As a musician, a producer, a composer and an executive, Quincy Jones created hits. But in a career that stretched across three-quarters of a century, what may have been more important about this giant of American music — who died Sunday at age 91 — is that he created the conditions for hits. Jones was a crucial connector of talent and repertoire; he had an instinctive sense of where artists should go to find success; he built a multimedia empire with an eye toward empowering people for whom show business didn’t always make room. His magnum opus was Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” widely agreed upon as the bestselling album of all time. But even that blockbuster merely scratches the surface of his cultural impact. Here, in the order they were released, are 15 of his essential recordings:
If Mike Myers hadn’t created Austin Powers — whose series of films employs this instrumental ditty as a theme — somebody would’ve had to have come up with a similar character just to take advantage of the song’s limitless swag.
- Lesley Gore, “It’s My Party” (1963)
At age 16, Gore topped Billboard’s Hot 100 on her very first try: Her debut single, which Jones put together as part of his day job as a staff producer at Mercury Records, is a rollicking expression of teenage frustration, with drums and horns that feel about two clicks rawer than you’d expect no matter how many times you hear the song.
- Frank Sinatra, “Fly Me to the Moon” (1964)
Johnny Mathis, Nancy Wilson and Peggy Lee had already recorded Bart Howard’s romantic entreaty by the time Jones arranged a version for Sinatra on the latter’s “It Might As Well Be Swing” LP with Count Basie. But nobody made the song jump like Jones did — one reason Ol’ Blue Eyes kept working with him for the next two decades (including on Sinatra’s final solo studio album, 1984’s wonderfully schmaltzy “L.A. Is My Lady”).
- “The Streetbeater” (1972)
TV never knew a funkier theme song than the one Jones composed for “Sanford & Son.”
- Aretha Franklin, “Somewhere” (1973)
Franklin made only a single studio LP with Jones: “Hey Now Hey (The Other Side of the Sky),” which they recorded in the wake of Franklin’s twin 1972 landmarks, “Young, Gifted and Black” and the live gospel album “Amazing Grace.” Her slow-burning rendition of Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim’s “West Side Story” ballad — “my all-time favorite,” Jones told The Times in 2018 — is six minutes of lush orchestral jazz in which Franklin sounds as untethered as she ever did.
Primo ’70s soul-funk later sampled by Tupac Shakur for his chart-topping “How Do U Want It.”
- The Brothers Johnson, “Strawberry Letter 23” (1977)
Written and recorded in the early ’70s by the psychedelic-soul eccentric Shuggie Otis, “Strawberry Letter 23” went pop when Jones cut a version half a decade later with the Brothers Johnson. The song circled back again in the early ’90s when Color Me Badd interpolated it for “I Wanna Sex You Up” and then again in the early 2000s when Outkast drew on the song for “Ms. Jackson.”
- Diana Ross and Michael Jackson, “Ease on Down the Road” (1978)
Jones and Jackson met when the two worked on director Sidney Lumet’s big-screen adaptation of the Broadway musical “The Wiz.” Their propulsive take on the show’s “Ease on Down the Road” provided a tantalizing hint of what was to come when the singer and the producer hunkered down to plot Jackson’s next career move.
- Michael Jackson, “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” (1979)
What happened, of course, was this: a glittering disco-soul fantasia that still ranks as one of the greatest album openers in pop history. “You know, I was wondering if you could keep on,” Jackson murmurs over a strutting bass line in his breathy spoken introduction, “because the force, it’s got a lot of power, and it make me feel like …” Then the 20-year-old unleashes the high-pitched squeal that let everybody know this former kiddie star had become a man.
- George Benson, “Give Me the Night” (1980)
Having drafted Rod Temperton of Heatwave to write for Jackson’s “Off the Wall” LP, Jones drew on Temperton’s talents again for this perky disco-soul jam by the jazz guitarist turned adult-contemporary hitmaker.
One of three tracks sung by the great James Ingram on Jones’ album “The Dude,” this quiet-storm ballad (written by the venerable husband-wife duo of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil) is one of Jones’ swankest R&B productions.
- Michael Jackson, “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’’ (1982)
“Thriller” spun off bigger hits (“Billie Jean”) and more iconic cultural moments (“Beat It”). But as a demonstration of the musical intelligence that Jones and Jackson commanded together in the studio, the album’s astonishing opener — again with the opener! — simply has no equal. You could spend days under your headphones unraveling the dense weave of riffs, licks, rhythms and languages in this song.
- USA for Africa, “We Are the World” (1985)
The charity single to end all charity singles is rightly remembered as a feat of logistics. But listen, if you haven’t in a while, to the distinct vocal performances Jones coaxes out of just a few of the song’s many stars in the section where Dionne Warwick (cool and regal) throws to Willie Nelson (trippy yet down-home), who throws to Al Jarreau (smoothly declamatory), who throws to Bruce Springsteen (as parched as anyone in Los Angeles has ever been).
- “The Secret Garden (Sweet Seduction Suite),” with Barry White, Al B. Sure!, James Ingram and El DeBarge (1989)
Jones used his star-studded “Back on the Block” album to prove that he still mattered as an R&B auteur in an age dominated by some of his inheritors, including Teddy Riley and the duos of Babyface and L.A. Reid and Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. Thanks in part to this steamy boudoir confab, the LP took the top album of the year Grammy Award (along with five more out of his total of 28) at the Grammys in 1991.
- The Weeknd, “A Tale by Quincy” (2022)
The final high-profile appearance of Jones’ career came in the form of a monologue about his complicated childhood that serves as an interlude on the Weeknd’s very “Off the Wall”-ish “Dawn FM.” Think of the track as one last testament to Jones’ belief in music as a place to explore one’s emotional vulnerabilities — and one more instance in which he understood the value of proximity to heat.
