Sax and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll

(Reprinted from August 2017)

There’s something about the sound of a saxophone that reaches the depths of my soul.

It can be a wonderfully sexy drawl, like the dreamy part you hear in Dire Straits’ “Your Latest Trick” (1985) or Junior Walker and The All-Stars’ “What Does It Take?” (1969)

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Or it might be the greasy, frenzied solos that drive the middle break in the Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar” (1971) or Little Richard’s “Long Tall Sally” (1956).

For me, the sax has the most uncanny ability to make me stop whatever I’m doing and take a moment to groove to whatever song in which it’s featured.  It comes down to this:  If a song has a sax part in it, it’s better, sometimes way better, than it would be without it.

I mean, seriously.  Imagine Sade’s “Smooth Operator” (1984) without the sultry sax that winds its way through the entire song.  You can’t.

Although the saxophone is perhaps best known for its contributions to jazz music, there’s no question it has made an indelible mark on rock ‘n roll as well.  From the very beginning, sax and rock music have been fast friends, and it’s not hard to see why.

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Let’s consider the memorable 1978 hit “Baker Street” by Gerry Rafferty.  The talented singer-songwriter had written a great batch of songs that would comprise what became his #1 LP “City to City.”  It looked like “Baker Street” was shaping up to be the obvious single.  It would be carried by an incredibly mesmerizing guitar riff, repeated throughout the track.

Ah, but here’s where it gets interesting.  The guitar player was a couple hours late to the session, and in the meantime, sax player Raphael Ravenscroft suggested he could take a shot at the guitar part.  Rafferty shrugged and said, “Sure, why not.”  Ravenscroft lifted his sax and leaned into it, and the result sent chills down the spines of everyone in the studio.  The golden riff was clearly a sax part from then on.

“If you like an instrument that sings, play the saxophone.  At its best, it’s like the human voice.”  — Stan Getz, tenor sax great (1927-1991)

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We owe a debt of gratitude to Adolphe Sax, a Belgian instrument maker in the 1850s who saw the need for an instrument that would bridge the gap between brass (trumpets, trombones, tubas) and woodwinds (clarinets, oboes, bassoons).  His invention used a single-reed mouthpiece and a series of holes and finger-driven keys, much like the clarinet, but it was made of brass and had a bell-shaped opening that gave it a sound closer to a trumpet or French horn.  He named the instrument after his family moniker, and came up with multiple versions (sopranino, soprano, tenor, alto, baritone, bass, contrabass) to cover the range of musical notes.

Classical music — concert bands, chamber music, solo recitals, even orchestras — promptly incorporated saxophones into their instrumental mix, as did military and marching bands.  But it was the jazz combos and big bands that dominated the popular music charts in the ’20s and ’30s that truly embraced the saxophone and its potential to grab listeners emotionally.

By the 1940’s the saxophone was a well established and very popular instrument in both classical and jazz music. As the 40’s and ’50s brought more musical styles like jump blues, rhythm and blues and rock and roll, the instrument would become even more important and play a major role in the new sound.

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Charlie Parker started playing as a boy, when his mother gave him a saxophone to cheer him up after his father left. He went on to spearhead a musical revolution.

Charlie Parker is regarded as the first true pioneer of the sax, responsible for the development of bebop, characterized by fast tempos and virtuoso techniques.  He was only 34 when he died in 1955, but his influence has lived on ever since, and sax greats from John Coltrane to Kenny G have praised his groundbreaking work.

“Don’t play the saxophone.  Let it play you.” — Charlie Parker (1920-1955)

In the ’50s, the sax was prominent.  Consider songs like The Champs’ “Tequila,”  Big Jay MacNeely’s “Nervous Man Nervous” and Bill Haley and The Comets’ iconic “Rock Around the Clock” — they offered definitive proof, and then some, of how the saxophone could dominate a great rock and roll song.

This continued into the early ’60s, with tracks like Duane Eddy’s take on the fabulous “Peter Gunn” theme (by Henry Mancini, who also wrote the “Pink Panther” theme, also carried by saxophone), Darlene Love’s “Today I Met the Boy I’m Gonna Marry” and Dion’s “Runaround Sue,” featuring raging sax solos that lifted them to a higher plane.

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Curtis Amy performing with The Doors

Sixties classics like Sam the Sham and The Pharaohs’ “Wooly Bully” and Junior Walker’s “Shotgun” probably wouldn’t have been the hits they became without the amazing sax riffs that played such an integral part in their arrangements.  Even The Doors, who weren’t known for using brass or woodwinds on their recordings, used both in an exciting way on their 1969 hit “Touch Me,” featuring Curtis Amy, a longtime collaborator with Ray Charles.

