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Tamla T 54089 (A), October 1963
b/w Such Is Love, Such Is Life
(Written by Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier and Edward Holland Jr.)
Stateside SS 263 (A), February 1964
b/w Such Is Love, Such Is Life
(Released in the UK under license through EMI / Stateside Records)
Gather round me, swingers and friends…
After the unexpected smash hit Mickey’s Monkey, which had stormed into the pop Top Ten, this is a second straight Holland-Dozier-Holland/Miracles collaboration, which means that – once again – the group’s talismanic lead singer, producer and songwriter Smokey Robinson only features here as a performer.
Pulled from the Miracles’ newly-recorded fifth LP, Doin’ Mickey’s Monkey, an underwhelming, covers-heavy set hastily written and recorded in the wake of the title track’s commercial success, this was an obvious follow-up single: concocted to appear like very much more of the same, appearing to be a concerted attempt to do something in the same vein as its predecessor.
Which is understandable enough, if not exactly promising; let’s listen and move on. Except, crucially, just as Smokey himself would do time and time again with his own songs, here the HDH trio sit back, take stock, make a note of what worked last time out and what didn’t work, and then turn in an improved variation for the sequel. This is manifestly better than Mickey’s Monkey on almost every possible level, even though it shares most of the same ingredients.
It’s almost as though I Gotta Dance… had to keep its head down when surrounded by the cheaply knocked-out generic dance fluff that clogged up the Doin’ Mickey’s Monkey LP, lest anyone notice how sensitive and thoughtful this song actually was. It’s not really much like Mickey’s Monkey at all (indeed, musically, it’s much closer to HDH’s recent A-side composition for Mary Wells, You Lost The Sweetest Boy, than anything else on Doin’ Mickey’s Monkey, or indeed anything else the Miracles had yet recorded); it just fools the listener into believing it is, because the intro and the instrumentation sound quite similar.
The intro – straight in this time with the bom-ba-bom-ba-bom, bom bom Bo Diddley drum riff, learning from the momentum-sapping mistakes of Mickey’s Monkey by including another “party” crowd scene (Come on everybody, we’re gonna have a party!, Smokey exhorts his little group) but this time having it come in after the drummer’s already started up, rather than them building energy at the very start and then going suddenly quiet while the rhythm changed – gives the impression that this will be a good-time party record, although the title should really be a giveaway that we’re in for something quite different.
Because instead, after just a few bars of this, the tempo abruptly changes, the drum pattern changes, the whole feel of the song changes, and we’re actually venturing into the territory HDH would explore most thoroughly (and most successfully, in terms of both art and sales) with the Supremes: a lyric filled with torment and anguish delivered over a driving, finger-clicking, foot-tapping beat.
Here, perhaps unsure of their craft at this early stage, HDH hang a bell on that contradictory contrast by making it the central lyrical theme of the song. Smokey, completely heartbroken, is heading out to dance the night away with his friends; not because he particularly wants to, but because he needs to, because there’s nothing else to be done except sit around at home and sinking into a full-on depression.
It’s a genius move which completely justifies the jaunty, upbeat tune – Smokey’s narrator isn’t even close to being “over it”, but he’s going to try and pretend that it doesn’t matter, that he’s not hanging by a thread. The theme of someone wearing a mask of forced jollity would be a rich lyrical vein to be mined for future hits for Smokey Robinson, but the initial idea seems to have been suggested by this. He just plays that part so damned well:
Help me forget my hurt within / About the only girl I ever loved / The only one I’m thinking of / And I’ve got to dance to keep from crying / I’ve got to dance to keep from crying…
A hard-hitting, soul-searching examination of post-breakup trauma and macho posturing, set to a driving dancefloor beat. (Even then, Smokey’s too mannered to really engage with the lunkheaded approach adopted on the rest of the LP, as if he knew he was dealing with something special here, something on a rather different level to Land of a Thousand Dances or Dancin’ Holiday. Case in point: despite the faux-casual phrasing of the title, he doesn’t actually sing I gotta, it’s always I’ve got to…, as though he didn’t want to sully the importance or the seriousness of the message with the trappings of a jokey dance number.)
That’s not to say Smokey is po-faced and considered throughout the record – he’s plenty energetic alright, just without being stupid. Indeed, he pretty much doesn’t pause for breath throughout the song, running sentences together, launching straight from the last line of each verse into the main refrain without even the slightest hesitation.
The effect is one of desperate urgency: Smokey’s falling apart and he needs us to know it; he’s laying it down and he needs us to listen, right now. My memories leave me so broken hearted I’ve got to dance to keep from crying I’ve got to dance to keep from crying…. It’s almost unnerving in its intensity.
It is a party record, though, in one very strict sense: the little crowd of swingers and friends that gathered around Smokey at the start never feel like they’ve gone away, as the Miracles are kept audible in the background throughout the record, both as backing vocalists and in a series of whoops, cheers and hollers of encouragement. Unlike on Mickey’s Monkey, where the crowd noises felt tacked on in the extreme, this really does feel like a communal experience; Smokey gives a rambling, self-centred but still grandstanding performance, somewhere between a 17th Century balladeer and a drunk sat in the corner, keeping the audience hanging on his every word, except that this isn’t a performance for public consumption, and we feel privileged to be included in the audience.
There’s production trickery aplenty to achieve this atmosphere – most notably and audaciously around 1:36, when Smokey exclaims they’re making too much noise and asks for things to be turned down a little bit softer, softer, softer, and the backing track immediately drops right out of the mix for the best part of 40 seconds, barely audible in the background, like someone turning down the stereo at a party – which then meets with the disapproval of the other Miracles, who keep beseeching Smokey to turn it up just a little bit higher, just a little bit higher, until he finally acquiesces – I guess I’ll turn it up… and the music starts to creep back up in the mix, as Smokey gets won over – I guess I’ll turn it up, Higher… Higher baby… ALL THE WAY UP, and then we’re back at full tilt. It’s just beautifully done.
