The Sound of Changing Young America: The Edgiest Motown Songs 1967-1972
When one thinks of Motown, it’s primarily the 1964-1968 days. They might see a loop of a B&W film in their mind and hear the label’s most buoyant and popular sound that appeared on the Supremes’ “Baby Love” or the Temptations’ “My Girl.”
The style was personified by an enterprise that collected the talents of young songwriters and producers like Smokey Robinson, Holland/Dozier/Holland as well as the house band who were called the Funk Brothers. Like any other label or genre, Motown’s sound began to change to more reflect the changing and trying times. Even as early as 1966, Motown began to release songs like the Supremes’ H/D/H’s dramas like “You Keep Me Hanging On,” “Reach Out, I’ll Be There” from the Four Tops, as well as Norman Whitfield’s harder edged R&B and Smokey Robinson’s broadening sonic and lyrical palette. By 1967, a style seemed to emerge from disparate sounds including Holland-Dozier-Holland’s later sessions, Ashford and Simpson’s ascendance and work from writers and producers who were in the songwriting collective called The Clan.
Of course the times had a bit to do with this change too. For the most part, Motown was often an apolitical label not given to overt sentiments. But with the changes in civil rights, the riots in Detroit and the changing times, the Motown sound seemed to morph from a pop-savvy, R&B style to a more conflicted, energetic, R&B sound that wasn’t especially “young” but was always soulful and oddly enough, not as well remembered as the earlier style.
These are some of the 1967-1972 productions that weren’t always the most popular but they are from Motown’s last identifiable Detroit era sound and the style.
“If You Let Me,” Jimmy Ruffin (1970)
This song is like a bolt of electric current and it is “heavy,” despite the cheery lyrics. “If You Let Me” is all but the theme song for Motown’s changing late ’60s, early ’70s sound with it’s funky bottom, shimming tambourines, haunted singers on the bridge and of course a gritty, conflicted voice at the top. “What Became Of The Brokenhearted,” released in 1966, gave Ruffin his biggest pop success. Shortly after, Ruffin became a solid R&B act and cut quite a few singles that failed to make a dent despite the great work. The original 45 mix of “If You Let Me” best captures their energetic style, especially with its distorted, carnival like intro and the strongly recorded drumbeats and surprising drum patterns.
“I’m In A Different World,” The Four Tops (1967)
Despite their hits, perhaps no other group had a quick reversal of fortune like the Four Tops. After hits like “Baby I Need Your Lovin'” and “I Can’t Help Myself,” by 1967, the group lost their production unit Holland-Dozier-Holland. For the most part, “I’m In A Different World”(#23 R&B, #51 Pop) sounds like typical fare, but there’s a sorrow and nervousness that’s punctuated by lead singer Levi Stubbs’s customary robust vocal, eerie instrumentation and the brief musical changes. “I’m In A Different World” was the last track that the Four Tops and Holland-Dozier-Holland worked on during this era. Although both factions continued to work in this vein, listeners were cheated out of hearing the Four Tops continuing to grow with Holland-Dozier-Holland sound production style.
“Here Comes The Judge,” Shorty Long (1969)
By the mid ’60s, the Motown roster was filled with “different” acts who didn’t seem to fit in any category. The diminutive Shorty Long was certainly one of those acts. Like JR Walker and the All Stars, Long offered pure R&B instead of Motown’s pop/R&B amalgam. Long’s biggest hit was the early to mid Motown hit, “Function At The Junction.” The funky “Here Comes The Judge” has that looser, late ’60s sound Motown often employed with varying degrees. Unlike many Motown acts, Shorty Long was allowed to produce his own sessions. “Here Comes The Judge” proves that Long had a great feel for Motown’s classic style as well as the changing times.
“How Can I Forgive You,” Marvin Gaye (1969)
Even at the beginning, Marvin Gaye seemed like the prototypical Motown act. In fact, his work from “Pride and Joy,” “How Sweet It Is” to “I Heard It Through The Grapevine” traced the changing sounds and styles of the label. By 1967, Gaye was mostly known for his love ballads with Tammi Terrell but he continued putting out hard-edged solo albums with his producer Norman Whitfield. “How Could I Forget You” has a sound more in a soul style, less pop and gave the Funk Brothers more of a chance to swing. This track also has fun and funky touches, like Gaye’s high-pitched wail, “After all you’ve done for me,” near the song’s end. “How Could I Forget You” was recorded in late 1969 and Gaye soon left this structured Motown sound and then applied them to his more jazzy, reflective style that was apparent on 1970’s classic What’s Going On .
