There must be a God because she let me see Martha and The Vandellas three times in the ‘60s. Twice at the Howard Theater in Washington, D.C. as the opening act for Otis Redding on one occasion, the second time later as the opening act for Percy Sledge. Both were matinee performances. After the Sledge session was over my friends and I went across the street to Waxie Maxie's Record Store (which sold only soul and r&b records), and I noticed this sleek sports car, a convertible, parked across the street. I was pointing it out to my friends when Martha herself walked up to the car and sat in the front seat. I yelled, “Hi Martha!” And she turned to me, smiling and waving as the car sped off. A very cool moment.
In 1969 I hitchhiked from NC to VA to watch a friend play a college football game. I took a tab of orange acid (the best) with me to drop the night of the game — my friend was in a fraternity and asked me to attend. Plus, they had a local band.
It sounded boring. I dropped the tab and wandered around the campus, eventually encountering two other guys on acid. They recommended that I get a date and go to the Homecoming main event: an appearance by Martha and The Vandellas. I couldn’t get in without a date, since I wasn’t a student there; so I went to a girls dorm and asked the girl at the desk for help.
She could tell right away that I was tripping and said she’d help. She got on the intercom and announced that there was a guy in the lobby who needed a date for the concert. A minute later a girl entered the lobby, grabbed my arm, and said, “Let’s go.”
When we got there the opening act was just finishing their set: Rhinoceros. I was the only person I ever knew who had their album, much less had ever heard of them. Playboy Magazine had given the band's album a positive review, but the album was completely stupid. One good song, though. An instrumental.
But Martha and The Vandellas appeared next almost immediately; I think so anyway. They looked really beautiful. Tripping on my favorite acid will make almost anything fantastic, but this was one of my favorite bands ever; and I took in every note. The lighting bathed them in blue or red for most of the set.
After a half hour or so of an excellent set Martha was convinced that they’d forgotten a song, but she couldn’t think of what it was. The Vandellas were sure they’d covered all the classics. A band member called Martha over and whispered to her. She laughed and walked to the mic and said, “We forgot to sing ‘Jimmy Mack’!” The show rolled on.
My date and I never spoke to each other once during the show, and she split long before the set was over. I left the auditorium and spent the rest of the night at the fraternity house. That's another story.
There must be a God because she let me see Martha and The Vandellas three times in the ‘60s. Twice at the Howard Theater in Washington, D.C. as the opening act for Otis Redding on one occasion, the second time later as the opening act for Percy Sledge. Both were matinee performances. After the Sledge session was over my friends and I went across the street to Waxie Maxie's Record Store (which sold only soul and r&b records), and I noticed this sleek sports car, a convertible, parked across the street. I was pointing it out to my friends when Martha herself walked up to the car and sat in the front seat. I yelled, “Hi Martha!” And she turned to me, smiling and waving as the car sped off. A very cool moment.
In 1969 I hitchhiked from NC to VA to watch a friend play a college football game. I took a tab of orange acid (the best) with me to drop the night of the game — my friend was in a fraternity and asked me to attend. Plus, they had a local band.
It sounded boring. I dropped the tab and wandered around the campus, eventually encountering two other guys on acid. They recommended that I get a date and go to the Homecoming main event: an appearance by Martha and The Vandellas. I couldn’t get in without a date, since I wasn’t a student there; so I went to a girls dorm and asked the girl at the desk for help.
She could tell right away that I was tripping and said she’d help. She got on the intercom and announced that there was a guy in the lobby who needed a date for the concert. A minute later a girl entered the lobby, grabbed my arm, and said, “Let’s go.”
When we got there the opening act was just finishing their set: Rhinoceros. I was the only person I ever knew who had their album, much less had ever heard of them. Playboy Magazine had given the band's album a positive review, but the album was completely stupid. One good song, though. An instrumental.
But Martha and The Vandellas appeared next almost immediately; I think so anyway. They looked really beautiful. Tripping on my favorite acid will make almost anything fantastic, but this was one of my favorite bands ever; and I took in every note. The lighting bathed them in blue or red for most of the set.
After a half hour or so of an excellent set Martha was convinced that they’d forgotten a song, but she couldn’t think of what it was. The Vandellas were sure they’d covered all the classics. A band member called Martha over and whispered to her. She laughed and walked to the mic and said, “We forgot to sing ‘Jimmy Mack’!” The show rolled on.
My date and I never spoke to each other once during the show, and she split long before the set was over. I left the auditorium and spent the rest of the night at the fraternity house. That's another story.
“Can’t forget the Motor City.”
Goddamn I love this track.
I go cruising in my ‘64 orange and black Plymouth Fury through Detroit, my hometown, and I feel cooler than Miles Davis.