In the days before computerized information flow, most Detroit performers’ awareness of any interest in their musical output from the 1960s or 1970s, anywhere in the world, was almost non-existent. Most had given up the dream of stardom or notoriety, and had selected alternative forms of employment. To be suddenly informed by a white man with a funny accent decades later, that a song, or songs, they had recorded in their teens or early twenties and completely forgotten about, were now popular with people from a different culture, several thousand miles away, for many, was a totally confusing revelation. The conversation was almost always the same. “You say my record is a hit in the UK?”

“No, but it is popular on a certain scene over there.”

“No, because not many people have got it. It’s not available and difficult to find. Lots of people want it though, and will pay large amounts of money to buy it.”

“So, if it’s that popular, it must be a hit right?”

“No…” and so it continues until a stalemate of confusion dissolves into mutual misunderstanding. Over the years many of these same entertainers have actually visited Britain, or countries in mainland Europe, to perform, without ever really understanding the nether world of rare soul appreciation that they have entered. Many find it almost incomprehensible that people would want them to perform songs that didn’t achieve any significant sales figures or popular appeal at the time of release. By insisting on this practice however, the few truly informed and inspired promoters in UK, who have any sense or understanding, ensure that real devotees get what they want, and that we are all spared the inevitable and inferior versions of ‘Stand by me’, ‘Up on the roof ‘, ‘A change is gonna come’ and the like, which would be the artist’s choice.

First impressions of people, in any walk of life, can be the most revealing and long lasting. I have been fortunate enough to meet many of the individuals I most admire in Detroit, and have rarely been disappointed with the conversations and confessions, on both sides, that resulted, particularly when we first met. Only recently, I was fortunate enough to spend an afternoon with Belita Woods, and can’t remember meeting anyone who not only talked as much, but made me laugh so often and for so long. The fact that her e mail address is ‘Belitablabs’ gives a clue to her persona She recounted singing ‘Swing Low Sweet Chariot’ on Martha Jean’s ‘Blues Night’ talent/radio show at Cappy’s Lounge with Earl Van Dyke’s band at the tender age of 15, and being invited back the following week. She subsequently won the $25 prize for the next two weeks and was signed up by Ollie McLaughlin for his Moira label. “Everyone called me ‘Little ‘Retha’ around that time ‘cause I sounded so much like her. He (Ollie) put me with Pete Varney, who came up with this real weird song (‘My magic corner’). We cut it at Terra Shirma in’67 with Mike Terry on keyboards, Eddie Willis, Babbit and Uriel Jones as I recall, but I didn’t think it would do much. I was pregnant at the time. I gave birth four days later. I got some other songs from Billy Kennedy too. ‘That’s when I’ll stop loving you’ was one I really liked and ‘Grounded’ - that was good too.”  Between tales of love trysts with Mike Terry (who was dating Rhetta Hughes at the time) and her eventual collusion with George Clinton and the Funkadelic gang, she spilled the beans on the Brainstorm situation. “The group was first put together in 1972. We did our first album in ’73. There were 11 members and three vocalists, but I sang on most of the records. I wrote ‘Lovin’ is really my game’ ‘cause I couldn’t dance that well, and the others would tease me a bit. I think it was the biggest hit we had.” When the group split up in the mid 1970s she became one of the vocalists in Funkadelic and all other manifestations of Clinton’s funk factory, but continued to record her own songs. “I did a couple of things for Epic records in the 70s plus I cut things on myself and some duets.” She gave me a promo cd of her accumulated unreleased material called ‘The Voice’ which she hopes will be released at some stage in the future. “ I got it to Holland, Dozier and Holland ‘cause they know me, so we’ll see what happens.” Hope so – it is superb. She was supposed to perform at a weekender in UK in 2006, but lost faith in the promoter when he reneged on a financial commitment and went on the road with Clinton instead. “ The guy was supposed to send me an advance on my fee that we had agreed, but he didn’t do it, and I’ve been in this business a long time, so it kinda freaked me and made me not trust him. Then George called so that made things a lot easier. I’ve been over there with George’s shows so I know what it’s like.”

