Tiggerlion on Where Did Our Love To by The Supremes released 31st August 1964
Florence Ballard, Mary Wilson and Diane Ross were all brought up in Detroit’s Brewster-Douglass Housing Projects. Ballard and Wilson met at Northeastern High School. Ross went to Cass Technical High with the intention of becoming a fashion designer. Even as a youngster, Flo had a powerful, expressive voice and boundless enthusiasm. With her best friend, Mary, she formed a girl group called The Primettes to complement The Primes, a group containing two future Temptations. In turn, Mary, forever in the role of go-between, recruited her neighbour, Diane, to contribute some poise. As teenagers they auditioned for Berry Gordy, chief of Tamla Motown. He told them to come back after they’d graduated. In the meantime, they regularly visited the Hitsville U.S.A. studio, sometimes making themselves useful but mostly making their presence felt. Eventually, they were allowed to provide handclaps and, more excitingly, backing vocals to some records. Finally, in 1961, Berry was persuaded to sign them on condition they changed their name. The girls selected The Supremes from a short list of six.
The first half dozen singles got nowhere. Gordy wrote and produced most of them. Smokey Robinson had a go. They tried a Clarence Paul song. The girls worked hard. They gigged extensively, honing their stagecraft. The legendary Maxine Powell styled their look and their presentation: high fashion gowns, glamorous wigs and an elegant demeanour. Cholly Atkins taught them choreography to match their graceful femininity. Most of all, they had a deeply ingrained chemistry. They were and continued to be close friends who experienced the trials and tribulations of their formative years together. As a result, their harmonies were soul-stirring and tight, as though they shared the same thoughts. These three young, black women from poor backgrounds became fit to perform before kings and queens under the brightest lights, lights that expose every flaw. It was the American Dream made flesh. If only they weren’t The No-Hits Supremes.
Salvation came in the form of a couple of brothers, Brian and Eddie Holland, whose own careers as singers had stalled. When they got together at Tamla Motown with Lamont Dozier, another journeyman singer going nowhere, a kind of alchemy occurred. The songs they wrote became sharper and more catchy, their productions focussed and purposeful. At first, they seemed to gel with Martha and The Vandellas with Come And Get These Memories and Heatwave, but the magic really started to happen with The Supremes. When The Lovelight Starts Shining In His Eyes is a blatant imitation of Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound. “Pistol” Allen’s drum sound is huge, James Jamerson’s bassline a powerhouse, the horn section, anchored by a baritone saxophone, is fierce and the handclaps are infectious. In the verses, Diane’s lead vocal is almost overwhelmed, as she is emotionally by the realisation that someone loves her. Her friends high pitched gospel “Ooo-ooo”s just about prevent her from swooning. The Four Tops and Holland-Dozier-Holland (HDH) themselves lend a hand. It’s raw and rough at the edges, it could be a Martha and The Vandellas record but it made the top forty and secured the Supremes/HDH partnership. Run, Run, Run was rush released as a follow up in an attempt to keep The Supremes in the chart. It repeats the Wall Of Sound style, this time organ-led, but poppier. Diane’s vocal finds its place in the mix rather better, Flo and Mary sigh with rapt attention and the gentlemen live up to the background descriptor for their contribution. Nevertheless, it’s still busy and loud. It was less of a success, merely skirting the Billboard Top 100, and there were fears that the gains made with Lovelight could be lost.
HDH struck upon the right formula almost by accident. Bear in mind Hitsville U.S.A. was designed as a factory. Mass appeal was the goal. Berry Gordy set up Tamla Motown not to make black music but to produce music for everybody. Only chart position mattered. Where Did Our Love Go was written for The Marvelettes, more specifically, Gladys Horton, but they rejected it. They felt it was too corny. The Supremes were unhappy about being offered a castoff, a situation that confirmed their lowly position in the Motown heirarchy. Besides, the song is written in a low key for Horton’s voice. Only Mary seemed to fit, yet Diane was the designated lead singer. Flo, the undoubted leader of The Primettes had, surreptitiously, been demoted in favour of Diane by Gordy. He claimed that she had a voice that was more Pop and, therefore, more likely to cross over to a white audience, but the real reason was that he was infatuated with her. In the vocal booth, she complained, she groaned, she shed tears, she got angry as Holland and Dozier made her sing the song again and again, outside her comfort zone. She flew out of the studio, distraught, to persuade Gordy to intervene. However, he could only hear cash registers ringing. The beat is a slower, more dignified pace, perhaps with a hint of New Orleans Iko Iko, the sax smoulders and the piano is almost funky. Diane is the sexiest she has ever been on record. She is mournful and sensuous, a fully-rounded adult coming to terms with her loss, speaking a personal truth. Whatever the machinations inside and outside the control booth, the three Supremes presented a unified, harmonic front when the microphones were on. The backing vocals and footstomps are simply perfect, effectively The Supremes’ signature sound. Many have tried to replicate them and failed. Where Did Our Love Go was The Supremes and Holland, Dozier, Holland’s first number one.
