When I told my aunty Judith we were going to see Motown legend Smokey Robinson live in Birmingham, she almost collapsed.
“I’ve been telling everyone at work about it all day,” she said over the phone, thrilled at the chance to see one of her lifelong idols – still performing some 60 years into his career.
My aunt Ju was born in the late 1950s and came of age during the Motown explosion.
Visiting Detroit, the birthplace of that era-defining sound, a city where Smokey, Marvin Gaye, and Stevie Wonder helped shape musical history at that tiny West Grand Boulevard studio, has long been a dream of hers.
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Her childlike excitement and anticipation was infectious from the moment we stepped inside Utilita Arena – almost two hours before Smokey was set to perform.
I’m not a superfan, but I knew I was witnessing something rare, one of the world’s most famous living musical legends about to step out on stage.
When the lights came up, the gifted songwriter, on his first UK tour in a decade, emerged to a roar of applause; dressed in a dazzling white tuxedo.
Aunt Ju screamed “I loved you Smokey” on, let me tell you, more than one occasion. Some turned around with eyebrows raised. We did not care.
The stage was stripped back and intimate. It felt like Smokey had just entered my living room.
At 85, he should not be able to still move with such swagger. But here he was, getting seriously low, swaying those hips to his backing dancers: ‘Smoke’s Angels’.
“I just had to get that out of my system,” he said after a little shimmy.
His set opened with smooth 80s soul banger Being With You, followed by I Second That Emotion, before hit after hit followed.
His voice is still stunning: soft and high, romantic; soothing.
Then came You’ve Really Got a Hold On Me – my personal favourite because it always takes me somewhere pleasant.
On this occasion: a dimly-lit bar in Detroit, cigar smoke curling from an ash tray, whiskey on the rocks in hand.
Though this tour celebrates the 50th anniversary of his classic album, A Quiet Storm, Smokey didn’t stick to just that.
He gave us the hits, but also the the deep cuts, including three tracks from his 2023 album Gasms.
“Put gasm on those drums,” he told his band, before crooning the lyric “you’re the one responsible for my gasms”.
“It means whatever you want it to mean,” he told his audience. I think we all get what it means, Smokey.
But it wasn’t all about sex. He was also brilliantly funny.
At the midway point he was cracking jokes about how his good friend Stevie Wonder (yes, that is the blind Stevie Wonder) once offered him a lift home. He was also excellent at taking the p*** out of the audience.
His charisma was magnetic, his charm palpable.
By the time The Tears of a Clown played – his standout moment – I realised I knew far more of his songs than I’d first thought.
Aunt Ju was in full swing by then, singing along to every word, lost in the fumes of Smokey’s trance.
As the show drew to a close, the reason for Motown’s success was becoming painfully obvious. It was beginning to make sense in ways it hadn’t before.
The suits. The soul. The smoothness. The lyrics. That voice. How it is non-stop ‘feel good’.
The birth of Motown was long before my time but I was starting to see what my aunt had always seen.
“That made me feel quite emotional,” she said following the show. “I’ve loved and followed Motown from a very young age and it has carried me through some of the most difficult times.”
Once we’d left the arena we both made a pact: one way or another, we’re going to Detroit.