Isaac Hayes has passed

[JSngry]

Seems a reasonable enough request to me. Don't know if I'd pop a blood vessel over it, but nevertheless...

[Christiern]

Let it go, TtK

[Kalo]

He was a bad... "Shut yo' mouth..."

Sad to see the man go.

I especially treasure his songs written with David Porter and his indelible portrayal of Chef on South Park...

[B. Goren.]

[sidewinder]

More sad news - RIP. I recorded a Stax documentary off the TV a few weeks ago where he features strongly. Must watch it this week.

[John L]

RIP

Another typical poor obiturary for an American music giant, as if his major accomplishments were "Laying the groundwork for disco" and "the voice of Chef." Yea, right.

[king ubu]

RIP

Another typical poor obiturary for an American music giant, as if his major accomplishments were "Laying the groundwork for disco" and "the voice of Chef." Yea, right.

Hey, wait a sec, "South Park" will enter history as one of the big cultural achievements of the American empire!!!

Sad news about Hayes' passing, he was one of a kind!

[djcavanagh]

Very sad - a giant of the music.

RIP.

[7/4]

[zen archer]

RIP

Another typical poor obiturary for an American music giant, as if his major accomplishments were "Laying the groundwork for disco" and "the voice of Chef." Yea, right.

Last night on one news station all they could say was "he was known for his bald head " ?

[7/4]

RIP

Another typical poor obiturary for an American music giant, as if his major accomplishments were "Laying the groundwork for disco" and "the voice of Chef." Yea, right.

Last night on one news station all they could say was "he was known for his bald head " ?

The bald head, Chef and Shaft.

For a lot of people, that was him.

[ValerieB]

RIP

Another typical poor obiturary for an American music giant, as if his major accomplishments were "Laying the groundwork for disco" and "the voice of Chef." Yea, right.

the L.A. Times has an enormous obit today.

[zen archer]

RIP

Another typical poor obiturary for an American music giant, as if his major accomplishments were "Laying the groundwork for disco" and "the voice of Chef." Yea, right.

the L.A. Times has an enormous obit today.

I read the LA obit , its OK but i found this mistake :

"After the 1975 album "Chocolate Chip," Hayes didn't release new material until "Love Attack" in 1986."

He released "For the sake of love" in 78 and "Don't Let Go" in 79

[7/4]

Isaac Hayes' History With Scientology

Monday , August 11, 2008

By Roger Friedman, Fox

My friend, Isaac Hayes, died on Sunday, and his passing leaves many unanswered questions.

The great R&B star, actor, DJ, performer and family man, the composer of “Soul Man,” “Hold On I’m Coming” and other hits by Sam Moore and Dave Prater like “When Something Is Wrong with My Baby,” also was a member of the Church of Scientology.

Isaac was found dead by his treadmill, but conveniently missing from the wire stories was a significant fact: in January 2006, Isaac had a significant stroke. At the time, the word went out only that he had been hospitalized for exhaustion.

But the truth was, Isaac, whom I’d seen just a couple of months earlier when he headlined the Blues Ball in Memphis, was in trouble. Having lost the rights to his songs two decades earlier, he was finally making some money voicing the character of Chef on “South Park.” But “South Park” lampooned Scientology, so the leaders wanted Isaac out.

Push came to shove on Nov. 16, 2005, when “South Park” aired its hilarious “Trapped in the Closet” episode spoofing Tom Cruise and John Travolta. “South Park” creator Matt Stone told me later that Isaac had come to him in tears.

“He said he was under great pressure from Scientology, and if we didn’t stop poking at them, he’d have to leave," Stone said.

The conversation ended there. Isaac performed Chef’s signature song at the Blues Ball a week later with great delight. Although he was devoted to Scientology, he also loved being part of “South Park.” He was proud of it. And, importantly, it gave him income he badly needed.

But then came the stroke, which was severe. His staff — consisting of Scientology monitors who rarely left him alone — tried to portray it as a minor health issue. It wasn’t. Sources in Memphis told me at the time that Isaac had significant motor control and speech issues. His talking was impaired.

