Hungry for those sweet things, baby

Posted on by brucehhackett

What are the things we need most in life? Water, food, shelter and companionship.

If you go searching for songs about these things, you’ll find thousands of songs about the latter (love, romance, close relationships) and quite a few about shelter (house and home). And I’ve put multiple playlists together about water (including rain, rivers and lakes). That leaves food.

How interesting that songwriters, for the most part, have mostly neglected using food as subject matter for song lyrics, and when they’ve mentioned the names of edibles, it’s usually as a term of endearment (“Honey Pie”), a location (“Blueberry Hill”), a color (“Raspberry Beret”) or a stage name or nickname (“Lady Marmalade”). Rarely are the lyrics about actual food items.

But I found a few, and, um, beefed up the list with a few classics and a couple deep tracks that use food metaphorically. All told, I’ve collected 20 songs that mention food in the title, with back stories about each tune, plus another ten honorable mentions. There’s a Spotify playlist at the end that includes them all..

I hope this one whets your appetite…

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“Apples Peaches Pumpkin Pie,” Jay & The Techniques, 1967

Songwriter Maurice Irby Jr. came up with this catchy tune in which the title has nothing to do with the food items mentioned.  “I was working on lyrics while sitting in a diner, and I saw ‘Apple, peach, pumpkin pie’ listed as dessert choices on the menu,” he recalled.  “I thought the phrase rolled off the tongue so nice.  I just made ’em plural and used it as the title.”  The recording of it by Jay and The Techniques zoomed to #6 in the summer of 1967:  “Apples peaches pumpkin pie, you were young and so was I, now that we’ve grown up, it seems you just keep ignoring me, I’ll find you anywhere you go, I’ll follow you high and low, you can’t escape this love of mine anytime…”

“Do Fries Go With That Shake?” George Clinton, 1986

In the ’60s, Clinton formed a doo-wop group, The Parliaments, that also dabbled in soul, notably the 1967 hit single “(I Wanna) Testify.” He established the P-Funk Collective, using two different groups (Parliament and Funkadelic) to explore different sounds, technology and lyrics, both hugely popular among Black music lovers in the ’70s. He went solo in the ’80s, and on his 1986 LP “R&B Skeletons in the Closet,” he had a Top 30 hit on R&B charts that suggestively asked about an energetic fly-girl dancer, “Do Fries Go With That Shake?” An accompanying music video wildly parodied “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” with an all-Black cast in a surreal dream sequence.

“Ice Cream,” Sarah McLachlan, 1993

Singer-songwriter McLachlan is one of Canada’s most successful musical exports, selling 40 million albums worldwide and winning multiple Juno awards and Grammys over her 35-year career. She spearheaded the popular Lilith Fair festivals, which showcased all-female lineups. Between 1997 and 2014, McLachlan charted four consecutive albums in the Top Five on US album charts, notably 1997’s “Surfacing” with its three hits, “Building a Mystery,” “Adia” and “Angel.” Prior to that, her LP “Fumbling Toward Ecstasy” in 1993 was her breakthrough and included the understated track “Ice Cream,” in which she tells her man, “Your love is better than ice cream, better than anything else that I’ve tried…”

“Gravy (For My Mashed Potatoes),” Dee Dee Sharp, 1962

In 1962, R&B singer Sharp was a sensation with five Top Ten singles, two of which capitalized on the popular Twist-like dance move known as the Mashed Potato, where dancers would grind their feet into the dance floor as if mashing potatoes.  In the lyrics to “Gravy,” Sharp says she needs more than just dancing, she needs romancing as well:  “I dig this twistin’ but I want some more, there’s somethin’ missin’ while we’re on the floor, come on baby, I want some gravy, a little kissing’s what I’m waiting for, gimme gravy on my mashed potatoes…”

“Beans and Corn Bread,” Louis Jordan, 1949

Jordan and his jump-blues band The Tympany Five were hugely popular in the juke joints in the 1940s as well as at some of the tonier clubs in bigger cities when they could get gigs there.  Many of the early rock and roll pioneers credit Jordan for writing songs that inspired them to compose their own brand of irresistible dance music.  This one used food pairings to emphasize the need for couples to stick together:  “Beans and corn bread, hand-in-hand, that’s what beans said to corn bread, ‘We should stick together, hand in hand, we should hang out together like wieners and sauerkraut, we should stick together like hot dogs and mustard…’”

“Sweet Potato Pie,” James Taylor, 1988

North Carolina-born Taylor no doubt ate his share of sweet potato pie in his youth.  For his high-spirited song by that name from his 1988 album “Never Die Young,” Taylor sings about a girl the narrator knew years earlier who ends up as his delectable ladyfriend decades later:   “I’m glad I had to wait awhile, a little bit too juvenile, /I needed to refine my style, a silk suit and a crocodile smile, /So let the whole damn world go by, ’cause I just want to testify, /From now on, it’s me and my sweet potato pie…” Taylor re-recorded the song in a collaboration with Ray Charles on “Genius Loves Company,” a 2004 album of duets Charles recorded with a dozen other artists and released just after his death that year.

