We were returning to the city and driving bumper to bumper
on Manhattan’s East River Drive late summer of 1968. There was a chill in the
air, yet enough heat inside to comfortably roll windows down and invite the
urban rant of car-horns and shouting taxi drivers circulate.
Bassist Stu Wasserman and I backtracked from one of those
weeklong gigs playing mostly Sam & Dave, Wilson Pickett and Eddie Floyd
upstate New York and were spinning the radio dial for something to arouse the
right side of the brain when we come across the sound of tribal tom toms
beating a war like pattern. Then a sweet gritty tenor pierces the landscape
singing, “Ooh, I bet you're wondering how I knew 'bout you're plans to make me
blue with some other guy that you knew before. Between the two of us guys you
know I love you more. It took me by surprise I must say, when I found out yesterday.
Don't you know that? I Heard it Through the Grapevine!”
That was it! The two of us were gone. I’m beating the
dashboard while driving my right foot through the floorboard of the car as if
pounding a bass drum as Stu slaps the steering wheel like a high-pitch snare
drum. It was one of the most blissful drives of my life and then it was over.
Damn!
We just happened across a station that had the audacity to
play album cuts then fade into the next song without a back sell. That didn’t
dissuade us. We did a cross-dial crusade in search of a second miracle. A few
minutes pass and there it is again but this time it’s a different cast with a
female voice (Gladys Knight). Killing good!
I hadn’t been listening to radio. I was constantly on the
move. Greenwich Village was all about the moment, the time of day, not hanging
near a radio unless you ran down the usual ten flights of stairs in your
tenement building for provisions at a local bodega. The music was Latin based –
Willie Colon, Fania All-Stars – sometimes the Vanilla Fudge. It was the road
gigs I’d do my catching up.
Stu and I hung in, but since the first cut is usually the
deepest, we were dead set on hearing that amiable tenor reprise our first
encounter. Then it happened – “I’m listening to you folks – you asked for it. I
don’t usually play the same track so soon, but the verdict is in – today’s
Marvin’s call. Here it is again, Marvin Gaye and, “I Heard it Through the
Grapevine.”
Who didn’t love Marvin Gaye? Women especially did! Marvin
was a second husband to many a house wife. While the man was at work Marvin was
at the home site; in the bed room, the kitchen – even the front yard, depending
on the receptive strength of the transistor radio.
Women would say, “I like the Beatles OK – but they are boys.
Sammy Davis – to old. Sinatra – is like being around a bossy father.” Marvin
was the one who had an open invite into the bedroom.
Marvin didn’t just sing – he seduced.
Marvin was born into an Old Testament house, strict
Pentecostal; the son of a preacher man and a domestic. There were no gray areas
only right and wrong or as Marvin would reveal; “It was like living with a
king, a very peculiar, changeable, all powerful king, who would administer
brutal beatings.” The relationship never improved over a lifetime of father and
son battles. To be seen with an approving eye, treated to a kind word of
respect or even fatherly affection was something never offered. It would be the
fight of Marvin’s life.
Gaye started singing at age three. The church was the
central family hub. That’s where the church organ was and those big spiritual
voices. Gaye soaked it all in, learning to sing and play the keys.
After time served in the Air Force, Gaye began singing do-wop on street corners with neighborhood groups. This is where he learned to
move the vocal parts around and re-harmonize.
Gaye began touring and playing with various road shows when
Motown record’s Berry Gordy heard him with the Moonglows and quickly signed him
to the label. Gaye soon married Gordy’s sister Anna who died recently at the
age 92. Anna was a big part of the family record business.
Gaye first worked as a session drummer for the label playing
on Smokey Robinson’s early hits with the Miracles. He struck gold himself with
his fourth release for Motown, “Stubborn Kind of Fellow.” That set him on a
magnificent pace – 20 major hits over the next ten years with a variety of
producers.
When Gaye rendered a performance it was divine. The voice
was a fusion of the romantic and sensual. The phrases were delicate, touching
and always had the feeling of a light jazz solo.
Gaye devised a rhythm base to every song that gave it a
unique foundation. The drums were up front in the mix; always pushing the
sidemen along and in tune with the dance movements of the day.
It was the duets with Tammi Terrell that stuck with me;
“Aint No Mountain High Enough, Your Precious Love, Ain’t Nothing Like the Real
Thing” and “You’re All I Need to Get By,” written by Nicholas Ashford and
Valerie Simpson.
These were the kind of songs that seemed to come from a
place never visited. The melodies soar and build to an erotic climax. Each play
brought the same results; complete aural satisfaction.
