And I feel like a number

I’ve written quite a few blog entries that explore various lyrical themes in rock music:  Songs about breaking up, songs of gratitude, songs about states, songs about summer, songs about healing and renewal, songs about cars and driving…

This time, let’s look at the numbers.  That is, songs with numbers in the title.

gettyimages_178895760There are probably several thousand songs that include a number in the title, from “One” by Three Dog Night to “Wait a Million Years” by The Grass Roots, and most of the numbers in between.  To help pare down the list of candidates I’d be exploring, I decided to limit the list to songs that use numerals, rather than the word for a number.  Granted, that means great songs like “I’m Eighteen” by Alice Cooper, “Three Roses” by America, “At Seventeen” by Janis Ian and “Ten Years Gone” by Led Zeppelin were out of the running.  Maybe they’ll show up in another list on another blog entry…

Numerals are used in song titles in a variety of ways:  as flight numbers, as auto models, as times of day, as phone numbers, as dollar amounts, as years, as highway route numbers.

As is customary at “Hack’s Back Pages,” I’m focusing on songs from the 1955-1990 period, just because that’s the era I know best.  And, as always, there’s a Spotify playlist at the end so you can listen along as you read!

And here we go with a dozen songs worth checking out:

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2721f973e88b9745f7de808a3f349171“867-5309/Jenny,” Tommy Tutone, 1981

Woe to those folks in area codes all over the country who happened to have this phone number in early 1982.  Songwriter Alex Call came up with this power-pop ear worm, which centers on a teenaged boy who finds a girl’s name and phone number on a wall and is hoping to work up the nerve to call her.  It was implied not only that the wall was a men’s bathroom wall but that Jenny was eager to please, which led thousands of teens, and adult drunks, to call and leave dirty messages.  A one-hit wonder group called Tommy Tutone took the song to #4 in March 1982, and the number remains perhaps the most ingrained phone number in pop music history (along with The Marvalettes’ 1962 hit “Beechwood 4-5789”).  Apparently, 867-5309, which Call says “came to me out of thin air,” is still an available phone number in some parts of the country, but discontinued in others.

crosby-stills-nash-and-young-teach-your-children-atlantic-ab“4 + 20,” Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, 1970

This foursome of talented songwriters was never able to stay together for long because they each had too many songs they wanted to record and not enough room on group albums, and their egos were pretty huge, so they often went off on numerous solo and duo projects instead.  In late 1969, as they were assembling the legendary “Deja Vu” LP, CSN&Y divvied up the available slots between the four.  Stephen Stills was eager to contribute “4 + 20,” a solemn look at his life at the tender age of 24.  (Coincidentally, Neil Young’s “Old Man” also reflected on his life at that age — “24 and there’s so much more…”). This rather bleak Stills track really should’ve been held back for a solo LP because it features him all alone on vocals and guitar, instead of the trademark 3- and 4-part harmonies that were the group’s signature sound.

e192c153d627d07e92249657f027bf92--elo-album-covers“10538 Overture,” Electric Light Orchestra, 1972

Roy Wood, Jeff Lynne and Bev Bevan had been the prime players in the British rock band The Move in the late ’60s, and in 1971, they started a new project that would feature orchestral instruments in a rock setting.  In particular, they used “sawing” cello riffs in place of guitar parts on tracks like “10538 Overture,” an early single from the group’s debut LP.  “The critics called it ‘baroque and roll,’ which is actually pretty accurate,” said Lynne, who soon became the leader of the band known as Electric Light Orchestra.  This track is about an escaped prisoner, and Lynne chose to give him a number (10538) instead of a name, just like in prison.  The song reached #9 in England but stiffed in the US, where their success didn’t begin until 1974’s “Can’t Get It Out of My Head.”

sweetbabyjames“Suite for 20G,” James Taylor, 1970

As Taylor and producer Peter Asher were putting the finishing touches on the classic “Sweet Baby James” album in early 1970, the guys in charge at Warner Brothers told them they were still one song shy of the number required.  To light a fire under the reluctant artist, the record company told him, “Write one more song and record it, and you’ll be all done, and we’ll give you a $20,000 advance.”  So James holed up in his hotel room and cranked out a song specifically to meet that demand, and he called it, slyly, “Suite for 20G.”  (I always thought 20G was a hotel room or apartment number…)  He turned three song fragments into a suite that closes the album in festive fashion.

