Singing her own song

It’s more than three decades since Reeves, now 63, was signed to Berry Gordy’s mighty Motown label. But if time has moved on, Reeves prefers to stay in the ’60s. So she’s still touring the States most months of the year, singing the old Vandellas hits, although usually solo. Occasionally, she joins a Motown tour. "The first one of those I was on was in 1962," she remembers wistfully. "It was the time of the Civil Rights Movement." You can even book Reeves to play at a private party, but she looks so stern every time I mention money, I daren’t ask how much it would cost.

For the past four years, Reeves has also been involved in the hit Motown musical Dancing in the Streets, which was conceived by Edwin Starr in 1998. The show’s fourth production recently began a 50-date tour of the UK, running until mid-April. "I’ve performed in the show twice before," explains Reeves, "but I wasn’t in at the start. Can you believe that? I told Edwin it was crazy. I was having dinner at his house one night and asked how he could possibly do a show named after one of my songs when I’m not in it. As it turned out, he had asked, but my manager had declined on my behalf. The next day, I called my manager and told him I wanted to work with Edwin no matter what. So in 2000, I did a Dancing in the Streets with Ed and my good friend Mary Wilson from The Supremes. It went over great. Two years later, we decided to do it again. That time, it was me and Edwin with Freda Payne. This year, it was just gonna be me and Edwin, but unfortunately, dear Ed left this earth."

If there’s a sense that Reeves is squeezing the idea dry - the rest of the current cast is made up of British stage performers - she doesn’t see it. And, to be fair, neither do the audiences. The show’s run has been extended from previous years and, apparently, there are lots of full houses. But is Reeves surprised that the Motown sound is still so popular? Not a bit. "Why would I be surprised?" she snaps. "I’m delighted, of course, but there’s no reason not to be a Motown fan today. Berry Gordy made it the sound of young America. His songs are like the fountain of youth. If someone put on a Motown record right now, I wouldn’t be able to sit still. I’d be up on my feet like I was 20 again."

I try to point out that Motown was the sound of young America 40 years ago and that, well, we’re in Britain, but Reeves is having none of it. "What, you prefer the music that’s on now?" she asks, referring to the house-pop playing in the foyer of her trendy West London hotel. Admittedly it’s pretty terrible. "That’s not even music! It’s noise made by machines! And that girl - is she supposed to be singing? Or is that a machine too? Motown music was made by trained professionals, people who knew how to sing and how to play properly. This sort of music is played on just one instrument. There are no real drummers, no great piano players. This doesn’t make me feel anything."

I wonder if Reeves likes any modern artists, perhaps Alicia Keys or maybe Norah Jones. "I don’t know these people," she says. "And, no, I can’t think of anyone new I like." And if Reeves hates house music, it’s nothing to what she thinks of rap. "Rap is responsible for bringing people into this industry who can’t sing," she sniffs. "It’s a gimmick. The only good rappers I ever heard were The Last Poets. They started a revolution because they had meaningful lyrics that helped a lot of people get through a difficult time. That’s what rap should be for. But it’s not anymore. It’s about telling kids to kill the police or call women dirty names. It’s disgusting."

Reeves, you may have guessed, isn’t big on bad language. Or bad manners, for that matter. Endearingly, she speaks just like a grandmother - which she is, three times over - rather than a singer who has dabbled in drugs and spent most of her life on the road or in nightclubs. For despite this resum, she seems terribly intolerant. When a couple of young women at another table stand up to leave, but keep chatting to each other within earshot, Reeves halts the interview. Politely, of course. "Those girls are having such a good time," she says, sweetly, but through gritted teeth. "Let’s stop for a minute. It’s very distracting." Then she turns right around and shoots them a hard stare. She keeps staring until they move on.

"At Motown, I was tutored by a wonderful woman called Professor Maxine Powell," recalls Reeves. "She taught all us girls social graces. She taught us how to carry ourselves, how to speak with respect, how to cope with any event. When I first met her, she said, ‘Martha, if you pay attention to what I teach you, you’ll be able to play before kings and queens, lords and ladies.’ I laughed and told her I only wanted a hit record, but what she predicted came true. We did perform to kings and queens and we did need to know protocol. I performed for President Clinton too. I know how to behave in front of important people and how to behave in everyday life. That’s the sort of training today’s young pop stars could definitely do with."

Reeves may wag her finger at what she perceives as inappropriate behaviour - she is one of those outraged by Janet Jackson’s recent breast-baring antics - but she hasn’t always been so straight-laced. In her Motown heyday, like most of her label-mates, she experimented with Class A drugs.

"I was a drug person for a while," she admits. "We were all influenced. Every Motown artist worked hard, but no one burnt out under the workload, they burnt out under the drug load. Of course, we were told not to touch drugs, but when we were out on the road, no one could keep an eye on us all the time.

"I was curious and I was easily influenced. People who didn’t have my best interests at heart told me drugs would make me feel good, so I took them. For how long? That’s not important. What matters is that I gave up and I’ve stayed away ever since. Some people never get out. I always say, ‘You can fall, but you don’t have to lie there.’ That’s me. I got back on the right path and now I do a lot of motivational speaking at schools in Detroit. One of the main things kids ask about is drugs. I tell them to stay away, to be strong and to live their lives sober."

