Periodically, I use this space to pay homage to artists I believe are worthy of focused attention — artists with an extraordinary, influential, consistently excellent body of work and/or a compelling story to tell. In this essay, I take an in-depth look at a band that has enjoyed considerable success with different lineups, playing several very different musical styles from roadhouse boogie to country rock to “blue-eyed soul,” selling many millions of albums and singles, and are still active into their sixth decade: The Doobie Brothers.

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I have often chuckled about how many of The Doobie Brothers’ more straight-laced fans have raved about them and their songs over the years without knowing that their name is slang for marijuana.

Co-founder Tom Johnston, the group’s chief singer-songwriter-guitarist, recalls how the name came to be. “Back in 1970, we were brand new and didn’t even have a name, really. We were just playing around the San Jose area where we lived. One night after a gig, we were sitting around in the kitchen of the house where I was living, getting high. Our friend Keith walked in and said, ‘Man, you guys love smoking pot so much, why don’t you just call yourselves the Doobie Brothers?’ We thought it was a stupid name, but we used it for the next several jobs, and it kind of stuck.”

Fifty years later, after being eligible since 1996, these multi-talented former stoners were at last inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last month. As Patrick Simmons, the band’s other co-founding singer-songwriter-guitarist, put it, “I figured it would happen eventually, but I was afraid I wouldn’t be around to enjoy it!”

For a decade (1972-1982), The Doobies were one of America’s top rock groups, pumping out nearly an album a year and sprinkling the Top 40 with all sorts of hit singles, all while touring almost relentlessly. In the years since their initial dissolution, various members have reconvened for special performances, several tours and a couple of new studio and live albums, and the band was set to embark on a full-fledged 50th reunion tour in 2020 before the coronavirus postponed those plans.

They were so good at everything they tried that it’s hard to define what Doobies music is. There’s pounding rock and roll, highlighted by hard-edged electric guitars. There’s melodic acoustic stuff, featuring country-style picking, pedal steel guitar and fiddle. There’s funky R&B, carried by soulful electric piano, jazz-inflected guitar and syncopated percussion. In the Doobies, these disparate styles had a common denominator — dominant three-part harmonies and strong lead vocals.

I remember the first time I heard The Doobie Brothers when their first hit, “Listen to the Music,” came bursting out of my friend’s high-quality stereo. I was immediately taken by the pristine sound of the guitars, the distinctive lead voice and the fabulous harmonies on the chorus. I picked up my own copy of their “Toulouse Street” album within a day or two and was delighted to find another five or six excellent tracks: the quintessential road song “Rockin’ Down the Highway,” the insistent “Jesus is Just Alright,” the gorgeous acoustic tunes “Toulouse Street” and “White Sun,” the island music of “Mamaloi” and a balls-out cover of Sonny Boy Williamson’s blues stomp, “Don’t Start Me Talkin’.” I became a big fan and have remained one ever since.

Johnston and original drummer John Hartman met in San Jose in 1970, eventually teaming up with Simmons and bass player David Shogren to form the group. Ted Templeman — then a young A&R man for Warner Brothers and now a respected veteran producer of multiple artists — heard their demos featuring the dual lead guitars and three-part harmonies and signed them to the WB label.

Their early following consisted of Hells Angels and other rough-and-tumble biker types who frequented the bars and roadhouses they played in Northern California, and although their debut album cover featured the band dressed in leather jackets, the music within was decidedly more acoustic-based. It didn’t sell much.

That all changed with “Toulouse Street,” which reached #21 on the album charts in 1972 and yielded two singles (“Listen to the Music” at #11 and “Jesus is Just Alright” at #35). The Doobie Brothers, now with bassist-vocalist Tiran Porter and second drummer Michael Hossack, were on their way.

The band’s finest hour, in my opinion, came in 1973 with the outstanding “The Captain and Me” LP. Two tracks, “Long Train Runnin'” and “China Grove,” are permanently imbedded in everybody’s classic rock ’70s playlist, but it’s the deeper tracks that have always grabbed me. Simmons contributed “Clear as the Driven Snow” and the stunning “South City Midnight Lady,” two of the finest tunes in their catalog, and Johnston’s “Ukiah” and “The Captain and Me” bring the album to a dynamic finish.

The band adopted a three-guitar attack with the addition of Jeff “Skunk” Baxter in 1974. Baxter had been an original member of Steely Dan, but when co-founders Donald Fagen and Walter Becker decided to quit touring and become a creature of the studios, Baxter found a spot with The Doobies, bringing his adventurous, jazz-inflected chops to the mix. Drummer-singer Keith Knudsen took Hossack’s place on second drums, and this lineup cranked out two albums, 1974’s “What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits” and 1975’s “Stampede,” both making the Top Five. A trove of really fine material — “Song to See You Through,” “Spirit,” “Eyes of Silver,” “Daughter of the Sea,” “Sweet Maxine,” “Take Me In Your Arms,” “I Cheat the Hangman” — beefed up their already high-quality repertoire.

