Where Did All The R&B and Hip Hop Groups Go? By Sheldon Taylor
Its 2020 and post-millennial Black music is officially in its second decade. See it strut down a industry catwalk draped in shimmering highlights of the past decade: Hip-hop's comet-like ascent showered the galaxy with brand-new stars. Female power brokers ascended to the corporate throne to assume stewardship over urban music.
The airy minimalism of new R&B queens Jhene Aiko, SZA, Ella Mai, H.E.R. and Teyanna Taylor have supplanted the full-throat melisma of Jessica Hudson and Fantasia. Solange's A Seat of the Table (2016) moved her out of big sister's shadow for good.
Oozing Minnie and Donny's eclectic moody blues, Marvin's stacked vocals, Stevie's brooding contemplation and Aaliyah's seductive whisper (hear: Borderline and "Jerrod"), Seat's topical heat joined Common's fiery Black America Again (2016) and Kendrick Lamar twin-heat master works To Pimp A Butterfly (2014) and Damn (2017) were sonic sound bombs dropped in the middle of the don't shoot/say her name/I can't breathe era.
Recalling the best of Black 70s protest music---the Black Album was back in a big way.
Futuristic crooners The Weekend, Khalid, Anderson Paak and Chris Brown---now in his fifteenth year(!) sit atop the R&B heap. Traditional R&B male crooners were hardest hit. Label downsizing and loss of big budgets plagued late 90s/early 2000s icons, banishing them to R&B purgatory similar to the 70s/80s singers that they edged out the game.
A few savvy soul men went the independent route. Others hit the tour circuit. Rolling with the punches like Ali, they bobbed and weaved against an invisible industry opponent, living to fight another day thanks to a loyal fan base.
Twenty years into his resurrection, Wilson still sells out shows and churns out hit albums and singles with the creative vigor of a man forty years younger. Gentrifying an rban AC market long considered an R&B graveyard---Wilson transformed it into a favorable (and final) destination for contemporary R&B performers thriving in decades past.
Lizzo and Lil Nas X revived the bawdy flamboyance of Black music's past and emerged as unlikely superstars. In a male-dominated hip hop climate, reigning rap queens Nicki Minaj and Cardi B held their own while sparking a new generation of female emcees. Drake was crowned king of the streaming era, racking up 35 top 10 singles in a decade.
Off-kilter singles like Old Town Road blurred genre lines while demonstrating durable staying power. Kanye West's prolific productions were more akin to yesteryear's 45 single than yesterday's bloated CD, featuring songs barely creeping beyond the three minute mark.
Chameleon-like creativity aside, something's still missing: R&B and hip-hop groups.
Back in the days when R&B revolved around its own orbit, groups were Black music's life force: there was Cameo's tongue-in-cheek humor. Earth Wind and Fire's spiritual-minded loftiness. There were bottom-heavy beats from Zapp along with Shalamar's slick rhythms. The Bar-Kays were like human samplers replicating the hottest sounds of the day.
George Clinton was P-Funk's face but Fred Wesley's Horny Horns, Bootsy Collins funky bass and Bernie Worrell's Moog synths were what aspiring musicians were checking for. Ears of funk fans were tuned to a razor sharp edge---they knew the difference between BT Express and Brass Construction. Decades before sampling, they were hip to the fact that Rick James (Bustin' Out) and the Gap Band's (Oops Upside Your Head) horn riffs were Fred Wesley jacks and copped from The Brides of Funkenstein's Disco To Go (1978).
R&B bands maintained a grueling schedule, usually dropping an album every year before hitting the road. These lineups consisted of a rhythm and horn section that could expand up to ten members. Crossover hits were rare but support from core fans was enough. Aspiring singers could be found on street corners and at any place with an echo imitating harmonies of suited-and-booted vocal groups they idolized.
The bitter venom spewed by Leon's David Ruffin character in his classic scene from the Temptations biopic ("Ain't nobody coming to see you Otis! I'm the best thing to happen to this group! Ya'll just a group in search of a David Ruffin!") was burned in the brains of generations weaned on the era of the solo star.
