Teddy, Teddy, Teddy

In the land of rhythm & blues, if Smokey Robinson was the master of romance, Marvin Gaye the king of eroticism and Barry White the maestro of sensuality then Teddy Pendergrass was the sultan of straight-up, sweaty, satin-sheet sex. (This is the man who over the course of a triptych of sensational sultry slow jams - "Come Go With Me," "Close The Door" and "Turn Out The Lights") proposed breaking out the candles, some boiling oils and, if that wasn't enough, promised to reach into his bag of tricks and pull out 'a little bit more.' He also asked his prospective partner at the end of "Close" to let him 'do do do do.' Insert easy joke here.) As terrific as those tunes were, they only give a hint of Pendergrass' greatness and influence. (About the latter, all I can say is when Teddy decided to sport a cowboy hat and shearing jacket on the rear cover of his 1978 LP "Life Is A Song Worth Singing," a week after it came out I spotted brothers of all shapes, sizes and shades wearing western garb all over El Barrio and Harlem.) As a singer, Pendergrass was simply superb. His authoritative, supple baritone first came to prominence in the early Seventies as the lead singer of Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes on Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff's Philadelphia International. (Got all that? Good because there's gonna be a test later.) In Pendergrass, songwriters/producers Gamble & Huff found - with the possible exception of the O'Jays' Eddie Levert - the perfect voice for their compositions. And what songs they were! From uptempo jams like "The Love I Lost," "Don't Leave Me This Way," and - best of all - "Bad Luck" to ballads like "If You Don't Know Me By Now" to message music like "Wake Up Everybody," Pendergrass' powerful voice and percussive phrasing - he was a former drummer - transformed these tunes into classics. In 1977, after leaving Melvin and the Blue Notes allegedly due to dissension and jealousy within the group, he found instant solo success with a terrific eponymous LP featuring "I Don't Love You Anymore" and "The More I Get, The More I Want." (The rumored rift between Melvin, the nominal leader of the group, and Pendergrass, the true voice of the Blue Notes brought an added edge to the three-way duets between them and Sharon Paige: "Hope That We Can Be Together Soon" and "You Know How To Make Me Feel So Good.") By that time, he'd been transformed into a bonafide sex symbol replete with special concerts designated 'for ladies only.' (Just listen to his live double CD "Teddy Live Coast-to-Coast" to hear the unbridled passion and unleashed excitement of these shows. Talk about aural sex.) But the hoopla served to obscure Pendergrass' brilliance. He was a great singer and songs like "Is It Still Good To Ya," "Love T.K.O.," "It's Time For Love", and especially "My Latest, Greatest Inspiration" with his falsetto coda proved it. (Not to forget to mention two excellent duets with the diminutive Stephanie Mills: "Two Hearts" and "Feel The Fire" which featured Mills' unforgettable moan of 'Teddy. Teddy, Teddy.') Then, tragically, in 1982, Pendergrass was paralyzed in an auto accident. After a lengthy recuperation period, he left Gamble & Huff for Elektra Records. There he made some fine LPs and although he lacked the booming power of his halcyon days, he still had enough sex appeal left in the vocal tank to show them youngsters how to do it. (That alone was reason enough to be chosen by director Alan Rudolph as the musical voice of seduction on his great film "Choose Me.")Then musical tastes changed and Pendergrass slowly faded out of the picture. (It's one of the continuing shames of America that far too many times an artist of color must to die before his/her professional output is even partially appreciated or taken seriously.) Let us then use his passing to celebrate his brilliance. Plan an intimate rendezvous with a special someone, break out the bubbly, light the incense and the scented candles, lay out the rose petals and the oils, dim the lights and put the man they called Teddy Bear on the stereo and let nature take its course. (In other words, do do do do.) It's a just tribute to a terrific - and terrifically underrated - artist.

The Best Music of 2009

A confession. I’m not the biggest fan of year-end top ten lists. Let’s face it, some years – like this one – you can’t come up with ten albums you absolutely love. Also, it’s not like I’ve heard every album released during the year. Although I am Rich in name, spirit and friends, I am not in terms of bank accounts. As such, I tend to restrict my lists to the music I’ve purchased or have been given by a generous pal or kind publicist. In addition, I like to live with an album for a while. See, in many ways listening to an album is like dating. There are the ones you dislike instantly and never see or hear from again. There are the ones that you think you love at first but, three encounters later, you realize everything that can be said has been said and all that follows now is boredom. Then there are the ones with nuance which reveal different pleasures with each listen. The following six albums - presented from number 6 to number 1- meet the preceding requirements and are, so far, the keepers.

