FOR years, Gregory Porter struggled to come to terms with his absent father. Raised with seven siblings by his valiant mother in Bakersfield, California, he could count the times he saw his dad on the fingers of his hands.
Gregory was just 20 when Rufus Porter died and he still admits to “crying over father/son stuff”. Now 48, the much-loved singer breathing life and soul into jazz can cast his problematic parent in a slightly more favourable light.
There’s a track on his new album, the stirring All Rise, called Dad Gone Thing, inspired by qualities he hadn’t always appreciated. “It’s both sweet and heartbreaking to learn that the daddy I didn’t know was a great singer, a veteran, a great cook . . .
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