Brother Louie (1973)

Performer: The Stories                                          Writers: Errol Brown & Tony Wilson
Highest US Chart Position: #1                               Label: Kama Sutra Records
Musicians: Ian Lloyd, Steve Love, Kenny Aaronson, Ken Bichel and Bryan Madey

This is just one of the greatest songs ever recorded. “Brother Louie” was written by Errol Brown and Tony Wilson of the British band Hot Chocolate and released as a single in early 1973. The song went all the way to number seven in the U.K. charts, but failed to crack the Hot 100 in the States. The song was about an interracial relationship between a black girl and a white boy and the negative reaction of both of their parents. Though it was released several months prior, it shares a similar construction as Stevie Wonder’s “Living for the City” with a middle section that tells a story, in this case each of the couple’s parents weighing in with their racist views of the other. Ian Lloyd, the bassist and front man for the American group The Stories, heard the song and liked it. As the group was just finishing up recording their second album for Kama Sutra called About Us, they decided to revamp the song and record it as a single with the last song on the album, the ethereal “What Comes After,” on the B-side. But while their single of “Brother Louie” raced up the charts, sales of the album were lagging, so the company quickly grafted the new track onto subsequent pressings of the album and helped it to reach number 29 that August, at nearly the same time the single hit number one.

The song begins on the downbeat with Ken Bichel’s piano, then Bryan Madey’s hi-hat slipping in just after and coming down crisply on the snare on two. At the same time Steve Love’s distinctive guitar, part wah-wah and part tremolo, strums whole notes in the background before assuming the lead part going into the first verse. “She was black, as the night. Louie was whiter than white.” Madey lays on a heavy backbeat while Bichel provides some nice piano fills between Ian Lloyd’s raspy vocals. The lyrics are great in their attempt to diffuse a delicate situation by being the voice of reason, “Nothing bad, it was good.” But of course his family is not so accepting, and this takes the band into the first chorus. The distinctive chant of the title character’s name owes something to the Kingsmen’s hit single, “Louie, Louie,” from 1963. But the heavily soul-influenced chorus here is utterly different and yet familiar enough to catch the ear of the record-buying public. The other unique signature of the song is the solo sections that follow each chorus. The first is by Love, with Bichel’s organ in the background, and this is followed immediately by the string section playing the same solo part. After the second chorus, however, the guitar and strings trade off and finally play in unison heading into the final out chorus.

It’s a breathtaking number that hits on a number of levels. In a more innocent time, inter-racial couples were much more controversial. But the song also laid the groundwork for white bands with aspirations to play soul music, whether in imitation of black singers, like Wild Cherry, or just singing white like Average White Band. In the summer of 1973 my parents hired a babysitter to stay with me and my brother and sisters during the day. Unbeknownst to them, however, she would pile us all in her powder blue Plymouth Duster and drive us all over the county to visit friends, but especially to visit her boyfriend, a Mexican-American who lived on the south side of town. She used to say this was their song because her parents didn’t want her seeing him. But I spend a lot of time sitting in the car waiting for her with the windows down and the radio on, and as a result it was the first time I really became conscious of popular music. “Brother Louie” always gave me a frisson of the illicit whenever it came on and has since been one of my favorite songs of all time. The rest of the audience evidently felt the same way as it entered the charts on June 23rd and stayed on the charts the entire summer, peaking at number one on August 25th.

Hit Boots (1970)

Performer: Boots Randolph                                    Composers: Various
Album US Chart Position: #157                              Label: Monument Records
Producer: Fred Foster                                             Arranger/Conductor: Bill Walker

Though it might seem odd, this album is one of the most important musical experiences of my life. When I was in the fifth grade in 1972, band teachers from the high school came down to find out who wanted to play musical instruments and get them started. I can clearly remember thinking that being in band must be about the stupidest thing someone could ever do. I had absolutely no interest in playing music and other kids like me wound up singing with one of the grade school teachers while the band kids practiced. That summer--it must have been during the Fourth of July week--my family went up to the lake and the first day there I got a scorching burn on my shoulders from the water. The next day I had to stay in the trailer lying on my stomach after my mom put some kind of lotion on my back. That year she and my dad had purchased a cassette tape deck and mom joined the Columbia Record Club. After listening to them over and over that week, I can remember with crystal clarity every one of her six selections, one of which happened to be Hit Boots by Boots Randolph. I had obviously never heard of him, but in listening to this album I became mesmerized by the sound of his saxophone. The next year at school, when the band instructors came around again, I tried out for the sax and only the sax. If I couldn’t play that instrument I didn’t want to play at all. The rest, as they say, is history.

Though the album was released in 1970 the hits are those from the previous couple of years, some of which I was vaguely familiar with from television, and some I was not. Label owner Fred Foster is listed as producer, though it’s difficult to know how much work he did on the actual sound. Arranger and conductor Bill Walker was a European who had moved to Nashville in 1964. His arrangements do a nice job of emulating some of what made the songs hits, many with the kind of vocal chorus that owes a debt to Mitch Miller and was ubiquitous in country music for several decades. The album begins with the 1968 hit by Mary Hopkins, “Those Were the Days,” complete with strings and wordless vocals. Next up is the Credence Clearwater’s “Proud Mary,” which went to number two in 1969, and “Both Sides Now,” by Joni Mitchell from the same year. This is followed by a medley of “Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine In,” the signature song from the Broadway musical Hair, which my folks also owned the soundtrack album to. Two Burt Bacharach songs end the first side of the LP, “Do You Know the Way to San Jose,” written for Dionne Warwick in 1968 and “Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head” by B.J. Thomas from the soundtrack to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The Simon and Garfunkel hit “Bridge over Trouble Water” opens side two, and the rest I didn’t really know at the time.

Monument Records was formed, appropriately enough, in Washington D.C. by Fred Foster in 1958. After some success in the Baltimore area, Foster moved the label to Nashville and recorded a wide variety of music, including country. Being from Kentucky, Boots Randolph naturally gravitated to Nashville after a long running engagement in Decatur, Illinois. Initially a session man, his first big success at Monument was in 1963 with “Yakety Sax,” a number he co-wrote with Spider Rich that was based on King Curtis’s saxophone solo in the Coaster’s 1958 song “Yakety Yak.” From then on Randolph supplemented his studio work by recording instrumental albums of hit songs or themes like religious or country music. I haven’t been able to find any information on the musicians who played on the album, as they were simply anonymous session musicians working in Nashville at the time. Randolph had a husky tenor sound, and in a couple of spots he showed that he had some decent jazz chops, but instead chose to work in the easy listening category. He had steady employment as a session musician, appearing on songs by Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Brenda Lee, and was a regular sideman for Chet Atkins. Hit Boots is not for everyone, reaching only 157 on the album charts in 1970, but it was so important to me as an inspiration for becoming a musician that it will always be one of my favorite albums of the seventies.