From “Vices and Habits,” the label released Johnston’s pretty “Another Park, Another Sunday” as the single, but it stalled at #32. In Virginia, a radio station started playing the single’s B-side, “Black Water,” partly because there was a real Blackwater River nearby. The song took off like the proverbial wildfire, first regionally and then nationally, and by early 1975, The Doobie Brothers had their first #1 single. Simmons’ lead vocal, sublime acoustic picking with intermittent fiddle, and the a cappella refrain “I”d like to hear some funky Dixieland, /Pretty mama, come and take me by the hand” made “Black Water” one of the most popular songs of the year.

During the 1975 tour to promote “Stampede,” Johnston began suffering from exhaustion and ulcers, and doctors advised him to stay off the road and rest. “I hadn’t quit the band,” he later stated. “I just wasn’t physically able to do it. I needed to get off the road and get away from that whole scene for a while.” In need of someone who could somehow temporarily replace their leader on stage, the band approved Baxter’s suggestion to invite occasional Steely Dan vocals contributor Michael McDonald to fill in. McDonald was hesitant at first: “They were looking for someone who could play organ and a lot of keyboards, and I was just a songwriter who dabbled at piano. More than anything, I think they were looking for a singer to fill (Johnston’s) shoes.” It proved to be a momentous decision, as we shall see.

Their contract required another album in 1976, but Johnston still wasn’t able to participate fully, so the band asked McDonald if he had any original songs to contribute. Once producer Templeman heard the demos for “It Keeps You Runnin’,” “Takin’ It To the Streets,” “Carry Me Away” and “Losin’ End,” he told the band, “You’ve got a real diamond in the rough here that you can make into something if you want to go ahead.” Everyone was reluctant to mess too much with the Doobies formula, including McDonald. “I knew the record company was panicked about any change in the band,” he said. “They were leery about getting a new guy. I was thrilled just to have the gig, but I wasn’t expecting much.”

They decided to proceed, knowing this would significantly change the band’s overall sound and image. The sessions also included three Simmons songs (co-written with Baxter) and one lone track written and sung by Johnston (“Turn It Loose”) that maintained ties to the original Doobies groove, but the label chose to release “Taking It to the Streets” as the single (and album title), so the evolution toward McDonald began.

Many older fans balked, but I liked the new blood he injected, and most critics did, too. The arrangements of the new material reflected a Steely Dan influence, which suited me fine, and McDonald’s good looks made him something of a heartthrob as well, which helped attract a new audience. He, Simmons, Porter and Knudsen were ably to credibly perform the vocals on live versions of Johnston’s older songs and, with help from the four-man horn section, The Memphis Horns (who had already chipped in on the last few albums), the band never missed a step.

I saw the “new” Doobie Brothers five times over the next five summers every time they came to town, as they were one of the tightest, most entertaining bands going. McDonald cemented his place as band leader, first by singing lead on the Motown cover “Little Darling (I Need You),” the single from the 1977 LP “Livin’ on the Fault Line,” but even more dramatically on their 1978 #1 album, “Minute By Minute,” which dominated the airwaves for the better part of 1979 and made them superstars. “What a Fool Believes,” the #1 single McDonald wrote with Kenny Loggins (who also recorded his own version), won Grammys for Song of the Year (for the composers) and Record of the Year (for the band and producer).

The rigors of touring and recording albums nearly non-stop took its toll, though, causing Hartman and Baxter to depart. They were replaced by drummer Chet McCracken and multi-instrumentalist John McFee, and the lineup was further expanded with the addition of Cornelius Bumpus on saxophone, flute, keyboards and vocals. This lineup recorded what turned out to be the last Doobies album for a decade, 1980’s “One Step Closer,” with McDonald’s “Real Love” (a #5 single) and the title song (sung by Bumpus) getting most of the airplay. They were now about as far away from a boogie biker band as they could be, with several tracks that sounded more like cool jazz (later derisively known as “yacht rock”).

When Simmons, the only constant throughout The Doobies’ career arc, started itching to leave for a solo project, and McDonald voiced similar desires, the remaining members chose to dissolve, but not until they wrapped things up with a lengthy farewell tour in 1982 that even brought Johnston back for a few special performances.

