TOP 40 DEBUT: December 8, 1979
PEAK POSITION: #18 (February 2, 1980)
The siren song of disco ensnared more than its fair share of sailors in the waning years of the 1970s: Rod Stewart, KISS, even Ethel Merman. You’d be forgiven for thinking Isaac Hayes fell victim to that same trend-chasing, especially after a cursory listen to “Don’t Let Go,” the chewy morsel of glitter-ball silliness that returned the soul legend to the Top 40 for the first time since 1973. In reality, Hayes had been flirting with disco since 1975’s Chocolate Chip, going all-in by the time the following year’s Juicy Fruit (Disco Freak) rolled around. Some of his attempts to adapt to the new style were downright embarrassing; some, like the #19 R&B hit “Zeke The Freak,” were legitimately great. But none connected with a mass audience until “Don’t Let Go,” a song as winkingly, knowingly goofy as any South Park parody.
First things first: Isaac Hayes was an icon, a force of nature, with a persona as outsized as his many formidable accomplishments. The man wrote “Soul Man.” He gave us “Shaft.” He turned classic pop hits from Dionne Warwick and Glen Campbell into sweaty, psychedelic, eighteen-minute workouts. But for large chunks of his career, Hayes was floundering. Less than three years after hitting #1 with the Stax-released Shaft, he was suing his label for $5.3 million. Deeply in debt, Stax had no funds to pay back the biggest artist in their company’s history. They went bankrupt in December 1975. Two years later, Hayes had to file for bankruptcy himself. By 1977, he’d lost his home, most of his personal property, and the rights to all future royalties from every piece of music he’d written, produced, or performed up to that point.
So if “Don’t Let Go” reeks slightly of “desperate-for-a-hit” pandering, understand that no one in 1979 needed a hit more than Isaac Lee Hayes, Jr. And he found one in the most unlikeliest of places. “Don’t Let Go” originated from the pen of Jesse Stone, a songwriter now best remembered for “Shake, Rattle and Roll,” the landmark rock ’n roll tune he composed under the pseudonym Charles Calhoun. And way back in 1957, Roy Hamilton—the historic vocalist whose distinctive style inspired Sam Cooke to leave gospel for secular music—turned “Don’t Let Go” into a standard.
Hamilton’s recording, which hit #2 R&B and #13 pop in March 1958, is a prime slice of vintage soul, a Fats Domino shuffle sped up to rockabilly tempo and performed with effortless charm. (It’s an 8.) Literally dozens of cover versions followed, from Jerry Lee Lewis to the Four Seasons to the damn Manhattan Transfer, all hewing tightly to the same template. “Don’t Let Go” was, is, and always will be a Fifties-styled rave-up. It had absolutely no business becoming a disco track. But Hayes turned it into one anyway. That’s pretty hilarious, and makes me think his version was always intended as a very long, very elaborate joke.
There’s probably an alternate timeline where Isaac Hayes segues into crushed-velvet proto-disco long before Barry White steals his lane, enjoying waves of success throughout the ‘70s rather than disappearing from the public consciousness. And in that particular timeline, “Don’t Let Go” is most definitely a smoldering, string-laden banger. But the “Don’t Let Go” we got in this 1979 keeps its tongue very, very firmly in cheek. Two decades before South Park revived his career, Hayes was already playing with his persona, if not actively becoming a cartoon character himself. The bit where he growls, “Aw shucks/ Well, I wouldn’t stop for a million bucks”? I can’t decide if that’s utterly ridiculous, or a genius bit of winking parody. (Maybe a little bit of both?)
As always, Hayes surrounded himself with professionals. The studio ringers locking down that groove—drummer Willie Hall, bassist Derek Galbrieth, and guitarist Kim Palumu—had all been on board since the Juicy Fruit days. (Hall actually dated back to 1971 and Shaft itself.) They’re kept on a pretty tight leash early on; the longer the track unwinds, the looser they get, with Galbrieth in particular adding some tasty slap-n-pop licks on both the album mix and the longer 12” cut.
Truthfully, only in those extended versions does “Don’t Let Go” finally, belatedly come to life. (Avoid the 7” mix at all costs.) The backup singers stop sounding like a bad Shaft parody and eventually spring into action: “Hold me tight if it takes all night/ But don’t let go/ I wouldn’t stop for a million bucks/ ‘Cause I love you so!” The string section enters a few refrains later with some dancing counterpoint—but only on the truly extended 12” mix. Hayes himself works up a nice head of steam, too—but mostly on the 12” mix. And there’s a fantastic ascending chromatic sequence with stabbing strings that happens around 3:30 and kicks the entire track into a higher level—but you can’t find it on the radio single. (Seriously. Avoid the 7” mix at all costs.) Hayes was always the kind of artist who needed a broad canvas to create his best work, but “Don’t Let Go” is in a frustrating class all by itself: exhilarating at a full thirteen minutes, mind-numbingly repetitive when chopped down to a mere 3:59.
So I honestly have no idea how to properly rate this song. My initial focus on the radio edit resulted in an entry that absolutely trashed “Don’t Let Go,” and only after digging into the long versions did I arrive at a reluctant reassessment. Regardless of length, much of the song remains supremely silly, and a large part of me still can’t fully embrace this version of Isaac Hayes, much like I can’t enjoy most of what Robert DeNiro does after the year 2000. Watching a legendary figure actively, and gleefully, send up his own legacy? It’s more than a little disheartening.
But I’m also aware that “Don’t Let Go” is a classic in many circles. I’m aware that countless soul aficionados absolutely love this phase of Hayes’ career. And perhaps there was always a touch of ridiculousness in every recording graced by those chest-rumbling, canyon-sized vocal chords. “Don’t Let Go” simply brought that ridiculousness to the forefront, and listeners responded accordingly. Good for them, and good for Hayes. In a genre littered with fun, silly trifles, he made a fun, silly trifle for the ages. For the handful of us still longing for another Hot Buttered Soul, the distance from Isaac Hayes the R&B Icon to Isaac Hayes the Disco Goofball might’ve been a bridge too far.
GRADE: 5/10
I WANT MY MTV: So... that backlit shot of Hayes’ big, beautiful, bald dome is legitimately iconic. The rest? Don't say I didn't warn you.
12”ERS: Here’s the epic “Full Length Version” mentioned above. For space reasons, the album used an inferior 7:16 edit, so for decades, only vinyl junkies got to appreciate this track in its best possible light. Now the entire 12” is easily found on all streaming services. The real magic kicks in at minute nine. Enjoy.
BONUS BITS: Here’s the video for “Chocolate Salty Balls (P.S. I Love You)” from South Park: Chef Aid, where Hayes unabashedly commits to self-parody… and scores a U.K. #1 in the process. (Yes kids, this is Isaac Hayes’ biggest hit on the British charts. Not “Shaft.” But “Chocolate Salty Balls.”)