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VIP 25013 (A), December 1964
b/w Throw A Farewell Kiss
(Written by Norman Whitfield, Mickey Stevenson and Edward Holland Jr.)
Stateside SS 387 (A), February 1965
b/w Throw A Farewell Kiss
(Released in the UK under license through EMI / Stateside Records)
From one extreme to the other, eh?
(Actually, it’s only the rather artificial nature of the way we do things here on Motown Junkies which make this and My Girl seem like oases of brilliance in a sea of mediocre (or worse) releases. In fact, Motown’s late-year splurge of sub-par singles, closing out 1964 by clearing a load of clutter out of its cupboards, happened over the course of a couple of weeks, and so this and My Girl really came hot on the heels of a run of fantastic 45s. Talk about your “Golden Age” right here. But I digress.)
I love the Velvelettes. Really, I do.
For weeks now, I’ve had to look at my review of Needle In A Haystack, the girls’ Motown début proper, and bite my lip (and my tongue) because that piece only really tells half the story: the first half. By talking about that one without talking about this one, it’s like me going to a show and then walking out during the intermission. The missing half, the one where the audience gets all the answers and things finally start to make sense, is here.
In a nutshell, Needle In A Haystack is the prequel, the overture, the appetiser. He Was Really Sayin’ Somethin’ is the main course. It’s also magnificent.
A MATCH MADE IN KALAMAZOO (VIA HARLEM)
The Velvelettes, the least heralded and least recognised of Motown’s truly great groups, were different from their labelmates and stablemates in a number of ways. Where the Supremes and Stevie Wonder were rough-edged city kids, teens from the Detroit projects, where Martha Reeves and the Temptations were tough-skinned Southerners with chips on their shoulders, where the Marvelettes were callow suburban schoolgirls, where the Four Tops were showbiz veterans… well, the Velvelettes were college girls, smart and sophisticated characters from middle-class family backgrounds, hailing from Flint and Kalamazoo, far enough away from Motown to be classed as outsiders to begin with; their labelmates didn’t need much encouragement to view them with some suspicion.
Some of that was their own fault, too; even after their big break, signing to the label just as things went stratospheric, they refused to compromise on their educational commitments and spent most of their time away from Hitsville, travelling to Detroit for recording dates only when absolutely (contractually!) necessary, unable to tour or to join package shows. In hindsight, this lost time would prove to be gone forever, the gap to their peers which opened up in their absence ultimately unbridgeable. The Velvelettes never had a US Top 40 hit, never had an album, never really “broke” in the way their talent and repertoire deserved.
But it’s no surprise to hear that the music industry is a tough and fickle place, demanding absolute commitment and then laughing in your face even when you provide it. (And the Velvelettes themselves, still friends and still touring together today, don’t seem to bear any grudges about never having become superstars.)
No, the surprise is that the Velvelettes’ outsider status ended up playing in their favour, or rather in ours. Because they were unknown – and, let’s face it, unwanted – at Motown, where the head of A&R (their one-time advocate Mickey Stevenson) was unable or unwilling to look after them on their rare visits to the studio, they ended up being shunted to a similarly lesser-known writer-producer, a stroppy New York City loudmouth who’d been annoying the top brass with his consistently strongly-worded demands he be allowed to take over the Temptations. (The same Temptations who were currently racking up unprecedented hits under the aegis of Motown vice-president Smokey Robinson, one of Motown owner Berry Gordy’s closest friends. Dream on, mate.)
Norman Whitfield would go on to be one of the all-time greats, but at the time, he was without a project, and Motown probably figured they could shut him up for a bit if they handed him creative control of that misfit out-of-town girl group, ostensibly giving both parties an opportunity to prove themselves before moving on up the Hitsville food chain, but more likely in reality just keeping them all out of the way.
If it’s doubtful Whitfield was particularly thrilled at the idea of being told to bugger off and hone his craft on a bunch of unknowns, it’s equally doubtful the girls (who had probably never even heard of him) were impressed at their being assigned to a moody, intense guy with few hits under his belt but a growing reputation as an impatient perfectionist. And yet from such unpromising beginnings was born a partnership of real, actual musical genius.
Motown’s best writer-producers at the time put most of their focus on the first half of that equation. Norman Whitfield was really the label’s first producer-writer, a man more interested in the sonic possibilities of the studio environment than sitting up all night thinking of chord progressions. Oh, he was a quite brilliant tunesmith too, no doubt about that, just as Smokey or Holland and Dozier were excellent producers. But Whitfield’s passion for studio experimentation, making sure he knew exactly what every single button, knob and slider did on every single piece of equipment available, timing things to the microsecond, demanding intangible things like more funk and harder soul and make it warmer from his vocalists and musicians, running everyone through take after take after take after take after take in pursuit of the sound he wanted…? That was new.
