The voice of Levi Stubbs was a gale force of raw impassioned soul - distinctive, plaintive, riveting…and trustworthy. I know that last word is rarely (if ever) used to describe a voice, but in the case of Mr. Stubbs, I find it fitting. For someone who sang with so much emotion, you never once doubted the sentiment he was delivering. And that’s saying a lot when you consider the sheer volume of sins singers have committed over the decades by overstating themselves.

I have my mother to thank for my life-long appreciation of Levi Stubbs and the Four Tops. I was born on August 21, 1964 and the Tops made their debut on the Billboard R&B singles chart the week before on August 15th with “Baby I Need Your Loving.” So when I say life-long appreciation, I mean my entire life! I have always said my mother should have been an Andante – the name of the female singing group that sang on so many Motown recordings, particularly those of the Holland-Dozier-Holland-produced songs of the Four Tops. When my mama sings the chorus of “Baby, I Need Your Loving,” it sounds like one woman covering all of the Andantes’ harmony parts!

But trying to sing Levi’s lead parts on a Four Tops song is a seriously dicey proposition. Those who know me well know that the Dennis Edwards-era Temptations are my all-time favorite vocal group. I have been known to pick out “Psychedelic Shack” at the karaoke bar and sing all five of the members’ parts – from Eddie Kendricks’ falsetto to Melvin Franklin’s bass! Now I’m hardly saying that I can match their thrilling heights, but I will say that I was never so daunted that I couldn’t have fun at least trying. But when it comes to Four Tops tunes, I would never dream of trying to sing along to them…at least not Levi’s leads. It’s impossible. I tried once when “It’s the Way Nature Planned It” came out in September of `72 – I loved that song with all its metaphysical contemplations of dynamism. I remember this well because we had just moved to Los Angeles (more on that in a minute) and I was walking to school on an overcast morning. But I checked myself mid-song as my voice woefully cracked and the wisdom behind the message crumbled…because from Levi’s very first lines of Pam Sawyer’s precious lyric, his passion is palpable and all-of-a-whole original.

“Do you know how long a tree lives / Or the reason it grows / You may ask me all these questions / But darling, no one knows / It should be clear I really love you / Don’t ask me why, I just do / Do you ask The Lord who loves you / Why he paints the sky clear blue / It’s the way nature planned it”

The summit of my love for Levi and the Four Tops rests firmly upon the foundation of their magnificent album Still Waters Run Deep from two years earlier in 1970. We were still living in Rialto, California then and my cousins Karen and Jackie came to visit. They were young, fine and hip, buying a few very cool albums while they were staying with us and left them behind as a token of their appreciation. One was Eric Burdon Declares WAR and the other was Still Waters. My father really gravitated towards the WAR album and both of my parents embraced the Tops record…seduced by the gravitational pull of the poetry in songs like “Elusive Butterfly,” “Reflections,” “I Wish I Were Your Mirror” and the bookends “Still Water (Love)” and “Still Water (Peace).”

Semi-conceptual in its makeup, Still Waters Run Deep – produced by Motown’s “West Coast Guy” the great Frank Wilson – was the dawning of a new day at Motown signaling the company’s eminent move from Detroit to Los Angeles. My family had moved from Ann Arbor to Rialto with the 5th Dimension’s Up Up and Away album as our soundtrack, and when we made our next move a mere hour away from Rialto to Los Angeles proper, it was visions of L.A. painted by the song “L.A My Town” that danced in my head. And Levi was my soulful tour guide. As the group harmonized about points of interest from Santa Monica Beach to Alvaro Street in Chinatown, Levi punctuated it all with such electrifying excitement that I couldn’t wait to make that move.

“Sun is shining, baby, in L.A. city!”

But it was another Los Angeles landmark that Levi immortalized in song that became his all-time concert signature – his dramatic interpretation of Jim Webb’s “MacArthur Park” (arranged by Wade Marcus). I consider Levi’s performance here to be one of the greatest vocal recordings of all-time. It’s nowhere near as well known as, say, “Bernadette,” “Standing in the Shadows of Love” or “I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch),” but it was not that kind of ditty. It’s what show biz folks used to call a showstopper – the kind of number that when it was through, audiences leapt to their feet and applauded for an extended time to show their recognition of being in the presence of sheer artistic genius. I saw that happen for Mr. Stubbs, poignantly, at a performance the Four Tops did at the Universal Amphitheatre. He was already debilitated by a stroke and cancer, but he slowly made his way to the front of the stage and delivered “MacArthur Park” with the very best he had in him and earned an overwhelming standing ovation.

I have many cherished memories of Levi Stubbs. At the movies – first and foremost – there will always be the closing scene of Cooley High with Glynn Turman running down the road from his best friend’s gravesite into an unknown future as the strains of “Reach Out I’ll Be There” blare behind him. Also from my `70s black film memory bank is the thunder of “Are You Man Enough” from Shaft in Africa. I always appreciated the thoughtful first post-Motown songs penned by Dennis Lambert & Brian Potter when The Tops switched labels to ABC-Dunhill: “Ain’t No Woman Like The One I’ve Got” (MeShell NdegeOcello agrees, name-dropping it in her song “Digging You Like An Old Soul Record”) and “Keeper of the Castle” (about what it means to be a father). And I’m still a sucker for Frank Wilson-years singles like “In These Changing Times” and “Just Seven Numbers” (thanks, Reg, for hipping me to the latter). How can I forget the incredible battle between “The Temps & The Tops” on the “Motown 25” special (especially Levi playfully fixing Dennis’ handkerchief in the midst of it all). I remember my dad getting a big kick out of “Catfish” (a song about a New Orleans stripper) and how tickled we all were when Levi burst out with the line “The big-leg girl is gone” in the middle of their final chart-topping hit, “When She Was My Girl” in 1981.

Sweetest of all my Four Tops memories is taking my mom to see them, along with the reunited Original 5th Dimension at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts in Orange County. I specify Orange County here because a great deal of the people present at this show were White, blue-haired season ticket holders who, let’s just say, did not constitute the most animated of crowds. But Mom and I were up out of our seats, singing and swaying to the timeless sounds of both groups that had played such a significant role in our lives. But I will never forget Levi at one point during the show making faces at the crowd, urging them to clap on the 2 and 4 or show ANY semblance of connection to the music. Near the end of their opening set, he feigned giving up all together, laying down on his side right there in the middle of the stage – resting his right cheek in his right hand - and fixing the crowd with a look of semi-comic disbelief. It was priceless!

I’ll remember that gesture always as a reminder to try to live each moment – no matter how simple – with as much honest gusto as Levi Stubbs sang a song.

- A. Scott Galloway
October 20, 2008