Livin’ Ain’t Livin’ (1976)

Performer: Firefall                                                  Writer: Rick Roberts
Highest US Chart Position: #42                             Label: Atlantic Records
Musicians: Rick Roberts, Larry Burnett, David Muse, Mark Andes and Michael Clark

Firefall was one of the great country-rock units of the seventies. Their breakout self-titled debut album from 1976, Firefall, was one of the defining musical moments of that year and spawned their biggest hit, the number nine “You Are the Woman” that fall. The thing that made the group unique among outfits plying the same trade was the presence of David Muse, who not only provided keyboard support but the distinctive saxophone and flute parts for the group. At this point in the group’s evolution, however, he wasn’t even a full member of the band, but all of that changed by the time the second album was released. The first single off of the album was “Livin’ Ain’t Livin’” which featured Muse on the tenor sax. The song was written by founding member Rick Roberts, who had previously been a member of the Flying Burrito Brothers and had released two solo albums in the early seventies that weren’t able to gain any traction on the airwaves. A series of accidents stemming from demo tapes produced by Chris Hillman, a former Burrito band mate of Roberts’, led to a recording contract with Atlantic and their first album, the quickest in the Atlantic catalogue to reach gold.

The song begins with deep, sliding notes on the guitar by Jock Bartley and a mournful wail on the saxophone by David Muse. This is accompanied by the acoustic guitars of Rick Roberts and Larry Burnett while drummer Michael Clark plays rapid-fire sixteenth notes on the closed hi-hat. The first verse begins immediately with Roberts singing and Mark Andes coming in on the bass. It’s an up-tempo number that deals with the regrets of the narrator about his poor treatment of women in the past. Now he has discovered, perhaps too late, that life isn’t so great being alone. What he wants is someone to share his life with and realizes that livin’ ain’t really livin’ when it’s alone. It’s a nice chorus that is thick with vocals and saxophone backing, and actually ends with the title words. From there Muse goes directly into a saxophone break before the second verse. The verses are punctuated with lead guitar fills by Bartley that seem to sustain and resonate throughout the chorus, but it is actually low-end synthesizer effects by Muse. After the second chorus Muse and Bartley trade off on a guitar and saxophone solo that builds to a break, with Roberts singing the first part of the third verse by himself and his acoustic guitar, backed only by Clark’s hi-hats and congas by percussionist Joe Lala. Muse and Bartley continue to trade off on the exit chorus with Roberts ad-libbing vocal fills, and the same ascending build-up after the solo concludes the song.

While it lacked the sales of their next single, the song was the perfect one to release first from the album as it really captured their sound more accurately than the follow up. One of the aspects of the group that may have been responsible for that unique sound was that they were based in Colorado rather than Southern California where the roots of country-rock were primarily formed. The single entered the Billboard Hot 100 on June 5th at the number 83 spot and made its way up to number 42 by the middle of July before dropping off two weeks later. The B-side is “Love Isn’t All,” medium tempo ballad by the other writer in the group, Larry Burnett, the composer responsible for “Cinderella,” the final single released from the album early in 1977. While the A-side is one of Firefall’s memorable singles, it’s not one that I can specifically recall hearing at the time. That summer I went with my family to Hawaii and with the song not reaching the Top 40 it’s possible that it didn’t get enough of a rotation on radio stations to catch my attention. Nevertheless, “Livin’ Ain’t Livin’” is one of a number of tracks on their debut album that explains its rapid rise in the album charts and the continuing popularity of Firefall.

Quick Change Artist (1975)

Performer: Bachman-Turner Overdrive                 Writers: Randy Bachman & C.F. Turner
Highest US Chart Position: N/A                             Label: Mercury Records
Musicians: Randy Bachman, Blair Thornton, C.F. Turner and Robbie Bachman

My little brother loved Bachman-Turner Overdrive, but I think the only album he ever owned by the group was Four Wheel Drive. Of course no one could have made it through the seventies without hearing their classics like “Taking Care of Business” and “You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet” on the radio. But while I was never into rock the way he was, I did borrow this album on occasion and I always thought it was terrific. Why the title track was never released as a single, I’ll never know, because it’s one of their best songs. “Quick Change Artist” was the second single released from the album and while it went to number seven on the Canadian charts, it failed to chart in the U.S., but it’s no surprise why. Though BTO always had a certain eclectic mix of songs, this one’s medium tempo and bass-centered introduction are what no doubt doomed it to obscurity. And yet it’s one of the more memorable songs on an album full of memorable songs.

The tune begins with Robbie Bachman playing a sixties-style drumbeat, snare on two and four, as well as the and of three. Then C.F. Turner’s bass enters playing an ascending line that begins each time on descending starting notes, while the guitars strum whole note chords in the background. After two times through Turner comes in singing a wonderfully inventive lyric about a woman who has no compunction at all about using her female prerogative of changing her mind. The verse is accompanied by a heavy backbeat on the drums and guitars, and ends with the ascending intro phrase into the chorus. Here the chord progression changes but that doesn’t really alter the backing rhythm. The end of the chorus charges right into the next verse, which ends on the intro stop and another chorus. Finally a drum break over whole note chords on the guitars provides something of an instrumental bridge and then the background alters on the next verse with only the drums and bass, playing repetitive eighth notes that descend every measure. That leads to yet another chorus with Robbie Bachman splashing the cymbals, a repeat of the intro, and then finally a fade chorus complete with guitar fills.

Though Bachman-Turner Overdrive had some real chart success in the early seventies, they didn’t seem to have earned a lot of critical accolades at the same time. But in terms of pure rock and roll, it’s difficult to think of anyone who is really better at that nitty-gritty style of blue-collar rock than this Canadian group. For one thing, their songs are more jazz-based than say a more blues-based group like AC/DC. They can demonstrate their jazz chops on a number like “Blue Collar,” play a three-chord power rocker like “Four Wheel Drive,” or just as convincingly provide an acoustic introduction to “Lowland Fling” from the Four Wheel Drive album. The B-side of the single is the Randy Bachman tune “She’s Keepin’ Time,” which starts with an almost Almond Brothers like dual guitar introduction before launching into a relentless guitar riff on the verse, a densely voiced chorus, and slide guitar work from Blair Thornton. Though it didn’t chart in the U.S., “Quick Change Artist” is a clever piece of work from one of the more underrated acts from the seventies.

