Sweet to the Core

The more I read about and listen to Betty Davis, the more I love the woman. Once married to Miles Davis, rumored to have slept with Jimi Hendrix, and collaborator with Sly Stone, Carlos Santana and Herbie Hancock. But let's not define the woman by the men in her life -- I'd rather think of them as a constellation of stars in her sexy-ass galaxy. Her style and her sound is all her own. Or at least it was until Macy Gray copped it.

But as a model-slash-musician with a deep kinky streak, Davis embodies the intersection of sweet and tough, smooth and rough that's Capital-F Funk's appeal. She doesn't have the vocal chops of James Brown protege Lyn Collins of "Think (About It)" fame, but she doesn't settle for euphemisms and brings the kind of sense for tension and release a dominatrix might bring to the job of tickling the listener before whipping them -- with her turquoise chain.

Don't Call Her No Tramp by Betty Davis (From They Say I'm Different)

I'm not the only fan here at YM -- 99 (Emeritus) shouted Davis out in his year-end music roundup. For the hardcore collector further research turns up a third album, Nasty Gal, and a fourth from 1979 but not released until 1995, Hangin' Out in Hollywood, along with a host of UK and US re-releases and assorted 45s.