In March 2006, news came that Hayes was resigning from “South Park." On March 20, 2006, I wrote a column called “Chef’s Quitting Controversy,” explaining that Hayes was in no position to have quit anything due to his stroke. But Scientology issued the statement to the press saying Hayes had resigned, and the press just ate it up. No one spoke to Isaac directly, because he couldn’t literally speak. "Chef” was written out of the show.

Isaac’s income stream was severely impaired as a result. Suddenly there were announcements of his touring, and performing. It didn’t seem possible, but word went out that he’d be at BB King’s in New York in January 2007. I went to see him and reported on it here.

The show was abomination. Isaac was plunked down at a keyboard, where he pretended to front his band. He spoke-sang, and his words were halting. He was not the Isaac Hayes of the past.

What was worse was that he barely knew me. He had appeared in my documentary, "Only the Strong Survive," released in 2003. We knew each other very well. I was actually surprised that his Scientology minder, Christina Kumi Kimball, with whom I had difficult encounters in the past, let me see him backstage at BB King’s. Our meeting was brief, and Isaac said quietly that he did know me. But the light was out in his eyes, and the situation was worrisome.

But the general consensus was that he needed the money. Without “Chef,” Isaac’s finances were severely curtailed. He had mouths to feed to home. Plus, Scientology requires huge amounts of money, as former member, actor Jason Beghe, has explained in this space. For Isaac to continue in the sect, he had to come up with funds. Performing was the only way.

In recent months, I’ve had conflicting reports. One mutual friend says that Isaac had looked and sounded much better lately at business meetings. But actor Samuel L. Jackson, who recently filmed scenes with Isaac and the late Bernie Mac for a new movie called “Soul Men,” told me on Saturday that Isaac really wasn’t up to the physical demands of shooting the movie. (Neither, it seems, was Bernie Mac.)

Sam Moore, who recorded those Isaac Hayes songs in the '60s and loved the writer-performer like a brother, told me Sunday when he heard about the death: “I’m happy.” Happy, I asked? “Yes, happy he’s out of pain.” It was one of the most beautiful ideas I’d ever heard expressed on the subject of death.

But there are a lot of questions still to be raised about Isaac Hayes’ death. Why, for example, was a stroke survivor on a treadmill by himself? What was his condition? What kind of treatment had he had since the stroke? Members of Scientology are required to sign a form promising they will never seek psychiatric or mental assistance. But stroke rehabilitation involves the help of neurologists and often psychiatrists, not to mention psychotropic drugs — exactly the kind Scientology proselytizes against.

What will come next, I’m afraid, is a wild dogfight among family members for Isaac’s estate. His song catalog (with David Porter) is one of the greatest in music history. Isaac lost the rights to his big hit songs in 1977. But thanks to something called the Songwriters Act, his heirs — whoever they are determined to be — automatically get the rights back as the songs come up for copyright renewal. I guarantee this will not be pretty. Isaac Lee Hayes has over 300 original compositions listed with BMI, from the Sam & Dave songbook to Carla Thomas’ “BABY (Baby)” to his monumental instrumental “Theme from SHAFT.”

None of this should ever take away from who Isaac Hayes really was: a great friend, a warm congenial man with a big heart and a big laugh. He had married again right before his stroke, and was very happy. If he hadn’t had the stroke, I am certain he would have recorded a new album. There was talk of it after the stroke, but nothing materialized. When we made and promoted “Only the Strong Survive,” he was a masterful musician with a great mind and a wicked sense of humor. His loss at 65 is simply way too early and very tragic.

Edited August 11, 2008 by 7/4

[Christiern]

Thank you for posting that, 7/4. I had a friend whose life was destroyed by the Scientology sect--it really needs to be thoroughly investigated and , probably, put out of business.

[captainwrong]

I'd literally just finished watching Wattstax when my wife told me Hayes had passed. Really eerie timing. Too sad.

And 7/4 that article was really really depressing.

Edited August 11, 2008 by Captain Wrong

[Noj]

Agh! Terrible news. Time to spin Hot Buttered Soul again......

