Green Machine
Black and white united in their enthusiasm for the olive/magenta label from Philly. By Jim Irvin.
TO MAKE headway in the predominantly white music business of Philadelphia – having been effectively excluded from outlets like the Cameo-Parkway label (home of The Twist and other dancecraze smashes) – Kenny Gamble & Leon Huff had to create their own business, setting up labels Neptune and Gamble, finding studio Sigma Sound and its brilliant engineer Joe Tarsia, and hiring a team of gifted arrangers, Thom Bell, Bobby Martin, Lenny Pakula, plus musicians who could cut hits with efficient regularity. It took years to perfect – they’d struggled partly because they weren’t natural businessmen, simply wanting to write and record music – but suddenly fell into place when, in 1968, they mined gold on Gamble with the sixth single by their first signings, The Intruders’ Cowboys To Girls, going Number 1 R&B and Number 6 Pop on Billboard’s charts.
That swung the industry’s spotlight their way. Atlantic hired Gamble & Huff to produce Archie Bell and Dusty Springfield, and Columbia/CBS, anxious to get into the crossover R&B market, brought them Laura Nyro and, eventually, in 1971, offered to bankroll Philadelphia International Records, with an emphasis on creating cohesive (and lucrative) albums and putting the might of Columbia’s distribution network behind them.
Since the label’s 50th anniversary, Snapper have been releasing a series of desirable box sets under the catch-all The Sound Of Philadelphia, each containing remastered CDs of eight of the first 24 PIR albums, in chronological order, plus a 12-inch vinyl single related to each set, and a large format book containing the full sleeve art and notes on all the albums. They’re now up to Volume 3, Love Is The Message ★★★ (PIR), taking us into 1975. The downside of this self-compiling remit is that these eight LPs coincide with a comparatively hit-free run and include a couple of complete outliers: Monk Montgomery’s Reality, in which Wes’s bass-playing brother takes centre stage, one for fans of bass solos over luscious strings and brass, while Thad Jones & Mel Lewis’s Potpourri is a fairly workaday big-band jazz LP.
The Ebonys’ self-titled album is very cool, though. The beautiful It’s Forever, also a single, is a fine example of the Philly recipe. It’s achingly slow with an explosive orchestral arrangement and dense harmonies sounding like they’ve been recorded in church. If Motown tracks felt like a house party, PIR’s records might span an entire street in an upscale neighbourhood, painting pictures of opulence and aspiration.
Behind all that lay house orchestra MFSB (standing for Mother Father Sister Brother or Motherfucking Son-of-a Bitch, depending on who you asked), whose second LP of smoothly grooving instrumentals Love Is The
Message (TSOP in the UK) is a stand-out in this selection. The O Jays’ Survival, though an R&B chart-topper, hasn’t endured like their brilliant preceding LPs Ship Ahoy and Back
Stabbers, skewing a little dry and worthy. Likewise, Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes’ To
Be True is full of plush, comparatively hookless material, though single Bad Luck still tickles the feet. Perhaps the intense work rate – many PIR acts cut two LPs a year – was starting to impact on quality. But on Got My Head On
Straight, Billy Paul’s July, July, July, July demonstrates how a slight song can be turned into something remarkable by the label’s luxur y brand of arrangement.
The eccentric Bunny Sigler – who drove a pink Cadillac with customised rabbit-shaped windows
– was a PIR staffer who cut some forgotten but intriguing records. His
“Monk Montgomery’s Reality is one for fans of bass solos over luscious strings and brass.”