Learning to Listen: Three-in-One: The Appeal of Brook Benton

Since 2011 the U.K. based label Jasmine Records has gradually reissued all the Mercury Records LPs by one of the more interesting musicians to emerge in the late 1950s—Brook Benton (b. 1931 as Benjamin Franklin Peay). 2011’s The Silky Smooth Tones of…Brook Benton and 2013’s Let Me Sing and I’m Happy document the diversity of his career and the crossover zeitgeist of the late 1950s-mid 1960s. At this time R&B’s main offshoot rock ‘n’ roll, and its derivative the British Invasion, redefined the sound of popular music in the 20th century. Benton is an oddball who is difficult to place in the lore of “the 1960s” because he is not a pre-rock crooner/former band singer gone-solo, a full-time rocker, or a straight up R&B singer. Rather he is literally three artists in one: a smooth crooner who loves romantic ballads; a versatile songwriter who can write in any style from R&B to country to novelties; and a contemporary “crossover” singer who appealed equally to pop, R&B, and easy listening audiences.  

Brook Benton was a major singer-songwriter from the late 1950s-early 1970s. 1959’s It’s Just a Matter of Time was one of two albums Mercury Records released in 1959.

Brook Benton was a major singer-songwriter from the late 1950s-early 1970s. 1959’s It’s Just a Matter of Time was one of two albums Mercury Records released in 1959.

Like many black musicians of his generation Benton had musical roots in gospel and grew up listening to jazz-influenced popular music. He sang in multiple gospel groups, most notably The Golden Gate Quartet, before trying his hand at secular music in the R&B group The Sandmen. The group’s label Okeh Records (a Columbia Records subsidiary) signed him as a solo act. No hits followed, but he eventually became an in-demand demo singer.

When he entered the music business professionally in the mid-1950s the Nat “King” Cole and Billy Eckstine baritone sound that influenced him gave way to rock ‘n’ roll. This created a fascinating sonic tension in his recordings. On the 1957-58 tracks compiled on The Essential Vik and RCA Victor Recordings (featuring 14 recorded for Vik from 1957-58 and nine recorded for RCA from 1965-67) his voice resembles the smooth crooners, but the songs are beat-driven, dance-oriented songs resembling the mainstream late 1950s R&B and rock. None of his Vik 45s were significant hits (though “A Million Miles from Nowhere” hit #82 on the pop singles chart in 1958), but these were a test run for a formidable future hit streak. As a songwriter Benton began making an impact around 1958 when he scored with Clyde McPhatter’s classic hit “A Lover’s Question” and Cole’s hit “Looking Back.” In 1959 his first hit “It’s Just a Matter of Time” (written in response to his struggle to get a hit!) reached #3 pop and #1 R&B, and kicked off a succession of hits for Benton.

From 1958-70 Brook Benton had 49 chart hits on the Billboard 100; 24 of these hit the top 40. This was enough to make him the 15th most popular singles artist of the 1960s and to rank #46 among all singers of the 1955+ period known as the rock era.  On the R&B charts he had an even more remarkable run with 38 hits on the R&B chart, and 37 hitting the top 40, including 7 #1 hits. He ranks #33 among ‘50s R&B singles artists, #10 in ‘60s R&B, and #33 overall for R&B recorded from 1942-2010. Despite this impressive record his career seems mostly forgotten today.

This 2011 compilation compiles four of Benton’s albums recorded between 1961-62 that showcase his versatility.

This 2011 compilation compiles four of Benton’s albums recorded between 1961-62 that showcase his versatility.

As a writer and performer Benton mastered the conventions of mainstream pop during his Mercury Records stint (1959-65). He was a jack-of-all-trades/something-for-everyone composer who wrote ballads, mid-tempo tunes, Christmas songs (“This Time of the Year”), novelty songs (“The Boll Weevil Song”), songs with rock, R&B, and pop flavored seasoning, and even delved into folk and gospel. This characterization might make him sound like a commercial hack, but there is a delightful experimental quality to his writing most evident when listening to the 1989 compilation Forty Greatest Hits (Mercury Records) focused on his singles.  He was undoubtedly in search of hits, which was understandable financially and creatively. 1959 is widely considered the end of rock ‘n’ roll’s golden era and the beginning of its descent into mere commercial pop.  I prefer to think of it as a period when pop music was re-opening.  After the initial hysteria toward rock ‘n’ roll a mellowing occurred. This is when the Annette Funicellos and Frankie Avalons emerged but, more promisingly, girl groups and Motown began making their impact, and synthesizers like the great Brenda Lee were impacting pop.  Only two years later the “easy listening” chart was born to give pre-rock singers a more hospitable radio format. There was an explosion of new talents in pop and Benton was squarely in the middle.