That was the first thing I did when I heard the news last night. RIP, Isaac Hayes.

[catesta]

Shit, just hearing the news for the first time.

RIP

[7/4]

And 7/4 that article was really really depressing.

Yeah man. It's a sad story.

[papsrus]

Terribly sad story.

[zen archer]

I saw him in Feb. of 07 and we were surprised at the way he was moving . After the show we talked with his background singer and she told us he had a stroke.

BUT , other than the fact that he had to have someone hold his arm as he walked to the piano and displayed

very limited movement . I thought he sounded pretty good , and the band sounded great .

[Adam]

RIP

Another typical poor obiturary for an American music giant, as if his major accomplishments were "Laying the groundwork for disco" and "the voice of Chef." Yea, right.

the L.A. Times has an enormous obit today.

I read the LA obit , its OK but i found this mistake :

"After the 1975 album "Chocolate Chip," Hayes didn't release new material until "Love Attack" in 1986."

He released "For the sake of love" in 78 and "Don't Let Go" in 79

They have a correction for that online now.

http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-...97.story?page=1

LA Times

Isaac Hayes, 65; innovative singer, composer changed pop music with hits like 'Shaft'

By Ann Powers and Valerie J. Nelson, Los Angeles Times Staff Writers

August 11, 2008

Isaac Hayes, the musician, composer and producer whose innovative sound changed the shape of pop music and whose shaved head, bejeweled outfits and regal demeanor embodied African American masculinity in the 1970s, has died. He was 65.

Family members found Hayes unresponsive Sunday afternoon next to a treadmill in a downstairs bedroom in his home just east of Memphis, Tenn., said Steve Shular, a spokesman for the Shelby County Sheriff's Office.

Hayes' wife, Adjowa, told investigators that her husband "had not been in the best of health recently," Shular said. No autopsy is planned.

FOR THE RECORD:

The obituary of Isaac Hayes stated that after the 1975 album "Chocolate Chip," he didn't release new material until "Love Attack" in 1986. Hayes released several albums during that period.

With albums including 1969's "Hot Buttered Soul" and the double-disc, Grammy-winning "Black Moses" in 1971, Hayes laid the groundwork for both disco and hip-hop.

His rich, baritone voice backed by gently unfurling, string-laden arrangements showed how R&B could be both funky and ornate. His famous ruminative interludes on such songs as his cover of Jimmy Webb's "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" set the stage for rap's elevation of the black male speaking voice.

He was most famous for his 1971 soundtrack for the blaxploitation classic "Shaft," which brought him an Academy Award for best song as well as two Grammys, but Hayes had a long and storied career beyond that Hollywood high point. In 2002, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

His music and his image as a black artist had a titanic power, especially during the apex of his fame. With his shaved head, omnipresent sunglasses and equally ever-present gold jewelry, he cut a strong, marketable figure.

In the 1970s, he released a string of albums for Stax Records, a label that offered a grittier counterpoint to the Motown sound. Hayes' recordings expanded the playing field for soul and R&B artists, proving that an album-oriented market existed for his experimental sounds.

"Hayes' story is one of epic proportions," wrote ethnomusicologist Rob Bowman in "Soulsville U.S.A.: The Story of Stax Records" (1997). "In the first few years of the 1970s he single-handedly redefined the sonic possibilities for black music, in the process opening up the album market as a commercially viable medium for black artists such as Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Funkadelic, and Curtis Mayfield."

Before finding his own voice as a solo artist, Hayes was a primary architect of Southern soul as part of the Stax Records writing and production team. Stax was home to Otis Redding, Booker T. and the MGs and other hit-makers.

Hayes' collaborations with David Porter, a fellow session musician and lyricist at Stax, gave the Memphis-based label some of its biggest hits, including "When Something Is Wrong With My Baby" for vocal duo Sam & Dave and "B-A-B-Y" for Carla Thomas. "Soul Man," another of the songwriting duo's compositions for Sam & Dave, was an early statement of black power that later became a huge crossover hit in 1978 for John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd as the Blues Brothers.

