Certain songs feel like theyā€™ve always existed, to the point where itā€™s strange to imagine them as beingĀ new, as being songs that people would hear on the radio for the first time. ā€œHit The Road Jackā€ is one of those. As we experience it today, itā€™s less aĀ song, more of an all-purpose signifier of the idea that someone should get out. Itā€™s what plays over the PA at the hockey arena when someone get sent to the penalty box. But of course, before all that, it was a pop single.

Itā€™s a slight song, less than two minutes. The setup is simple: The woman knows sheā€™s stuck with someone who isnā€™t worth shit, and sheā€™s kicking him out. The guy begs and pleads for another chance, but he knows itā€™s hopeless. Theyā€™re following a script, and they know it. Maybe theyā€™ve had this argument before. Maybe this really is the end. But the contours of it will always be familiar.

Charles isnā€™t the guy winning the argument, and heā€™s not the star of the song, either. That would be Margie Hendrix, leader of the Raelettes, Charlesā€™ trio of backup singers. She shows so much fire and personality on ā€œHit The Road Jackā€ that it seems criminal that she was consigned to a backup singer role. But ā€œHit The Road Jackā€ would be the peak of her career. She was in a relationship with Charles, and they were doing a lot of the same drugs, and maybe having fights not too different from the one outlined in the song. (The song isnā€™t about their fling, though. Charlesā€™ friend Percy Mayfield, a onetime singer whose performing career ended after a disfiguring car accident, was the one who wrote the song.) A couple of years after ā€œHit The Road Jack,ā€ Charles fired Hendrix. He survived his addictions, but she didnā€™t; she died in 1973.

Charles was a genius at straddling genre lines, and ā€œHit The Road Jackā€ is a fine example. Itā€™s an R&B song, but it pulls some of its swagger from big-band jazz, and some of its intensity from rock ā€˜nā€™ roll. It sounds tough, and simple, but the sounds are there to get the story across. Itā€™s not the work of transcendent genius that Charlesā€™ ā€œGeorgia On My Mindā€ was, but it remains plenty durable anyway.

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