How Quincy Jones Cracked the Code on Collaboration

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The late creative genius brought out the best in every one of his musical partners

By any standards, it would have been the end of a remarkable run. Quincy Jones released Sounds…and Stuff Like That!! in the summer of 1978. The LP was the bookend to a series of albums where Jones refined his marriage of jazz, soul, gospel and R&B. The title track and lead single with Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson — and Chaka Khan singing lead vocals — was a concession to a marketplace that seemed to be passing Jones by. Yet Jones,?who passed away on Nov. 3, was only catching his breath; over the next three years, he would produce three albums (including his own) that would define the trajectory of Black pop for generations.

In his mid-40s, Jones might have been looking for another challenge when he agreed to produce the album that became Jackson’s Off the Wall. For all of his success in the music industry, he had yet to produce a signature album with a singular artist. Even his most iconic outing to date, Count Basie and Frank Sinatra’s It Might as Well Be Swing (1964), was produced by Sonny Burke, with Jones handling the arrangements. At his peak, Sinatra had Nelson Riddle as his arranger and producer; Jones had yet to find his Sinatra.

Perhaps “You Can’t Win,” Jackson’s most iconic moment from The Wiz, convinced Jones — who also had his eye on a young Luther Vandross, who contributed the song “A Brand New Day (Everybody Rejoice)”?— that Jackson might be his Sinatra. He certainly seemed to think Jackson was the future, enlisting the songwriting talents of Paul McCartney (“Girlfriend”) and Stevie Wonder (“I Can’t Help It”) for Jackson’s reboot of his solo career. Yet the most important recruit was a relatively unknown British keyboardist and songwriter Rod Temperton, whose claim to fame at that point was writing a first-generation Quiet Storm classic with Heatwave’s “Always and Forever.” It was Temperton’s pen that wrote “Rock With You,”?which, along with the Jackson-penned “Don’t Stop ’til You Get Enough,” topped the pop charts.

Off the Wall was a template for the Black crossover sound of the early 1980s, and Jones doubled down on that point when he went into the studio (with Rod Temperton) to produce George Benson the following year. Benson, a guitar virtuoso and heir-apparent to Wes Montgomery, broke through commercially years earlier with the surprising Breezin’ (1976), which sold 3 million copies and achieved the chart trifecta of topping the pop, R&B, and jazz charts.

Breezin’ was anchored by “This Masquerade,” which featured Benson’s solid, though supple, vocals, and a style seemingly drawn from the Quincy Jones playbook; Benson’s pairing with Jones seemed natural, if not inevitable. Benson had craved the pop stage as a singer since the earliest day of his career. But Benson wasn’t a twentysomething?Michael Jackson; he was more comfortable playing his guitar on a stool?than he ever would be moonwalking on stage.

Temperton contributed four tracks, including the singles “Love X Love,”?“Turn on Your Lamplight” (reprised from Heatwave), and the title track. In the lead single and title track “Give Me the Night,”?one can hear the production strategies that Jones deployed on Jackson’s “Off the Wall” and “Rock With You”; this is George Benson singing Michael Jackson’s music for the aunts and uncles. “Give Me the Night” was Benson’s first single to top the R&B charts, and the highest charting pop single, peaking at No. 4 and receiving four Grammys in 1980.

A month after Jones’ Grammy successes with Benson, he released his album The Dude, which would be nominated for 12 Grammys the following year, winning three. Like so many of Jones’ records from the previous decade, he was able to draw on a wide circle; Stevie Wonder contributed “Betcha Wouldn’t Hurt Me,”?which was a platform for Jones’ goddaughter Patti Austin, and one of the album’s five singles. Austin is also featured on the Temperton-penned single “Razzamatazz,” who composed and did vocal arrangements of four of the album’s tracks.

It was the presence of James Ingram that took The Dude to another level. Jones’ success with Jackson notwithstanding (Thriller was released the next year), it was Ingram who first became Jones’ Sinatra. The two highest-charting singles from The Dude, “One Hundred Ways” and “Just Once” (written by the pop tandem of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil), both featured James Ingram on lead vocals. Ingram’s performance of “Just Once” was nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Pop Performance by a Male Vocalist, while “One Hundred Ways” won the Grammy for Best R&B Performance by a Male Vocalist. A year later, Ingram and Austin joined vocals on Rod Temperton’s “Baby Come to Me” (produced by Jones), which topped the pop charts on the strength of the song’s placement in the “Luke and Laura” storyline on the soap opera General Hospital.

Though conventional thinking reads Quincy Jones work with Michael Jackson as the apex of his career, in many ways it is more apt to describe Thriller and certainly Bad, as the coda for a career that remains unmatched. Which is not to say that Jones didn’t continue to work, helping to orchestrate, literally and figuratively the recording of “We Are the World” (1985) and producing the film adaptation of Alice Walker’s The Color Purple with Steven Spielberg and others.

Jones’ Back on the Block (1989), featured nearly 50 years of Black performers including jazz vocalists Sarah Vaughan and Ella Fitzgerald (their last recordings); an A-list of rap artists including Big Daddy Kane, Kool Moe Dee, and Melle Mel; two generations of collaborators in Ray Charles and Chaka Khan, who share lead vocals on a remake of The Brothers Johnson’s “I’ll Be Good to You,”?and finally Tevin Campbell, on his debut recording “Tomorrow (A Better You, Better Me)” — all of which only scratches the surface of all the talent that Jones collected. The album fittingly closes with a quiet storm track for the ages, “The Secret Garden (Sweet Seduction Suite),” featuring Barry White, James Ingram, El DeBarge and Al B. Sure.

