SMOKEY ROBINSON AND THE MIRACLES

important work in color

1961: Hi, We’re the Miracles. 1962: Cookin' With the Miracles * I’ll Try Something New. 1963: The Fabulous Miracles * Recorded Live on Stage * Doin’ Mickey’s Monkey. 1964: Gemini. 1965: The Miracles’ Greatest Hits – From the Beginning * Going to a Go-Go. 1966: Away We a Go-Go. 1967: Make It Happen (later titled The Tears of a Clown). 1968: Greatest Hits, Vol. 2 * Special Occasion * Time Out. 1969: Live * Four in Blue. 1970: Pocketful of Miracles * Whatlovehasjoinedtogether * The Season for Miracles. 1971: One Dozen Roses. 1972: Flyin’ High Together * Smokey Robinson and the Miracles: 1957 – 1972 (live). 1974: Anthology. 1994: Thirty-Fifth Anniversary Box.

SMOKEY ROBINSON

1973: Smokey. 1974: Pure Smokey. 1975: A Quiet Storm. 1976: Smokey’s Family Robinson. 1977: Deep in My Soul * Big Time (soundtrack). 1978: Love Breeze * Smokin’ (live). 1979: Where There’s Smoke. 1980: Warm Thoughts. 1981: Being With You. 1982: Yes, It’s You Lady. 1983: Touch the Sky * Blame It on Love and All the Greatest Hits. 1984: Essar. 1985: Smoke Signals. 1987: One Heartbeat. 1990: Love, Smokey. 1991: Double Good Everything. 1997: Ultimate Collection.

THE MIRACLES

1973: Renaissance. 1974: Do It Baby. 1975: Don’t Cha Love It * City of Angels * Power of the Music. 1977: The Miracles Greatest Hits.

Back when Rolling Stone was a brand new magazine, Vince Aletti was the pop critic whose job was to champion soul music. Aletti’s sincere love of sixties’ soul music and his frustrations at its shortcoming were apparent as he divided the essential from the outrageous while managing a laudable overview of the genre. Aletti didn’t equivocate or overlook the deficiencies of African-American artists; he never lapsed into the kind of condescension common in the reviews of Jon Landau, Dave Marsh, and Robert Christgau, whose critical spite and acumen vanished whenever they were dealing with this particular ethnic group. Aletti’s taste may not have been valued much: in the first two editions of Rolling Stone Record Review, many mediocre soul albums were elevated to near classic status by slippery critical standards and a ridiculous rating stratagem. Vinice Aletti, on the other hand, could refer to Diana Ross’s "Remember Me" as the shrillest single Motown ever released, … unforgettable, if also unbearable." About one of Stevie Wonder’s early attempts to break from Motown control (Where I’m Coming From), he writes: "He blew it. Not only are the lyrics sadly undistinguished, but much of the production and arrangement is self-indulgent and cluttered with effects that too often obscure the utter virtuosity of Wonder’s singing." When the subject turned to soul "neoclassicism" of groups like the Stylistics, the Delphonics, the Chi-lites, the Main Ingredient and the Persuaders, Aletti described the genre as "a unique, unusually put-together sound that may be a little too stylized for some tastes, but if you’re not into highly stylized r&b then forget this whole thing."

Race politics will, perhaps, always be involved in pop’s critical evaluations and, in his reviews, Aletti wrestled with the era’s emphasis. In trying to sum up Motown: The First Decade (1971), a multi-album set that compiled many of the label’s most well-known talents, Aletti prefaced his review with an excerpt from Leroi Jones:

"…Not the Hamlet burden, which is white bullshit, to always be weighing and measuring and analyzing, and reflecting. The reflective vs. the expressive. Mahler vs. Martha and the Vandellas. It’s not even an interesting battle … cause reflect never did shit for any of us. Express would."

Of course, this signified a reflection by Leroi Jones on Mahler (who is seen as an academic and racial stereotype), on pop music, on Shakespeare and Hamlet (Hamlet being, of course, Shakespeare’s expressive creation): and it’s also an analytical contemplation of black/white musical issues. It never seems enough that African-Americans have tended to dominate American popular music for the better part of the century (though jazz and blues never had the same unhealthy preoccupation with love songs as did modern black pop music before rap), and new ways are sought to extend dominion. Using Jones to feed his analysis, Aletti talks about "expressions of the emotional life black music has always been most concerned with." He says:

"Usually this means expressions of love and the problems of love … one of the last stands of high romance ideals. But it’s love carried beyond its own absurdities into a pure, spiritual realm so that the best of these songs are not just about emotions, they are emotion, are life … Black music is about life (love) ad transcending the content through the form. This sort of total expression is the heart of Motown Records. Over the years they have been interested in nothing so much as success. Motown never lost touch with the real lives of people who bought records."

