Shing-A-Ling

This is the photo:

JET Magazine, June 5, 1967, page 33

This is the song that goes with it:

Shirley Ellis: »Sugar Let's Shing-a-ling« from the Columbia LP # 2679 (1967):

 

The song was recorded March 20 / April 10, 1967, in New York. It appeared on Columbia # 44137 and then gave the name to Shirley's first (and last) Columbia LP. Yes, another Columbia effort at breaking into the soul market. Admittedly, in producing Shirley Ellis of »Name Game«-fame Columbia had a more convincing, if also more conventional and commercially oriented soul package than before. They didn't follow it up, after all. A Billboard critic called the song a »blues rocker that could prove a sales smash and a new dance craze« (Billboard May 20, 1967, p. 18). Up to a point, it proved both. However, the »Shingaling« was no Ellis original: since the beginning of '67, Don Covay and others had already been putting out dance tunes of that name.
     But what is commercial success? Not really a helpful category. I'd rather think about how to categorize Shirley's softish-smoky, skin-tighteningly salacious voice. Haven't come up with something helpful, either. It hardly needs a category to be carried away by Shirley, though. So let's forget about categories and concentrate on the song. Chances are that you've heard it before; if not, you can do so above. It comes from this LP, in mono:

In case you want to hear more, which I could understand better than anyone, and for good measure as well, here is a second song from this LP. It was written by Shirley Ellis(ton) and bears the simple title »Waitin'«. Soulfully shuttling along, it will not be shortlisted for the most-original-song-of-the-'60s-award but for what it's worth it'll get your feet moving and your hips swinging. And if you listen closely, all you ever need to know about the philosophy of life is built into that song:

          Waitin', waitin', waitin' is all I ever do

          Waitin', waitin', waitin' I bet you're waitin' too ...

          That's how it is, that's how it be: Either I wait for you or you wait for me ...

Well, you don't have to wait any longer, let's listen to Shirley again:

Shirley Ellis: »Waitin'« from the Columbia LP # 2679 (1967, mono):

* * *

Teddy Blue

On the cover of the Gordy LP # 902 we find a huge teddy, rather melancholically looking and couched in blue. It is Martha's teddy. Aptly, he appears on the first LP of Martha (Reeves) & The Vandellas, released in June 1963 and entitled »Come And Get These Memories«.
To present this vocal group from Detroit is unnecessary, you all know them. Those few that don't will have heard their greatest hits: »Heat Wave« (1963), »Dancing In The Street« (1964), »Nowhere To Run« (1965) or »Jimmy Mack« (1967). But in the summer of '63, they were still on their way to fame. And so was Berry Gordy's Motown Empire.
     Martha Reeves was working as secretary of Motown's A&R-man William »Mickey« Stevenson since 1961. It then happened, on June 29, 1962 (or, following Martha's Memoirs, only in July), that she was around when Marvin Gaye had gone into the studio to record »Stubborn Kind Of Fellow« (later released as Tamla # 54068). Alas, the female backing group hadn't shown up, and thus Martha called her friends Ros- alind, Annette and Gloria to come over. The female quartet, without name as yet and assembled for the occasion, provided the backing vocals on Marvin's recording. However, for the being that was as far as it got.
     Three months later, in September '62, chance again smiled at the Vandellas-To-Be. The session musicians were about to finish the raw track of the tune »I'll Have To Let Him Go«, while everybody waited for the singer to appear. The song had been given to Mary Wells, the most prominent female voice of Motown's at the time, but now there was no trace of her. Illness, she was to say later, prevented her from coming to the studio, yet others maintain that she didn't like the song and therefore didn't materialize for the recording session. Now, here is a tangle: It was prohibited, following a recent agreement with the labor union of studio musicians, to record a vocal tune without any singer being present in the studio. That is, the agreement was violated if the studio musicians laid down parts of a track with the vocal part being added later. This had become more and more common during the last years. As it happened, an inspector of the union inexpectedly showed up in the studio and the Motown bosses were forced to present him with a singer for the session. Martha was sitting upstairs in the office, and when she was called to the studio she jumped at this chance. The song, featuring Martha Reeves, was then recorded only to save the appearance and to satisfy the inspector. Yet when Mickey Stevenson and Berry Gordy Jr. afterwards listened to the tape with Martha's voice on it they were pleasantly surprised and thought about giving Martha a recording contract. Thus the story of Martha & The Vandellas was about to begin.