If this is a direct sequel to Mickey’s Monkey, it’s so much more relatable: it’s Mickey’s Monkey if that song had a heart, a soul, reaching out for something it can’t quite grasp. Smokey is at the centre of this record in the same way he wasn’t even present on Mickey’s Monkey: his heart is broken, and so, bereft of options, he’s doing what he does to see him through: he’s going out and carrying on as normal. He wants to dance until he forgets his pain, and he wants us to dance with him. It’s a good enough dance record that we will, too, and when it’s over we’ll have had a good time – but goodness me, it’s been emotional.
MOTOWN JUNKIES VERDICT
(I’ve had MY say, now it’s your turn. Agree? Disagree? Leave a comment, or click the thumbs at the bottom there. Dissent is encouraged!)
You’re reading Motown Junkies, an attempt to review every Motown A- and B-side ever released. Click on the “previous” and “next” buttons below to go back and forth through the catalogue, or visit the Master Index for a full list of reviews so far.
(Or maybe you’re only interested in Smokey Robinson & the Miracles? Click for more.)
The Supremes “Standing At The Crossroads Of Love” |
The Miracles “Such Is Love, Such Is Life” |
DISCOVERING MOTOWN |
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Gordon Frewin said:
One of my personal all-time favourite Motown groovers… and a definite 10 with me. The B-side’s something special, too.
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Dave L said:
I guessed right on the nose this time; I’d thought you’d give it an 8. 🙂 Well done.
I love this song as a celebration of friendship, which it is, as much and more as it’s another tale of love that didn’t last.
Thwarted again in romance, but with no false pride, Smokey beseeches his friends to cheer him up. And why not? That’s what friends are for, a sympathetic ear, a strong shoulder. Smokey gets what he asks for, and by the end of the record he, his friends, and all of us listening are feeling a lot better about things.
Even at this early stage, Smokey’s slow numbers have already taught us to expect emotional catharsis from them, but I Gotta Dance, party-beat and all, is every bit as nourishing to the spirit. I love it. The HDH beauties are getting better and better and Quicksand is less than a week away.
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michael landes said:
absolutely.
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treborij said:
Awww, I thought you weren’t really going to be too positive on this one. Especially after giving a relative pan to Mickey’s Monkey. I always loved this record and a little bit more than Mickey. The comparison to “You Lost The Sweetest Boy” as far as the groove goes is spot on, although it’s a lot lighter than the gospel rave-up of the Mary Wells track. I especially love the “little bit softer” part where his voice cracks. I can remember when I would first listen to this record, that part gave me chills and then when the backing track during the “turn it up” section rushes back in. Wooooo.
I love what you wrote here. Thanks. It’s nice to see others appreciate this one, too. It’s sort of a forgotten Miracles track.
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Ricky said:
I fell in love with this song when I first heard it. A fabulous Miracles song that I find really a lot better than Mickey Monkey. Although not much noticed as Mickey but just as good. The Funk Brothers tear it up on this track fantastic 10/10
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bogart4017 said:
Up until now i never equated or compared this song with “Mickey’s Monkey”. Even now they’re like two different songs on two different railroad tracks going in the same direction. I don’t even think i’ve ever played the two singles in the same sitting unless they were on the same album (I know but i keep forgetting “I Gotta Dance” is on the “Mickey’s Monkey” Lp).
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Robb Klein said:
I like this slightly better than “Mickey’s Monkey”, but both were major disappointments compared with The Miracles’ sweet sounding songs. I’d give this a “7”, but my average Miracles’ song is a “9”.
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Abbott Cooper said:
After passing through 355 candidates, (not so; I had never heard plenty of the songs leading to this one) I finally happened upon my all-time favorite Motown song. What made me choose one that perhaps no one else in this planet of 4 billion would select? I have no idea. For me, it starts, and ends, with the melody, beginning to end. If the melody is right, you could sing the Toyota manual for a 4-cylinder engine assembly to it, and I would still buy it.What amazes me is how “I Gotta Dance…” has withstood the challenges of the hundreds and hundreds of songs that postdated it and failed to alter my decision. And there were a lot that came close. I am not one of those 110% guys, so I am not going to give it an “11.” A “10” is fitting, only the second one from me since posting my comments. To me, the perfect definition of perfection is when Motown tries to monkey around with a song and still can’t ruin it. To illustrate, in the Miracles Anthology, management had the audacity to substitute the original recording with a remake, this song included, no fewer than 4 times. They messed with this one shortly after the point where every set of lyrics to be found through Googling has it either incorrect or completely missing. According to my ears, the lines, sung by Smokey, go, “Gather round me girls and boys,” (The words “and boys” are buried beneath the “Alright” of the rest of the Miracles.) Smokey continues, “I think we’re making up too much noise,” (The word “up” is really extraneous, put there for scansion. Thanks, Mr. Nixon; I never knew how to describe that before reading your reviews.) Then Smokey requests, “So get soft.” But in the Anthology version, the Brothers refuse Smokey’s request. They never get soft, or is it “sawft” these days? The band continues at the same volume in a blatant act of defiance. And you know what? I like this version too, especially the piano, because YOU CANNOT WRECK THIS SONG!!! It’s the best. It’s a “10.” OK, a “10” with a ☆.
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Slade Barker said:
This is a 10 for me. I have loved it since I first heard it in the ’70s. It is exquisite and exciting. How can anyone resist???
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