My brother lives in South Philadelphia, and he turned me on to this excellent song a few years ago. It’s featured on Hall & Oates first album Whole Oats (that title… seriously guys?), but it’s also included on The Atlantic Collection, an excellent compilation of early material for the Philly-based Atlantic Records label.
Both musicians were intertwined with the city of Philadelphia. In their teens they frequented Philadelphia ghettos, joining doo-wop groups on street corners. They met at a battle of the bands in a freight elevator after gunfire scattered the crowd. In ‘69 Hall released a single with a young Gamble Huff (later known for his work with the legendary Philly soul production team Gamble, Leon, and Huff), then after traveling to Europe to sing backup and play with Philly soul bands (Delfonics, Stylistics) Oates came back to Philly and the two collaborated for their folksy, unsuccessful debut on Atlantic.
The album is a solid slab of mellow harmony-laced Philadelphia soul pop, and “Fall in Philadelphia” contextualizes the duo right in the midst of the late 60s/early 70s Philly soul scene. A strong piano line chops through bass notes while a Rundgren-esque guitar solo cuts through the horns for the outro (Rundgren would go on to produce their second album). There’s also one of the smoothest choruses in the band’s gigantic catalog. The thematic arch of the song is what really interests me, though. In the liner notes for The Atlantic Collection Hall states that “the song is about how horrible it is to be in Philadelphia, but they still play it there on the radio every fall. I don’t know why.” This quote jumps out at me on a personal level. I was born in Philadelphia and I’ve often heard the song played on Philadelphia radio stations without a shred of irony.
Unlike Daryl Hall, I think I know why that is. The spirit of Philadelphia has always been difficult for me to conjure to those unfamiliar with it, but the phenomenon surrounding this song comes close to being a perfect representation. Lyrically, it taps into insults often thrown Philadelphia’s way — having been consistently voted fattest, ugliest, dirtiest, meanest, most miserable city. There’s something beautiful in the fact that neither those surveys nor the song can ever really damage Philadelphian’s pride. Instead, the grittiness is exalted and the despair of the song’s chorus (“I’m gonna spend another fall in Philadelphia”) is appropriated as a creed. “Fall in Philadelphia” joins songs like “Born in the U.S.A.” that were received far differently than intended. While “Born in the USA” might forever fail as a patriotic anthem, I’m pretty sure the enduring resignation of “Fall in Philadelphia” will connect with the spirit of Philadelphia much more than Hall & Oates ever care to admit.