toto-99-1980-3“99,” Toto, 1979

Composer David Paich, keyboard player for the LA band Toto, said this song was inspired by George Lucas’s early science-fiction film “THX-1138,” about life in a 25th Century totalitarian state where numbers replace names and love is forbidden.  It was only a minor hit, peaking at #26 in 1980, but the track became something of a pop culture favorite among TV fans who saw the lyrics as a loving tribute to the sexy Agent 99 on the ’60s TV show “Get Smart”!

waitstomclosingtom_enl.png“Ol’ ’55,” Tom Waits, 1973

It’s a damn shame that a huge swath of the rock/pop music audience is pretty much unfamiliar with Waits, perhaps the most interesting of many under-the-radar songwriting artists of the ’70s/’80s and beyond.  His gruff vocals and loose jazz-folk arrangements may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but boy, some of his songs are magnificent.  Witness “Ol’ ’55,” which was the leadoff track on his excellent 1973 debut LP, “Closing Time.”  It paints a poignant picture of a man driving all night in his old 1955 vehicle, and pulling into town at sunrise, feeling like good fortune might be coming his way.  He has said he never much cared for The Eagles’ version (from their 1974 LP, “On the Border”) because it was “too sweet, too antiseptic.”  Other covers worth hearing include those by Sarah McLachlan, Ian Matthews and Richie Havens.

1581522“19th Nervous Breakdown,” The Rolling Stones, 1966

Once The Stones became a sensation with the release of their #1 smash hit “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” in the summer of 1965, the band was sent out on a relentless five-month tour of the US and other countries, their first foray outside England.  Mick Jagger recalls saying wearily to the band after one show, “I don’t know about you blokes, but I’m about to have my nineteenth nervous breakdown.”  They immediately seized on the phrase as a great song title, and wrote a tune around it that lambasted spoiled teenagers who receive many riches but are still unhappy.  “Most of the songs of that time, other than maybe what Bob Dylan was writing, were simple love songs,” said Jagger years later.  “So a song like this one was considered jarring, even shocking, to a lot of people.  Who writes pop songs about nervous breakdowns?”

chicago-25_or_6_to_4_s_1“25 or 6 to 4,” Chicago, 1970

Upon its release, I recall wondering just what this strange title was supposed to mean.  I decided it meant “25 minutes before 4:00, or 6 minutes before 4:00.”  Turns out I was pretty close.  Many years later, composer Robert Lamm, Chicago’s keyboardist/vocalist, said the song describes a time he was in the Hollywood Hills struggling to write a song in the wee hours of the morning.  “The lyrics are pretty clear — ‘Waiting for the break of day, searching for something to say.’  I looked at the clock and saw that it was 3:35 am, or maybe 3:34 am.  So when the line came out, it was 25, or 26, minutes ’til 4 o’clock.”  Regardless, it was one of Chicago’s biggest hits, merging a powerful horn section, Terry Kath’s fiery guitar solo and Peter Cetera’s vocals into one strong song that was performed at virtually every concert they’ve ever done.

cover_47491729112011_r“Farenheit 451,” Todd Rundgren and Utopia, 1981

When Ronald Reagan won the 1980 election, Rundgren and other progressive- minded people feared there would be a conservative backlash against the social issues of the day. He was right, and Utopia’s 1981 LP “Swing to the Right” included songs that reflected Rundgren’s thoughts on that political turn.  One of them was “Fahrenheit 451,” a crystal-clear reference to the 1953 Ray Bradbury book about a dystopian society where all books are burned.  The title refers to the temperature at which book paper catches fire.

James_Gang_-_James_Gang_Rides_Again“Funk #49,” The James Gang, 1970

Joe Walsh explains how he and his early Cleveland-based group came up with their songs:  “We used to play covers like The Yardbirds’ ‘Lost Woman’ and Buffalo Springfield’s ‘Bluebird.’  Then we’d go off into a four- or five-minute jam in the middle.  We took those jams and wrote words to them, and those were really the bulk of the first and second James Gang albums.”  So why is the eventual single called “Funk #49”?  “Well, we had a funky little jam on the first album we called ‘Funk 48.’  I don’t know why.  Then we said, ‘Hey, this is that other funk jam we have.’  And it seemed like we were counting the number of times we’d ever played it. We figured it was right around 50.  Our producer Bill Szymczyk said ‘It couldn’t have been 50.’  We said, ‘Okay, well, 49 then!’  We continued the sequence.”  The group also wrote a track called “Funk 50” but never released it…until 2012, more than 40 years later, when Walsh revived it for his “Analog Man” album.  It completes a nice trilogy for any Walsh/James Gang playlist you might want to create.

