Review: Jackie Wilson - A Woman, A Lover, A Friend (1960)
Tracks: 1) A Woman, A Lover, A Friend; 2) Your One And Only Love; 3) You Cried; 4) The River; 5) When You Add Religion To Love; 6) One Kiss; 7) Night; 8) (You Were Made For) All My Love; 9) Am I The Man; 10) Behind The Smile Is A Tear; 11) We Kissed; 12) (So Many) Cute Little Girls.
REVIEW
On the whole, 1960 must have been the most auspicious year in Jackie Wilson’s career: the hits just kept coming, both on the R&B and the general charts, and with more and more national exposure, such as an appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, the man seemed well-poised to become the #1 African-American entertainer in the country. Unfortunately, most of that success came at the expense of further and further shifting his identity to that of a suave crooner rather than a suave interpreter of the R&B vibe — and his second LP from 1960, released at the tail end of that year, is a prime example of the shift.
A large chunk of A Woman, A Lover, A Friend is dedicated to cleaning up shop: the title track, backed with ‘(You Were Made For) All My Love’, was released as a single in July 1960, and ‘Night’ came out even earlier, in March — actually, let us start with that one. Although formally credited to Herb Miller and Johnny Lehmann, ‘Night’ was really a re-arrangement (with new lyrics) of what was known in the States as ‘Softly Awakes My Heart’, the English translation of ‘Mon Cœur S’ouvre A Ta Voix’, Delilah’s aria from Camille Saint-Saëns’ Samson And Delilah — which, amusingly, led to some unhappy incidents like, for instance, Australian radio stations banning the song from airplay due to a general restriction on pop tunes adapted from classical compositions (ah, those were the days!). US radio stations were nowhere near as picky, and ‘Night’ ultimately became Jackie’s biggest ever success on the general Billboard charts (although, not too surprisingly, it did not manage to reach #1 on the R&B ones).
Technically, ‘Night’ is quite a tour-de-force both for the singer and for Dick Jacobs’ orchestra — which he engages in a series of monumental (for this kind of music) crescendos, going for Epic Emotional Swell with two capital E’s. And it has to be admitted that, even if Jackie does not have a trained opera singer’s voice, the power and impeccable sustained vibrato of that final high note are exceptional for a pop singer in 1960 — even something like Elvis’ ‘Surrender’ feels a little feeble in comparison. But just like Elvis, or any other gifted pop singer going for an operatic vibe, the end result is ambiguous; people who love their classical music in corny «Three Tenors» mode will probably swoon all over it — while those who think that opera should be opera, and soul should be soul, and hybridizing them usually results in sterility, will probably remain indifferent. Actually, let’s turn that the other way around, for accuracy’s sake: as a rule, I remain emotionally indifferent (at best) to this kind of material, which has always made me seriously doubt that adapting opera for the purposes of pop music could ever be a winning technique. (Even Andrew Lloyd Webber began to suck when he started doing that on a regular basis, and what’s to be said of lesser mortals?)
The doo-woppy title track (which, conversely, did hit #1 on the R&B charts, but stalled at #15 on the general ones), written by Sid Wyche of Elvis’ ‘A Big Hunk O’ Love’ fame, is a much more comfortable affair, even if the song is hardly a great feat of songwriting — but, unlike ‘Night’, it features Jackie in a more approachable and understandable mode. The song is built on the same old bluesy chord sequence as ‘Come On In My Kitchen’ and ‘Sitting On Top Of The World’, but «upgraded» to the soul-blues department, meaning that Jackie is neither asking for a quickie here nor trying to act cool and tough in a blue-balled situation, but putting the right emphasis on the word "friend" instead. He does need a woman, he does need a lover, but most importantly, he needs a friend — even if the lyrics occasionally insinuate that, apparently, friendship comes on a commercial barter basis ("there must be somewhere around / that’s looking for someone to give pound for pound" — where exactly is he searching? around a butchers’ market?).
Even with all the strings and choral backing vocals, a song like ‘A Woman, A Lover, A Friend’ works, because its melody, vocal delivery, and arrangement are more or less adequately matched in power, feeling, and ambition; ‘Night’ — for me at least — does not work because its ambitious goal remains out of its actual reach. The same principle applies to every other soulful / sentimental ballad on the album. ‘Your One And Only Love’ is an overblown piece of sentimental pop trash. ‘The River’, returning to doo-wop with echoes of gospel, is a much better proposition. The Guy Lombardo-ish ‘When You Add Religion To Love’ (oh boy, what a title!) is a Vegasy nightmare. ‘Behind The Smile Is A Tear’ is mildly touching, except it is essentially the same song as ‘A Woman, A Lover, A Friend’. And so on.
For all that weeping willow balladry, though, I’m still aching for at least something more upbeat, and, fortunately, there is still a small selection to satisfy the fans of Jackie Wilson’s dance moves. ‘You Cried’ is a sympathetic bit of twisting where Jackie uses the title of the song to get a little Isley Brothers vibe going between himself and the backing singers. ‘One Kiss’ is a half-decent pop-rocker with good use of the stop-and-start structure and, for once, a decent electric guitar melody following Jackie’s lead rather than the perennial strings. ‘Am I The Man’, credited to Bob Hamilton and Tom King, is interesting in that its verse melody largely predicts Sam Cooke’s much more popular and familiar ‘Shake!’ from several years later — although, frankly, I suspect that this was hardly the first time this melody was featured, either. And Jackie’s own ‘(So Many) Cute Little Girls’, finishing the album off on a particularly lightweight note, is a welcome throwback to the good old days of ‘Reet Petite’ and ‘It’s So Fine’, even if it lacks the attraction of those tunes’ specific vocal gimmicks.
Speaking of vocal gimmicks, it should be added that there are practically none on the record — while Jackie continues to make good use of his vocal range and «serious» singing techniques, there is not a single sign of «Jackie Wilson, the Vocal Hooligan» on the entire record. He does not hiccup, he does not roll his r’s, he does not emphasize the quiet-to-loud dynamics, and on those few songs where he actually attempts to stun the audience he does it in a «mature» way, like that final note on ‘Night’. Certainly, you cannot blame a man for deciding to erase all the signs of «clown behavior» from his artistry if he feels that continuing to use them will cheapen his image. The problem is, I am not exactly sure what it was that cheapened Wilson’s image more — singing "RRRRRRRRReet petite!" or trying to go all Enrico Caruso on his audience. My personal vote certainly goes for the latter.
Only Solitaire reviews: Jackie Wilson