Gordy, himself, compiled the album. There are twelve tracks. The more danceable songs are on side one and the softer, more romantic ones on side two. Lovelight, Run Run Run and their B sides are included. Almost all the songs tap into Diane’s skinny girl insecurities. The boy leaves her because his love has died or it was never there in the first place. She spends the LP devastated, heartbroken and alone, cooing plaintively like a lost chick, yet she retains an inner strength, a coolness in the face of adversity, bolstered by her two friends standing at her shoulder. Lovelight is the only truly positive. You could argue that the longing in He Means The World To Me has a kernel of hope but Diane is in her lonely room. Smokey’s A Breathtaking Guy is a cheeky shimmy. Ross extolls her guy’s qualities after spending the night with him but frets that she has just been used for a one night stand. The breathtaking guy in question is, of course, Berry Gordy himself. The excited flush of a first kiss on Run, Run, Run is tempered by her friends’ dire warnings about the boy’s character. Similarly, Your Kiss Of Fire is all-consuming but, for some obscure reason, the boy has left and Diane has to resort to pleading for him to come back. She still manages to retain her dignity, sounding as though she is reaching a logical conclusion as opposed to desperately offering herself up on a plate. Standing At The Crossroads Of Love suggests at least half of it might be life affirming. However, the choice turns out to be between being treated badly and being bereft. The rejection and abandonment in the rest of the songs are unremitting. Just the titles of Long Gone Lover and I’m Giving You Your Freedom spell things out. The songs are sung from the heart and music is played with great skill. The lyrics are obsessively concerned with the exquisite agony of romantic infatuation, the heartbreak, misery, rejection and loss, but, at least, the music concentrates on the ecstacy. If not for the Funk Brothers, the bright Pop production and the girls’ doughty backing vocals, Where Did Our Love Go would be as introspective and tortured as Frank Sinatra Sings For Only The Lonely. Instead, it’s ideally suited for a party where you can dance and throw your head back, open the throat and bellow-a-long to some great choruses.
HDH and The Supremes had struck gold. It was a sound that crossed over its appeal both from black to white and teen to adult. It’s a mature kind of Pop Music whose first crush has turned sour, yet is delivered with a sprinkling of soothing sugar. Diane’s voice is perfect with its sorrowful tone, reflective and measured, graceful under pressure. Flo singing these songs would be rich and soulful but probably too intense. With the album at number two just behind The Beatles, they followed up the triumph of the title track with another single from the more danceable side one. HDH were never too proud to repeat an idea if it works. Baby Love has the same rhythm as Where Did Our Love Go, similar ‘baby baby’ backing vocals and Diane again singing in a lower register. Berry wasn’t happy and made them record it again. They simplified the saxophone and adjusted the foot stomping so that it is easily mistaken for handclaps. Mike Terry’s baritone sax solo was given more prominence. Crucially, Diane added a sultry ‘Oooooooh oooooooh’ at the start. How could any man resist her call for him to come back? The answer was no-one as it became a second American number one. Baby Love was also a true global hit, one of only two number ones in the UK by an American act between 1963 and 1965. For many, it’s their most memorable song.