What a Fool Believes (1978)

Performer: Kenny Loggins                                    Writers: Kenny Loggins & Michael McDonald
Album US Chart Position: #7                                Label: Columbia Records
Musicians: Kenny Loggins, Mike Hamilton, Brian Mann, George Hawkins and Tris Imboden

The first time I heard this song on the radio I thought there was something wrong with the turntable at the radio station. It was the wrong speed and the wrong voice, but once I recognized Michael McDonald I realized that he and the Doobie Brothers were covering the song. And then I remember thinking that made sense as he had co-written it with Kenny Loggins. By that time, late December of 1978, I was already intimately familiar with “What a Fool Believes” from Kenny Loggins’ best selling album Nightwatch after listening to it all fall. It was a hard-driving pop song with a tight arrangement and great dynamics about a man who wants to rekindle a long-over relationship with a woman. But he doesn’t realize that she never felt the same way about him. “As he rises to her apology,” leaving him yet again, “anybody else would surely know” that it “never really was.” The chorus is terrific too. “What a fool believes, he sees,” and no one can “reason away” his dreams of getting back together with her. The album turned out to be Loggins’ highest charting album, going to number seven, before the Doobie Brothers’ Minute by Minute was released at the end of the year.

Two pick up notes by the band lead into a guitar solo intro by Mike Hamilton using a wah-wah pedal effect. Brian Mann’s keyboards provide an interesting counter melody climbing up melodically to the downbeat while the guitar goes down, and the drum overdubs by Tris Imboden set up an intricate rhythm underneath. Everything stops on the downbeat and the drums fill into the first verse. The percussive keyboards by Mann, which would become the focal point of the Doobie Brothers’ version, are supported by George Hawkins’ bass, which is prominent in the mix. Call and response background vocals are only used on the first line of the verse, but are used extensively on Loggins’ bridge. On the second half of the bridge the backing instruments set up a syncopated rhythm that changes back on the chorus with long held notes by the backup vocals. What seems to begin as a second verse adds more backing vocals, but after only three lines goes into a brief but frenetic wah-wah guitar solo by Hamilton, and then right into another bridge and chorus with more of a forceful backing and some ad-lib vocals from one of the band members along with Hamilton’s guitar fills. The final fade chorus also has the backing vocals running through some compression effects to the fade out.

It turns out that the song had been mostly written by Michael McDonald, which is the reason that Kenny Loggins never released the song as a single. McDonald was having trouble coming up with a bridge and bassist Tiran Porter, who knew Loggins, suggested that McDonald get together with the singer-songwriter. The story goes that McDonald was at his house playing some of his music for his sister when Loggins came to the door. He heard what McDonald had done on “What a Fool Believes” from the other side, and by the time he was invited inside he already had an idea for the bridge. For me, though, there’s no comparison between the two versions. While the Doobies kind of plod along, the Kenny Loggins’ version is sprightly and incredibly precise as the band seems to perform as one. The cut was the third song on the B-side of the album, but it was always the A-side for me as I naturally dropped the needle on the hit single “Whenever I Call You Friend” first, in what I consider one of the greatest album sides of the seventies. And even though Michael McDonad’s version of “What a Fool Believes” went to number one on the singles charts, I always felt it was because of the advanced familiarity of the song that Loggins’ album provided.

It Don't Come Easy (1971)

Performer: Ringo Starr                                          Writer: Ringo Starr
Highest US Chart Position: #4                              Label: Apple Records
Musicians: Ringo Starr, George Harrison, Stephen Stills and Klaus Voorman

One of my favorite stories about the breakup of the Beatles is that by 1969 the group had essentially dissolved and the members were involved in their own solo projects--John Lennon had two singles in the Top 40 that year alone--but they didn’t want to make the official announcement because of Ringo. While John, George and Paul were all songwriters and would be able to create their own music, they felt horrible about leaving Ringo with nothing but his drum kit. The irony is that Ringo, with a little help from his friends, wound up churning out four top ten hits in two years, including two number ones, before any of the other solo Beatles reached that milestone. In fact, seven out of Ringo’s first eight singles were all top ten hits. But what’s even more ironic, is the fact that his first top ten single, “It Don’t Come Easy” was also written by him . . . well, technically. In reality the tune was mostly written by George Harrison and a bootleg copy of the demo with him singing made the rounds shortly after. Clearly still feeling guilty about abandoning their drummer, Harrison gave Ringo the songwriting credit and the royalties that came with it. It was a terrific gesture and one that would be repeated by his former band mates lending him a hand during his early career.

The song begins with a cymbal roll and then the unmistakable guitar of George Harrison on the intro with Ringo providing some tasty cymbal work. Klaus Voorman comes in on bass the second time around, with Ringo supplying perfectly placed drum fills. The lyrics begins with the chorus, background vocals provided by, among others, Pete Ham and Tommy Evans from Badfinger, Harrison’s de facto backup band at the time. There are only two simple verses, the first about singing the blues and that paying dues doesn’t come easy, the second about trust in a love relationship which is equally as difficult. The primary backing instrument on the verses is the piano played by Stephen Stills. When the bridge comes around between the first two verses it’s augmented by a tight horn section. Ron Cattermole is credited with playing the sax and trumpet, and may have even overdubbed the entire section. On the second bridge an organ can be heard and by the time the guitar solo begins the full band is playing behind Harrison, including some nice backing vocals that include the words “Hare Krishna.” The final section of the song also adds an overdub of Ringo on the tambourine and the horn section, and by the last bridge and verse section the instrumental tracks are so densely packed they resemble a Phil Spector recording. At last the song ends, right where it began, with the intro.

In addition to writing and playing on the song, George Harrison also produced the track for Apple Records. It was made during the sessions for Ringo’s first album, Sentimental Journey, which was released early in 1970. Unlike the rest of the Beatles, Ringo’s albums were usually all-star affairs, a tradition that would be replicated for most of his career. But the decision was made to hold back the single until after the album was released, and in fact no single was ever released from that album. Ringo’s second album, Beaucoups of Blues, was also released later in 1970 and his first single was the title song from the album, a country blues which only managed to make it to number 87 in the charts in November. Finally, “It Don’t Come Easy” was released in April of 1971 and peaked at number four in mid-June, staying on the charts until the end of July. The B-side is “Early 1970,” an autobiographical song about Ringo living in London and his desire to play music with all of the other members of the Beatles, as well as his shortcomings as a solo artist. Though he had other songs that went all the way to number one in the charts, “It Don’t Come Easy” is the song that I associate most with Ringo and is my favorite song of his solo career.

