by CeeLo Green
CeeLo Is Loberace is not only my tribute to great historic showman Liberace—whose piano I used with the Muppets on the Grammys—but also to the great showmen who I grew up loving and still love to this day. I learned by watching the greats, like Prince and Sir Elton John, and I hope people could see their influences in my act.
I will never forget when Elton invited me to one of his famous Oscar parties. When he first saw me, Elton grabbed me, kissed me on the forehead, and just stood there shaking his head at me like he knew just how naughty and nice I was. And to me that moment was like the ultimate compliment—it was like Sir Elton was formally accepting me into a very select and very crazy club of showmen who simply will not be stopped. As much as anyone on Earth, Elton John knows exactly how much nuttiness, balls, and bravery you need in order to take those big chances in this life. I am proud to say that I feel like Elton and I are cut from the same colorful cloth—though Elton’s cut of the cloth is probably a little pricier.
Elton’s husband, David Furnish, once told me a funny story. He and Elton were watching the 2011 Grammys at home, and Elton walked away for a minute—just as I appeared on stage in a sequined aviator cap and corona of feathers and started my performance of “Forget You” with the Muppets. All of a sudden his phone started vibrating all over the table with hundreds of emails and texts saying “HURRY WATCH THE GRAMMYS NOW! CEELO IS CHANNELING ELTON! CEELO IS CHANNELING ELTON!”
If you’re going to channel someone, how cool for it to be someone like Elton John—because as we all know, there is no one else like Elton John. He is an original and he influenced me and countless others both to be better showmen and to be our better selves with all of his charitable work. I would love to have the chance to work with him someday.
One dynamic diva that I did get to perform with was Madonna, who invited me to be on her Super Bowl halftime show in February 2012. Actually, the first time she had reached out to me was six years earlier, when Gnarls Barkley played Coachella. Madonna must have caught our act. Her first contact was just a message on my hotel phone, asking if I wanted to do something together some time. I’ll be honest with you, I was blown away. And my first reaction was an erection. I started singing “Madonna wants to do something!” But that wasn’t it—I was just excited. Although I would have gladly done it if that had been the request. That was just her way of letting me know she knew what was going on and what was hot. I didn’t hear from her again until “Fuck You” had become such a monster hit, and I was a star on The Voice.
When I met her for the Super Bowl rehearsals, she was intense. She definitely pushes herself to the limit and tries to work to the point of perfection, but hey, man, who couldn’t learn from that kind of work ethic? I’m honored to learn a thing or two from a queen, from an American icon loved all around the world. I didn’t try to act like I knew it all, especially around someone like Madonna who’s got about twenty years of international success on me. So I was thrilled to be her underling for a moment, just to get a glimpse into what it takes for her to survive for so long at that pace and at that altitude.
In the end, she wasn’t the type to push a lot of words of wisdom; we just talked a bit to take direction from her on how she wanted me to sing the song. But we joked around a lot. She teased me about not being late for the Super Bowl halftime, so I guess she had heard about my habits. She was kidding around, but she is a very serious professional. She told me, “Get it right.”
“It’s too much sexual tension, Madonna!” I said. “There’s a more direct way to handle this.”
She was playing hot potato with me, so we teased each other back and forth like that. I felt like she came prepared to give me a hard time and to play hard too.
Like I’ve said, I’m not easily impressed by much, and I try to take things in stride. But being part of that spectacle and singing with Madonna in front of 113 million people was mind-blowing, and probably the biggest moment in my professional career to date.
Equally mind-blowing to me was the chance to work as an actor on the remake of the movie Sparkle. Not only did I get to sing “I’m a Man” with a full head of Cold Wave hair in the beginning of the film—I also got to share the late great Whitney Houston’s last movie with her. Like everyone else on Earth, I loved Whitney Houston—one of the greatest voices of all time.
I remembered how when Whitney came to my hometown of Atlanta in the nineties, the city was on fire. She was an exciting addition to this musical hotbed—and Whitney kicking it in our neighborhood with Bobby Brown was one of the reasons that LaFace Records felt like the center of the world at the time. Atlanta was a place she really loved back then. You got the sense that celebrity was weighing on her—she really wanted to be an average person and not this big idea of Whitney Houston. A lot of people came to see she was human then. And a lot of people came to see her flaws—which she had like all of us. But I’m here to say that she was a great lady. Whitney was one of the biggest stars in the world, but what she wanted most then was to be a normal person. Atlanta was a place she could escape New York and Los Angeles and just be Whitney.
Yes, Whitney Houston had her share of ups and downs after that—and maybe more downs than ups. But I can tell you that at the end, Whitney was still magic. Her star power never left her. I spoke with Whitney on the phone just two days prior to her death, after Gipp and I ran into a mutual friend who put me on the phone with her. She asked me if I had seen an edit of movie, and I hadn’t yet, and Whitney said, “Well, you did such a great job, baby.” She said she was proud of me. Finally, she told me that I was going to be one of the all-time greats one day. That meant the world to me, and it always will, because it was coming from a woman who defined greatness for millions of us all around the world who will love her forever.