“Cheeseburger in Paradise,” Jimmy Buffett, 1978

Buffett’s famous tune, which appears on his “Son of a Son of a Sailor” album in 1978, became the name of his lucrative restaurant chain as well. Its lyrics speak of how it’s no fun dieting and eating healthy foods all the time, not when what he really wants is the good old-fashioned American favorite, which he describes in delicious detail:  “I like mine with lettuce and tomato, Heinz 57 and French fried potatoes, big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer, well, good god almighty, which way do I steer for my cheeseburger in paradise?…”

“Jambalaya (On the Bayou),” Hank Williams, 1952

Jambalaya is a spicy, Louisiana-based dish of sausage, crawfish vegetable and rice, and Williams’ song honoring its savory flavor was written to be delivered as a Cajun two-step tune.  He chose to dilute it somewhat to make it more palatable to a mass market, which was the right move — it held the #1 spot on the country charts for 13 weeks in 1952, and crooner Jo Stafford’s cover peaked at #3 on the pop charts that same year.  Other major artists covering the song in the years since include Fats Domino, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, John Fogerty, The Carpenters, Emmylou Harris and Van Morrison:  “Jambalaya, crawfish pie and fillet gumbo, for tonight I’m gonna see my cher ami-o, pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o, son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou…”

“30,000 Pounds of Bananas,” Harry Chapin, 1974

This semi-comical story-song by Harry Chapin is actually based on a true story about a tragic accident that happen in Scranton, Pennsylvania, in 1965. A truck driver carrying a load of produce from New Jersey to the Pennsylvania town found that his brakes failed just as he came upon a steep downhill roadway leading into the city. He crashed his rig into a house and died, injuring another 15 onlookers. Despite the bleak result, Chapin found it morbidly amusing when he heard about it from an old-timer on a Greyhound bus ride out of Scranton years later. The song, which has fictionalized elements, appeared on his 1974 LP “Verities and Balderdash” and became a cult favorite among his fans at concerts. Chapin sang it at an increasingly fast tempo to mirror the speeding vehicle in the tale: “You know, the man who told me about it on the bus, /He shrugged his shoulders, he shook his head, 
and he said, ‘Boy, that sure must’ve been something, /Just imagine thirty thousand pounds of bananas, /Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of mashed bananas…”

“Savoy Truffle,” The Beatles, 1968

George Harrison was starting to come into his own as a songwriter when The Beatles were assembling material for the 30-song doubler LP known as “The White Album.” He was allotted four tunes for this collection, and although “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” deservedly got the most attention, this song about sugary desserts holds up quite well a half-century later. It was written to tease his friend Eric Clapton, who had such an addiction to sweets that it caused him plenty of trips to the dentist to have teeth pulled.  Harrison’s lyrics mention several yummy European candy specialties that, while tasty, ultimately made his friend’s life miserable:  “Creme tangerine and montelimar, a ginger sling with a pineapple heart, a coffee dessert, yes, you know it’s good news, but you’ll have to have them all pulled out after the Savoy truffle…”

“Bread and Butter,” The Newbeats, 1964

Written by Larry Parks and Jay Turnbow, this sassy mid-’60s hit for The Newbeats reached #2 on US pop charts, even amidst the Beatlemania craze then gripping the music world. The Newbeats were a vocal trio out of Georgia and Louisiana consisting of brothers Dean and Mark Mathis and friend Larry Henley, and while they only charted twice — the other being “Run, Baby, Run (Back Into My Arms) in 1965 — they had a second life in England in the ’70s when the “Northern Soul” phenomenon occurred there, rejuvenating deep soul tracks and exposing them to a whole new audience. “Bread and Butter” playfully used food items to describe what a young woman prepared for her man: “Well, she don’t cook mashed potatoes, she don’t cook T-bone steaks, /She don’t feed me peanut butter, she knows that I can’t take, /He likes bread and butter, he likes toast and jam, /That’s what his baby feeds him, he’s her loving man…”

“Coconut,” Harry Nilsson, 1972

This was essentially a novelty tune that made it all the way to #6 in the summer/fall of 1972.  Nilsson was a highly regarded songwriter who curiously had his biggest chart successes interpreting other people’s songs (Fred Neil’s “Everybody’s Talkin’,” “Badfinger’s “Without You”). He wrote “One,” Three Dog Night’s first big hit, and “Me and My Arrow,” “Cuddly Toy” and “Jump Into the Fire.” He claims he was just joking around when he recorded “Coconut” as a doctor’s whimsical remedy for a hangover, combining coconut and lime in a big glass:  “You put the lime in the coconut, you drink ’em both together, put the lime in the coconut, then you feel better, put the lime in the coconut, drink ’em both up, put the lime in the coconut, and call me in the morning…”