On 1992's The Chronic, Snoop Dogg offered his own indictment: "You without me is like Harold Melvin without the Blue Notes. You'll never go platinum!"
Actually, standup vocal groups were a package deal. There was usually a leader steering the ship. There was the dynamic front man/lead singer and the cat with the onstage gift of gab who charmed the audience. Then there was the fly ladies man---usually a light-skinned brother with a falsetto/high tenor along with the wardrobe man and choreographer. Groups like the Dramatics and the Blue Notes were a soulful sum always greater than its parts.
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| Giving the people what they want: The OJays (1975) |
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| So cool: The Time (1982) |
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| Dropping outstanding funk bombs: The Gap Band (1983) |
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Solid as a rock: Ashford and Simpson (1978) |
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| Family affair: The Sylvers (1976) |
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| In the place to be: Full Force (1986) |
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| Before music videos, the album covers like the ones from Lakeside were crucial to a band's brand. |
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| Quincy's platinum proteges: The Brothers Johnson (1977) |
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Ohio Funk's 2nd generation: Midnight Star and The Deele Transatlantic R&B queens: The Three Degrees (1973) |
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| Scientists of sound, mathematically putting it down: Kool and the Gang (1974) |
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| True (Ohio) players: 1977 |
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| Slave: 1981 |
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| Sailing on: The Commodores (1979) |
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| Sisters with voices: Sister Sledge (1979) |
So where did all the groups go? To answer that question, let's go back. Way back. Was technology responsible for killing off expensive horn, rhythm and string sections? Yup. Did internal disagreements and implosions cause lead singers Teddy Pendergrass, Lionel Richie and Jeffrey Osborne to leave their groups for greener pastures? Absolutely.
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| Teddy Pendergrass: playing the back in 1975. |
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| TP: Flying solo circa '76. |
Could it be that instrumental-based funk lineups had become secondary to the lead singer? Did stress and financial strain push acts like Kool and the Gang to their fiscal brink or cause band leaders Maurice White (Earth Wind and Fire) and Larry Blackmon (Cameo) to close ranks or trimmed down their rosters? Maybe.
Whether you mourn the loss of soulful 70s smooth harmonies and funky brass-constructed anthems or lament the absence of 80s synth jams or 90s R&B, the final forensic report still reads the same: Black music's communal tradition has been wiped clean like prints at a tampered crime scene.
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| Cameo in 1978. |
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| Cameo in 1982. |
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| Cameo in 1986. |
Evidence points to one man---Michael Jackson.
Ironically, the 80s would make room for American and British acts emulating the Motown sound of the Funk Brothers (see: ABC, Katrena and the Waves and Phil Collins ) or Jamaican reggae groups (see: Culture Club) but few R&B bands (see: Kool and the Gang) would survive in this new climate. Earth Wind and Fire's Philip Bailey summed this new climate up:
"Earth, Wind and Fire dominated their era with spectacular concert events but Michael Jackson did his through the multimedia age through people's TV sets."
The irony of it all is that Jackson's career was birthed from the R&B group concept. He fronted the mighty Jackson Five lineup that released seven albums between 1969-1971 that would hit the twenty-million mark in sales. When their debut album Diana Ross Presents The Jackson Five was released on December 18, 1969, it flew out of record stores and followed their debut single I Want You up the charts to #1. Over the next year---52 weeks to be exact---The Jackson Five would own 3o of them, releasing a string of singles and albums that lived at the top of the charts.
It's hard to envision a music landscape without a New Edition, Chris Brown or Beyonce. That's what life was like for an under-served Black teen market before the Jackson Five touched down fifty years ago. Music manna from heaven, the J-5 were destined to become the career point of entry for every future Black boomer and Gen-X entertainer/media personality born roughly between 1954-1969.