The fact that Hayes projected such a powerful sense of African American dignity, yet also co-wrote a career-defining hit for two white comedians, illustrates the paradoxical range of his appeal.

Headlining Wattstax in Los Angeles -- the 1972 festival that some called "the Black Woodstock" -- Hayes took the stage in gilded warrior garb. The crowd greeted him as a king. As a performer, Hayes embraced this role of ambassador of Afrocentric cool.

The shaved-head look that was central to his image developed in 1964 when the style among some African Americans was to straighten their hair. Tired of the effort that took, Hayes told his barber to cut it off.

"People stared and pointed, but I liked the breeze on my head. It felt great," he told the Chicago Tribune in 1995.

After a concert one night, when the crowd was screaming for him, a former boxer named Dino who was part of his security team said: "These people love you, man. They'll follow you anywhere. . . . You're like Moses. Black Moses!"

A writer from Jet magazine picked up on the phrase, and Hayes had mixed feelings at first as Black Moses became his nickname. He came to like the fact that people "didn't say I'm the Black Moses of the black world, they said of the music world."

But the music Hayes offered was as eclectic as any pop artist's. He covered songs by the Carpenters, Burt Bacharach and Hal David, and Jimmy Webb, transforming those "vanilla" hits into slow jams that would appeal to black and white listeners alike. Bacharach and David's "Walk on By" got a 12-minute reading from Hayes on "Hot Buttered Soul." Webb's "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" ran 18 minutes.

"Music is universal [but] sometimes presentation will restrict you or limit your range," Hayes said in "Soulsville U.S.A." "Glen Campbell and Jim Webb were targeting the pop audience. But when I did it, I aimed to the black market, but it was so big, it went all over."

Hayes' popularity as a recording artist waned in the mid-1970s, and he filed for bankruptcy in 1976.

He found a new focus as an actor in the 1980s, landing a recurring role on "The Rockford Files" and appearing in such films as "Escape From New York," playing the lead villain "The Duke" in the 1981 film, and 1995's "Johnny Mnemonic."

A new generation came to know him from "South Park," the animated series that gave him his most famous role as the voice of Chef. Hayes used the role of the suave cafeteria master to poke fun at his macho image and broaden his audience.

When he was offered the part by Matt Stone and Trey Parker, "South Park's" creators, Hayes thought they were playing a joke on him, but they assured him they were not.

Hayes said he responded, "You all some crazy white boys!"

In 2006, Hayes quit "South Park" after an episode mocked Scientology, the religion that Hayes practiced. He felt the episode showed bigotry and intolerance toward his religious beliefs. Stone responded by saying that Hayes had no problem with the episodes that made fun of Christians. Later, the character of Chef was seemingly killed off.

At the same time he was rediscovered through "South Park," younger musicians such as soul singers D'Angelo and Alicia Keys and the hip-hop duo Outkast began making music inspired by Hayes. Already much-sampled by hip-hop artists, Hayes enjoyed a renewed influence as R&B artists came back toward his lush, adventurous style.

Keys called Hayes' effect on her "major."

"One of the reasons 'You Don't Know My Name' is six minutes and six seconds is because of Mr. Isaac Hayes," she once said on VH-1. "He's really changed the face of music in so many ways. . . . The way he just kind of extended songs to the point where they would be strings for three minutes before the song even began."

Hayes was born Aug. 20, 1942, in a tin shack in rural Covington, Tenn., the second child of Isaac and Eula Hayes. When he was about 18 months old, his mother died and his father left the family, so Hayes and his older sister were raised by his sharecropper grandparents.

At 5, he made his public singing debut in church.

Trying to pull themselves out of bitter poverty, his grandparents moved to Memphis when he was 6 but remained poor. To help support his family, Hayes alternated between going to school and working in the cotton fields on nearby plantations.

"I used to dream, just dream about being able to have a warm bed to sleep in and a nice square meal and some decent clothes to wear," Hayes told Ebony magazine in 1970.

