reissues

Rip It Up, Issue 208, 1 December 1994, Page 41

reissues

HITSVILLE USA: Motown Volume I: 1959-1971; Volume II: 1972-92 (Motown).

Currently on high rotate on TV is an ad for a classic hits radio station. A couple in their late 30s are having a pash in a car to the song ‘lf You Don’t Know Me By Now’, when their kids call them inside. It’s very effective, as all the ads in the Thirtysomething Greatest Hits genre are. It shows the potency of hit songs, how identifiable they are to feel-good periods of our lives.

Even though that song was a hit for Harold Melvin on Philly in 1972, it’s unthinkable without Motown: a classy urban ballad, made by blacks for all audiences. Now, thanks to The Big Chill, early Motown hits are seen as yuppie music, a slur which cheapens the music more than the yuppies. But Motown always was yuppie music, made by young upwardly mobile blacks for young upwardly mobile fans of all races.

The problem for Motown over the last couple of decades has been, when you’re “the sound of young America”, what happens when your audience grows up? Once, Motown almost had its audience sewn up. Now, it faces competition from a variety of labels covering music that was formerly Motown’s territory. The golden era of Motown is featured on the first, four-CD volume of Hitsville. It documents the production-line period of the company: the Detroit years. Songs were written by teams such as Holland-Dozier-Holland, and given a trademarked funky arrangement by the legendary funk brothers, among them pianist Earl Van Dyke, bassist James Jamerson and drummer Benny Benjamin. From Barrett Strong’s ‘Money (That’s What I Want)’ to Marvin Gaye’s ‘Mercy Mercy Me (the Ecology)’, nothing more needs to be said than it’s simply essential, an easily accessed history of black pop. In 1971 however, founder Berry Gordy shifted Motown to Los Angeles to expand into the movie business. The Funk Brothers disbanded. The company’s biggest acts were still vocal groups such as the Temptations and the Jackson 5. But Gordy was already grooming Diana Ross for diva-dom, and Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder had won creative control over their own recordings. So the scene was set for Motown in LA; the emphasis in the 70s was to be MOR ballads with big productions, solo vocalists (Eddie Kendricks, David Ruffin), singer-songwriters. Volume two opens promisingly, with the first solo singles by Michael Jackson and Diana Ross, the Temptations’ psychedelic epic ‘Papa Was a Rolling Stone’, and cutting edge black pop from Marvin Gaye (‘Let’s Get It On’) and Stevie Wonder (‘Superstition’), both free at last to express themselves. Motown was still putting out great music, but the heyday - when a single could be instantly be recognised as Motown from its opening bars - was over. Competition for sophisticated soul was coming from labels such as Philly and and Motown acts such as Ross, Gladys Knight and Valerie Simpson could have been from anywhere. Also, disco was on its way, mainly on Philly,

though Motown helped lead the way with the Jacksons’ ‘Dancing Machine’. Halfway through

Diana Ross’s funky ‘Love Hangover’ the change is so sudden it’s as if someone has hit the hustle switch. Marvin Gaye also dabbled in the form (‘Got To Give It Up’), while exploring stream-of-conciousness vocals in ‘I Want You’; Stevie Wonder could do no wrong (though strangely, from his mid-70s peak, only ‘Sir Duke’ is represented here). The late 70s at the label belonged to the Commodores, who shifted from being a party funk band (‘Brick House’) to a vehicle for Lionel Richie’s schmaltzy - but superbly crafted - ballads (‘Three Times a Lady’). The decade closed with the overdue comeback of the Godfather of Motown, Smokey Robinson (‘Cruisin’) and the emergence of Teena Marie, a talented young white girl whose style epitomised Motown in the 80s. She produced herself, had an enthusiastic voice, but buried it beneath generic studio funk and metronomic rhythms.. Once, Motown singles were produced by “The Corporation”; now there was no discernable company sound. But there were still plenty of hits, albeit in diverse styles: the novelty funk of Rick James (‘Give It To Me’), MOR ballads from Richie, wimpy teen pop from Deßarge, techno pop from Rockwell, girl group pop from the Mary Jane Girls - and the occasional re-entry by superstars such as Stevie Wonder (‘Part-Time Lover’) and the Temptations (‘Treat Her Like a Lady’: disco with dignity). Eighties acts such as El Deßarge, Stacy Lattisaw, Chico Deßarge, Today and Johnny Gill all suffer from the Teena Marie problem: nondescript backings smothering (or blanding out) voices that were usually excellent, and the melodies were often unmemorable. Despite this, the era demanded lengthy singles, so around the 2’20” mark, many older listeners started to channel surf. None of these criticisms could have been levelled during Motown’s heyday. Nevertheless, although the label’s profile was lower - stolen by the majors, and indies such as Sugar Hill - Motown was still having hits. People just weren’t looking for the map logo in the middle anymore.

In 1988, Motown was sold to MCA, and doom was predicted: the label would only continue for its oldies catalogue; new acts were irrelevant. But new chief Jheryl Busby was determined that no black man was going to be Motown’s undertaker. With the help of producer Michael Bivins, and the discovery of superstar acts such as Boyz II Men and Another Bad Creation, the label is once more a major force in contemporary pop. Significantly, hits such as ‘End of the Road’ (Boyz) and ‘lesha’ (ABC) utilised the musical values of the golden era; seductive grooves, sexy group harmonies - and melodies that lingered. Motown can once again claim the slogan “The Sound of Young America” - and its rich back catalogue will always help it through the lean years. It may no longer be at the cutting edge, developing new sounds such as hip-hop or acid house. But that is no longer the point. The best analogy for 1990 s Motown, the most successful black-owned company in history, is possibly a comparison with two other American corporations which have become icons: Disney and Coca-Cola. They won’t shock you with something new, but they are still pop culture at its most popular.

JAMES BOOKER