Barbara Lewis: The Many Grooves Of Barbara Lewis

BARBARA LEWIS: THE MANY GROOVES OF BARBARA LEWIS (1970)

1) Baby, That's A No-No; 2) Windmills Of Your Mind; 3) Slip Away; 4) How Can I Tell; 5) Break Away; 6) Oh, Be My Love; 7) Just The Way You Are Today; 8) Anyway; 9) But You Know I Love You; 10) You Made Me A Woman; 11) The Stars; 12) Do I Deserve It Baby.

Before fading out completely, Barbara Lewis got one last chance at parading her muse with this record, released on the Enterprise label — a subsidiary of Stax, founded largely to accommodate the early production of Isaac Hayes, even though Barbara was never much of a Hayes protege (at least, I am not aware of any of his songs that she'd covered). Once again, for some reason, the emphasis is on the «groove» side of Lewis, an artist whose smooth balladry had always been as far removed from «grooving» as possible — but if you understand «groovy» in the sense of "life, I love you, all is groovy", then you just might have something there.

The record continues well in the vein of its predecessor: pure ballads aside, there's quite a few rhythmic tracks with some energy and «bottom» to them, enough to compete at least formally with classic Motown material, if never in terms of catchiness or originality — not surprisingly, since, once again, most of the writers here are professional pop (and sometimes blues) experts, in touch with formulas but largely out of touch with the spirit. Once again, despite the label change, Lewis gets no chance at advancing her own songwriting techniques — and, who knows, perhaps she simply did not care by this time.

A few of the songs seem to want to feature a refreshed, revitalized Barbara Lewis singing in a deeper, more powerful voice — ʽBaby, That's A No-Noʼ opens the album on precisely this note, and Morris Dollison's ʽBreak Awayʼ (alas, nothing to do with the classic Beach Boys song of the same name) is a relative highlight in the same vein, although the former song has Barbara stan­ding her ground against The Guy, while ʽBreak Awayʼ has her standing her ground against her­self, because she can't break away from The Guy. Funky, soulful, lightly tragic, well framed by ghostly backing vocals, this is, I guess, every bit as good as any contemporary Diana Ross song, but there's a problem — Barbara Lewis as a strong-tempered character just does not come across as perfectly convincing; you can still tell that suave, sentimental numbers like ʽOh Be My Loveʼ and ʽAnywayʼ represent her natural turf. Therefore, on one hand, it is a relief to see a record that has more funky guitar, well-syncopated bass, and toe-tappy rhythms than all of Barbara's pre­vious career put together — on the other hand, it is sad to see how unfit she is, in general, for feeling at home with this music.

It works fairly well as a finale to a mediocre, but inoffensive and mildly charming career: after this record, nothing whatsoever would be heard from Barbara in the music world, apart from an occasional nostalgic emergence (as of the 2010s, she can still be seen performing). Nevertheless, despite the mediocrity, there is still a certain small market for albums like these — clean, taste­ful, thoroughly derivative, but full of tiny individual nuances that will not go unnoticed by serious fans of «soft R'n'B» — and while most of the world will probably only remember Barbara Lewis for ʽHello Strangerʼ and ʽBaby I'm Yoursʼ, a tiny smidgen of the world still might want to remem­ber her for her many grooves, and there'd be nothing wrong with that.

Barbara Lewis: Workin' On A Groovy Thing

BARBARA LEWIS: WORKIN' ON A GROOVY THING (1968)

1) I'll Keep Believin'; 2) Workin' On A Groovy Thing; 3) Make Me Your Baby; 4) Girls Need Loving Care; 5) I Remember The Feeling; 6) Baby What Do You Want Me To Do; 7) Make Me Belong To You; 8) Love Makes The World Go Round; 9) I'll Make Him Love Me; 10) Only All The Time; 11) Sho-Nuff (It's Got To Be Your Love); 12) Thankful For What I Got.

Well, one thing is for sure: Barbara's last LP for Atlantic sounds like a mix of industrial avant­garde and grindcore metal... next to It's Magic, that is. At the very least, they had the sense to tone down some of the sugary sweetness and give her a wee bit more of an R'n'B groove and a merry pop swing. They even allowed her to include one of her own songs at the end of the album (ʽThankfulʼ) — a nice gesture, considering that she'd been precluded from that since 1963; given that her own songwriting talents have always been comparable to those of the songwriters she had to cover, this discrimination was really uncomfortable.

