This Day in Pop Music History (Levi Stubbs, Powerful Lead of 4 Tops, Dies)

Oct. 17, 2008—Levi Stubbs, the commanding frontman of the enduring soul band The Four Tops, died in his sleep at age 72 in his home in Detroit, the city where he was born, raised and achieved fame.

In May 1992, I was lucky enough to catch the Four Tops in concert in Las Vegas. In town for a trade convention, my group was looking to relax after an exhausting day. I wasn’t sure what to expect but was delighted by the end of the show.

With their resonant voices and refusal to turn out cookie-cutter versions of their old hits, Stubbs and his bandmates—first tenor Abdul “Duke” Fakir, second tenor Lawrence Payton and baritone Renaldo “Obie” Benson—deserved to sell out large arenas rather than a Vegas showroom. But their loss was their listeners’ gain, as we enjoyed hearing them in an intimate setting.

I had grown up in the late Sixties hearing their string of Motown hits—"I Can't Help Myself,” “It's The Same Old Song,” “Bernadette,” “Loving You Is Sweeter Than Ever,” and “Reach Out, I'll Be There”—on WABC-AM, New York’s top 40 radio station, so I was certainly familiar with their work.

What I did not appreciate at the time was the bond of loyalty that kept the quartet together for 40 years—remarkable, then and now, in a music industry rife with egotism, money squabbles, and drug addiction. Those forces could divide and decimate the most enormous talents, as seen in the Four Tops’ colleagues in the Motown music factory, the Temptations.

Colleagues in the Four Tops may have appreciated that intense loyalty even more than Stubbs’ baritone. Fakir, for instance, told Billboard after Stubbs’ death: “He had many chances and many offers to be lured away into his own solo world, but he never wanted that. He said, 'Man, all I really want to do is sing and take care of my family, and that's what I'm doing, so all is well. Everything else that doesn't include you guys, it doesn't mean a thing to me.' That kind of character and commitment is really hard to find these days." 

Only serious illness could keep Stubbs from performing with his old friends till the end. Cancer and a stroke silenced and sidelined him for good after 2000, though he still tried to see the remaining Four Tops in concert as much as he could.

I could tell you how versatile Stubbs’ voice was—how it could rumble, implore, promise, agonize, woo, even threaten with carnivorous gusto (as when he sang as “Audrey II,” the man-eating "Mean, Green Mother from Outer Space," in the 1986 movie version of Little Shop of Horrors). But you knew that already. (And if you didn’t, I urge you to go now and listen to any Four Tops records.)

But a performer of transcendent goodness is every bit as worth celebrating as one of transcendent talent. Back in 1992, I would, if I had ever had the chance, thank Stubbs for giving such a great show. Now, knowing somewhat more about him, I would also be grateful for his tight bonds with his city, audience and friends.