Philly Composer and Vibraphonist Vincent Montana on Defining the Sound of the ’70s

Vincent Montana is a towering figure in the history of disco. The Philadelphia-born vibraphonist, composer and producer arranged and played on some of the biggest hits of the ’70s. He cut his chops in the ’50s playing in Vegas nightclubs, before moving back to Philadelphia to work as a session musician. He rose to prominence playing with the group MSFB – Mother Father Sister Brother – who recorded hits with the songwriting duo of Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff, including the Grammy-winning “TSOP (The Sound of Philadelphia)” and the iconic “Love Is The Message.”

After falling out with Gamble & Huff in 1974, Montana helped establish the Salsoul Orchestra, which combined his Philadelphia soul background with funk and Latin rhythms. The Orchestra wrote and recorded some of the biggest hits of the disco era, including Loleatta Holloway’s “Runaway” and “Tangerine,” a disco reimagining of a big band classic. In the early ’90s, Montana worked with house legends Masters At Work, and helped produce the Pet Shop Boys 1999 single “New York City Boy.” His compositions have been sampled on multiple pop hits, including Madonna’s “Vogue,” Spiller’s “Groovejet” and 50 Cent’s “Candyshop.”

Montana died in 2013 at the age of 85. But in n a 2005 interview with Bill Brewster, he spoke about his storied career, from early days hustling in clubs to disco era triumphs.

Tell me about your background and where you grew up.

I grew up in South Philadelphia, which is in Pennsylvania, which is where a lot of talent came from: Frankie Avalon and all those doo-wop singers. Chubby Checker. I grew in the heart of an Italian section in South Philly, so there was a lot of music there, people playing their guitars on the corners and singing. I was surrounded by music. I was with music all my life, I never played much basketball or baseball or football. Played music in school.

What music did you listen to as a boy?

A lot of classical, like Stravinsky, Tchaikovsky, Wagner. We had rock & roll at the time, but I was never into it – never was, never will be. I always developed my own type of music, practiced what I liked to practice, never went much by the book. Then I started to love jazz, Clifford Brown, a lot of great musicians from Philly. Buddy DeFranco. A lot of the music I was influenced by was classical to jazz, just great music. I like my own music. I like orchestra music. I like to make people happy and that’s what I do.

What were the early Philly records you played on?

I was a session musician around 1965 to 1968. Before that I worked in Las Vegas, working in the clubs there.

Playing in covers bands?

No. Well, first I was doing that, I started working as a percussionist working on the Strip, playing vibes, tympani, orchestra bells, backing people like Harry Belafonte. Show people, you know? Patti Page used to come in. “How Much Is That Doggy In The Window?” Remember that one? So anyway, we played for people like that, and I got to know Patti Page well, Keely Smith, Louis Prima.

I love Louis Prima!

Yes, and he’s so underrated. He used to play trumpet and he used to sing! Great. Keely Smith is not even known as jazz singer and she’s incredible. We’d go out and have lunch together and she was such a beautiful person, and she got married to Louis Prima. But then Louis died. Then the group took over, the Witnesses, but she was a great “straight man,” you know. He used to fool around and play trumpet and she’d sing. They played at the Desert Inn. I had a great time in Vegas. When I went to Vegas, I drove out there. I had my vibes in the car.

That’s one hell of a trip!

Yes, it is. 3,000 miles! Talk about Route 66. So anyway, I had a ’52 Mercury convertible and I drove all the way out there. I loved it. You’re on the road for like two hours and it’s just straight, it never ends. Then at night, you’re up in the mountains somewhere. When I got out there, I went to the union, and the union said I can’t work for six months because I had to work my card out. That was a rule, ’cause a lot of musicians went out to Vegas to work, and the musicians that worked there wanted to protect their work. So I went to the union every Tuesday and Thursday, and they had what they called a fix band, and whoever was there would jam.

They had lot of good musicians. Guys like Larry Bunker, the vibes player. So they said, “Have you got any arrangements, do you write arrangements?” So that’s how I started. I was really down and out. I was eating baby food out of a jar because I didn’t have any money to exist, I couldn’t even find a job in a drugstore. Finally I met a rock & roll bandleader. He said, “What the heck are you doing here?” I said, “Oh, I’m looking for work.” He said, “You look pretty starving, come on, I’ll buy you a steak.” He said, “You wanna work?”

“Yeah, I wanna work.”

“You wanna work with a rock & roll band?”

“I don’t like rock & roll. I’m hungry, though.”