“How Long Has That Evening Train Been Gone,” Diana Ross & the Supremes (1968)
After Holland/Dozier/Holland left Motown in 1967, the Supremes seemed to be casting about for a new sound and identity with a variety of producers. The Supremes certainly caught fire with this sound and style that seemed to pervade throughout the Love Child album. “How Long Has The Evening Train Been Gone” is propelled by James Jamerson’s bass playing and as the engrossing music and lyrics from Frank Wilson and Pamela Sawyer. The looseness of this style gave singers like Ross more license to not be as structured. Throughout this song, Ross is edgy, mournful and even playful. These are the same colors and nuances that flourished in her solo career that was only a few short years away from this brilliant track.
“Destination: Anywhere,” The Marvellettes (1967)
“And this ol’ world ain’t got no backdoor.” Smokey Robinson’s “My Baby Must Be Magician” set the Marvellettes off on a new course of Sophisticated Soul. For “Destination, Anywhere” there’s a certain quiet sorrow that permeates throughout and seemed to figure in Motown’s 1967-1972 sound. Even from the outset, young New York writers Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson brought a vivid and emotional song craft to Motown. The sorrow in this song was more than aligned to what Motown was already doing on its own. “Destination: Anywhere” at once has a single-mindedness yet an aimlessness that increases as the song plays and is accentuated by the locomotive rhythm and a sadness that doesn’t abate.
“Steppin’ On A Dream,” The Ruffin Brothers (1970)
“In a dim-lighted street cafe/I found much more than his words could say…” By 1970 both Jimmy and David were foundering solo acts despite the highs of the decade before. At this point, it was decided they’d sing together. Why not? They were on the same label, shared the same DNA and were both singers who could articulate a certain existential dread that was often exhibited in Motown’s songbook. “Steppin’ On A Dream” was great for The Ruffin Brothers gospel-trained and melisma filled voices. And this song in particular points to the fact that the old Motown axiom (Keep It Simple, Stupid) was becoming a thing of the past as both Jimmy and David both amazing runs and vocalizations. “Steppin’ On A Dream” has the right mix of true drama and hyperbole and shows how potent the newer style could be especially with singers strong enough to withstand the heavy production.
“California Soul,” Undisputed Truth (1971)
As a producer, Norman Whitfield could craft rough and tumble romantic songs for Marvin Gaye, sharp and polished R&B for Gladys Knight and the Pips as well as jolting psychedelic soul and R&B for the Temptations. For the trio Undisputed Truth, Whitfield could often employ all production tactics for the talented act. Ashford and Simpson’s “California Soul” is a well-traveled song, but this version captures the era and Motown’s changing sound in equal abundance. Compared to Whitfield’s other productions of the era, “California Soul” is a bit more subdued than Whitfield’s normal late ’60s, early ’70s style but the changing times are still present, especially with the great guitar effects and the general hip vibe that’s present throughout.
“Shoo Be Doobie Do Da Day,” Stevie Wonder (1968)
Stevie Wonder’s career started to get interesting by the mid ’60s. After failures like “Workout Stevie, Workout Stevie” and “Hey Harmonica Man” Motown had to finally grasp that Wonder wasn’t a kid anymore and was a maturing act. When they did, Wonder started getting hits again. Songs like “Hey Love,” and “I Was Made To Love Her” got him to the top of the charts. “Shoo Be Doobie Do Day,” from 1968 was a #1 R&B that had Wonder steeped in that great late ’60s sound. Like many songs of the time, “Day” is filled with it’s share of bad vibes and conflict as tambourines are high in the mix and the Andantes vocals are used to eerie effect. This song is seemed to be the beginnings of Stevie “doing his own thing.” Around the same time, Wonder got even nastier on “You Met Your Match” but “Shoo Be Doo Da Day” had a great slow burn and sting that has lasted for years.
“Strung Out,” Gordon Staples & the String Thing (1970)
By the late ’60s, it was hard to know where Motown’s head was at. But often it did get it right by signing the right person from left-field and pursuing the right projects. Staples was the head of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra which appeared on countless Motown hits like the Four Tops’ “(Reach Out) I’ll Be There” as well as the Temptations’ “My Girl.” By the end of the ’60s, Motown was changing and the work heard on Gordon Staples’ 1970 classic Strung Out was proof of that. “Strung Out” is an at once moody and swinging track that was arranged by Paul Riser. The cinematic sweep of “Strung Out” caused the song to be used for Fred Williamson’s 1976 movie Mean Johnny Burrows that time with new vocals from the ’70s Motown group The Devastating Affair.