By the time of Jones’ last studio album Q: Soul Bossa Nostra (2010), a tribute album that featured contemporary R&B, gospel and hip-hop artists with mixed results, he was settling into his role as the uncle who had long lost his filter. It was a measure of how much the industry had changed that the press spent more time on Jones' lurid tales?than recording his thoughts about the broad history of the music. Jones left a treasure trove of information, befitting the person who was Black culture’s institutional memory; there is surely no one alive who can replace him in that role. In that regard, the music speaks for itself, and Off the Wall, Give Me the Night and The Dude are the best places to begin the conversation.

—Mark Anthony Neal

The Secret Sauce of Black ’90s Sitcoms, According to Dorien Wilson

The scripted comedy mainstay who helped make shows like Moesha and The Parkers iconic speaks on the brilliance and demise of a genre

UpRising: As someone who appeared in virtually every notable Black sitcom in the 1990s, can you explain to us the magic of that era and genre of television series? Why did it resonate the way it did, and why did it ultimately go away?

Dorien Wilson: It was a combination of things. The shows that were successful, it wasn't just one person; it was an ensemble cast. The Parkers, Living Single, Moesha — all of those shows had strong casts. The writing was so clever and funny and relatable. Everybody could say, “That's my auntie!” or “My brother acts just like that!” It was a mixture of all of that. The music, too.

The beautiful thing about ’90s shows as well: It was like doing theater. We had a live audience, so we had that instant response when me and Mo'Nique were doing something crazy. It's a naturally funny bit that they're hollering at. Of course, they'll add a laugh track in certain areas, but it was like doing theater. That was the beauty of it. Now they're trying to crank these things out. There's no live audience, so you just gotta feel where the funny [is].

By the end of The Parkers, we were making an absorbent amount [of money]. It was cheaper for the studio either to start a new show or get a reality show to cut the budget down. That’s basically what happened. My take on it, anyway. Reality TV [stars were] basically people who were unknown that didn't require a huge salary. They didn't have to have sets. That became an easy fix for studios. Now, it's social media people who don't have to have a bunch of talent, but they're good at what they do. I'm not taking anything away [from them], but that was the breakdown.

With all the streaming services, I'm seeing more and more that they are trying to bring back the traditional sitcom format. They were so well written back then. Characters were so defined. We could all relate to them and watch them as a family. —As told to John Kennedy _____

Wilson's touching new film, I'll Be There, is no laughing matter. Watch him bring the drama via?Amazon Prime?or Apple TV.

"I got old too fast and smart too late."

Self-awareness — we truly love to see it. Guess which wizened cultural icon got super real about aging in a fascinating, in-depth interview about friendship, forgiveness, and ego.

It's Pie Day!

Whether you're?hosting for the holidays or a guest asking the infamous question of what to bring, 27th Street Bakery should be on your shopping list this season

Welcome to chef/lifestyle expert Jazz Smollett’s new column, Dinner Party, a corner of UpRising to ponder all things food and culinary culture. Hope you’ve got an appetite!

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Walking into 27th Street Bakery is like entering your grandmother’s kitchen during the holidays.

This family-run business planted roots in Los Angeles in the 1930s, when Harry Patterson and his wife moved from Shreveport, Louisiana, during the great migration of Black folx in search of more opportunity on the West Coast. He brought along family recipes and beloved flavors reminiscent of Southern cooking.?

Patterson started with a full restaurant but the desserts became a mainstay. He later converted it into a bakery and gained a reputation for serving the best homemade pies in the city. Now run by third-generation owner Jeanette Bolden and her husband, Al, the landmark bakery is still the largest independent producer of sweet potato pies in the West, attracting customers from far and wide nearly a century later. The bakers still adhere to Patterson’s ethos of never cutting corners. (“We put the home back in homemade,” Bolden says.)

27th Street Bakery’s incredible offerings include their bestselling Sweet Potato Pie, Alberta’s Old-Fashioned Pecan Pie (named for Jeanette’s mother, second-generation owner), the dual-layered Sweet Potato Pecan Pie, and Sweet Pumpkin Pie (as they like to say at the bakery, “Sweet potato and pumpkin, together at last!”). Don’t forget the delectable cakes; Caramel Cheesecake and 7Up Cake are both winners.

If baking?from scratch isn't in the cards, you don’t have to settle for a generic grocery store pie. Get over to 27th Street Bakery in L.A. to savor desserts baked with love for the holidays.

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Take This Audio Doggie Bag With You

“Whatcha Gonna Do,” Shyne

One of hip-hop's most fascinating life stories is getting the documentary treatment. And we’re hella hyped. As we pregame for Shyne Po’s upcoming doc, The Honorable Shyne (out Nov. 18 on Hulu), run back this deep cut from his 2000 debut LP for a refresher on how this Brooklyn bomber used to give it up on the mic —?that is, before he found Judaism behind bars and a political career in Belize.

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