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R.I.P. Marvin Gaye – Here Are His Best Songs

When the singer was killed on his 45th birthday in 1984, he was at the pinnacle of his career.

Marvin Gaye

Photo by Eugene Adebari/Shutterstock

On this day in 1984, Marvin Gaye was shot and killed at the apex of his career.

Since his early days in Motown's ranks, Gaye was always a tastemaker. Initially a reclusive drummer, Gaye quietly emerged onto the 1960s Motown scene with a handful of early doo-wop hits. When crooning began to dominate mainstream radio, Gaye shifted with the tide and positioned himself as a crooner in his own right with hits like "My Funny Valentine and "How High The Moon." He then naturally dove into the world of R&B before pivoting for a brief stint in psychedelia with an acclaimed reimagining of Dion and Beatles songs. As the 70s brought on disco and sly funk, Gaye curated his own material to add to the exploding genre.

All of it was so naturally Gaye. He was an unstoppable musical polymath who could easily switch with the times, making his senseless murder on his 45th birthday all the more depressing. His endless musical cache about societal ills and personal heartbreak would eventually inspire the talents of Drake and The Weeknd, just to name a few. In honor of the legendary singer, here are a few of his best moments.

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)

A 1960s Motown classic, this infectious jam came after a seemingly abundant number of smash hits from songwriters Brian Holland and Eddie Holland, and the way Gaye sings it with a glint in his eye became almost more iconic than the earworm itself. "Try as they might, no other vocalist could combine those two sensibilities as Gaye does here," wrote Stereogum, "bringing to life the guy that you wanted to bring home to meet mom and then sneak off to the bathroom for a quickie before dinner is served."

That’s The Way Love Is

Another earworm, "That's the Way Love Is" wasn't written for Gaye, but the soul for which Gaye calls out "that's the way love is, babe" would suggest otherwise. A lot of Gaye's early work through 1970 wasn't written by the balladeer, but his ability to elevate lyrics with emotional transparency became a niche, if not extremely marketable, talent for Gaye. On this cover of the Isley Brothers hit, Gaye enlists the help of the Funk Brothers to turn the track into a bouncy R&B smash.

I Heard It Through The Grapevine

While Gladys Knight's rendition turned the soulful ballad into a funky chart-topper, Gaye's arresting rendition of "I Heard It" will always remain superior. While Motown head Berry Gordy preferred Knight's interpretation, Gaye's rendition surprisingly caught the attention of radio DJs, who spun the track so much Gordy allowed Gaye's version to be released as a stand-alone single. Over 50 years later, and the track remains as raw and powerful as ever. The scarcity of its arrangement allows Gaye's backing string section to soar, while Gaye sings frankly about budding infidelity as if he's experiencing the roller-coaster of heartbreak in real-time. The song would go on to be Gaye's first US smash.

Marvin Gaye - Lets get it on

While Gaye's legendary love-making anthem was originally billed to him by Ed Townsend as a religious ballad, Gaye reworked it into the classic love-making hit we all know and adore. Lyrically inspired by Janis Hunter, Gaye's eventual wife, "Let's Get It On" was crammed onto so many sex playlists that it became a cliche, but for years, it was the most seductive song in the country, thanks to Gaye's smooth vocals and unrestrained passion. You could practically hear him taking off his clothes.

Sexual Healing

Listed by Rolling Stone as one of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, "Sexual Healing" became Gaye's calling card later in life. Riddled with IRS woes and cocaine addiction, Gaye moved to Belgium where he became introduced to Reggae. In 2012, Gordon Banks told The Atlantic that the lyrics were inspired by Gaye's intrigue for Amsterdam's Red Light District, to which his producer David Ritz said that he needs "sexual healing." Prior to 2012, a rumor floated around that Gaye's lyrical inspiration came from Gaye's sadomasochist comic book collection.

Marvin Gaye's "Lost" Album Is a Time Machine and a Mirror

You're The Man, the intended follow-up to his masterpiece What's Going On, is a remarkably prescient reminder of what Marvin Gaye could do, and what his music might still stand for.

Photo by Creative Hina By.Quileen on Unsplash

There's something bizarre about hearing Marvin Gaye sing "Think about the mistakes you make / I believe America's at stake" in 2019.