The juxtaposition of "success" and "expression" rests more easily tha would a juxtaposition of "success" and "personal expression." Personal expression in the "pop" field hasn’t always been inclined to keep its inner eye focused on "the People." Aletti’s and Jones’ populist remarks could have been made in defense of Tin Pan Alley, the Brill Building, Hollywood movies, and television. Motown’s commercial success may have been the result of calculating that love songs were the road to success, but its failure was due to the same calculations.

If Aletti’s analysis wasn’t adequate in exonerating the entirety of Motown music, it did make sense in relation to Motown’s greatest artist. What it took for William "Smokey" Robinson to rise above the countless failed albums and failed songs that Motown churned out, was a total acceptance of Motwn’s inclinations. He epitomized Motown’s approach. He maximized it. Regarding Motown from a business perspective, Smokey was a corporate man who could say without scruples, "The artists – they don’t really have anything to do with it. The producer is doing the tune so they just go and they sing it and fortunately, for us, we have artists who do not bitch about their songs." Ensuring anonymity by not printing the names of their session men on records, and by carefully guiding the career moves of their name acts, Motown management perpetuated a stable roster of outrageous talent. Some artists were perfectly matched to Motown – dependent on the songwriting pool, they were thankful for the help. Other artists were prevented from reaching full maturity under Motown conscripts. Some of the session men are on record as having lived for their musical night jobs away form the Motown hit factory. And what a drag it gets to be praising James Jamerson’s or Benny Benjamin’s interesting contributions to awful songs. Jamerson’s dancing bass and Benjamin’s emphatic fills may have been the most crucial elements in Motown’s early music. Yet nobody seems completely sure which tunes they played on (female bassist Carole Kaye played on some of the Four Tops’ hits, for example). Though the power in the music was fueled by an amazing rhythm section, the only thing that separated Motown’s modest success rate from rank failure were the songwriting talents of Holland-Dozier-Holland and Smokey Robinson.

Luckily, Smokey was an artist first and a businessman second. And prodigious enough to mix both without the more important characteristic being tainted. Writing and producing good love songs was Smokey’s goal in life. He believed in love songs in the same way Donovan believed in astrology, and Sgt. Barry Sadler believed in the Green Beret. He was Motown’s Boy Dylan, Goffin/King and Beatles all in one streamlined package. He’s Dylanesque in the insane power of his puns, similes and metaphors and in his love of the "cataloguing" song style on display, for instance, in "The Way You Do the Things You Do" and "The Composer." He’s Beatle-like in his inventive playfulness and in the punch of his pop instrumental and harmony hooks. And Like Goffin/King, he knows how to tell a story and build the melodic dynamic of a ballad. His songs are lyrically much richer than Holland-Dozier-Holland product, and better crafted. H-D-H found a hook and pounded it towards posterity. Smokey examined "love" from many different angles (like all good pulp writers – the "angle" was the first destination), and with a certain amount of depth. "Tracks of My Tears" and "Tears of a Clown" are as good as songs get dealing with pain trying to disguise itself. There is real wisdom in the "mama-told-me" devices of "Shop Around;" there are thankful touches of realism in the pleading of "Oooo, Babay Baby" as it points out "you’ve made mistakes, too;" and Smokey’s reading of "Who’s Loving You" skips the humiliation and spitefulness usual to the "loving-someone-else" subject matter, choosing instead to elevate compassion and self-reflection towards ecstatic redemption. His best work deals with loyalty, perseverance, optimism, and perpetual awe at the good things life can offer. The result is a profound humanism that rarely succumbs to sentimentality. This facility put Smokey among that privileged group of writers in the early sixties that included – besides Carole King and Gerry Goffin, Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich, and Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman. A simple explanation like "expression, not reflection" doesn't do the man justice.

Smokey was more elaborate than the other Motown producers: he took time with bridges and digressions; and his tunes escape the claustrophobia of studio arrangements. He gave quality time to the musicians (which is why so much of his recent solo work still seems better than your usual studio-bound r&b). In fact, his records give you the feeling he enjoys his backing musicians; he lets them run on a little and never shuts them down, like other r&b producers often do, with overbearing orchestrations or overly plotted music. These musicians have included the usual Motown session men, but with the important addition of a master of filigree, guitarist Marv Tarplin, whose inspired riffing was the impetus for many great songs (he earned co-writing credits on "Track of My Tears," "Going to a Go-Go," "Gimme What You Want," "Doggone Right," "Wine, Women and Song," and many others). Smokey’s vocal style, though fluctuating in quality, was usually the perfect emotive falsetto, always natural, with an edge that allowed him to push the dynamic, and enough tone to save it from the monotony that can victimize falsetto singing. In 1961, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles created one of the very first classic pop albums of the sixties, Hi, We’re the Miracles. The era isn’t known for a large number of great of long-players; the strongest were usually greatest hit packages by 50’s artists like Elvis, Roy Orbison, or Hank Ballard, or the occasional pinnacle by artists like Ricky Nelson and Ray Charles. What made Hi, We’re the Miracles unique is that ten of the eleven songs were written or co-written by Smokey Robinson – a striking achievement in a business where an album's songwriting talent was usually netted from a large pool of contributors. Hi, We’re the Miracles is imbued with leftover fifties’ doo-wop elements, and a raw instrumental power that isn’t tarnished by what would become Motown’s tendency to over-orchestrate. A solid sense of taste and care would be evident on most of the Miracles’ albums. Going to a Go-Go is a solid effort. And In the Beginning, which collects many of those great early sides, is an embarrassment of riches. 35^th Anniversary Box Set may be overloaded, but not near as overloaded as the huge song list would suggest. It’s a great buy.