Simmons’ album “Arcade” came and went without much attention, but McDonald fared far better. He had done guest vocals on several hit records for Loggins, Christopher Cross, Nicolette Larson and others, and he continued this trend through the ’80s with the likes of James Ingram (“Yah Mo B There”), Patti Labelle (“On My Own”) and Joni Mitchell (“Good Friends”). Two of his own solo singles (“I Keep Forgettin’,” “Sweet Freedom”) went Top 10 as well. In 2003 and 2004, he put together two sterling collections of Motown covers that both went Top 20.

Nothing was heard from The Doobies until the end of the ’80s when the original lineup of Johnston, Simmons, Porter, Hartman and Hossack reunited to record “Cycles,” a surprisingly strong effort that reached the Top 20 and was reminiscent of the band’s early work. “The Doctor” was a #9 hit in 1989, and the group made a triumphant return to the road to promote the LP, which included Simmons’ “South of the Border” and a kickass cover of The Isley Brothers’ “Need a Little Taste of Love.” They tried a follow-up album, “Brotherhood,” which stiffed by comparison, although “Excited” and the single “Dangerous” had merit.

In the 30 years since, various Doobies lineups have reconvened, always with Johnston, Simmons and McFee as the core group. A 2010 LP, “World Gone Crazy,” was generally ignored, but I suggest you check out “A Brighter Day” and a remake of their very first single, “Nobody.” Five live albums have also been released capturing various lineups and eras of the band. “Live at Wolf Trap” (2014), “Live at the Greek Theater 1982” (2011) and “Live from the Beacon Theatre” (2019) all have tracks to recommend them, and some have been included on my Spotify playlist below.

Most intriguing, and beautifully executed, is “Southbound,” a 2014 release on which The Doobies, including McDonald, re-recorded some of their biggest hits with the contributions of various new-generation artists on instruments and/or vocals, including Zac Brown Band, Sara Evans, Hunter Hayes, Toby Keith, Huey Lewis, Love and Theft, Blake Shelton and Brad Paisley.

I have to rank The Doobie Brothers in my top 20 rock groups. I’ve seen them perform 10 times and I own pretty much everything they recorded, and still play their stuff often. God bless ’em, they’re still doing Zoom performances during the pandemic and are hoping to tour with McDonald in 2021. I’d buy tickets to that one, for sure.

Five years ago, as I began writing this blog, I knew that I wanted to occasionally shine a light on the hundreds of great songs from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s that have been forgotten or were never discovered. I refer to them as “lost classics,” and now, with today’s post, I have done this 25 times (!), bringing you a little insight into roughly 275 tracks from those decades of yore.

I admit I’m inclined to focus more on songs of the ’60s and ’70s than the ’80s, so I intend to fix that with this batch of tunes, which all come from the ’80s. I hope you enjoy rediscovering, or hearing for the first time, these fine selections.

“Music, sweet music, you’re the queen of my soul…”

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“Winning Ugly,” The Rolling Stones, 1986

Tensions were running high between band members — especially Mick Jagger and Keith Richards — during this mid-’80s period. Jagger had released his first solo album, “She’s the Boss,” the previous year, and Richards would form his own band X-pensive Winos the following year, two indications that neither man had his heart in the next Stones project. Not surprising, then, that most of the “Dirty Work” LP sounds formulaic and uninspired. Even the album cover art is shoddy and kind of tacky. There are exceptions, however; their cover of the Bob & Earl soul tune “Harlem Shuffle” reached the Top Five, and Ronnie Wood’s “One Hit to the Body” maintained a nice groove throughout. My candidate for lost classic here is the driving “Winning Ugly,” the strongest Rolling Stones track since “A Rock and a Hard Place” from “Steel Wheels.” Jagger sings forcefully and the guitars are mixed loud and up front, giving the track some serious horsepower.

“I’m Steppin’ Out,” John Lennon, 1980/1984

When Sean Lennon was born in 1975, John Lennon retreated from the music business to become an at-home father, perhaps in part to make up for the way he neglected his first son Julian during the Beatles’ reign. He and Yoko were recluses in their New York apartment, and John only occasionally picked up a guitar. Once Sean turned five, John decided it was time for a triumphant return, so he wrote a batch of songs, as did Yoko, and they put them together on their “Double Fantasy” LP. The album and single, “(Just Like) Starting Over,” were gradually moving up the charts when, on December 8, 1980, Lennon was assassinated by a mentally unbalanced fan. Now everyone had to have the album, but as it turned out, there were enough additional tracks to assemble a posthumous collection in 1984 called “Milk and Honey.” Yoko’s tracks could be tweaked and polished, but John’s, like “I’m Steppin’ Out,” were basically recorded rehearsals with a loose feel to them.