nebraska_alb“Johnny 99,” Bruce Springsteen, 1982

Following the release in 1980 of his double LP “The River” — which included his first Top Ten hit, “Hungry Heart” — Springsteen surprised and/or disappointed his growing fan base, pulling way back from the exuberance of The E Street Band to release “Nebraska,” a collection of stripped-down tunes of despair recorded alone at home in 1982 on a 4-track cassette machine.  Many critics hailed it as a brilliant departure that gave him gravitas to balance the party guy who led a vivacious live band.  One of the tracks he has often performed live in the years since then is “Johnny 99,” which tells the tale of a desperate, drunk, unemployed man who shot a night motel clerk and was ultimately sentenced to 99 years in prison.  Springsteen has said he was honored and thrilled that country music legend Johnny Cash recorded it as the title song of a 1983 LP.

220px-LetItBe“One After 909,” The Beatles, 1970

It’s a pretty bittersweet truth that, as The Beatles were breaking up, they were able to show signs of closure in their recordings.  The “Abbey Road” LP famously concludes with “The End” and its philosophical line, “and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”  Similarly, on the band’s final LP release, “Let It Be,” they included a rousing live recording, from the Apple Records rooftop “concert,” of “One After 909,” a song John Lennon and Paul McCartney had written more than a decade earlier, not long after they first met as teenagers.  Said Lennon in 1980:  “That was something I wrote when I was about 17.  I lived at 9 Newcastle Road, and I was born on October 9.  The number nine seemed to follow me around all my life.”  McCartney added, “That one has great memories for me of us trying to write a train song.  The lyrics are simple — she didn’t make the 9:09 train, she took the next one.”

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Honorable mention:

“3/5 of a Mile in 10 Seconds,” Jefferson Airplane, 1967;   “Highway 61 Revisited,” Bob Dylan, 1965;  “Love Potion No. 9,” The Searchers, 1964;  “5:15,” The Who, 1973;  “409,” The Beach Boys, 1963;  “30 Days in the Hole,” Humble Pie, 1972;  “96 Tears,” ? and The Mysterians, 1966;  “Driver 8,” R.E.M., 1985;  “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,” Paul Simon, 1975;  “9 to 5,” Dolly Parton, 1980;  “’39,” Queen, 1975;  “1-2-3,” Len Barry, 1965;  “Revolution 9,” The Beatles, 1968;  “Hymn 43,” Jethro Tull, 1971;  “Miami 2017,” Billy Joel, 1976;  “Route 66,” Nat King Cole, 1956;  “Flight 602,” Chicago, 1971

Are you gathering up the tears?

Consider, if you will, the misfits and ne’er-do-wells who populate many of the songs in the Steely Dan catalog:

Charlie Freak.  Kid Charlemagne.  Showbiz kids.  Deacon Blues.  Babylon sisters.  Mister LaPage.  Cousin Dupree.  Doctor Wu.  Felonious the midnight cruiser.  The bookkeeper’s son with a case of dynamite.

These are fringe people, generally unpleasant outcast types:  drug dealers, embezzlers, deadbeat dads, trust-fund brats, fugitives, prostitutes, pedophiles, mass murderers, gentlemen losers.

What kind of songwriter comes up with characters like these, and then tells their stories to catchy, irresistible beats and quasi-jazzy rhythms?  I’ll tell you who — musical geniuses who always considered themselves loners, marginal sorts, people who didn’t seem to fit in.  People like Walter Becker and Donald Fagen.

walter-becker.jpg.size.custom.crop.840x650

Donald Fagen (left) and Walter Becker

“You can infer certain things about the lives of people who would write these songs,” said Becker cryptically in a 2000 interview.  “This we cannot and do not deny.”

Although Steely Dan’s music was smart, sophisticated, likable and accessible, the lyrics were subversive, mordant and sketchy.  As Becker put it in 2008, “That’s what we wanted to do, conquer from the margins.  Donald and I were creatures of the margin and of alienation, and the characters in our lyrics were eccentric, alienated types as well, and so was much of our audience, at least initially.”

Unknown-3And now Becker is gone, dead at 67 from as-yet-unannounced causes.  He had been ill most of the summer and had recently undergone a surgical procedure, but that’s about all we know.  It doesn’t really matter — what matters to us is the fact that he’s no longer here to record and perform the songs we love so well.