Following the prodigious output of Smokey’s early-to-mid-sixties career is problematic give the cross-recordings of songs by other Motown artists and the general confusion of release dates that impedes any attempt at making sense of Motown chronology. But a list of the many reasons why Smokey Robinson was made Vice President of Motown Records, would read something like the following:

1961: The Miracles: Hi. We’re the Miracles includes these great songs: "Who’s Loving You," "Depend On Me," "Heart Like Mine," "Shop Around," "After All," "Way Over There" and "Don’t Leave Me."

1962: The Miracles: "You Really Got a Hold of Me," "That’s the Way I Feel," "Ain’t It Baby," "Determination," "I’ll Try Something New." Mary Wells: "Two Lovers," "You Beat Me to the Punch," "The One Who Really Loves You."

1963: The Miracles: "Mickey’s Monkey," "A Love She Can Count On," "I Gotta Dance to Keep From Crying." The Supremes: "You Heart Belongs to Me," "You Bring Back Memories." Mary Wells: "Your Old Stand-By," "What’s Easy for Two is Hard for One," "As Long as I Know He’s Mine."

1964: The Miracles: "You Can’t Let the Boy (Overpower the Man in You)," "I Like It Like That," "That’s What Love is Made Of." The Supremes: "A Breathtaking Guy." The Marvelettes: "He’s a Good Guy," "You’re My Remedy." The Temptations: "The Way You Do the Things You Do," "My Girl." Mary Wells: "My Guy," "He’s the One I Love."

1965: The Miracles: "Oooo Baby Baby," "The Tracks of My Tears," "My Girl Has Gone," "Choosy Beggar," "Going to a Go-Go," "From Head to Toe," "Since You Won My Heart," "All That’s Good," "A Fork in the Road." The Temptations: "Since I Lost My Baby," "Don’t Look Back." Marvin Gaye: "I’ll be Doggone," "Ain’t That Peculiar." The Marvelettes: "Don’t Mess With Bill."

1966 and 1967: The Miracles: "Save Me," "Oh, Be My Love," "The Love I Saw in You Was Just a Mirage," "More Love," "I Second That Emotion," "The Tears of a Clown," "Swept for You Baby." The Temptations: "Get Ready," "No More Water in the Well." The Marvelettes: "You’re the One for Me," "The Hunter Gets Captured by the Game," "My Baby must Be a Magician," "The Day You Take One, You Have to Take the Other." Martha and the Vandellas: "Keep It Up." Marvin Gaye/Kim Weston: "I Want You Around."

Most of these were hits and most are good songs. That’s over sixty songs. And it’s a short list. When the Beatles debuted their first album in 1963, they had a long way to go to match the accomplishments of Smokey as a sixties pop talent. His writing came with a mature wit that wouldn’t be found in Beatles’ music until the Beatles went from the teenage excitement of "I Want to Hold You Hand" to Lennon’s more personal expressions of aggression and anger on the self-conscious breakthroughs "I’ll Cry Instead" and "No Reply."

To say that Smokey’s talent fell off after he left the Miracles isn’t true. He started slowing down a bit by the ends of the sixties, covering more of other people’s material. But even as an interpreter Smokey is a contender. He slowed down songs like "Yesterday" and "Abraham, Martin and John" and elevated them to a new level. Flying High Together is a great album in a less original mode. In the eighties, the strength of he melodies and the taste of his arrangements were still evident, although a bit of the Miracles’ breeziness was gone. Occasionally you notice that the pulpy angles are a bit strained. Even so, there are times when he can still startle you with his ambitions: "Quiet Storm," "When You Came," "Get Out of Town," "Let Me Be the Clock," "Wine, Women and Song," "Melody Man," "Being With You," "Can’t Fight Love," "Touch the Sky," "Gimme What You Want," "Even Tho," "It’s Time to Stop Shopping Around You," "Don’t Know What It’s Like," "Love Don’t Give No Reason," and "Jasmin" are evident of a master craftsman whose best tunes are generally better than other performer’s best tunes. Warm Thoughts and Touch the Sky are standout solo albums: Ultimate Collection is a fine encapsulation.

The Miracles career with out Smoky Robinson is undistinguished. A footnote though for The Miracles’ City of Angels: It must me heard to be believed. It is a truly strange classic.

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