The third number one in a row from the album was Come See About Me, propelled by an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show that had almost as much impact as The Beatles’. At a time of widespread racial fear and bigotry, The Supremes were the first Black act in the star slot. In 1964, the Whisky A Go Go opened, Cassius Clay became world champion and promptly changed to Muhammad Ali, Malcolm X left The Nation Of Islam, Sidney Poitier won the Oscar for best male lead, students demonstrated for the first time against the Vietnam war, the Mississippi Burning murders were carried out by the Klu Klux Klan, Lyndon Johnson signed The Civil Rights Act banning racial segregation, there were race riots in Harlem and Philadelphia, Martin Luther King Jr was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, The Berkeley Free Speech Movement was formed and Sam Cooke was shot and killed in Los Angeles. The Supremes on the Ed Sullivan Show is regarded as an equally significant historical event. They were the girl group of the civil rights movement. Once more, Diane is purring for attention from a man and Mike Valvano works his wizardry with his footstomps, making them sting far more than any amount of handclaps. Earl Van Dyke adds classy piano to blend with Jack Ashford’s vibraphone. The sexual undertone is difficult to miss. It vied with I Feel Fine at Christmas.
The album cover is an example of how tricky it is to capture a group photo. The girls are beautifully coiffured, their hair bountiful and glossy, wearing tasteful lime green dresses to match the block capital font. They are set against a chocolate background, arranged in an ‘L’ shape to accommodate the text in the right and centre. Steps of some kind must have been deployed. They are all gazing at a point to the photographers right. Flo is at the top, looking glum. Diane is at the bottom, forcing a grin that comes across as a scowl. Only Mary, in the middle, looks content, with a half smile that appears E to be genuine. There is a good reason most cover shots feature the band with moody, smile-free expressions. Film was a precious commodity back then. There would not be hundreds of shots taken at one sitting. Each photograph needed to be developed to judge its quality, which couldn’t be carried out during the shoot itself. It was far easier to keep the facial expressions neutral.
In the UK, it was Beatles versus Stones but, worldwide, The Supremes were the main competition, more than rewarding Berry Gordy’s perseverance. In the sixties, they enjoyed twelve Billboard number ones, Where Did Our Love Go being the first in a run of five. They outsold everybody. Diane Ross became Diana and continues to luxuriate in superstar status to this day, having been Billboard’s female entertainer of the 20th century. Florence Ballard was sacked from the group in 1967 for unreliability and spent years as a destitute alcoholic, dying tragically at the age of thirty-two. Mary Wilson was somewhere in between, making a solid living out of singing and keeping The Supremes flame alive until her death aged seventy-six. Her two very well written autobiographies were best sellers.
The final song, Ask Any Girl, concludes the album on a sober note and points to the future. Yet again, Diane is abandoned by her man but this time she is supported by more than her two closest friends and the band.The Supremes are defiant, steadfast in their camaraderie but represented by a string section, there is a multitude of women on Diane’s side. This song, and the LP as a whole, recruits a massive audience to The Supremes cause, opening a dialogue that would continue for decades. Where Did Our Love Go, the album, firmly established Tamla Motown as a major label, Holland-Dozier-Holland as its finest songwriting and production partnership and The Supremes as its premier act. Berry Gordy’s fingerprints are all over it. He didn’t write any of the songs, nor was directly involved in its production but his method, his Hitsville system, is responsible for the result. His genius was to marry the urban Black experience with White, middle class aspiration. Pleasingly, for him and Tamla Motown, it didn’t just yield hit singles. The Where Did Our Love Go album proves that young, vibrant Pop Music wisely put together and well sequenced is sustainable over the full twelve inches of vinyl and could be a commercial viability. Not only did The Supremes fulfil his target of large sales, the team built around them had the talent to produce music of the highest quality that has endured for decades. These are not frivolous songs to be forgotten after a brief surge of popularity. They continue to connect emotionally with listeners all over the world more than half a century later.
Where Did Our Love Go is a landmark LP for Pop Music, Black American music in particular, and for women generally. Girl groups were no longer limited to seven inch singles. There are those who think that it isn’t proper Black Music, somehow inferior to or less authentic than Blues, Gospel, Soul or Jazz, but that’s a kind of snobbery, the same kind of snobbery that values Rock above Pop. There is no reason a black teenage girl can’t enjoy Pop music as much as a white one and The Supremes managed to tap into the huge well of yearning, desire and insecurity that forms the core of a young girl’s heart, obsessed as it is with boys and the fear of rejection. Some sneer at the girls because they didn’t write any songs themselves but the songwriting and production exploited their talent and are exemplars in their field, as worthy of being described as artistic as any other kind of music. Most great music is the result of complex collaborations between multiple people. You may think the men wielded all the power but the three women contributed the charisma, the magic, the relatability. The clear message of this album, at a time of overt racism and misogyny, is that these young women are just as important as any of the men. Diana, in particular, outshone all of them, transcending Motown itself.