For a while, Hayes lived on the streets after his grandfather became ill. Hayes spent one summer sleeping in empty cars in a junkyard, according to the 1972 edition of "Current Biography."

Self-conscious about his shabby clothes, he briefly dropped out of school in ninth grade to earn money to replace them. His teachers tracked him down and persuaded him to return to school.

A self-taught musician, he began to play piano, organ and saxophone. As a ninth-grader, Hayes won a school talent contest with his rendition of a song by Nat "King" Cole, whom he idolized.

By his late teens, Hayes was married and about to become a father, so he left school again to earn a living. But he earned his high school diploma in 1962 after attending classes at night.

After leaving school, he started appearing with local R&B groups on the Memphis club circuit in a series of short-lived groups with such names as Sir Isaac and the Doo-Dads, the Teen Tones, and Sir Calvin and His Swinging Cats.

One evening, a friend asked him if he could play piano in her brother's band at a New Year's Eve party because he was away in the Air Force.

I said, 'Sure,' even though the extent of my musical knowledge was 'Chopsticks' and 'Heart and Soul,' " Hayes said in the 1995 Chicago Tribune article. "I felt like I was heading for the Inquisition."

He was told the band sounded "pretty good," a compliment Hayes later attributed to the noisy, drunken clientele who "were gonna dance to anything." But it led to a regular gig that made Hayes confident enough in his piano playing to move on.

In the early 1960s, Stax Records hired Hayes as a session pianist and organist. He teamed up with Porter and began writing songs.

It took them "about a year to get in a groove," Hayes recalled in 2001 in the South Bend, Ind., Tribune.

Once they did, they penned about 200 songs, some of them R&B classics.

"We'd get together the night before a session to write, and we liked to have the artist present -- especially Sam & Dave -- because we fed off them," Hayes told the Chicago Tribune.

Hayes' early method of calling out chord changes to the musicians who were fanned out around him remained central to the way he worked.

"It was record-making at its most casual and rough-hewn, yet it produced hit after hit," Chicago Tribune rock critic Greg Kot wrote.

At the time, Hayes later recalled that "nobody had any idea that we were producing legendary stuff. We were getting a check and royalties and having fun and trying to impress girls."

In 1967, he issued his debut solo LP, "Presenting Isaac Hayes," a "loose jazz-flavored effort" recorded in the early-morning hours after a raucous Stax party, according to the All Music Internet database.

Two years later, he broke through with his second album, "Hot Buttered Soul," considered adventurous for including only four -- albeit lengthy -- songs.

Unhappy with his royalty arrangement with Stax, Hayes had severed ties with the label by 1975 and started his own imprint, which didn't last.

After the 1975 album "Chocolate Chip," Hayes didn't release new material until "Love Attack" in 1986.

In the intervening years, he pursued acting, eventually appearing in more than 60 movies and television shows. He recently completed work on the film "Soul Men," with Samuel L. Jackson and Bernie Mac. Mac died Saturday at age 50.

Through the Isaac Hayes Foundation, Hayes built a school in Ghana. The country recognized his humanitarian efforts by crowning him a king.

Hayes was married several times and had several children.

[Adam]

http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-...0,1699493.story

Isaac Hayes: A selective discography

August 11, 2008

Isaac Hayes: A selective discography

* "Stax 50th Anniversary Celebration" (Stax, 2007)

The Isaac Hayes story and the Stax story are inseparable. The label launched Hayes and, as a writer and session man, he created some of its most memorable music. This compilation includes key Hayes tracks alongside others that bear his mark, including "Soul Man" by Sam & Dave and "B-A-B-Y" by Carla Thomas.

* "Hot Buttered Soul" (Stax, 1969)

This album defined a new era in progressive black music and made Hayes a star in his own right. Backed by the impeccably muscular band the Bar-Kays, Hayes takes four songs -- three covers and one funk escapade with an impossible title, "Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic" -- and creates a fantasia of sexy murmurs, fat beats and swirling strings. The spoken-word introduction to "By the Time I Get to Phoenix" is a love manual all by itself.