“Somebody Crying,” Marshall Crenshaw, 1987

A devotee of ’50s and ’60s Top 40 pop and soul tunes while growing ups in suburban Detroit, Crenshaw first found fame playing John Lennon as a part of the “Beatlemania” stage show in the 1978-1980 period. He soon embarked on his solo career, making a moderate dent in the charts with his debut album (#50) and the Top 30 single “Someday, Someway.” His somewhat nerdy look and basic roots-rock approach drew comparisons to Buddy Holly, which was just fine with him. “I’ve been a Buddy Holly fan all my life,” he said. “The joy still comes across in his music. It’s really got its own je ne sais quoi.” So does Crenshaw’s, in my view, but of his nine additional albums, only “Field Day” came close to the debut LP in chart success. His fourth LP, “Mary Jean and 9 Others,” has several great tracks you’ve never heard, including “Somebody Crying,” which showcases his penchant for intriguing chord changes to keep listeners on their toes.

“Home by the Sea/Second Home by the Sea,” Genesis, 1983

The best purveyors of art rock during the heyday of progressive rock in England, Genesis attracted a rabid following for their experimental fantasy music led by the unparalleled Peter Gabriel. From 1967 to 1975, he led the band with marvelous visuals, costumes and props, culminating in the dense storytelling of “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway.” After Gabriel’s departure, drummer Phil Collins took over on vocals, and the band continued in the same vein for a couple albums, but eventually Collins pushed them in a more pop direction that made them superstars, even if their original fan base abandoned them. I think the best of the ’80s Genesis LPs was called simply “Genesis” (1983), which included the cutesy hit “That’s All” and the much better “Taking It All Too Hard.” I prefer the 11-minute tour de force “Home By the Sea”/”Second Home By the Sea,” a real showcase for the band’s instrumental talents as well as Collins’ vocal workout.

“Don’t Pay the Ferryman,” Chris de Burgh, 1982

Depending on which British critic you ask, de Burgh is either “a master songwriter of soaring, majestic tunes” or “a pretentious bombastic art rocker dabbling in pop.” I’m familiar with only three of his 21 studio albums released between 1974 and 2016, but I would come down on the side of his proponents. In particular, the 1984 LP “Man On The Line” is quite solid, with compelling melodies and insightful lyrics. He has spent most of his life living in Ireland, and his work has been well received there and in various countries in Europe and South America, but he has had limited success in the UK or the US. He is made fun of for his treacly ballad “The Lady in Red,” a 1986 single that reached the Top Five in the US and seven other countries. Before all that, there was the rather spooky single “Don’t Pay the Ferryman,” from his 1982 album “The Getaway,” which made it to #34 in the US and is worth your attention.

“No Time for Talk,” Christopher Cross, 1983

This guy got so much success out of the gate with his 1980 self-titled debut that he ended up somewhat jinxed for the rest of his career. At the 1981 Grammys, Cross won Best New Artist, Album of the Year, Record of the Year for his #1 single “Sailing” and Song of the Year for writing “Sailing,” which marked the first time one artist won all four major awards. He followed that with “Arthur’s Theme” from the Dudley Moore film, another #1 smash hit that also won a Best Song Oscar in 1981. His second LP, 1983’s “Another Page,” did reasonably well, but he quickly fell out of favor in the MTV era. He looked more like the guy who brings the keg to the frat party than an Eighties rock star, and his music, while pretty and well produced, soon became derisively described as “yacht rock” (adult contemporary). Still, I take you back to the compelling “No Time for Talk,” the leadoff track on “Another Page,” which features Michael McDonald on harmonies.

“Cool Running,” Boz Scaggs, 1988

Here’s another talented singer-songwriter-guitarist who came from a hip rock/blues background with the early Steve Miller Band in 1968, then went solo and eventually started favoring R&B material. By 1976, with the help of studio musicians who would soon form Toto, Scaggs released “Silk Degrees,” one of the hottest, smoothest albums of the year, including “Lido Shuffle,” “It’s Over,” “We’re All Alone” (a hit for Rita Coolidge) and his own monster hit “Lowdown.” His next two LPs continued his Top Ten run (“Down Two Then Left” at #11 and “Middle Man” at #8), but curiously, he took time off from recording through most of the ’80s. From then on, Scaggs recorded sporadically in the 1990s, 2000s and 2010s, but always producing polished work. On his 1988 release, “Other Roads,” there’s a great track I love called “Cool Running,” that has the same infectious groove of his “Silk Degrees” period. His vocals and song arrangements are particularly impressive.