“Walter was my friend, my writing partner and my bandmate since we met at Bard College in 1967,” said Fagen the day after Becker’s passing.  “He was smart as a whip, an excellent guitarist and a great songwriter.  He was cynical about human nature, including his own, and hysterically funny.”

At the recent Classic West and East concerts in July, Fagen soldiered on without him, excusing Becker’s absence by saying, “Walter’s recovering from a procedure and we hope he’ll be fine very soon.”

The Steely Dan “band” has been the perennial revolving door of almost interchangeable players — different guitarists, drummers, bassists, sax players, backing singers — so frankly, it wasn’t all that difficult to mask the fact that Becker’s guitar or bass wasn’t on stage.  With that in mind, I venture to say Fagen and company will continue to tour as they have every year or so since Steely Dan was reborn in 1993 after a 13-year absence.

images-1Becker and Fagen were the eccentric wizards behind the compelling music found on the seven brilliant Steely Dan albums of their initial 1972-1980 run, and two lesser LPs in 2000 and 2003.  Almost universally praised for their imaginative creativity and sonically perfect recordings, Becker and Fagen disliked touring because of the weary grind of it all, and the fact that the performances were so erratic.

As Becker put it in 2008, “It wasn’t so much fun back then.  It’s like anything else.  Some nights, it’s fun.  Some nights, it’s not fun.  Back in the ’70s, I’m not sure I cared if it was fun or not.  There were good performances, but it was much harder to guarantee a certain level of quality.”

In 1975, the duo decided to quit touring and concentrate on writing and recording.  The rest of the original band — guitarists Jeff “Skunk” Baxter and Denny Dias, and drummer Jim Hodder — wanted (and needed) to tour.  Becker conceded in 1977, “It was unfair of us to spend eight months writing and recording, when Baxter and others wanted to be out touring a lot, making money.  We didn’t want to tour, so that was that.”

From then on, their albums featured the work of dozens of veteran session musicians, seasoned pros who were among the industry’s finest on their respective instruments.  On “Katy Lied,” for instance, guitarists Larry Carlton, Rick Derringer, Elliott Randall, Dean Parks and Hugh McCracken all appear.  On 1977’s best seller “Aja,” Fagen and Becker recruited six different drummers, four additional keyboard players, five sax players (including the legendary Wayne Shorter), and the backing voices of Michael McDonald, Timothy B. Schmidt, Clydie King, Venetta Fields and Sherlie Matthews.  Other greats featured on other albums include Mark Knopfler, Steve Gadd, Victor Feldman, Tom Scott, Joe Sample and Don Grolnick.

“Actually, we’ve had outside musicians on our songs from the first album on,” said Becker in 1977.  “That’s Elliott Randall doing the guitar solo on ‘Reelin’ in the Years.’  You know, The Beatles used Eric Clapton on The White Album, so it wasn’t a new idea to have what we came to call our ‘expanded band concept.'”

Unknown-1Becker grew up in Queens, NY, and graduated from a prestigious high school there in 1967.  He moved on to Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, where he met Fagen and almost immediately formed a bond.  “We liked the same kind of music,” said Fagen, “and when we started writing songs, we found that I could start one and Walter could finish it, and vice versa.  We thought along the same lines.”

They also both disliked Bard (referenced in the lyric, “That’ll be the day I go back to Annandale” in 1973’s “My Old School”), so they left and moved to California, where they secured a contract with ABC Records as staff songwriters. They did the soundtrack for the early Richard Pryor film “You Gotta Walk It Like You Talk It” and even got Barbra Streisand to record one of their songs (“I Mean to Shine”).

They met producer Gary Katz at ABC, who loved their music and urged them to form a band.  “Your stuff is so unique and personal, no one else can sing it,” Fagen said Katz told 1828771them.  They indeed formed a band, with Katz at the helm manning the boards, and, in their first rebellious act, named the group Steely Dan, which was the brand name of a sex toy in William S. Burroughs classic novel “Naked Lunch.”

When their debut LP, “Can’t Buy a Thrill,” was released in the autumn of 1972, it was an instant Top Ten hit, thanks to the hit single “Do It Again,” and its follow-up, “Reelin’ in the Years.”  It was hailed as “literate college rock,” infused with salsa, soul, blues, jazz and straight rock, and it proved influential for dozens of groups throughout the ’70s and beyond.

Unknown-5The band followed with 1973’s underrated “Countdown to Ecstasy,” which featured longer tracks like “Bodhisattva,” “King of the World,” “Show Biz Kids” and “Pearl of the Quarter” where the players could stretch out a bit.  “Pretzel Logic” followed in 1974, with more 3-minute gems like “Parker’s Band,” “Barrytown,” “Night by Night” and their highest-charting single, “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number” (#4).

