The Dells Sing Dionne Warwicke's Greatest Hits

Album review

The Dells, one of Chicago's greatest soul groups of the classic period -- which is saying plenty -- were all set to step into another era at the beginning of the 1970s. Their first greatest-hits collection had been issued in 1969, and they'd recorded the Come Together soundtrack for Apple in 1971; then there was the fine, topical, Freedom Means set for Cadet in 1971. In 1972, the Dells issued this unlikely masterpiece. Whoever heard of recording an album of another singer's greatest hits, and a female singer at that? Nobody. And perhaps that's why it works. Produced and arranged by Charles Stepney for Cadet, this set is, without question, not a tribute to Dionne Warwick but to the man who wrote her songs, Burt Bacharach. Stepney was beyond hip to sophisticated arrangements, having already worked with Rotary Connection, Minnie Riperton, and Ramsey Lewis by this time. His work on Riperton's albums is mind-blowingly lush, textured, and dynamic, and loses none of its soul appeal to its production values. The Dells are accompanied here by Phil Upchurch, Roland Faulkner, Cash McCall, and a horn section that includes Art Hoyle, Ethel Merker, Robert "RX Lord" Lewis, and Paul Ondracek; Derf Reklaw-Raheem lends a hand on percussion, as do Bobby Christian, Oye "Nalls" Bisi, Ealee Satterfield, and drummers Morris Jennings and Donny Simmons. Some of these cats' names might be familiar to listeners as the Pharaohs. Stepney plays Rhodes, acoustic piano, harpsichord, and percussion, and a string section is also employed. Who knows what Bacharach thought of the set and who cares?
The radical interpretations of these tunes, from the deep, smooth soul of "I'll Never Fall in Love Again" with its lithe, sprightly, jazz-funk backdrop to the dynamic "Raindrops Keep Fallin on My Head," with its staggered strings and counterpoint horn fills are outrageous but in the pocket. The striated near-doo wop vocal chart on "Close to You," makes the tune a slow dance groover with jazzy dissonant chords, and the extended harmonic strings on that five-part vocal harmony are just plain tripped out and wonderful. Yet for all the experimentation on these songs, there isn't one that isn't immediately accessible as a great soul tune. If anything, this set sounds more in tune with what's happening in the present day than it did in the '70s -- but it couldn't have come out during any other time. The sense of adventure and that anything was possible is reflected in the clean, fresh energy not only in the performances and arrangements, but in the production as well. "Walk on By," while radically different than the Isaac Hayes' take on the tune (which is in itself diametrically opposite Warwick's reading) is tighter but even more heartbreaking. The version of "I Say a Little Prayer," with Johnny Carter's clean falsetto and the other four vocalists falling just underneath Vern Allison's leading support harmony are intercut with fine instrumental horn breaks that alternate with the strings. "Alfie" is announced by Upchurch's signature chord voicings before Carter begins to sing the intro. The rest of the band is introduced by a swoop from Ed Druzinsky's harp and the string section, and comes in gauzily. But it's the use of space here that is the identifying mark. Everything has its own place, gelling at the most poignant moments in the tune, adding a kind of believable rather than sophomoric dynamic and drama to the tune that is almost cinematic in scope. If you think of Francy Boland's wonderfully moody and dramatic Fellini 1972 album you get a hint -- combine it with soul and Charles Stepney's sense of rhythmic invention and you can almost get to it. It's simply amazing. While it's true that album didn't sell at the time, those fine folks over at the Dusty Groove label made it their seventh and final release of their own first year in 2007. This is a stone classic, a must for fans of Bacharach, Stepney, the Dells and, well, everybody who has even a passing interest in innovative soul from its golden era.

© Thom Jurek /TiVo