The Complete Ann Peebles on Hi Records, Vol. 1 (1969-73)

(Demon)

RECOMMENDED

One of a number of soul singers of her period who was talented, consistently good on record, had a hell of a voice both literally and as a songwriter, and even enjoyed a bit of mainstream success but has lapsed into semi-obscurity with the passing decades, Ann Peebles was known primarily to me for two reasons: her biggest hit "I Can't Stand the Rain" was sampled on Missy Elliott's mindblowing 1997 single "Da Rain," one of the songs that got me seriously interested in hip hop; and she was performing on the night that John Lennon got kicked out of the Troubador for wearing a maxi pad on his head. Not coincidentally, Lennon cited "I Can't Stand the Rain" as the finest record ever made. I don't know if he's right, but he's not wrong, if that makes sense.

This exhaustive compilation may not be the best introduction to Peebles' work. While everything it encompasses is listenable, I have to imagine that Peebles works better in shorter, more urgent doses. These two discs gather a wealth of the St. Louis native's work in what is unquestionably one of the best periods of soul music: 1969 to 1973. It's reviewed here specifically because it was the only Peebles item I could easily find when I was trying to learn more about her; now I can and probably eventually will dig for her albums or a more conventional compilation on one of the streaming services. But don't let that sound like muted praise for Peebles herself or her body of work -- there are a lot of songs here that work great for mixes, for DJing, for bursts of pleasure. They just don't all stack together necessarily without wearing out their welcome, and because this is a complete chunk of her discography, you get limp covers of "Rescue Me" and "Chain of Fools" and "Respect" probably intended as b-sides or to be buried on records. There's also a strange tune about a generation gap within a relationship, which is... strange, though not altogether in a bad way. (Note that I'm resisting the obvious Woody Allen joke.)

Hi Records was one of the centers of the world in soul music in the early '70s, in part but not entirely because it was the home of Al Green at the time; though it's never been as appreciated as the Stax or Motown style, there was a distinctive sound to the Hi recordings, and that's audible and intensely delightful on this nearly two-hour set. The horns on "Part Time Love" and "I'll Get Along" have that crunchy stop-start lilt while the rhythm section plods through an immaculately minimal groove and you keep expecting "Let's Stay Together" or "I'm Still in Love with You" to kick up. It's no fair to compare Peebles or anyone else to Green, but it's interesting that her creative arrangement of the Memphis sound puts her in a wholly different position to her peer's; whereas he deliberately commands and places himself in front of the band, Peebles seems to see herself as a more democratic member of the troupe and, skilled and impressive though her voice is, exchanges direct call and response with the other instruments and never attempts to assert herself as the untouchable center. And given what seems to have been an unusual level of creative control, this was almost assuredly intentional.

You can place either of these discs on as background and enjoy yourself, although again the length will leave you reaching up to vary things a bit, but the second is far stronger than the first. Nearly all of the songs are solid, with very few merely serviceable. A more streamlined singles collection would likely up the consistency; the individual standouts leap out in your direction here. Opener "Give Me Some Credit" certainly qualifies as a statement of purpose, as bold and flooring as all those Marvin Gaye sets that open with "Stubborn Kind of Fellow." The vicious late '60s groove on "Credit" is the perfect stage to set for Peebles' voice, already perfectly formed and nuanced and clear as bell, flipping wildly between tough and vulnerable, speaking and singing, singing and singing like something depends on it. Maybe it did; she seldom sounds so excited elsewhere, and her reputation as rather a dour and bleak figure isn't wholly unjustified. It's the brilliant band performance that sticks out on the ringing, alternately bottom-heavy and feather-light funk on "It's Your Thing," despite the prowess of Peebles and the backing vocalists. She only seems to cut as loose as her backers at the end, when she emits a marvelously gentle echo of Aretha Franklin's version of "Respect" -- "sockittome sockittome," she nearly whispers.

Not for nothing does Peebles seem most at home on ballads -- the lovely slow-jams "Won't You Try Me" and particularly "Troubles, Heartaches and Sadness" are easy choices for your next second-chance prom (though even the pure sap of "Until You Came into My Life" is agreeable), and they've got nothing on the goddamn sick-beyond-all-definition "I've Been There Before." This song, the emotional peak of the collection, opens with "Did you ever have to sit there and watch them holding hands?" and whether you have or haven't, you feel like you have when this thing gets in your bones. The concoction is a delicate one: slippery guitar in the fashion of Smokey Robinson's "Tracks of My Tears," and a plodding, incredibly tense drum pattern. In a sense it's just like a hundred other R&B ballads, but in another it's fully singular -- it just has that kind of immediacy and ideal fusion of performance and composition.

Maybe part of Peebles' charm is how tentatively she comes around to a swaggering moment like her "yeh" on "Part Time Love," but as the years wear on, some of her best material finds her in rock & roll badass mode, like the delicious "I Feel Like Breaking Up Somebody's Home," which I'm thrilled to report is nearly as good as its title, and the towering, brutal "I'm Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down," which some say is better than "I Can't Stand the Rain," though I'm not among them. By "I Pity the Fool," Peebles has fully come into her own as both soul singer and pop professional. Which I suppose is a cry out for me to investigate Vol. 2.

But as for "I Can't Stand the Rain," it truly stands above all else here. Like some sort of alien creation, it sounds as surreal and incongruous here as in any other context, and must have been outrageous on the radio. It has the feel of a world-shaker like "Strawberry Fields Forever" or "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" -- some twisted thing that, even if not truly "new," has never been done in quite this way before. It comes down to nothing more than romantic yearning, but what else is there? And that wet, fishy tap-tap percussion that bursts in like a transmission from parts unknown, weirdly reminiscent of the bizarre percussion Phil Spector used on Lennon's "Instant Karma!", is a stroke of genius that can't likely be explained away rationally. Like Screamin' Jay Hawkins or John Cale, Peebles here shows herself to be fearlessly inventive in adapting strange ideas to a pop idiom, even if fleetingly.

Further research required, then? Unquestionably. I feel I'll be able to evaluate Peebles' work and career with clearer eyes by seeking out her work in shorter form, at which point I have little doubt she'll join the list of my favorite singers of her period. For now: go find her, listen to her, enjoy her great music, but maybe go a different route than I did.