“Banana Pancakes,” Jack Johnson, 2005

The hedonistic life of surfer Jack Johnson comes through in much of his music, which encourages enjoying life’s pleasures, laying around in a hammock, on the beach, or in bed.  In the tune “Banana Pancakes” from his 2005 LP “In Between Dreams,” Johnson urges his girlfriend to remain in the sack on a cool, cloudy weekday while he makes her a plate of her favorite breakfast:  “Baby, you hardly even notice when I try to show you, this song is meant to keep ya from doing what you’re supposed to, /Waking up too early, maybe we can sleep in, make you banana pancakes, pretend like it’s the weekend now…”

“Eggplant,” Michael Franks, 1976

A talented singer-songwriter of smooth jazz and pop, Franks is a Southern California native who has worked with many artists and had his songs covered by many others. On his delightful 1976 major label debut, “The Art of Tea,” he was ably accompanied by Larry Carlton, Joe Sample and Wilton Felder of The Crusaders, scoring the minor hit “Popsicle Toes,” which might have made this list if not for the even more appropriate “Eggplant.” In the lyrics, the narrator explains how his girlfriend is a wizard in the kitchen who “cooks her eggplant 19 different ways”: “The lady sticks to me like white on rice, she never cooks the same way twice, /Maybe it’s the mushrooms, maybe the tomatoes, /I can’t reveal her name, but eggplant is her game…”

“Polk Salad Annie,” Tony Joe White, 1969

Pokeweed grows wild in the woods down South, and White recalled often eating cooked dishes made of it “when there wasn’t much else in the fridge.”  Sallet is an old English word that means “cooked greens,” not to be mistaken for “salad,” but in fact, White’s record company did just that when they changed his song from “Poke Sallet Annie” to “Polk Salad Annie.”  It reached #8 in 1969:  “Down there we have a plant that grows out in the woods and in the fields, looks somethin’ like a turnip green, and everybody calls it poke sallet, poke sallet, used to know a girl lived down there, and she’d go out in the evenings and pick her a mess of it, carry it home and cook it for supper..”

“Burgers and Fries,” Charley Pride, 1978

Starting out as a pretty decent baseball player in the Negro Leagues in the 1940s and 1950s, Pride was also blessed with a fine singing voice, and he was particularly fond of country music, despite it being embraced by mostly white audiences. In 1967, he became one of the only Black artists to perform last the Grand Old Opry in Nashville, and began a remarkably career with more than two dozen hits on US you ntery charts throughout the ’70s. One of those was the title track to his 1978 LP, “Burgers and Fries,” which equated the meat-and-potatoes combo to fond childhood memories: “Well I’m still the same old me, that’s all I’ll ever be, /I’d like to think that you’re the same old you, /We lost something down the line that I wish we both could find, /Lord, I’d like to do the things that we used to do, /When it was burgers and fries and cherry pies, it was simple and good back then…”

“You’re My Meat,” Joe Jackson, 1981

One of Louis Jordan’s devotees decades after the jump blues period had passed was British rocker Joe Jackson, the classically trained pianist and composer of hits like “Steppin’ Out” and “Breaking Us in Two.” He devoted his 1981 LP “Jumpin’ Jive” to Jordan’s music, which featured shouted, highly syncopated vocals and earthy, comedic lyrics. Included between tracks like “Jack, You’re Dead” and “How Long Must I Wait For You” was “You’re My Meat,” a bawdy tune which lovingly described a heavy-set woman in terms of food: “Outside in and inside out, you’re my meat, fat and forty, but lordy, you’re my meat, /From your feet to your head, you knock me dead, you’re my meat, I got you covered, but baby, you’re my meat…”

“Butterbean,” The B-52s, 1983

Hailing from the college town of Athens, Georgia, was the quirky punk/New Wave band known as The B-52s, known especially for their dance club classics, 1989’s “Love Shack” and 1992’s “Good Stuff.”  Early on, songs like “Rock Lobster” and “Private Idaho” put them on the map, with Kate Pierson’s warbling vocals that reminded John Lennon of his wife Yoko Ono’s singular voice and motivated him to return to recording in 1980. On The B-52s’ third LP, 1983’s “Whammy!”, songs like “Butterbean” were more the order of the day, celebrating the traditional Southern snack favorite:  “Gramps and grannies, kids in their teens, junkyard dogs and campus queens, yeah, everybody likes butterbeans… Pass me a plateful, I’ll be grateful, 1-2-3-4, pick ’em, hull ’em, put on the steam, that’s how we fix butterbeans…”

