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GIRL GROUPS OF THE '60s: WHO LED THE PACK?

The uniquely American girl group phenomenon had a relatively brief lifespan: it arose in the late '50s at the tail end of the first onslaught of rock 'n' roll; it flourished in the early '60s, a period given over mostly to light pop and pop-oriented R&B; and it fell by the wayside in the second half of the '60s as the British Invasion, increasingly sophisticated music, and emerging stylistic hybirds such as folk-rock swiftly revolutionized popular music.

October 2, 1982
Jim Feldman

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GIRL GROUPS OF THE '60s: WHO LED THE PACK?

Jim Feldman

The uniquely American girl group phenomenon had a relatively brief lifespan: it arose in the late '50s at the tail end of the first onslaught of rock 'n' roll; it flourished in the early '60s, a period given over mostly to light pop and pop-oriented R&B; and it fell by the wayside in the second half of the '60s as the British Invasion, increasingly sophisticated music, and emerging stylistic hybirds such as folk-rock swiftly revolutionized popular music. Yet, in only a few years, the charts were flooded with untold numbers of releases by scores of girl groups. Many of the groups were indistinguishable or overtly imitative as were far too many 45s—follow-up singles were perhaps the most blatant example of cashing in on a good thing instead of creating one; witness the degeneration of one of the great records of all time (absolutely), Martha & the Vandellas“'Heat Wave,” through their subsequent release, the OK-but-unnecessary “Quicksand.” to the limp, inappropriately titled “Live Wire."

An image that implied anything more passionate than youthful romantic longing was forbidden, at least on the surface of things.

Even so. the astounding number of vinyl masterpieces and other still-vibrant singles assured the girl group phenomenon an important place in rock history. The Crystals’ “Da Doo Ron Ron,” the Ronettes’ “Be My Baby,” the Chiffons’ “One Fine Day,” the Angels' “My Boyfriend's Back,” the Shirelles' “Mama Said,” the Exciters' “Tell Him,” most Shangri-Las records. loads of hits by the Supremes, Martha & the Vandellas, and the Marvelettes. Etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Whether labeled pop or soul, they were two-minute-plus marvels of melodic exuberance, emotional directness, and (often giddy) instrumental creativity. Phil Spector’s celebrated wall of sound on records by the Ronettes, Crystals, Bob B. Soxx & the Blue Jeans, and Darlene Love and Motown’s early deftness and distinctiveness denied the supposed limitations of four-track studios and untrained teenage girls, as did other hits. Except for Spector, who often spent plenty of time and money in the studio (sometimes in self-indulgent quantities and without releasing the tracks), producers, songwriters, singers and musicians were forced to adapt to the pressures of limited time and low budgets.

The single was all in the early ’60s, and without the high income-producing power or the attention-holding chart life and airplay potential of albums, it was’ essentially true that a group was only as big as their last hit. (Obviously, once the Supremes had five #1 hits in a row, they could afford a miss or two, but they were the glaring exception.) So, writers such as Carole King and Gerry Goffin, Ellie Greenwich and Jeff Barry, Smokey Robinson, and the Holland-Dozier-Holland triumvirate turned out material seemingly and sometimes literally overnight. Records were produced hastily; sometimes demo arrangements were used for the final product. In this ongoing pop music version of Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland saying “Let’s put on another show,” there wasn’t much place for studied perfection (although Spector never agreed, which, in part, led to his withdrawal from the music business). But this hectic, narrowly focused task of getting out a hit contributed to the fresh, on-the-spot cleverness and honesty that made the best girl-group records so immediately appealing.

Teenage girls singing catchy songs about one aspect or another of teen romance fit in with the youth orientation and (supposedly) innocent optimism of the early 60s. But as much as girl-group records reflected the youthful, spirited stretching of pop creativity, the rise and fall of the groups themselves resulted from the early, but recognizable rumblings of the music industry—in which profits, ego, and hosts of lawyers are at least as important as the music itself..

Reflecting the sociology of the times, there was little room up front for women in the early rock ’n’ roll scheme of things. Except for a few major stars—Connie Francis, Brenda Lee—the charts were dominated by male vocal groups, heartthrobs. and rockers. It was okay for teenage guys to identify with pop stars, but it was considered inappropriate for girls to aspire to such an aggressive, "unseemly” role. Francis, Lee, and a few others were safe, squeaky-clean role models thrown in as a sop. And the lack of female pop stars wasn’t at all risky, business-wise; it was an accepted fact that the female record-buying public would swoon over the male stars and then go out and buy their records.