Motown and Stax Records were huge proponents of using sax solos in the mix of many of the biggest soul hits of the era:  The Temptations’ “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg,” Aretha Franklin’s “Respect,” The Supremes’ “Baby Love” and The Four Tops’ “I Can’t Help Myself,” to name just a few.

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Bobby Keys and Keith Richards

The Beach Boys, The Beatles and the British Invasion bands didn’t seem to be too interested in incorporating sax into their arrangements, with minor exceptions like “Lady Madonna” (check out the alternate mix on “The Beatles Anthology 2” in particular).  The Stones turned out to be big sax devotees, prominently showing off the great Bobby Keys on their “Sticky Fingers” and “Exile on Main Street” albums (“Bitch,” “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’“), and, in the ’80s, with Sonny Rollins guesting on tracks on the “Tattoo You” LP (“Slave,” “Waiting on a Friend“).

The dense, keyboard-heavy progressive rock genre could never make room for sax, could it?  Well, yes, it could:  Check out the Ian McDonald sax solo in King Crimson’s “20th Century Schizoid Man” (1969), and you can’t overlook the phenomenal sax by Richard

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David Sanborn

Parry on the landmark Pink Floyd tracks “Money” and “Us and Them” (1973).

The rise of the singer-songwriter era in the early ’70s (James Taylor, Carole King, Jackson Browne) brought the opportunity for delicate sax solos that would embellish their mellower work.  Check out the amazing sax fills by Michael Brecker and David Sanborn on Taylor tracks like “Don’t Let Me Be Lonely Tonight” (1973) and “You Make It Easy” (1975).

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Clarence Clemons and Bruce Springsteen

Sax and rock had a major wedding when Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band showed up in 1973.  The musical and physical presence of Clarence Clemons (immortalized on the 1975 album cover of “Born to Run”) brought saxophone to the forefront, showing vividly how sax riffs could lift a regular song to supersonic levels (“Born to Run,” “Badlands,” “Prove It All Night,” “Rosalita” and so many others, especially Clarence’s tour-de-force, “Jungleland“).

“I wanted an electric train for Christmas but I got a saxophone instead.  Glad it worked out that way.”  — Clarence Clemons

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Wayne Shorter

Some of the best saxophone players of all made time for guest appearances on the works of some of rock’s most esteemed composers.  Wayne Shorter played amazing solos on the title track of Steely Dan’s “Aja” (1977) and Don Henley’s brilliant “The End of The Innocence,” (1989) and when Joni Mitchell won a Grammy for her 1994 LP, “Turbulent Indigo,” it’s no coincidence that Shorter appears on half of the songs.

Meanwhile back in the Seventies, there were sax-heavy tracks like Traffic’s “Freedom Rider” (1970) and “Low Spark of High Heeled Boys,” (1972) and “Jive, Jive, Jive” from

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David Newman

Edgar Winters’ White Trash (1971).   When the late Gregg Allman chose to release a solo disc (“Laid Back,” 1973) in the midst of The Allman Brothers’ chart success, the best track on the album, “Queen of Hearts,” included a magnificent tenor sax solo by the great David “Fathead” Newman, former sideman to Ray Charles.

“The ’70s and ’80s were awash with great tracks that featured sax:   David Bowie (“Young Americans” and “Modern Love“), Al Stewart (“Year of the Cat” and “Song on the Radio“), Men at Work (“Who Can It Be Now“), Boz Scaggs (“Georgia“), Kenny Loggins (“Whenever I Call You Friend“), Alicia Bridges (“I Love the Nightlife“), Sting (“Fortress Around Your Heart“), Bob Seger (“Old Time Rock ‘n Roll“), Whitney Houston (“I Will Always Love You“), Huey Lewis and The News (“I Want a New Drug“), John Lennon (“Whatever Gets You Through the Night“), Supertramp (“The Logical Song“), Tina Turner (“Private Dancer“), Spandau Ballet (“True“),  The Doobie Brothers (“One Step Closer“), Poco (“Heart of the Night“).