“RC Cola and a Moon Pie,” NRBQ, 1972

NRBQ (New Rhythm & Blues Quartet) was a Kentucky-based band founded in 1966 that merged rock, pop, jazz, blues and Tin Pan Alley styles, playing mostly small clubs but occasionally opening for bigger bands like Poco or R.E.M.  A concert favorite was “RC Cola and a Moon Pie,” an old Bill Lister tune from the Fifties about Royal Crown Cola (a regional competitor of Coke and Pepsi) and a Moon Pie (essentially a s’more — two graham crackers with marshmallow in between, covered in chocolate).  It was known as “a working man’s lunch” throughout the South:  “I don’t want no cornbread, and I can do without peas and rice, I don’t want no carrots or no real hot pizza slice, but everything’s gonna be all right with an RC Cola and a moon pie…”

“Hungarian Goulash No. 5,” Allan Sherman, 1963

When I was young, I was a fan of comedian Allan Sherman and his song parodies, which were a kind of precursor to what Weird Al Yankovic did in the 1980s. Sherman’s 1963 LP “My Son, The Nut,” which included the well-known summer-camp comedy anthem “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah,” was full of clever lyrics written to go with traditional musical numbers like “C’est Si Bon,” “Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue” and “You Came a Long Way From St. Louis.” The music from Brahms’ “Hungarian Dance No. 5,” written in 1869, was turned into an international smorgasbord called “Hungarian Goulash,” listing various dishes from several different countries: “Chicken cacciatore is Italian, kangaroo soufflé must be Australian, /Mutton chops are definitely British, chicken soup undoubtedly is Yiddish… /So, there you have one food from each land, each one delicious, each one simply grand, /Mix them all up in one big mish-mash, and what have you got? Hungarian goulash!”

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Honorable mention:  “Diggin’ My Potatoes,” James Cotton, 1984; “Tangerine,” Led Zeppelin, 1970;  “Dixie Chicken,” Little Feat, 1973; “Strawberry Fields Forever,” The Beatles, 1967;  “Tupelo Honey,” Van Morrison, 1971;  “Pineapple Head,” Crowded House, 1993; “Buttered Popcorn,” The Supremes, 1961; “Hotdogs and Hamburgers,” John Mellencamp, 1987; “Rock and Roll Stew,” Traffic, 1971; “Corned Beef City,” Mark Knopfler, 2012.

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He’s just another dreamer, dreaming about Everyman

Posted on by brucehhackett

These days, there seems to be a lot of discussion of masculinity and what it is to be a good man. Some take a look at the stereotypical “he-man” bodybuilder and say it’s archaic or one-dimensional. Surely it should be just as important that men be esteemable male role models on the inside. Can’t men be strong providers and strong husbands/fathers as well?

In honor of Father’s Day next weekend, I started looking at the broad range of songs in popular music that talk about men. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised that there are hundreds, maybe a thousand or more, that focus on men, nearly as many as those that focus on women. Within that group, I was intrigued by the many dozens of tunes whose titles fit a “_________ Man” format, so I decided to zero in on those.

I’ve selected 25 songs, and another 25 honorable mentions, that describe various types and characteristics of men or their professions. They’re all lumped together in a Spotify playlist at the end.

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“Walk Like a Man,” The Four Seasons, 1963

This early ’60s classic by The Four Seasons is sung from the perspective of a man whose girlfriend has been belittling him, and his father advises him to “walk like a man” and leave the relationship in order to preserve his dignity. Written by producer Bob Crewe and bassist Bob Gaudio, who wrote many tunes in the vocal group’s catalog, “Walk Like a Man” was their third consecutive #1 hit and one of ten Top Ten hits between 1962 and 1967. “Oh, how you tried to cut me down to size by telling dirty lies to my friends, /But my own father said ‘Give her up, don’t bother, the world isn’t coming to an end, /He said, ‘Walk like a man, talk like a man, walk like a man, my son, /No woman’s worth crawling on the earth, so walk like a man, my son’…” 

“Real Man,” Todd Rundgren, 1975

I’ve always found it puzzling why this engaging song wasn’t a solid hit for Rundgren. Both the single and the album it came from — 1975’s “Initiation” — stalled in the mid-80s on US charts. Musically, it’s got a great melody, arrangement and lead vocal, and lyrically, it examines the need to grow up and show some backbone. It borrows from the Bible verse — “When I was a child, I thought as a child, I spoke as a child” — before doing some self-examination about the need to dig deeper and adopt a more mature perspective: “The time comes to everybody when you must decide, /When that day finally comes along, you might wish you’d been a little more strong, /Then you’ll wake up in the morning cryin’ ‘Oh my God, there it is, way down inside me,’ /It’s a real man, you got to grow up sometime, /Be a real man, suffer them slings and arrows…”

