Ashford & Simpson: The Architects of the Solid Foundation ✍️🎼👩‍❤️‍👨

What happens when two master builders join forces to create the ultimate Vocal Infrastructure? You get the powerhouse duo of Nickolas Ashford & Valerie Simpson. 💎🔥 In this episode, Max & Mello deconstruct the couple who wrote the "Blueprints of Love" for Motown and then built their own legendary skyscraper as artists. 🏙️✨

Opening the Blueprints on:

• ⛪ The Gospel Garage: How they met in Harlem’s White Rock Baptist Church and turned "Sacred Energy" into "Secular Success." 🎹✨

• 🏎️ The Motown Assembly Line: Inside the hit-making lab where they engineered classics for Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell. Learn how they built "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" into a global anthem. 🏔️🎤

• 🛡️ The "Solid" Independence: How they transitioned from behind-the-scenes Architects to front-and-center Superstars. 🏢🔥

• 💍 The Partnership Protocol: The business and creative lessons of a 38-year "Joint Venture" that never crumbled. 🏗️❤️

For every "New Vibe" peer: Ashford & Simpson prove that Synergy is a Power Move. Learn how to build a creative partnership that is "Solid as a Rock." 🪨🏗️

Don't just listen—feel the foundation. Subscribe now! 🎧💥

••Max & Mello's Architects of Soul' isn't just a podcast – it's an experience. Join the conversation. Learn something new. Feel the music like never before."so come along for the ride ✨

https://feeds.buzzsprout.com/2507346.rss

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:09

Hey, welcome back, Soul Family. You are locked into Max and Mello's Architects of Soul. This is season two and episode seven. I'm Max, and with my brother Mello, we are on a journey to uncover the blueprints of the legends who built the sounds that we cherish.

SPEAKER_00 0:23

And in every episode, we're asking how do these timeless lessons from the past ignite the soul fire in today's artists? How? How? And helping us shape the future of RB and Soul. This week we're talking about two unparalleled figures: the dynamic duo, the married architects of emotion, Nicholas Ashford and Valerie Simpson.

SPEAKER_01 0:41

Yeah, their story isn't just about songwriting. It's about transformation, resilience, and the sheer power of artistic vision. Let's dive in and talk about their humble beginnings to becoming Motown's secret weapon.

SPEAKER_00 0:52

All right, Max. Let's start at the very beginning. Nick Ashford, a young man from Michigan, moves from New York with practically nothing. He ends up sleeping on a park bench, then finds refuge in a Harlem church. Sounds like the opening scene of a movie, right?

SPEAKER_01 1:06

Oh, absolutely. And it's in that church, the White Rock Baptist Church, that he meets a 17-year-old piano prodigy named Valerie Simpson. Now, this isn't just a chance to encounter, it's destiny for soul music. They connected over songwriting. Nick with the lyrics and Valerie with the music.

SPEAKER_00 1:22

Think about that for a second. Two people from completely different walks of life in that moment, but with a shared passion for creating. Their early songs sold for$25, maybe a hundred if they were lucky, just so Nick could get off the streets.

SPEAKER_01 1:34

That was pretty cool of her to even think about doing this. Oh shit, yeah.

SPEAKER_00 1:43

You know, it really is.

SPEAKER_01 1:44

Oh, we should have known that.

SPEAKER_00 1:45

But the connection to your craft and finding your creative partner can be everything.

SPEAKER_01 1:48

Exactly. And that early hustle led to their first big break. And this is the ultimate hustle and flow story, Melalog. It's the moment the architects went from selling songs for lunch money to changing the landscape of American music. So cool.

SPEAKER_00 2:00

Right, Max. The song was Let's Go Get Stoned. And his journey to Ray Charles is a masterclass in persistence.

SPEAKER_01 2:07

It sure was.

SPEAKER_00 2:08

It's 1964. Nick and Valerie were staff writers at Scepter Records, the home of Dion Warwick. They were making about 30 bucks a week as a draw. But one afternoon they were hanging out with a third songwriter, Joshy Armstead.

SPEAKER_01 2:21

And you know, as in every studio office or place of work in the downtime, they're joking around about being broke and tired, and someone said, Hey, let's go get stoned.