Not in the sense that it's odd hearing a political song in Marvin's velvet voice: if that were the case, What's Going On wouldn't be the indisputable monument that it is. It maybe has more to do with the fact that "You're The Man" was released by Tamla Records as a single back in 1972. Whatever world Marvin was hoping to see back then, as he pleaded with politicians to stand for something real, is still nowhere in sight for the world of today. The prescience of "You're The Man" is, optimistically, a testament to the kind of artist and performer Marvin Gaye was. More honestly, it's a sobering indication of how essential artists like him still are and, in all likelihood, will always have to be.

To that end, You're The Man—Marvin Gaye's "lost" album, recorded between his masterpiece one-two punch of 1971's What's Going On and 1973's Let's Get It On—feels like a gently sad and still vital reminder of the space that Marvin Gaye used to take up. You're The Man has ostensibly been an album-in-progress since its titular single came out, but due to his continuing ideological (according to some recollections, borderline-violent) clashes with Berry Gordy over the more socially-concerned slant of his work to that point, Gaye shelved the project before it could see the light of day. Now, forty-seven years later, the material of You're The Man has been mixed and mastered for another generation, a snapshot of one of the greatest R&B singers of all time, working to follow up the most resonant record of his career with something new.

The album itself is something between a time capsule and a reimagining of Marvin Gaye. The folk-legend status of the material garnered over time, combined with the social and cultural upheaval of the last few years, accidentally forces You're The Man into conversation with our present moment as much as Marvin imagined it in conversation with 1972 America. The overall effect is similar to Kendrick Lamar's untitled unmastered. from 2016, an album composed of outtakes and drafts of songs that didn't make it onto To Pimp A Butterfly: You're the Man is an album best understood as Gaye in process, the artist in his studio at a time when every song he wrote could mean something more.

It's not purely, fearlessly activist the way What's Going On was, with its unblinking protest songs, lush harmonies, and cinematic desolation. Nor are You're The Man's love songs the immortally-sexy bedroom anthems that defined Let's Get It On. The sound is still Gaye's purposeful (itself political) genre fusion of R&B, soul, and funk, and of course Marvin's voice is as gorgeous as it ever was, conveying a restorative passion and a haunting desperation with every rise and fall of his voice, often in the same song, often in the same second. But You're The Man feels very much transitional, concerned most with Gaye's fluctuating present and drawing meaning from wherever meaning could be found.

On You're The Man's third track, "Piece of Clay," Marvin muses on the intergenerational strain he saw sown into his America: "Father, stop criticizing your son / Mother, please, leave your daughters alone / Don't you see that's what's wrong / with the world today?" The thing about You're The Man, an album released in 2019, is that you, the listener, can take that however you want. A metaphorical political appeal to his contemporary nation, an observation stretching to our own generational divide, or a darkly somber premonition of the violence that took Marvin's own life in 1984. They all work. The songs feature the same enchanting, occasionally-experimental orchestration of What's Going On, borrowing that album's invigorating sense of intention, but You're The Man grafts them with the buoyant joy of Gaye's early Motown sound. (SalaAM ReMi, producer of Fugees and Amy Winehouse fame, remixes "My Last Chance," "Symphony" and "I'd Give My Life For You" with an alluringly surreal sound for Gaye's voice to soar above.)

His political writing on "The World Is Rated X" and "Where Are We Going?" is more grounded, his love songs like "I'm Gonna Give You Respect" and "We Can Make It Baby" are more thoughtful. The album ends up feeling specifically timeless in this way: in terms of the nearly flawless quality of its sound, yes, but also in the presence of its focus. Gaye works his holy, loving voice to the best of its ability, as he always did when he was alive, but You're The Man's thematic statement as a whole is far quieter than either album it is bookended by, though no less powerful: You're The Man is an album about survival, about the small beauties that make life worth living, and the daily fights to keep those beauties close. It doesn't quite reach the pure cohesive rush of either What's Going On or Let's Get It On, but it doesn't have to. You're The Man plays like a historical artifact as easily as a lens through which to look at our present cultural sphere. And come on, it's another Marvin Gaye album.

You're The Man

Matthew Apadula is a writer and music critic from New York. His work has previously appeared on GIGsoup Music and in Drunk in a Midnight Choir. Find him on Twitter @imdoingmybest.

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