Isaac Hayes

His life was far too short, but his impact goes on and on. To truly comprehend what Isaac Hayes brought to soul music — how he changed the face of soul music — you have to begin with the man’s Basics: his Oscar®-winning “Theme From ‘Shaft’” in which sweat-soaked wah-wah and sweeping strings dance over four-and-a-half breathtaking minutes; his reworking of Bacharach & David’s “Walk On By” into an expression of unimaginable, near-debilitating heartache; his mighty mountain of funk, “Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic.” In short, these are the tracks that turned the man into a legend. In Next Steps, we’re traveling down to Soulsville, U.S.A., deep into the heart of the albums that made the myth.

By now, you’ve gotten a taste of Isaac Hayes, and something about his way with larger-than-life soul music tells you to keep on keepin’ on . . . into our Next Steps, where he continued to do his thing with soundtracks — “Title Theme (From Three Though Guys),” “You’re In My Arms Again” — and cracklin’-fireplace slow jams (“Wonderful,” “Just Be My Lady,” “A Few More Kisses To Go”). These are the grooves that warmed our coldest nights in a big blanket of soul satisfaction. But we’re not done with you yet. In Deep Cuts, we’ll wade into the water to show you just how deep Isaac’s rivers truly ran.

Everything about Isaac Hayes exuded deep, which makes our Deep Cuts an extra-essential component of our extra-Essential artist. Here’s where you’ll wrap your heart, mind, and soul around the breadth of his genius, as he tore down and rebuilt the Carpenters’ “(They Long To Be) Close to You),” worked his magic all over Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” live in concert, and reminded us that “Theme from ‘Shaft’” was just the beginning, as he funked things up to a sweaty, sticky mess with “Main Title ‘Truck Turner.’”

The cover of his sophomore album, Hot Buttered Soul, said it all: Isaac Hayes was an entirely new breed of soul man who wasn’t about to rehash the three-minute soul-pop singles that owned the charts during the ’60s. Armed with a buttery baritone that was more vibration than voice, and a clean-shaven head of boundless imagination, Ike reinvented soul music as mini-symphonies stuffed with orchestral strings and arrangements. A bold, forward-thinking artist, a cultural icon, a bad mother, Ike was the embodiment of black pride and power — a superstar and superhero all rolled into one. And now that he’s left us, we’re left to consider all that he left us . . .