show at ACL Live’s Moody Theater alongside none other than the legendary Kenny Rogers this year. Rogers is one of many icons Richie has worked closely with (for longer than most bands have had careers). They’ve shared stages and musical collaborations, and Rogers has recorded songs written by Richie’s lyrical genius. And ever the humble artist, Richie has complimented Rogers countless times, “I hope to be as big as him someday.”

After performing a handful of Commodore classics and a surprise piano solo, Richie introduced the long-time companion and musical counterpart, “I’m about to bring out one of my dearest friends, and we made many records together,” at which point Rogers joined him to perform “Lady,” written by Richie and recorded by Rogers in 1980. Richie told Rogers before performing, “Kenny, having you up on this stage is about the best thing that could happen to either of us.” After their duet, the two shared a sentimental hug, and the crowd went expectedly wild.

Though Richie is no stranger to Austin, his first SXSW experience stunned him. “South By Southwest was the biggest eye-opener for me. During my show, there was a girl up front in an Iron Maiden t-shirt singing along. I started thinking: This is different. Where am I? The crowd was outta control. For us, the greatest experience is seeing the next generation enjoying our music. It’s then I knew we’d graduated into something great,” Richie said with thick and much deserved sentiment.

He went on, “Austin’s a music city, and finally it’s branded. Congratulations, by the way. It has great music… great qualities. And I can’t get enough of it.”

I asked him what else he did during his short SXSW visit, and his answer was no surprise, “What did I do? I ate my ass off! Where? I don’t even remember, but I can tell you what—a whole damn cow. I’ve never had a bigger steak in my life, and a whole potato field—with cheese on top of the potato field. I remember thinking ‘I hope I don’t burp through any of my songs.’ Austin feeds folks to the point of insanity.”

But, most importantly, Richie said, “I had the best time of my life. I’ll be back.”

South By Southwest isn’t the only commonality between Richie and Austin. Austin City Limits Festival veterans who are able to battle through their end-of-summer sun exhaustion, hangovers and late Friday and Saturday nights and actually make the show early enough on Sunday mornings know it’s a tradition to play “Easy,” which is perhaps my favorite Commodores’ classic. Furthermore, the Austin mentality is captured in its lyrics:

I wanna be high, so high/ I wanna be free to know/ The things I do are right/ I wanna be free/ Just me, babe!/ That’s why I’m easy/ I’m easy like Sunday morning/ That’s why I’m easy/ I’m easy like Sunday morning/ Because I’m easy/ Easy like Sunday morning

I think it’s fair to say these simple, yet honest lyrics represent the Austin mantra, so I asked Richie, what’s your easy Sunday mornin’ like?

His answer was just as simple and down-to-earth as I expected, “My perfect, beautiful day? I go to the pool. I cut hedges… trim things. I’ll clip all day long. It’s my form of meditation. I turn my brain off, and in comes a sense of mindlessness. Sometimes I just sit.”

And so I asked Richie what Sunday mornin’ music he’s diggin’ these days. After calling himself a “Coldplay guy,” saying their music has a great message and beautiful melody, he went on to say, “Adele is wearing me out. She’s a writer, and so creative.” I suggested he check out Sarah Jarosz—a current favorite of my own, when he said, “Alright, Ashley. If you see me quoted in another article saying that I love Sarah Jarosz, you know who turned me onto her.” Well, friends, I’ll be anxiously hoping to see those words in a future interview.

He was curious of my easy Sunday mornin’, too. After all, this was a conversation. I told him I like to escape on country roads with my camera and my dog, Timber, and let the day slip by. And it was with his smooth Motown voice he said, “Ah, when you have your camera, I got you.” It was at this point I decided Richie and I would make good friends; then again, the world has already decided Richie’s a delightful friend.

Somehow he has become a hero and musical favorite in none other than the Middle East, though this is no new news. His song, “All Night Long,” became an iconic anthem to Iraqis, and he told me, “As Baghdad was invaded and Baghdad fell, my music was their backdrop.”