That said, the record is still anything but great. Essentially, it is assembled from various singles stretching all the way back to 1965; the earliest inclusion is Helen Miller's ʽMake Me Your Babyʼ (already discussed in the previous review), and the next one, from 1966, is Billy Vera's ʽMake Me Belong To Youʼ, originally recorded by Helen Shapiro — as usual, Barbara's fragile and delicate voice puts the emphasis on vulnerability and pleading, where Shapiro's version was more of a power strike. ʽBaby What Do You Want Me To Doʼ is not the Jimmy Reed song, but a lush folk-pop tune written by Grant Higgins and featuring nothing but atmosphere (Barbara's voice, strings, and a quiet brass section should be enough for perfection, right?). Probably the catchiest number is the upbeat, jokey ʽOnly All The Timeʼ, with an unusually carnivalesque arrangement for Barbara, including ukulele, honky tonk piano, and trombone; and probably the best number is ʽSho-Nuffʼ, because it finally adds some real «bottom» to the music, with a strong bassline and an authentic R'n'B feel (unfortunately, one that also calls for a more powerful singer).

Anyway, the good news is that we are not emulating Doris Day any more; the bad news is that all of this is still quite formulaic, and the songs are almost never memorable. It remains unclear if we should thank Atlantic for loyally protecting Barbara throughout all that decade, or if we should accuse them of underplaying her talents, saddling her with inferior material, and not letting her develop as an original songwriter — regardless, the fact is that they finally let her go after this record, which, honestly, sounded about as «modern» even by the contemporary standards of mainstream R&B in 1968 as would a blues record by, say, Alberta Hunter. Surprisingly, though, the story does not end then and there, as there was one last chapter to it.

Barbara Lewis: It's Magic

BARBARA LEWIS: IT'S MAGIC (1966)

1) It's Magic; 2) The Shadow Of Your Smile; 3) Let It Be Me; 4) Quiet Nights; 5) Since I Fell For You; 6) Don't Forget About Me; 7) I Only Miss Him When I Think Of Him; 8) Yesterday; 9) He's So Bad; 10) A Taste Of Honey; 11) Sorrow; 12) Who Can I Turn To.

You gotta love those old style liner notes — "Each cut weaves a different spell, and one is made heady with the potion that is the liquid voice of Barbara Lewis — here curving around a note, wavering just a hairbreadth, there full and round one moment, trailing off the next, now breathy, now misty, now pleading, now desiring, now sad, now exciting, but all musical", writes New York-based disc jockey Enoch Gregory, alias "The Dixie Drifter", in his desperate bid to help Atlantic sell a few more copies of Barbara Lewis' fourth (third?) LP. But even that kind of sweet-talking did not help — fact is, in mid-1966 pop and R&B audiences were not nearly as entranced about curving around notes and misty-pleading-desiring vocals, certainly not if they were so totally old-fashioned in style as Barbara's singing is on this album.

For It's Magic, the label commands Barbara Lewis to morph into Doris Day — starting with the title track — and then turn everything into Doris Day, whether it be Antonio Carlos Jobim, Carole King, or the Beatles in the beginning. She's not too bad as Doris Day, but compared to these sugar-sweet arrangements and performances, even Doris Day comes across as Madonna — so completely purged they are of any humor, irony, sexiness, and, well, everything that we usually appreciate in classic R&B. It's like Atlantic were going totally anti-Atlantic here, marketing a singer for the tastes of a respectable white middle class family circa 1952 instead of... well, it's not as if respectable white middle class families had completely vanished off the surface of the Earth by 1966, but they sure as hell weren't likely to go hunting for Barbara Lewis, either.

It is not clear to understand the logic of this LP, especially considering that it came right off the heels of Barbara's last truly big hit, ʽMake Me Your Babyʼ, a grand Phil Spector-like lush soul number with towering strings, angelic vocal harmonies, and a vocal performance that at least showed genuine yearning and passion, even if the song itself, written by Helen Miller and Roger Atkins, was little more than a third-rate Shirelles / Ronettes pastiche. But compared to what we got here on the LP... well, enough with the comparisons. If you want a schmaltz version of ʽYes­terdayʼ, Matt Monro is probably the way to go (at least he was there first). As far as my earbuds are concerned, there's absolutely nothing on these songs bar raw timbre and technique, so I'll just have to stack my thumbs down against Encoh Gregory's verdict, and let time choose the winner. Oh, wait, I do believe it already has.

Barbara Lewis: Baby I'm Yours

BARBARA LEWIS: BABY I'M YOURS (1965)

1) Baby, I'm Yours; 2) My Heart Went Do Da Dat; 3) Come Home; 4) Think A Little Sugar; 5) If You Love Her; 6) Stop That Girl; 7) Puppy Love; 8) Hello Stranger; 9) Someday We're Gonna Love Again; 10) Snap Your Fingers; 11) How Can I Say Goodbye; 12) Straighten Up Your Heart.

