Still Bill Still Dad

It was a poignant accident that we, a group of fifteen people, whose lives constantly find reason even beyond our control to flow into each other, came to be watching, “Still Bill” the new documentary film about American singer-songwriter and musician, Bill Withers on Father’s Day. I’m Australian and we specially honor our fathers on a different day of the year. Thus, when I originally sent out an invite to all the friends for a private screening outside in our garden, I could not know how particularly touching it would be for many of us, missing our fathers to intimately observe Bill Withers, the father.

Under a Jacaranda tree in the back yard of our little bungalow in Venice Beach, we lay about on rugs, on a sea of cushions, friends, lovers, husbands, wives, band members, children, parents and puppies and watched this very unassuming documentary about a very humble man unfold. This man from the small, coal mining town of Slab Fork, West Virginia, the youngest of six children who grew up sickly with asthma and shrinking with stuttering, turned out to be the man who wrote, among many other things, “Ain’t No Sunshine”.

Bill Withers won multiple Grammy Awards and earned many gold records and, during what could be still considered his “prime”, walked away from it all. He married a business MBA, had two children, continued a life of family and normalcy, never once taking up any of the many offers for lucrative, nostalgia tours around the country, like so many of his contemporaries and never releasing another record.

While he continued to write music (of course you do when you have the music in you, whether anyone is paying you or not), Bill Withers just didn’t care to re-enter the music business and write music to be packaged and marketed. He had earned enough money previously, to comfortably raise a family without worry. And that’s exactly what he did. At 70 years old, he is an old man, comfortable in his own skin, alright with it all, in possession of great, gentle wisdom and a fine sense of humor. He has cultivated what appears to be a solid marriage and has raised great children. The love and respect between them all is palpable. It is particularly moving to see Bill with his daughter – who has decided to follow in his musical footsteps - and hear them make music together.

Some people say I have a nice voice. It’s a voice that I only ever started using in public at 31 years of age and it’s a voice I know I got from my father. I’d never wanted to be a singer. It was my musician husband who coaxed me out, note by note into the spotlight, slowly but surely over several years. Bill and his daughter, Kori’s magical music-making together made me want to take my new voice - which I only discovered in America – back home to my father in Australia and beg him to sing with me. He’s about Bill’s age and, like me, has never wanted to be a singer. But we do it. It just turned out that way.

I am very lucky to be married to a maker of music and to be surrounded by friends who also have the music in them. I am very lucky that my husband pushed me not to be afraid to use my instrument in public. I am very lucky because music making is alchemy and by actively engaging in it, you get to delve deeper into the magic.

Music saved that stuttering young man in a coal mining town like it has saved kindred souls everywhere.

Please buy a copy of “Still Bill” and help these fine film makers get this marvelous story out there. Host a screening like we did. Those Trader Joe’s pizzas and beers were good! Or at the very least, tell friends about it. “Still Bill” is an inspiration and an education.