Picking up in July 1971, precisely where its predecessor left off, The Complete Motown Singles, Vol. 11B runs through the back half of 1971, collecting all the singles released on Motown and its subsidiaries during these six months. 1971 was the first year split in two by the archivists at Hip-O Select, a move that makes sense given the slowly expanding length of the singles and the sheer number of releases (not to mention alternate mixes) the label churned out in 12 months. This set runs 120 songs over the course of five discs, with its companion weighing in at 119 songs on six discs, and an 11-disc box set for a single year is simply too much to digest at once. Of course, having 1971 cleaved in two doesn't necessarily make it easier to digest, nor does it quite camouflage a year that was transitional at best and confused at worst. Much of this muddle is down to shifting times and fashions, as Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder moved toward risky album-based projects, but R&B was getting funkier outside of Motown, and the label had a few worthy attempts to follow the flow, even if they didn't go far on the charts. Motown also had some stabs at interesting esoteric, almost psychedelic, soul, such as Jack Hammer's "Colour Combination," a rarity that fits in well with all the hippie rock and AM pop Motown's Rare Earth label churned out during these six months. There's more of this rock-oriented stuff here than one might initially think -- singles from Rare Earth themselves, but also Sunday Funnies (who came to Andrew Loog Oldham via Punch Andrews, wind up sounding like neither the Stones or Seger), a second single from Stoney & Meatloaf, and a brilliant piece of bubblegum by the Messengers called "That's the Way a Woman Is" that kicks off the set in a deceptive fashion. Or maybe it isn't quite so misleading to have this volume of The Complete Motown Singles open with such a sugary confection because it does indicate how thoroughly showbiz the label was in 1971, touching upon all manners of styles and trends. This was apparent on 11A, too, but the paucity of classic hits -- Marvin's "Inner City Blues (Make Me Wanna Holler)," Stevie Wonder's "If You Really Love Me," and Michael Jackson, already breaking away from his brothers just two years after their first hit, with "Got to Be There" -- winds up emphasizing all the oddities here, whether it's Tony & Carolyn's shameless Carpenters rip-off, Bobby Darin attempting protest folk about five years too late, LA DJ Tom Clay's smarmy recitation "Whatever Happened to Love" and the Rustix's thoroughly depressing "We All End Up In Boxes." Plenty of good stuff surrounds these often bewildering shots in the dark -- it's good to hear Smokey Robinson bring quiet storm to shape with "Satisfaction," Eddie Kendricks get real seductive with "Can I," Virgil Henry's rarity "I Can't Believe You're Really Leaving" is a deserved cult classic -- enough for the devoted to find this necessary (although even some of these listeners might find their patience tested by all the stereo promo mixes that don't sound all that different from the issued mix; yes, they're collector bait and part of the reason for this series to even exist, but less fanatical devotees may find themselves wishing these mixes were excised so they can see the forest for the trees) but the overall picture of 1971 that the two box sets paint is one of a label that was turning into an institution, getting so big it was losing sight of many of its strengths.