* "Shaft" (Stax, 1971)

Still revered as one of the greatest soundtracks ever recorded, this mostly instrumental outing captures the energy and flash of Gordon Parks' blaxploitation classic. The movie's theme gave Hayes his most identifiable vocal moment ("he's a bad . . . shut your mouth!") and "Soulsville" is inner-city blues at its best. Richard Roundtree must hate this album -- because of its popularity, many people think Hayes, not the "Shaft" star, played the private eye.

* "Black Moses" (Stax, 1971)

If Hayes' previous solo efforts offered immersive sounds, this double disc is like being plunged directly into the Red Sea. Off-the-wall covers, including his take on the Jackson 5's "Never Can Say Goodbye," bedroom monologues to make the ladies swoon, and plenty of mellow, hot funk combine for a deep trip inside Hayes' mind and soul.

* "Joy" (Stax, 1973)

The last of the fantasias that made Hayes a huge star -- his career began slipping after this -- "Joy" is best remembered for its epic title track, maybe the most sensual outing he ever recorded. The song has lived as a sampled part of later hits by TLC, Massive Attack and Eric B. & Rakim, and remained a show-stopper during his live sets.

* "Chocolate Chip" (Stax, 1975)

Hayes helped invent disco, and here he makes his claim to the genre. Not surprisingly, he proves completely capable of bringing dance floor bliss. "Come Live With Me," a ballad more appropriate for what happens after leaving the club, was Hayes' final charting single of the 1970s.

* "Branded" (Point Blank, 1995)

A comeback album recorded in Memphis with old friends (like his Stax songwriting partner David Porter) and new (Public Enemy rapper Chuck D.), this is a lively, solid outing. And Hayes' version of Sting's song "Fragile" is, surprisingly, not bad.

* "Chef Aid: The South Park Album" (Sony, 1998)

Hayes proved himself a good sport when he took on the role of the lusty but wise culinary whiz in Trey Parker and Matt Stone's totally irreverent animated television show. Alongside cuts by the likes of Rancid and Primus, this album offers three Chef classics, including his signature tune, "Chocolate Salty Balls."

[Unbeknownst Recordings]

Came at an odd time for me. Saturday night was the farewell party for some friends and we made some dance / lounge mixes. Mine just happened to be blaxploitation themed -

Isaac Hayes - Run Lola Run

Bar Kayes - Son of Shaft

Curtis Mayfield - Move on Up

Edwin Starr - Cloud Nine

Marvin Gaye - Got to Give It Up -

moving on into more obvious dance music like the commodores etc.

Come Sunday we found that Hayes was dead. Damn. 65 is young, too.

I was going to put 'Shaft' on there but thought it would be too obvious, so went for a lesser known tune from the soundtrack. Still pumping though. I didn't realise he had so many other albums til I read this thread. Cheesy media obituaries have made him out to be a bit of one hit wonder.

Edited August 11, 2008 by Unbeknownst Recordings

[7/4]

dig this photo from the NYT article about his funeral:

The Stax Museum of American Soul Music in Memphis paid tribute to Isaac Hayes. A funeral was held on Monday in nearby Cordova.

August 19, 2008

Hollywood Joins Memphis for a Farewell to Isaac Hayes

By SHAILA DEWAN

CORDOVA, Tenn. — It was easy to tell the Hollywood Scientologists from the Memphis music people as they passed the gantlet of television cameras and entered the suburban Memphis megachurch to pay tribute to Isaac Hayes. They were on the whole paler and skinnier and showed rather more cleavage than is considered properly funereal here in the South.

The Memphians, on the other hand, tended toward vintage dresses and dark three-piece suits with expertly origamied handkerchiefs and matching ties.

Then there was the soul royalty, like Bootsy Collins, who wore a get-up involving wide pinstripes, a kerchief, and rhinestone-coated sunglass lenses with peepholes in the shape of stars, and the actual royalty, like Princess Naa Asie Ocansey of Ghana, who wore gold and red African finery and managed to get surprisingly low to the ground when she danced.

