Roberta Flack had a way of making time stand still. Her voice didn’t just fill a room; it reached into the listener’s soul, holding them captive in the quiet power of her delivery.
Roberta Flack, who passed away on 24 February 2025 at the age of 88, didn’t merely perform songs—she lived in them, unravelling every lyric and phrase with quiet intensity.
News of her passing sent ripples through the music world, a moment of reflection for those who had been moved by her artistry.
According to her publicist Elaine Schock, Flack died peacefully at home, surrounded by family, nearly three years after being diagnosed with ALS.
The disease took her ability to sing in 2022, but it never silenced her impact.
A career spanning six decades had already cemented her place among music’s most enduring figures.
A Classical Prodigy Who Found Her Own Sound
Before Atlantic Records came calling, Flack’s story was one of prodigious talent and relentless dedication.
Born in Black Mountain, North Carolina, she showed such exceptional ability that Howard University offered her a full music scholarship at just 15.
While most teenagers were navigating secondary school, Flack was immersed in classical piano studies, honing a precision and depth that would shape everything she later created.
After graduating in 1958 with a music education degree, she taught during the day while performing in Washington, D.C.’s club scene at night.
At Mr. Henry’s, a local venue where her Sunday sets became legendary, she caught the attention of jazz musician Les McCann.
That discovery led to an Atlantic Records audition—a three-hour session that she later admitted was excessive: “I probably sang too many songs.”
But her signature blend of humility and musical generosity would come to define her career.
Beyond Labels: A Singular Artist
Flack emerged during an era of soul powerhouses, yet she never slotted neatly alongside contemporaries like Aretha Franklin or Diana Ross.
Where others soared with gospel fervour or Motown gloss, she crafted something altogether different—an understated, jazz-inflected intimacy that made listeners lean in rather than step back.
“I’m a serious artist,” she told TIME magazine, resisting attempts to box her into a single genre.
Her influences, rooted in classical giants like Arthur Rubinstein and Glenn Gould, surfaced in the harmonic sophistication of her work.
This deep musicality set her apart, lending a refined elegance to soul, folk, and R&B that was hers alone.
Her breakthrough came unexpectedly when Clint Eastwood selected The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face for his 1971 film Play Misty for Me.
A song that had quietly existed on her 1969 debut album suddenly took centre stage, spending six weeks at the top of the Billboard charts and winning Record of the Year at the 1973 Grammys.
Flack’s interpretation slowed the tempo to a near whisper, allowing the lyrics to settle with an emotional weight few had anticipated.
Songs That Became Soundtracks to Our Lives
What follows is not merely a catalog of hits but a chronicle of moments when popular music transcended into something approaching the sublime:
“Compared to What” (1969)
Opening her debut album with this scathing protest anthem, Flack channeled the disillusionment of a generation watching civil rights promises go unfulfilled while Vietnam raged.
Her delivery balanced raw desperation with intellectual precision, earning comparisons to Nina Simone’s most political work.
The jazzy accompaniment belied lyrics of remarkable contemporary relevance about abortion rights, war, and social inequality.
“Ballad of the Sad Young Men” (1969)
This Broadway number from “The Nervous Set” found new meaning through Flack’s interpretation.
What was once a cabaret piece about Beat-generation Greenwich Village became, in her hands, a haunting acknowledgment of the LGBTQ community’s struggles – radical territory for mainstream music in 1969.
The song’s line about “all the sad young men, drifting through the town/Drinking up the night, trying not to drown” gained profound poignancy through her empathetic reading.
“Just Like a Woman” (1970)
Flack’s stunning reinvention of Dylan’s classic appeared on her sophomore album “Chapter Two,” where she flipped the perspective entirely, singing in first person: “I take just like a woman/And I make love just like a woman.”
Her matter-of-fact delivery made Dylan’s original suddenly seem overwrought, transforming his accusatory tone into a statement of self-possession.
The revisionary brilliance lies in her blasé approach – waving farewell to a romance with neither regret nor melodrama.