I’ve always loved acting, and these days I’m getting to do more of it. It was a kick being the voice of Murray in Hotel Transylvania. I got to play a version of myself alongside Gipp on the NBC drama Parenthood, and I thought I was very convincing. I also did a guest spot with Charlie Sheen on Anger Management—another topic I know something about. I’d like to pursue even more acting jobs, and that’s something my exposure on The Voice has helped open up for me.
My fame has brought me places I’d never imagined, from performing for British royalty to hanging with Barack and Michelle Obama. I’ve never been political in a conventional way, but when the President of the United States is an African American—a real African American in this case—well, that’s saying something about what all of us can achieve in this country. It’s something to stand up and acknowledge. So I’ve supported Obama and performed at campaign fundraisers for him.
The last one I attended was held at Tyler Perry’s studios on the West Side of Atlanta, near Greenbriar Mall. I drove over there with my sister, Shedonna, and a young niece and nephew who wanted to see the President. The route took us right past the mall, literally the scene of my youthful crimes. It was a surreal moment. I turned to Shedonna and pointed out a familiar bus stop. “Twenty years ago I stole a pair of tennis shoes from a kid right at that bus stop,” I told her. “And now I’m going to perform for the President.” At that moment I had to fall into prayer, thanking God for how far I had come in this world.
But when we got to the studio, I quickly returned to my usual self, acting almost on autopilot as I took the stage in front of a thousand people who were waiting for Obama to speak. As the band started striking some familiar chords, I asked, “Can I curse in here?” and then answered my own question as I launched into the opening verse of “Fuck You.” I can’t say that the room stood still. In fact, everybody was still dancing, but I could sense the oxygen suddenly sucked out of the air and I realized I had made a serious mistake. I quickly switched to the family-friendly version of the song, but the damage had been done in front of a whole lot of cameras.
After the show they led me back to the secure area where Shedonna and the kids were waiting. I was sweating bullets, and I didn’t want to go b
ack to meet the President. “I think I did a bad thing,” I told my sister.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Shedonna. “Let’s go.”
President Obama made a fuss about my niece and nephew, and they were thrilled. When it came time for us to shake hands, he never mentioned the song. All I can remember him saying is “Where’s the cat?” Purrfect upstages me every time, even when she’s not there. Then a campaign photographer took a picture of me with the President. For some reason, they never sent me a copy.
Word about the “Fuck You” incident spread fast. Certainly Fox News had fun with it later that night. And my grandmother was beside herself when she heard. She thought I had ruined my career. Shedonna called me that weekend and said, “Lo, Grandma’s called an emergency prayer meeting with her Bible study group for you cursing in front of the President! Would you please call and tell her you’re okay!” We assured her that the media had blown things out of proportion. It was bad, but not that bad. And my career has managed to survive my presidential faux pas.
The fame The Voice brought to me has also helped me to live out some of my other dreams. For instance, I want to become more of a businessman—and now I am co-owner of TY KU sake—which in my experience is not only a good product but also an effective aphrodisiac.
I love it now when my son Kingston sees me working on business projects so that he understands the hard work that goes into getting ahead. As I write this, he’s becoming a young man, nearly a teenager. I’m an artist, so as a parent I’m definitely liberal as far as the law will allow. But I am also the law along with the liberty. In all things you should aspire for balance, especially with a child.
I’m not sure what Kingston wants to be when he grows up. He’s inherited my ability to imitate sounds and voices. I was able to do that pretty well at his age. He can definitely sing, but he doesn’t necessarily want to be a singer. I don’t know where he’s heading, but I know I’ll always be there for him. At this age, he’s already had nine more years of his father than I ever had, and that’s an advantage. I’m hoping as he gets a little older, he’ll be even more connected with me, we can do a lot more together. He wouldn’t ever be in my way. I love him.
I remember when people ran to avoid me, and now they run to shake my hand or get my autograph. Yet I am the same man. How can I explain that? Well, I am pretty sure that somewhere deep inside of my chest cavity, it’s painted that I was here before. That sounds artful, but here’s the bottom line: I was fated to write an entirely different life for myself. Being normal was not an option, so I had to become extraordinary.
I feel like the love that I’m getting now is a reciprocation of an even deeper, deeper love. I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to say out loud how much I’m in love with what I do and the opportunity I’ve been given. In fact, today is probably the lightest my life has ever been. I feel young now, younger than when I was a child and things were so heavy. My journey started off uphill and eventually leveled off. I suppose some people get their toys early—and others like me just have to earn and enjoy them a little later.
It’s pretty miraculous how many different people like what I do and are into it so intimately. It’s gotten to the point where I’m not merely entertaining people anymore—I’m getting up under their skin in some other kind of way.