All music needs an audience and The Supremes quickly became icons, sex symbols and true international stars. They brought together people of all races and creeds across the globe, representing their heritage with pride. Destiny’s Child, TLC, The Pointer Sisters, Sister Sledge, Whitney Houston, Oprah Winfrey, Janet Jackson, Bananarama and The Spice Girls are among those inspired. Where Did Our Love Go should be discussed with the same awe as A Hard Days Night. Its influence and its power is timeless, just as strong as it was in 1964. If you play it at a party today, it is guaranteed to fill your floor with toddlers to pensioners and all ages in between. In the final analysis, Where Did Our Love Go is the sound of three young friends, Flo, Mary and Diane, loving life, revelling in each other’s company and living in the moment, totally oblivious to the fact they were breaking new ground in the history of Pop Music, leading the way for many to follow and making the world a better place.
Tiggerlion says
Full album
Leffe Gin says
Many, many thanks for writing this. Soul music LPs don’t get enough love. Many of them are as great as anything done by white boys with guitars. Some (like this one) are right up there with the best.
Tiggerlion says
Damn right! I try to highlight LPs I consider deserve more praise. There’ll be more Soul albums to come.
Cookieboy says
Years ago I read an interview with one of Holland, Dozier or Holland and he was talking about working with the Supremes back in the days when the couldn’t buy a hit. When they recorded Where Did Our Love Go Diana apparently walked up to the man in question and threw the sheet music in his face and screamed at him, “You’re always giving us the shit!” A few months later when the song was number one he saw her at the airport. He stood back expecting congratulations or a thank you or something and she swept past him as though he wasn’t there.
Tiggerlion says
She’s a natural born diva!
Jaygee says
Diana?
Surely you mean “Miss Ross”
Twang says
Fab essay Tig, and as you usually do I want to listen to it right now. The Supremes were constantly on the radio when I was a kid and I knew many of those songs by heart. My mum and I would sing them in the kitchen.
Tiggerlion says
They were an essential part of my childhood soundtrack. Sixty years, eh? Who would have thought.
dai says
I don’t know this album. One of the first albums I ever bought was The Big Wheels of Motown (brilliant) compilation, had a few Supremes tracks, and I much preferred Stoned Love and I’m Going to Make you Love me to the rather weedy Where did our love go (or indeed Baby Love). Just my taste
Tiggerlion says
Most acts developed their sound through the sixties. The difference between 1964 and 1970, when Stoned Love was made, is marked. By then, The Supremes were Jean Terrell, Mary Wilson and Cindy Birdsong. Diana had moved on.
deramdaze says
I’ve spent the whole summer pretty much only listening to soul LPs, especially those released in 68 and 69, all because of ‘Summer of Soul’, the most influential film (for me, at least) I’ve ever seen. It is also the best film I’ve ever seen.
Earlier albums, like the one rightly championed here, on Alexa at least, can sound not quite right somehow (too airy, not punchy enough, stereo rather than mono?), and so, for the time being, my go-to – and I go to it a lot – Supremes’ record is Love Child from 68.
The Impressions, The Temptations (effortlessly the most successful act on the U.S. R&B LP chart), Marvin Gaye, The Impressions, The Meters (their first two LPs, both 69, not released in the UK, are mesmerizing), Archie Bell & the Drells etc. have all been a real eye-opener.
This subject of ‘filler’ fascinates me. For a start, anything described as such on a Beatles, Beach Boys or Doors LP, I always like. I recently purchased a copy of Blonde on Blonde (50p) and there was loads of filler on it. It was too long, I couldn’t wait to get back to the Impressions and Marvin.