So, the advent of the girl groups was a curious reversal that necessitated a doubleedged approach on the part of producers, writers, and record company executives. With extreme care, the groups were packaged and presented—on record and in personal appearances—so that any overt sexual aggressiveness could be held as a matter of audience perspective rather than planned presentation. With chaperones to watch out for any unladylike misstep or misstatement in public, most of the groups were given lessons in deportment, grooming, and the like; opinions more controversial than “l love America were frowned upon. Singers were fired for any number of reasons—excess poundage, refusal to acquiesce unwaveringly to their mentors’ wishes. An image that implied anything more passionate than youthful romantic longing was forbidden, at least on the surface of things.

Of course, sex has always been a major factor in the selling of rock and pop; in the case of girl groups, it was the unspoken subtext. Guys definitely lusted after Veronica Bennett (letter Ronnie Spector) of the Ronettes; however she was packaged, she oozed sexual desire.’ But the stock romantic cliches in the songs they recorded made the groups respectable enough for teenage girls who, after all, weren’t supposed to have sex on their minds. Sure, there was an undeniable erotic bent to the singers’ deliveries and arrangements. But it was offset by the “proper” soap opera set-up of most lyrics, which reached their moral apotheosis in the Dixie Cups' “Chapel Of Love.” Sexual relations? The Crystals’ “Then He Kissed Me” was about as intense as things got—one big kiss and marriage is proposed. There were occasional exceptions to the sweet, romantic formula: the Crystals released the absurdly masochistic Goffin/King song, “He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss),” in which the hero’s jealous outburst was proof of his. love: not surprisingly, the record was’ quickly banned. Another aggressive oddity was the Angels' gleefully nasty “My Boyfriend's Back." A line like “And there’s gonna be trouble, hey la hey la’ might have caused palpitations among radio programmers and parents, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the singer’s honey was going to pound this other guy for unjustly sullying her reputation. And the ShangriLas, whose hits were the stuff of high tragedy, inevitably found themselves succumbing in the most basic of morality tales. The singer’s parents warned her about the "Leader Of The Pack,” but she wouldn’t listen, and he got killed; in “Give Us Your Blessings,” the couple's parents wouldn’t do just that, the young lovers drove off to elope, and died in a car crash.

When most girl groups made their first (and usually only) splash on the charts, they were very young, teenagers themselves. They started out singing in school choirs, church groups, and they formed vocal groups to sing on the corner or at the hop. Their backgrounds were generally unsophisticated—some of the girls could be called street kids—and when they were pushed into the spotlight, the rough edges had to be smoothed over. What couldn’t be changed, however, was the fact that most of the girls were black. Save for Berry Gordy Jr. and his Motown organization, almost all executives and producers in the music business were white, as were most songwriters. But even the white prime movers behind the girls-group outbreak were oriented toward R&B music—and, not coincidentally, were usually based in New York or Philadelphia. Spector, writer/producers Barry/Greenwich, Goffin/King, and Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller (who founded the Red Bird and Blue Cat Labels) fleshed out simple, catchy pop tunes with more intense, rhythmic. sometimes gospel-tinted arrangements. So, black groups were ubiquitous, while, except for the Shangri-Las, the Angels, and Reparata and the Deirons, I dare you to name another successful white girl group—and Reparata is already stretching it.

As a consequence, given the social climate of the early ’60s, the records were spotlighted, and there was little focus on the girls as artists or personalities. Discussing this sign of the times in his fine book. Girl Groups; The Story Of A Sound, Alan Betrock also suggests that since the groups were totally subject to the creative control of the producers and writers, there was no overwhelming moral imperative to further the girls’ careers: they were treated as hired voices, much like most anonymous-even-if-you-know-their-names disco singers today. For whatever combination of reasons, there was a paucity of print or television exposure for girl groups, except for the Supremes, who were heavily promoted by Gordy. As Betrock points out, though, the Supremes didn’t even become the first girl group to appear on The Ed Sullivan Show until they had had five #1 hits in a row.