Many of the songs on Forty have a quaint feel to them thanks to arranger Belford Hicks and producer Clyde Otis’s penchant for strings, cooing choirs, and ricky-tick percussion. Despite these dated touches Benton is always a pleasure to listen to—he has smooth phrasing, a warm tone, and an intimate way with a lyric. He is almost disarmingly sincere, and yet he is also witty and ironic. He wrote and recorded “Boll Weevil” and the meta-commentary on the formulaic nature of pop on 1962’s tongue-in-cheek “Hit Record.”

Benton was Mercury’s premier singles artist between rock ‘n’ roll and the British invasion. Neither a teen idol nor a nostalgia artist, and not so smooth that he was somnambulant or so rough that he was off-putting, his music was mellow enough, energetic enough, and soulful enough to appeal to many constituencies.  Mercury’s most obvious attempt to secure an audience was Benton’s albums. In the late 1950s/early 1960s singles targeted teenagers and albums, which were more expensive, aimed for adults. While actual purchasing patterns were messier than this strategy suggests this approach made Johnny Mathis (who was four years younger than Benton but had scored hit singles since 1957) a mega singles and albums artist.  Benton never quite achieved this dual distinction. From 1961-70 he only had nine LPs reach the top 200. Among the five recorded at Mercury only one, 1962’s Singing the Blues-Lie to Me hit the top 40 at #40.

Benton’s most famous album is 1960’s duet album The Two of Us recorded with jazz and blues legend Dinah Washington. They did not get along very well so only four duets, including the classic hits “Baby (You’ve Got What It Takes)” and  “A Rockin’ Goo…

Benton’s most famous album is 1960’s duet album The Two of Us recorded with jazz and blues legend Dinah Washington. They did not get along very well so only four duets, including the classic hits “Baby (You’ve Got What It Takes)” and “A Rockin’ Good Way (To Mess Around and Fall in Love)” were recorded together. The rest are solo cuts sung separately.

A big part of this was the nature of his LPs. Benton loved pre-rock standards including show tunes and movie themes—two styles with waning appeal during his commercial peak. His first album was named after his first hit (“It’s Just a Matter of Time”), but the remaining 11 hits were standards like “The Nearness of You” and “When I Fall in Love” which were all made famous by pre-rock pop and jazz singers years earlier. To his credit the arrangements are much subtler and more tasteful than the typical orchestrations on his singles—there are no choirs—and he sings beautifully. This also applies to his second LP of 1959 Endlessly which follows the same formula—it’s named after his original hit surrounded by standards.  Neither LP made an impact commercially though both showcased a more consistent aspect of Benton—his impressive crooning skills. Like his idol Cole, and peers like Mathis and Andy Williams, he is a smoothie who is eminently listenable. Unlike Cole, Eckstine, and baritones like Joe Williams and Johnny Hartman, Benton lacks jazz roots which give his LPs an overly consistent feel devoid of improvisation or syncopation. His 1960 LP Songs I Like to Sing bucked this trend somewhat via an energetic version of Johnny Mercer’s “Fools Rush In” that hit #24 pop and #5 R&B.

Mercury attempted to raise his album profile somewhat by pairing him with “Queen of the Blues” Dinah Washington on 1960’s The Two of Us. Together they sparked on the jaunty pop and R&B hits “Baby (You’ve Got What it takes)” and “A Rockin’ Good Way (to Mess Around and Fall in Love).”  They also recorded “I Do” and the inspirational standard “I Believe” before their personality differences halted the duets. The result is an odd LP with four duets and a bunch of Benton and Washington solo performances. Too bad—they complement each other beautifully on record. 

Benton’s first charting album was 1961’s Golden Hits which summarized his remarkable Mercury career up to that point. The set only hit #82, but stayed on the chart for 20 weeks indicating an ongoing interest in Benton’s output. Jasmine’s The Silky Smooth Tones Of… collects all five of these LPs on two discs. (The only caveats—The Two of Us lacks Dinah’s solo performances and Golden Hits excludes hits already featured on the LPs. Fortunately, you can buy the whole of these sets in digital or physical form very easily).

