Andre Williams

Williams was born in Bessemer, Alabama, but after his mother died when he was 6, his father moved him back and forth from Alabama to Chicago. In Chicago, he learned what he calls "the real technical gospel singing," and applied it in his first gig, with the doo-wop vocal group The Cavaliers. The Williams family then moved to Detroit, Michigan where Andre began his recording career with Fortune Records. Andre recorded over 50 songs for Fortune including: Bacon Fat, JailBait, Pass The Biscuits and The Greasy Chicken.

Andre began recording under various pseudonyms such as The Five Dollars and the Don Juans. He became known as a record producer and songwriter, composing such tunes as: Shake A Tailfeather, Cadillac Jack, Funky Judge and Twine Time. He was hired and fired as staff producer and A&R man numerous times by Barry Gordy at Motown. Mr. Rhythm (as he was nick named by Redd Foxx) produced records for Mary Wells, Stevie Wonder, The Dramatics, The Chi-Lites, Ike & Tina Turner, and even penned material for George Clinton's Funkadelic! While such market saturation could easily confuse young R&B fans, Williams believes it began to pay dividends for him in the early '60s.

"We were playing this place called the Akron Armory, which wasn't a bad place to play," Williams says. "And we had a fantastic white crowd. It blew our minds because that was the biggest crowd I'd ever performed for at that point. And I knew that something was going on, because we'd done two or three local, white dance-party TV things. So I noticed that something was going on."

Andre Williams

Williams' most promising work involved his series of early '60s duets with Gino Parks, on tracks like "Greasy Chicken" and "My Tears." Williams recalls, "This was right before Sam & Dave; we were moving in that direction." But when Parks left the duo, Williams felt scared and insecure. He'd always had a group or another singer with him, and he didn't have the confidence to step out on his own.

"I couldn't handle it by myself 'cause I couldn't walk out there by myself and do what needed to be done," he says. "I was always the glue that could put a whole group together, 'cause I could fill in all their weak spots."

After he and Parks split, Williams quit performing. He struggled to make a living, doing production and writing work -- most prominently the classic dance track "Shake a Tailfeather" -- and leasing masters to record companies. Williams describes his long absence from the stage as "a depressing period" during which he struggled to make a living any way he could. At times, he wasn't sure he'd make it.

"I had to come out of the drug treatment, come out of the gutter," he says. "I had to experience everything going down to the bottom. I knew every level."

Eventually, Williams landed on his feet and started performing again. He found that a new generation of hedonist garage rockers worshiped the raw sexuality of his old recordings. At a time when so many musicians learn all the right notes but never find the right feel, Williams stood out as an authentic wild man. In a sense, he became to R&B what R.L. Burnside is to Delta blues; an unappreciated veteran whose stature had grown as the real deal became harder and harder to find.