“Thank You Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin,” Hearts of Stone (1970)
It takes a lot of doing to make something that sounds like this. Sly and the Family Stone was a big influence on late ’60s Motown with the psychedelic productions of Norman Whitfield and the playful covers from the Jackson 5 and the Supremes and the Temptations second duet album. However, Hearts of Stone’s take on Sly and the Family Stone’s seminal and spare funk classic 1969’s “Thank You Falettinme Be Mice Elf Again” is uniquely odd. Unlike the other songs, this track seems to have more than its share of “show-bizzy” sound that Motown started to do, especially on its West Coast sessions and variety shows of the day. That said, “Thank You Falettinme Be Mice Elf Again” holds its own due to the funky bass line and of course this era of Motown production values and sound. By this point, this style and groups like Hearts of Stone were getting swept away by the changing focus and the move towards California.
“I Want To Hear Her Say It Again,” David Ruffin (1971)
If your label shelves a song like this, your label probably hates you. “I Want To Hear Her Say It Again” is yet another early strong solo outing from the former lead singer of the Temptations. Ruffin was a natural at tracks like this, especially with his bracing and precision diction. Ruffin’s was always known for the strength of his voice and here it cut through heavy productions and this is a heavy production. “I Want To Hear Her Say It Again” seems to be a bit dated for 1971 with its sound midway between hard R&B pop-ish Vegas-y horns. That dichotomy makes the track a bit more interesting than some of the others listed. Sadly it was all for naught. By the late ’60s and ’70s, this style was often the sound that languished in the vaults and “I Want To Hear Her Say It Again” wasn’t released until 2004.
“I Can’t Dance To That Music You’re Playing,” Martha Reeves and the Vandellas (1968)
This is interesting, very interesting. After Martha and the Vandellas had the 1967 hit “Jimmy Mack (recorded in 1964) Motown had already strayed from that classic sound. In that respect, the joyful and rhythmically innovative “I Can’t Dance To That Music You’re Playing” might have dragged Martha and the Vandellas into a future and sound people weren’t expecting from them. The song itself seemed to have “issues” during its creation. The most known version has Syreeta Wright (who sounded like Diana Ross on the track) doing the lead vocals on the chorus. Conventional wisdom was that Reeves was too busy or didn’t like the song. Turns out she did do a so-so lead vocal for the chorus that is on the “original” version. “I Can’t Dance To That Music You’re Playing” was written by Debbie Dean and Deke Richards who would go on to do similar work with Diana Ross and the Jackson 5.
“I’m Livin’ In Shame,” Diana Ross and the Supremes (1969)
If “Love Child” wasn’t enough, there was “I’m Livin’ In Shame.” This song was written by Pam Sawyer, R. Dean Taylor and the Clan – the collective of writers that wrote “Love Child.” For a group that was the epitome of Motown’s insouciance and public relations, “I’m Livin’ In Shame” was a terribly depressing song – yet it so well done. At this point, the production and style is late ’60s Motown in overdrive with insistent, unnerving guitar lines, gripping lyrics and of course Diana Ross’s drama-filled delivery. Despite the potential for chaos, “I’m Livin’ In Shame” worked and the subject matter more than fit the production style. Although the post 1968 Supremes are best known as Diana Ross’s exit point, an album like Diana Ross and the Supremes Greatest Hits Volume 3 is all but a travelogue of Motown’s late ’60s changes.
“Nathan Jones,” The Supremes (1971)
The poignant “Nathan Jones” from 1971 might make a Motown fan wish the label never left Detroit and Studio A and B. By this point, it was clear that the Supremes weren’t going to hit the Diana Ross era stratospheric pop cultural or musical heights. What was possible was a steady career of solid hits with their new lead singer, the talented Jean Terrell. “Nathan Jones” is a great girl-group song with an involved plot and like a lot of this era of Motown, the sadness seemed to resonate despite the upbeat proceedings. Credit also goes to producer Frank Wilson with his innovative production and the writers Leonard Caston and Kathy Wakefield who were all part of Motown’s early ’70s artistic transformation.
“Take Me In Your Arms (Rock Me A Little While),” The Isley Brothers (1967)
The Isley Brothers were one of the few established acts to join Motown and they signed to Tamla Records in 1966. Despite hits like “This Old Heart Of Mine,” the mix between the Isley Brothers and the Motown production mill was never perfect. 1967’s “Take Me In Your Arms” proves that the contrast of Motown’s sheen and the Isleys call and response raucousness could be a good mix. Although this seems like “typical” Motown, there’s a bit of an edge to the sessions (also on “The Behind A Painted Smile.”) In retrospect, Ronald Isley’s impassioned (if not possessed vocal) was a harbinger for the style to come. This track – produced by Brian and Eddie Holland – does have more than a few traces of the classic 64-68 style with the restless energy of what was to come.
