Smokey Robinson at the House of Blues, Oct. 11
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When Smokey Robinson and the Miracles' single 'Shop Around' hit in 1960 it was more than just the start of a remarkable careerit was the establishment of an institution. 'Shop Around' was the song that built Motown ( it was the struggling label's first major hit ) and kicked into overdrive a hit factory that not only redefined soul but crashed the color line.
Berry Gordy may have been the executive Svengali behind it, but S.R., as writer/producer/performer was one of Motown's three creative architects ( the other two; Norman Whitfield and the team of Holland-Dozier-Holland ) . Seeing S.R. live 43 years after that first hit was a bit of a mind twister not for nostalgic reasons, but because his craft is so unmistakably pure that it makes current pop and ( especially ) neo-soul sound like dross.
First there's the music. Called 'America's leading poet' by none other than Bob Dylan, S.R.'s love songs are built on lyrical contradictions ( 'I've got sunshine on a cloudy day...,' 'I'm a choosy beggar ...' ) and sophisticated production. Working with most of Motown's great talents, he consistently produced one classic after another ( 'My Girl,' 'Get Ready' for the Temptations, 'Don't Mess with Bill' for the Marvelettes, 'My Guy' for Mary Wells, 'Whose Loving You' for the Jackson 5 ) while keeping his own group, the Miracles in the top 10 ( 'I Second that Emotion,' 'Tears of a Clown,' 'Save Me' ) . Performers who have covered his songs outside of Motown are a varied bunch: Linda Ronstadt, the Rolling Stones, Kim Carnes, Elvis Costello, and Grace Jones. Nobody on the planet has that track record.
Second there's the voice. S.R. is probably the most brilliantly underrated vocalist ever ( maybe Al Green comes close ) , and no one has his range. Singing mostly in a honeyed falsetto, he seems incapable of sounding shrill ( like Eddie Kendricks or Prince ) , with enough warmth to be sensual without sexuality, coy without seduction.
You can pick your favorite song but mine is 1981's 'Cruising.' Armed with an irresistibly relaxed melody, the song doesn't play, it wafts. Orchestrated like schmaltz, S.R.'s vocal is mixed in front, pirouetting with immaculate precision all over the melody, and yanking the song into soul territory. You can call it make-out music, but the only record that comes remotely close is Roxy Music's Avalon ... maybe.
Now 63 and looking shockingly robust, his HOB gig revealed him to be the emperor of Motown soul. Fronting a full band with a string section ( courtesy of the CSO ) , the show was both an intoxicating romantic siesta and a sing-a-long jamboree. He could have left the saucy female dancers out, primarily because they knocked the show's high romantic vibe into Vegas cheese ( as a female fan loudly cracked, 'Don't bring out those girls ... I wanna see some men, sheeeit!' ) , but why quibble? S.R.'s show may have been programmed to please, but it did so without condescension. Opening the show with 'Being With You' and adorned in a peach three-piece with a ruffled shirt, S.R. kept topping himself.
There were too many highlights to include here ... but my God. 'Ooh Baby Baby,' delivered at a crawl with heartbreaking pauses and tear-stained regret was quietly, tragically stunning. S.R.'s tribute to Cole Porter, 'Night and Day,' was fragile and worthy of its source. The '50s-era doo-wop 'Bad Girl' benefitted from S.R. not only doing the lead, but also the steps and back-up vocals of the Miracles. There was a whole section dedicated to songs that he wrote but didn't sing ( 'My Girl,' 'The Way You Do the Things You Do' ) that resulted in a protracted joyous sing-a-long. 'Cruising' turned up at the finish, drawn out but entirely satisfying.
That many in the crowd were around when S.R. first started recording ( 'Bad Girl' was a request ) points out just how timely and classy he really is. After all this time, hearing not only his voice ( in pristine condition by the way ) but those classic songs is a reminder of just how powerful popular music can be.
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Smokey Robinson. Photo by Hester