Patti LaBelle has spent six decades onstage, collecting hit records, Grammys and the affectionate nickname “Godmother of Soul.” As she marked her 82nd birthday, she says she’s “having fun living it down,” enjoying simple pleasures like Saturday night card games — and taking other folks’ money, she jokes.
Singing remains central to her life. LaBelle describes her voice as big and versatile — “loud, soft, it can rap, it can do opera, on a good day” — and says she’ll keep performing as long as she can. She still calls Philadelphia home and traces her musical roots there, remembering a shy childhood as Patsy Holt. Her parents encouraged her; she practiced with a broom for a microphone and found her first thrill in a church choir duet when the congregation rose up and cried, “Hallelujah.”
As a teenager she joined a girl group. A record executive suggested she adopt the name LaBelle — meaning beautiful — but also insulted her appearance, calling her “quite ugly.” The remark stung, and she later had only one cosmetic change: a nose job to correct what she felt was too large.
When Patti LaBelle and the Blue Belles reinvented themselves as Labelle, they embraced bold looks and provocative songs. Their hit “Lady Marmalade,” about a New Orleans sex worker, pushed boundaries — the group didn’t even fully understand the meaning of the French phrase “voulez-vous coucher avec moi” at first — and drew criticism from some quarters, including nuns. LaBelle points out they were touching on themes of revolution and sexuality before many other groups did.
Labelle split in 1977, and launching a solo career terrified her; therapy helped. She resolved she would never stop singing, whether solo or with others. Away from music, LaBelle has built a second career as a cookbook author and entrepreneur, publishing bestselling cookbooks and selling products under Patti’s Good Life. A hometown appearance handing out pancake mix at a Philadelphia ShopRite created a stir and reminded her of her local roots.
Asked about being called a legend, she laughs: “I should be called, ‘Legend, legend, legend, legend.’ Yes. I love it. I have earned it. Yes, I have.” Her message is simple: she knows who she is — mother, grandmother and artist — and she’ll keep performing until she can’t anymore.