Today, this looks like a textbook rip-off if there ever was one: six new songs, chaotically mixed with six older songs that had already been released both as singles and as part of the Hello Stranger and Snap Your Fingers LPs. But back in 1965, this probably looked like a reasonable marketing solution, well acceptable for both the artist and the customer. As Barbara's career had pretty much stalled by 1963, and then got jump-started again with the smash success of ʽBaby I'm Yoursʼ in early 1965, the managers of Atlantic probably decided to «reboot» her, reasonably thinking that nobody would remember those early songs in the first place, and that most of the people who might want to buy the LP based on the power of the single had never bought the first two LPs — or, if they did, had already forgotten about them.

What's a retro-reviewer got to do, though? There's only six new songs here to take care of, none of them written by the artist herself, and probably only two deserving special attention. The title track is, of course, an Atlantic classic, another lush ballad written by Van McCoy especially for Barbara and distinguishable for its non-standard hook, where the first three lines, smoothly and tenderly spiralling upwards, are then suddenly (but gently) brought down to earth with a deeper "in other words..." counterpoint. Like ʽHello Strangerʼ, it is more of a traditional pop ballad than a real R&B groove, and Barbara is probably sounding even «whiter» here than on ʽHello Stran­gerʼ, but that should not detract from the intrinsic qualities of the song. Unfortunately, none of the other ballads here match that hook — ʽIf You Love Herʼ and ʽHow Can I Say Goodbyeʼ are pleasant Roy Orbison imitations that would need a real Roy Orbison to make them come to life: Barbara's vocal parts are too fragile and quiet to make the transition from soothing background to rousing foreground.

A second, more minor, classic is ʽSomeday We're Gonna Love Againʼ, from the pen of Sharon McMahan — the song was originally released as a B-side on one of Barbara's singles from 1964 and had already been covered by the Searchers as well, but in this case, I'll definitely take Barbara's version over the Searchers: Atlantic rewards her with a tougher, tighter rhythm section, good support from background vocalists and brass players, and the tension is seemingly higher here than on the Searchers' relatively frail version. Basically, with Lewis it's an uplifting anthem (she sings "someday we're gonna love again" like she really means it), with the Searchers it's a bit of an uncertain mush.

That's about it, though: even Jackie DeShannon's ʽStop That Girlʼ sounds like generic movie fodder from circa 1964-65, though by no means unpleasant. Overall, there's just nothing to dis­cuss, as the entire album could be represented in terms of a single single, with ʽBaby I'm Yoursʼ as the A-side and ʽSomeday We're Gonna Love Againʼ as the B-side. But no representative collection of mid-Sixties pop music could do without either.

Barbara Lewis: Snap Your Fingers

BARBARA LEWIS: SNAP YOUR FINGERS (1964)

1) Snap Your Fingers; 2) Please, Please, Please; 3) Frisco Blues; 4) I'll Bring It Back Home To You; 5) Just A Matter Of Time; 6) Twist And Shout; 7) I Don't Want To Cry; 8) Turn On Your Love Light; 9) Stand By Me; 10) If You Need Me; 11) What'd I Say; 12) Baby, Workout; 13) Shame, Shame, Shame.

So much for «original songwriting». With a short string of self-penned singles (ʽStraighten Up Your Heartʼ, ʽPuppy Loveʼ) that charted quite modestly, unable to repeat the success of ʽHello Strangerʼ, Atlantic Records probably decided that it was, after all, a mistake to be so permissive towards the lady — and, in stark contrast, made sure that her second LP did not contain even a single original. Instead, they came up with the plain-as-day, dumb-as-death concept of «Barbara Lewis Sings The Great Soul Tunes». This means that Barbara Lewis has to demonstrate to the world that she knows how to put a special twist on James Brown, Sam Cooke, Ray Charles, Solo­mon Burke, the Isley Brothers, Bobby Bland, and make it all the way to Jimmy Reed.

Needless to say, that is a really tough challenge for a nice, quiet, collected lady like Barbara who would much rather write her tender little ballads and pop ditties. She bravely braces herself for the ungrateful task and does what she can — yet even if the results are perfectly listenable, there is hardly any reason for us to get too excited about these takes on ʽTwist And Shoutʼ and ʽWhat'd I Sayʼ, with their energy level well suited to the ambience of a contemporary teen-oriented TV show, but never reaching the requirements of a truly sweaty, gritty R&B workout. In other words, ʽTwist And Shoutʼ here is far more about twisting than shouting, and the infamous moaning sex bits on ʽWhat'd I Sayʼ would probably satisfy the most conservative parents, so far removed they are from, you know... the real thing.