He said, “Come in tonight and bring your vibes. And you can work with us tonight.” They were playing at the Prema. They had a lot of big names there, guys like Liberace used to come in and have a few drinks with the band, Mike Douglas used to come in. I was with this rock & roll group, Mike Sergeant and the Sergeants, and they played nothing but the blues all night, but I didn’t care. I was making good money. Then other people heard me, and started offering me jobs. So that’s how I worked at the Desert Inn, and the Tropicana, and other clubs as a percussionist.

People like Sinatra used to walk around, Lauren Bacall. I was in awe! That was a great experience. I was there about two years, and then I came back and then we got into what was called Jewish outside work. The weddings, the bar mitzvahs, we made great money with that. I worked with Jackie Gold for many years, until I started to record. People loved the way I played, so they started to ask me to play on their records. And that brings us right up to Cameo-Parkway and Gamble & Huff.

Cameo was kind of the forerunner of Philadelphia International Records, wasn’t it?

Yeah, and that brought me right up to ’69 and the ’70s, when “La La Means I Love You” came out.

How did you first meet Gamble & Huff?

Gamble had a group called the Romeos. Gamble used to sing background for Dee Dee Sharp on Cameo-Parkway, and Chubby Checker. I’ll tell you an inside on how they got that name. They were all sittin’ down one day, tryin’ to figure out what they were gonna call this young musician who used to sell chicken on 9th Street in South Philadelphia. He’d shout, “Come on, get yer fresh chickens!” He’d sell chickens, live, and cut their heads off.

At the time one of the big artists around was Fats Domino, and they wanted to call him something like that, so Chubby Fats, Domino Checker. See? Anyway, Gamble sang the backgrounds on that stuff, and Huff used to be a writer. This was at 309 South Broad Street. And I used to take the elevator up with my vibes. And who would be there in the reception, but Huff sitting outside, with his lunch and his bag of music. He didn’t know Gamble at that time, I don’t think. He said, “If you see Bernie Lowe, tell him come out here. I come here every day for about three weeks to let him hear my songs, and he sort of ignores me.” I said, “OK, I’ll tell him you’re out there.”

“Yeah man, I could use somebody to help me exploit my songs.”

I said, “Don’t worry, someday you’ll be so rich with your songs, you’ll own the building.” And he does own the building.

How did you come in contact with the Cayre brothers?

Well, this is years later. Two or three years later. I was making all these hits for Gamble & Huff. And here I am pouring all my heart and my talent and my expertise into these songs. I says, “I’m giving all my ideas to these guys, when am I gonna do something for myself?” Sitting on the steps, tears coming out of my eyes, outside Sigma Sound. Larry Washington, the conga player, he came up and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“We make all these records, and we never make anything for ourselves.”

“Well, you know what you gotta do, get up off your ass and sell yourself.”

Anyway, I found out through a friend, there was a label up there called Mericana Records that did Latin records. Not even Salsoul, then. I talked to Ken Cayre about this Puerto Rican group that I had. Ken Cayre says, “I don’t want no Latin music, I’m sick of it.”

Joe Bataan, who was sitting outside, says, “Who’s that there?”

“Vince Montana.”

“Vince Montana! That’s one of the guys from the Philly sound!” He was bugging out. So Kenny says, “Well, can you do something like the Philly sound?”

So he took me into see Joe Cayre, who was president of Mericana Records. He said, “Could you give me three songs that are like the Philly sound?” I said, “Yeah, there’s nothing to it, we’re doing the writing anyway!”

So anyway, he says, “Here’s the check, gimme the songs in about three weeks.” I didn’t even look at the check [until I was] on the way home, and it was for $10,000! I never saw $10,000 in my life! My God, I showed it to my wife and we were dancing around.

Anyway, the songs I gave them were “The Hustle,” because that was an up-and-coming dance. At this time we didn’t have the name Salsoul, so I came up with the idea that it was salsa and soul. I was talking to Ken Cayre, and said, “We can’t call it Salsa Soul.” The name was gonna be Salsa Soul, but I said, “How about if we make it just Sal and soul?” He said, “That’s a good idea,” and took it back and copyrighted the idea, and I didn’t get [any money] from it. That’s the way these people are. They were in the pantyhose business before they got into this!

All types of people were playing in the band: Puerto Rican, black, Russian, Irish, every nationality. I said, “It’s more or less like a rainbow,” and they got the idea of the rainbow [logo] from that. Basically, it sounds like I’m making this up, but it really happened. Joe Cayre used to come in the studio and say, “What are those two black things there, hanging?” I said, “They’re speakers!”

I wish I had his brain power for business, because he knew that and they really knew how to market. Anyhow, I gave them three songs, “Dance A Little Bit Closer,” “The Salsoul Hustle” and “Nice Vibes,” but “Nice Vibes” was more of a jazz thing. We only used the one, “Salsoul Hustle,” and “Dance A Little Bit Closer” we used when Charo came around.

