![]() ![]() And unlike almost everyone else who ever left Motown, Knight and the Pips became more popular outside that machine. So Knight and the Pips left Motown for Buddah Records. Knight and the Pips tried to renegotiate their Motown deal, but they couldn’t come to an agreement. But that single’s success didn’t save Knight’s relationship with Motown. (It’s a 7.) Jim Weatherly, a former Ole Miss quarterback who’d turned to songwriting when he didn’t make it into the NFL, wrote the song. Their last big Motown record was 1972’s “ Neither One Of Us (Wants To Be The First To Say Goodbye),” a heart-wrenched ballad that peaked at #2. (It’s a 9.) Knight and the Pips kept cranking out hits at Motown, but they weren’t a priority at the label, and they knew it. In 1967, a year before Marvin Gaye hit #1 with “ I Heard It Through The Grapevine,” Knight and the Pips’ hard, funky version of the same song peaked at #2. They weren’t a priority at Motown, and Knight has told a story about how they were removed as an opening acts on a Supremes tour because Diana Ross thought that they were too good and that they were outshining the headliners.īut Knight and the Pips still found a way to break through. In 1966, they signed to Motown, but Berry Gordy, who didn’t see a ton of crossover potential, moved them to Soul Records, a Motown sub-label that specialized in harder R&B. They didn’t make hits for a long time, but with the help of the choreographer Cholly “Pops” Atkins, they put together a great live show. Knight rejoined the Pips (who went through a few lineup changes) a couple of years later, after she’d already had two kids. During those years, the Pips kept performing without Knight, and as you can probably imagine, not much came of that. She was 18 and married, and she wanted to start a family with her husband, the musician Jimmy Newman. (It’s an 8.) But a year after that, Knight temporarily left music behind. They signed a couple of contracts with small labels, and one of their early singles, 1961’s “ Every Beat Of My Heart,” was an out-of-nowhere hit, peaking at #6. Knight and the Pips played the talent-show circuit around Atlanta, where they were from. (When Knight sang on an American Idol finale decades later, she was really just going back to her roots.) That same year, she’d won The Original Amateur Hour, a TV singing competition. Knight had joined up with two siblings and two cousins to form the Pips in 1952, when she was eight. By the time “Midnight Train To Georgia” hit #1, Knight had been singing with the Pips for more than 20 years. Knight and the Pips had plenty of time to figure that balance out. You should really read it.) And he’s absolutely right about “Midnight Train To Georgia,” a perfect record that draws its perfection from that near-impossible balance of seriousness and silliness. (In the book, he lists a bunch more example of “Pipsiness,” including Flavor Flav and Temptations bass singer Melvin Franlin. I don’t agree with Chuck Eddy about everything, but I love this idea. Calling music “intense” or “emotional” or “soulful” is usually a euphemism for “it seems like something I’m supposed to like.” It’s fairly obvious that the Pips alone would be an ignorable proposition my point is that Gladys alone would be just as ignorable. Without the Pips, Gladys would be merely “intense” - not catchy enough, therefore boring, therefore not intense at all, really. In “Midnight Train To Georgia, which everybody I’ve ever met acknowledges is a great record, the frivolousness of the Pips doing their train-whistle ooo-wooos (especially if you’re watching it on TV and they’re gesturing and spinning around in unison at the same time) is what keeps Gladys’ soul singing down-to-earth. Meanwhile, the Pips circle around her, throwing in little bits that almost seem to be lightly mocking the whole story: “A superstar! But he didn’t get far!” Here’s how Eddy puts it: Knight, a gospel-trained powerhouse, wails about giving her heart to this hopeless doof. In his great 1997 book The Accidental Evolution Of Rock ‘N’ Roll, the critic Chuck Eddy (who was also the first person ever to hire me to write about music) posits what he calls “The Gladys Knight & The Pips Rule.” It’s all about “Midnight Train To Georgia.” Eddy’s whole idea is that “Midnight Train To Georgia,” this grandly wrenching song about being hopelessly in love with a loser, ends up meaning a whole lot more because the Pips are in there, making it sillier and lighter and friendlier and more approachable.
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