“Trouble Man,” Marvin Gaye, 1972

Following the unanimous praise and international success of his “What’s Going On” LP in 1971, Gaye negotiated a new contract with Motown giving him complete creative control. Spurred on by the popularity of Isaac Hayes’ “Shaft” and Curtis Mayfield’s “Superfly,” Gaye chose to do the film soundtrack for the crime thriller “Trouble Man,” released late in 1972. The title song focused on the movie’s central character, a private detective and “ghetto fixer” who went looking for trouble and usually found it. It was a #10 hit single on US pop charts in 1973. The lyrics explain the character’s rough upbringing and life path: “I come up hard, baby, I’m in for real, baby, /Gonna keep movin’, gonna go to town, /I come up hard, I come up, gettin’ down, /There’s only three things that’s for sho’: /Taxes, death and trouble…”

“Solitary Man,” Neil Diamond, 1966

This memorable track, a “ballad of a loner looking for love,” became Diamond’s first hit as a performing artist. Although it stalled at #55 when first released in 1966, it reached #21 upon re-release in 1970, and Johnny Cash’s cover version won him a Best Msaler Country Vocal Grammy in 2000. The theme of the song has been closely identified with Diamond himself, as he admitted in a 2008 interview: “After four years of psycholanalysis, I came to the realization that I had written ‘Solitary Man’ about myself.” The lyrics list some of his relationships and how they ended, and lament, “I know it’s been done, having one girl who loves you,” but he doubts it will happen for him: “Don’t know that I will, but until I can find me the girl who’ll stay and won’t play games behind me, /I’ll be what I am, a solitary man…”

“Angry Young Man,” Billy Joel, 1976

Although not released as a single, “Angry Young Man” emerged as one of Joel’s most popular in-concert songs. On his 1976 LP “Turnstiles,” the song is preceded by a one-minute piano instrumental “Prelude” before jumping right into a character study that satirizes a self-righteous, idealistic youth who, in his restless struggle for causes, becomes increasingly isolated. Joel has said this song is not autobiographical, but the narrator juxtaposes youthful indignation with a more resigned adult viewpoint, suggesting either that he once was the angry young man or has known many like him: “Give a moment or two to the angry young man with his foot in his mouth and his heart in his hand, /He’s been stabbed in the back, he’s been misunderstood, it’s a comfort to know his intentions are good…”

“Nowhere Man,” The Beatles, 1966

As The Beatles were working feverishly writing and recording songs in autumn 1965 for their “Rubber Soul” album so they could release it in time for the Christmas buying season, John Lennon hit a writer’s block. “I’d spent hours and hours that day trying to write a song that was meaningful and good,” he recalled. “I was getting nowhere… Finally I gave up and lay down, and then ‘Nowhere Man’ just came, words and music, the whole damn thing.” It was one of the first Beatles songs not about love and romance, released on the British version of “Rubber Soul” but removed from the US pressing. Instead, it became a #3 single here in early 1966 and then included on the cobbled-together “Yesterday and Today” album a few months later. “He’s a real nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody, /Doesn’t have a point of view, knows not where he’s going to, /Isn’t he a bit like you and me?…”

“Ice Cream Man,” Tom Waits, 1973

He hasn’t been all that successful commercially, but Tom Waits has always been a critics’ darling, writing and recording grittily realistic studies of society’s outliers and ne-er-do-wells. In a review of his astounding 1973 debut LP “Closing Time,” he was described as “a boozier, earthier version of Randy Newman who similarly delights in rummaging through the attics of nostalgia and life’s underbelly.” The album is full of vulnerable, emotionally charged lyrics set to downbeat tempos, but the exception is the bright, lustful “Ice Cream Man,” which suggestively equates sweet treats with sex: “I got a cherry popsicle right on time, a big stick, mama, that’ll blow your mind, /’Cause I’m your ice-cream man, I’m a one-man band, yeah, /I’m your ice-cream man, honey, I’ll be good to you…”

“Rocket Man,” Elton John, 1972

Bernie Taupin, Elton John’s longtime lyricist, recalls how heroic the US astronauts seemed during the early years of space exploration, but by the early ’70s, some of these men felt it was “just their job, their occupation.” Taupin wrote lyrics that described the astronaut’s life as an every-day job, like a traveling salesman, beginning with the opening line “She packed my bags last night, pre-flight.” Some called “Rocket Man” a continuation of the theme David Bowie explored in “Space Oddity” three years earlier, but it became a much bigger song, reaching #6 on US charts and becoming what is often considered Elton’s signature tune, right down to the title of his 2019 biopic. “I miss the Earth so much, I miss my wife, /It’s lonely out in space on such a timeless flight… /And all this science, I don’t understand, it’s just my job, five days a week, /A rocket man…”

