The Yin and Yang of R&B

Music critic Nelson George has famously described Motown as "the yin of Soul beside Stax's yang" -- and it's an apt choice of phrase. The English Wikipedia describes yin and yang as "complementary opposites that interact within a greater whole, as part of a dynamic system," and that certainly encapsulates the R&B landscape of the 1960's and early 1970's. Motown, the "yin" or more passive element, targeted its singles to the Pop charts; impresario Barry Gordy exercised close control over every aspect of the process: auditioning potential acts, naming them, choosing their image and wardrobe, and carefully producing their recordings for maximum cross-over appeal. A special A&R committee at Motown, headed by Gordy, vetted the final mix of every studio session, and often vetoed the preferences of the artists themselves. Some of these artists, such as Mabel John, left Motown for Stax, declaring that Motown was just a "pop" label, and that they really wanted to be on a "soul" label -- and so off to Memphis they went.

Stax Volt, thanks to its unique distribution arrangement with Atlantic Records, could afford to aim their singles in both directions; if some jumped to the top of the Race/R&B charts, that was good for business, and if some did well on the Pop charts, that was good too. Oddly, although for its classic period it was owned by a white couple, it was perceived as more of a "black" label. But in fact, it was as multiracial as its in-house band, Booker T and the MG's, which featured Booker T. Washington Jones on the drums and the legendary Steve Cropper on lead guitar. Stax also had an excellent relationship with Memphis's WDIA -- Rufus Thomas and his daughter Carla were among their first stars -- and could count on airplay on what was, during this period, the largest black-marketed radio station in the country.

There were numerous other players, of course, any one of whom could, for a moment at least, leap to the front of the pack: Cincinnati's King Records (James Brown), Philadelphia International Records, New York's All Platinum (parent of the later Sugar Hill label), Los Angeles's Specialty Records (Little Richard), and numerous other smaller players. As I've written, these small labels served as "prosthetic taste buds" for the majors, who generally couldn't be bothered to learn much about black artists, and didn't have people in their A&R departments that understood black listeners and fans. But they couldn't argue with success, either.

Nearly all of these labels underwent upheaval in the later 1970's; the mergers in the majors, which conglomerated Time, Warner, Elektra, Atlantic, and Asylum under one large "WEA" roof, Columbia/Epic/CBS as Columbia (later Sony Music Group), and RCA/Bertelsmann as BMG (since merged with Sony), spelled doom for the minors. The new superlabels scorned their former partners, figuring they could do as good or a better job marketing such music -- but they couldn't. Many notable artists, among them Isaac Hayes and James Brown, ended up recording albums that were either never properly marketed, or never released at all, though one -- Hayes's Hot Buttered Soul -- would slip through the cracks and become an instant classic. It was thus to be the most minor of the minors -- whose business was never huge to begin with -- that survived into the Hip-hop era, along with smaller start-ups: Sugar Hill, Winley, and Tommy Boy led the pack. And then, of course, when Hip-hop turned out to be much more than a fad, the cycle began anew: wash, rinse, repeat.