I have a confession to make: I’m a soul man.
Yeah, I know, you’d never know from looking at this ruddy Irish face.
But I’m not talking about complexion. I’m talking about something much more important than that. I’m talking about music.
I’ve always been a soul man.
Give me some Motown, a little TSOP (that’s The Sound Of Philly for those who never slow-danced to The Delfonics doing “La la la la la Means I Love You.”)
The thing is, I’ve never looked at music as black or white. It was always the sound, and the way it made you feel.
That’s why to this day when I’m in the car and a Four Tops song comes on the radio, the volume gets cranked up and the driver starts bopping. Most people in other cars probably think this poor old guy is having a seizure.
My kids did not exactly share my musical passion. I would always chide them about their musical tastes and the fleeting familiarity of their favorites. Every time a Tops or Temptations song came on the radio, I would inform them just how old it was, and that centuries from now, they will still be playing these songs. They used to smirk. Today I think they understand.
When rock started to take over the music scene, I can proudly admit I was late to the party. I continued to cling to the soul and dance music that I heard in my head - and my heart.
Eventually I became quite the rock connoisseur. It was the thing to do.
But I never really gave up my love of soul music. What I secretly hoped for was a band that could merge the two.
Then, in 1973, when I was a senior in high school, I played an album that did just that.
It was called “Abandoned Luncheonette.”
This one came with an added bonus. Daryl Hall and John Oates were Philly guys. Hall grew up in Pottstown and went to Owen J. Roberts. Oates was from North Wales and attended North Penn High. They met at Temple.
Forty years later, I can make this pretty simple declaration: If they are not the greatest pop duo in pop history, I’d like to know who is.
They cranked out a series of blockbuster hits. Tunes that live in your head forever, like “Sara Smile,” “Kiss on Your Lips,” " She's Gone" and the inimitable remake of the Righteous Brothers Classic “You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin."
But here’s the thing. Those were never the songs I really liked. It was the other stuff, which I call “blue-eyed soul” (and which I understand is a term that they hate) that has always drawn me in. I can listen to “Marigold Sky” forever. There is not a bad cut on it. Same goes for “Do It for Love.”
Listen to Daryl Hall’s voice on this version of “Throw the Roses Away” and tell me of a better soul performance.
My buddy Mike Morsch, who edits our Montgomery Newspapers group, interviewed John Oates and did a piece on the 40th anniversary of “Abandoned Luncheonette.” You can read it here. As I was reading it a single night came to mind. It had to be in the late ‘70s or early ‘80s. Back then there was a legendary rock bar in Newark, Del., called the Stone Balloon. I was in there most weekends.
It featured mostly local bands, but on occasion would get a name act. Some guy named Bruce Springsteen played there once. So did Hall & Oates. And this was after they were supestarrs. I'm not making this up. I was there and saw it with my own eyes. It was a tiny place. I’m not sure how many it held, maybe 1,000. That night it seemed like twice that many were jammed in there. It was worth every second.
I’ve probably forgotten more about all the concerts I’ve seen in my life than I remember. But some nights stay with you.
That night, in that club, with that band, I will remember forever.
Forty years? Seems like yesterday.
I’ll always be a Philly guy. A soul guy. And a huge Hall and Oates fan.
Yeah, I know, you’d never know from looking at this ruddy Irish face.
But I’m not talking about complexion. I’m talking about something much more important than that. I’m talking about music.
I’ve always been a soul man.
Give me some Motown, a little TSOP (that’s The Sound Of Philly for those who never slow-danced to The Delfonics doing “La la la la la Means I Love You.”)
The thing is, I’ve never looked at music as black or white. It was always the sound, and the way it made you feel.
That’s why to this day when I’m in the car and a Four Tops song comes on the radio, the volume gets cranked up and the driver starts bopping. Most people in other cars probably think this poor old guy is having a seizure.
My kids did not exactly share my musical passion. I would always chide them about their musical tastes and the fleeting familiarity of their favorites. Every time a Tops or Temptations song came on the radio, I would inform them just how old it was, and that centuries from now, they will still be playing these songs. They used to smirk. Today I think they understand.
When rock started to take over the music scene, I can proudly admit I was late to the party. I continued to cling to the soul and dance music that I heard in my head - and my heart.
Eventually I became quite the rock connoisseur. It was the thing to do.
But I never really gave up my love of soul music. What I secretly hoped for was a band that could merge the two.
Then, in 1973, when I was a senior in high school, I played an album that did just that.
It was called “Abandoned Luncheonette.”
This one came with an added bonus. Daryl Hall and John Oates were Philly guys. Hall grew up in Pottstown and went to Owen J. Roberts. Oates was from North Wales and attended North Penn High. They met at Temple.
Forty years later, I can make this pretty simple declaration: If they are not the greatest pop duo in pop history, I’d like to know who is.
They cranked out a series of blockbuster hits. Tunes that live in your head forever, like “Sara Smile,” “Kiss on Your Lips,” " She's Gone" and the inimitable remake of the Righteous Brothers Classic “You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin."
But here’s the thing. Those were never the songs I really liked. It was the other stuff, which I call “blue-eyed soul” (and which I understand is a term that they hate) that has always drawn me in. I can listen to “Marigold Sky” forever. There is not a bad cut on it. Same goes for “Do It for Love.”
Listen to Daryl Hall’s voice on this version of “Throw the Roses Away” and tell me of a better soul performance.
My buddy Mike Morsch, who edits our Montgomery Newspapers group, interviewed John Oates and did a piece on the 40th anniversary of “Abandoned Luncheonette.” You can read it here. As I was reading it a single night came to mind. It had to be in the late ‘70s or early ‘80s. Back then there was a legendary rock bar in Newark, Del., called the Stone Balloon. I was in there most weekends.
It featured mostly local bands, but on occasion would get a name act. Some guy named Bruce Springsteen played there once. So did Hall & Oates. And this was after they were supestarrs. I'm not making this up. I was there and saw it with my own eyes. It was a tiny place. I’m not sure how many it held, maybe 1,000. That night it seemed like twice that many were jammed in there. It was worth every second.
I’ve probably forgotten more about all the concerts I’ve seen in my life than I remember. But some nights stay with you.
That night, in that club, with that band, I will remember forever.
Forty years? Seems like yesterday.
I’ll always be a Philly guy. A soul guy. And a huge Hall and Oates fan.
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