I got a good feel for the full potential and depth of these
songs while backing the Ray Charle’s Raelets in 1968 at the California Club on
Santa Monica Boulevard. The group at that time included Merry Clayton, Clydie
King, Gewn Berry and Alex Brown. They were signed to Tangerine Records.
The week long engagement is one I’ll never forget.
I was in the band – Kent & the Kandidates and it was day
one; full rehearsal. First up, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” I had heard on
radio and remember Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s searing version but this was
about to be something quite different. Four-part harmonies; glorious interplay.
Each pass of the song would bring me chills as the four
women invested more trust in us. Then on to, “You’re All I Need to Get By.” The
same sensation forced its way up my spine. These were moments all musicians
wished were engraved for an eternity.
I left the first rehearsal and quickly purchased Gaye’s
version. I needed to brush up on the songs and find the appropriate keyboard
voicings. After spending several solitary hours transcribing, I hit Wallach’s Music City and began
purchasing all things Marvin Gaye. Wallach’s had listening stations where you
could peel the shrink-rap and lose yourself in a long playing disc.
The gig with the Raelets was sensational. Every night a cast
of Hollywood luminaries would take up residence. Every night comedian Red Foxx
would take his usual position right side of band along the cushioned wall.
Gaye’s music also had an impact on marriages. Most newlyweds
come with differing tastes in music. I was wound up in Miles Davis, Otis and
Procul Harum; wife Kristine, Marvin Gaye and more Marvin Gaye. Our home was an
aural temple for Marvin. Both night and day, Gaye charmed his way into our
lives.
Gaye gained complete control of his music in 1971 with a
concept recording What’s Going On;
which to this day is recognized as one of the grand milestones in contemporary music.
Gaye self-produced and co-wrote. Motown head Berry Gordy
wasn’t buying. Gordy knew hits – those 2:30 minute short plays that get
straight to the hook, but nothing as elaborate and uncompromising as this ode
to a Vietnam War veteran and told from his point of view. The album touched on
relevant themes of the day; hatred, injustice, suffering; things that were
eating not only at the heart of the black community but young whites. The long
marches in Selma and fight for civil rights may have witnessed a fair amount of
attention and action, but the war was grading on the public conscience and
demoralizing. Gaye caught the rhythm of the times and need to capture the
heartache and dissatisfaction with the war mongers. The song itself was written
by Renaldo ‘Obie’ Benson, Al Cleveland and Gaye and influenced by an incident
of police brutality witnessed by Benson.
I’ve played What’s
Going On in so many formats; jazz trio, passable singers, big band and pop
units. Few understand the essence and brilliance of the song. Forty years later
the dark textures and ‘70s haze has lifted and the song sails along on its own
major to minor momentum.
Gordy resisted releasing. Gaye sidestepped and even got the
six minute single version of What’s Going
On to radio. It would sell over two
million copies.
Gaye’s marriage to Anna Gordy was turbulent and very public;
their separation a messy affair. The settlement awarded her a portion of
royalties from his future recordings. Marvin countered with a tell all; “Here, My Dear.”
Gaye would eventually file for bankruptcy when a judge
ordered him pay his first wife $600,000 in royalty payments as part of a
divorce settlement. He then moved to Europe to escape the Internal Revenue
Service. Gayle began ingesting greater amounts of cocaine and exhibiting
bizarre behaviour during his “Sexual Healing” tour, dressed in bikini underwear
and silk robe.
The living days were getting shorter and showdown with his combative
father, on the horizon. Gaye had one last commanding performance - an a
cappella version of “The Star Spangled Banner” before the 1983 NBA All-Star
game, shocked the stadium. To this day it is considered a classic.
Gaye’s life was played out as a battle between right and
wrong and his father judge and jury. Gaye was fatally shot twice by Marvin Gaye
Sr. April 1, 1984. Evidently, Gaye intervened during an argument between his
parents and Gaye Sr. pulled the trigger. Ironically, it was a .38 Smith &
Wesson caliber pistol Marvin Jr. bought
his father Christmas Day 1983 to protect the family from intruders that was
used.
Gaye was suicidal, depressed and struggled with a host of
personal demons. These are the things many a great artist has fought losing
battles – the most recent, the extremely gifted actor Phillip Seymour Hoffman.
With Gaye’s departure nearly thirty years ago, his personal
demons have been forever vanquished. For us, the music says something
completely different. The message of peace, understanding and life between the
sheets is reassuring and comforting. Those melodies, dance rhythms, and sweet
voice will be heard long after we all exit.
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