An ex Motown artist at odds with another of our less salubrious compatriots was Bobby Taylor, who I met in Vancouver when we both lived there in the early 1990s. He was playing at a club in the city with the ‘New Vancouvers’ and I ventured backstage to try to meet him. I asked one of his band members to arrange an introduction, which he did, but my request was greeted with an astonishing response. “If that is xxxxx I’ll f**king kill him” came booming from the other side of the dressing room door, before I reassured him that I bore no resemblance, in form or philosophy, to the man. “ He never paid us what he said he would. It was all promises and bullshit with that guy.” The resentment Bobby Taylor felt toward him was echoed by almost everyone else I encountered in Detroit who had worked with him. Frances Nero bitterly revealed that she had never received any royalties from her UK hit ‘Footsteps following me’ and others concurred. In 1995 a veteran record producer told me that this persons life would be in danger if he ever returned to Detroit, such was the strength of feeling against him. The true depth of the betrayal and deceit felt by the numerous artists who believed that their careers were about to be revived, was best expressed by another local veteran musician and songwriter Rudy Robinson, who said “ The worst thing he did to the people here was to give them hope, when he knew there was none.” Unforgivable. Bobby Taylor and I subsequently became good friends though, and I visited his home in North Vancouver many times. Although he is probably best known for the Motown segment of his career, I was more interested in the period prior to that era. “ I moved to Vancouver in the mid 1960s from California and set up a band with a few other guys called ‘Four Niggers and a Chink’. It was the same guys who would become The Vancouvers and included Tommy Chong. You can probably guess which one he was! He later became half of the comedy duo ‘Cheech and Chong’ and they were very successful. We got a real kick out of that name and used to laugh so hard when we saw it up on the awnings of clubs. We had quite a following for a while, but we couldn’t use that name forever. We had Jimi Hendrix in our band for a while too. He was from Seattle which is quite close to Vancouver, but we fired him pretty quickly because his solos went on for so long … and he played his guitar so loud no one could hear the rest of the band.” Around the time that ‘Does your mama know about me’ became a big pop hit for the newly named Bobby Taylor and The Vancouvers at Motown he auditioned for the vacant lead singer position with The Temptations prior to David Ruffin’s departure. “They said I was too short and that I had flat feet, whatever that had to do with anything.” Taylor moved back to California when Motown re located there and produced the first Jackson 5 album. “Yeah, I brought them to Berry Gordy first, but later they put out that bullshit story about how Diana Ross had discovered them, but they put me with them first ‘cause I knew them better.” The parting from Motown was acrimonious and ended up in the courts.” I won my suit against them but I still haven’t got my money.” After an unreleased album’s worth of songs on the Motown subsidiary Mowest and one solitary single release, he recorded for Sunflower and Playboy Records, before hooking up with Thom Bell in Philadelphia to produce himself on ‘I can’t quit your love’ for Tommy Records, and an instrumental version credited to ‘BT and TB’ for Philadelphia International Records. And we haven’t heard the last of him. Long liveBT.

One of the most obscure, and, as it turned out, illusive Motown artists, was Tommy Good. Little was known about him except that he was one of the first, and relatively few, white artists to record for the Gordy label and that he had one solitary release - ‘Baby I miss you’ c/w ‘Leaving here’ in 1964. During a chance conversation with a Detroit record shop owner in 2005, it transpired that he still lived in Michigan, but over 250 miles north of Detroit. My first telephone conversation with him revealed an articulate, cultured and extremely modest man who seemed genuinely surprised, and somewhat humbled, that anyone would be interested in his singing career all those years ago. His memories of the Motown days were lucid, enthusiastic and revealing. “Clarence Paul introduced me to Berry Gordy after he saw me singing with my group, The Tabs, at the Duchess Theatre in Detroit. I came down to the studio and they got me working straight away. I joined two other guys and we were stomping on these plywood boards for ‘Where did our love go’. I saw and heard a lot of Motown records being recorded. I did hand claps, played tambourine or sang backing on many sessions. I thought the musicians and the three girl singers, Andantes were amazing – they were a pleasure to work with. Berry told all the ‘in house’ writers to write songs for me – people like Mickey Stevenson (who wrote ‘Baby I miss you’), Ivy Hunter, Smokey Robinson, Staunton and Walker. The only people who wouldn’t were Holland, Dozier and Holland. I don’t know why. Yet they used my version of ‘Leaving here’ which was one of their songs, on the ‘B’ side of my record.” I asked him about his version of Ivy Hunter’s epic ‘Ask the lonely’ but received a surprising response. “That’s not me. It sounds a bit like me but it isn’t me! They put a cd out of all my unreleased material and credited it to me. I don’t know who it is.” Another potentially thorny issue concerned the ‘demonstration’ at Hitsville in the summer of 1964, when supposedly irate fans laid siege to the building in protest at the lack of Tommy Good records being released by the company. “That was all a big publicity stunt hatched by Berry Gordy and Motown’s Art Director Bernie Yessan. Berry organised some buses to pick up local high school kids and bring them to the studio. He got someone to call the press. The Detroit Free Press put a photo and a feature on the front page. It was all done to promote ‘Baby I miss you’.” He had no regrets at the limited opportunities available for him at Motown and relished the experiences his time there gave him. “ I got the chance to work at one of the most famous and successful companies in the world, and feel privileged to have met some wonderful people. Smokey and Stevie Wonder were the best. Mickey Stevenson and Ivy Hunter were great too. I had some great times.”

Rob Moss June 2008