Pete Christlieb, the sax player in Johnny Carson’s “Tonight Show” band, was the anonymous (not any more) musician who played the fine sax part on “Deacon Blues,”

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Pete Christlieb

the Steely Dan track that celebrates saxophone parts above all others: “I’ll learn to work the  saxophone, I’ll play just what I feel…”  Christlieb recalls the recording session:  “I cut that part in two takes, and I was out of there in maybe a half hour.  Next thing I know, I’m hearing myself in every airport bathroom in the world.”  Christleib also played the great solo in Steely Dan’s “FM (No Static at All)” (1978) and Natalie Cole’s Grammy-winning “Unforgettable“… (1991).

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Junior Walker

Let’s not forget the very sexy sax riff that made Wham!’s “Careless Whisper” (1985) such a crowd pleaser.  And most of the reason Foreigner’s “Urgent” (1981) was such a big hit was thanks to Junior Walker’s killer guest sax solo.  R&B aficionados Daryl Hall and John Oates were also big fans of sax in their arrangements, and they used it to great effect in their early ’80s hits “Maneater” (1983) and “I Can’t Go For That (No Can Do)” (1981).

The easy-listening side of the pop music spectrum was smitten with sax sounds as well.  Listen to The Carpenters’ “Rainy Days and Mondays” (1971) and, especially, Barry Manilow’s workout with Stan Getz on “Summertime” (1987), and you’ll see how sax solos gave the songs the special ingredient they needed.

As Carole King put it in her 1975 hit “Jazzman,” the sax player (in this case, Tom Scott)

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Tom Scott

was often the key figure in the whole mix:  “Lift me, won’t you lift me above the old routine, make it nice, play it clean, jazzman… When the jazzman’s testifying, a faithless man believes, he can sing you into paradise or bring you to your knees, it’s a gospel kind of feeling, a touch of Georgia slide, a song of pure revival and a style that’s sanctified, jazzman, take my blues away, make my pain there same as yours with every change you play, oh jazzman…”  

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Ain’t nobody got time for that!

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and I ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie.  It ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings, and I ain’t lyin’…

Ain’t has been called “the most stigmatized word in the English language,” but its presence in verbal and written forms is now ubiquitous, especially in popular song lyrics, film dialogue and catch phrases.

I can still hear the Cowardly Lion in the 1939 film “The Wizard of Oz” proclaiming, “Ain’t it the truth!  Ain’t it the truth!”  In response to “Shoeless” Joe Jackson’s admission he had cheated in the 1919 World Series, a reporter forlornly said, “Say it ain’t so, Joe.”  Dozens of jazz and blues titles from the ’30s and ’40s used the term (“Ain’t Misbehavin’,” “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” “Ain’t No Grave Gonna Hold This Body Down”).  

Countless rock ‘n’ roll and R&B songs from the ’60s and ’70s made prolific use of “ain’t,” not only in the title but in the lyrics as well:  “This ain’t no party!  This ain’t no disco!  This ain’t no fooling around!”…  

In 2012, a video clip of a woman being interviewed after having escaped a fire in her Oklahoma City apartment complex went viral, especially her use of the phrase “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” 

A little linguistics lesson is in order:

The contraction for “am not” was, at one time, “amn’t,” which proved too awkward, causing people to drop the “m” and say “an’t,” which evolved into “ain’t.”  The strong proscription against ain’t in standard English has led to the misconception, expressed ironically, that “ain’t ain’t a word” or “ain’t ain’t in the dictionary.”  In fact, “ain’t” is listed in most dictionaries, including the Oxford English Dictionary, although it says it is considered slang and “should never be used in formal or written contexts.”

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary states that ain’t “is “widely disapproved as non-standard and more common in the habitual speech of the less educated.  Still, it is found throughout the English-speaking world across regions and classes and is among the most pervasive nonstandard terms in English.” 

Using “ain’t” is basically just another form of rebellion against the rules and established order.  Let’s face it, a song title like “I Ain’t Got Nobody” has so much more attitude and emotional appeal than the more grammatically correct “I Don’t Have Anybody.”  

It was a challenge to whittle down a list of more than 100 songs with “ain’t” in the title to a “baker’s dozen” to feature in this blog, which is why the “honorable mentions” paragraph at the end is so long.  The Spotify playlist at the end includes the spotlighted tracks as well as the many other runners-up. 

Ain’t it grand? 

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“Ain’t That a Shame,” Fats Domino, 1955

White artists covering black artists’ songs was common in the segregated ’50s, so although it was Domino who co-wrote this song and recorded the original version in early 1955, Pat Boone’s cover, released two months later, was the one that reached #1 on the charts.  According to some sources, Boone suggested changing the title and lyrics to “Isn’t That a Shame,” supposedly to make it more appealing to a broader audience, but he was dissuaded by his producers.  Domino thanked Boone for his rendition, which brought him significant royalties.