So it’s understandable, in a way, that Whit would use the unknown Velvelettes as a kind of test bed, a laboratory for his ideas on where pop music was going as 1964 drew to a close. He’d do the same with the similarly-unknown Undisputed Truth seven years later, and indeed when he finally got his hands on the Temptations gig he’d do it with them too, to the point where both the group and their fans (not to mention critics) balked at him turning them into his personal plaything. But with the Velvelettes, he struck gold in a way he couldn’t have imagined.
The Velvelettes were clever enough to see what he was trying to do, and to help him make his half-formed ideas reality on tape. That much was clear right from the start. Their first 7″ collaboration, Needle In A Haystack, is a better concept on paper than it is on vinyl, where it struggles under the weight of its own ambition, Whitfield and the Velvelettes attempting to assimilate the best bits of twenty different records into one hyper-compressed whole. The idea, and this is obvious to everyone who’s ever listened to Needle In A Haystack, was to marry the driving rhythms of Motown’s 4/4 R&B-pop sound with the insouciant, sassy singalong feel of a New York girl group stomper. Doo-lang, sha-la-la-la.
Opinion seems to be strongly divided on whether they managed to pull it off. For me, it doesn’t quite work; the splicing isn’t quite right, so it remains the sound of two different songs grafted on to each other in a slightly clumsy fashion. They’re two splendid pop songs, of course, but each element of super-cool R&B-power pop ends up sucking energy away from the other, and the feeling I’m left with at the end of Needle In A Haystack is that the operation to add girl group smiles and sneers to Motown’s rapidly-forming rhythm template wasn’t a success; the transplant was rejected by the host.
THE (TWISTED) WHEEL KEEPS ON TURNING
But that’s where this record comes in. As it turns out, Needle In A Haystack was a first experiment, a tentative step, a proof of concept before the real work begins. People have taken those initial signs of success, the trappings of a great record, and so taken Needle In A Haystack to their hearts, and more power to them. But both the Velvelettes and Norman Whitfield recognised there was more work to be done, and they both set about knuckling down to do it again, and do it better. And that’s how He Was Really Sayin’ Somethin’ was made. And it’s brilliant.
This is an immaculately constructed record. There’s perhaps no better possible illustration of the Velvelettes’ unknown greatness than this one, not just because they’re so good here (and they are) but because they make it sound so easy.
But it’s not just the girls that make this. The rhythm bed, underpinned with a shaken tambourine that’s almost metronomic in its precision and yet at the same time filled with chitlin-circuit menace and guts, has the kind of perfection that only comes with both total genius and a lot of effort. The best horn arrangements yet seen on a Motown single (and you know there weren’t dozens of takes available to get this right – demanding taskmaster or not, Whitfield was still a second-tier producer running a session cutting a throwaway single on an unknown no-hit group), used so very judiciously, from that opening punch in the face to the blaring ship’s horn that keeps the chorus afloat to the closing rollercoaster-on-rails growl to take us out of the song, and weighed out parcel-perfect in a way Holland-Dozier-Holland could only dream of. It’s perfect, and it sounds effortless – but in a bizarre way that also lets you know it didn’t come easy, and now it’s basking in the satisfied glow of a job well done.
Whitfield also managed to bring in Eddie Holland, who he’d palled around with for a bit during his earliest days at Motown, as his lyricist, writing partner and sounding board. It’s endlessly tempting to wonder how many of Whitfield’s ideas were absorbed, consciously or otherwise, by Holland during these sessions before he went back to his “day job” with the Holland-Dozier-Holland trio, but what’s more certain is that in 1965 the rhythm tracks on a whole lot more Motown hits would start sounding like Whitfield and the Velvelettes. But there’s an argument that however excellent the songwriters and producers, however talented the magical drummers, tambourine-bashers, maraca-shakers and hand-clappers in the Snakepit, nobody ever got them to sound quite as good as Norman and the girls from Kalamazoo.
Now, this would probably still sound good without such a great band track, because the song’s a strong one, full of hooks and with an excellently whistle-able tune. (Indeed, in 1982, Bananarama proved that with a perfectly acceptable rendition.) But even though the song is good and the Velvelettes’ vocals here are superb (of which more in a moment), the true greatness of He Was Really Sayin’ Somethin’…
(that punctuation is a bit annoying, though not as annoying as the spelling mistake on the label – but I digress again)
…the true greatness of this record is that all the pieces are fitted together so beautifully, it’s like a sculpture, or an intricate wood carving slotted together from many separate pieces, but so neatly and so tightly that you can’t see the joins, can’t even feel them if you run your finger over the seams you know must be there. That’s craftsmaship. That’s genius.
