MARVIN GAYE
Recording years |
Main genre |
Music sample |
1961–1984 |
Classic soul-pop |
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Album
released: June 1961 |
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Tracks: 1) (I’m Afraid) The Masquerade Is
Over; 2) My Funny Valentine; 3) Witchcraft; 4) Easy Living; 5) How Deep Is
The Ocean (How High Is The Sky); 6) Love For Sale; 7) Always; 8) How High The
Moon; 9) Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide; 10) Never Let You Go (Sha-Lu Bop);
11) You Don’t Know What Love Is. |
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REVIEW Marvin Gaye liked Berry Gordy, and
Berry Gordy liked Marvin Gaye. That was enough to get Marvin Gaye signed to
Motown Records as a solo artist, even if there was precious little evidence
of his good prospects at the time; he’d done a little singing in a vocal
quartet, a bit of backing for other artists (funny trivia bit — that’s Marvin
Gaye out there, with several other dudes, singing backup vocals on Chuck
Berry’s ‘Back In The USA’ and ‘Almost Grown’), and a little drumming as a
session player on other people’s records. Yet all it took was one fateful
meeting with Gordy at his house in December 1960 — a meeting without which we
might never have had ourselves a What’s
Going On, because, for all his notorious artistic stubbornness and
tenaciousness, throughout his life Marvin also needed quite a bit of
guidance; and for the first decade of his career, he owned quite a huge debt
both to Berry and Anna Gordy (Berry’s elder sister, whom he married and who
was quite a motherly figure to him for a while). It’s not even entirely clear
what Berry saw in Marvin back at that meeting, other than his charming
youthful looks, but who of us wouldn’t have envied tha kind of intuition? |
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The greatest
irony of Marvin’s first year at Motown, though, is that his and Gordy’s story
pretty much inverts the classic stereotypical narrative of «struggling
independent artist asserting his identity in the face of the greedy and
calculating record executive». Gordy, who had only just begun building up the
image of his company as the flagman of a brand new pop sound, commercially
viable and artistically relevant at the same time, wanted Marvin to become a
living brand for that direction. Marvin was really uncomfortable with the
idea, though — not so much because he despised that kind of lowbrow
teen-oriented entertainment, but largely because it required a kind of stage
presence for which he was not ready. Instead, it was he who insisted upon pursuing a more «adult» route, singing dusty
old standards «for grown-ups» in the good old fashion of a Nat King Cole,
albeit slightly modernized for a new decade. In other words, the record
executive wanted the artist to be hip, modern, and progressive; the artist
insisted that the record executive let him be square, old-fashioned, and
out-of-time. And, in what would be the first, but far from the last time, the
«stubborn kind of fellow» had the upper hand over the record executive — much
to his own chagrin, in the long run. Actually, the
run wasn’t even all that long: Marvin’s first complete LP for Motown hardly managed
to catch anybody’s serious attention. First, it clearly wasn’t the right
place: throughout 1959–60, people had already grown accustomed to Tamla /
Motown’s initial roster of artists — The Miracles, Barrett Strong, Mary
Wells, Eddie Holland — and none of them were exactly doing the play-it-again-Sam routine, so an
entire album culled from the Songbook for Motown would be like Ivo
Watts-Russell signing Michael Jackson to 4AD a couple of decades later.
Second, it clearly wasn’t the right time: the procedure was such that you’d
need to become a relevant contemporary hitmaker first, and then start pleasing Grandpa and Grandma later — see both Ray Charles and Sam
Cooke, two of Marvin’s primary inspirations. Third, well... the album just
isn’t very good, you know. Simple as that. One general issue
with Marvin Gaye is that — and I do realize it’s a pretty subjective assessment
— while his singing has always been perfectly professional and strongly
charismatic, his voice is hardly what I’d call «outstanding»: it does not
have its own, unique, immediately recognizable timbre, and his phrasing is
devoid of any individualistic trademarks that, with some other singers, could
allow even a mediocre song strongly register across your conscience. In other
words, for a Marvin Gaye recording to count as great, it needs to have a
strong musical backbone behind the nice voice — which means that he really
should have avoided approaching the Songbook within a ten-mile radius. For
all the flack I’ve thrown at the likes of Sam Cooke for doing this thing, Sam’s
timbre, range, and modulation are precious gifts in themselves; next to him, Marvin
has a softer, weaker voice, and he hardly ever tries to generate any intrigue
with it. The
arrangements are fairly tasteful, more in the vein of late night jazz than orchestrated
Hollywood pap; Marvin’s own piano playing (and, occasionally, drumming) are
at the center of things, with light jazzy electric guitar coming in next (the
credits do not list the actual players, but there’s some pretty damn nice and
fluent soloing on ‘Always’ and a couple other tracks), and the swingin’
groove can get surprisingly tight and jumpy for a record label that is least likely to be associated with
this kind of genre. But taste is not enough — you have to prop it up with
either dazzling virtuosity, which would be too much to require of Motown’s home
band, or unique arranging vision, which Berry Gordy was unable to provide. The
result is predictable: The Soulful Moods
Of Marvin Gaye is pleasant background muzak that goes against core Motown
values and barely offers any glimpses into the glorious future that would
eventually await Marvin on the label. Arguably the
only point of mild interest here is Marvin’s very first single for the label,
thematically and stylistically different from the bulk of the LP but probably
included to fill up space or simply to give it another chance. ‘Let Your Conscience
Be Your Guide’ is a slow, sentimental blues waltz with a pervading organ
melody (to give it a bit of a Ray Charles feel, I guess); although written by
Gordy specially for Marvin, it still feels more somber and serious than the
usual early Motown stuff like ‘Money’ or ‘Shop Around’ — and far more
old-fashioned than required from the times. The B-side, ‘Never Let You Go (Sha-Lu
Bop)’, is actually more interesting: co-written by Marvin’s old manager Harvey
Fuqua and Anna Gordy herself, it is a tricky dance number, combining two
different time signatures, a heavily syncopated one in the verse and a
straight Little Richard-esque boogie-woogie in the chorus — although, at this
point, Marvin’s natural shyness and restraint still prevent him from fully
exploiting the song’s potential of excitement. In the end, we
are left with mostly historical interest: The Soulful Moods was not just Marvin’s first album, but the very
first LP released on the Motown label (along with Hi We’re The Miracles, which allegedly followed it in about a
week’s time) — and, stylistically, also one of the most unusual LPs to be
expected from the Motown label. Knowing that it exists will help you get a
better understanding of Gaye’s complex personality — but keeping it around
probably won’t help get you a better appreciation of Gaye as a masterful
interpreter of the Songbook. |