The Temptations “Reunion”
In 1982 I was not quite old enough to understand Motown, but I had come to assume a thing or two. I knew that The Supremes were iconic, like The Beatles or Elizabeth Taylor. I figured that The Four Tops were an institution, like McDonald’s or The Chicago Cubs. The Temptations, however, were beyond my grasp. Maybe it was because I was young. Or maybe it was because their music and their line-up kept changing. I’m not totally sure. But, even then, I intuited that The Temptations were not a neatly contained story. They were not a star being born. They were not a heroic tale of perseverance. They were more like an epic. But not one that would fit into a single book, like “American Pastoral” or “Lonesome Dove.” No -- The Temptations’ extended universe contained dozens of prequels, blockbusters, sad sequels and discarded manuscripts. It was fully massive, triumphant, multi-generational and messy as shit.
At least twenty-five men can reasonably call themselves a “Temptation.” That’s how many have been featured in Motown’s second greatest band, since they first took their name in 1961. There was the Classic Five -- Otis Williams, Melvin Franklin, Paul Williams, Eddie Kendricks, and David Ruffin -- who were smooth and sweet and light on their feet. Kendricks had a honeyed charm and Ruffin had a hip way of pleading. Together, in their splendid suits, they delivered Smokey’s melodies. To the eye and ear, they were nearly perfect for nearly a decade.
Like Motown, the counterculture and pretty much everything about the 1960s, they did not last. Towards the end of the decade, Smokey’s golden pen began to dry up. David Ruffin, the inimitable, four-eyed star of the group, demanded Berry Gordy open up the royalty statements for the band to review. Tensions thickened within the group and between the group and its label. Increasingly proud and erratic, Ruffin was fired from his band in 1968, replaced by the more reliable and versatile Dennis Edwards. Edwards would front The Temptations for the better part of two decades, including in their unexpected, psychedelic, second peak.
Around 1966, with Smokey Robinson overextended, Gordy handed The Temptations’ keychain to writer and producer, Norman Whitfield. Whitfield’s run with the group, from 1966 through 1974, is not frozen in ember in the way the group’s first incarnation was. However, the artistic heights he achieved with them were equally, if not more, stunning. Beginning with 1969’s “Cloud Nine” and culminating with 1972’s “All Directions,” Whitfield masterminded a half dozen Psychedelic Soul albums that sit admirably next to the best of Marvin Gaye or Sly and the Family Stone. Sprawling, experimental, contemporary and smooth, these albums redefined the sound of The Temptations while ensuring their ongoing relevance. In 1972, the transformation was marked by the deep, sad Funk of “Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” which reached number one on the Billboard charts.
In the midst of the Whitfield period, Eddie Kendricks continued to press Ruffin’s demand that Motown open up their books to the band. Once again, Gordy’s iron fist prevailed. Kendrick’s and his impossible falsetto were relieved from duties in 1970, leaving Otis Williams, Dennis Edwards and a new generation of Temptations to carry the torch. Following the improbable success of “All Directions,” however, hits proved more elusive. In the realm of R&B, Psychedelic Soul was soon eclipsed by lighter Soul, harder Funk and, eventually, Disco. Moreover, in the 1970s, Pop music was a combination of singer songwriter fare and Arena Rock. By the time Norman Whitfield left Motown in the middle of the decade, The Temptations were falling off the charts. Fortunately, and unlike nearly every other Motown band, they owned their own name. So, in 1977 they picked up shop and headed to Atlantic Records, where they released two wholly underwhelming albums. 1978’s “Bare Back” failed to crack the top two hundred album charts. The group that had become a timeless institution, seemed to have run its course.
By the 1980s, The Temptations were back on Motown, trying to shore up their losses and reclaim some of their original magic. At the same time, Eddie Kendricks and David Ruffin were licking their wounds from underwhelming solo careers. Kendricks, a heavy smoker, was a shell of himself vocally. And Ruffin, always a carouser, was in full-blown cocaine addiction. For better and for much worse, Gordy hoped that the group might rediscover its loadstar through its original members. And, frankly, Kendricks and Ruffin needed money. So, by 1981, the notion of a Temptations “reunion” was being hatched.
Against most odds, in the Spring of 1982, David Ruffin stumbled back into the studio where he joined his old bandmates, Williams, Kendricks and Melvin Franklin, his old friend, Dennis Edwards, and then current band members, Glenn Leonard and Richard Street. The (count them) seven men were paired with two white hot writers and producers of the day -- Rick James (of course) and Smokey Robinson (of course). James was coming off of the mega-success of “Super Freak” (which The Temptations sang backup on) and Robinson had just released the chart-topping “Being With You.” James brought the Punk Funk. Smokey brought the Adult Contemporary. Both men, like Ruffin, were in the throes of cocaine addiction.
The resulting album, simply entitled “Reunion,” was designed mostly to be a precursor to a massive, international tour. It all had a whiff of gimmicky exploitation by the label and of sad desperation for Ruffin and Kendricks. Of the seven songs released on the original LP, Ruffin sang lead only once and contributes nominally to one other. Kendricks can barely be heard, other than perhaps a fleeting moment on the first single. In that it is significantly Dennis Edwards in front and the stalwarts behind him, it is a stretch to call the album a “reunion.” And, unlike the early Smokey albums or the higher concept Whitfield albums, there is very little tying the sound or style of these songs together. At seven songs, in fact, it is barely an “album.” It all had the feel of a cryogenic experiment. Could the two dead men walking be resuscitated? And, if so, could they still perform?