“The Fall” by Norah Jones. Like another overnight sensation, Alanis Morrissette, the critical chatter of Jones’ work since her meteoric debut has been more about declining CD sales rather than artistic growth. That’s a shame because also like Morrissette, Jones’ music has deepened with each successive album. Centering on a relationship’s demise, “The Fall” is her best yet. Think of this as her Millie Jackson album with Jones convincingly singing with an angry, brokenhearted weariness. Whoever this guy Jones is warbling about must be feeling mighty low now. Seems like he drove her out of Brooklyn – as on the album’s best cut “Back To Manhattan” – and straight into the studio for one terrific finger-wagging record.

“King Of Latin Soul” by Joe Bataan. This is a totally sentimental pick. Among my treasured earliest memories as an infant are of sitting on my late much-beloved grandmother’s living room sofa while my uncles and aunts danced to the latest boogaloo 45’s. Backed by the fine Spanish group Los Fulanos, Bataan recreates that signature sound and ably reproduces the sonic excitement as well.

“Stronger With Each Tear” by Mary J. Blige. In which the greatest soul singer of the last 25 years proves why she’s deserving of such a title. Even when the material isn’t up to her ever-improving vocal powers, Blige’s commitment to truth in the grooves elevates it. And when the songs are worthy of her - as the last three “Kitchen,” “In The Morning” and “I Can See In Color” are – the results are as miraculous as she is.

“Memoirs Of An Imperfect Angel” by Mariah Carey. In which the most underrated diva of the last 25 years continues her winning streak. Since her “Vision Of Love” debut, Carey has consistently put out one entertaining album after another. Forget the pampered image and drunken award acceptance speeches and just listen to that glorious voice. It’s no wonder she’s directly influenced a generation - for good and bad – of hitmakers from Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears to Jordin Sparks. It’s that powerful and expressive. And when she’s pissed off as on the Eminem diss “Obsessed,” well, let’s just say there’s no other pop singer that can hit high C with a snarl.

“Together Through Life” by Bob Dylan. Dylan hasn’t sounded this fresh, funky and, yes, funny in ages. The highpoint? His evil chuckle at the end of “My Wife’s Hometown.” (Which just happens to be Hell.)

“BLACKSummers’ Night” by Maxwell. Not only is this the best album of the year, this is the best soul man album since Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You.” With this sultry R&B work with jazz underpinnings, the previously-underrated Maxwell enters the musical pantheon. The first thought after hearing the superb album opener “Bad Habits” is that he has never sung with such unadulterated passion. The realization a few months and dozens of listens later is that few male singers ever have. What makes the album great is that he dares to start at such a high emotional peak and then maintains it for the next 8 tracks. A masterwork.

Honorable mentions: “Cantora” by Mercedes Sosa: a worthy coda to a glorious career. “MPL Sound” by Prince: the Purple One’s best dance disc since “The Black Album.” “Music For Men” by Gossip: an exciting effort which almost equaled the hype. “Let’s Do it Again” by Leela James: finally, Shanachie releases a covers album that nearly matches the originals.

Song of the year: “Empire State Of Mind” by Jay-Z & Alicia Keys.
In which Hova proclaims himself to be the new Sinatra and bolsters his case by providing the Big Apple – and, later, the Yankees – with the best anthem it’s had since Ol’ Blue Eyes hijacked “New York, New York” from Liza Minnelli. The funniest thing about it is as much as I love it, now that I’ve heard Alicia Keys’ quieter take on it on her “The Element Of Freedom" album, I prefer her version. Where Jay-Z swaggers through the streets of New York, Keys provides a slower, sensitive tour through the city that never sleeps. It’s the difference between traveling by limo and a gypsy cab. One’s about being sleek and styling while the other’s about necessity and negotiation. Yes, they both get you to your destination but only the latter’s going to give the grit and bumps of the city. While Jay-Z gives you the panoramic view; Keys not only zooms in on the faces on the corners but also their souls. Great stuff either way.