“Walking Man,” James Taylor, 1974

Some people say Taylor’s song “Walking Man” is about the journey of life, walking down the road and looking for direction. Others say it’s about a lonely man, making his way through life with minimal contact with other people. Others say it’s about a restless individual, just wandering through life restlessly. Others say it’s about the passing of time, or the turning of the seasons. Taylor said it was inspired by his father. “It’s about my longing for him,” he explained. “He disappeared for a few years when I was seven, eight and nine. He was drafted into the Navy, and then he volunteered to go to the South Pole. We missed him a lot. My mother had five kids born within six years in the countryside of North Carolina, and here she was waiting for her husband to come home. That always stayed with me.” It’s the title track of his sixth LP, released in 1974: “Walking man walk, walk on by my door, /Well, any other man stops and talks, but not the walking man, /He’s the walking man, born to walk, walk on, walking man…”

“Forever Man,” Eric Clapton, 1985

Clapton signed a new record deal with Warner Brothers in 1985, but it didn’t start out too well. When he submitted the recordings of his latest songs, the label resisted, saying they didn’t hear any potential hit singles. They insisted he record three additional songs, all by songwriter Jerry Lynn Williams, who had also written material for Bonnie Raitt, Robert Plant and Stevie Ray Vaughan. One of those was “Forever Man,” which turned out to be a #26 hit on US pop charts that year. It’s got a solid poop/rock beat, a textbook Clapton solo midway through, and a spirited lead vocal, singing lyrics about a guy who hopes his undying love will be met with similar permanent feelings from his lady: “How many times must I say I love you before you finally understand? /Won’t you be my forever woman? I will try to be your forever man…”

“Back Door Man,” The Doors, 1967

Willie Dixon and Howlin’ Wolf, two blues titans from the Mississippi delta, co-wrote this provocative tune in 1960, the year Howlin’ Wolf first recorded it. In the South, the term “back-door man” referred to a man having a tryst with a married woman, using the back door to escape before her husband catches them in the act. In 1966, Robby Krieger, guitarist for The Doors, heard a blues rock adaptation of the song by John Hammond Jr. and thought it would be a perfect song for the band (and especially Jim Morrison) to cover, and they ended up including a convincing rendition on their explosive 1967 debut LP. Drummer John Densmore called the track “deeply sexual and powerful.” “Hey, all you people that tryin’ to sleep, I’m out to make it with my midnight creep, yeah, /’Cause I’m a back door man, I’m a back door man, /The men don’t know, but the little girls understand…”

“Simple Man,” Lynyrd Skynyrd, 1973

As “Southern rock” became a thing in the early and mid-1970s, Jacksonville-based Lynyrd Skynyrd became enormously popular with Ronnie Van Zant’s soulful vocal delivery and the band’s three-guitar attack that rallied their growing legion of fans. While the rebel anthem “Sweet Home Alabama” and FM radio warhorse “Free Bird” got the lion’s share of attention, there were at least a dozen other tracks that have remained popular even a half-century later. One of those is “Simple Man,” a Van Zant composition from their audacious 1973 debut LP “Pronounced ‘Lěh-‘nérd ‘Skin-‘nérd.” Inspired by the death of Van Zant’s grandmother, it concerns a mother talking to her child about what’s truly important: “Forget your lust for the rich man’s gold, all that you need is in your soul, /Boy, don’t you worry, you’ll find yourself, follow your heart and nothing else, /And you can do this, oh baby, if you try, All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied, /And be a simple kind of man, oh, be something you love and understand…”

“Magic Man,” Heart, 1976

Ann and Nancy Wilson were the powerhouse singer-songwriter sisters who founded Heart, the Seattle-based band that led the way for women to front rock groups. Among the songs they wrote in the late ’70s that established Heart as a hard-rock force to be reckoned with were “Crazy On You,” “Barracuda” and the autobiographical “Magic Man” (which reached #9 in the autumn of 1976). The lyrics of the latter track are sung from the point of view of a young woman being pursued by a much older man, much to the chagrin of her mother. Ann Wilson later revealed that the song was about her then-manager Michael Fisher, who wanted to turn their relationship from business to personal, and she tried to reassure her mom that he was truly special: “Mama says she’s worried I’m growing up in a hurry, yeah, /’Come on home, girl,’ mama cried on the phone, ‘Too soon to lose my baby yet, my girl should be at home!’ /’But try to understand, try to understand, try try try to understand he’s a magic man, mama…”

“A Well Respected Man,” The Kinks, 1966

Kinks frontman Ray Davies had a negative experience at a luxury resort in England in 1965, where the upper-class guests surreptitiously made fun of him by coaxing him to join therm for a golf game, all the while belittling his rock star persona and working-class background. “I took an instant dislike to them because they drew me in and pretended to make me one of them, but they were laughing at me behind my back,” Davies said. He came home and wrote “A Well Respected Man,” a scathing parody of these snobby elites, and it reached #13 in the US. “It was one of my first attempts at using words to say more than just “You Really Got Me” and so forth.” “And he plays at stocks and shares, and he goes to the regatta, /And he adores the girl next door ’cause he’s dying to get at her, /’Cause he’s oh so good, and he’s oh so fine, /And he’s oh so healthy in his body and his mind, /He’s a well-respected man about town, doing the best things so conservatively…”