First publicity shot 1962 (from Reeves's autobiography)
Left to right: M. Reeves, R. Ashford, A. Beard Sterling
... the trio without wigs in an early Afro look!

We'll come to the teddy soon enough, be patient. Before we do, let it be known that Martha Reeves called her friends again, and together they recorded several songs at the Motown studio. Again this was to the satisfaction of Berry Gordy, who was in general hard to please, and he presented the whole group with a recording contract. Gloria Jean Williamson backed off at the last moment when she had to sign the contract, but the others, Martha Reeves, Rosalind Ashford and Annette Beard Sterling, did curl their names on it. And Martha had typewritten the contract herself, being the a&r secretary! Now it had to be settled under which name they were to record. The most famous version of how the name was found, as Martha Reeves told it, has it that the name »Vandellas« was a combination of Della (Reese), the singer Martha venerated, and »Van (Dyke Street)«, a street near which Martha was living. Pretty abstruse, if you think of it, and quite probably true.
     The first song of the newly-formed Vandellas, Martha's »I'll Have To Let Him Go« with overdubs added, was released as their first single (Gordy # 7011). It didn't stir any waves, but Motown offered Martha & The Vandellas another chance. And that's how we are approaching the teddy, after all. On January 23, 1963, they recorded another song which was to have considerable success: »Come And Get These Memories« (r&b # 06, pop # 29). The tune was penned by the trio Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier and Edward »Eddie« Holland, then pretty unknown but later coming to fame as Motown's biggest hitmakers. The song was released in February on Gordy # 7014 and laid the foundation for the career of Martha & The Vandellas. Reportedly, Berry Gordy said after having heard the recording for the first time: »That's the sound I've been looking for. That's the Motown Sound!« (quoted in Martha Reeves with Mark Bego: Dancing in the Street. Confessions of a Motown Diva, New York 1994, p. 66). Nelson George wrote about this song:

»There is a joyful buoyancy to the melody and to Reeves' vocal that totally undercuts Eddie's lyric of painful breakup. Annette Sterling's and Rosalind Ashford's backing voices are beautifully arranged, heightening the tune's hummability. It was a decidedly "pop" record, with Reeves' voice mixed way up front and the instruments buried in the mix. It was a catchy record ...«
(N. George: Where Did Our Love Go? The Rise & Fall of the Motown Sound, London 2003, p. 85 f.)

And here is this song, from the same-titled LP:

Martha & The Vandellas: »Come And Get These Memories« from the Gordy LP # 902 (1963):

Motown put a lot behind that song and placed several ads in Billboard, which first were to make it known, then to proclaim its success. But they didn't leave it at that. Rather, they took inspiration from the song lines which run:

Lover, you've gone from me and left behind

So many memories
Here's your old friendship ring, I can't wear it no more
Here's your old love letters, I can't read them any more

Lover, you've gone from me and left behind

So many memories
Here's that old teddy bear (Come and get it)
That you won for me at the state fair
Here's some old valentine cards (Come and get 'em)
Give them to your new sweetheart ...

Thus the dropped lover sits around with an old friend- ship ring, the love letters, an old teddy bear and the Valentine cards, all reminiscent of former happiness and now only a painful memory. But the said objects also make for handy gimmicks, and so we find them not only on the cover of Gordy LP # 902 but also in an ad published in May '63. The teddy proved to be the most exploitable of these objects, and so it became part of the stage show of Martha & The Vandellas. Martha Reeves tells the story in her autobiography:

»The song itself is about a brokenhearted girl giving back to her boyfriend all of the mementos of their love-gone-bad. On stage I would use a large teddy as a prop. I sang a line about giving back the stuffed animal that had been won at the state fair. When I came to that line, someone would have hand me the teddy bear from the wings. Then I would throw it back when I would reach the line telling the boyfriend to come and get it.« (M. Reeves, Dancing in the Street, p. 66)

The ones responsible at Motown, ever shrewd when it came to promoting their acts, immediately recognized the potential of this prop and saw to it that Martha & The Vandellas were to be shown only with a teddy appearing somewhere. And it took more than one teddy to ensure that:

Let me add that apart from the teddy gimmick (which later was used by several other labels, see for example this ad from 1968), Motown had thought of yet another trick of highlighting the charms of the Vandellas. For their stage shows they were given white gloves, and these gloves »... glowed in purple light when we sang 'come on and get it'« (Martha Reeves). Thus the gloves became another recognition sign of the Vandellas and were pictured in a number of Motown ads (click for examples here and here). Without doubt, Motown was already in 1963 at the forefront of what publicity could achieve in the music business and this, nothwithstanding the good sound they were producing, was part of their success. And so it was not Michael Jackson (another Motown disciple) who had invented the »glowing glove«.