“Heartbeat City,” The Cars, 1984

Finding a way to merge the immediacy of the punk style and the accessibility of melodic pop was the goal of The Cars, and they struck gold from the outset in 1978. Ric Ocasek wrote and sang lead vocals on some of the most popular songs of that late ’70s-early ’80s era — “Just What I Needed,” “Let’s Go,” “Shake It Up,” “My Best Friend’s Girl,” “Let the Good Times Roll.” To my ears, the band was never better than on their fifth LP, 1984’s “Heartbeat City,” which spawned five hits, most notably “You Might Think” and the dreamy “Drive,” sung by bass player Benjamin Orr. I’ve always been partial to the wonderful groove of the title track, dominated by mesmerizing synthesizers and Ocasek’s vocals about a here-today-gone-tomorrow girl named Jacki. The band made only one more album after this one and then retired. Surprisingly, the band reunited in 2011 for a seventh LP, “Move Like This,” a worthy return to form after more than two decades away from the limelight.

“Things She Said,” Toy Matinee, 1990

This was one of those records I felt compelled to buy because I was knocked out by the single on the radio. “Last Plane Out” was superbly produced with a catchy melody and great vocals, so off I went to buy this LP by a new band called Toy Matinee. Turns out the group was the brainchild of singer-songwriter Kevin Gilbert, a multi-instrumentalist who collaborated with keyboardist Patrick Leonard to write all the songs, using session musicians to round out the lineup. Once the album was complete, Reprise Records failed to promote it, and the musicians went off to participate in other projects. Gilbert visited key radio stations on his own which resulted in regional airplay in those cities, and tried to assemble a touring band, but that went nowhere. Gilbert died in 1996 at 29 from an asphyxiation accident. My point here is that albums like this sometimes contain more hidden gems, and sure enough, you should check out “Things She Said,” one of several goodies.

“God Bless the Absentee,” Paul Simon, 1980

We all know Simon’s mega-successes, from “Bookends” and “Bridge Over Troubled Water” with Art Garfunkel in the late ’60s through his first three strong solo LPs in the ’70s, and the widely praised “Graceland”/”Rhythm of the Saints” period in the late ’80s. He also has a number of underrated, lesser known albums along the way, one of which is 1980’s “One Trick Pony,” an unusual film soundtrack to a mildly depressing movie that starred Simon himself in the leading role. He played a musician who had been on top of the charts years earlier but was now struggling to make a living as the leader of a five-man band that performed relentlessly to mostly lackluster audiences. “Late in the Evening,” the album’s hit single (#8 in the US), tells of the character’s love of rhythmic music and describes one of those nights when everything was clicking nicely. Alternately, “God Bless the Absentee” is a sad, piano-driven piece that mourns all the time spent away from the family he loves.

“Wild Heart of the Young,” Karla Bonoff, 1982

Holy smokes, I love this woman’s music! Bonoff was part of the Southern California singer-songwriter scene in the 1970s, playing and singing in a group called Bryndle with Andrew Gold, Kenny Edwards and Wendy Waldman. Each of them performed in Linda Ronstadt’s touring band and on her studio albums at various stages of her long career, and Bonoff’s songs were often featured, most notably “Someone to Lay Down Beside Me,” “Lose Again” and “If He’s Ever Near” on her “Hasten Down the Wind” LP in 1976. Bonoff recorded and released her own version of those songs on her own debut LP the following year. In 1989, Ronstadt’s duet with Aaron Neville on Bonoff’s song “All My Life” won a Grammy for Best Pop Performance by a Duo. In 1982, Bonoff had her only Top 40 hit, “Personally,” but the clincher for me is the title track from that album, “Wild Heart of the Young,” an achingly beautiful song about lost love and life’s lessons.

“When the Hangover Strikes,” Squeeze, 1982

This British new wave band rode a modestly successful career arc on the strength of solid songwriting from guitarists/vocalists Glenn Tilbrook and Chris Difford. They had several chart successes in the UK with singles like “Cool for Cats” and “Up the Junction,” and their albums broke into the Top 20 a couple times. In the US, fame took longer. Nobody was buying their first few albums, and it wasn’t until the “East Side Story” LP with its quirky tune “Tempted” (sung by short-term band member Paul Carrack) that American sales picked up. Later Squeeze albums like 1987’s “Babylon and On” spawned two songs that received decent US airplay, “Hourglass” and “853-5937.” One of my favorite tracks by Squeeze is the slow, cocktail-lounge jazz feel of “When the Hangover Strikes,” from 1982’s “Sweets From a Stranger.” It’s the perfect soundtrack to help you through those hard-to-face mornings after nights of too much drinking.

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