Reeves’s own childhood was much more innocent. She recalls it being filled with music. Born in Alabama but raised in Detroit, she began singing at the age of three in her grandfather’s gospel church. Her mother, Ruby, a singer, and her dad, Elijah, a blues guitarist who played with John Lee Hooker, both encouraged her, even though they had another ten children to look after. Ruby played her eldest daughter records by Billie Holiday and Dinah Washington and would teach her the lyrics and sing her to sleep with their songs at night. At weekends, the whole family got together for little concerts.

"My dad could have been as big as Mr Hooker," says Reeves. "They were partners for a while and they used to practise in our house. But Dad didn’t want to be famous. I don’t know why - some people just don’t. I have always thought it was a privilege to be talented. I loved that people wanted to hear me sing. Everywhere I went, they would ask me. In elementary school, my music teacher, Mrs Emily Wagstaff, would stop class five minutes early and get me to sing. She taught me songs like ‘America the Beautiful’ and ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’. I was the only one in class who could remember all the words.

"For my graduation ceremony, I was chosen from the choir to sing for a show broadcast on local radio. I remember feeling so proud that I had been given the opportunity. Music was already part of me by then, and I swore if I got to sing as a career, I would enjoy every minute of it."

Around this time she was listening to The Four Tops - although she didn’t realise it. "A girlfriend from high school would invite me to her house to hear her dad and his band rehearsing," she recalls. "I had never heard men with such beautiful voices. I found out a few years later they were The Four Tops."

After studying with voice tutor Abraham Silver, who also coached Mary Wilson, Reeves decided to join a girl group. "That was my dream because I love harmonies and I like the camaraderie of being with like-minded women."

Reeves played with several groups until, under the name Martha Lavelle, with a band called the Del-phis, she got a record contract with local label CheckMate. Their singles didn’t chart, however, and Reeves was working as a cleaner and singing in clubs when a man from Motown handed her his card. "I got the Del-phis back together and next thing I knew, we were singing back-up for Marvin Gaye."

It was only after the renamed Reeves was asked to sing a demo originally written for Mary Wells that she was offered her own deal, with the Del-phis - themselves renamed The Vandellas - as her backing band. Over the next eight years, they had umpteen hits, including ‘(Love Is like a) Heat Wave’, ‘Quicksand’, ‘Nowhere to Run’ and ‘Jimmy Mack’. But it is 1964’s chart-topping, endlessly covered anthem ‘Dancing in the Streets’ for which Martha and the Vandellas will be remembered.

Ultimately, The Vandellas were somewhat overshadowed by the sexier, more successful Supremes, but their string of million-selling singles has been enough to sustain Reeves’s career ever since. She has released several solo albums, the most recent of which was last year’s Home to You, which she produced herself and put out with her own money. None has been a big hit, but demand for her to sing her Motown songs has never diminished.

"That’s 43 years I’ve been in the business," she boasts. "I think about retiring all the time, but then the next lot of bills come in and I’m back on the road. I’ve never bothered much about money but, hey, we all need to eat."

Money is certainly a sensitive subject. For all that Reeves raves about Berry Gordy and the magic of the Motown machine - the tiny, beehive-like room of 14 writers, working in shifts round the clock to come up with the next No.1; Holland-Dozier-Holland’s Midas touch; the music-theory training and exhausting choreography classes - she must feel a little peeved that she has never been rich enough to live a life of leisure. There are several reason for this. First, Motown never allowed Reeves to write her own songs, hence she missed out on lucrative publishing payments. Like most artists of the day, she wasn’t paid properly while she was working and, worse, when she left the label, her royalties were stopped. It took 11 years and a court case to get them reinstated. Incredibly, Reeves still can’t find a bad word to say about her former employers.

"My job was to sing," she insists. "We had the best team of writers in the world, so they didn’t need me for that. Besides, I was given the freedom to sing the songs as I wanted. Well, almost as I wanted. I did once ask for some lyrics to be changed. I insisted on it." And what happened? "Ah, the writers didn’t agree. They took the song away from us. It was a big hit for someone else, though, so they were probably right. As for not paying me, well, they’re sorting that out now."

What bothers Reeves more is that success robbed her of a family life. She won’t complain about it, of course, but there is real sadness rather than her usual bravado when she talks about having to leave her young son behind when she went on tour. He is now 31 and the pair live near each other in Detroit, but the years that Reeves gave guardianship to her own parents meant they weren’t on good terms for a long time. "My son has a normal life and he doesn’t want any part of the music business. He hated the fact that I was never home and he can’t understand why anyone would want to spend their life travelling. He wants to be with his kids every night and I respect that. His youngest, Elijah, who is five, is already a promising singer. He can remember lyrics too, just like I could at that age."

So, another star in the family?

"He probably could be, but I’m not sure my son would let him. I think he’d rather Elijah stayed at school. My son still doesn’t understand. He says, ‘Mom, does the glamour never wear off?’ Well, I’m 63 and it hasn’t yet. I guess it’s just the way I’m made."

• Dancing in the Streets: Motown’s Greatest Hits starring Martha Reeves comes to Scotland next week, playing Glasgow’s Royal Concert Hall on March 30 (0141 353 8000), Edinburgh’s Playhouse on March 31 (0870 606 3424) and Inverness’s Eden Court on April 1 (01463 234 234)