SPEAKER_00 2:28

Yes, Max. Now, in the context of 1964, stoned was often a slang for getting a drink or getting high or just escaping the grind.

SPEAKER_01 2:36

Obviously a quick subject because they banged that song out in about 15 minutes as a bluesy gospel style shout. But they didn't give it to Ray Charles first. They actually gave it to a vocal group called The Coasters, famous for yakity yak and for a horn player that we remember from our first season named King Curtis.

SPEAKER_00 2:51

And if you get a chance, go back and check it out. It's well worth the time as we see the strings between these architects keep intertwining.

SPEAKER_01 2:58

Yeah, Melo. It's one of the things that I love about doing this show. So anyway, the Coasters recorded the first version of Let's Go Get Stone in 1965 with King Curtis on Sachs. But it it didn't do much on the charts. It was a nice try, but it lacked the weight that the lyrics suggested. So it ended up that the real architect move happened through their publisher at Scepter.

SPEAKER_00 3:16

Trevor Burrus, Jr. You just never know who's going to touch that stone and the door opens.

SPEAKER_01 3:19

That's so true.

SPEAKER_00 3:20

Or the architect behind the desk who saw that potential in that song. His name was Ed Silvers.

SPEAKER_01 3:25

Even more true. Ed Silvers is a great example of the gatekeeper who actually opens the door. Now at the time, he was head of publishing for Scepter Records, and he was the one who gave Nick and Valerie that small office in New York to work in so they could get Nick off the streets. So while Nick and Valerie were the creative force, Silvers was the strategist. And you really need someone that sees that. And Silvers didn't just dump a tape on Ray Charles' desk. No. He knew that Ray was moving towards a more country soul and a bluesy sound for his crying time record in 66. Now check this out, Solfan. The wildest stroke of intelligence on Ed Silver's part, I love this. Ray had just come out of a well-publicized rehab stint. And Silvers realized that the title, Hey, let's go get stoned, well, would create a massive buzz and controversy sung by Ray, which makes tons of sense. And because Ray Charles was a genius pianist himself, Ed made sure that Ray heard the demo featuring Valerie's piano playing, her gospel heavy piano playing. It was Valerie's churchy arrangement that reportedly convinced Ray the song was well worth his time.

SPEAKER_00 4:24

Exactly, Max. Ed knew that Ray Charles was looking for material that bridged the gap between his gospel roots and the modern soul sound. They sent a demo of the song to Ray's team. And when Ray heard Valerie's piano playing and the churchy structure of the song, he realized it was perfect secular hymn.

SPEAKER_01 4:39

I bet he did.

SPEAKER_00 4:40

Yes, so then Ray recorded it and released it in 1966, right after he had returned from a hiatus following his own well-publicized legal troubles.

SPEAKER_01 4:48

And because Ray Charles had struggled with addiction, the public interpreted Let's Go Get Stoned as a bold autobiographical statement. And guess what? It went to number one on the RB charts and stayed there for weeks. And here is the key takeaway: the architect must know their client. So think about it. Ashford and Simpson wrote the song, the coasters sang the song, Ray Charles lived the song. Nick Ashford once said that seeing Ray Charles take the song to number one was the moment they realized they weren't just songwriters, they were storytellers.

SPEAKER_00 5:18

And that song wasn't just a hit, it was a beacon. It caught the ear of Harlan Doja Holland at Motown, and that gave them the opportunity for a meeting at Motown, where they eventually became the primary architects for Marvin Gaye and Tammy Tyrell.

SPEAKER_01 5:30

An amazing story.

SPEAKER_00 5:31

Yeah. And suddenly these two kids from New York were brought into the Motown machine. It speaks to the power of a single undeniable song. And as artists today, that one track that truly captures your essence, that grabs attention is still the key to unlocking doors.

SPEAKER_01 5:46

Amen, Mellow. Amen. They didn't just walk into Motown. They burst in with a fresh, sophisticated sound that would redefine the label's next era. They are about to become the architects of what we call Uptown Soul. We'll be right back with more from the architects Ashford and Simpson after this quick break.

SPEAKER_00 6:00

And you're listening to Max and Mellow's Architects of Soul, and today we're talking Ashford and Simpson.

SPEAKER_01 6:05

Stick around, we'll be right back.

