There’s no arguing that the Golden Age of Soul music and Rhythm & Blues was in the 1950s and ‘60s. As the style grew and developed quickly in the mainstream the biggest, most timeless names – Aretha Franklin, Gladys Knight, Otis Redding, both Ike and Tina Turner, James Brown and Marvin Gaye as well as the innumerable talents on Motown and Stax – all seemed to appear at once as a voracious appetite for new sounds kept vinyl presses running in near perpetuity and simultaneously spawned a nearly complete and spontaneous change in attitudes and interests in the realm of urban pop music. It was a heady time and sociological as well as political climates changed almost overnight; both Malcolm X and Martin Luther King died for their dreams, institutions of higher learning were integrated, Watergate both instigated the fall of Nixon and incited a growing disillusionment with the American federal government and while the war in Vietnam wasn’t over yet, the whole world seemed to be invested in a drive toward making itself a better place.
This is the feelgood revisionist history lesson that they teach in schools now, but the truth is that it wasn’t all so easy and, by decade’s close, the political and musical communities were still working hard. By then, a lot of the reaffirming gospel that was the driving force in the original rhythm and blues and soul power waves were treading into more secular pleasures as artists including Curtis Mayfield, Sly Stone, Marvin Gaye, James Brown, Isaac Hayes, Bobby Womack, Donny Hathaway and Stevie Wonder found the funk and began writing thought-provoking, socially conscious anthems that intertwined the once divided-by-miles arenas of the bedroom and the big picture of the world outside. That, like the biker gangs that held the peace at Altamont was only one percent of the musical thrust happening in urban music however. In Philadelphia, the poets and philosophers converged to take a different look at the world. Led by Leon Huff and Kenny Gamble, Philadelphia International Records began to get some steam, make listeners dance and make them think in addition to broadening the scope of what the platform that all of these acts were standing on could do and say; it was sex, it was violence, it was war, it was love, it was freedom, it was change, it was happiness and sadness – in short, it was life – not just one side or an average cross section of it. Now being re-released by Legacy Recordings, the albums released by Philadelphia International retain the pride and joy and everything else they embodied upon first release, but digitally re-mastered here and thus sound as if they could have been released yesterday. This review takes a look in brief at just a few of those definitive records.
The O’Jays
Back Stabbers
(Philadeliphia International, 1972; Sony BMG/Legacy, 2008)
Almost like summing up an entire movement that took a decade to incubate, O’Jays singer Eddie Levert sums up a global struggle flawlessly in the chorus of “When The World’s At Peace” when he asks simply, “When the world is at peace, will it still be in one piece?” In that one song, The O’Jays sum up the entire civil rights movement of the Sixties as well as the Vietnam war – do it well and succinctly – in about five minutes. With Back Stabbers, The O’Jays aren’t so much chronicling old events though, as taking pages from the newspaper and applying universal truths to it. Motions to overcome adversity and forgive their fellow man his trespasses instead of seek retribution are the guiding principle here (“Love is not a state of mind, Love’s a fact of life” says it all) and such sentiments are made to feel like the golden rule by Levert’s gilded and gospel-tempered pipes.
As the singer ruminates on the vicissitudes of the human condition and how equality still doesn’t seem so equal, the band re-envisions the sonic palette of soul to include strings that would soon enough be blanched and co-opted by disco and horns that don’t so much punctuate lyrical stanzas as they would in funk or melodically drive the songs as they would in Sixties soul, but rather strive to simply add more colour to the songs; Carlos Santana would employ a similar device but applied to a guitar less than ten years later and continues to do so into the present day. There’s a certain orchestrated classicism to the instrumentation (that also includes vibes, piano, guitar and xylophone) that adds an urgent majesty to songs like “Mr. Lucky,” “992 Arguments” and the title track, but not even when The O’Jays mellow out to tell a woman that he has to leave to meet his wife in “Listen To The Clock On The Wall” there is still a fantastic and immovable wall of sound that gives Back Stabbers an epic scale that is undeniable.