Down in Tennessee, sixteen-year old Oprah Winfrey swooned over big brother Jackie as she watched the group's now-legendary performance on the Ed Sullivan Show. At Indiana's Market Square Arena, eleven-year old Kenny "Babyface" Edmonds was mesmerized by the group's slick stagecraft. When the J-5 played New York City's Madison Square Garden, eight year-old Lenny Kravitz was in the crowd. Long before Joey Simmons and Darryl McDaniels rocked crowds as Run-DMC, Diana Ross Presents The Jackson Five was their favorite album as kids growing in pre-hip-hop Queens.
Revisionists brand the Jackson clan as "first boy band." Blasphemous. The truth was that they were a super group responsible for birthing future generations of young stars. They were a tapestry woven from the fabric of R&B royalty---the sibling soul of the Isley Brothers, the Temptations' precision and high-pitched harmonies of their Philly Soul heroes the Delphonics. Soaking up the Beatles' pop sensibilities and the blue-eyed soul of Three Dog Night and Blood, Sweat and Tears, the J-5 were firmly anchored in the group concept.
Before Motown's Berry Gordy took the creative (and commercial) wheel (see back-to-back number ones ABC, The Love You Save and I'll Be There), producer Bobby Taylor's curation of covers/originals placed MJ's dynamic lead, Jackie's piercing falsetto, Jermaine's gritty baritone, Tito's booming bass and Marlon's middle tenor in a soulful vocal capsule.
Nobody's groovy fast break captures the group's collective harmonies best. On Smokey's Who's Lovin You, Stevie's My Cherie Amour and the Delfonics' Can You Remember they deliver soulful convictions of singers twice their age. Ditto for the Four Tops' Standing In The Shadow of Love.
The J-5 burst on the scene just as Sly and the Family Stone's racial/gender-blending ensemble was in the middle of their reign as music's hottest band. Their debut album ran deep with Sly influences. I Want You Back mimicked the Family Stone's round-robin vocals. Decades before hip hop/R&B's mix-and-match interpolation, MJ and Tito delivered a dead-on imitation of Family Stoners Cynthia Robinson and Larry Graham weaving Sing A Simple Song into Disney gem Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah.
The J-5's Stand! rendition matches the intensity of Sly's original thanks to Michael's boyish soprano and Jermaine's sandpaper vocals. As Michael and Jermaine glide over Born to Love You, their undeniable chemistry conjures up images of Sam and Dave's double dynamite and James Brown and Bobby Byrd's soul power.
The Jacksons practically lived on the cover of Right On! back in the 70s. Write-ups, posters and pics were equally devoted to each group member. They were always cast as a package deal. Years later we picked apart their legacy like cotton and tobacco from slavery's past, chaining ourselves to the idea that Black music's greatest moments began with the solo act.
In came the endless Tito jokes and unfair depictions of the brothers as a minor supporting cast languishing in the shadow of MJ's artistic genius.
There's a reason that MJ rode with Q and his crew for three straight albums. It's the reason why Prince's Revolution-era is considered his greatest musical period and Maze comes before Frankie Beverly. It's why Marvin and Stevie's classic albums were created in tandem with others. Ron Isley's pillow-soft vocals was the centerpiece but it was baby brothers Ernie, Marvin and Chris who transformed the Isleys into a 70s and 80s hit-making machine by composing, writing and playing on all the hits. Long story short: No man is an island.
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| Brooklyn's Finest Mandrill: 1973 |
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| P-Funk Prophecy: 1975 |
"The legacy of Blue Magic is New Edition.
There would be no New Edition without Blue Magic."
---Ronnie DeVoe (2017)
Back in '83, Black music was solidly anchored in an adult space. The arrival of New Edition meant 80s R&B kids now had their own version of the Jacksons. Lead singer Ralph Tresvant rode point but make no mistake it was slick stage choreography, Mike Bivins's spoken word passages jacked from 70s R&B love-raps, Ronnie DeVoe's dance prowess and pretty-boy looks and Bobby Brown and Ricky Bell's vocal turns on Jealous Girl, Is This The End and Mr. Telephone Man that built the New Edition brand.
