Subscribe
Search
The True Sound of Classic Philly Soul!
Love Train: The Sound of PhiladelphiaLove Train: The Sound of Philadelphia is a four-CD set with 71 songs. As great Philadelphia International Records was from the day of its founding in 1971, it still couldn’t encapsulate all the glories of Philly Soul, so a third of the tracks here were not PIR releases (though a few were on a subsidiary); they start in 1967 with the classic “Expressway (To Your Heart)” by the Soul Survivors (a psychedelicized white group produced by Kenneth Gamble & Leon A. Huff, around whom much of the Philly scene would soon revolve). This gets such Philly greats as the Manhattans, the Spinners, Jerry Butler, the Delfonics, the Intruders (with the longer, wittier version of “I'll Always Love My Mama”!), the Trammps, and the Stylistics in the picture, along with the mighty one-shot of “Be Thankful for What You Got” by William DeVaughn, much-sampled (even if you’ve never heard this song, you know its “diamond in the back, sunroof top, diggin’ the scene with a gangsta lean” bit).
Of course, all the PIR stars are well-represented: Teddy Pendergrass (solo and in Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes), the O’Jays, Lou Rawls, and eventually Patti Labelle, along with such second-tier favorites as Billy Paul, Bunny Sigler, MFSB (the instrumentals under their own name – including the great “Love Is the Message” with a keyboard riff EPMD just had to cop – and their indomitable grooves behind the stars), the Three Degrees, McFadden & Whitehead, and the Ebonys. A whopping 44 tracks are produced by Gamble & Huff (plus 1 by “The Staff (for Kenneth Gamble & Leon A. Huff),” 2 by Huff and 1 by Gamble w/Dexter Wansel), 9 by Thom Bell, 3 by Bobby Martin (who did most of the G&H arrangements), a couple by McFadden and Whitehead and associates, 1 by Bunny Sigler on his own (who also co-produced 1 w/G&H), and 5 by others, on 1 of which Bell was the arranger. Nearly every track sports the full, lush, shiny production that epitomizes the sound of Philadelphia (a familiar phrase that, along with its TSOP acronym, became the name of Gamble’s personal label [a PIR subsidiary], a MFSB/Three Degrees song, and a touring revue).
It all proceeds quite sensibly in chronological order, and as we move from 1967 to 1983, we hear the beginnings of disco. Not everything is familiar, notably the lubricious 1972 single “Slow Motion” by Chicago journeyman Johnny Williams – which, with its heavy beat and stinging horns, bears a strong resemblance to Southern soul. The few welcome surprises aside, this compiles pretty much what you’d expect, but its commendable thoroughness and consistently high quality makes it recommendable.
The barebones (credits but no notes) single-CD compilation The Sound of Philadelphia: Gamble & Huff’s Greatest Hits gathers 14 songs; all but Pendergrass’s “Close the Door” being in the box set. “Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now” isn’t a G&H song or production, so it’s odd that it’s here. Strictly for folks who can’t afford the box.
Conquer the World: The Lost Soul of Philadelphia International Records, on the other hand, offers a wealth of titles not in the box. In fact, not only are 14 of the 16 songs here absent from LT:TSOP, 10 of the artists aren’t even heard from there (Pat & the Blenders, Soul Devalients, Ruby & The Party Gang, etc.). Collectors who’ll skip the box because they’ve already got most of it will love this. But the obscurity of these tracks certainly doesn’t signal inferiority, and their freshness also counts in their favor.
The Essentials are each two discs and cover much more than just hits. The Essential Patti LaBelle has 30 tracks and also spans more than just her PIR ('80s) output, which in fact is vastly in the minority here. Nowhere near chronological, it reaches as far back as 1962-63 for two Patti & the Blue Belles tracks (BTW, the “b” got capitalized much further down the line). There’s some discographical oddness there; their 1962 hit “I Sold My Heart to the Junkman” was supposedly recorded by the Starlets, but here a live-at-the-Apollo rendition is used instead that really is by Patti & the Blue Belles. However, while the weirdly foursquare “Down the Aisle (The Wedding Song)” is included, their other Top 40 hit, “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” is not (though that’s arguably a good move). Essential also sports eight tracks (one previously unreleased) by her innovative 1971-77 trio Labelle (which resulted from Cindy Birdsong quitting the Blue Belles to join the Supremes), including the #1 hit “Lady Marmalade,” their only Top 40 number. Two discs is more than I need, but one wouldn’t have quite been enough, so that choice is understandable. But be warned that for much of this ballad-heavy collection, the production meter was set at “saccharine,” overflowing with tinkly, tacky electric piano – old-school this isn’t, and by this point things had just gotten too slick. The shining exception is “New Attitude,” its pumping synthesizers so dated that they engender nostalgia. Well, that and the fact that it’s a sassier, more compelling song than she usually got after LaBelle disbanded.