SPEAKER_00 6:42

Before we dive into more of Ashwin Simpson's incredible story, if you like this content, or if you're picking up what we're putting down, that's right, if you eat and what was feeding you. Please give a like and subscribe to our channel. And remember there's a video version available on our YouTube page if you feel like watching instead of just listening.

SPEAKER_01 6:57

Exactly. Join us if you would. So we talked about their early entry into Motown Mellow. Now let's talk about their signature, vocal choreography. So Nick and Valerie didn't just write songs, they wrote dialogue. They created these intricate vocal arrangements where singers weren't just harmonizing, they were having a conversation. And think about the duets of Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrell.

SPEAKER_00 7:16

That call and response, the back and forth, made you feel like you were eavesdropping on an intimate moment.

SPEAKER_01 7:21

Yeah, it was sweet.

SPEAKER_00 7:22

Yeah, it brought a whole new level of emotional depth to soul music. For us as modern artists, that lesson in building a narrative, a conversation within the song, whether it's with a featured artist or even within your own multitract vocals, is so powerful. It engages the listener beyond just the melody.

SPEAKER_01 7:38

Exactly, Mel. And speaking of intimate moments, we have to talk about one of the most poignant and ethically complex stories in Motown history. And that's Valerie Simpson becoming the ghost in the machine for Tammy Tyrrell.

SPEAKER_00 7:48

Yeah, this is heavy.

SPEAKER_01 7:49

Oh, it's so heavy.

SPEAKER_00 7:50

Tammy Tyrrell, Marvin Gaye's duet partner, was tragically battling a brain tumor. She was too ill to record. And Motown being Motown and a Barry being Barry. Motown had contracts to fulfill. So they turned to Valerie. Her task wasn't just to sing Tammy's parts, but it was to become Tammy Tyrrell.

SPEAKER_01 8:07

And this is the part of the story that brings the soul fire down to a whisper. I can't even imagine how she had to do this. This is a profound look at the emotional weight of being a vocal architect when the building is literally crumbling. The conflict Valerie Simpson felt wasn't just professional. It was a deep moral struggle. Just think of the ethical weight of the deception. Valerie was incredibly close to Tammy Toreau. They weren't just colleagues, they were friends. Valerie described the sessions for the album easy as bittersweet and heart wrenching.

SPEAKER_00 8:34

Imagine the conflict, Max.

SPEAKER_01 8:35

I I can't even begin to.

SPEAKER_00 8:37

Yeah, because Valerie felt like she was participating in a necessary lie. She knew that the public wanted Tammy, and the label demanded Tammy.

SPEAKER_01 8:43

Oh, they won't she those two were a thing.

SPEAKER_00 8:46

Right, but Tammy physically couldn't be there.

SPEAKER_01 8:48

No.

SPEAKER_00 8:49

Every time Valerie stepped up to the mic to mimic Tammy's voice, she felt like she was erasing her friend's presence while trying to preserve her legacy.

SPEAKER_01 8:56

It's quite a dichotomy.

SPEAKER_00 8:57

Right. And she has stated in later years that she felt a massive responsibility to do it perfectly. Not for the charts, but so that Tammy wouldn't be forgotten or replaced by someone who didn't care.

SPEAKER_01 9:06

And who is that? That's a real friend. That's who that is. And let's not forget about what this did to Marvin Gay, who was only able to amplify the conflict. Marvin was notoriously sensitive, and he was deeply in love with Tammy. Platonically or otherwise, their bond was sacred. And Marvin knew it wasn't Tammy in the booth. He reportedly found the sessions cold and corporate. And Valerie had to navigate Marvin's grief while trying to get him to sing love duets with a ghost.

SPEAKER_00 9:30

It's true, Max. Valerie had to be the emotional anchor for Marvin, essentially telling him we have to do this for her. She was acting as a producer, a singer, and a therapist all at once. For a singer and an artist, your voice is your soul. Valerie's a phenomenal singer in her own right. But for this project, she had to suppress her own identity, which meant sacrifice.

SPEAKER_01 9:49

A soul sacrifice, actually. Literally. And sadly, Mello, she did. She had to tuck away her own technical precision to adapt Tammy's grid. She wasn't allowed to take credit. She had to stay in the shadows. This is the ultimate architect lesson. Sometimes you build the monument, but someone else's name goes on the plaque.