* * *

Finally some words about the album »Come And Get These Memories«. Martha Reeves in her Memoirs said the following about this her first LP:

»In the first couple months after Christmas, the Vandellas and I completed work on our debut album ... Our first album reflected the kind of music that was popular during that era. It included our cover versions of a couple of popular hits like Little Anthony & The Imperials' "Tears on My Pillow," Andy Williams's "Can't Get Used to Losing You," and a new version of "There He Is (at My Door)" on which I sang lead. The Come and Get These Memories album was not very successful on the charts when it was released ... Original copies of our Come and Get These Memories LP are now considered collector's items. The last one I saw in a record shop was priced at several hundred dollars« (Reeves, Dancing in the Street, p. 80).

But, as it goes with debut albums, the Vandellas had not yet found their later style and their future »nitty gritty image« which came with »Heat Wave«, »Dancing In The Street« and several other tunes all classics today. Richie Unterberger is therefore right when, in the All Music Guide to Soul, he put the Vandellas' first album in its proper historic perspective (p. 445): »Their debut album finds the Vandellas in a more limelight and pop- oriented style ..., with some girl group and doo-wop roots still in evidence.« And there is no better evidence for the girl group sound we find on this LP than the song »There He Is (At My Door)«. I personally think it is one of the best of the entire album, and it gains further significance for the fact that it belongs to the earliest recordings of Martha & The Vandellas, recorded back in August 1962 and actually still before they were known officially as »Vandellas«:

Martha & The Vandellas: »There He Is (At My Door)« from the Gordy LP # 902 (1963, mono):

Still Electrifying

During the '60s, Columbia Records was putting out albums of relatively unknown female singers and announced the featured artists as »electrifying« to the buying public. They did it with Aretha Franklin when, in 1962, they released their second album, »The Electrifying« (Columbia LP # CS-8561). And they did it again in October 1965 when they released another LP which, to my greatest dismay and utter surprise, didn't succeed in bringing fame and glory to its protagonist. This LP went by the title »Introducing an Electrifying New Star« ....

Columbia LP # CS-9185 (1965)

The »new star« was Rheta Hughes, born as Henrietta Hughes in Dallas. Her first LP on Columbia (# CS-9185), »Introducing an Electrifying New Star«, presented her as the star she still had to become ... but unfortu- nately never became. This album was to be her one and only LP for Columbia, and it didn't suffice to earn her a place in Gary Marmor- stein's massive 600-page history of Columbia Records (The Label. The Story of Columbia Records, New York 2007).

In the contemporary press, Rheta's LP was not only announced (see the November 27, 1965, issue of Billboard) but also reviewed with much praise: »Rheta Hughes, in her first album, displays an impressive blues and jazz style, a first-rate voice and a flair for proper phrasing.« And in another review: »Rhetta (sic) is a golden and gutsy singer who mastered intonation and phrasing where a young singer should (in a church choir).« (Billboard, December 11, 1965. p. 16). A beautiful example that this praise was well-earned provides the very first song of the LP:

Rheta Hughes w/ Tennyson Stephens:»The Music That Makes Me Dance« from the Columbia LP # CS-9185 (1965):

This song comes from the musical »Funny Girl«, which was first shown on Broadway in 1964, with Barbra Streisand in the title role. But Rheta Hughes, a perfect singer on her first album, made much more of that song than the Broadway production. And this can well be said of all songs we find on her album. Not one of them is less than stunning, and most are prime examples of the so-called Chicago jazz vocal tradition, which was alternatively also called »Soul-Jazz« or »Bluesy Jazz«. Rheta is accompan- ied by Tennyson Stephens on piano, and both had played together in Rheta's church back in Dallas.