AND SPEAKING OF GENIUS
The vocals here are the piece de resistance. The backing voices are great, providing the exact perfect mix of streetwise sass and prim prissiness not only to carry off the Motown-meets-girl-group role perfectly this time out (complete with absolute killer gibberish scat hook, Bop bop suki doo wah da, bop bop suki doo wah, as found in all the best girl group records, which (as the girls’ last outing had shown) requires that precise mix to work), but also to sell the unique atmosphere of the song, which puts an awful lot of weight on the shoulders of lead singer Cal Gill. Luckily, she can take it, not just because she’s a good frontwoman, but because she’s smart.
The song is a story of a young woman who’s palpably not an idiot, but nonetheless falls for the charms of some wisecracking charmer who won’t leave her alone (essentially, he is Shorty Long). Cal Gill is SO GOOD at this. Her delivery is something special indeed, bringing the best of Martha Reeves and Mary Wells to the table, lapsing between singing and talking so smoothly you don’t even notice she’s been doing it – there are masterclasses to be taught just purely on the way she bridges the verse and chorus with a leap-the-stave exclamation of “Girls!” which carries the weight of the entire song – but as it happens, her acting is the real treat.
As Cal addresses her friends to tell them all about what’s happened – probably the same friends from Needle In A Haystack – we’re invited to share this story as she both justifies herself and then proceeds to make them jealous, all over a guy we never get to meet. Her knowing, arched eyebrow right at the end, the deliciously scandalous way she pronounces her words – “Ladylike it may not be / But he moved me tremendously“ – pushes this right on into my all-time top Motown records. I’m willing to bet that wasn’t even in the script to begin with. Close your eyes, you can SEE Norman Whitfield and Eddie Holland cracking up in the booth as she does that. Now see if you can imagine the amount of coaching it would take Diana Ross to pull off the same kind of trick, and how wooden it would end up sounding.
Like I said: genius.
There’s nothing I’d change about this, not one single second. In this glorious year of amazing records, the very last Motown single of 1964 turns out to be quite possibly the best one yet. And I’m not actually sure it’s even my favourite Velvelettes record. Yeah, they’re that good.
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 The Velvelettes? Click for more.)
Howard Crockett “The Miles” |
The Velvelettes “Throw A Farewell Kiss” |
DISCOVERING MOTOWN |
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The Nixon Administration said:
…also, how great a lyric is “With his collar unbuttoned / By my side he was strutt’n”?
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Landini said:
Yeah pretty cool lyric. I had the Marvelettes version (which isn’t too shabby) going in the car the other day. I was singing along & changed it to ” With MY collar unbuttoned by HER side I was struttin” LOL Later, I “walked HER to her door…”)
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Bob Harlow said:
This is my favorite single by the Velvelettes. Great intro,cool vocals and what a production!
In my opinion It held up over time better than “Needle In A Haystack” Agree with Nixon… One of the best Motowns of 1964.
I can’t quite put it up there with “My Girl” , “My Guy” or “Baby I Need Your Loving”
but almost …9/10
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Mark V said:
Masterful essay that brought a smile to my face! This is a great record!
This is the second version of the song. Three weeks earlier, Whitfield and the group cut a first attempt that kept one foot in the “overture” phase of the Velvelettes’ career. In fact it took a step backward from the energy of “Needle in a Haystack” while retaining some of that record’s trappings.
The second attempt shows how Whitfield and Cal Gill rethought–really, re-felt–the material to yield the version that made it to the 45.
That first version can be heard on the Velvelettes’ “Motown Anthology” but I would urge anybody’s who is interested to first listen to the final version with Nixon’s comments in mind. Only then take a listen to the first version if only to see how the creative process took hold.
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144man said:
If “Needle In A Haystack” had been a bigger hit, no doubt the earlier version would have been thought good enough for single release. To my mind the earlier version sounds like a Motown record, the released version like a girl group record. I love them both equally.
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Dave L said:
Oh my God, do I pray the Velvelettes are reading this. This review is exactly the love letter they’ve gone without for decades. You could not have put more heart or studiousness in your case, Nixon.
Don’t be looking for me to argue against this 10. This was and always will be a kick-ass great record. If any point is worth regretting here it’s that The Velvelettes don’t even get a first album until 1999. But with heroic advocates like the leader of Motown Junkies, more clouds part and The Velvelettes are further out the shade that’s been on them too long.