Baby Come Back (1977)

Performer: Player                                                 Writer: J.C. Crowley & Peter Beckett
Highest US Chart Position: #1                              Label: RSO Records
Musicians: Peter Beckett, J.C. Crowley, Wayne Cook, Ronn Moss and John Friesen

Like most of the songs on this blog, there are very specific circumstances associated with this song for me. I was a freshman in high school in the winter of 1977. Our high school was a 9-12 but most of the freshman activities were separate from those of the upper classes, and band was no exception. While the high school jazz band was a regular class, the freshman jazz band had to meet before school at six thirty in the morning. One morning I arrived early at school and parked in the student lot behind the gym. It was pitch black outside and I turned off my lights and decided to keep listening to the radio for a little while before I walked up the stairs to the band room. I had already heard “Baby Come Back” by Player on the radio, but it wasn’t until I had this opportunity to simply listen to the music without any other distraction that I was completely enthralled with this song. There’s a real subtleness to the music, emphasizing the keyboards rather than the guitars, although the twin guitar lines are very memorable. Like a lot of seventies tunes, it has re-entered the popular culture in less than flattering ways, cartoon shows and commercials, amid a general disrespect for music of the era. But it was still a number one hit, and deservedly so, and that will never change.

The song begins with John Friesen tapping out sixteenth notes on a closed hi-hat, and Ronn Moss laying down a simple bass line. Wayne Cook’s keyboard “strum” fills in for two measures before the two lead guitars come in harmonizing, heavy with effects to make it sound as if it’s being run through a Leslie speaker, and supported by a string machine. Then the music stops, gradually fading out until the lyrics begin on the downbeat. It’s a classic breakup song, and was compared in the music press to Hall and Oates’ “She’s Gone,” something the band members resented as their album, on the whole, had a much different sound. The cascading keyboards are the central element of the backing tracks, including the piano on the chorus, as are the distinctive lead guitar parts on the chorus. The real aural hook of the song is the chorus itself, and the dense harmonies that are sung throughout. After the second verse and chorus the bridge is also sung in harmony, with interesting keyboard and clavinet parts separating the phrases. This section builds to a real crescendo with some high vocals by Crowley and then the signature stop, with a keyboard sliding up and fading out. And then it’s back to the chorus, which slows to a kind of false ending before resuming and fading out.

Player began at a Hollywood party where Liverpudlian guitarist Peter Beckett met Texas guitarist and keyboardist John Charles Crowley. Despite their disparate beginnings, the two seemed to have a similar outlook on music and, after a successful jam session, decided that they should put together a band. They eventually brought in bassist Ronn Moss and drummer John Friesen, and later added keyboardist Wayne Cook who didn’t join the group in time to make the cover photo for the album. The group had originally signed with Haven Records, distributed first by Capitol and then Arista, and when the company folded they went over to RSO with the former heads of Haven, Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter. Their first album had been recorded for Haven but when released by Robert Stigwood’s company it fit seamlessly into their organization. “Baby Come Back” entered the charts on October 1, 1977 and reached number one in mid-January of the following year, with the lively pop-rock number “Love Is Where You Find It” on the B-side. It just so happens that the group Player replaced in the number one slot was another of RSO’s acts, The Bee Gees, the beginning of an end-of-the-decade onslaught of chart hits for the label.

That’s the Way of the World (1975)

Performer: Earth, Wind & Fire                              Writers: Maurice White & Charles Stepney
Highest US Chart Position: #12                            Label: Columbia Records
Musicians: Maurice White, Larry Dunn, Al McKay, Verdine White and Ralph Johnson

The summer of 1975 was one of mixed emotions for me. For one thing, that’s when I found out from my mom that my dad had cancer, and that he would possibly have only a few weeks to live. Most of that time between seventh and eighth grade was spent and my paternal grandmother’s house, but for a few weeks my brother and sisters and I went with mom to the university hospital a hundred and fifty miles away from home to stay with her at the apartment of one of Dad’s best friends--who had also been my grade school principal for a few years. Talk about weird. At the same time, that was also the summer I came alive to popular music. I had received my first radio-cassette deck for my birthday and spent hours recording songs off the local radio station. In addition, during the time we were up at the hospital, I can remember looking through the record collection next to the stereo, or sleeping in the front room of the apartment with my head on the pillow listening to the music of the radio coming softly out of the huge speakers in the front room. And Earth, Wind and Fire’s “That’s the Way of the World” is one of the songs I remember most from that time.

The song begins with a soft, syncopated eight-note pattern by Larry Dunn on the electric piano, and Verdine White’s bass playing a sort of pick-up and hold line. Similarly soft drums and percussion by Fred White and Ralph Johnson, heavy on the back beat, supports Andrew Woolfolk’s saxophone playing along with a primarily brass studio horn section. When the vocals enter it sounds as if it’s as many as three voices, Maurice and Verdine White, as well as the newest member of the group, Philip Bailey. The lyrics are vintage EWF, singing of hearts afire, love’s desire, and how this elevated emotion is the real place in the world. The words are sung over the chorus melody and when the first verse comes around, which speaks of moving on from sorrowful days, Maurice White’s vocals are doubled an octave higher by Bailey. Behind this, the guitars of Al McKay and Johnny Graham, while chording, do some sixteenth note strumming that is more like another rhythm pattern than a melodic element. The bridge brings up the volume on the vocals, with call and response harmonies building to the chorus, complete with string section. Philip Bailey does some soaring background vocals, and then everything comes back down to the verse melody and a tasteful guitar solo that plays through the next ad-lib verse. This is followed by a bridge, and a fadeout after the next chorus with lots of the kind of vocal acrobatics the group is known for.

I don’t think I even listen to the words at the time, but looking back they were fairly prescient. All I knew is that the haunting melody and the infectious rhythm of the piece were something that transported me away from the confusion surrounding me. What I didn’t know at the time was that mom had probably taken us with her to the hospital because the doctors told her dad was not going to make it, and she wanted us to be there when he died. But he didn’t die. His cancer went into remission and he stayed around for another nine years, which was pretty miraculous considering the type of cancer he had. Earth, Wind and Fire’s ode to moving on from pain and embracing love entered the Hot 100 on July 5th, 1975 and made its steady ascent to the number twelve spot at the end of September. The album of the same name was ostensibly a soundtrack album for the film of the same name, but That’s the Way of the World was something of a breakout for the group who had produced a couple of lesser Top 40 hits before this, but finally reached the top spot with “Shining Star,” the opening track from the album. “That’s the Way of the World,” along with its instrumental B-side “Africano” was the second single from the album and was a ubiquitous presence on Top 40 radio all of that memorable summer.

