'I won’t be in the Old Jays’: The O’Jays, one of the defining acts of the Sound of Philadelphia, say they’re done releasing new music
"Keep it on a high note," says the O'Jays's Eddie Levert
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Eddie Levert and Walter Williams of the O’Jays may have been born and raised in Canton, Ohio, but their reputation for gutsy, harmonious, socially conscious hits is pure Philly. “I Love Music,” “Back Stabbers," “Love Train,” and “For the Love of Money,” which was used as the theme song for The Apprentice with Donald Trump were — and are still — the best representations of the Sound of Philadelphia.
The O’Jays, with third member Eric Grant, say they are retiring from recording with The Last Word, released April 26, which they claim is their final album.
I understand the idea of quitting when you’re on top, but having witnessed your live show recently, you guys are hitting all the big notes. Why quit at all?
Walter Williams: That’s a good question.
Eddie Levert: Keep it on a high note. The body, the wear and tear, being on the road. Age is playing a great part in this. I’m 76. I don’t want to go on stage with a walker or have people pitying me.
WW: Well, what just came into play is why we’re hanging it up — one minute you’re talking. The next minute, you’re gone [laughs].
EL: He says things like that [laughs].
The O’Jays are dark, man.
WW: I won’t be in the group ‘The Old Jays.’ As long as I feel good, though, and can give a quality performance, I’ll stick around. We’ll stay healthy and strong enough to perform this new album. It’s a good one. If the airplay stays good and — now, I’m not too familiar with this — the streaming stays excellent, things will happen.
When you began considering this album as a final statement, were there songs or messages you wanted to get out there?
WW: We have a long line of message songs, trying to educate people while they dance. “Love Train” remains our biggest and our broadest message. Yet, nothing is as pertinent as, say, [new single] “Above the Law,” which speaks truth to power. We weren’t aiming at anyone. It finds its own target. This administration has problems with that.
EL: With social media, we’re living in real time and everywhere at once. Things are unfair all over the world. We travel in countries where the governments are really corrupt, putting people under its thumbs, and its population living in poverty. The truth will win eventually, but in the meantime, a lot of people are going to get hurt.
You had your dealings with Donald Trump before he became president and after.
WW: Before he became president, he wanted to use “Love Train,” as “Trump Train.” He was immediately sent a cease-and-desist, and he did [desist]. We met him briefly during The Apprentice. He didn’t seem like such a bad guy. Maybe it’s the people around him — the ones in jail — are the bad people.
EL: [Laughing] Oh, man.
WW: Sometimes you get influenced by the wrong people. Either way, all this has to change. You can’t divide people who have to live together.
EL: Bad guy or good guy, what he’s doing is showing him in the worst light. He’s saying a lot of the wrong things. If you’re going to be president, you have to be a president for all the people, all the time.
WW: A song such as “Love Train” brought people from Germany, England, Russia — everywhere — to the song’s message. That’s our biggest song to date. People gravitate to the truth. They don’t want to be a party to dividing people and constantly causing chaos. There’s no place for that.
“Stand Up” on the new album speaks to that.
EL: Yes. The lyric about turning off the TV to avoid the news: I’ve done that. If you’ve got love to show, show it. Love wants to know your name.
Considering your time at Philadelphia International Records, and recording at Philadelphia’s Sigma Sound Studios, where were you hanging and living in town at that time?
WW: We would stay at 1 Buttonwood Square. We would go to Philly twice a year, would meet with 10 to 15 teams of writers, and would learn 40 songs easy. Out of those songs, the people who would prevail was McFadden and Whitehead, Gamble and Huff, Bunny Sigler, and sometimes Dexter Wansel. Thommy Bell slipped in there too sometimes. The strongest songs with the boldest lyrics — songs with meaning, love songs where you looked at relationships under a spyglass — came from them. The stuff recorded with other writers wound up in the infamous can. You know that can, the can full of songs that cost a lot of money to make?
EL: We were truly blessed to have those writers. There was something about the whole Brotherly Love thing, because there was real camaraderie. Just being in Philly with Kenny, Leon, and the guys — they embraced me, and they gave me the chance to be all that I could be, because those songs were such that I could sing my teeth into. It was a very educational period, brought me into my own.
WW: Right across the street from where we hung was the Fantasy Lounge. I think I encountered lots of love there. I personally had a good time in Philly because — like Eddie — being around Gamble and Huff, I learned a lot about myself, a lot of the chemistry of writing a great song and producing it so that it didn’t lose anything. The vocal only made it bigger, better, and greater. I took that with me from Philly. What happened in the Fantasy Lounge stayed in the Fantasy Lounge.