The human condition explained in three-minute bursts

The vast majority of duets are man-woman, but Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson showed that a single-sex pairing could work too with 1982’s Ebony and Ivory, the latter also taking the duet into new territory as regards subject matter. A plea for racial harmony sung by one white megastar and one black legend, and a solid gold McCartney tune into the bargain.
McCartney repeated the trick a year or so later with Michael Jackson and Say Say Say, but without the racial message, and it worked a treat once again.
There followed another golden age of the duet with the film-related likes of Up Where We Belong (Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes) and Phil Collins and Marilyn Martin’s Separate Lives. And there was Olivia Newton John and John Travolta with You’re The One That I Want and Summer Nights.

The astonishing vein of form hit by the Bee Gees in the 1970s meant they had hit songs to spare, and Barry Gibb put some to good use with Barbra Streisand, notably Guilty. Streisand apparently liked the duo format so much that she teamed up with several more people, including Neil Diamond on You Don’t Bring Me Flowers, and Donna Summer for Enough is Enough.
Meanwhile, away from the pop charts, The Band’s farewell performance had been made into a film, The Last Waltz, by Martin Scorsese, and tacked onto the end is a song seemingly recorded at the same venue in private a day or two later. By definition a duet involves two singers, but The Band had three lead vocalists who took turns, and in this case Rick Danko and Levon Helm did a verse each, with Emmylou Harris joining in. If being well rehearsed is key to a good performance, this is a minor miracle, because guitarist Robbie Robertson had only written the song the night before. To further confuse matters, it sounds like a Cajun folk song.
Back in the top 40, Lionel Richie and Diana Ross hit big with Endless Love, which also sold by the bucketload a few years later in the hands of Luther Vandross and Mariah Carey.

Stevie Nicks enjoyed the genre, it seems, doing Leather and Lace with Don Henley and Stop Dragging My Heart Around with Tom Petty.
George Michael, too, took advantage of his fame to partner with Aretha Franklin on I Knew You Were Waiting and Mary J Blige on Stevie Wonder’s sublime Always. Both brave moves: it was like a decent amateur boxer getting into the ring with Mike Tyson, but perhaps Michael had more confidence in himself than some us had in him.
From around that point the duet goes into decline. In the past 20 years or so there have been plenty of songs featuring a guest singer, but often this takes the form of an already-recorded performance being dropped into a new one, sometimes even with no pretence at the two vocalists having been in the same studio at the same time. Rap songs can often benefit from a drop of melody, as Eminem’s adaptation of Dido’s Thank You for his own Stan amply demonstrates. And it resulted in exposure for both of them to the other’s audience, which means more sales and more profit. But it’s not a duet.

Jay Z and Alicia Keys may have issued a joint version of Empire State of Mind, but the piano diva’s solo version sounds like the real deal, while Nelly Furtado and Timbaland’s Promiscuous also doesn’t feel like a true partnership.
The same could be said, admittedly, for Natalie Cole’s reworking of her long-dead father Nat’s old hit Unforgettable. But it works, and although some uncharitable souls have seen it as disrespectful and perhaps commercially-motivated, to these ears it’s just beautiful and if she felt she had to make that connection with her Dad through what technology had made possible, then good for her.
Finally, if I may be permitted a personal favourite that is a bit of a rarity, I was browsing through YouTube one day when I came across Burt Bacharach doing a live version of A House is not a Home. Alone at the piano, he laboured through a minute or so until I wished Dionne Warwick was there, when suddenly the audience buzzed as Dusty Springfield appeared and took over. Shivers down the spine. Burt croaked some harmonies, but only showed why he is principally a composer rather than a singer – and as much as I love Dionne Warwick, in the right mood Dusty could make her sound like Miss Piggy.
Here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KmS473ToPW8
Great post as ever and the Burt/Dusty duet! My personal favourite duet is Lucky Stars by Dean Friedman and Denise Marsa although she sadly wasn’t credited on the record. Not a cool choice but reminds me of a specific time in my life so fond memories. Jennifer Warnes cornered the market in big-selling film-related songs in the 80s as she also recorded the theme song for Dirty Dancing with Bill Medley (as I’m sure you know). Good for the pension pot!
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Yes, Lucky Stars was infuriatingly catchy, even if it crossed from poignant into cheesy a lot. I know what you mean about circumstances affecting how a song makes you feel. We all have our guilty pleasures and mine is a catalogue of pop favourites. As a musician I love a lot of rock stuff and take music quite seriously (The Smiths, Television, Jimi Hendrix and Neil Young are among my favourites) but I am also a sucker for a good chune of whatever stripe. I once confided to a Dylan-loving friend that I liked Kylie and Jason’s Especially For You and he didn’t even think it was funny; he was appalled, ashamed. But that song still makes me fill up when I hear it.
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So true – I really appreciate all the worthy stuff but I am also really fond of material others find a bit naff. As you get older though you have the confidence to admit it, and not care what others think. Heard a Jason Donovan medley on the car radio recently and it made me really happy!
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