Jesus is Just Alright (1973)

Performer: The Doobie Brothers                          Writers: Arthur Reid Reynolds
Highest US Chart Position: #35                            Label: Warner Brothers
Musicians: Tom Johnston, Patrick Simmons, Tiran Porter, John Hartman and Michael Hossack

While The Doobie Brothers would seem like the last group to be involved in the Jesus Movement, their version of the song “Jesus is Just Alright” not only became an anthem for the movement but wound up cracking the Top Forty pop chart in early 1973. The group had no religious inclinations at all, but had begun performing the tune on the strength of a version recorded by The Byrds that appeared on their album Ballad of Easy Rider in 1969. Roger McGuinn and company had, in turn, begun performing the song after drummer Gene Parsons had heard it recorded by the original artists, The Art Reynolds Singers, in 1966. The Byrds released their version on a single that made it onto the Hot 100 in February of 1970 but then disappeared the following week. The Doobie Brothers’ version was heavily based on that version and is something of an anomaly in their repertoire of the time. For my taste, they were one of the triumvirate, along with The Eagles and America, of what I had labeled country-rock. Of course, they were nothing of the kind, but with Patrick Simmons in the band bringing in the acoustic fingerpicking, that’s where I categorized them. This song, on the other hand, was pure soul, which is ironic considering that is a genre they would become associated with when Michael McDonald joined the group a few years later.

The song begins with a one-beat pickup on the drums before the splash of a cymbal on the downbeat, with John Hartman pounding a straight ahead backbeat on the snare and banging away at the bell of the ride cymbal on every beat. A tambourine doubles the cymbal while Michael Hossack’s congas weave in an out of the beat creating some very intricate patterns by the end of the intro. Then the wordless vocals come in singing the distinctive melody of the song that ends with Tom Johnston and Patrick Simmons’ guitars on one and two of the next two measures. From there the ascending lead guitar, doubled by the Tiran Porter’s bass, takes the group into the chorus. The second time around, the chorus melody has different words and leads back into the wordless vocals of the intro, but this time with guitar hitting and then sliding at the end of each phrase. Then it’s once more around the chorus, but with the organ of Bill Payne punched up in the mix and a final held note that feels like the finale of the number. Instead, the drums come in again, playing half time, with an organ wash in the background and fingerpicked guitar fills by Simmons. Then Simmons launches into a sanctified wail, telling everyone that Jesus is his friend, which leads into his searing guitar solo followed by the organ holding as the Leslie speaker spins everyone into the final chorus.

The signature moment in the song, however, is middle break, something that was not part of the Byrds’ version and wholly an invention of the Doobie Brothers. In an interview with Tom Johnston he says that the idea came from the organist on the session, Bill Payne, former pianist for Little Feat and studio session man in L.A. Besides the horn section, Payne was the only other outside musician to play on the Toulouse Street LP from which the single was pulled as well as the B-side, “Rockin’ Down the Highway.” I don’t remember hearing the song in 1973. My introduction to it came a few years later. I will never forget sitting in a doctor’s office sometime around 1976, flipping through an old copy of The Saturday Evening Post. What made it so unforgettable is that I remember being surprised at the time that the magazine was still being published. Anyway, there was an article in the magazine about Jesus Music and I remember reading with fascination about this song by The Doobie Brothers. I was naturally familiar with all of their huge radio hits but didn’t know this tune and so I immediately went out and bought a copy of The Doobie Brothers Greatest Hits and was enthralled. “Jesus is Just Alright” may have only reached number 35 in the charts in February of 1973 but it is a powerful song by a great band in the prime of their career.

Everyone I Meet is from California (1972)

Performer: America                                              Writer: Dan Peek
Highest US Chart Position: N/A                              Label: Warner Brothers
Musicians: Dan Peek, Gerry Beckley, Dewey Bunnell and Kim Haworth

The group America has some major connections with Great Britain, as the members of the group went to high school in London, recorded their first album there, and they eventually went on to work with Beatles’ producer George Martin. In fact, when The Beatles put out their albums they wanted to give their fans the most for their money and so they didn’t include songs that they had already released on 45. In the same way, neither of the songs on America’s first single originally appeared on their first album, and so the first pressings of their self-titled debut did not contain the single “A Horse with No Name” or the B-side, “Everyone I Meet is from California.” Once the A-side became a hit, however, Warner Brothers quickly slapped the song on all subsequent releases of the album, but the B-side wouldn’t see the light of day until Rhino put out a second greatest hits package entitled Encore: More Greatest Hits. Another version of the song, however, was re-recorded for the group’s follow up album, Homecoming, and for those who were only familiar with this version the B-side of the single is striking by comparison. The earlier version is more energetic, with crisper vocals and even with the acoustic instrumentation it feels much stronger overall.

The song begins with a rhythm pattern being strummed on muted acoustic guitar strings over eight bars. Muted toms on the drums double the rhythm, with percussion and single notes on the electric guitar on the upbeats at the end of every two measures, and the sizzle of a tambourine throughout. Finally, Dan Peek’s bass plays a four-note pickup into the song proper. Acoustic guitars and bass are the central focus of the driving chord progression, propelled by Kim Haworth’s drums. Peek’s lyrics, always nebulous, have yet another oblique reference to Christianity, which would ultimately be the impetus for his leaving the band. The first verse is about heaven and the afterlife, while verse two juxtaposes the sensual pleasures of the California coast with the promise of life after “the world has set you free.” The chorus is sung in three-part harmony in an ascending line over the chords before falling back to the verse. After the second chorus is a nice Dan Peek guitar solo, beginning with some two-string repeated riffs before going free form and finishing with an upper register repeated lick. The harmonies, of course, are wonderful, but it’s the interplay of the bass and the acoustic guitars, along with the congas, that really makes the song.

The most obvious difference between this early B-side and the remake later that year is that Dan Peek decided to electrify the guitars in the reprise. In fact, the song even bears a different title, “California Revisited.” It begins with an acoustic guitar strumming the intro rather than just providing a rhythm, and then something of an awkward bass slide into the opening rather than the more confident bass pickup on the single. The vocals are far more out front in this version, while the buried rhythm section and the soft jangle of the electric guitars simply make the song feel too lightweight in comparison. The one thing that is very good is the electric guitar riff that plays after every line of the first verse. But there's also a third version of the song, recorded many years later by Gerry Beckley and Dewey Bunnell on their Hourglass album from 1994. I've always suspected that Dan Peek played bass on that album because the bass player pictured in the CD booklet looks an awful lot like him, and it was also the first album since his departure where they resumed naming their albums with titles beginning with the letter “H.” In this version the opening chords are played on a twelve-string and Bunnell sings the lead. Otherwise it owes more to the remake than the original B-side. “A Horse with No Name” went to number one in March of 1972 and stayed there for three weeks, but the flip side is equally good. “Everyone I Meet is from California” is a fantastic, forgotten gem in the America songbook.

