Has This Ever Actually Happened? (and, if so, why isn’t the music of Motown at the heart of our foreign policy?)

One recent evening, I was channel surfing and stopped on Remember The Titans. If you are unfamiliar, the flick, based on a true story, is set in the first few years of the ’70s and chronicles the integration of a high school and its football team.

It’s not a bad movie, a bit formulaic, but I thought Denzel Washington nailed his role as the coach. He certainly carried himself as coaches for whom I played did.

Of course, it had an excellent soundtrack, drawing on iconic stuff like CCR’s Up Around The Bend, Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit In The Sky, and Marvin Gaye’s I Heard It Through The Grapevine.

(OK, there are more iconic Creedence songs than Up Around The Bend, but is there a more underappreciated great American band than Fogerty and company?)

At one point in the movie, there was a scene were the tension on the football team is diffused when several players broke into song (something by the Temptations, maybe, I don’t recall).

Though I can’t think of something specific, the scene had a sense of déjà vu. I know I’ve seen Motown used to bring the people together onscreen.

And, in the real world, a lot of folks credit the popularity of the music from Berry Gordy’s label in its heyday as helping to bridge racial, social, and generational divides.

But, watching Remember The Titans, I couldn’t help but wonder – has there ever been an actual, documented instance where a group of disparate souls suddenly broke out into song and, through the communal singing of a Motown classic, found common ground?

Because, if it has, we need to take advantage of this phenomenon.

Let’s drop thousands of boom boxes filled with Supremes cassettes into Israel and the Palestinian territories.

Let’s lock all concerned parties discussing Iran’s nuclear program in a room, giving them nothing but food, water, and a stack of Martha Reeves & The Vandellas’ 45s.

Let’s equip the helicopter gunships in Afghanistan with speaker systems like in Apocalypse Now, but, instead of Wagner, we have them blasting Stevie Wonder.

Hell, let’s have every radio station here in the States pump out the hits of The Jackson 5 until everyone realizes that, no matter what differences we might have, everything’s better when there’s a catchy hook and infectious melody.

It’s not such an insane idea when you observe the never-ending squabbling that passes as problem solving these days.

Years ago, I had the good fortune to speak with Jack Ashford, percussionist for the legendary Funk Brothers (pictured above), the Motown house band which performed on most of that label’s hits from 1959 through 1972. He was championing a friend’s band for whom I was writing a bio and they wanted me to include a quote or two from him.

It was brief, but it was probably one of best ways I’ve ever spent half an hour. So, to do my part to help everyone get along, here’s a quartet of Motown classics featuring performances by Ashford and his funk bretheren…

The Four Tops – Reach Out I’ll Be There
from Reach Out

Stevie Wonder – Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours
from Signed, Sealed, and Delivered

Marvin Gaye – What’s Going On
from What’s Going On

The Temptations – Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone
from All Directions

Jake, The Fat Man And Albinos At The Equator

Having gotten to do some traveling (most often on a quite limited budget), I’ve had the opportunity for chance encounters with folks that I wouldn’t have met had I remained on my couch, smoking cigarettes, eating Cheetos, and watching reruns on Nick-At-Night (which is, in actuality, the career path of a former neighbor).

I’ve met Krishnan the Bicycle Thief and almost rented a flat in London from the most renowned wig maker in the United Kingdom.

I met Krishnan while studying at the National University Of Singapore. My friends and I from the States chose to translate “a semester studying abroad” into “a six-month vacation.” Classes were rarely attended and even setting foot on campus was mostly prompted by a desire to spend time poolside.

Campus was a forty-five minute trip requiring two bus transfers (if it had been accessible by train…).

On the occasions where I did make this arduous trek, I’d often notice a pair of fellow passengers. It was difficult not to do so.

They were albinos.

Albinos. In Singapore. Fifty odd miles or so from the equator.

That had to be tough.

I came to realize that they were obviously a couple, holding hands and whispering to one another, gazing at each other with no apparent interest as to whether they were living directly under the sun or on the surface of the moon.

I wondered how they met. Was it some personal ad? Was it a support group for people afflicted with albinism? What were the odds?

They seemed quite happy.

Returning from campus, I’d often end up in the lounge of the old compound that served as our dorm. There, I’d stare at the only television screen on the grounds.

There were two shows that always seemed to be airing – some “game show” featuring a burly, loin-cloth clad fellow tearing the skin from pineapples with his bare hands and Jake And The Fat Man.

I had never watched Jake And The Fat Man, a buddy, detective show, but it was oddly comforting to zone out on something semi-familiar.

There was a cop named Jake. His sidekick/foil was – quite fortuitously – a fat man.

The two would bicker affectionately like an old married couple as they solved some caper in time for a drink together at the bar. Getting soused, one of them would crack a cringe-inducing one-liner to summarize the preceding hour’s antics and the credits would roll.