The concert album is (mostly) being released for the first time but dates from 1982. If you think she’s over the top in the studio, just imagine her going nuts in front of an adoring audience. Questions of taste don’t enter into the equation. Yes, in case you couldn’t guess, Ms. LaBelle is not my cup of tea: too gaudy, too brassy, too frenetic, flash over substance (and her influence on several generations of R&B singers has basically ruined them for me), backed by unimaginative arrangements. For the perfect example, there’s the track that was released in '85, her take on “If You Don’t Know Me By Now,” slowed down and stretched out tediously to allow for maximum vocal histrionics. But plenty of people disagree with me, and they’ll love this, from the early ‘80s stuff that was still fresh then to the updates of a few Labelle hits.
There are 35 tracks on The Essential O’Jays, covering much more than their PIR days. It starts in 1963, when they were coming out of doo-wop (and were on Capitol); there are seven '60s tracks, the last three with G&H. Then comes the familiar '70s/PIR era (covering eight LPs in 25 tracks). It wraps up with a 1987 song, a 1991 Dylan cover, and a 1995 Gerald & Eddie Levert cover of “Wind Beneath My Wings.” Understand that the O’Jays are one of the greatest groups in soul history. Having this set – which, with as much ground as it covers, is definitely a good idea – doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also have their major PIR albums: Back Stabbers, Ship Ahoy, and Survival. As far as Legacy’s 2005 one-CD Essential O’Jays, there’s nothing on it that isn’t here. My complaint in 2005 was that “Now That We Found Love” wasn’t included; it’s on the new set, along with four other songs from the period the earlier compilation covered.
And now there’s the Total Soul Classics series, the first six volumes of which just came out. If anybody doesn’t already have Teddy Pendergrass’s eponymous debut or its follow-up Life Is a Song Worth Singing, or the O’Jays’ Back Stabbers, here’s another chance to acquire those classics without which no soul collection is respectable. Yes, some of their hits are in the box, but these albums are no mere hits-plus-chaff programs. If there’s a complaint, it’s that they’re light on bonus tracks. Of these three, only Life… has any, a single mix (eh) and a disco mix (slightly more interesting) – although, tantalizingly, the booklet notes mention two others, a live version of the title track and another mix of “Close the Door.” What happened? Oh well, at least fans who’ve bought these albums before won’t have to agonize over whether to buy them again. Although, if they have kick-ass speakers, they may want the improved sound here anyway.
Those who don’t have them, should. Back Stabbers opens with a surprising Bunny Sigler production, “When the World’s at Peace,” that reflects the style of Sly & the Family Stone. Sigler has three tracks; G&H handled the rest – something PIR often did on its albums, a clever way of ensuring variety. Then it’s on to the iconic title track with its high strings, horn stings, and the alternating vocal timbres of Eddie Levert, Walter Williams, and William Powell masterfully arranged by Thom Bell (who famously wrote out every note of his arrangements in advance). It was a new kind of soul that had absorbed funk elements yet remained smooth as silk (and if you can’t get enough of it, “992 Arguments” is darn near a reprise). The drums are absolutely steady, leaving all the syncopation to the other instruments, notably guitar – but light, sinuous guitar, nothing heavy. If that sounds like the formula for disco, well, it would be soon. The lovely, searching ballad “Who Am I” (another Sigler production) showcases another side of the group, and lets loose Levert’s love-man emotiveness. Levert’s powerful, churchy singing style always cuts through the smooth arrangements, perfectly complementary (like Levi Stubbs in the Four Tops). The peak of the album, in those terms, is another Sigler production, the lusciously beautiful pop confection “Sunshine.” And then, as if there hadn’t been enough peaks already, along comes “Love Train” to close out the album. Even its current use in a commercial for piss-water beer cannot dim this song’s infectious optimism and sense of community.