Pick Up the Pieces (1974)

Performer: Average White Band                           Writers: Hamish Stuart & Roger Ball
Highest US Chart Position: #1                                Label: Atlantic Records
Musicians: Hamish Stuart, Roger Ball, Malcolm Duncan, Alan Gorrie, Robbie McIntosh

One of the interesting things about this tune by the Scottish soul/funk outfit Average White Band is that the single was initially released in the UK in the summer of 1974 and it absolutely tanked, not even making the charts. It wasn’t until their AWB LP was released in the United States that the song began to get traction on radio stations as an album cut. Then Atlantic released “Pick Up the Pieces” as a single toward the end of the year and it took off, shooting to number one in February of 1975. Only then was the single re-released in England and, in the wake of the U.S. success, it managed to climb all the way to number six in the UK charts. This is one of the classic instrumentals of the seventies, along with tunes like “The Horse” by Cliff Nobles or Chicago’s “Mongonucleosis.” But while those tunes eventually fell into relative obscurity, AWB’s horn-driven masterpiece has been high school pep band and jazz band fodder even to the present day. The B-side of the single is the Isley Brothers tune “Work to Do,” an Alan Gorrie vocal, with Hamish Stuart backing, that could very easily have been an A-side of its own.

The tune begins with the rhythm guitar of Hamish Stuart and Alan Gorrie’s bass heavy on the downbeat, with Stuart continuing on upbeats at the end of the measures while the bass holds the whole note. Robbie McIntosh sizzles the tambourine while Roger Ball holds on the organ until the very end of the intro when the Leslie speaker kicks in and quivers right into the verse. From that dense beginning the verse really opens up, with McIntosh’s hi-hats crisp on the upbeat of one in every measure, and the sparse base line allowing the horns to carry the tune. At the end of each horn line there are two full measures with a guitar counter-melody provided by Stuart, which goes twice as long between the verses. The horn line alters the third time around and after the fourth time the chorus returns to the dense background of the intro with sustained chord on the organ and the drums doubling up on the beat while the horns latch onto a repetitive riff that ends with a final held note. At the end of the second chorus the horns continue to hold and that’s when we hear the distinctive background vocals shouting out the title phrase. From there the tune launches directly into the distinctive solo by tenor saxophonist Malcolm Duncan. The last chorus is double the usual length and after more vocals the verse riff snaps to a finish.

I think I played this in just about every permutation of band there was in high school except for the marching band. It was in regular rotation in the pep band at basketball games, and it was also in the book for our jazz band. During graduation festivities we even had enough seniors to put together a senior band and this is the tune we chose to play. But that was thirty years ago, and still the song lives on. A few years ago at my friend’s fiftieth birthday party, her son put together a small group from his high school band and this was also one of the songs they played. At the time it was released James Brown’s band, The J.B.s, apparently felt that Alan Gorrie’s bass line was a little too close to the one they used in “Hot Pants Road,” and so they recorded an answer song a year later called “Pick Up the Pieces One By One.” To rub their noses in the similarity even further, they released the song as being performed by A.A.B.B. for Above Average Black Band. But while the J.B.s might have been the tightest band in the business rhythmically, they don’t hold a candle to the melodic and harmonic inventiveness of Average White Band. “Pick Up the Pieces” was completely deserving of its number one status and will always be one of my favorite instrumentals of all time.

Rhiannon (1976)

Performer: Fleetwood Mac                                   Writer: Stevie Nicks
Highest US Chart Position: #11                            Label: Reprise
Musicians: Stevie Nicks, Lindsey Buckingham, Christine McVie, John McVie and Mick Fleetwood

The group Fleetwood Mac, having been around since the late sixties in London, had fallen on hard times by 1974. Throughout the early seventies they were going through lead guitarists regularly, the only solid members being namesakes Mick Fleetwood on drums and John McVie on bass, with his wife Christine McVie on piano and vocals and Bob Welch on rhythm guitar. But the departure of Welch in 1974 left them in a lurch, with a recording contract and no real songwriter. Then, at a recording studio in L.A., Mick Fleetwood was introduced to Lindsey Buckingham and hired him based on the strength of tracks he had heard from an album he had recently recorded with his girlfriend, Stevie Nicks. When Buckingham said he would only join if Nicks could join the group too, Fleetwood agreed. It turned out to be the defining moment in the group’s history, taking them from being a moderately successful blues band to seventies pop superstars. “Rhiannon” is a Stevie Nicks tune from their first album together and became one of the great hits of 1976, entering the charts in March and going to number eleven three months later in June.

The song begins with Lindsey Buckingham alone, doubling himself on guitar. The second time around the rhythm pattern he is joined by John McVie on bass, Mick Fleetwood on drums, and Christine McVie on the electric piano. Nicks’ ethereal vocals emerges the next time around on the verse. Ostensibly singing about a witch, the lyrics tell more of a surrealistic love story, with the elusive Rhiannon making promises she can’t keep and flying into the sky like a bird. The end of the first verse goes right into the beginning of the second. John McVie’s bass provides a solid foundation for the undulating chord progression comprised of Christine McVie’s piano and Buckingham’s punctuating rhythm guitar. At the end of the second verse, however, Buckingham’s solo guitar leads into the spectacular harmonization of the title, stated three times in succession but held out for two measures each with the guitar weaving in between each. And that’s all there is to the chorus. While the magical blending of the voices of Nicks and Buckingham on their solo album was startling, the addition of Christine McVie’s third part on the bottom is electrifying. Mick Fleetwood claimed it was on the rehearsals for this song that he knew he had made the right decision.

After the chorus the band stops for Buckingham’s dual guitars and then continues into the third verse and another phenomenal chorus. The last section of the song, which I hesitate to call a bridge because it merely leads to the solo and the final fadeout, is simply a couple of repeated lines by Nicks with lead guitar working in around them. The overall effect of the song, with its minor chords and transcendent harmonies, is what really catapulted the group onto the charts and into the national consciousness. The first single off of Fleetwood Mac, Christine McVie’s “Over My Head,” is solid, and even though it was only able to reach number twenty it was still the only song by the group to ever reach the top forty. In that respect it was also a harbinger of things to come as the group’s follow up album, Rumours, would go on to become one of the biggest selling albums of the entire decade. For me, though, the song that really started it all was “Rhiannon.” The B-side is a straight ahead rhythm and organ tune by Christine McVie called “Sugar Daddy,” but it’s the A-side of the single that will always remain one of my most vivid aural memories of that tremendous musical summer of 1976.