“You’ve Got a Friend” with Donny Hathaway (1971)
Their first collaboration showcased the extraordinary chemistry between these Howard University classmates.
While everyone wanted to sing Carole King’s anthem in the early ’70s, nobody made it sound as deeply authentic as Flack and Hathaway, harmonising over his soulful electric piano.
The intensity of their musical connection transforms the final thirty seconds into something transcendent as they trade lines between each other with familial warmth.
“Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” (1971)
Flack first encountered this Shirelles hit while teaching and incorporated it into her club repertoire.
Her version on “Quiet Fire” aligned closely with Carole King’s 1971 solo take but pushed the emotional stakes even higher.
“It was a time of deep introspection,” Flack reflected in 2021, “and this song expressed a vulnerability that each of us experiences in the course of finding and embracing love.”
Her tender performance highlighted all the slow-burning devastation and yearning inherent in the lyrics.
“Where Is the Love” with Donny Hathaway (1972)
Their most commercially successful collaboration remains a masterclass in vocal interplay.
The luscious arrangement provides the perfect backdrop for the contrasting textures of Flack’s crisp soprano and Hathaway’s earthier tones.
Yet beneath this sonic beauty lies heartbreak – the moment of realizing your beloved remains in love with someone else despite their protestations otherwise.
The joint delivery of “You told me that you didn’t love him/And you were gonna say goodbye/But if you really didn’t mean it/Why did you have to lie?” carries devastating emotional weight.
“Be Real Black for Me” with Donny Hathaway (1972)
Though not a major chart hit, this original composition by Flack, Hathaway, and Charles Mann resonates as a shining hallmark of the “Black is beautiful” era.
When Flack croons “Your hair’s soft and crinkly,” the line startles because natural Black hair is rarely described in popular music as inherently beautiful rather than merely symbolic.
Her slow, bluesy intonation caresses these words of affirmation, creating a love song that doubles as cultural reclamation.
“Killing Me Softly With His Song” (1973)
From the moment Flack begins with the chorus, she takes complete possession of this Charles Fox/Norman Gimbel composition.
Her restrained but emotive delivery nestles within producer Joel Dorn’s twinkling arrangement, creating the definitive version of a song that would later find new life with the Fugees.
Her wordless “who-oh-oh” improvisation stands as one of her most impassioned moments on record.
The brilliance lies in how a song about music’s emotional power becomes itself a vehicle of seduction.
“Some Gospel According to Matthew” (1975)
This acoustic-guitar ballad written by Stuart Scharf appeared as the B-side to “Feel Like Makin’ Love” before featuring on her subsequent album.
Flack adopts a breezy, unflappable response to lovers’ conflict, singing “Love according to Matthew’s a matter of time.”
The jazzy feel evokes Joni Mitchell’s “For the Roses” era, ending with the understated confidence of her kiss-off: “I’ve come a long way using freedom to keep me inclined/So take it from Matthew, it’s my time.”
“Feel Like Makin’ Love” (1974)
Sensual and dreamy, this fantasy-driven hit became one of 1974’s most defining recordings.
Flack’s delicate vocals float above the groove-driven production, recalling how life’s simple pleasures – changing seasons, holding hands – intensify her desire.
You can trace a direct line from this recording to the disco divas who would follow – Donna Summer, Thelma Houston – in the years ahead.
Remarkably, Flack produced this herself under the pseudonym Rubina Flake, breaking ground for female artists seeking creative control.
“The Closer I Get to You” with Donny Hathaway (1977)
Written by two members of Miles Davis’ band (James Mtume and Reggie Lucas), this subtle, conversational duet showcases their unique chemistry and intimacy.
The commercial version that reached the Top Five in 1978 runs under five minutes, but the original studio take was twice that length, allowing their voices to intertwine more extensively.
Flack later said of her partnership with Hathaway, “Our musical synergy was unlike anything I’d had before or since” – a sentiment listeners can feel in every shared phrase.
“Back Together Again” with Donny Hathaway (1980)
Released posthumously after Hathaway’s tragic death at 33, this track appears on “Roberta Flack Featuring Donny Hathaway,” which was intended as a follow-up to their beloved 1972 album.