“Ain’t No Sunshine,” Bill Withers, 1971

Withers said he had just seen “The Days of Wine and Roses,” a 1962 film about two alcoholics who fell in and out of love because they were a bad influence on each other.  The recording included “Duck” Dunn, Al Jackson and Stephen Stills on bass, drums and guitar, with Booker T. Washington doing a gorgeous strings arrangement.  It reached #3 in the summer of 1971, launching Withers’ career.  Dozens of major artists covered it, including Michael Jackson, Tom Jones, Kenny Rogers, Buddy Guy, Tracy Chapman and Aaron Neville.  In case you were wondering:  Withers intended to write another verse to take the place of him singing “I know” 26 times, but he was persuaded to leave it be.

“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, 1967

After a half-dozen solo hits, Gaye found that he liked singing duets with female vocalists, primarily Tammi Terrell and Kim Weston.  With Terrell, he reached #19 on the pop charts in 1967 with this carefree, breezy, danceable love song that uses “ain’t” 17 times in the lyrics.  You’d never know it by listening to it, but producers Harvey Fuqua and Johnny Bristol recorded Terrell’s vocals first, then added Gaye’s parts at a later date.  In a completely different arrangement and tempo, Diana Ross recorded the tune in 1970, scoring a #1 hit in her first song as a solo artist after leaving The Supremes.  Give me the original any day.

“Ain’t She Sweet,” The Beatles, 1961

Two guys named Milton Ager and Jack Yellen wrote this song in 1927, and it became a Tin Pan Alley standard of that era.  (Little-known fact:  Ager wrote it for his daughter Shana, who grew up to become CBS political commentator Shana Alexander.) There are at least 100 recorded versions of the tune, most notably The Beatles when Pete Best was still on drums during their early years performing and recording in Hamburg, Germany.  Once the group became an international sensation, the recording was released in the U.S., where it reached #19 among the flood of Beatles product that dominated the airwaves in 1964.

“Ain’t That a Bitch,” Johnny “Guitar” Watson, 1976

Originally a jump blues singer and guitarist in the ’50s and ’60s, Watson transformed himself into a soul/funk performer in the ’70s, presenting his urban swagger in flashy fashion.  His 1976 album “Ain’t That a Bitch,” particularly its title track, have been described as “sharp and sassy, and some of the best sounding funk of all time.”  In the lyrics, Watson describes various exasperating situations and laments to no one in particular, “Ain’t that a bitch?”

“Ain’t Too Proud to Beg,” The Temptations, 1966

Motown producer-songwriter Norman Whitfield collaborated with lyricist Eddie Holland to come up with this gritty soul tune, made especially urgent by arranging it in a key just beyond Temptations lead singer David Ruffin’s range.  “He was really straining for some of those notes, which made the guy’s plea to the girl for a second chance seem more desperate,” said Whitfield.  It reached #13 on pop charts and #1 on R&B charts in 1966 and is considered one of the quintessential songs of the entire Motown catalog.  The Rolling Stones’ cover from their “It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll” album made it to #16 on the US charts in 1974.

“Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More,” The Allman Brothers Band, 1972

In the immediate aftermath of Duane Allman’s tragic death, the band grieved as it tried to decide what their path forward would be.  Their spectacular live album “At Fillmore East” had just climbed into the Top 20 on the album charts, and they concluded Duane would’ve wanted them to soldier on without him.  Brother Gregg took a blues shuffle he’d been writing and added lyrics that focused on the need to move on:  “I still had two strong legs, and even wings to fly, /And oh, I ain’t wastin’ time no more, ’cause time goes by like hurricanes…”

“Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,” Meat Loaf, 1977

The phrase that Meat Loaf and songwriter Jim Steinman used in this track from the mega-platinum hit album “Bat Out of Hell” is one of the most common usages of “ain’t.”  Steinman recalled being encouraged to write some songs with less complicated lyrics.  “I happened to be listening to the radio when the old Elvis hit ‘I Want You, I Need You, I Love You’ came on.  What I came up with instead was ‘I want you, I need you, but there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you, /Now don’t be sad, ’cause two out of three ain’t bad.’

“Ain’t No Way,” Aretha Franklin, 1968

The Queen of Soul was firing on all cylinders when she signed with Atlantic Records in early 1967 and started cranking out vibrant soul records.  When “(Sweet Sweet Baby) Since You’ve Been Gone” was released in March 1968, it became her sixth consecutive Top Ten hit on the US pop charts, and her fifth of six #1 hits on the R&B chart.  Almost as impressive was the fact that the single’s B-side, “Ain’t No Way,” reached #16 as well.  It was written by Franklin’s sister Carolyn, who sang background vocals along with the Sweet Inspirations, the girl group that included future solo artist Cissy Houston.