SPEAKER_00 10:05

And the most touching part of the story was that Valerie never went to the press, Max. She kept the secret of the ghost singing for a decade. Yeah, she sure did. Yeah, out of respect for Tammy's family. It was only when Motown historians began to deconstruct the masters that the truth was fully acknowledged.

SPEAKER_01 10:20

Right, or to shit on them, really, is what they were doing. So you know the y they're always trying to sully the memory of someone. These are the things that bother us. That's that's why these architects are to be held up and lauded for what they've done. So for the Soul Brothers, this is a resilience lesson, and we frame it as the burden of the builder. Sometimes as an artist or call to hold up the sky for someone else who can't stand anymore. Valerie didn't do it for the fame. She did it to protect the music and her friend's dignity. She had to embody Tammy's vocal style, her phrasing, her unique grasp, so that Marvin would have a partner to interact with on the easy album. Songs like Good Love and Ain't Easy to Come By and The Onion Song are believed to feature Valerie's voice.

SPEAKER_00 10:57

It's a testament to Valerie's genius and versatility as a vocal architect.

SPEAKER_01 11:01

It is.

SPEAKER_00 11:01

But it also highlights the intense pressure and frankly the sometimes difficult realities of the music business back then.

SPEAKER_01 11:07

And I think today too.

SPEAKER_00 11:08

Yeah. It asks us artists today, what compromises do you make for your art, for your career, and for the industry? Valerie did it out of respect and to fulfill a need. But it was a haunting situation for everyone involved, especially Marvin.

SPEAKER_01 11:20

And it speaks volumes about the dedication required, not just to write, but to perform and produce with such integrity, even under the most tragic circumstances. Valerie's ability to chameleon her voice for Tammy, well, it's legendary. And when we come back, we're going to talk about how Ashford and Simpson took Diana Ross from Supreme to Solo Superstar. We're kicking in with Max and Mellow's Architects of Soul, taking a deep dive into Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson. Stick with us.

SPEAKER_00 12:35

Let's pick up the story with Ashwin Simpson's next huge challenge, transforming Diana Ross into a solo power hops.

SPEAKER_01 12:42

That's right, Melo. When Diana left the Supremes in 1970, there was skepticism. Could she stand alone? This highlights a pivotal moment where the architects had to prove their blueprint was superior to the factory standard.

SPEAKER_00 12:52

Yes, Max, by 1970, Diana Ross was leaving the Supremes and it was the biggest gamble in the history of the label. Barry Gordy was terrified of her failing.

SPEAKER_01 13:00

Oh, I bet he was.

SPEAKER_00 13:01

Right, and the skepticism toward Ashwin Simpson was intense.

SPEAKER_01 13:03

Oh, it's true, Mellet. Despite their success with Marvin and Tammy, many executives at Motown viewed Nick and Valerie as specialists who only knew how to write for duets. The power producers at the label, like Norman Whitfield or Harlan Dozier Holland, were the heavyweights. So Nick and Valerie, what? Couldn't do it? The front office doubted if Valerie and Nick could craft a diva persona that was sophisticated enough to handle the Waldorf Astoria. But again, that's the kind of thing that these people do. They put you in a box and they don't expect you can do anything. And then then you gotta surprise them.

SPEAKER_00 13:33

Yeah, but Barry Gordy eventually gave them the shot, Max.

SPEAKER_01 13:35

That's true.

SPEAKER_00 13:36

The pressure was to succeed or get out.

SPEAKER_01 13:38

That's exactly right. It certainly was. And we've heard that it's like we never heard that from Barry before, right? And when they brought the solo version of A Mountain high enough, it nearly caused a mutiny in the quality control meeting.

SPEAKER_00 13:48

Uh-oh. Here comes the conflict.

SPEAKER_01 13:50

Line on the wall. Right you are, Mello. At the time, radio hits were supposed to get to the chorus in about 15 seconds, and I'm sure Barry had a stopwatch on. Nick and Valerie's version had a nearly two-minute spoken word buildup. And of course, the execs told them people don't want to hear Diana Ross talk. They want to hear her sing the hook. They thought the song was too long, too operatic, and completely wrong for radio.

