"Free, free from my past, free from the pain,
Free from the guilt that would cause me to be ashamed"
Until recently, Darwin Hobbs couldn't possibly muster up the courage to sing those words. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't; he was a man in chains. Though his towering, take-no-prisoners voice has for more than a decade inspired freedom in those with ears to hear, liberty didn't ring true to him, even though his life had all the makings of it: he grew up in church, he sang in church, he found love in church, he led worship in church. You could say he became a man in church—outwardly, at least.
Hobbs' fifth studio album, Free, is an end-cap to a period in his life lived under the guise of freedom. With it, Hobbs is finally experiencing emancipation—from his past, from his pain, from his scars, from the illusion that he was a grown man when, in reality, he was still grappling with the demons of a childhood marred by sexual abuse. He finally has a story to tell: "For the first time in my life I'm very excited to talk about where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going," Hobbs says.
The youngest of six siblings, Hobbs has been singing in church since he was 10 years old. Unlike other prodigies of gospel, though, his vocal gift wasn't a product of endless hours of choir practice or Sunday performances; it just dawned on him that he could sing. "I had no working knowledge of the fact that I could sing," Hobbs admits. "I wish I could make it more difficult, but I opened my mouth and I could sing. I never had formal training."
He could've fooled us. Without the schooling or the benefit or a lengthy résumé, Hobbs packed his bags and moved to Nashville in the mid-1990s to pursue a career in music. At breakneck speed, doors started opening for him—his first-ever gig as a session vocalist came mere weeks after setting shop in Music City. That's all it took before word spread like wildfire. "I just started getting referral after referral after referral," Hobbs says.
Before long, the singer became one of the most in-demand singers in town, recording more than 700 sessions for the likes of Michael W. Smith, Twila Paris, Michael Card, CeCe Winans, Donnie McClurkin, Jars of Clay, and countless others. Name anyone in the Christian or gospel music phonebook, and Hobbs is likely to have sung with or arranged vocals for them.
In time, those connections led Hobbs to industry veteran Charlie Peacock, who made the necessary introductions to eventually land the vocalist a deal with a then-fledgling label—EMI Gospel. Hobbs became a flagship artist at the imprint, as well as its first male singer and soloist. Those firsts gave Hobbs some leverage to score a handful of early career highlights, like recording memorable duets with Michael McDonald and Donna Summer, as well as setting on tape his lauded cover of "So Amazing," a song first made popular by Luther Vandross—a classic singer Hobbs is oft compared to.
In his decade-long tenure at EMI, Hobbs went on to record four critically-acclaimed albums (MERCY, VERTICAL, BROKEN and WORSHIPPER), and in 2007, the label commemorated the occasion with the retrospective THE BEST OF DARWIN HOBBS. Meanwhile, the session work kept going strong, adding to his mantle credits in albums by Michael McDonald, BeBe Winans, Chris Tomlin, Natalie Grant, Marvin Winans, and many others. The world was taking notice. Hobbs appeared in control.
But the world wasn't privy to what was going on behind the music. Unbeknownst to everyone—loved ones, label personnel, and ministry partners—Hobbs' inner-self remained trapped in his teenage years. Emotionally and spiritually, he was in bondage thanks to a man his mother invited into their home—the man she chose to marry after her first marriage ended in divorce.
