Ain't No Mountain High Enough

What Ashford & Simpson wrote and what Harvey Fuqua and Johnny Bristol produced here was something close to a manifesto — a declaration of total devotion expressed in the language of physical obstacle and unconditional response. The arrangement is exuberant in the way that only a certain strain of mid-1960s soul could manage: the full orchestra engaged, the rhythm section propulsive without being aggressive, every instrument participating in the statement the song is making. The genius of the recording is in the conversation between Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell — not call and response exactly, more like two voices that are so attuned to each other that they finish each other's emotional sentences. Gaye's voice is smooth and persuasive, with a warmth that makes his promises feel credible; Terrell brings something slightly more urgent, more pressing, as if she's already tested these promises and found them true. Together they generate a chemistry that has nothing performed about it — it sounds like two people who have decided something and are simply announcing it. The song's core proposition is romantic absolutism: no circumstance is sufficient reason to abandon someone you love. As a piece of cultural optimism it's almost startling. This is the record for moments of pure commitment — the car ride, the early morning, the sudden decision to mean everything you've been saying.