SPEAKER_00 14:09

They did indeed, Max, but Nick and Valerie refused to cut it.

SPEAKER_01 14:12

They stood tall.

SPEAKER_00 14:13

Yeah, they argued that Diana needed to be reintroduced as a sophisticated, mature woman. They were building a moment, not just a jingle. This was only after a DJ in New York started playing the long version that the phones went crazy that the label backed down.

SPEAKER_01 14:26

And it didn't end there, Mello. During the recording of the Surrender album, Ashrod and Simpson wanted to pull a raw, greedy soul vocal out of Diana, something she really hadn't shown with the Supremes. And to get that vocal bite that they wanted, they made her record her parts over and over until she was exhausted. Motown staff were skeptical that Diana's dainty image could handle that kind of church intensity.

SPEAKER_00 14:46

And the result was that when the track Surrender was finished, Max, the label was stunned. Diana sounded powerful, almost desperate. Valerie Simpson later said that they wanted to see if they could make the Princess of Pop sweat.

SPEAKER_01 14:57

Well, apparently they could.

SPEAKER_00 14:59

Yes, they proved that she was a powerhouse vocalist, silencing the critics who thought she was a produced talent.

SPEAKER_01 15:04

Yeah, and then they sung for the stars, Melo. Their first single for her was a waltz. Reach out and touch. Let's just say Mello Motown was really skeptical. Hope bet they were. The Motown Brass, a three-quarter time signature, was commercial suicide for a leadoff solo single. They wanted a stomping 4-4 beat. Bang, the four on the floor. Let's have it, right? But Nick and Valer insisted it had to be a social anthem to establish Diana as a leader. Now it didn't go to number one, but think about this. It became her signature closing song for the next 50 years. I'd say that's a big deal. They were building her for longevity, not just a week on the charts.

SPEAKER_00 15:36

And the lesson for modern architects in the battle for first impression, don't chase the hook, chase the feeling. Nick and Valerie proved that the vibe and the build are often more memorable than the chorus.

SPEAKER_01 15:46

Oh, exactly, Mello. Even the biggest stars need architects who aren't afraid to push them out of their comfort zone. So stand on your blueprint. If you know the math works, don't let the office tell you how to build your house. Ashton Simpson didn't just give Diana Ross songs. They gave her a throne. And they had to fight the whole Motown Kingdom to make sure she sat on it.

SPEAKER_00 16:02

They didn't want her to just sing pretty pop. They wanted her to sound expensive, dramatic, and fiercely independent. It's the Queen. And that three, four time waltz, which is uh her very first solo single, Reach Out and Touch Somebody's Hand, a risky move, as we said.

SPEAKER_01 16:16

Oh, big time.

SPEAKER_00 16:17

Yeah, one that forced Diana into a lower, more authoritative register, immediately establishing her forever as a leader, not just a front woman.

SPEAKER_01 16:24

Damn straight, Mello. They stood their ground. I love that. They stood their ground. Another familiar string among these architects is soul, proving that a producer's vision, even when it clashes with the label's boss, can sometimes create the most iconic art. It's a powerful lesson for us today. Trust your artistic instincts, even when the industry tries to pull you towards the familiar.

SPEAKER_00 16:43

Exactly. And on the Surrender album, they pushed Diana even further, finding the sole queen beneath the pop prince's veneer. They made her vocal cords work almost to the point of breaking to convey raw emotion. It's a masterclass in how an architect guides an artist to discover new depths within themselves. For any artist collaborating with a producer today, finding someone who genuinely challenges you to grow is everything.

SPEAKER_01 17:04

Sounds like something that uh we're kind of intimately familiar with, right?

SPEAKER_00 17:08

Yeah.

SPEAKER_01 17:09

Gotta love it. That's that's a great gift that music is. It truly is. Well, we're gonna take another quick break, and when we come back, we're gonna talk about how Ashford and Citizen came full circle with Gladys tonight, so don't go anywhere.

SPEAKER_00 17:18

You're chilling with Max and Mellows, Architects of Souls. That's right, don't go nowhere. Remember, if you enjoy this content, give us a like and subscribe to our channel. And for those who prefer visuals, there's a video version waiting for you on our YouTube page.

