1983 · Behind the Songs
“A Memphis soul standard, rebuilt in Sheffield with synthesizers — and a comeback began.”
Released in Britain on November 7, 1983, and in America two months later, “Let’s Stay Together” was Tina Turner’s comeback single in the truest sense: the record that announced her return. It came from Private Dancer, her Capitol album of the following spring, and it was produced by Martyn Ware and Greg Walsh — her second collaboration with the Heaven 17 and British Electric Foundation circle, following 1982’s “Ball of Confusion.”
The song itself was twelve years old. Al Green had released it in November 1971 as a single on Hi 2202, written with Willie Mitchell and Al Jackson Jr. and produced by Mitchell. It spent sixteen weeks on the Billboard Hot 100, reaching number one, and held the top of the R&B chart for nine weeks. Decades later it entered the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999 and the Library of Congress National Recording Registry in 2010, and it sat at number 60 on Rolling Stone’s 2004 ranking of the 500 greatest songs.
Turner’s version kept the song’s pleading center and rebuilt everything around it. Ware’s programming and electronic drums, Nick Plytas’s piano and synthesizer, Ray Russell’s guitar, and percussion from Rupert Hine and Frank Ricotti gave the Memphis original a Sheffield frame, while Gary Barnacle’s saxophone and backing vocals from Heaven 17’s Glenn Gregory filled out the sound. The single ran 3:36; the album version stretched to 5:14.
The charts told the story of a door reopening. In Britain the single reached number six — one place higher than Al Green’s original had managed there. In America it reached number 26 on the Hot 100, number three on the R&B chart, number one on the Dance chart, and number 24 on Cash Box, making it the most successful solo single of her career to that point. David Mallet directed the video, and the B-side was “I Wrote a Letter.”
Listening now, the record’s gamble is what stands out: a singer known for raw force trusting a cool electronic arrangement, and a twelve-year-old soul ballad carrying the weight of a comeback. It worked — and Private Dancer was waiting on the other side.