Somehow, despite all of the glaring red flags, “Reunion” is a fantastic record. I had no expectation of it. I would have bet a lot of money against it. It makes almost zero sense. “Reunion” is a genuinely unusual record. It spans genres -- Funk, Soul, R&B, Gospel & Adult Contemporary. It vacillates in tone, depending on the writer. It is truly all over the place. In 1982, many wrongly assumed that it was a Rick James album, with The Temptations backing him. Others thought the same thing, but with Smokey Robinson fronting the band. But, amazingly, there are no real misses on the album. And the winners are knockouts.
The album opens with James’ “Standing on the Top,” an almost ten minute Funk marathon that reached the top of the R&B charts. Although we get to hear Ruffin and a little Kendricks as Temptations for the first time in years, this is really a Rick James track. And it’s a great Rick James track. He steals from himself and from George Clinton over a bass line so fat and a beat so cheap and so rich as to make James Murphy tap out. “Standing on the Top” was almost an instant anachronism, too late for Disco and Funk but right before Prince became a household name. It made no sense as a Temptations’ song. But it’s a fun, flawless ten minute spin.
“Reunion” has a lot of ground to cover. It’s trying to prove that the group is, in fact, literally still a group. It is trying to prove that they can sound contemporary. It is trying to prove that they are worth seeing live, in concert. It is trying to prove that David Ruffin and Eddie Kendricks are, in fact, still alive. And it is trying to humanize the men, as they’ve fallen a notch in middle-age. Astonishingly, it succeeds on more of these grounds than not.
Nobody who listened in 1972 would have mistaken the seven The Temptations for an actual band. Eddie Kendricks is barely audible on the album. And David Ruffin frequently missed scheduled events while binging on crack. But, if you just listen to music, it is hard not to feel something in the songs and the voices. Ruffin, even in his beleaguered state, follows the opener with “You Better Beware” a sweet, Roller-Disco track that brings to mind Bill Wither. It is the only song that Ruffin owns. It’s a little funky and a little sunny and a little threatening, given the singer. Ruffin sounds like a middle-aged smoker after a cup of coffee. But, even then, he had not lost his voice.
The balance of the album is handled by Dennis Edwards, with Williams, Franklin, Leonard and Street behind him. Together, the group stays with the Funk on “Lock it in the Pocket” and “Money’s Hard to Get,” which closes the record. The former has a quarter of the stank of “Standing on the Top,” but it has almost as much fun as “Car Wash,” the Disco smash that Norman Whitfield produced half a decade earlier. The latter is a hand-clapping, horn-filled, winking Funk-fest. As with several tracks on “Reunion,” the closer tries to expose the other side of stardom. When you’re “Standing at the Top,” everybody wants a piece of you. But, when the fame is gone, you still have to earn. You still have bills to pay. And, those same people still want a piece. But “Money’s Hard to Get.”
In between the Funk are three lighter ballads, two of which were written by Smokey Robinson. “Backstage” borrows the sound and sentiment of “Being With You,” to paint a portrait of the lonely Pop star, who is adored while in concert but who is utterly alone when he’s off the stage. It’s a genuinely beautiful and appropriate song for this group at this moment. Edwards nurses the lead in falsetto, but you get the sense he’s singing in Kendrick’s voice or, even possibly, about Ruffin. “More on the Inside,” is also a Smokey number, but less appealing and almost exactly the opposite of what its title promises. Trite, kind of sexist and light on the chorus, it feels like something the writer left off his solo albums for a reason.
The third ballad, however, is a cover of “I’ve Never Been to Me,” a famously sentimental Adult Contemporary hit, first recorded by Motown singer Charlene in 1977 and re-released in 1982 after an unexpected radio revival. The original version is sung from the perspective of a jet-setting woman. The Temptations’ version, however, is transformed into a Gospel Soul ballad, sung from the perspective of an older man offering advice to his “hell raising” younger self. The track is completely tender and trite in a New Age-y sort of way. At the same time, it’s also beautiful and full-chested. Edwards delivers a sensitive take for three minutes and then leaves the final note hanging for several seconds, only two return with a pleading, two minute reprise. It would have made a hell of a finale. The headlines about “Reunion” all featured Ruffin, Kendricks, James and Smokey. But the real stories were Edwards and the band, who sound like grown up professionals, start to finish.
In late 1982, The Temptations -- all seven of them -- embarked on the “Reunion” tour. Within days, however, it became evident that survival was unlikely and success was off the table. Ruffin, barely functional, went missing for several shows, which resulted in the band being fined heavily. The remaining six soldiered on, providing some joy and a mountain of memories for fans waiting to see the men in their matching suits, with their matching moves, harmonizing on songs they would remember forever. Many nights had technical problems. But, in the end, they delivered more sweet than bittersweet.
“Reunion” is the last (and lost) great artifact of The Temptations. Musically, it’s the most illogical success. It’s better than The Jackson 5’s “Victory.” It’s better than Diana Ross’ reunion with The Supremes. The songs are almost uniformly excellent. The band has rhythm and grace. And the singers -- at least six of the seven -- can still sing. But, it also has the feel of a cheap relic. It can be found for ninety nine cents at thrift stores. It signifies a moment when a group that became a rich institution, suddenly became a cheap brand. It has the feel of charity for Kendricks and co-dependence for Ruffin, the men who would never again be Temptations. Ruffin died of an overdose in 1991. Kendricks of lung cancer, one year later.