SPEAKER_01 18:16

That's right, so if you feel like watching, you can. Otherwise, listen away. So, no, after their intense success at Motown, Nick and Valerie decided to forge their own path, which absolutely figures. Not just as writers and producers, but as performing artists themselves. Sounds a little familiar, only on a much bigger level for them. Anyway, this is crucial for artists today. Understanding when it's time to build your own house, not just rooms in someone else's. And really, that's truly what it's all about as far as workers.

SPEAKER_00 18:41

Absolutely. They eventually had their own hits like Found a Cure, and of course, the iconic Solid as a Rock.

SPEAKER_01 18:46

It's a great song.

SPEAKER_00 18:47

Right. But before that, they came full circle to help another Motown legend. By 1980, Gladys Knight and the Pips were navigating the post-disco era. Recovering from legal battles with Motown, they needed a new sound of resurgence.

SPEAKER_01 19:06

She had left Motown, gone to Buddha Records, and was now transitioning to Columbia Records. Now she knew she couldn't afford a miss. Her logic at that point, well, Gladys felt the industry was trying to turn into a generic disco singer, and she was not having that. She famously said she wanted producers who knew her heart, and who better to call than her old friends Nick and Valerie. She personally reached out to Nick and Valerie because they shared a musical shorthand from the Detroites just to see if they'd be game.

SPEAKER_00 19:29

Gladys knew that Valerie Simpson wouldn't just give her a beat. She would give her a vocal arrangement that respected her range. There was trust there. Now they needed a strategist, and his name was Barry Hankerson. Hankerson, who would later become a legendary and controversial figure in the industry managing Aaliyah and R. Kelly.

SPEAKER_01 19:46

That's right, Melbourne. Oh, it is a whole other conversation. But he was instrumental in the business side, and everybody needs someone who knows the business. So he understood that for Gladys to be successful at a major label like Columbia, she needed a prestige producer. Since there was a firm early relationship, and Ashford and Simpson were at the height of their solo fame with found a cure, well, bringing them on wasn't just an artistic choice. It was definitely a power move to show Columbia that Gladys was still A-list.

SPEAKER_00 20:10

So they set up a meeting. The reunion happened at Nick and Valerie's home in New York. Unlike the Motown days, where a department had assigned producers to artists, this was a meeting of equals.

SPEAKER_01 20:19

Which is a believe me, unlike the Motown days. Right.

SPEAKER_00 20:23

So they sat around the piano, and Valerie played some early sketches of what would become the About Love album. Gladys reportedly heard the chords and said, Finally, someone who knows how to talk to me.

SPEAKER_01 20:32

And that's where it starts, Mello. The story of Landlord is a quintessential architect moment because it represents a high-stakes reunion. Ashford and Simpson had left Motown years earlier, and Gladstone and the Pip were struggling with legal battles and a shifting musical landscape. What a recipe. Well, when they reconnected for the About Love album, they weren't just making a record. They were reclaiming their collective power. Nick Ashford was the master of the urban metaphor. He wanted a song that spoke to the grit of city life but applied to a relationship.

SPEAKER_00 20:56

First, the concept. Valerie Simpson recalls Nick pacing around the studio trying to find words that sounded street but felt soulful. He landed on lines like you haven't done a repair in a week and the faucet in the kitchen is development league.

SPEAKER_01 21:16

Ain't that some shit?

SPEAKER_00 21:17

Gladys initially laughed, but she wondered if it was too literal. Nick insisted that the relatability of a bad landlord would hit home with their audience. Exactly, Max. They essentially talked back to Gladys throughout the song, punctuating her complaints with sharp, funky interjections, making the song feel like a neighborhood conversation. It transformed a standard RB track into a literal piece of street soul.

SPEAKER_01 21:51

Then they did what I live to do. They used the no vocal booth technique. To get the energy right, Ashton and Simpson, acting as producers, wanted to break the sterile studio vibe. Recorded much of the album with everyone in the room together to capture the live chemistry they had back in the Motown days. I love that shit. Gladys famously noted that Nick and Valerie didn't just sit behind the glass, they were out on the floor dancing and conducting the energy while she sang. They pushed Gladys to use a tougher tone than her usual ballads, matching the driving post disco bass line. So they'd record it in the same room they mixed in, which is what we do. It's a great vibe being next to the singer and the singer being next to you, and to be able to tell them what you want and let them feel what you were feeling. Man, that's a great groove.