In ‘Summer of Soul’ the audience ranges from babes in arms to those in their eighties really digging the Gospel groups. Presumably, though they probably liked Cold Sweat, these elders would have been more accepting of James Brown’s regular mining of the middle-of-the-road (like Nature Boy) than a scribe on the NME. Maybe, ‘filler’ was to reach out to the whole audience? Like Yellow Submarine or When I’m Sixty Four. Something, of course, indie darlings don’t have to do.
My favourite Marvin song – Tear It On Down – is sequenced on In The Groove (68) between two A-sides, before the whole thing gets silly with I Heard It Through the Grapevine, and so is virtually the definition of ‘filler’! If that’s filler, I’ll have it.
Actually, on a 12-track LP, say, once you take out the six or so sides from singles (As and Bs – all songs I want to know about because these are the ones you would have heard on either the radio or a jukebox in the 60s), a few covers (Marvin’s ‘Yesterday’, not a great proposition on paper, is wonderful), you’re often left with different versions of Tamla hits for other acts.
Rather than ‘filler’, this is the legacy of all the acts going off on their own to perfect the new Holland-Dozier-Holland composition, before Berry Gordy played them all on a car radio assembled in his office, and then determined which one went out as a single. I’ve yet to hear a different version I haven’t liked. Who was to know when Loving You Is Sweeter Than Ever and I Heard It Through The Grapevine were recorded, that it would be the latter which would be Marvin’s calling card. It could just as easily been the former!
These soul LPs – together with their Beach Boys and Beatles’ counterparts – are the best LPs of all time.
10-12 tracks – great sleeves – beautiful people, clothes, hair – clock in at 30 minutes. In Out, In Out, Shake It All About.
Leffe Gin says
Sometimes I wonder what you’re talking about, but this time, I’m with you all the way. You have good taste in this stuff, I reckon. I mean you can put on a compilation of any 60s soul, pretty much, and enjoy all of it.
My favourite soul LP is The Soul of a Bell by William Bell. I like the ‘banged out in a day’ feel of it, the perfect imperfections I suppose.
I also agree about filler, whatever it is, if it’s a song on a good LP then it belongs there. I think?
Tiggerlion says
I agree with all of this.
At this time, artists recorded a bunch of tunes, then they were distributed onto singles and LPs accordingly. Often, they felt a track would be a smash and release it as a single and, later, on the LP as well. With The Beatles is an exception, an LP of just album tracks. The Temptations and The Miracles made excellent albums before this Supremes one topped them.
Berry Gordy had a keen eye for the market. He exploited the success of Heat Wave in 1963 by getting HDH to record Martha And The Vandellas singing covers of songs popular at the time. It’s patchy. However, its follow up, Dance Party, is a perfectly realised LP, one of the best ever on Motown. Side One consists of six tracks, three instantly familiar smash hit singles and their B sides, but the album isn’t unbalanced. Side Two holds its own. I find myself listening to the less well known side more often.
There is a lot of joy to be found on LPs during the era when they were thirty-odd minute collections of songs.
deramdaze says
My current port of call are the exceedingly charismatic selection of LPs Atlantic put out before they lumped on Rawwwkkk! c. 69.
They all have beautiful blue-green labels (MUCH nicer than the plum label) and have a generic rear sleeve design with a kind of Art Deco effect. Some people you’ve heard of, many you haven’t. Listening to ‘Plug Me In’ by Eddie Harris (July 68) right now.
I think to myself:
“What LP is the really hip kid who winks at the camera in Summer of Soul going to be listening to that evening?”
“What LP is the beautiful female ogling the Pips going to be listening to that evening?”
“What LP is another really hip kid, the one who is (rightly) negative about the Moon Landing, going to be listening to that evening?”
… and then I try to find it.
Lodestone of Wrongness says
Where Did Our Love Go, too manufactured (soulless even) for my ears. The Soul Of A Bell on the other hand is simply fabulous!!
Tiggerlion says
I am careful to label it as Pop Music, which is commonly “manufactured”. Gordy deliberately incorporated the methodology of Detroit’s car industry. He unashamedly appealed to the masses. However, the singers, musicians, producers and writers brought with them their experience of singing in church and of living in the grittier areas of the city. There is an edge to the poppiest of Motown Pop that a lot of Pop Music lacks.