“Ramblin’ Man,” Allman Brothers Band, 1973

After the untimely, tragic death of Duane Allman, the burden of leadership of The Allman Brothers Band fell on second guitarist Dickey Betts when Gregg Allman simply couldn’t handle the stress. Betts had been steeped more in country and bluegrass than blues and rock ‘n’ roll, and it showed up in the songs he was writing. One in particular, “Ramblin’ Man,” seemed so overtly country to his bandmates that they at first resisted recording it, but they were eventually persuaded, and it went on to become one of their signature tunes, thanks to the dual guitar solos between Betts and guest guitarist Les Dudek that closed the track. Betts said he was inspired by the memory of his father taking him on a long bus ride when he was very young. “I was born in the back seat of a Greyhound bus rollin’ down highway 41, /Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man, tryin’ to make a livin’ and doin’ the best I can, /And when it’s time for leavin’, I hope you’ll understand that I was born a ramblin’ man…”

“Soul Man,” Sam & Dave, 1967

The great Isaac Hayes and his songwriter/producer partner David Porter at Stax Records wrote this song in 1966 after reading about the urban riots that plagued a few American cities that summer. “If you listen to the words, you’ll realize it’s about the black man’s struggle to riser above his present conditions,” said Hayes. “It boasts, ‘I’m a soul man.’ It’s a pride thing.” It became a big hit twice, first for the Stax duo Sam & Dave, reaching #2 in 1967, and again in 1979 when John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd and their Blues Brothers soul tribute band reached #14 on US pop charts. “Gots what I got the hard way, and I’ll make it better each and every day, /So honey, don’t you fret, ’cause you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, /I’m a soul man, oh Lord, I’m a soul man…”

“Macho Man,” Village People, 1978

Two French music producers named Jacques Morali and Henri Bellolo wanted to capitalize on the disco music craze that was building in gay and ethnic dance clubs in New York City. They decided to make their endeavor fun and campy, running an ad in theater trade magazines that said “Macho Types Wanted: Must Dance and Have a Moustache.” They hand-picked actor-dancers to play stage characters who symbolized masculine gay-fantasy personas: cop, cowboy, construction worker, American Indian, GI, leather-clad. “Macho Man” became their first hit (#25 on pop charts, #4 on dance club charts), followed by “In the Navy” and the still-popular “Y.M.C.A.” There’s a pre-MTV music video that exists showing the characters working out and dancing in a gym. “Every man wants to be a macho man, to have the kind of body always in demand, /Jogging in the mornings, go man go, workouts in the health spa, muscles grow, /You can best believe me, he’s a macho man…”

“Southern Man,” Neil Young, 1970

A Canadian by birth, Young has lived most of his life in the U.S. and has traveled extensively through its regions. In his early days, he recalled being outraged by stories from history of violent racial injustice in the South, and one night after seeing the segregation first hand in a Mississippi town, he was motivated to write “Southern Man,” an angry rocker that tells the story of a white plantation owner and his black slaves, wondering if amends would ever be made for their mistreatment. The song appeared on Young’s “After the Gold Rush” LP and again in an extended version on Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s live “Four-Way Street” album. “I saw cotton and I saw black, tall white mansions and little shacks, /Southern man, when will you pay them back? /I heard screaming and bullwhips cracking, /How long? How long?…”

“The Guitar Man,” Bread, 1972

Men who make their living playing music on tour in bands will tell you it’s not always as fun and exotic as it’s cracked up to be. That’s what David Gates, chief songwriter and singer of Bread, was driving at when he wrote “The Guitar Man.” Lyrically, it’s a kind of psychological exploration of how the life of a traveling musician can often be quite lonely, highlighting how art connects the listening audience while leaving the artist isolated in his transient existence. It’s actually keyboardist Larry Knechtel who provided the wah-wah electric guitar solo that symbolizes the title of the song, which reached #11 in 1972: “Something keeps him moving, but no one seems to know what it is that makes him go,  /Then the lights begin to flicker and the sound is getting dim, /The voice begins to falter, and the crowds are getting thin, /But he never seems to notice, he’s just got to find another place to play…”

“Street Fighting Man,” Rolling Stones, 1968

Anti-war protests, assassinations and general unrest in numerous countries made 1968 a milestone year in world politics, and popular songwriters took notice. At the same time John Lennon was writing “Revolution” for The Beatles, Mick Jagger was writing a new set of lyrics for a completed Rolling Stones tune, changing it from “Did Everyone Pay Their Dues?” to “Street Fighting Man.” Jagger was specifically inspired by demonstrations in France and the U.S., and he found it strange that there were no such uprisings in his native England that summer: “Hey, think the time is right for a palace revolution, /But where I live, the game to play is compromise solution, /Well now, what can a poor boy do ‘cept to sing for a rock n’ roll band? /’Cause in sleepy London town, there’s just no place for a street fighting man…”

