Still Makes Me Wanna Holla

April 1, 1984, was one of those dates when you know what you were doing when something momentous happened – the way dates like November 22, 1963, or April 4, 1968, make an indelible mark in our collective psyche.

April 1, 1984, was when the “Prince of Soul,” Marvin Gaye, died. An argument between his parents in which Marvin intervened ended when the Rev. Marvin Gay Sr. shot and killed his son a day before his 45th birthday.

I was listening to the radio when I heard the news. I called my older sister T1 at work and told her the news.

“April Fool, right?” T1 joked.

“Not this time,” I said somberly. When I referred to my older sister by her middle name instead of a nickname, I was being serious.

Marvin was special to T1 not just because of his music and his good looks. They share the same birthday, April 2. (My siblings and I would call T1 the “After Fool” because she missed being an April Fool by a day.)

My family grew up listening to Motown, Aretha, the Isley Brothers, Luther, and others. Mom and my sisters just loooved Marvin. In the early 1960s, he was clean-shaven wearing a sports jacket and turtleneck, looking fine. When he sang his duets with spunky-cute Tammi Terrell, they looked as if they could be the perfect couple. I still prefer their version of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” to Diana Ross’s bombastic rendition.

When Tammi Terrell died at 24 of a malignant brain tumor in 1970, Marvin went into seclusion. When he emerged, he was bearded and introspective, more concerned about the world around him. His 1971 concept album “What’s Going On” reflected one of many changes Gaye would undergo in his personal and professional life. The single became Rolling Stone’s fourth greatest single of all time.

Gaye’s version of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” was recorded before Gladys Knight and the Pips did theirs. But the latter version was released first and reached number two on the U.S. pop charts. Although Motown founder Berry Gordy was adamant that Gaye’s “Grapevine” not be released, the radio disc jockeys heard the cut and started playing it until Gordy relented. The version, with its French horn opening that heralded a darker, more defiant attitude than Gladys’s version, shot to number one, where it stayed for seven weeks.

When the sensual “Let’s Get It On” album came out in 1973, I was appalled. I thought he went from ecologist to just plain horndog. As I matured, I realized that it was just a side of Marvin that the public hadn’t seen. The album also features my favorite Marvin song “Distant Lover,” a theme for a long-ago, long-distance romance.

Despite the hits, Marvin hadn’t received a Grammy until 1983 – for “Sexual Healing.” I admit, when the song first came out, I thought he was a howling horndog just begging for some. “Bay-beee, I’m hot just like an oveeeen, I need your loveeeng, and bay-beeee, I can’t hold it much longer, it’s getting stronger and stronger…”

I remember when Marvin came onstage at the Grammy Awards to accept his gramophone for male R&B performance, the audience gave him a standing ovation, for which he looked humbled and grateful.

I often wonder what more he could have done had he lived to see his 45th birthday – and many more after that.

Rest in peace, Marvin.

Writing Diva