SPEAKER_00 22:29

Landlord became a massive hit on the RB charts, and it served as a message to the industry. And that message, both the artists, Gladys Knight and the Pips, and the producers, Ashford and Simpson, had left the Motown machine and proved that they could create a chart topping culturally relevant sound on their own terms. It proved that the blueprints, the songs, and the builders, the talent, are more important than the company, the label.

SPEAKER_01 22:50

Definitely, definitely. Well, for Max and Mell's Architects of Soul, Landlord is a prime example of the pivot. In 1980, the world was moving towards disco and synth pop. But Ashford and Simpson looked at Gladys and I and said, We're gonna give you something funky, something literal, and something soulful. They didn't chase the trend. They built a new house around the legend. And why this matters for today's artists, it shows that you can use everyday struggles like dealing with the landlord to create high art. It's about relatability as an architecture.

SPEAKER_00 23:16

Landlord is such a great example of their genius. It's a funky urban metaphor for love that totally put Gladys back on the charts. And once again, Asher and Simpson utilize the Pips as not just as background singers, but as a dynamic Greek chorus, echoing Gladys' frustrations, adding layers of narrative.

SPEAKER_01 23:32

It speaks volumes about the lasting relationship in music and how trusted collaborators can help an artist reinvent themselves across different eras. For modern artists, building a strong, reliable team of producers and writers who understand your voice can be the key to longevity.

SPEAKER_00 23:45

And then they're solid. That song released in 1984 wasn't just a hit.

SPEAKER_01 23:49

It was a great song.

SPEAKER_00 23:50

Right. It was became an anthem about their own 20-year journey as a couple and as creative partners. It was a statement that they were solid, their love was solid, and their legacy was solid.

SPEAKER_01 23:59

Pretty badass, if you ask me. Absolutely. It showcased their ability to take their own real life story and craft it into a universal message. As artists, that vulnerability, that willingness to share your own truth, well, it's often what connects most deeply with an audience. Ashton and Simpson lived their art, and they wrote about living their art. And we're gonna take a break, then we're gonna come back and put a bow on this puppy and give you our final thoughts on the enduring lessons from Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson. Don't move to the house. So Mello, Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson's journey gives us so many blueprints for touching today's RB and soul artists. From their early grind, finding their sound to battling for their artistic vision with Motown, and ultimately forging their own path as performers.

SPEAKER_00 25:26

Indeed they do, Max. Coming up and listening and hearing their growth and impact on this music we loved was inspiring. Their impact lies in their unique blend of gospel passion, Valerie's sophisticated piano compositions, Nick's poetic and often theatrical lyrics. They didn't just write songs, they constructed emotional experiences that audiences felt in their bones. As we inspired to do the same with our viewers.

SPEAKER_01 25:46

We sure do. 100%, Noah. 100%. They taught us the power of vocal choreography, of building a narrative within a song. They showed us the importance of creative conviction, fighting for your artistic choices, even against the most powerful forces in the industry, standing up for what they believed in and not being shoved aside. Not being silly when I say hail to these architects. Their paths teach us how to tread our paths. And so the song goes, Mellow.

SPEAKER_00 26:09

It truly does, Max. And let's not forget they demonstrate the absolute strength of a long-term partnership, both creatively and personally, and how that chemistry can manifest in timeless music. For current and upcoming artists, the lesson is clear. Cultivate your unique sound, nurture your collaborations, and never compromise your artistic integrity.

SPEAKER_01 26:27

Never, never. They were true architects, Mellow, building bridges of emotion that allowed artists to cross from one sound to another, from one era to the next, always with integrity and soul. And as always, we want to close with our final thought and our hope for all of us our art, our craft, and our creations.

SPEAKER_00 26:41

Keep that soul fire burning, protect your sound, nurture your creativity, own your voice, and remember the lessons from the giants who came before.

SPEAKER_01 26:50

And yes, protect your masters and seek out wise mentors who can guide you on your journey. And until next we meet, peace and soul, y'all.