Billy Paul
360 Degrees Of Billy Paul
(Philadelphia International, 1972; Sony BMG/Legacy, 2008)
That Philadelphia has always had a rich reserve of musical talent isn’t in dispute, but when Leon Huff and Kenny Gamble signed Billy Paul, it was a significant coup. Having first made a name for himself scatting with the right honorable likes of John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, Lee Morgan and Sun Ra, Paul was a mainstay of the Phillie scene but on a comparative level to many of the others, both on on the Philadelphia International label and to soul in general, Paul’s is a different sensibility entirely. 360 Degrees is representative of that as, being comprised of one-third cover songs (the rest were, of course, written by Huff and Gamble), Billy Paul makes it plain right away that he is a singer first that puts all of his power and energy into vocals and his vocal performances without exception.
But what power and energy it is. As the singer lights up and totally overshadows the original versions of songs by Carole King, Elton John and Al Green, Paul showcases a vocal virtuosity seldom seen in soul or any other pop form for that matter. Where other singers growl or scream to build energy or thematic urgency, Paul’s unique and soaring syncopated melodic sense is capable of building any form of energy or backdrop required – be it the clipped and inquisitive edge of “Am I Black Enough For You,” the cocksure strut of “Brown Baby” or the cuddling pillow talk of “Let’s Stay Together” and “Me And Mrs. Jones.”
Not so much the sort or force for change that one would expect from a stable of artists intent upon such motives, Billy Paul’s is a more understated and compelling mandate. While other Philadelphia International artists were intent upon changing the directions or augmenting them from the inside, Billy Paul strikes out on his debut and begins building his own school that singers in the decades following from Kanye West to even Justin Timberlake would take classes in.
Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes
Wake Up Everybody
(Philadelphia International, 1975; Sony BMG, 2008)
There is one sound that anyone old enough to remember Seventies soul or, failing that, has a father who was a fan will tell you is unmistakable. Those that don’t actually know so well will take the shortcut and say something like the husky croon of Barry White is what made soul soulful. They don’t know. No, the single most recognizable sound that marks a song as soul sung in the Seventies is the fiery, overdriven and ecstatic howl of Teddy Pendergrass. It is power, potency and pathos personified; even people that didn’t much like soul in the Seventies owned a Teddy Pendergrass album for those special occasions after a second or third date when that girl came home with you and Led Zeppelin II just wasn’t going to do it. Teddy Pendergrass was the ticket. Every time.
The blueprint for each one of Pendergrass’ records lies in the grooves of Wake Up Everybody by Harold Melvin and The Blue Notes. Released in 1975, the album was actually the last of four Blue Notes albums to appear on Philadelphia International and, conspicuously, the last to feature Pendergrass before going solo; after that, the singer kept a stellar solo career for over the better part of a decade (and certainly got hundreds, if not thousands of men laid) and still remains in the record collections of men over the age of fifty – if only for sentimental value.
Before that happened though, it can only be said that The Blue Notes saved the best for last. Opening with the seven-minute epic “Wake Up Everybody,” the band instantly begins delivering one of the world’s most revered message songs (second only to Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On”) and then takes the procession out onto the dance floor to profess his love in the most public fashion in “Don’t Leave Me This Way.”
To say that Wake Up Everybody was a revered classic in its day is something of an understatement. Within twenty months, Teddy Pendergrass would release his solo debut to a warm reception that would, in one fell swoop, wipe the slate clean for the singer and get him started on his own propulsive journey. Still, Wake Up Everybody is possessed of at least two classic tracks in “Don’t Leave Me This Way” and the title track and that, for many people, should make it worth a listen.
Teddy Pendergrass
Teddy Pendergrass
(Philadelphia International, 1977; Sony BMG/Legacy, 2008)
– and –
Life Is A Song Worth Singing
(Philadelphia International, 1978; Sony BMG/Legacy, 2008)
It has been said before (and sort of implied in this review) that, after charting massive success with Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes for four consecutive records, it was inevitable that Teddy Pendergrass would go solo and, in 1977, that’s exactly what he did with a self-titled debut. Unlike his work with The Blue Notes, Teddy Pendergrass finds the singer looking more inward than out and his message music now is limited to messages of love directed at one particular person (as is perfectly exemplified by “Somebody Told Me”). It works, of course, because Pendergrass’ incendiary vocal delivery has not diminished with his change of confines. Rather, with studio musicians on the clock, the music that Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff (understand that this was a different time when not every singer also had much to do with the writing duties – that’s more a development since 1982 and singers and bands that didn’t have the money to pay a songwriter started fine tuning their craft) have penned for this album better compliments the innate romance in the singer’s tonal range; in short, sweeter music that leaves all the fire to the singer.
