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Also this issue: Paradise Found Sirk-ular Logic Screen Picks |
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November 14-20, 2002
movies
 The shadow knows: Joe Messina, Johnny Griffith, Joe Hunter, Bob Babbitt and Richard Allen get a taste of the spotlight. |
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The musicians who backed up Motown's greatest are no longer Standing in the Shadows.
James Jamerson. Joe Hunter. Jack Ashford. Eddie Willis. Benny Benjamin. Earl Van Dyke. Johnny Griffith. Uriel Jones. Joe Messina. Richard Allen. Robert White. Eddie Brown. Bob Babbitt. Unless you’re a serious soul music scholar, chances are you’ve never heard the names before. But without them, you might never have heard of Diana Ross, Martha Reeves, Gladys Knight, Marvin Gaye or Stevie Wonder, not to mention The Four Tops, the The Spinners or The Temptations. If a craftsman is only as good as his tools, a singer is only as good as his band, and the above formed the nexus of the Funk Brothers, the unofficial conglomeration of Detroit musicians who provided the backing on just about every song from Motown’s classic era, from “Heat Wave” to “My Girl” to “What’s Goin’ On.” At the time, the musicians, in keeping with common practice, were frequently uncredited (though Marvin Gaye insisted on full credits for the What’s Goin’ On album), and they’ve largely remained, as the title of Paul Justman’s documentary would have it, Standing in the Shadows of Motown. Inspired by Allan Slutsky’s book of the same name, which focused on the life (and death) of legendary bassist James Jamerson, Motown throws a spotlight on the Funk Brothers, mixing interviews with newly performed versions of Motown favorites.
To promote the movie, various subgroups of the surviving Funk Brothers have been making the rounds of film festivals, sometimes augmenting the question-and-answer with a post-film performance, and soaking up the glory that's been too long coming (including a stop at the Prince last Monday.) They're not all in the best of health. Drummer Richard "Pistol" Allen passed away shortly before the film's Toronto premiere, and keyboardist Johnny Griffith died Sunday morning, two days after the Funk Brothers played Harlem's Apollo Theater. And Slutsky, who's become a de facto manager and bandleader for the group, confesses that songs that were once easy for the jazz-trained musicians to play are significantly less so nowadays. "This is hard music for them," Slutsky says, indicating Willis, Ashford, Babbitt and Jones, who all made the trip to Austin. "But back then it was effortless. Every other label, they were populated by R&B musicians. You listen to 'My Guy,' do you hear how that shit swings? Only serious jazz musicians can swing like that."
Slutsky, a Philadelphia native who recalls playing the Highline Lounge and the Cadillac Club in mixed-race bands as a teenager and still plays as a session musician in the city, worked for more than a decade to get the film off the ground, spurred on in part by the memory of the late Robert White. With Willis, White played the guitar line on "My Girl," which Slutsky rightly calls "one of the top five most recognizable riffs of all time." But Slutsky remembers eating with White at a theme restaurant when the song came over the stereo, and White being too demoralized to tell the waitress it was his riff. "I knew we had to get this done while the rest of these guys were still around," Slutsky says.
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Ironically, the Funk Brothers themselves were slow to recognize their own achievements. Drawn from Detroit's thriving jazz scene, they regarded the pop sides they were cutting as a paycheck, little more. "You have to sit there and play the same thing eight times," says Germantown native Ashford, best known for his tambourine and vibraphone parts. "What's [the producer] looking for? This is what I played six takes ago." It took effort for them to play along with the simplicity of Motown's songs. "One thing people don't know about the Funk Brothers was we had a lot of self-discipline," says drummer Jones. "A lot of musicians, they play... all over the place. You got that feeling you want to do it, [too], but you know it's not gonna work."
But Babbitt, the Pittsburgh native who stepped in on bass as Jamerson's alcoholism became a worsening problem, says it was still possible to feel creatively fulfilled, even playing beneath their capabilities. "Some people say that if a jazz musician is going to play rock 'n' roll, then they're going to sell their soul for the financial part of it, but I don't think that was the case here. The music that everybody was playing, they brought it in, and that eventually became [Motown's] style. They created that style because they had the ability to play beyond the rock 'n' roll mentality." The money didn't hurt either, Ashford confesses. "When I got to Detroit, the guys that play jazz were walking around with their heels run [down], and the guys over at Motown were walking around in silk suits. I could tell the difference between that. Simple -- go with the guys with the shiny suits."
For all that, though, the musicians still felt creatively stifled at times, especially when it came to venturing beyond their chosen instruments. As Jones puts it, "If you came in there weaving baskets, you could've been a brain surgeon at night, but you were a basket-weaver at Motown." As a result, the musicians never had a chance to break out on their own, as Booker T and the MGs did. "[Stax] didn't put a lid on them like [Motown] did us," Jones says. "I don't like to sound like bragging, but their sound wasn't as unique as ours."
"A lot of [Motown] guys got disillusioned about the fact that they maybe had the capabilities of producing or writing," Babbitt adds. "[Motown] would let them go and record, either as an artist or a producer, but they never released anything on you. It was like they pacified you because they wanted you for their sessions."
At least in public, though, there's no bad blood between the Funk Brothers and Motown, not least because, Slutsky said, they got "a sweet deal" licensing the songs for performance in the movie and on the accompanying soundtrack. It's not clear what the future holds, but it's clear at least some of the Funk Brothers would like to follow the Buena Vista Social Club or Calle 54 model and reap some well-deserved rewards on the road. But for the moment, they're just enjoying their first real taste of fame. "Who knows?" Ashford says slyly. "This time next year, you may not be able to talk to me."
Standing in the Shadows of Motown opens Friday at Ritz Bourse. See Sam Adams’ review on p. 32.
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