As for Pendergrass, the man is a force of nature. When he went solo, stardom was practically guaranteed, and by '77 disco was in full effect. But this isn’t simplistic disco; there’s enough going on in “The More I Get, the More I Want” and “You Can’t Hide from Yourself” to keep even hardcore funk fans happy. Even the breaks are chock-full of activity. And the pacing is superb; nothing ever drones on, everything builds and builds. From track to track there’s also variety; the ballad “And If I Had” is extremely downtempo, just before “I Don’t Love You Anymore” explodes in a barrage of percussion (that “more cowbell” guy would love it). Maybe not every track is a masterpiece, but Pendergrass’s singing is so magnificent that everything sounds good anyway. From stentorian commands to heartfelt pleading, he’s absolutely assured in any mode, and, a former drummer, his sense of timing is impeccable; he doesn’t sing over the arrangements so much as lock into them like a lead instrument.
His sophomore effort proved every bit as good, and includes a moment in the seduction ballad “Close the Door” that’s totally Teddy: after having said, “I’ve got so much love to give, and I want to give it to you” and similar sentiments, having detailed all the great things they should do together, he commands, “Come here, baby” – and later, positively roars “Come here, woman!” – and I have witnessed totally independent women melt at that moment, and jealously wished I commanded that degree of charismatic authority. And “Only You” is another dancefloor burner full of interlocking cogs, but less smooth and more brawny and forceful than usual. The accusations of formula weren’t entirely without merit, but there was plenty of room for variety within the PIR formulas. And again, the less famous tracks are still worth hearing.
The other three reissues are less crucial, but still thoroughly enjoyable. Wake Up Everybody (1975) was the last Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes LP with Pendergrass on lead vocals, and not coincidentally, the title track was the group’s last Top 40 song. The album as a whole mellowed their sound slightly, with “You Know How to Make Me Feel So Good” (featuring a duet vocal by Sharon Paige) especially sweet. The disc also boasts the disco classic “Don’t Leave Me This Way,” later a hit for Thelma Houston but just as good with Pendergrass up front at his most velvety until he flips into a more aggressive tone for the bridges. The LP ended tepidly with a Paige lead vocal; now it goes out with a bonus track of Tom Moulton’s mix of “Don’t Leave Me This Way,” and as all DJs know, Moulton mixes are superb extensions and amplifications of the most interesting elements of a track to make it even more club-worthy. Even though it has two very noticeable seams, this one “pops” so much more than the original that it’s astounding. To make an already excellent G&H track better is no small achievement!
Billy Paul was a veteran of the Philly jazz scene who suddenly hit the big time with this album’s classic cheatin’ song “Me & Mrs. Jones,” which spent three weeks at #1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Unsurprisingly, the bonus track on 360 Degrees of Billy Paul (1972) is a concert version of “Me & Mrs. Jones.” Paul’s throaty sound and the jazzier tone of both his singing and the arrangements on many of the tracks set this album apart from most PIR albums, and for that matter from the sound of the hit and its failed follow-up, the funky “Am I Black Enough for You.” There are also three covers done up with real imagination: “It’s Too Late” (Carole King), “Let’s Stay Together” (Al Green), slowed way down, and “Your Song” (Elton John).
Leon Huff’s Here to Create Music (1980) was his only solo album, and was done without Gamble. He wrote all but one track by himself and arranged all but one other himself, and it sounds like he wasn’t aiming for hits. Keyboard-heavy, light on vocals and horns, with strings on just two of the ten tracks, it often doesn’t sound much like a Philadelphia International record, more like a soul-jazz jam, especially on the semi-legendary “I Ain’t Jivin’, I’m Jammin.” Stevie Wonder contributes harmonica on "No Greater Love," one of the two relatively lush tracks. Far from essential, yet a true find for aficionados; it’s great to have this back in print. - Steve Holtje
Mr. Holtje is a Brooklyn-based poet and composer who splits his time between editing Culturecatch.com, working at the Williamsburg record store Sound Fix, and editing cognitive neuroscience books for Oxford University Press. No prizes for guessing which pays best.
Comments
Post new comment