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Landini said:
Bop Bop Suki do wah is right! What a great record. Just a good time dancer! Love the piano opening & the whole production. I think it is amazing that the lead singer admits she isn’t being “ladylike”. How many times do you hear that in one of today’s songs? I was sick in bed yesterday so it is nice to come back to a fun, upbeat song! Am feeling a bit better today! Cheers to all my Motown friends!
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The Nixon Administration said:
Get well soon Landini!
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Landini said:
Thank you my friend!
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Nick in Pasadena said:
This is one my top ten all-time favorite Motown records. Just brilliant! One of the best intros ever, hands down. And Cal’s great “all ri-ight now” between the “bop bop suki do wa”s.I never tire of hearing it!
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John Plant said:
Like many others, I discovered this song through the Marvelettes’ glorious pink album, and didn’t hear the original until decades later. I couldn’t concur more heartily with the 10; this is indeed a member of that very select company. There is a wonderful elusive flavour to Cal Gill’s voice, like a very very dry red wine – and indeed the taste only improves with time. I do think you underestimate its predecessor, but this one certainly tops it. And Landini, this song certainly has the medicinal qualities to hasten a full and vigorous recovery. Thanks for the brilliant essay, Steve. When Cambridge or Oxford or Harvard creates a chair in Motownology, I trust it will be named after you!
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Mary Plant said:
I had been wondering which planet I had been on that I didn’t know that this was the orginal version of HWRSS, but I’m happy to see that my brother was laboring under the same delusion. It’s a glorious song and the Velvelettes totally nail it – and now bop bop suki do wah is going through my head, where it will no doubt stay all day! There are worse fates, for sure. It sure beats the jackhammers outside my office. I hope you’re feeling better, Landini! And thanks Steve, once again!
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Landini said:
John & Mary, thank you for your kind thoughts re. my health. I have been taking chemo for the past few months for a cancer that has recurred. Most of my “sick feelings” actually come from the chemo treatments, though I know many people taking them who have it much worse. Always a joy to spend some time with my Motown friends!
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Ron Leonard said:
I remember buying this 45 as one of the 3 for 99 Cents from Woolworths..Each 45 had a hole in the label and were enclosed in plastic..As far as this song, I had never heard this one on the radio..Too bad, Bop Bop Suki Do Wah I didn’t hear until probably 1967. And yes, what a classic Motown intro. However, “Needle in A Haystack” I did hear in it’s first run. Thank you Nixon again for another in depth review and this outlet for us, the Motown Junkies!! This drug is legal!!
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Robb Klein said:
Where did you live back then, Ron? Like “Needle in a Haystack”, this was also a hit everywhere I traveled at that time (Chicago, Detroit, Milwaukee, St, Louis, Indianapolis, Los Angeles, San Francisco, London, Hamilton, Toronto. Did you only listen to “pop” stations, and NOT R&B/Soul (e,g, Black Community) stations?
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Ron Leonard said:
I grew up here in Oregon and my teen years were in Salem Oregon, the capitol. Portland Or was the largest city about 45 miles to the north. The local radio station in 1967 was playing alot of Motown..They were playing songs like, “Love Bug Leave My Heart Alone”, ‘Honey Chile” both of course by Martha And The Vandella, ‘The Hunter gets Captured By The Game” Marvellettes, “You Keep Running Away” “7 Rooms Of Gloom” Four Tops so on and so forth..I believed it depended on the Music Director of the local station..Obviously loved Motown!!
My self, at around 21 years of age began my radio broadcasting career where I was very blessed to work at some great radio stations through my tenure. KFRC in San Francisco was one of them..I worked at quite a few Oldies stations. By the way, there were no R&B stations where I grew up…For me, Motown has standed the test of time!! My collection is huge. Thanks for asking!
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Robb Klein said:
The fact that you had no R&B/Soul radio stations to listen to, and, really no “experimental” pop station (like KEWB in San Francisco Bay Area-which played a lot of non-chart and low chart songs/artists) shows us why you never heard “He Was Really Sayin’ Something” on the radio.
Around the beginning of the 1970s, I used to work in Seattle/Portland for a few years (living in Bellevue, Wash. and working as an economist for Native American and Native Canadian Tribes. I worked for The Umatilla Tribe (near Pendleton), on a project for a Methanol facility (from wheat growing), and with The Yakima Tribe and a few of the coastal tribes in Washington and B.C. I also worked on the I-5 bridge widening (over The Columbia River Bridge) project.
So, I know something about the area. I used to look for records in all the Portland/Salem thrift shops and record shops (as well as all those in Vancouver, BC and Seattle/Tacoma area. I also had the great pleasure of seeing The (legendary) Sonics and Wailers play live at Seedro Wooley High School Gym (in 1967!).