James Mtume and Reggie Lucas’ light disco arrangement provides the perfect backdrop for their joyously soulful reunion, creating a bittersweet document of what might have been had Hathaway lived.
The song became both a radio staple and summertime cookout essential, preserving their partnership for a new decade.
“Making Love” (1982)
Roberta Flack was the rare artist who could score massive hits with nearly identical titles that conveyed entirely different emotional landscapes.
Where her 1974 “Feel Like Makin’ Love” was dreamy romantic bliss, this Burt Bacharach/Carole Bayer Sager/Bruce Roberts composition offers a rueful, disillusioned perspective.
Written for a Hollywood drama about a wife discovering her husband is gay, the song explores the understanding that “there’s more to love, I know, than making love.”
Though the film faded quickly, the song marked a significant comeback – Flack’s first Top 40 hit in three years.
“Tonight I Celebrate My Love” with Peabo Bryson (1983)
This gold-certified ballad from their collaborative album “Born to Love“ predates Bryson’s Disney soundtrack duets by a decade.
Co-written by Gerry Goffin (who also penned “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”), the song transforms physical intimacy into something transcendent.
“Soon this old world will seem brand new,” Flack coos with a sense of wonder that elevates what could have been merely sensual into something spiritual.
“Oasis” (1988)
Arriving near the decade’s end, this chart-topper encapsulates the era’s adult-contemporary aesthetics with light keyboard lines and percussive world-music influences that were then in vogue.
Produced by Flack herself and written by Marcus Miller and Mark Stephens, the track showcases her playful side as she sings about sharing a heart beneath a desert moon.
For an artist renowned for intensely profound ballads, “Oasis” offered a glimpse of Flack enjoying life’s simpler pleasures.
“Set the Night to Music” with Maxi Priest (1991)
Flack’s final major hit paired her with London reggae singer Maxi Priest on this Diane Warren ballad.
Originally a Starship deep cut, Flack made it entirely her own through her sophisticated phrasing and emotional authenticity.
The collaboration proved fitting, as early-’90s radio featured numerous smooth soul voices clearly influenced by Flack’s pioneering approach – from En Vogue and Regina Belle to Anita Baker and Whitney Houston.
The Producer Behind the Music
From her fifth solo album onwards, Flack took greater control behind the scenes, producing under the pseudonym Rubina Flake.
In an industry where women were often sidelined from production roles, her insistence on creative autonomy was groundbreaking, paving the way for future female artists to claim their space beyond the microphone.
The Social Conscience Behind the Ballads
Though best known for romantic ballads, Flack never shied away from addressing social issues.
The Reverend Jesse Jackson once described her as “socially relevant and politically unafraid”—a fitting tribute to an artist who consistently engaged with the world around her.
In a 2020 interview, Flack reflected on the recurring themes in her music: “I recorded songs about civil rights, equality, and human suffering 50 years ago, and sadly, many of those issues remain unresolved.”
Whether through a protest anthem or a love song, her music always carried a sense of purpose.
A Legacy That Endures
Flack’s influence extends far beyond her own recordings. When the Fugees reimagined Killing Me Softly in 1996, they weren’t just covering a song; they were continuing a musical conversation she had started decades earlier.
Her impact can be heard in the deliberate phrasing of Alicia Keys, the nuanced storytelling of Lauryn Hill, and the effortless restraint of contemporary soul singers like Snoh Aalegra and H.E.R.
For Flack, it was never about vocal acrobatics but about finding the emotional truth within a song.
Though ALS took her voice, her influence remains woven into the fabric of modern music.
Upon her passing, Questlove summed it up simply: Thank you, Roberta Flack. Rest in melody.
In her own words: “Every song I’ve recorded expressed something deeply personal to me. I never sang anything I didn’t feel.”
That sincerity, that refusal to perform just for the sake of it, is why her music still resonates.
Her voice may be gone, but every time someone presses play, Roberta Flack lives on.