Lodestone of Wrongness says
It’s all personal taste, innit? Why not review The Four Tops “Reach Out”? Some of the greatest pop tunes ever recorded alongside ill-advised covers that sound as though they might have gone down well at my parent’s wedding in 1864.
I never understood the misheard and mistaken “Don’t catch me carrying you back home” but sung it out loud anyway as I danced through the night at the Holborn Bar Disco high on Purple Hearts and the thought of walking Annie Chalmers up the road. Who needs Detroit when it’s raining in Aberdeen?
deramdaze says
Talking of 60th anniversaries, on 28th August 1964 Tom Jones’ first single came out.
It’s a very curious release for Tom Jones – it’s seriously good! – and it could genuinely be considered the best of a host of newcomers’ debut discs that year.
Lulu, Sandie Shaw, John Mayall, Them, The Yardbirds, The High Numbers (Who), The Kinks, and The Zombies all debuted in 64, and it’s probably only the last of those acts, with She’s Not There, who could have been said to have bettered Chills & Fever with their first 45, although some may rate Shout by Lulu. I don’t particularly.
Decca got behind it – not enough for a U.S. release – and I believe he was on Ready, Steady Go!, but, despite it sounding a hit all over, it flopped. Crowded marketplace, of course, the most crowded ever.
Tom Jones, eh? What a strange 60 years. I only own the Thunderball 45, the Thunderball and What’s New Pussycat? soundtracks on CD, and one or two songs which dribbled out on those Decca Scene compilations. I couldn’t name you an LP of his, and I live in 1967!
The sole Jones’ record I covet is Chills & Fever, it’s about the only one with any real fiscal value, and I suggest it is effortlessly better than anything the guy has ever recorded!
Six months later – a lifetime in the 60s, and a clear indication of how his next move was being pored over at Decca HQ – came the much more m-o-r of It’s Not Unusual, and he was never discussed in the same sentence as The Beatles or The Rolling Stones ever again.
However, it did mean he had a long career.
Tiggerlion says
He’s eighty-four and still going strong. A colleague saw him the other week, performing at a car park in Bootle. Someone threw knickers at him. He talked about his life. Only his wife got more mentions than Elvis.
The man definitely had the golden voice. Just listen to this:
NigelT says
Motown albums have never impressed me, perhaps more particularly the early ones. I have some late 60s/early 70s ones by the likes of Marvin and Stevie which are classics, but that was after Motown changed.
Lots of great singles of course, but they have always been compilation fodder to me. I have several double CD single act comps of the likes of the Supremes, the Tops, Tempts etc., but there is just so much filler to my ears. The great comps are the Motown Chartbusters ones – everyone had the silver Vol. 3.
Leffe Gin says
Chills and Fever is fantastic, here’s a live clip of him & the band, giving it their all:
Leffe Gin says
The drummer there is Chris Slade, I think- who played in AC/DC later. That’s probably evidence of societal collapse right there, Deram.
deramdaze says
Not societal collapse, just crap clothes and crap hair in a significantly more dour era.
You can have it!
Crucially, with that excellent clip the best bit of the 45 is missing, the female backing vocals.
Sniffity says
“Chills And Fever” was a hit in Australia.
deramdaze says
Was it a hit in Oz? How big?
According to the indispensable 45cat website, it was only released in Canada, Australia and the U.K.
According to the less indispensable wikipedia, it was not a hit in Canada.
Furthermore, in line with the more softened image prepared for Mr. Jones, the song – clearly his best – did not appear on his debut LP, and doesn’t seem to have reappeared on any release I can find.
Has it ever come out on CD?
deramdaze says
Blimey! After not giving TJ a second thought in over forty years, I’ve gone Thomas-crazy.
I’m even tempted to fling me Y-fronts at the screen. Oh, just done it.
It seems that Chills and Fever DID get a U.S. release in late 65 on the back, no doubt, of two Top 10 U.S. hits and the latest James Bond theme.
Here’s the catch… it was an earlier version, produced in 63 by none other than Joe Meek, and was made as Tommy Scott & the Senators, reaching no. 125 on Billboard.
It’s a nice enough song, though far more in keeping with his later safe image, and a pale imitation of the Decca recording, making, I reckon, that 64 version the greatest outlier in any artist’s back catalogue.
Like finding out that the Beatles had released a Bach concerto in 61.