Credit Where It’s Due

Someone, please explain to me why Carol Kaye isn’t thrilled about being inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Why— after important contributions first as a session guitarist and then as a pioneering electric bassist—isn’t Kaye, at ninety years of age, pleased as punch that she’s finally getting the recognition that eluded her for so long? Although the cognoscenti (read: pop music obsessives) have sung her praises as a creative and resourceful musician since the Eighties, the average listener has little idea of how important Kaye was as a recording studio mainstay during the birth and maturation of Pop music that extended from the late 1950s and through the 1970s. A spot in a national museum devoted to American culture would surely correct this.

Yet Kaye seems to want nothing to do with personal recognition, issuing a statement that alludes to notions of teamwork and collective vision. I just don’t get it. She doesn’t have to give props to the award or attend the ceremony, but as for taking her rightful place in the museum itself, I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t proudly grab her spot as a respected musician and as an innovative woman who found her unimpeachable position in an industry dominated by men.

Personally, I’m delighted that future generations will see her name enshrined in a place of honor. Kaye deserves that, as well as any additional credit we can bestow on this formidable behind-the-scenes player.

If anyone cares to explain Kaye’s opposition, please do, I’m all ears. In the meantime, I will bask in the glory of Phil Spector’s greatest production. It goes without saying that Kaye was an integral part of this momentous recording session. You can hear her (most likely doubled up with the upright bass of Ray Pohlman) in privileged moments introducing the second verse and then establishing the bridge and the dramatic finale.