There are times in life when I genuinely feel my life would be a better place if I had a permanent backup group.

Growing up with Homer McCollum as a father  meant that “oldies” were destined to become a major part of my music repertoire. They were and always will be.

To me, the best groups of the ‘60s and ‘70s were the ones that eventually came to contain a clearly established lead vocalist and a backup group primarily composed of singers.

Diana Ross and the Supremes.

Smokey Robinson and the Miracles.

Martha Reeves and the Vandellas.

And, of course, the greatest of them all: Gladys Knight and the Pips.

“But, Cliff,” you say, “why do you want a backup group for everyday life? Why not just form a band?”

A band is nice, but I’d like the constant form of reassurance and love a backup group seems offer their leader with me 24/7.

At times when I need a point reiterated emphatically, my backup singers could swoop in and repeat the last few words of my statement, perhaps adding some form of affirmative after it. A simple “Yes” or “Uh huh” - I’m low-maintenance. Even one of those “Aahh-ooohs” from Aretha’s backup singers on “Natural Woman” would suffice.

How could you hope to rebut a statement that is made and followed by a three-part harmony and interesting footwork from either a group of dudes in powder blue tuxes or three lovely ladies in short, sequined dresses?

Answer: you can’t.

They could come in with unexpected harmonies, lending tone and mood to my statements and ravings.

They could even offer support in moments of extreme self-doubt or sadness.

If I can’t find a way to have my own backup group, I may be forced to create one.

For years, along with a ragtag group of my high school pals, I’ve threatened to create a backup group for weddings - named, of course, the Wedlocks.

When the preacher asks if the groom takes this woman to be married and he replies I do, we’d come in with a chorus of “He say he do” with a little spinning footwork for show.

It could work, right?

In the Gladys Knight and the Pips song “I’ve Got to Use My Imagination,” Gladys tells us there’s “darkness all around [her], and it just won’t let [her] go” and that “emptiness has found [her], blocking out the sun.” She’s given up; she’s ready to quit.

Enter the Pips.

“You’re too strong not to keep on keepin’ on,” they counter, forcefully.

Gladys, her confidence rebounding with this show of support from her Pips, responds with a vocal, enthusiastic “Yes, I am!”

Yes, you are, indeed, Gladys. Through that, we learn we are all, in fact, too strong not to “keep on keepin’ on.”

Backup groups have a grand historical tradition.

From the Greek choruses’ laments in Euripides’ works or bitter truths from Aristophanes’ plays to their modern musical incarnation, the concept of using a group of people to stake out or reemphasize an important point is bedrock.

A group speaking in unison makes us take pause, take notice and consider what we’re hearing.

Smokey knew it.

Gladys knew it.

And, now, we know it.

We just traded the masks and tunics of the Greeks for microphones and the ability to not clap on one and three we get from the Bluebelles or the Family Stone.

Cliff McCollum is managing editor of Gulf Coast Media. He can be reached at cliff@gulfcoastmedia.com.