If you were to ask me to define or explain exactly what “the sound of Philadelphia is,” I would probably struggle.
But I could give you one name.
Teddy Pendergrass.
And one song.
This one.
Teddy Pendergrass died last night. He was 59. If you grew up in this area, and you did not slow dance to “If You Don’t Know Me by Now,” you don’t know what you’re missing.
Very simply put, Teddy Pendergrass was everything every guy who considered himself a fan of soul music wanted to be. He was the sexiest man on the planet, with a voice that simply oozed Philly.
I was a late arrival to the rock scene. When I was a kid, I listened – and danced – to soul records.
There were two distinct sounds that dominated the era. Motown, and all the great groups such as The Temptations and The Four Tops, and TSOP.
If you have to ask what TSOP stands for, you don’t get it.
Motown was driven by the beat, that constant thumping sound in the background. The Sound of Philadelphia was just that, a rich, orchestral background that accompanied so many of those songs by Gamble & Huff.
But it also had a voice. It belonged to Teddy Pendergrass.
The voice has now gone silent. But that sound never will.
I was stunned this morning when I flipped on the radio and learned Pendergrass had died. I didn’t even know he was sick.
Pendergrass was the front man for Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes before going on to a solo career.
He had been confined to a wheelchair since an auto accident in 1992. The crash cost him his legs. But not his voice.
And there was only one voice.
Go ahead, drop the needle on the record. There’s simply nothing like it.
Never was, likely never will be.
Thanks for the music, Teddy.
But I could give you one name.
Teddy Pendergrass.
And one song.
This one.
Teddy Pendergrass died last night. He was 59. If you grew up in this area, and you did not slow dance to “If You Don’t Know Me by Now,” you don’t know what you’re missing.
Very simply put, Teddy Pendergrass was everything every guy who considered himself a fan of soul music wanted to be. He was the sexiest man on the planet, with a voice that simply oozed Philly.
I was a late arrival to the rock scene. When I was a kid, I listened – and danced – to soul records.
There were two distinct sounds that dominated the era. Motown, and all the great groups such as The Temptations and The Four Tops, and TSOP.
If you have to ask what TSOP stands for, you don’t get it.
Motown was driven by the beat, that constant thumping sound in the background. The Sound of Philadelphia was just that, a rich, orchestral background that accompanied so many of those songs by Gamble & Huff.
But it also had a voice. It belonged to Teddy Pendergrass.
The voice has now gone silent. But that sound never will.
I was stunned this morning when I flipped on the radio and learned Pendergrass had died. I didn’t even know he was sick.
Pendergrass was the front man for Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes before going on to a solo career.
He had been confined to a wheelchair since an auto accident in 1992. The crash cost him his legs. But not his voice.
And there was only one voice.
Go ahead, drop the needle on the record. There’s simply nothing like it.
Never was, likely never will be.
Thanks for the music, Teddy.
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