On the backcover of the LP we read: »Listen to Rheta ... Let's leave it at that.« There is some irony in these words. Indeed, the album sold little, and Rheta Hughes remained unknown to a larger public. I guess that Columbia somehow made the same mistake with Rheta that they did with Aretha Franklin around the same time: They recorded her, but they wouldn't push her in the market. And as a matter of course they would put her exclusively into the Jazz- or Easy-Listening-corner ... shying away, as it seems, from the then much more profitable markets. Aretha was rescued, in the end, by switching to Atlantic, but Rheta was stuck with it. Even though, one has to admit that most of Rheta's Columbia-recordings are jazzier and, yes, artistically more challenging than anything Aretha recorded for the label. For those of you who aren't convinced of that after hearing the first song above you can try again by listening to two other tunes from Rheta's LP in the following. First »Lost And Lookin'«, a »medium-tempo bluesy number« (that's what the backcover says), then »I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl«. The latter song was announced in Dom Cerulli's sleeve notes with the words: »Hear Rheta blow hot and sexy on the slow blues«!

Rheta Hughes with Tennyson Stephens:

»Lost And Lookin'« / »I Want A Little Sugar in My Bowl« from the Columbia LP # CS-9185 (1965):


The songs on Rheta's beautiful album were produced by Ralph Bass who during his career took part in, and helped to bring about, many a memorable recording; he also was around when the Meditation Singers recorded in Chicago for Chess/Checker Records during the late '60s.

* * *

Rheta Hughes's Columbia-LP did not prove a commercial success and only by hindsight can be judged an artistic success. Back then, she didn't profit much from it. Around the same time, in the mid-'60s, she started appearing on stage as »Rhetta Hughes« what later became her regular artist name. After 1965 she toured through supper clubs and nightclub venues, together with Tennyson Stephens, but they didn't hit it big. Once in a while her name appeared in the rainbow press, e.g. in May 1965 when she was said to have a romance with Tom Jones whom she had met in Las Vegas. In 1969, she recorded another album for the Tetragrammaton-label. This LP has remained rather obscure to this day, although the song »Light My Fire« became a favorite with soul-aficionados.

During the '70s, she was involved in several blaxploitation movies (particularly in »Sweet Sweetback’s Baad Asssss Song«, 1971), and during the '80s she met with considerable success when she appeared in a number of musicals, including James Baldwin's »Amen Corner«. Due to her checkered career, however, her name didn't find the resonance it deserves and thus information about her life and art is hard to come by. Most of the standard Jazz- and Soul-dictionaries simply ignore her. This is hard to understand for everybody who has heard Rheta Hughes sing. And her Columbia-LP from 1965 was quite an outstanding debut. Sadly and unjustly, it went by largely unnoticed until the present day.

Just What I Need Today

Today, I thought I might just post one of those unforgettable tunes that accompany the lives of us all. Those tunes which you feel compelled to return to once and again. Which you won't easily become tired listening to. Just what I needed today. This is one of those tunes that accompany my life. And it even comes without vocals.

Congress LP # CS-7000 (1968)

You find the tune on the beautiful but little-known LP »The Greatest Little Soul Band in the Land«, released on Congress in September 1969.
Behind the LP was J.J. Jackson (Jerome Louis Jackson), born in the Bronx (or, according to others, in Brooklyn) and »one of the most inter- esting obscure figures of '60s soul« as Richie Unterberger qualified him in the AMG to R&B and Soul. From 1966 onwards, Jackson was recording in the UK with British musicians. And indeed, his »Greatest Little Soul Band« you can hear on this album is an all-out British band (with one Jamaican member), and their LP was recorded at the De Lane Lea Studios in London.

Well, I won't make many words today. Suffice it to say that J.J. Jackson's 1969 Congress LP is a very nice mix of instrumentals and vocal songs, quite varied in style and much to the jazzy side of R&B. At least one of the songs, »Fat, Black, And Together«, was also released as a single (see here). Alan Walsh, from London's Melody Maker, wrote about Jackson's »liaison« and »amalgam« of Jazz and Soul, and he was right about that. And he finished his notes on the back cover of the LP by saying: »As a musician friend said when I played him acetates of the music on this album: "It's like George Gershwin writing for Otis Redding." Need I say more?«

One monster track from this LP is the first tune, a six-minute instrumental version, of the famous »Tobacco Road« (written back in 1960 by John D. Loudermilk from North Carolina, but not much noticed until it became a trans-Atlantic hit for the Nashville Teens in summer 1964. I can assure you, this song, though often recorded and adapted to many musical styles over the years, doesn't become much better than in this big bandish, jazzy soul-version by J.J. Jackson and his fellows. Enjoy!

