Dusty Springfield ’s voice is truly iconic. It’s not only beautiful but also influential. Songs like ‘Son Of A Preacher Man’ or ‘Spooky’ feel like standards, as people have ever since tried to replicate her velvet smoothness and delicious energy on the track. But in the singer’s own words, her vocals often came along with a level of insecurity as she heard the work of her peers.

As an artist levels up in their career, pressure mounts. Things that we think of as major achievements or exciting moments often come along with a weighty responsibility. We hear of artists going to historic studios to record and think of it as a privilege, forgetting that maybe attempting to live up to the ghosts in that room makes the session feel somewhat stressful. When artists work with world-renowned producers, chances are they’re terrified, trying to impress them. Even when they sign on the dotted line of a big new deal, it’s not just the label executives peering over their shoulders that feel like a weight.

There’s also the legacy element. When someone signs to a record label, it’s not just about the particulars of the deal they’re putting their name to. It’s the fact that they’ve now joined alumni of other artists, being adopted into the class of every other name that’s ever been signed to the same place. They become a part of a history and a lineage far bigger than them.

To many, that must be a huge honour. Anyone signed to RCA knows they’re being entrusted by the label that signed Elvis Presley. EMI backed the likes of Kate Bush and Pink Floyd. Columbia put their money behind Bob Dylan , Bruce Springsteen and more. So when you sign to them now, you’re in hallowed historic company.

But for Dusty Springfield, the people behind those looming legacies weren’t just ghosts; they were still working. When she signed on the dotted line for Atlantic, she was suddenly aware that she was in the same ranks as one huge icon – Aretha Franklin .

“I hated it at first,” she said about the time she came to make Dusty In Memphis, her first release on the label when she was suddenly being supported by powerful collaborators and a major new label. When she got in the vocal booth, that pressure seemed to get to her. “I hated it because I couldn’t be Aretha Franklin,” she said.

To make matters worse. She was not only on Franklin’s label but was in her studio. Recording at American Sound Studio in Memphis, the iconic singer had been right there in that same booth. “Whatever you do, it’s not going to be good enough. Added to the natural critic in me, it was a paralysing experience,” she said.

She became obsessed with the idea. It didn’t help that she was also recording a song that had been offered to, and, at the time, rejected by, Franklin – ‘Son Of A Preacher Man’. “Aretha had been offered it but didn’t record it until after I had, and to this day, I listen to her phrasing and go, Goddamit!” the singer explained. “That’s the way I should have done it: ‘The only one, WHO could ever reach me’ instead of ‘the only one who could EV-er reach me’. Now, if I do it onstage I’ll cop her phrasing!” she said, kicking herself that she didn’t hear what her idol did.

“It was a matter of ego, too: if I can’t be as good as Aretha then I’m not gonna do it at all,” she told herself. But while the two women’s voices are worlds away, Springfield’s track is so iconic that she surely more than did herself proud.