A Love So Fine

Saw “20 Feet From Stardom” yesterday, which was notable for two reasons: 1) it was the first grown-up movie I have seen in about 11 years in a theater, and 2) it was outstanding, hitting all the right notes on the challenges and triumphs of those who so often stand and sing from the shadows. I especially liked the background on Merry Clayton’s “Gimme Shelter” performance with the Rolling Stones, which stands as one of the greatest records and performances ever. And any Darlene Love is welcome. I was fortunate enough to see her do one of her annual Christmas appearances on the Letterman Show in the late 90s – what a powerhouse.

Love’s appearance has also reminded me of the brilliance of the best Spector records. He called them “little symphonies for the kids,” and while not every one went off the charts artistically, the best are monuments to the beauty and potential of pop music. “Da Doo Run Run,” “River Deep, Mountain High,” “Be My Baby,” “Black Pearl'" "A Fine Fine Boy" (below).

I am including the original as well as a 2009 version because I am amazed how the E St. Band was able to approximate the Wall of Sound. So close, in fact, I wonder if there was some studio trickery involved? Perhaps it is more an indication of how Phil Spector laid the foundation for the that classic E St. sound: the dense instrumentation, the horns, and the glockenspiel. Not to mention the passion.

And I still marvel at the vibrancy, the joy and the youthfulness in this music. Like Motown, this was also the Sound of Young America.

Whatever the Sound of Young America is today, I’m fairly certain it's not this brilliant.

We’re gonna get to that place where we really want to go

Say what you want about Phil Spector.

Crazed lunatic. Freak. Gun-wielding murderer.

All true.

But the man could make great records. We all know about the Wall of Sound classics:

"Be My Baby"
"Da Doo Ron Ron"
"River Deep – Mountain High"
"You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’"

All essential.

But here’s one that was a minor hit but is not as well remembered. But I will argue that it is the equal to all those above. And maybe even greater.

Sonny Charles and the Checkmates’ "Black Pearl," from 1969, is an ode to a woman from his sweetheart, at least on the surface. But it also stands as a spectacular anthem of black pride.

Obviously, due to racism and a lack of opportunities, a lot of black women were still seen then as being only qualified to be housekeepers and cooks and not capable of professional careers.

And Charles knows that while his woman is nothing special to look at (“You’ll never win a beauty show no they won’t pick you, but you’re Miss America, and I love you”), he also knows she is capable of so much more that her current lot in life.

Charles' impassioned vocal rises and falls with emotion, and Spector throws swelling strings around a drop-dead gorgeous melody.

"Black Pearl" is three minutes and 23 seconds of nearly-unrivaled beauty, and especially moving placed in the context of its time.

They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.