Milestones: TP by Teddy Pendergrass
Within Pendergrass’s discography, TP is often regarded as a high-water mark. It would tragically be one of his last albums before a 1982 car accident that changed the course of his life and career.
In 1980, Teddy Pendergrass stood at the pinnacle of R&B stardom. The 30-year-old singer had already racked up three straight platinum solo albums and become an undeniable sex symbol on the strength of his smoldering voice and charisma. His concerts—famously billed as “Ladies Only”—were the stuff of legend, with women packing theaters to swoon over his every note (and often tossing lingerie on stage in the process). TP, Pendergrass’s fourth album, arrived in July 1980 at this feverish height of his career. It was a pivotal record: his first Philadelphia International LP made without the input of the label’s famed founders Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff. Any worries that Pendergrass might falter without his usual producers were quickly dispelled—TP spawned two major hit singles and matched its predecessors in commercial success, attaining platinum status and reaffirming Pendergrass’s place at the top of the soul world.
Since TP marked a different direction behind the scenes, the music played squarely to Pendergrass’s strengths, as the most substantial cuts on the album are ballads where Pendergrass unfurls long narrative laments with remarkable subtlety and emotional conviction. The first single, “Can’t We Try,” is precisely that kind of tender ballad. Opening with a gentle, pleading introduction, it slowly builds into a dramatic vamp in which Pendergrass’s commanding baritone clinches each lyric with absolute conviction. Throughout a five-minute arrangement, he creates the dynamic from a hush to a cathartic roar, an incredible display of vocal power and control. The emotion in his voice feels lived-in and honest; he sells every line of this plea for reconciliation as though on bended knee.
The album’s other flagship single, “Love T.K.O.,” comes on with confident force. Built on a mellow, mid-tempo groove, “Love T.K.O.” finds Pendergrass testifying about love’s pains and bruises—T.K.O. being boxing shorthand for a “technical knockout.” His delivery carries the song like a title fight victory speech: his testimonial lead vocal exudes hard-won wisdom. Backed by a silky bassline and the kind of plush arrangement that defines the quiet storm era, Pendergrass alternates between gritty resignation and smooth crooning, as if both defeated by love and determined to persevere. The song’s enduring appeal lies in its mix of ache and elegance, a crafty melody written by Cecil Womack and Gip Noble, Jr., and a vocal that carries the full weight of heartbreak yet still goes down easy. Pendergrass’s recording actually wasn’t the first version of “Love T.K.O.,” but it quickly rendered all others footnotes; he made the song his own, delivering a definitive knockout that remains one of his signature tunes in retrospect.
Amid the album’s hits, an argument can be made that TP’s most passionate gem wasn’t a single at all. “Feel the Fire,” a deep album cut, is a show-stopping duet that pairs Pendergrass with fellow soul belter Stephanie Mills. The song was penned by singer Peabo Bryson in 1978, but Pendergrass and Mills bring it to life in a transcendent way here. Over a slow, simmering arrangement, their voices entwine in a knot of sensuality and vocal interplays—Mills’s sweet yet powerful soprano entwining around Pendergrass’s earthy baritone. Notably, the album opens with “Is It Still Good to Ya,” a song written (and originally recorded in 1978) by the superstar duo Nickolas Ashford & Valerie Simpson. Pendergrass enlisted Ashford & Simpson themselves to produce his rendition, and the result is a faithful yet sultrier take on the composition. He infuses the lyrics—essentially a lover’s playful inquiry about whether the magic is still alive—with a husky, suggestive tone that brings out a sexually charged undercurrent perhaps only implied in the original. Backed by a bouncy mid-tempo groove and Ashford & Simpson’s own background vocals, Pendergrass certainly sounds like he’s having fun.
TP’s remaining album tracks round out the portrait of Pendergrass in 1980, though they inevitably live in the shadow of the big hits. “Take Me in Your Arms Tonight,” for instance, is the album’s other Stephanie Mills duet, but unlike the smoldering “Feel the Fire,” this one is a bright, uptempo dance-floor bubbler. Co-written and produced by Philly soul wizard Dexter Wansel, “Take Me in Your Arms Tonight” gives Pendergrass a chance to groove in a more playful, disco-influenced mode. Still, there’s a reason Pendergrass earned the nickname “Teddy Bear” for his bedroom ballads, and why TP includes only one truly fast-tempo cut. As critic Robert Christgau wryly noted, “schmaltz is the man’s meat.” In other words, slow-burning sensuality was Pendergrass’s forte, and TP wisely keeps the focus on that strength. The mid-tempo “I Just Called to Say” and the breezy “Girl You Know” fill out the set list with agreeable, if unexceptional, vibes. They roll by smoothly, supported by Philly’s finest session players, and maintain the album’s mellow atmosphere. But compared to the tour-de-force numbers, these songs are more modest in impact, palate cleansers between the emotional highs. Pendergrass’s sheer vocal quality carries them (his voice could make even a menu sound seductive), yet they’re not the main attractions.
Despite being assembled from sessions with multiple producers and songwriters, the album flows as a unified suite of early-’80s soul, consistently anchored by Pendergrass’s rich baritone and lover-man persona. The mood moves gracefully from candlelit balladry to gentle funk and back again, never jarring the listener out of the sensual spell. Only once does Teddy honestly pick up the pace, and that brief uptempo excursion feels like a natural breather before the next slow jam. At just under forty minutes, the album doesn’t overstay its welcome; if anything, it leaves one wanting to flip the record over and experience the seduction all over again. In terms of highlight moments, TP offers an abundance. The dramatic pleading of “Can’t We Try,” the cool confessional groove of “Love T.K.O.,” and the searing duet “Feel the Fire” are each career milestones on their own, and together on one record, they showcase the range of Pendergrass’s romantic R&B artistry. Even the lesser-known cuts have their charms, whether it’s the call-and-response fun of “Take Me in Your Arms Tonight” or the polished AOR soul of “I Just Called to Say,” you can sense Pendergrass giving his all, determined to please his audience. If there is a critique, it’s that a couple of songs are merely good rather than great. But that hardly diminishes the album’s overall impact.
By 1980, disco’s glitter was fading and contemporary R&B was shifting toward smoother, more intimate textures, a shift Pendergrass had anticipated and helped spearhead with his late-‘70s hits. TP embodies that transition: there’s still a trace of the lush orchestration and sophisticated grooves that characterized the Philly International heyday, but the dominant vibe is slow, sensual, and “for lovers only.” This album solidified Pendergrass’s role as king of the quiet storm just as the radio format of the same name was becoming a fixture on FM dials. One can draw a direct line from the torrid balladry of TP to the work of artists like Luther Vandross, who debuted not long after and openly cited Pendergrass as an influence (from the 1990s likes of Keith Sweat and Maxwell to newer torchbearers). Within Pendergrass’s discography, TP is often regarded as a high-water mark. It would tragically be one of his last albums before a 1982 car accident abruptly changed the course of his life and career, making TP something of a final document of Teddy at full power.
Standout (★★★★½)