In a 2009 interview with Q Magazine, Richie elaborated, “Recently I met the commander of the 190 Brigade. He said his troops put speakers on their Humvees and played “Dancing On The Ceiling.” They arrived to hear “All Night Long.” The fall of Baghdad was played out to my songs, which is a bit frightening.”

I asked him how he felt his music managed to impact a foreign nation, halfway across the world to the degree his songs had. Like everything else, he had a philosophy for this too—an awe-inspiring one at that: “To go to a country like Libya, for instance, I’ve always said, great music becomes an attachment for people. ‘I love you’ is universal.” And it’s the authenticity in his music, written from the heart, that sings love across the globe. Language barrier or not, the soul in Richie’s tunes and soul-reflecting lyrics have brought peace to folks in turmoil, and it’s that reality that’s pretty damn magical.

Richie went on to tell a story of a woman from El Salvador who first learned English from his albums. I’m not sure what could feel more valuable than knowing your music has brought hope to war-torn nations, has helped refugees discover a new and valuable language, and continues to thrive. Richie went on, “Ya know, someone’s gonna have a party and you’ll find me. ‘Easy Like Sunday Morning’ is forever.” It certainly is. It’s hard for anyone to imagine a wedding where they haven’t hit the dance floor to “Brick House,” nor can I personally think of a single time “Easy” has come on that I didn’t instantly revert to my girl-like self and spin in circles singing along. To say, “Easy” is forever, is a truth that will not dissolve.

Here we are today, with another Billboard-topper, reminiscing on the days of old when he and Madonna practically ran the street they lived on in Hollywood, along with the likes of Elvis, Prince and many other
notable folks of the era. Richie reminisced, “It was the wildest street in Hollywood. We were all one big, creative family.”

Naturally, the next question was how this revival, of sorts, felt. “The rocket took off one afternoon,” he said. “I went to bed one night and wondered why the phone was ringing so much. I realized, the rocket took off, and it’s been non-stop. It feels good. I love excitement.” As for Madonna, he added, “We went from being neighbors and friends to the top of the charts. It’s great to have her near me. Last night we were acting silly [via Twitter]. We once lived two doors down from each other, and when we were there, we were killing it.” Here they are again. And they’re still killing it.

So, now we have Tuskegee, Richie’s latest album, climbing charts and changing lives. A collaboration with 13 of country music’s most notable musicians, Richie called the album a “labor of love.” Born and raised in Tuskegee, Alabama, Richie said, “This place called Tuskegee is where it all began — the place where I felt that everything was available and possible. It’s where I learned about life and love and the power of music, and the place I built a musical foundation that knows no genres or boundaries.”

“Nine months later and beyond my wildest dreams creatively, something was finished that even blew me away,” he said. “How we created this album and what it was supposed to be is probably the mystery of the studio. How you start an album off and what it ends up being is a journey. I must tell you, Tuskegee is going to be one of the most special albums I’ve ever done in my life. It’s hard enough to pull off one duet, and we did 13 for this album. This is something that’s going to be so special forever because it’s a moment in time when these artists all got together and celebrated some music.”

The thing about artists (of any nature), it seems, is that their art is with them for life. Richie said, “I’m still stoked by the red lights in a studio. When you get this in your blood, well, it’s there forever.”

So, what’s next for Richie? First up is a European tour scheduled to begin this fall. Thereafter, he insists he’ll be playin’ Austin again. I promised him I’d be in the audience, and told him I’d love nothing more than to high-five the guy whose songs I’ve spun around singin’ most of my life. His response? “Ashley! C’mon. Let me just say it. Come up to me, introduce yourself, and give me a big hug.”

And there we have it, Richie and I are newfound friends, thanks to one extraordinary Thursday. And I couldn’t be more stoked about the opportunity to pick the brain of a man deemed a legend a decade before I was born, and whose songs have inspired me, but more importantly, the world — time and time again. For the rest of my life, every time a Commodores or Richie classic graces the likes of my radio, cruisin’ country roads, camera in hand, the Timber-dog dirtying up my backseat, I’ll remember that Motown voice sayin’, “I got you.” Truth be told, kind sir, I got you too.

ALM