God Save Teddy Pendergrass And All Who Sail In Him
My mother gave me a lot of things — and I’m sure yours did, too — but one of the things I’ve always regarded as special was the luxurious sonic backdrop she and her then-teenage sisters provided for my early childhood. Some of my earliest memories are of house parties at my uncle’s house on Memphis Street, at the height of the disco era, where a big amber-lit Onkyo stereo receiver pumped out music that, for reasons I will not go into here, took me far too long to get back to and acknowledge as Some Of The Greatest Music I’ve Ever Heard: Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors. Silk Degrees by Boz Scaggs. One Man Band by Ronnie Dyson. Anything by The Spinners. But my mom’s favorite was always Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes — especially the Teddy Pendergrass era of the group. As a result, it’s been impossible for me to not link this whole golden period of personal and pop culture history with those records, those singers, and the party going on downstairs that I was far too young for.
In the 1970s and 1980s, this city was, to be sure, a place that was far more divided racially than it is now. This was the era, let’s not forget, of Rizzo blasting M.O.V.E. members with fire hoses. But growing up here, I always got the impression that, for this strange extended pre-disco-then-disco moment at least, all of Philadelphia shared in — and indeed, rejoiced and reveled in — the excitement and genius surrounding The Sound Of Philadelphia. And Teddy Pendergrass, more than just about any other performer of that time and place I suppose, was the living embodiment of the Gamble & Huff ethos. He exuded cosmopolitan flash and brazen Saturday night sexuality all while performing within shouting distance (and oh, man, that shout) of neighborhood, the church, and the loves he’d lost. We could all relate. He was like Marvin Gaye, only a lot less conflicted about the admitted contradictions of his life and his time. Which, by every account, made him a lot more fun to be around. And I have to admit — having not really lived through this Philadelphia moment the first time around, I’ve been hoping like hell it’d come back around ever since I realized what that moment was about. As sad as the news of Teddy’s passing is, it’s been great today, delving into his music and its place and reflecting on that time in this city. We probably won’t see the likes of Teddy Pendergrass again, but if this day has taught me one thing, it’s this: I sure hope we do anyway. R.I.P.
– Joey Sweeney