Indeed, it would seem to be. There is someone for everyone.

Eurythmics – There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)
I had to include this love song as it is positively, ridiculously giddy and can barely contain its optimism.

And, you get Stevie Wonder on harmonica.

U2 – Wild Honey
The other day, I mentioned a Tom Petty song that makes me think of Paloma. If there is a song that best expresses how I feel about her, this one would be on the short list. Happy Valentine’s Day, Paloma.

Mandy Barnett – A Simple I Love You
I don’t listen to a lot of country music and one of the reasons I held on to Mandy Barnett’s debut album when I received a promo was the glowing reviews. We also had an art board in the record store where Paloma and I worked and Barnett bore a slight resemblance to Paloma.

Anyhow, A Simple I Love You is a lovely song with an uncluttered, elegant arrangement. It was produced by the legendary Owen Bradley who had worked with Patsy Cline (to whom Barnett drew comparisons).

Jonatha Brooke – Because I Told You So
In some parallel universe, Brooke probably became a household name during the Lilith Fair years of the mid/late-’90s. Instead, she never really broke through the clutter of acts rushed to radio by labels eager to capitalize on that era’s attention to female artists. It’s really too bad.

Because I Told You So is achingly lovely.

After Five Weeks And Innumerable Hours Rifling Through Bins Of Vinyl…

It’s been five weeks since Paloma and I began buying up vinyl. At the outset, we didn’t even have a turntable, but that situation has been remedied and we have bought over 500 albums. It’s been educational.

I, now, realize that finding a copy of Eye To Eye’s debut wasn’t the rare event which I thought it was on one of our early ventures. It’s understandable now, as beyond the one song I knew – the sophisticated, breezy Nice Girls – the album isn’t particularly memorable.

There also seems to be an extraordinary amount of Dan Fogelberg in the bins. I know his hits; most of which I found to be pleasant and a couple I thought to be very good. A lot of folks whose blogs I read seem to be quite enthusiastic about his earlier work, so I probably should take advantage of their availability.

There’ve been surprises and the triumph of finding something special amidst the innumerable copies of Christopher Cross’ debut (it sold five million albums and I’m beginning to think everyone has sold them). I snagged a Dutch import of Kate Bush’s The Kick Inside on silver vinyl for less than the cost of two gallons of gas.

Paloma found an album with a photograph she had taken on the back.

We’ve managed to accumulate an interesting collection thus far and we’re making fewer finds of things that we need to purchase. We’re being a bit more selective.

Our most recent outing added about thirty more albums to the brood. The one that makes me most psyched is a copy of Stevie Wonder’s Original Musiquarium I. The music is amazing (and water is, of course, wet), but it’s the artwork – colorful fish on a dark, soothing background – that has me momentarily mesmerized. It’s like seeing something in high-definition after having known it most of my life with a cover the size of a CD case.

This vinyl thing has gone well. Now we merely need to somehow become independently wealthy so we can sit around with the time to listen to what must be three-hundred fifty sixty hours of music.

Eye To Eye – Nice Girls
Produced by Gary Katz of Steely Dan fame, Nice Girls from the self-titled debut by the duo Eye To Eye was all over the radio where I grew up in the summer of ’82. The album boasts an impressive array of noted session players like Abe Laboriel, Jeff Porcaro, and Jim Keltner as well as guest appearances by Donald Fagen and Rick Derringer.

Perhaps Nice Girls is just too perfect because the rest of the album suffered in comparison and was a bit of a letdown.

Dan Fogelberg – Same Old Lang Syne
I probably should delve further into this late singer/songwriter’s catalog and acquaint myself with something other than his hits. I’ve always been partial to Same Old Lang Syne, though, as it was a huge hit when I first became seriously interested in music. I can still vividly recall hearing it on the radio on a clear, still, snowy night in the winter of ’82 as I rode home from a basketball game with friends.

Kate Bush – Wuthering Heights
One of the more (if not most) underappreciated British superstars here in the States. Like most of us here, Hounds Of Love and the glorious Running Up That Hill served as my introduction to her unique artistry.

Wuthering Heights was her first UK single, written and recorded when she was merely sixteen. I don’t believe I’d ever heard the original until I snagged the aforementioned copy of The Kick Inside. Personally (and what many hardcore Kate fans would consider blasphemous), I think I prefer this rerecorded version with David Gilmour on guitar.

Stevie Wonder – That Girl
JB at The Hits Just Keep On Comin’ acknowledges that all roads seem to lead to 1976 for him. 1982 is my 1976. One of four new songs for his double LP compilation Original Musiquarium I, That Girl was a fixture on radio in the late winter/early spring of ’82. It was, essentially, my introduction to Stevie. Of course, I was familiar with his earlier hits, but That Girl was his current hit as I realized my interest in music.