Twenty tracks from the group who gave Philadelphia International its voice and proved that a dance record could be an indictment.

The O'Jays
The O'Jays formed in Canton, Ohio in the late fifties and spent more than a decade going nowhere before Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff signed them to Philadelphia International in 1972. What followed was one of the great runs in soul music.
The line-up that mattered was Eddie Levert, Walter Williams and William Powell, who died in 1977. Levert's voice is the engine — a hard, gospel-derived tenor that can sound like an accusation — and it is what makes the political records work.
Because that is the group's real distinction. Gamble and Huff gave them material about corruption, greed, betrayal and Black solidarity, and dressed it in lush orchestration and a dance rhythm, so that records people played at parties were also making arguments.
What to listen for
"For the Love of Money" is the most famous bassline in Philadelphia soul and one of the angriest hit singles ever released — an unambiguous denunciation of greed that has spent fifty years being used to advertise things.
"Back Stabbers" is the other one, and its opening piano figure is instantly recognisable.
"Love Train" is the group at their most optimistic and remains one of the great pieces of pop utopianism.
"I Love Music" is the disco record and the one DJs still reach for.
"Darlin' Darlin' Baby" opens this set and is the smoothest thing they recorded; "Stairway to Heaven" and "Forever Mine" are the ballads.
"Family Reunion" is the most underrated record here — nearly eight minutes, structured as a sermon, and genuinely moving.
"Wind Beneath My Wings" with Gerald Levert is the father-and-son recording, and Gerald's death in 2006 gives it a weight it did not have.
Go deeper
Back Stabbers (1972) and Ship Ahoy (1973) are the essential albums, and the title track of the second — about the Middle Passage — is one of the boldest things any commercial soul group attempted.
For the wider Philadelphia International story: Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes, Billy Paul, The Intruders and the house band MFSB.
Why the trick works: Gamble and Huff wrapped denunciations of greed, betrayal and corruption in lush orchestration and a dance rhythm, so that records people played at parties were also making arguments. Half a century on, the biggest of them is still used to sell things — which is either the ultimate irony or the ultimate proof that the disguise worked.
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