Unknown-4Becker disagreed with critics who described their music as an amalgam of rock and jazz.  “We’re not interested in rock/jazz fusion,” he said at the time.  “That has only resulted in ponderous results so far.  We play rock and roll, but we swing when we play.  We want that ongoing flow, that lightness, that forward rush of jazz.”

cover_3340717112009“Katy Lied” and “The Royal Scam” (1975 and 1976) began the new approach, in which they remained holed up in the studio doing take after laborious take, earning a reputation as relentless perfectionists.  And it showed.  On tracks like “Rose Darling,” “Chain Lightning,” “Bad Sneakers,” “Don’t Take Me Alive,” “The Fez” and “Haitian Divorce,” the sound quality on those albums was the envy of rock and jazz 1617480musicians everywhere.

Unknown-1“Aja” in 1977 was perhaps their finest moment, and certainly their commercial peak.  It reached #3 in the US and #5 in England, and sold six million copies.  “Josie,” “Peg,” “Black Cow,” “Deacon Blues” and the title track still get loads of airplay today.

But Becker had developed a heroin habit, lost a girlfriend to a drug overdose, and broke his leg when he was hit by a car.  All this conspired to cause tension and delays during the making of “Gaucho,” which didn’t come out until 1980 (the hit “Hey Nineteen,” along with “Time Out of Mind” and “Babylon Sisters,” f8d43183ab30b0b7ee0baf5d697654dbremain in heavy rotation).  By then, the duo chose to quietly disband.  As Fagen explained, “Walter’s habits got the better of him, and we lost touch for a while.”  Fagen stayed active with an engaging solo LP, “The Nightfly,” and the occasional song for movie soundtracks.  Becker moved to Maui, away from the music business, and went through detox while dabbling at avocado farming.

becker2Becker returned in the late ’80s, producing other artists’ albums and eventually sitting in with Fagen’s new project, the New York Rock ‘n Soul Revue, a veritable cornucopia of musical names including Boz Scaggs, Michael McDonald, Phoebe Snow and the Brigati brothers from The Young Rascals.  In 1993, Becker and Fagen ended up producing each other’s solo albums (Fagen’s “Kamakiriad” and Becker’s “11 Tracks of Whack”).  That went well enough for them to decide the time was right to re-boot Steely Dan and tour for the first time in nearly 20 years.

Technology had improved significantly, Becker noted, “and we had more control.  We felt confident that the concerts sounded pretty great just about every night.”

playback-steely-dan100~_v-img__16__9__xl_-d31c35f8186ebeb80b0cd843a7c267a0e0c81647Fagen and Becker wrote and recorded a couple dozen songs and released them as “Two Against Nature” in 2000 and “Everything Must Go” in 2003.  They sounded superb, as expected, but overall, they somehow lacked the appeal of their earlier work.  Still, improbably, the Grammys voters chose “Two Against Nature” as Album of the Year, and Steely Dan has remained a regular touring act throughout the new millennium.

Older fans who cherished the band’s original seven albums have been thrilled to finally have the opportunity to hear Steely Dan songs performed live in recent years.  On some tours, the band played classic albums in their entirety.  When asked in 2013 if there were any older songs he didn’t want to play, Becker said wryly, “As a guitar player, I’m not opposed to anything.  If I were singing them, that would be different.  I might be opposed.”

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Becker had been very matter-of-fact about the financial side of things.  When probing Becker’s thoughts on the state of the music industry in 2014, an interviewer pointed out, “Kids are stealing your songs from the Internet left and right.”  Becker responded, “They’re just kids.  They really don’t know what’s right or wrong.  I mean, what can I say?  I’m just glad they like our music and listen to it.”

Fagen, who is perhaps more practical about it, was quoted this week as saying, “I have to tour to make a living.  I get maybe 8% of the royalty money I used to make.  With the amount of free downloading, the business is no longer a business, really.  Also, you have to understand, our songs aren’t covered very often by other artists because they’re very personal.  Generally speaking, Walter and I came from an ironic standpoint, so pop singers really don’t do them much.”

But Becker leaves us with his legacy intact.  Bohemian singer-songwriter Rickie Lee Jones, for whom Becker produced her “Flying Cowboys” LP in the late ’80s, made this poignant observation the other day:  “Walter knew what he was doing.  He planted music.  It grows all around us now.”