Dance the Night Away (1979)

Performer: Van Halen                                           Writers: Van Halen
Highest US Chart Position: #15                            Label: Warner Brothers
Musicians: Eddie Van Halen, David Lee Roth, Michael Anthony and Alex Van Halen

Unlike most new acts who suffer a sophomore slump after their debut, Van Halen II was possibly even more listener friendly than the group’s first album. This was no doubt due to the fact that the majority of the songs on the album had been standard repertoire in the group for several years. The only misstep was probably the ill-advised “Spanish Fly,” an attempt to do on an acoustic guitar what Eddie Van Halen had done in “Eruption” the year before but with minimal aphrodisiac qualities. “Dance the Night Away” was their biggest hit to date, after their remake of The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me” only managed to climb to number thirty-six in the charts the year before. As with all of the songs the group composed, it bore the names of all four members of the band, a rare occurrence in pop music that acknowledged the contribution of the entire group for the success of the music by sharing songwriting royalties evenly. After their first world tour in support of the debut album, Van Halen, the group decided to go immediately into the studio. For one thing, they already had enough songs prepared to record, and for another they felt that their chops would still be at peak levels, which they wouldn’t be after a rest.

The song begins with Alex Van Halen beating out a rhythm on the cowbell, and alternating with the hi-hats. Then Eddie Van Halen comes in on guitar with a similar rhythm. This is followed by a drum fill and then Michael Anthony’s bass filling in the bottom with a more regular rhythm. The lyrics by David Lee Roth barely tell a story at all, a young woman across the room at a club that he falls in love with and who wants nothing more than to dance the night away. Eddie was apparently interested in experimenting with keyboards at this point in the band’s evolution, but even without them he manages to get the same effect out of his guitar on the chorus with a clean countermelody that lifts it out of the realm of just another rock song. After the second chorus is a short bridge with wordless vocals by Roth, and then another radio-friendly element in a harmonic tapping solo by Eddie instead of a traditional full volume guitar solo. The backing on this section drops way down, with Alex on the high toms and no bass at all. Then everything rushes back in again like a wave against the shore with the entire band, including dense background vocals and Roth’s trademark screams, taking the song for nearly a full minute into the fadeout.

It’s a rather lightweight number for the group--ensuring lots of radio airplay--and reportedly inspired by one of Fleetwood Mac’s heavier tunes, “Go Your Own Way.” But there was always an infectious quality to Van Halen’s music right from the start, even on the heavier numbers, and I attribute that to the background vocals by Eddie and Michael. In the first place, they sound absolutely terrific, high and tight and perfectly on pitch. Secondly, they are true background vocals. They don’t harmonize with David Lee Roth, but instead provide a call and response style of answering chorus that is utterly unique the in hard rock of that day or any day. Another aspect of the band’s sound that was unique for the time is the heavy reverb on the tracks that made them sound like they were recording in a giant arena instead of a tiny studio in Hollywood. Roth actually wanted the chorus to be “Dance, Lolita, dance,” but fortunately wiser heads prevailed. The song peaked at number fifteen in July of 1979, with the uptempo and rather unmelodic "Outta Love Again" on the B-side. While “Dance the Night Away” might not seem like a true representation of the band’s music from the point of view of hard rock fans who quickly took to them in 1978, I would argue that, in terms of the David Lee Roth years, it’s actually quintessential Van Halen.

Shaft (1971)

Performer: Isaac Hayes                                        Writer: Isaac Hayes
Album US Chart Position: #1                                Label: Stax Records
Musicians: Isaac Hayes, Lester Snell, Charles Pitts, James Alexander and Willie Hall

I didn’t actually get around to purchasing Isaac Hayes’ masterpiece, the soundtrack to Shaft, until twenty-five years after it was first released. Which is not to say I wasn’t aware of it all through the seventies. A person would have had to be in a coma not to. We played the title number in the high school band, and I also had brilliant arrangement of the song performed by Maynard Ferguson’s big band on his M.F. Horn II album. Thinking back, it probably had to do with the culture where I grew up. While I was raised on Barry White and The O’Jays, The Commodores and Earth, Wind and Fire, I was completely unconscious of sixties soul and the artists who made it, even if they continued to work into the seventies. Like the young girl in Steely Dan’s “Hey Nineteen,” I didn’t know that Aretha Franklin was the queen of soul until The Blues Brothers movie. And as corny as John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd might have seemed, they were directly responsible for leading me back to the music of Sam and Dave, Wilson Pickett, Ike and Tina Turner, and the mother lode of all sixties soul music, Stax Records. Even then, however, I never got around to picking up Isaac Hayes’ first soundtrack album until much later. It’s not hyperbole to say that it was a life-changing experience.

Director Gordon Parks hired Isaac Hayes to write some music for his film and, while still in production, Hayes wrote “Soulsville,” the only full vocal performance on the soundtrack when Richard Roundtree as Shaft is walking through Harlem, “Ellie’s Love Theme,” a jazz-influenced tune that features the vibraphone, and the title track, “Theme from Shaft.” Impressed, Parks gave him the go ahead to score the entire film, which he did, in Los Angeles with the Bar-Kays rhythm section and members of his own band to back him up. And the music is exceptional. There are pithy little numbers, like “Shaft’s Cab Ride,” suspenseful cues like “Walk from Regio’s,” as well as beautifully soulful tunes like “Early Sunday Morning.” But the two most memorable tracks after the title song have to be the vibrant “Be Yourself,” with its aggressive sax solo by Harvey Henderson, and the nearly twenty minute tour de force, “Do Your Thing.” It starts out on a medium groove with a brief vocal by Hayes, and then gradually increases in tempo and intensity until the thing is practically rattling the speakers. Finally, the tape lurches forward until a record needle scratches the song to a jolting conclusion. But Hayes isn’t done, and wisely reprises the opening track without the vocals to bring the album to a satisfying close.

Not only did the album rocket to the number one slot on the charts in the summer of 1971, but it stayed on the album charts for over a year. In addition, the album won a number of Grammys as well as an Oscar for the title song, all of which were well deserved. But while I had loved the album, I had still never seen the film, and nothing prepared me for the shock when I watched it for the first time and realized that none of the music from the album was in the film. Oh, the songs were the same, but it turns out that they were hastily put together for the actual soundtrack in L.A. When the job was finished, however, Hayes and the rest of his musicians went back home to Memphis and he decided to record the music all over again, this time with the intention of making a great album. And he did exactly that. By comparison, the original soundtrack has been released recently and it contains some fascinating insights into the origins of the songs, as well as music that wasn’t used in the film. But the thing that stands out the most is how incredible the recording facilities were in Memphis at the Stax studio. There’s a depth and richness utterly lacking in the L.A. studio recordings, and so it makes sense that practically everything recorded at Stax was terrific. Isaac Hayes’ soundtrack to Shaft remains one of the all time great albums of the seventies and is every bit as powerful today as it was the day it was released.

