Genius of Love

My Life-Affirming Afternoon with Smokey Robinson

Hey, Jagged Time Lapse readers! Once again, a hearty welcome to all my new subscribers, and many thanks to those of you who have opted for a paid subscription. Today’s post is for you latter folks — and if you’re a free subscriber thinking of shelling out for a monthly or year subscription to JTL, rest assured there’s a lot more good stuff like this coming down the pike.

There’s also already a lot of fun “paid only” stuff in my archives, including interviews with Donovan, Ernie Isley, and Rush’s Alex Lifeson, stories about the time I broke up the Jesus & Mary Chain and the time Bobby Womack battled the dreaded Gonga-Rea, and flashbacks to the first concert I ever paid my own money to see and the wildest bar fight I ever witnessed. And you can have access to all of it for the mere price of a pint of beer per month!

And now, on to our scheduled feature…

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I have no memory of the first time I heard or learned about William “Smokey” Robinson, Jr. — as with Tina Turner, he was just always there, singing his songs of love in a soft, high, fluttery voice as sweet and warm as a spring afternoon.

But sunny and nimble as that voice was, there was nothing flighty or superficial about it — even as a kid, I somehow understood that it was coming from a place of wisdom and gravitas. Smokey’s songs, both with the Miracles and as a solo artist, were never the gratuitously sleazy come-ons of a guy simply looking to get laid, wild expressions of uncontrollable passion, or angry outbursts inspired by the rejection of said passion. Sure, the Miracles released the occasional good-time dance tracks, like “Mickey’s Monkey,” “Going to a Go-Go” and “Come On Do the Jerk”; but Smokey was at his best when he sang of love as the greatest thing we can possibly attain, while also sagely acknowledging the damage that we so often cause ourselves and others in the pursuit of it.

Smokey would be justifiably legendary today just for the many hits he wrote for other Motown artists — “My Girl” by The Temptations, “Don’t Mess with Bill” by The Marvelettes, and “Ain’t That Peculiar” by Marvin Gaye, to name but three — but his own material really took things to the next level. When I came of record-spinning age, I spent uncounted hours marveling at my Aunt Geri’s copy of Smokey and the Miracles’ 3-LP Anthology set, especially the incredible run of 1967-68 hits on Side 4 that included “The Love I Saw I Saw In You Was Just a Mirage,” “More Love,” “I Second That Emotion,” “If You Can Want” and “Yester Love,” all of which spoke of love from a truly adult perspective, but also possessed an infectious warmth and sensitivity that no adolescent listener could possibly resist. I’ve always been a romantic by nature, but it was Smokey — more than any other artist by a long shot — who let me know that it was not only okay to be that way, but that it was also ultimately better to go through life with an open heart than an armored one…

Which is why my knees were practically knocking as I walked through the doors of his elegant Encino home, one afternoon in late November 2001. Not only was Smokey one of the all-time greats, but his songs had been hitting me squarely in the heart (and forcibly opening it up) since my adolescence. What do you say when you finally meet your guru? And what if he turns out to be a total jerk in person — or at least somehow shatters the mental image you’ve been cultivating for decades?