I have absolutely no idea how Atlantic, a label that was generally known for its good marketing sense, could have thrown away money on such a hopeless project — making the star of ʽHello Strangerʼ cover Jimmy Reed's ʽShame, Shame, Shameʼ was pretty much the equivalent of some genius marketologist telling Simon & Garfunkel, "hey boys, that ʽSound Of Silenceʼ thing was so cool, now how about you covering some of those British Invasion hits for us, like ʽYou Really Got Meʼ and ʽMy Generationʼ?" The only way for Barbara Lewis to succeed was with original material suited to her quietly reserved personality; instead, she is challenged with the impossible task of having to stand up to the belting of James Brown and to the gospel-pop vibes of Sam Cooke. She is a good girl, and she had a good backing band, but this has got to go down in his­tory as one of the most ridiculous gaffes in Atlantic's history in the Sixties. Thumbs down.

Barbara Lewis: Hello Stranger

BARBARA LEWIS: HELLO STRANGER (1963)

1) Hello Stranger; 2) Puppy Love; 3) On Bended Knees; 4) My Heart Went Do Dat Da; 5) My Mama Told Me; 6) Gonna Love You Till The End Of Time; 7) Would You Love Me; 8) Longest Night Of The Year; 9) Does Anyone Want A Lover; 10) We're Too Young To Marry; 11) Love Is A Castle; 12) Think A Little Sugar.

In the early 1960s, mainstream R&B was going through much the same crisis as mainstream rock'n'roll, caught up in the drive to make teen-oriented music sweeter and softer — and so, if you ever wondered, like me, how could Atlantic Records switch its focus from the harsher, cooler, more ass-kicking sound of Ruth Brown to the tender, fragile, bubblegummier sound of Carla Thomas and Barbara Lewis, well, do not forget that it was essentially the same relation as be­tween Gene Vincent and Ricky Nelson. Despite being marketed as an R&B artist, there was really very little R&B about Barbara Lewis and quite a bit of pop. But, now that we are long out of that time loop and no longer feel any pressure to choose one over the other, who cares?..

Even though Barbara's debut album is quite a rarity nowadays (it did get an official CD release, but has probably been out of print for years now), there is one outstanding thing about it: it was completely self-written — yes, that's right, not just the hit singles, but every single track here is credited exclusively to Barbara Lewis and nobody else. How she got Atlantic to trust her on that is not entirely clear, but it most probably had to do with the big commercial success of ʽHello Strangerʼ — a song with a strange, subtle charm, emanating from John Young's organ riffs, backing vocals from the Dells, and Barbara's own croon, half-sexy, half-sad, and, lyrically and attitude-wise, probably more aligned with Sinatra than with Ray Charles. The song does not even have an explicit vocal hook (unless "shoo-bop, shoo-bop, my baby" counts), essentially becoming a hit based on atmosphere more than melody.

The funniest thing is that both of the other two single A-sides included on this record, ʽMy Heart Went Do Dat Daʼ and ʽPuppy Loveʼ, are far catchier — the former is a lushly orchestrated twist number that tries to express the same kind of first-time excitement that is found on ʽI Saw Her Standing Thereʼ, the latter a piece of hard-to-resist bubblegum that shows Barbara is as good at describing situations of emotional disappointment as she is with sudden teenage crushes. Cool, cuddly numbers with decent musicianship, yes, but neither of them captured the national heart as strongly as ʽHello Strangerʼ — perhaps because the nation felt some sort of intangible intrigue in Lewis' performance, as opposed to complete clarity and one-dimensionality of the other two.

On the whole, her songwriting is surprisingly diverse: the songs include straightforward doo-wop numbers (ʽOn Bended Kneesʼ), Brill Building-style teen-pop (ʽMy Mama Told Meʼ), a bit of very light R&B (ʽGonna Love You Till The End Of Timeʼ is pretty much a cuddlier re-write of ʽMoney (That's What I Want)ʼ — well, nobody claimed Barbara Lewis was a completely original songwriter), some jazz-pop (ʽWould You Love Meʼ), and slow orchestrated balladry (ʽLove Is A Castleʼ). «Great» is not a word I'd associate with any of this, though, for some strange reason, the otherwise bland pop ditty ʽWe're Too Young To Marryʼ is distinguished by a highly melodic, inventive, and energetic string passage that is resolved with an amusingly Beethoven-esque flourish. But it's all pretty, listenable, tasteful, and the diversity helps you form the impression that you are actually listening to some sort of artistic statement, rather than a simple bunch of filler quickly produced as packing material for the hit single. As far as I'm concerned, that's sufficient grounds to give the record a thumbs up — it is not every day, admit it, that you run across a pop album from 1963 where all the songs have been written by the artist (even if, admit­tedly, some of these songs did not involve that much songwriting); in fact, as far as labels such as Atlantic and Motown are concerned, I am not sure that (barring professional songwriters who also had their own bands, like Smokey Robinson) there was even a real precedent.