The girls in the groups were themselves ultimately expendable, and nobody with any power really pretended otherwise. Record companies would release albums without groups’ pictures on the covers; you could never be too sure if the girls who played dates and made personal appearances were actual group members. And then, who exactly did a group’s moniker refer to when, for example, Phil Spector didn’t use the Crystals on their #1 “He’s A Rebel” or “He’s Sure The Boy 1 Love”; he recorded the songs instead with Darlene Love, a singer under her own name, lead vocalist with Bob B. Soxx & the Blue Jeans, and also lead singer with the Blossoms, whose main claim to fame was their regular spot on Shindig. The girls were almost always bound so tightly in contracts that they had to record and tour when t%y were told to do so. And the wages of their successes were painfully small. With little if any business or legal savvy, they ended up with miserly royalty rates; they received modest allowances, and after studio costs and other expenses were considered, the girls usually had almost nothing to show for their efforts— particularly when compared with the profits made by producers and record companies And since they rarely had identifiable group and individual personalities, they didn’t have any power of celebrity to use to their advantage. The voices mattered, but essentially they were disembodied

When most girl groups made their first (and usually only) splash on the charts, they were very young, teenagers themselves.

Motown’s involvement in the girl-group phenomenon was marked by inconsistency and harmful conflicts of interest. The Supremes, Martha & the Vandellas. and the Marvelettes had a stronger, more aggressive organization behind them than other girl groups; they were also exponents of another successful musical area, the Motown sound. For these reasons alone, it’s no wonder that these three groups were the most Visible girl groups of all. Their singles were usually at least minor gems, and often classics; thus were the Supremes deservedly the most successful American group of the ’60s.

But Berry Gordy controlled his groups’ members with the same George Steinbrennerish concern for their well-being and careers as that displayed by Spector and other girl group honchos. Although the Marvelettes had their share of first-rate, saucy Motown tunes, the group never achieved any individual celebrity; they were matched up with producers and material in a seemingly unconcerned manner, and as Gordy became more interested in Martha .& the Vandellas and then the Supremes, the Marvelettes fell victims to the trickle effect when the trickle runs dry. Martha & the Vandellas featured a number of Vandellas over the years, but they never mattered much, since Martha Reeves did attract individual acclaim. She was arguably the most talented and lustiest singer to emerge from a girl group, yet Gordy reacted negatively to Reeves’ selfassertiveness as he put more of Motown’s energies into the amazingly successful Supremes. Eventually, Reeves stopped getting hits and left Motown. Gordy’s indifference to her special talents was one of the real tragedies of the always turbulent girl-group era.

Due to their popularity, the Supremes’ personalities did come into play as thencareer progressed. And Gordy fueled the publicity fires* determined to achieve a huge black and white following for the group. Diana Ross—ironically, one of the (then) weakest lead vocalists in a girl group—quickly revealed herself to be a terrific personality singer (a delicate balance of street smarts and vulnerability, coyness and enthusiasm). Gordy made her the centerpiece of the group, on and off stage. As a business decision for Gordy and as a career move for Ross, it was certainly the right move: not only did Ross become a “superstar,” she is also one of the on/y (if you’re not counting Patti Labelle’s or Gladys Knight’s early efforts) singers to survive the period successfully. Yet while there is no doubting that the Supremes apotheosized the girl group, the demise of original member Florence Ballard represented the nadir of the groups' treatment. Ballard resented the attention paid to Ross and became professionally somewhat unreliable. Gordy finally replaced Ballard with Cindy Birdsong (a former Blue Belle), perhaps with good cause, but it is still an astonishing fact that Ballard went on welfare before she died several years ago. The arithmetic of the Supremes’ financial success simply couldn’t have worked out fairly, and then Ballard’s stab at a solo career didn’t go anywhere. It’s a real sob story.

Whatever the behind-the-scenes machinations. the joyful directness and the youthful honesty of so many of the girl group records—songs of teenage passion and pain—were part of a pop framework that remains influential. Debbie Harry may have ants in her pants, and the Go-Go’s, well, they are all knowledgeable women who are not myopically romantic, but the geneology makes sense. And I know it’s old news, but let’s not forget that Bruce Springsteen was definitely affected by the Ronettes. Girl group records have survived the years; it’s too bad the groups didn’t.