To ensure that everything she cut met her high professional standards, Dusty insisted on producing most of her own recording sessions. In my opinion, those self-produced sessions from 1963-1968 are her best. Their impeccable quality won her the opportunity to work with veteran A&R man Jerry Wexler: That resulted in the rock standard "Son-Of-A-Preacher Man" and the accompanying album whose acclaim has only grown with time. Despite a sharp decline in chart records after 1969, Dusty's early body of work commands such respect that in recent years, younger artists such as Daryl Hall, Richard Carpenter and The Pet Shop Boys lined up for the chance to record with her. These collaborations propelled her back onto the charts in the '80s and '90s with contemporary singles like "Something In Your Eyes," "As Long As We Got Each Other," "What Have I Done To Deserve This?" and "wherever Would I Be?"

Dusty Springfield was known as the Queen of Blue-Eyed Soul; media reports accurately credit her with introducing soul music to British audiences in the '60s. However, more knowledgeable historians will remember Dusty for her amazing eclecticism, which encompassed everything from Motown covers ("Can I Get A Witness?") and Latin-American floor-shakers ("La Bamba") to jazz ("Earthbound Gypsy"), show-tunes ("Where Am I Going?") and light classical numbers ("Morning"). She should also be remembered as one of the definitive interpreters of Burt Bacharach's song catalog (one listen to either version of "The Look of Love" she recorded is enough to confirm that fact). Social activists may recall her pioneering anti-apartheid stance in South Africa, taken a full two decades before the United Nations cultural boycott was instituted, or her early advocacy for lesbian and gay rights.

There'll undoubtedly be lots of anthologizing and repackaging and dredging-up of previously unissued Dusty Springfield material. Not all of this will be respectful of her legacy, but that won't matter in the long run. Now that she's gone, her legend will grow larger and the artifacts she left behind - recordings, filmed performances and print interviews - will surely increase in value. As for sentiment, Dusty made it known that she didn't want an overabundance of grief expressed at her passing.

Instead of a memorial service, she instructed her manager, Vicki Wickham, to throw a party so that friends could celebrate her life rather than mourn her death. Every chance I get, I'm going to pull out Dusty in Memphis or Reputation or any of her other excellent albums, and I'm going to celebrate Dusty Springfield, just as I've done for the last 18 years. As long as I can lift a tone arm, press a play button, or phone in a request to the local oldies station, Miss Beehive will never die. You see, that's the beautiful part about musical love affairs, there's no need to ever say good-bye.

Don Charles
Discoveries, May 1999