Operator (1972)

Performer: Jim Croce                                            Writer: Jim Croce
Highest US Chart Position: #17                            Label: ABC/Dunhill Records
Musicians: Jim Croce, Maury Muehleisen, Tommy West, Joe Macho & Gary Chester

Though this song technically peaked in early December of 1972, for me Jim Croce’s “Operator (That’s Not The Way It Feels)” will always be associated with the summer of 1973, as it was still in heavy rotation then on my local radio station. Croce was just beginning to become a presence on the charts at this point in his career--this song was only his second single--but when “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” went to number one in the summer of ’73 he was poised to become a major force in pop music. His unexpected death in a plane crash in September of 1973, one that also took the life of his lead guitarist Maury Muehleisen, ended what could have been a lengthy career in the vein of someone like James Taylor. For the next year his songs inundated the airwaves and earned him a posthumous number one with “Time in a Bottle” just two months after his death. But it’s his song “Operator” that has the most powerful associations for me. The following summer my parents hired a babysitter to watch me and my brother and sisters while they were at work, as we were all still in grade school. But instead of staying home she used to pile us into her car and drive over to her boyfriend’s house, and we had to sit outside the house listening to the radio while she was inside having sex. Though the song had fallen off the charts six months earlier, I distinctly remember hearing it regularly that summer on her car radio.

The song begins on the downbeat with Croce’s distinctive finger picking and Maury Muehleisen playing the melodic, multi-string lead riff on their acoustic guitars, both playing harmonized descending phrases into the turnaround and then into the first verse. It’s a nice interplay, and Muehleisen adds similar multi-string material between the lines of the first verse, the narrator at a pay phone asking the operator to place a call for him. The minor key is perfect for the haunting story, as Croce’s character tells the operator the story of his ex-girlfriend who left him for his ex-best friend and moved to L.A. Halfway through the verse, Joe Macho on bass doubles the descending run on the turnaround and by the time the second verse turns into an extended chorus Tommy West and Gary Chester have also joined the group on piano and drums respectively. The chorus ends with the subtitle of the song, “But that’s not the way it feels,” while the word “Operator” is only sung at the beginning of each verse. Since that’s the most distinctive word in the lyrics, however, it was a wise choice to use that for the title. The second time through the introduction the whole band plays, and on the second verse Croce’s character has trouble dialing the number through his tears. The second time through the chorus Croce is joined by Muehleisen and producer Terry Cashman on harmony vocals, and it extends on a short vamp for a few bars before the last verse and chorus when the caller gives up and tells the operator she can “keep the dime.” A final turn through the introduction ends the song.

The song is brilliantly conceived, from Croce’s tragic lyrics to the propulsive beat that belies the heartbreaking story. The arc of his lyrics are remarkable, from the initial confidence of the man who wants to call his former lover in order to let her know how well he’s doing, to the tears that cloud his eyes as he tries to dial, to the final confession that her leaving has actually devastated him. But the thing that elevates the production to something extraordinary is Maury Muehleisen’s lead work and the way that it is woven in and around the entire song. Discounting a self-produced LP that he and his wife made of folk songs in the mid sixties, the song came from Croce’s first LP, You Don’t Mess Around With Jim. The title track had been released in June the previous summer, and the follow up in late August. It entered the Hot 100 in mid October at number 78. Three weeks later it entered the top 40, and a month after that peaked at number 17 on December 9th, staying on the charts for another three weeks and finally dropping off just before the end of the year. On the B-side of the single is “Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy),” an up tempo number about a lovable roguish driver in the musical mold of “Workin’ At The Car Wash Blues.” Jim Croce’s “Operator” is one of the most beautiful and heart-wrenching songs of the decade and easily in my top five songs of all time.

How Deep Is Your Love (1977)

Performer: The Bee Gees                                   Writer: The Bee Gees
Highest US Chart Position: #1                             Label: RSO
Musicians: Barry Gibb, Alan Kendall, Blue Weaver, Maurice Gibb and Dennis Bryon

The incongruity of the song “How Deep Is Your Love” with the film it came from is almost too bizarre to consider. Saturday Night Fever is a terrible movie, especially in its treatment of women. I hate misogynist films and this is one of the worse. The disconnect between the two comes from the fact that the Bee Gees didn’t write their songs for the soundtrack. They had been working on recording a follow-up album to the highly successful Children of the World when their manager, Robert Stigwood, asked if they could give him some songs for a film he was producing and Barry Gibb selflessly gave him what they had done so far. Of course the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever was one of the biggest selling albums of all time, simultaneously making the Bee Gees superstars and engendering hatred in the hearts of millions for their unrivaled success. But if there was a Beatles of the seventies, it was the Bee Gees. Like the album as a whole, the single was massive, going to number one on the Billboard charts in the fall of 1977 and staying on the Hot 100 for thirty-three weeks, almost until the summer of 1978, the longest running single ever on the charts. Initially, it seems a remarkable achievement . . . until you hear the song. I can remember vividly driving to school one morning that fall while it was still dark, to play in the jazz band before regular classes, and instead just sitting there listening, unable to turn off the car radio because I was so captivated by its perfection.

The song begins on the downbeat with the full band, the electric piano of Blue Weaver prominent and the underpinning of the whole sound. The brothers hit on a harmony “ah” at the end of the second measure and hold it for four measures, descending on the fifth, and then on into the lead vocal by Barry. While Dennis Bryon plays a rim click on two and four on the snare along with the piano and Maurice on bass, Alan Kendall does a nice job of hitting the second beat of every measure on guitar. The chorus is a beautiful blend of vocal harmonies and octaves, layered background lyrics supported by strings. What’s so interesting is that the title line of the song actually comes at the end of the verse, then the background vocals repeat it underneath and suddenly take over the lead to sing the chorus. In the second verse Weaver improvises a little more under Barry’s vocal and then halfway through strings are laid in and they continue on into and throughout the second chorus. In lieu of a bridge, the brothers sing “la-la” instead of words to the melody of the first half of the third verse while the strings soar. Then Barry comes in again to finish the second half of the third verse, all the while the volume and density of the music continues to build the further the song goes on. He ad libs a bit on the opening of the next chorus, and then the brothers “la-la” again, but instead of another verse it simply links to the final chorus with Barry sustaining a falsetto note at the beginning, and the strings play a counter-melody. A final out chorus fades to the end of the song.

While Barry’s vocal sounds double-tracked on the verses, he is actually singing in unison with Maurice. And their use of multi-tracking on all of the vocals is probably as good as anything they ever did. The lyrics make it one of the classic love songs of the seventies, which still astounds me because of how the sentiments actually express the very opposite of what they were meant to support on the screen. The popularity of the song wasn’t just confined to the charts either, as it went on to win a Grammy Award for best pop performance by a group in 1977. The song entered the Hot 100 at the end of September and held the top spot for three weeks at the end of December and beginning of January, but didn’t drop off the charts until early May. The B-side of the single, “Can’t Keep a Good Man Down” was taken from their previous live album, a disco tune similar to “Night Fever,” though not nearly as catchy. Since the Bee Gees only had four new tunes on the soundtrack album, it makes sense that they would reach back to promote their previous album on the flip sides. The song was on the charts for nearly the entire time I was a sophomore in high school, and it remains unforgettable. I didn’t buy many albums back then, but this was definitely one of the singles that I had in my collection and it was in heavy rotation all throughout my high school years. What’s interesting is that I had no idea it was on the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack until decades later. To my ears it sounded like something that belonged in another realm of songwriting and performing. If I had to name my favorite song of the entire decade, I would be hard pressed not to choose “How Deep Is Your Love.”