NE's DNA was heavily steeped in Black music's collective tradition. Modeling themselves after 70s soul quintet Blue Magic and local singing groups dominating the Boston talent show circuit, New Edition went from being pre-teen unknowns singing the grown-man funk of LTD's 1978 Holdin' On (When Love is Gone) to morphing into a platinum-selling franchise. Late 80s/early 90s solo success withstanding, it's the light from the NE's marquee that burns brightest.
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| Blue Magic (1974) |
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| Boys to men: R&B's ultimate super group (1996) |
Late 80s/90s R&B groups followed suit. Swaddled in their parents' Saturday morning soundtracks, soul music ran through their veins. They connected the dots between music's past and present. These new jacks swung between original compositions and the classic R&B that they grew up with.
These were the glory days of Guy's slick hip hop/R&B and the salaciousness of H-Town and Silk. SWV and Zhane's ethereal harmonies. The doo-wop/hip-hop of flavor of Color Me Badd's Sex You Up and BlackStreet's masterful background blend on Joy and Don't Leave Me.
Toni Tony Tone! lived up to their billing as true sons of soul, dropping sexy ballads and funky uptempos. Some acts were one-and-done. Others were good for few singles or a couple albums. Some released a string of hit albums and songs that R&B fans scooped up like tumbling dice on the pavement.
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New Jack Swing Kings: Guy (1991) |
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| Salacious Soul: Silk and H-Town (1993) |
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| SWV (1992) |
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| Soul's second coming: Toni Tony Tone (1990) |
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| It Takes Two: Zhane (1997) |
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| Heavy R&B: Blackstreet (1997) |
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| The second coming: Levert (1990) |
EnVogue and Boyz II Men represented the true essence of an R&B group. Coming into the game flaunting their harmonic acapella chops on soul gems Who's Loving You (1960) and It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday (1975), they were a unit in every sense of the word. There were no designated lead singers or frontmen.
Instead of following the model of 60s girl groups, EnVogue shuffled the musical deck. Group harmony lines were lead vocals. When a female lead was necessary, Cindy, Maxine, Terry, and Dawn were all equally capable of injecting songs with a shot of sensual passion or raw power when needed.
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| United: Boyz II Men (1991) |
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| Born to sing: EnVogue (1990) |
"What do you gotta sat about this
a force so strong you can't resist"
---Public Enemy: Too Much Posse (1987)
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| Too Much Posse: PE & the Ninety-Eight Posse (1986) |
In Rakim's Sweat The Technique memoir, he reveals the origins of his legendary aloofness from his golden-era rap god days: "In those days there was so much competitive energy it was impossible to be chummy. I knew that they were thinking about my rhymes and trying to outdo me and take my spot. I wasn't interested in befriending them. My alter ego wanted them to fear me."
These days, that killer instinct has been retired in favor of more fraternal energy courtesy of rap collaborations that are the closet thing to a rap group. From its earliest days, hip hop subscribed to the term strength in numbers. Group names said it all: The Treacherous Three. The Fearless Four. Funky Four Plus One More. The Force MCs/MDs. Borrowing from the Temptations the Pointer Sisters and the Jackson Five, these early stars built their legend as onstage performers, incorporating elements of the Black group tradition: Harmony. Lead and background vocals. Choreography.
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| The Cold Crush Brothers perform one of their legendary routines (1981) |
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| Big Daddy Kane and dancers Scoop and Scrap looked to the James Brown and the Famous Flame for inspiration. |
Before hip-hop cliques like Cash Money, Death Row, and Terror Squad came into focus, rap groups were planted squarely in the frame. A classic line from Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five's Superappin' (1979) epitomized the group's power and unity: "So to prove to ya'll we're second to none/we're gonna make five emcees sound like one!"