So they didn’t lose any money on the tracks I gave them. Until I went to get paid my royalties, and that’s when I came to have problems with them. That was one of the reasons I left. I was getting paid for my work, but I wasn’t getting paid my royalties.

So you never got royalty statements?

No. They thought I was like yesterday’s newspaper, but I had tons and tons of songs. They would’ve been billionaires if they’d followed what I had. They kept going with other people, “Oh, this is another Vince Montana.” They didn’t know the difference musically. They didn’t know the difference with my talent. My talent is very heavy duty. I’m still writing some great things.

Who were the core members of Salsoul Orchestra?

Ronnie Baker on bass, Norman Harris on guitar, Bobby Eli on guitar, Earl Young on drums, we had Lenny Percora on organ, and we had Ron Kersey on clavinet. You can look in my biography.

Tell me about Loleatta Holloway.

I never met Loleatta till the day she came to Sigma. She had a tape that my daughter sang on. She sang on “#1 Dee Jay.” I asked Ken Cayre if they had any good singers, because I couldn’t find one here. Ken said, “I have Loleatta Holloway,” so I said we’d try her out, and gave them a tape of [my daughter] Denise singing “Runaway.” Of course, Loleatta copied her sound and way of singing it, but Loleatta put more feeling in it.

Anyway, he booked some studio time and drove her down to Sigma in a limo, and I was there. And she came in and sang it right off, and it was great. She must’ve practiced it. That was the first time I met Loleatta. So then I had more songs for her, but things began to go crazy, the green monster that gets into people’s life. They all wanted the fame that I created with Salsoul. So there was a little separation there with myself and the rhythm section. So they [Salsoul] called me to play on some of the Loleatta stuff. “Love Sensation,” I think. What was the other one?

“Hit and Run?”

“Hit And Run.” I have the arrangement for that sitting in front of me! They went their way and I went my way. So everyone and their cousin was up there trying to get a deal. They thought everyone was a Vince Montana who was going to make them a million. So I decided to go with Atlantic, because they wanted me. I just wanted to go with who was happy with my work.

Who signed you to Atlantic?

Jerry Greenberg. I did two or three albums with them, including a Goody Goody LP. “#1 Dee Jay” was a tremendous hit.

Tell me about “It Looks Like Love.” Why is it so hard to find? Did it not get a full release?

It did on my own label, Philly Sound Works.

But the version I have is on Atlantic.

I put maybe about 200,000 or 300,000 out. It sold all over the world. I didn’t like to be involved in selling and trying to collect my money from distributors. I didn’t enjoy that. I’d rather sit in front of a keyboard making music.

Who played on the Goody Goody material?

I played most of it myself, but I had Ronnie James, the guitar player. He did a lot of guitar work. In fact, he did that intro on “Runaway.” Very talented. Don’t know what he’s doing today. You know what, it must be great music because it’s rejuvenated every few years.

Do you think the influence of Salsoul has stood the test of time?

Absolutely. It’s gonna be there after we’re gone, our kids are gone and their kids are gone. And it’s always gonna come back. You know why? Because it makes you feel good, it makes you feel happy. It makes you wanna get up and dance. That’s all it is. My music is the right tempo, the right melodic structure, everything is just right with it.

What do you think of sampling culture? Have you benefited from it personally?

I love it. I’m still making money doing that, and I’m not doing anything! [laughs] Sampling is great. People use my music and it’s great.

What’s the most profitable song?

Spiller, “Groovejet.” I have something in Cradle To The Grave, the movie.

Why do you think a New York label had such a strong Philadelphia influence?

Well, what happened in the United States years ago, somebody yelled out “There’s gold in California!” What happened in New York was, they were like, “Have you heard those guys in Philly, they’re making hits!”

We were the guys and there were only a handful of us. We were session musicians, we were great musicians, and we played so well together, knitted so well, which was unbelievable.

Tell me the story of “Heavy Vibes.” hHw did it come about?

Well, how it started was, we were in Studio 4 in Philadelphia and there was a football strike in Philadelphia. I said to the guys, “Let’s write a song around ‘No Football No More.’” So I got an old Earl Young drum track, and I added some other stuff over it, and this guy rapped on it. And I put it out on Philly Sound Works as a 45, and they played the hell out of it on the radio. It was playing way above Elton John songs. They found out about it in New York, and they started playing it. So what happened was, they flipped the other side, I called it “Heavy Vibes.” I got that name from, in the ’60s, when I worked with Jackie Gold, I had to carry my own vibes up and down stairs, and they were heavy. They were around 125 pounds. They thought it meant heavy as in far out!