“Travelin’ Man,” Rick Nelson, 1961

This warm, accessible tune by songwriter Jerry Fuller became a huge #1 hit for teen idol Rick(y) Nelson in 1961. Because it details the loves of a world traveler with an eye for beautiful women, it may seem a bit frivolous and anachronistic now, but Fuller said in recent years, “It was one of those ‘a girl in every port’ songs, and it struck a big chord at the time.” The women in each locale are referenced by a word or phrase associated with the location: a “pretty señorita” in Mexico, a “China doll” in Hong Kong, a “sweet fräulein” in Berlin, a “cute little Eskimo” in Alaska, a “pretty Polynesian baby” in Hawaii. “I’m a travelin’ man, made a lot of stops all over the world, /And in every port I own the heart of at least one lovely girl…”

“Iron Man,” Black Sabbath, 1970

For their second LP, Black Sabbath’s bass player Geezer Butler wrote a heavy metal song with a science fiction theme. “Iron Man” (no relation to the Marvel Comics character) tells the story of a man who travels into the future and witnesses an apocalypse, but in the process of returning to the present day to warn the human race, he is turned into iron as he passes through a magnetic field and is subsequently ridiculed and ignored by the people he intended to save. Feeling resentful, Iron Man retaliates by actually causing the destruction seen in his vision. It became a cautionary tale and a hard rock anthem: “He was turned to steel in the great magnetic field when he traveled time for the future of mankind, /Nobody wants him, he just stares at the world, /Planning his vengeance that he will soon unfurl…”

“Mr. Tambourine Man,” The Byrds, 1965

This landmark song was conceived during a cross-country trip Bob Dylan took in 1964, including a stop in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Its four verses full of vivid imagery were written over a period of months before being recorded by Dylan in early 1965. The narrator, dazed from a sleepless night, nonetheless finds comfort in the song being played by the tambourine-and-guitar artist outside his window. Some have interpreted the tambourine man as a metaphor for a deity or muse the narrator wishes to follow. Dylan’s original, which appeared on his “Bringing It All Back Home” LP, never charted, but the rearranged, heavily edited cover version by The Byrds, released only weeks later, peaked at #1 on US pop charts as the opening salvo in the new “folk rock” genre. “I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade unto my own parade, /Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it, /Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, in the jingle-jangle morning, I’ll come followin’ you…”

“Family Man,” Hall and Oates, 1982

This tune was written and first recorded by British recording artist Mike Oldfield, who enjoyed a long career in the UK but was known in the US only for his 1973 “Tubular Bells” LP. When Daryl Hall heard Oldfield’s duet with singer Maggie Reilly, “I could tell it was a song that had potential,” he said. “I was looking for a different sound on the album we were doing (‘H2O’), and I thought, “Nobody in the States is ever going to hear this song if we don’t record it.'” It’s about a chance meeting between a prostitute and a married man who is tempted, but insists he is not interested. This just makes her more determined, so she lowers her price and flirts, but he again turns her away. “She wore hurt surprise as she rechecked her make-up to protect herself, /Dropped her price and pride, she made it totally clear that she was his for a night, /But he said, ‘Leave me alone, I’m a family man, and my bark is much worse than my bite,’ /He said, ‘Leave me alone, I’m a family man, if you push me too far, I just might’…”

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Honorable mention:

“I’m a Man,” Spencer Davis Group, 1967; “Simple Man,” Graham Nash, 1971; “Better Man,” Pearl Jam, 1993; “Lonely Man,” Elvis Presley, 1968; “Cautious Man,” Bruce Springsteen, 1987; “Miracle Man,” Elvis Costello, 1977; “Secret Agent Man,” Johnny Rivers, 1966; “Melancholy Man,” The Moody Blues, 1970; “Fat Man,” Jethro Tull, 1969; “Piano Man,” Billy Joel, 1973; “Last Year’s Man,” Leonard Cohen, 1971; “Medicine Man,” Michael Murphy, 1975; “Sharp Dressed Man,” ZZ Top, 1983; “21st Century Schizoid Man,” King Crimson, 1969; “What a Man,” Lynda Lindell, 1968; “Son of a Preacher Man,” Dusty Springfield, 1966; “A Most Peculiar Man,” Simon and Garfunkel, 1966; “You’re a Sweet Sweet Man,” Aretha Franklin, 1968; “Brown Eyed Handsome Man,” Chuck Berry, 1957; “Music Man,” Doobie Brothers, 1975; “Third World Man,” Steely Dan, 1980; “Ladies Man,” Joni Mitchell, 1982; “Running Man,” Al Stewart, 1980; “Handy Man,” James Taylor, 1977; “For Everyman,” Jackson Browne, 1973.

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