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| All for one, one for all: Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five (1982) |
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| Legends in leather: Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five (1983) |
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| In Full Gear: Stetsasonic (1988) |
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| Rap's original ying yang twins: Outkast (2000) |
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| Stoic majesty: Gangstarr (1994) |
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| Rap super group: The Fugees (1996) |
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| Rap's first solo superstar recruited DJ Cut Creator and E Love to form a three-man crew that evoked another Queens trio.. |
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| Hollis Crew: Run-D.M.C (1984) |
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| No Caption Needed: 1988 |
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| Hip-hop architects Whodini introduced rap to platinum's rare air and were the blueprint for the modern rap stage show. |
“The ‘we all can eat, participate and bring that something special everybody has.’ Every nation, state, city, neighborhood, and street has a ‘Runny Ray,’ but there’s no Runny Ray like our Runny Ray!”
---DMC (2020)
Then there were the crews associated with hip-hop groups: the crew. In the mid-eighties they were called the posse--an East Coast term co-opted from rough-and-tumble western flicks now racially corrupted in the same manner that entourage---a French word describing boxer Sugar Ray Robinson's travel companions would be in years to come.
Since rap music's inception, the crew was a critical component. They protected early groups from overzealous admirers ('back up off the ropes!") and looming stick-up kids out to vic their equipment. When rap concerts came into play, crew members were a necessity. There were no union workers dispatched to stadiums and arenas to support rap acts when they came to town. Crew members were roadies and technicians. They did everything from lighting and wardrobe to filling in for missing group members. When they showed up at the door of independent rap labels to handle money disputes, purse strings got a little bit looser.
Eric B and Rakim were usually flanked by the infamous Paid in Full Posse. Public Enemy were backed up by the mighty the S1Ws or the Strong Island Nine-Eight Posse. Grandmaster Flash had EZ Mike and Disco Bee holding him down behind the wheels of steel. Run-DMC enlisted the support of Runny Ray, Hurricane and other members of the Hollis Crew.
During rap's rough-and-tumble touring years, male testosterone was at a fever pitch. Security was a must on the road. Back then rap money was meager compared to today's standards. It didn't stop rap acts from putting friends and families on the payroll come tour time. At the height of his eighties peak, a twenty-one-year-old Jam Master Jay's generosity to his crew was legendary---even as his long-suffering financial troubles were just around the corner. The benefit was two-fold: as rappers took tentative steps to newfound stardom, crew members were there for moral support every step of the way. Together, they were like Lewis and Clark on a musical expedition, carving out their destinies in a Brand New World.
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| Eric B and Rakim with the Paid In Full Posse (1987) |
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| Still Paid In Full:Eric B and Rakim with crew (1988) |
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| Strong Island in effect: Public Enemy (1990) |
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| Poised for takeover: Public Enemy (1986) |
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| Before there was Wu Tang & Bad Boy there was Hurby Luv Bug's Idolmakers crew (1989) |
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| Together Forever: Run-DMC and the Hollis Crew (1984) |
These days, Black music is still a solo affair. For years, Mint Condition held the line as R&B's last band standing. After nearly thirty years, ten albums, and classic songs, the group is on indefinite hiatus while lead singer Stokley is a couple albums into a solo career. The Roots crew picked up the mantle balancing electrifying stage shows, 17 albums, an annual summer festival with TV work.
Thanks to award shows, there's an occasional group citing. During Jodeci's performance at the 2014 Soul Train Awards, fans were so elated they completely overlooked the fact that the group lip-synched their entire catalog of hits. New Edition's triumphant 2017 BET performance was like the Budweiser Superfest on steroids.
When turbulent waters of industry transition prompted a course correction, Black music found a way to remain afloat during a new Pandora/Apple Music/Tidal wave. Musically compressed and condensed to accommodate current listening and consumption mediums, there's no more room for Mint Condition or Earth Wind and Fire's sprawling creativity or the joy of unearthing a musical gem buried in a song playlist (and not the kind curated by streaming services).
Forty years after MJ's maiden solo voyage, Black music's communal packaging and precious legacy of musicianship is still lost at sea. Like dry bones of a cadaver, only sampled compositions remain to confirm its existence. Periodic "bring back R&B (and real hip hop)" campaigns ring out with a MAGA-like hollowness. If we're really serious about resurrecting a lost era, let's bring back R&B and hip hop groups.
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