Brenda Holloway — “You Can Cry on My Shoulder”: Brace for the Obscure (60s rock)! — August 24, 2024

THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD

1,313) Brenda Holloway — “You Can Cry on My Shoulder”

Underappreciated (by Motown), Brenda Holloway’s angelic voice took my breath away on this Berry Gordy-penned ‘65 A-side. How it only reached #116 is inexplicable, as is how Brenda didn’t become a superstar.

“Wow that’s a beautiful song” (iluvrachellef, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hiZc2WeB0TM&pp=ygUrIEJyZW5kYSBob2xsb3dheSB5b3UgY2FuIGNyeSBvbiBteSBzaG91bGRlcg%3D%3D), “[s]ublime in every way”. (slw59, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hiZc2WeB0TM&pp=ygUrIEJyZW5kYSBob2xsb3dheSB5b3UgY2FuIGNyeSBvbiBteSBzaG91bGRlcg%3D%3D

After posting this blog, I read Motown Junkies’ paean to the song. Not only does MJ love it as much as I do, but says it in a way I could never hope to equal:

[“You Can Cry” is] an astonishing tour de force of a performance, imperiously magnificent . . . . There’s an epic sweep about this, a grand scale that probably did little to endear Brenda to screaming Beatlemaniacs – but they’re not who this is for. More than ever before, Brenda is now being aimed squarely at the grown up market, the sort of “respectable” territory where Motown would later send forth Barbara McNair and even Diana Ross. Here – on the more grandiose, more intricately-detailed first mix (apparently carried out by Brian Holland), at any rate – the move pays off. . . . I adore this record. It restores my faith in Brenda’s judgement, her skillful, sensitive reading, her astonishing deployment of that voice. Of course, it also underlines how much of a sucker I am for big sweeping American torch songs played for melodramatic thrills; this style can get grisly if you mess it up, but when it’s as good as this, the rewards are massive, resulting in a magnificent record, an epic in the best sense. It works because Brenda is so, so good here, better than she’s ever been, maybe better than she ever will be again. Brenda had started her Motown career doing this sort of thing, of course – both “Every Little Bit Hurts” and “I’ll Always Love You”, the sad and happy sides of the same coin, had been slow-burning torch ballads. The style of material had suited Brenda’s big voice off to great effect; a clever lady and a damned good singer, she was nonetheless prone to overcooking a vocal, swinging for the fences on the very first pitch and risking abandoning the tune in the process, and so hooking her up with tunes where that didn’t matter – indeed, where her scarcely-harnessed raw power and that melisma could be an advantage – had made perfect artistic sense. But the public had other ideas, and after “I’ll Always Love You” flopped, Motown pushed her in a different direction, Mary Wells’ cast-offs fitting her like a charity shop prom dress, fundamentally unsuited to her strengths while playing up her weaknesses. . . . [But here,] Berry Gordy doub[ed] down, confident in both his songwriting and his judgment: Brenda’s first sallies as The New Mary Wells had been underwhelming, so let’s go back to Plan A, Brenda the big-voiced MOR/jazz siren for the discerning record buyer, the new face of sophisticated soul. And not just go back, but go back in full effect, throwing all his chips on the table. He had the perfect song for the job, a song that ranks among his and Brenda’s very best. . . . It’s a song, and a performance, of complete desperation, self-effacement to the point where all pride is destroyed; it’s the truest, harshest exploration od the nature of love we’ve heard in months, maybe years, and it is a masterpiece. . . . Imagine the horrific mess that might have ensued, the prospect of an unattractive self-pity party drenched in inappropriate strings. But instead, it goes off perfectly, a missile to the heart that can’t help but leave you gasping. . . . [Q]uite astonishing on every level – this is the standard by which every other all-or-nothing romantic epic should henceforth be judged. Magnificent.

https://motownjunkies.co.uk/2013/07/01/627/

As to Brenda, Steve Huey tells us:

One of the sexiest singers on the Motown label, Brenda Holloway was also one of its grittiest, with a strong gospel influence more typical of Southern soul than the company’s usual polish. . . . Holloway . . . grew up in the Watts section of Los Angeles; as a child, she . . . began singing in church with her younger sister Patrice . . . . Holloway’s first professional recording was made at age 14, backing 12-year-old Patrice on a locally released single. Brenda herself soon began cutting records on several different L.A. labels, and she and her sister also found work as session vocalists.  In 1964, Holloway performed a rendition of . . . “My Guy” at a DJ convention in Los Angeles. Motown founder Berry Gordy happened to be there, and he was so struck by the power of her vocals . . . that he made Holloway his first West Coast signing . . . . Her debut single, “Every Little Bit Hurts,” was an R&B smash that also reached number 12 on the pop charts . . . . [H]er first album [was] released in 1964. Holloway . . . found fans in the Beatles, who gave her an opening slot on their 1965 American tour. She scored several more R&B hits through 1965 . . . . However, Tamla scrapped a follow-up album . . . and Holloway began to feel that she was getting the short end of the stick. She frequently traveled from her home in Los Angeles to record in Detroit, and began to feel that the material she was given wasn’t always up to snuff, perhaps because of her distance. She began to work more on her own writing, often in partnership with her sister, and with a bit of outside help they co-wrote “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy” in 1968. Holloway’s version was a minor R&B hit, but Blood Sweat & Tears turned it into a major pop hit the following year.  Holloway’s second album . . . was finally released in 1968, but that year she announced her retirement from the music business, citing her disillusionment with Motown and her fears of being drawn into the stereotypical hedonistic lifestyle (which conflicted with her still-deep religious convictions). She later married a minister and raised three daughters, returning to music in 1980 with [a] gospel album . . . . 

https://www.allmusic.com/artist/brenda-holloway-mn0000615826#biography

On Hollywood a Go Go:

On Shivaree:

“One of the top 3 moments of the entire Shindig TV show, this is Motown singer Brenda Holloway on Oct. 21, 1965 — at age 19 — singing the great You Can Cry On My Shoulder with the amazing Blossoms on back-up. Heart-wrenching and with a pulsing, moody beat. What a singer!!” (The CAD Amusement Company, https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nizgVaZBc4A&pp=ygUyYnJlbmRhIGhvbGxvd2F5IHlvdSBjYW4gY3J5IG9uIG15IHNob3VsZGVyIHNoaW5kaWc%3D):

Here’s an alternate version:

Here’s Michael Jackson:

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