Strawberry Letter 23 (1977)

Performer: The Brothers Johnson                          Writer: Shuggie Otis
Highest US Chart Position: #5                               Label: A&M Records
Musicians: George & Louis Johnson, Lee Ritenour, Dave Grusin and Harvey Mason

This song is vividly etched in my mind because it was a favorite of my high school sweetheart. At her house they had one of those giant console stereos that sat in the living room and she and her sisters used to play the 45s on it all the time, this one getting heavy rotation at the time. The core of The Brothers Johnson consisted of George on guitar and vocals and his brother Louis on bass and vocals. They had initially formed a band with their cousin in Los Angeles but eventually worked as a backing band for various performers like Bobby Womack, The Supremes and Billy Preston. It was while working with Quincy Jones, however, that they really began to demonstrate their talents as performers in their own right, and he was impressed enough that he produced their first album in 1976. That album spawned their biggest hit, “I’ll Be Good to You,” which went all the way to number three in the charts. But was their follow up album, Right on Time, also produced by Jones, that contained the song they are best known for, “Strawberry Letter 23.” The single was paired with “Dancin’ and Prancin’” on the B-side, a straight-up funk number pulled from their first album.

The genesis of the tune is a fascinating one. It was actually written by guitar great Shuggie Otis, son of the rhythm and blues bandleader Johnny Otis. He had recorded the number for his 1971 album Freedom Fight, and it probably would have been destined for obscurity had George Johnson not come across the album while dating one of Otis’s cousins. He liked the song and, while staying true to the melody and lyrics, the brothers brought the rhythm and musical backing up to date and turned it into a dance/soul number that shot up the charts peaking at number five on September 24, 1977. Attempts at interpreting the lyrics are as nonsensical as the lyrics themselves. It’s a love song, sure, but the words are merely a poetic exercise in synesthesia, beginning with the narrator hearing a kiss, as well as experiencing a variety of colors in physical ways. Like John Lennon’s “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” the meaning is beside the point, and in that sense the lyrics are terrific. The oft-mentioned explanation for the title, that Otis received love letters from his girlfriend on strawberry scented stationary, has been flatly denied by him as well. It’s simply another use of synesthesia, with the letter being given the sensuous characteristics of the fruit itself.

The song begins with Dave Grusin’s piano and the George Johnson’s guitar on the downbeat, a dotted half note note followed by a quarter note and two half notes while Ian Underwood plays the distinctive chorus melody on the keyboards. Then the song settles into a medium groove with Louis Johnson’s bass line being supported by pizzicato guitar effects, and ending with Louis’s walk up into the verse. The walk up, this time by the rest of the band, is repeated at the end of each line of the verse and supplemented by Ralph MacDonald’s percussion. The vocals are terrific, with a soft, breathy delivery that perfectly reflects the dream-like imagery of the lyrics and is supported by a chorus of background singers. The bridge section eases back the instruments to minimal support, but then slowly builds into the next verse. The second bridge ends in a series of background vocals that lead to the memorable guitar break, with Lee Ritenour and George Johnson playing a harmony pattern than shifts along with the chord progression, and accompanied by Harvey Mason’s intricate high-hat work. This leads to sort of a half-verse at the end and then the fadeout. “Strawberry Letter 23” is simply a great example of non-disco, seventies soul at the height of the disco era.

It Never Rains in California (1972)

Performer: Albert Hammond                                  Writers: Albert Hammond & Mike Hazelwood
Highest US Chart Position: #5                               Label: Columbia Records (Mums)
Musicians: Albert Hammond, Larry Carlton, Michael Omartian, Joe Osborn and Hal Blaine

This is one of those songs that emerged from the mists of time to lodge in my memory, and it still stirs my emotions. Since this was still a year before I really became conscious of popular music on the radio, my primary associations with the song come from television. In those days they used to sell all kinds of hits packages on LP produced by companies like K-Tel. As the titles and performers of the songs scrolled up the screen snippets of the song would play, and the chorus of this one was an absolute hook for my psyche. I was in fifth grade at the time the song was released, but I didn’t get a copy of it until a year and half later when I purchased The Now Explosion at the local department store. I came close to wearing out the grooves on that album and this song was one of the reasons why. The actual title of the song is “It Never Rains in Southern California,” though the “Southern” is only mentioned a couple of times in the lyrics--which always bothered me. Sure, it does rain in Northern California, but if we’re smart enough to figure that out without much of a distinction in the lyrics, it’s a good bet we’ll be able to do without it in the title.

Albert Hammond was a British singer-songwriter who grew up in Gibraltar and played primarily in Spain when he first began performing. In the mid sixties he moved back to England and met Mike Hazelwood when they formed the band The Family Dogg and the two became longtime collaborators. Hammond and Hazelwood went to Los Angeles in 1971 and recorded an album of their songs, It Never Rains in Southern California, for the Columbia subsidiary Mums Records. While this song was his biggest hit as an artist, the team also wrote another top ten hit in “The Air That I Breathe.” After the song appeared on Hammond’s album it was given to Phil Everly for his 1973 solo album, but is most well known from the version recorded by the Hollies which went to number six in 1974. While Hammond’s album only made it to number 77 in the album charts, the single, with “Anyone Here in the Audience” on the B-side, went all the way to number five on the sixteenth of December in 1972. The lyrics of the song mirror Hammond’s struggles to become a performer in Spain, begging for money in train stations, and too embarrassed to tell his parents because they would naturally have wanted him to quit.

Veteran studio drummer Hal Blain kicks off the tune on the upbeat of three and the downbeat of four, while arranger Michael Omartian’s piano flourish on the and of four leads into the downbeat jangle of Hammond’s guitar. Overdubbed flutes, an octave apart, play the intro melody and Hammond begins his lyric by hopping a plane to L.A. without a thought, lured by the promise of stardom. The harmonies on the chorus sound doubled by Hammond, and the whole thing is backed by an interesting arrangement of strings throughout. The bridge is a nifty example of wordplay, but the chorus is what really catches the ear. In a twist on the Morton Salt slogan, it never rains in California, but when it pours, man, it pours. After a third verse that begs not to tell the folks back home of his failure, the song ends on a final chorus and then fades out on the flute intro. The theme of the song’s lyrics is well-trodden territory, echoed in everything from Jim Croce’s “Box Number Ten,” which is set in New York City, to “Hollywood Heckle and Jive” by England Dan and John Ford Coley. “It Never Rains in Southern California” is a wonderful example of early seventies studio recording and clever songwriting, and still one of my favorite songs.