J.J. Jackson & The Greatest Little Soul Band: »Tobacco Road« from the Congress LP # CS-7000 (1969):

They Got It, Don't Forget It

She didn't make it into the All Music Guide to Soul nor into The Blackwell Guide to Soul Recordings. You don't find her listed in the Goldmine Standard Catalog of R&B Records. Mystery a-plenty! Well, not to worry. This is her as she liked herself to be shown on her first album, on the back cover (details):

Her name is what her music makes me: Merry, the family's Clayton.

* * *

Hell of a singer she is alright. From near New Orleans, grown up in a Baptist minister's family. In December 1962, she made her first solo recording (billed as »Marry Clayton«). In 1966 (or maybe in late '65, I couldn't establish that exactly) she joined Ray Charles's female backing group, the Raelettes. Later she said about her experience with Ray Charles:

»To be a 17-year-old, to be going on a national tour, flying in a plane with Ray Charles, ... you couldn't have asked for anything better than that. Your gowns and your clothes had to be perfect, your make-up had to be cool, you had to be cutified. You had to be gorgeous, smell good, it was a privilege to be a Raelette - you had to be a little diva, honey!« (quoted in Mike Evans: Ray Charles: The Birth of Soul, New York - London 2005, p. 225)

Doesn't sound as if she had a bad time. However, when Ray Charles sacked one member of the Raelettes (Gwen Berry), Merry hit the road, too. Together with Odie Coates and two ex-Raelettes, Gwendolyn Berry and Lillian Fort, she formed »The Sisters Love« in 1968, contracted to a Los Angeles-based label. But what she was doing most of the times in the late '60s was recording as a studio backing vocalist with names which (deservedly or not) resounded more with the general public, among them the Rolling Stones (see also here). In around 1970 she appeared on various recordings together with Clydie King (another ex-Raelette) and Venetta Fields (then from the Mirettes and an ex-Ikette). Then, her single »Gimme Shelter« (the Rolling Stones song) was released in May 1970, with an album of the same title following in August 1970 (Ode '70 LP # 77001).

Ode '70 LP # 77001

Her first album was well-received. In a Billboard review from Oct. 17, 1970, we read: »Miss Clayton's dynamic soul-rock styles is the main ingredient in her first solo LP for Ode 70. The album includes her hit reading of the Stones' "Gimme Shelter" and her current single, James Taylor's "Country Road." Other outstanding cuts are the Doors' "Tell All the People," Forget It I Got It," and an unpredict- able "Bridge Over Troubled Water."« The album's title song, »Gimme Shelter«, had been out since around May 1970 (on Ode '70 # 66003), and a second single (»Country Road« / »Forget It I Got It«, Ode # 66007) was released in September. Slowly but surely she made her name and art known during the latter months of 1970, and the February 1971-issue of Ebony was graced with the following notice on page 24:

»Perhaps you've never heard of this 22-year-old singer but she's been supplying soul backgrounds for pop artists since she was 14. Former lead singer with Ray Charles' Raelets, she's backed up folks like B. B. King, The Supremes, Bob Dylan, Bobby Darin and "white soul" singer Joe Cocker on his two albums. Now she's on her own with a husky, intensely emotional sound reminiscent of Mavis Staples and Cissy Houston.«

The comparison with Mavis Staples is fitting indeed (Mavis had released her first solo LP just one year before in summer '69). And I fully agree with the above-quoted Billboard reviewer's opinion that »Forget It I Got It« is among her LP's »outstanding« tunes.

So let's come down to the nitty gritty: »Forget It I Got It« was penned by Gary Wright and Jimmy Miller of the UK-outfit »The Spooky Tooth«. Gary Wright, the organist, was the only U.S.-member of the band, and Jimmy Miller produced them. Their original version of »Forget It I Got It« appeared on their first LP »It's All About«, released in 1968 (on Bell in the U.S.-version). Needless to stress that I think that Merry made a better job with this memorable song than the UK-boys could ever hope to achieve. Merry recorded the song in Hollywood in early 1970, together with the other tunes of her LP. Here it is, ripped from the original LP. Unfortunately it's not an absolutely mint copy and there is some surface noise left ... but what the heck! Surely Merry's voice and the forceful song won't make you notice the smallest scratch ...