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Governor Milton P. Shapp said:
I like this very much- if not a 10 then a 9. It has a cool kind of chanting / drony quality to it- I think because the song consists mostly of 2 chords, and the backing vocals are largely in unison and stay around the same note throughout most of the song. Combined with the irrestible groove provided by the Brothers, the track is kind of like a velvet steamroller moving irresistibly forward, which plays off perfectly against the cool, emotionally reserved singing.
I never knew Cal was singing “ladylike it may not be…”, I like that. And I’m glad to hear the Velvettes are still friends and singing together. Maybe superstardom isn’t all its cracked up to be. I’ll express my opinion about Diana Ross some other time, but on strictly musical terms there’s not one Supremes record that I’d trade for this one.
I liked Bananrama’s version too, though I think they took the cool a little bit farther into “slightly robotic”. Still, it worked pretty well.
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Landini said:
Yes sir Gov, this is a good’un. It took me awhile to realize what Cal was saying as well with the whole “Ladylike” line. I have been listening to the Marvelettes version. They do a pretty good job of the song themselves. I am not brave enough to check out Bananarama’s version, though it is cool that they at least attempted it.
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bogart4017 said:
Its her pronounciation of the word “tremeeendouslly” that slays me. So country and mid-west at the same time. Its also more danceable than “needle” and the sax break takes you back to the early days of rock and roll! As the English say “Its swings like a pendulum do”.
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Kevin Moore said:
I’m going to have to keep listening to see why this is a 10/10. I’m hearing Needle in a Haystack and this one for the first time as a result of this blog. I like them both (the singing and playing more than the actual songs) but so far I prefer Needle, with it’s great Please Please Me-esque vocal harmony where one voice moves while the other stays on one note. I’ll give them time to grow on me and see what y’all are raving about.
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Robb Klein said:
Kevin, I assume that you are fairly young, and have only listened to “Pop” stations. Where and when did you grow up? – and to which radio stations and/or Internet radio did you listen? I remember “Needle In A Haystack” and “He Was Really Sayin’ Somethin’ ” being big hits when they were out. So, it’s hard for me to imagine your having grown up and never heard them. But, as I stopped listening to radio in the late ’60s, other than Jazz stations, I don’t know how the pop stations chose “oldies” to play, or even if they played them. I only listened to Nederland 3 “The Soul Show” in the 1970s, and they played ’60s “Oldies mixed in with current Soul songs. I only listened ton R&B stations from the time I started visiting Chicago, and after moved there. But, In did hear pop station WLS there, when in the car with some of my family and their friends. And, during the 1960s, they always played one “oldie” every half hour (’50s and ’60s). The R&B stations played “oldies” that reached all the way back into the 1940s.
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Abbott Cooper said:
Yes, I believe that Kevin is a “youngn” by our standards, which led to a debate I had with myself over whether it was better to have been around during those glory days of Motown and be forced to wait, week after week, month after month, and year after year anticipating what each new release would sound like, or to be born much later and have all those 1,900+ single tracks plus the album cuts that never appeared on singles dumped on us in one gigantic avalanche of fantastically splendid musical achievement. What I love about this site is that it brings together members of both of the above categories for the common purpose of sharing our enjoyment of this music.
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Brock said:
This is an INCREDIBLE REVIEW! I am instantly hooked….can’t wait to read the rest. I saw the video tonight at a restaurant in Philly, knew this great song but not the group, surfed my way to this revelation. THANK YOU!
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144man said:
“The Velvelettes are one of the most exciting of the newer groups with the Motown Record Corp., and their latest disc certainly maintains the high standard of Needle In A Haystack. Top side is a real groover with tambourine and piano prominent from the word go, and the overall feel is neat and cool, with a sax break midway that adds to the overall delicious funky feel. 4/5
“Flip is a very nice slow ballad with good lyrics and a dreamy quality with strong appeal. 3/5”
[Dave Godin, Hitsville U.S.A. 2, 1965]
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Slade Barker said:
Just one minor correction. (I agree with you that “He Was Really Saying Something” is fantastic; equally great as the perfect “Needle In a Haystack, as a matter of fact — zing!) While it’s technically true that Diana Ross & the other original Supremes grew up in a housing project, they were not poor girls growing up in the ghetto — AT ALL. By the standards of most black Detroiters at that time, their families were doing really well. This was a very middle class, pleasant development at the time, little or not crime or danger, and they were middle class girls. This was the thriving pre-riots Detroit, mind you. It makes a better legend to describe them as slum kids, and so that’s where the publicists always went. But it’s been solidly disproven. These girls were almost as upscale as the Velvelettes.
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