“It Ain’t the Meat, It’s the Motion,” Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, 1976

Written in 1951 by Henry Glover and Sad Nathan, “It Ain’t the Meat” was recorded as the bawdy B-side of the third single by the R&B vocal group The Swallows.  (Insert joke here.)  “Everybody liked that song everywhere we played it, but the radio wouldn’t touch it,” said first tenor Eddie Rich.  “We got blackballed for that.”  By the 1970s as sexual mores changed, the song was embraced by such artists as Maria Muldaur, and Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, who relished how the lyrics emphasize the importance of sexual technique over the size of the “equipment.”

“It Ain’t Me Babe,” Bob Dylan, 1964

Dylan’s 1964 LP, appropriately titled “Another Side of Bob Dylan,” put aside the social issues and protest lyrics he’d been writing in order to explore other areas of the human condition.  “It Ain’t Me Babe,” which later become a folk rock hit for The Turtles, was Dylan’s response to a woman who expected him to be “her invincible hero and all-encompassing provider,” as one writer put it.  “You say you’re looking for someone, someone who will die for you and more, but it ain’t me, babe, it ain’t me you’re looking for…”  Dylan often utilized phrasing that celebrated the common man, so”ain’t” worked better than “isn’t” here.

“He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother,” The Hollies, 1969

Songwriters Bobby Scott and Bob Russell partnered on this classic song that made use of an ancient parable about a young girl who struggled while carrying her chubby baby brother.  When asked if she could mange the challenging load, she replied, “He’s not heavy; he’s my brother.”  The songwriters chose to use the vernacular “ain’t” that had appeared in the headline of a recent newspaper column.  The Hollies recorded it in 1969 and took it to #7 on the US charts (#3 in their native England).  Neil Diamond had a Top 20 hit with his version in 1970.

“You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet,” Bachman-Turner Overdrive, 1974

Randy Bachman had the bones of a song he referred to as a “working track” that the band would use during soundchecks, utilizing riffs and chords from Dave Mason’s “Only You Know and I Know.”  It was kind of a joke, Bachman said, poking fun at his brother’s occasional stutter in the manner of The Who’s “M-m-m-my Generation.”  The producer loved it and urged the group to add it to the next album, “Not Fragile,” where it vaulted to #1 in the US and went Top Five in a dozen other countries as well, complete with the stuttering on “baby” and “nothing.”

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Honorable mention:

Ain’t No Woman (Like the One I Got),” The Four Tops, 1974;  “Ain’t Got You,” Bruce Springsteen, 1987;  “We Ain’t Got Nothin’ Yet,” The Blues Magoos, 1967;  “It Ain’t Easy,” David Bowie, 1972;  “This Ain’t a Love Song,” Bon Jovi, 1995;  “I Ain’t Gonna Stand For It,” Stevie Wonder, 1980;  “Ain’t No Need,” Buddy Guy and Junior Wells, 1970;  “You Ain’t the First,” Guns ‘N Roses, 1991;  “Say It Ain’t So,” Murray Head, 1975;  “Ain’t Nothin’ Like the Real Thing,” Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, 1966;  “Ain’t Nobody,” Rufus with Chaka Khan, 1983;  “(Ain’t That) Good News,” Sam Cooke, 1964;  “Love Ain’t For Keeping,” The Who, 1971;  “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere,” The Byrds, 1968;  “Ain’t That Loving You Baby,” Elvis Presley, 1964;  “Ain’t No Song,” James Taylor, 1974;  “Ain’t That So,” Roxy Music, 1979;  “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now,” McFadden & Whitehead, 1979;  “You Ain’t Foolin’ Me,” The Marshall Tucker Band, 1974;  “Ain’t No Need to Worry,” The Winans with Anita Baker, 1987;  “Love Ain’t No Stranger,” Whitesnake, 1984;  “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head?,” Dean Martin, 1960;  “Ain’t Talking ‘Bout Love,” Van Halen, 1978;  “Sometimes Love Just Ain’t Enough,” Patty Smyth and Don Henley, 1992;  “Ain’t That Peculiar,” Marvin Gaye, 1965;  “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore,” The Walker Brothers, 1965;  “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution,” AC/DC, 1980.      

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