I hear from people all the time now who tell me that I give them hope that someone can be different and still be loved and appreciated on their own terms. Recently I was given an amazing photo book from Chicago of these challenged kids who were modeling and owning whatever physical issues they were dealing with—like missing limbs and others things that used to be called physical defects. It was very moving to see. I may not be that different, but somehow I represent those kids in the world today. I wonder sometimes if I appear deformed to people. That is not how I see myself. Personally, I think the truth is that I look like most people in the world—an actual human being with beautiful flaws.
Beneath the surface, we all have our broken places, and they help make us who we are. My life is a testament that if you really want to, you can turn pain not just into gold but also into joy to the world. We all know that the truest measure of wealth is not what we receive but what we give. And so I’ve started to give back to the community that gave me so much.
On a hot August day in 2012 I found myself right back where it all started for me in Atlanta, Georgia. My beautiful sister, Shedonna Alexander, and I were attending a groundbreaking ceremony for a greenhouse at the Southwest Atlanta Christian Academy—a place where I had caused no small amount of trouble as a child. But now I was back as co-founder, with my sister, of the nonprofit GreenHouse Foundation, which is dedicated to giving disadvantaged children access to “green” educations—and what better mission for a man who named himself “Green”? Shedonna runs the organization, which puts up greenhouses in underserved schools all over Atlanta so that kids can learn to grow their own food and take care of their environment. Basically, we’re going to do our best to try to help make the Dirty South and our world a little cleaner, and we’re starting with kids because that’s how we all start.
Shedonna and I were motivated to try to fill the big shoes of two strong ladies who made our journeys possible—our late mother, Sheila Callaway Tyler, and our grandmother, Ruby Callaway Robinson, both of whom showed us the importance of community service in their own lives. This first greenhouse was dedicated in our mother’s name, and the Atlanta fire department presented us with a plaque in her honor. We knew that she was there in spirit that day. And thankfully, our grandmother, who had been sick for a while, surprised me and showed up in person. Seeing her out and about made me happier than any hit record ever could.
The mayor of Atlanta came for the groundbreaking, and so did Gipp, T-Mo, and Khujo. When I spoke to the crowd, I spoke from the heart, even though I was reading from my BlackBerry. “What a fantastic feeling to see so many familiar faces,” I said. “I hope I’ve made you laugh. I hope I’ve made you cry. I hope I’ve made you think. I hope I’ve made you wonder. I also hope that I am encouraging you today… It’s not just a thought, it’s an action.”
That’s why I wrote this book. To encourage you, whoever you are, however much a mutant you feel like, to take the actions to make your dreams come true. Dreaming came naturally to me because the voices inside my head early on ushered me into a world of possibility. In my life, I had to get the common sense to listen to the right voices. That’s why on my right wrist I have a tattoo that says “Think.” And on my left wrist I have another tattoo that says “Twice.”
So until we meet again, I ask you to think twice, but dream big. That’s because whether the world recognizes it yet or not, there’s something beautiful in your voice, and you are and will always be the only one on Earth who can sing your song.
I promise passion! It pleases me to please the people I’m partial to. If time permits, I’m in two places at one time. Pieces of mind pulse with persistence, penetration. I can’t seem to pick. I want partners, not employees. Two beauties have become business professionals who have taken me personally… So is the prospect of polygamy possible? As long as I don’t have to divorce the idea, we have a deal. Thoughts?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My life isn’t over yet, but this book is.
So a loud “fuck you” to everyone who ever doubted that I would get this far. And an even louder “thank you” to everyone who helped me get this far, including my son, Kingston; my grandmother Ruby; my entire family; my brothers Big Gipp, Khujo, and T-Mo; Larry Mestel and my whole winning team at Primary Wave; Mark Burnett, NBC, and The Voice family; the tireless Meredith Smith and the whole team at the Creative Trust Literary Group; our brilliant editor Beth de Guzman and everyone at Grand Central Publishing; David Wild; and all of you out there in the world who took the time to buy and actually read my book. Thanks for sharing the Lo life for a while.
I will tell you this… the story isn’t over, there’s a lot more to come
. Prepare for the next chapter of Lo!
THE MATRIARCH: My grandmother Ruby Callaway Robinson. She saw it all, and I’m so thankful she was always there for me.
THE MOTHER OF ALL MOTHERS: My mother, Sheila Jeanette Callaway, had a lot of strength in her, and, sadly, she would need every bit of it.
OH BROTHER, OH SISTER: My sister and I grew up together—okay at least she grew up.
PHOTO OPPORTUNITIES: Looking back, it seems like every time Shedonna and I were together, someone was snapping a photo. And there were no smartphones back then, kids!
BIRTHDAY BOY: Here I am with my sister, Shedonna, on my third birthday.
SMILING FACES SOMETIMES: Yes, there was a lot of pain in our childhood, but there was also a lot of love.