But there were also thousands of regular people, wearing regular clothes, who poured into the sanctuary of the Hope Presbyterian Church.

For a superstar known for his slick image and “bedroom baritone,” as one speaker called it, Mr. Hayes was deeply involved in the workaday life of his hometown, where he recently appeared on a billboard with a local congressman, Steve Cohen, who was fighting off a challenger. The billboard read, “Can you dig it?”

Mr. Hayes was also involved in literacy programs in Memphis schools, and in 1997, he and Lisa Marie Presley started the Church of Scientology Mission of Memphis.

“Isaac was not only a famous musician, but he was an accessible famous musician in his hometown,” said David Porter, with whom Mr. Hayes wrote “Soul Man” and other hits for Stax, the recording studio that defined what came to be known as the Memphis sound.

The first glimpse of Mr. Hayes, in a video clip from “Wattstax,” the 1972 concert in response to the Los Angeles riots, showed him in a multicolored cape that reached the floor. But people here knew him in a less glamorous light.

One attendee, Cora Williams, 88, said she had known Mr. Hayes as a child in Covington, Tenn., when their families attended church and singalongs together.

Another guest, Elvis Calvin, said: “I pulled Isaac out of a hole. He got stuck in the mud in his Lincoln, and we pulled him out. He came to the house. I got photos from that day.”

This feat apparently earned Mr. Calvin, a funeral director in Coldwater, Miss., a seat in the V.I.P. section.

Mr. Hayes returned to his hometown seven years ago, after a stint in New York, mostly to be closer to his 11 children and 16 grandchildren. He died at 65, after a stroke on Aug. 10 in his home.

There was oration by the Revs. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, and musical interludes by Chick Corea, Kirk Whalum and Doug E. Fresh, the original human beatbox.

The jumbled hoopla seemed fitting for Mr. Hayes, a man who shaved his head at a time when Afros were chic, and cut an 18-minute track when songs were radio-ready at three minutes and change.

The stories fit into two general categories. Anne Archer and Kelly Preston, both actresses and Scientologists, detailed Mr. Hayes’s humanitarian work here and in Africa, while Al Bell, a co-owner of Stax, told how he came up with the name of Mr. Hayes’s first big album, “Hot Buttered Soul,” from a magazine advertisement for hot buttered rum.

Afterward, when asked what he made of the two factions coming together on one stage, Mr. Porter laughed. “Each of those components,” he said, “loved Isaac Hayes.”

On stage, the Rev. Alfreddie Johnson, a Scientologist, explained how Mr. Hayes might have become interested in the religion in the early 1990s, when he was filming a movie scene in the hotel in the Scientology Celebrity Center International in Los Angeles.

Mr. Johnson was coming out of the bathroom. “He came up to me,” Mr. Johnson recalled, “and he said, ‘Brother to brother, what are these white folks doing up in here?’ ”

Mr. Johnson told him that he was teaching Scientology learning techniques to gang members in Compton, Calif., in an effort to get them off the streets.

Word that a Scientology minister would be presiding over the tribute on Monday produced angry chatter on the Internet aimed at the religion, which some people consider to be a manipulative cult, and at the Christian church that agreed to play host to the program. Though that report proved to be incorrect, the audience seemed apprehensive when Scientologists, who spoke openly about their faith, were on stage.

Local anecdotes drew a warmer response.

Craig Brewer, the Memphis filmmaker best known for “Hustle and Flow,” said he had insisted that the role of the bartender in that movie be cast with a local actor. It went to Mr. Hayes.

In an interview before the program, Mr. Brewer said that even among the outsize characters of the Memphis music world, Mr. Hayes stood out as an original. “You take Elvis Presley, B. B. King, Johnny Cash. After a while, Memphis was like a conveyor belt for these personalities. Boy, did Isaac come along and blindside everyone.”

Mr. Brewer noted Mr. Hayes’s knack for turning the tables.

“In a place that has a history of white artists taking black musical styles and making money off them, here is Hayes taking Glen Campbell songs and Burt Bachrach songs and making them so much his own that you question their origin,” he said.