Let Me Sing and I’m Happy compiles 1960’s I Love You So Many Ways, 1961’s The Boll Weevil Song, 1961’s There Goes That Song Again and 1962’s Singing the Blues-Lie to Me on two discs. I Love You is a lush pop album featuring originals (none became hits) except for a lush cover of “Someone to Watch Over Me.” Boll Weevil is more adventurous featuring the clever title song (a #2 pop and R&B,  and #1 easy listening hit), and surprises like an energetic take on the folk song “Frankie and Johnny” and a Bentonized cover of W.C. Handy’s “Careless Love” with strings, a choir, ticking percussion, and a sax solo.  There was recorded with Quincy Jones, who was an executive and staff producer for Mercury and its jazz imprint EmArcy; it features standard material in big band and orchestral arrangements which Benton handles effectively. The main appeal is hearing Benton sing tougher, more R&B oriented material notably his fresh takes on “After You’ve Gone,” “Blues in the Night,” and “Trouble in Mind” that show a different set of colors in his interpretive style. He locates a happy balance of blues, R&B, and jazz stylings on these songs. Singing the Blues-Lie to Me is a more conventional set with somewhat more R&B leaning material set in very ‘60s arrangements. He covers more contemporary songs like “Pledging My Love” and “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow,” and revisits his own “Looking Back”—previously a hit for Cole.

After his successful time at Mercury, where he excelled commercially as a singles artist and stretched out artistically on enjoyable but only mildly popular albums, he switched to RCA. There he recorded a lot of lush pop from 1966-67. This is Brook Benton is a 20-song compilation of Benton singing ‘60s fare like “Moon River” and “Call Me Irresponsible” with orchestral accompaniment, with a handful of original tunes like the country-flavored “Mother Nature, Father Time (#53 pop, #26 R&B)—his only hit on the label. The Essential Vik and RCA Victor Recordings showcases some of Benton’s original material at RCA. By 1965 Benton’s hit streak had ebbed—the emergence of British Rock and soul music altered pop and R&B which made his lush style passé commercially. He was only 34 and almost done commercially.  The tunes include “The Roach Song,” a Christmas tune, and multiple attempts to fit into the landscape. The ballad “Only A Girl Like You” sounds like Mercury Benton with strings and cooing vocals; comparatively “Too Much Good Lovin’ (No Good for Me)” has a more salacious lyric, a more adventurous pseudo go-go beat, and a nearly menacing tone more in line with the energy of the mid-60s. 1966’s “If You Only Knew” has aged even better—it’s a sultry R&B tune spiked with horns and percussive breaks with a feel located somewhere between Elvis style pop and Stax soul. “Keep the Faith Baby”—a gospel style—tune has an inspirational lyric and a soulful arrangement with call and response vocals, rollicking triplets, and a shuffling stop-start rhythm is another keeper. These tunes suggest Benton was torn between the eras, but growing into the feel of the era as best he could.

After recording one album with Reprise switched to Cotillion Records where he hit it big one last time with a tender, impassioned rendition of Tony Joe White’s “Rainy Night in Georgia.” Over the years his timbre darkened a bit and his voice has gained a newfound sensuality. He hit #4 pop and #1 R&B, and influenced every version of its since—including renditions by other singers like Randy Crawford and Aaron Neville.   Benton continued recording for several years more before passing in 1988. In the 1980s Rhino Records released Anthology, PolyGram released Forty Greatest Hits, and RCA released This is Brook Benton, so his work was significant enough to survive into the CD era. The Essential set, as well as the more recent releases, hopefully indicate ongoing interest in his career. Most of his albums have been digitized on streaming platforms such as Spotify. In addition to albums of pop standards and R&B there are interesting detours including 1966’s countrypolitan set My Country and 1971’s gospel album The Gospel Truth.

Benton is an accomplished artist who is strangely absent from the grand narrative of late 1950s-mid 1960s pop, yet he was one of its defining voices. While I would not call him a radical innovator, he is certainly one of the most eclectic and enjoyable synthesizers during a time when pop music was in flux. Too young for the big band era, but too traditional for rock ‘n’ roll he blended his influences into a style that traversed ages, races, and stylistic tastes rather deftly. His invisibility is a consequence of a tendency among historians and critics to dismiss artists who make categorizations inconvenient. Jazz critics might write him off as pop, rock n roll writers might see him as too pre-rock oriented, whereas R&B writers, who have tended to be more inclusive, might see him primarily as pre-soul. As a composer his work is integral in the careers of singers like McPhatter and Cole, and his smooth baritone has arguably influenced Barry White, Teddy Pendergrass, Luther Vandross and other crooners, even indirectly, not to mention the blueprint of “Rainy Night in Georgia.” The resurgence of reissues points to a new opportunity for understanding his role in shaping the pop of his time. Sometimes there’s a lot more to the story of black pop waiting to be told.

 

 

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