Merry Clayton: »Forget It I Got It« from the Ode '70 LP # 77001 (1970):

* * *

But it doesn't stop here, and enter the ... Raelettes, or rather »The Raeletts« as Ray Charles billed them in 1972, presumably for copyright reasons. Some months ago I posted a song from their 1972 Tangerine LP # TRC-1515 (Ray Charles presents The Raeletts: yesterday ... today ... tomorrow). And yes, this LP also contains a version of »Forget It I Got It«, although it appears under a different title: Here we find the song as »Come Get It I Got It«. The change might have been made again for copy- right reasons, I can't tell for sure. And it doesn't matter.

Tangerine LP # 1515 (1972)

To tell you the truth: I am in love with this LP of the Raelettes since I heard it for the first time. I think it's superbly produced and superbly executed ... there is no filler here, only strong songs that kick me right off my feet every time I listen to them. And one of these is, you name it,  »Come Get It I Got It«. Basically, it's pretty different from Merry Clayton's version and its strength comes from the group effort: It's a very impressive piece of close-harmony singing in the pop-gospel mould if there ever was one. This is what vocal group-singing was all about in the early '70s, no doubt about it. Well, judge for yourself, here it is:

The Raeletts: »Come Get It I Got It« from the Tangerine LP # 1515 (1972):

High-Octane Truth

Mid-week Gospel

At last. Some pretty busy days are over. And I thought to return, for today's post, to the story of The Meditation Singers. Well, last time we followed them back into the early 1960s. There are some other, albeit few, recordings of the group from the late '50s and early '60s but I neither do know them nor do I possess them on vinyl, alas. So I move back to the future, as it is, right into the later '60s and back to one of their best LPs, »The Bad Apple« released by Checker in 1968 (recorded in '67, it's the Checker LP # 10044). Some details concerning the singers of the group active in 1967/8 and their producer Ralph Bass can be found in an entry I posted some months ago (see here). Today I would like to present two more songs from the album ment- ioned above, together with information about some others who were involved in the recording. And it's worth mentioning that each of those two songs was written by one of those persons involved.

What is more, both songs are interesting for the fact that they are original recordings by the Meditation Singers. When I looked those songs up in Hayes & Laughtons Gospel Discography it also turned out that they weren't recorded by anybody else until the '70s. So, no cover songs but »Meditation originals«.
     The first song, »Let Them Talk«, was penned by Gene Barge, a known saxophone player who in the late '60s (and actually since 1964) was working as an arranger at Chess Records. Thus he was also involved in the Meditations Singers' Checker LP and he played as a session musician on numerous other recordings. Together with Ralph Bass he not only produced the Meditations Singers but also such great names as Etta James.

In the Billboard issue of Nov 9, 1968 (only a few months after the Checker LP of the Meditation Singers had been released) we find on page 57 a nice picture showing Gene Barge as »a&r director for the Chess, Checker and Cadet/Concept group« (see the photography, Gene Barge standing in center); the picture was taken when Phil Upchurch was signed to Cadet (a subsi- diary of Chess). Now, Gene Barge contributed to the Checker LP of the Meditation Singers the song »Let Them Talk«, a raw and intense, in some ways also sinister piece of R&B-Gospel. And it's really one of a kind, not the least because of its remarkable lyrics ... accompanied by the spherical sound of a harp! On the back cover of the LP this song is described as follows:

»The haunting, taunting French horns and harp open Let Them Talk with overpowering force as Ernestine Rundless begins to "preach it to 'em" about sticks and stones can break your bones and those words that never harm you. Some high-octane truth and music.«

The Meditation Singers: »Let Them Talk« from the Checker LP 10044 (1968):

The second song, »Why Don't You Try Him« was written by Sonny Thompson. He was a bandleader and pianist who made some noise back in the '50s (when he was married to R&B singer Lula Reed). In the '60s he worked as a session musician, arranger, producer and songwriter for King Records in Cincinnati, then for Chess Records in Chicago. Thompson's activity at Chess (and related labels) is well-covered in Robert Pruter's Chicago Soul. Thompson also produced or wrote several songs, in particular Christmas tunes in the pop-gospel mould for the Soul Stirrers or also the Meditation Singers. You can hear the latter on the Chess LP »Have A Merry Chess Christmas«. About the song »Why Don't You Try Him«, which in respect to melody and rhythm is much more conventional than Barge's »Let Them Talk«, we find the following on the back cover:

»The familiar rhythms of Why Don't Try Him evoke memories of the happy "call and command" gospel songs and the lead, Miss Rundless, gives it some sock-it-to-'em preaching which helps answer the very questions she asks.«

The Meditation Singers: »Why Don't You Try Him« from the Checker-LP 10044 (1968):