The combination of the writing and arrangements only slightly diminishes the impact of the songs here of course, they might as well have been designed to be wedding dance classics and that has not changed with time. Other than the standout “I Don’t Love You Anymore” (standout because it’s comparatively up-tempo and decidedly unromantic) and the rather depressing “The Whole Town’s Laughing At Me,” the album fairly drips with dew-eyed sentiment but still manages to keep from being overwrought.
By 1978, North America was in the throes of Disco Fever and, to everyone’s surprise, Teddy Pendergrass proved with his sophomore effort, Life Is A Song Worth Singing, that he could dance that dance too; his time with The Blue Notes got him on the dance floor, and when he stepped out this time he was ready, willing and able to rule it.
With enough wah guitar and big ass bass to match his baritone, tracks like “Get Up, Get Down, Get Funky, Get Loose,” “Only You” and the title track dance the hustle right on time and, unlike his solo debut, offer an excellent foil against the Quiet Storms of “Close The Door” and “It Don’t Hurt Now” that take Teddy back to the bedroom for a little more of what he does best.
In this context, in some ways, Pendergrass’ solo work could be seen as diminished returns from his work with The Blue Notes – even when he takes the energy up a notch, it’s still pretty mellow and the message in the music has fallen away to the power of the dollar but, hey – this was the Seventies before there was a stable counterculture; everybody has to make a living.
Leon Huff
Here To Create Music
(Philadelphia International, 1980; Legacy/Sony BMG, 2008)
After about thirteen years of writing solid gold hits for the entire roster of Philadelphia International Records (Gamble and Huff were responsible for writing and arranging 170 gold and platinum records) – as well as producing and arranging for them – one day in or around 1980, Huff realized that he had never done one for himself. So that’s exactly what he did.
Here To Create Music is undeniably the work of a man used to working the mixing desk for someone else and not at all accustomed to being the centre of attention. From the opening synthetic drum skitter of “Your Body Won’t Move, If You Can’t Feel The Groove” (which is a nice play on the “It Don’t Mean A Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing” motif incidentally), lyrics are few and far between unless performed by others (including Teddy Pendergrass, The O’Jays and The Jones Girls) and, even then, the focus is very much on the orchestrated swells and cinematic grandeur over anything so trite as a message. Among the stellar instrumental tracks there are chops and layering never (not as in ‘not often,’ never) found in the pop or soul musical idioms (check out the piano in “I Ain’t Jivin’, I’m Jammin’” or “Tight Money” – the closest approximation to a non-classical form might be jazz) and Huff is clearly going out of his way to turn heads because there are superfluous parts littered everywhere in sight on these ten tracks that seem to be deisgned to be conversation pieces revolving around the potential artistry of soul.
The kicker is that it works though – prior to this point soul was designed with lyrics in mind because it only made sense to include a singer in order to express such a human component. Here though, the interplay between the piano, horns and strings suggests a dialogue that ebbs, flows and moves along under its own power and thus rendering a vocalist superfluous because the interplay between the instruments is almost lyrical in itself.
In that way, Here To Create Music opens up a tonne of possibilities for Soul as a musical idiom. With such an enormous dynamic scope as the songs on Here To Create Music, as early as 1980, Leon Huff has raised Soul to the level of a higher art form. Both listeners and musicians must recognize that fact too; because since Here To Create Music’s release, it has reigned largely unchallenged as the pinnacle of instrumental Soul and those that have produced something they presumed to be the album’s equal have been laid low and forgotten.
Labels & Links
Gamble & Huff Music
Legacy Recordings
