We’re alone now and I’m singing this song for you

Compiling playlists of classic rock songs that share a given theme is one of my favorite leisure pastimes. Researching and whittling down a sizable selection of tunes into a diverse yet reasonably coherent playlist can be a fun challenge.

Songs about sleeping, driving, dancing. Songs about cars, food, money. Songs about gambling, dreaming, forgetting. Songs about fire, sex, magic.

Seems as if I’ve made lists about every topic. Wait — singing! How have I not made a playlist of songs about singing??

I’ve chosen 15 songs, mostly from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, with “sing” or “singing” in the title, followed by another 15-or-so “honorable mentions.” At the end, you’ll find my usual Spotify collection that combines them all in one 100-minute playlist to listen to as you read.

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“Sing a Song,” Earth, Wind and Fire, 1976

Written by EW&F frontman Maurice White, “Sing a Song” was the second of seven Top Ten singles the group charted in the US. As with most of the band’s repertoire, the lyrics to this effervescent tune are brimming with optimism and positive attitude, in keeping with White’s life philosophy: “When you feel down and out, sing a song, it’ll make your day, /Here’s a time to shout, sing a song, it’ll make a way, /Sometimes it’s hard to care, sing a song, it’ll make your day, /A smile so hard to bear, sing a song, it’ll make a way…”

“Sing Me Away,” Night Ranger, 1982

In the mid-’80s, Night Ranger scored five Top 20 singles and a couple of Top 20 albums as well, but their 1982 debut didn’t get the attention they were hoping for. Still, it was the infancy of MTV, and the group’s first music videos — “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me” and “Sing Me Away” — got airplay. Drummer Kelly Keagy took lead vocals on “Sing Me Away,” and it soon became a crowd pleaser during their live shows: “Sometimes I sit and I dream on for hours, sometimes my hours they turn into days, /I dream of a girl I once knew as a school boy, she is the one who could sing me away, /But she is a long ways away, and I want to be with her today…”

“And Your Bird Can Sing,” The Beatles, 1966

John Lennon said he liked the busy, twin-guitar arrangement of the music but was dismissive of the lyrics of this track from the band’s 1966 LP “Revolver.” “It’s one of my throwaways — fancy paper around an empty box,” he said in a 1980 interview. The words are certainly cryptic, and open to interpretation. Lennon’s ex-wife Cynthia claimed it was inspired by a gift she gave him of a clockwork bird inside a gilded cage, which Lennon saw as symbolic of their marriage and her failure to understand him. The song’s working title, by the way, had been “You Don’t Get Me.”

“I Shall Sing,” Van Morrison, 1970

When he was compiling tracks for use on his 1970 classic LP “Moondance,” Morrison wrote this exuberant song that, while infectious and fun, failed to make the cut for the album, but you can find it on the deluxe edition released in 2013. The vibrant horns and irrepressible beat are far more interesting than the simple lyrics, which are designed to be nothing more than, well, a singalong-type number: “I shall sing, sing my song, be it right, be it wrong, /In the night, in the day, any how, any way, I shall sing…”

“Sing, Sing, Sing,” Louis Prima, 1936

How ironic that a number entitled “Sing, Sing, Sing” is best known from its instrumental version as recorded by The Benny Goodman Orchestra in 1938, even though that outfit had the great Helen Ward as its vocalist. One of the quintessential examples of jump blues from the Swing Era, it was written and first recorded in 1936 by Louis Prima and his band, with Prima himself singing the lyrics, which are almost incidental to the musical structure and arrangement: “Sing, sing, sing, sing, everybody start to sing, /Like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah, now you’re singin’ with a swing, /Sing, sing, sing, sing, everybody start to sing, /Like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah, now you’re singin’ like everything…”

“When Smokey Sings,” ABC, 1987

The Europop dance band ABC had their biggest U.S. success with their 1987 single “When Smokey Sings.” Lead singer Martin Fry and guitarist/keyboardist Mark White co-wrote the soulful tribute to Motown singer/producer Smokey Robinson, who said in response, “Well, of course, it’s very flattering, and I really appreciate it.” The lyrics praise Robinson’s vocal delivery: “Like a bird in flight on a hot sweet night, you know you’re right just to hold her tight, /He soothes it right, makes it out of sight, and everything’s good in the world tonight, /When Smokey sings, I hear violins, /When Smokey sings, I forget everything…”

“Sing Child,” Heart, 1976

Ann and Nancy Wilson, on their own and in collaboration with guitarist Roger Fisher and bassist Steve Fossen, wrote the songs that made up Heart’s impressive 1976 debut LP, “Dreamboat Annie.” The hit singles “Magic Man” and “Crazy on You” are self-explanatory, but the deeper track “Sing Child” is less clear. To me, it sounds like they’re speaking about a songwriter who is reluctant to give voice to the tunes, deferring to others to sing them: “Sing child sing, sing child sing, /Melody maker, giver and taker, heartbreaker, /He want to sing, I know, try it again, /Sooner or later, he gonna break down and sing…”

“She Sings Songs Without Words,” Harry Chapin, 1974

Chapin was, first and foremost, a storyteller, weaving lengthy, multi-verse tales out of real and fictional characters, set to winsome melodies. On his popular “Verities and Balderdash” LP in 1974, he included the seemingly oxymoronic “She Sings Songs Without Words,” whose heroine gets her message through via her emotional presence: “The morning comes smiling and I laugh with no sound, and snuggle in silence and the sweet peace I’ve found, /And she sings the songs without words, songs that sailors and blind men and beggars have heard…”

“I Got a Right to Sing the Blues,” Sam Cooke, 1959

I won’t lie, I’m a sucker for blues and swing standards from the ’30s and ’40s. Harold Arlen, the musical brains behind the songs of “The Wizard of Oz,” teamed up with lyricist Ted Koehler in 1932 to write this marvelous tune for the Broadway musical “Earl Carroll’s Vanities.” It has since been sung by dozens of popular crooners, from Ethel Merman and Lena Horne to Louis Armstrong and Judy Garland. I’m partial to the late great Sam Cooke’s rendition from his 1959 LP “Tribute to The Lady,” a collection honoring Billie Holiday. It’s a classic tearjerker about a woman whose unhappy love life brings her nothing but woe: “A certain man in this little town keeps draggin’ my poor heart around, /All I see for me is misery, I got a right to sing the blues…”

“Sing,” Annie Lennox, 2007

I don’t typically reach up into the 2000s for tunes to feature here, but Lennox, a 1980s icon with The Eurythmics, wrote an exceptional song designed to help empower women around the globe who have no voice of their own. She enlisted the help of other women, including Madonna, to add their strong voices to the verses and chorus. One critic described the song, found on Lennox’s “Songs of Mass Destruction” album, as having “a killer hook, a big bad soul/gospel refrain, and a beat that, once it gets into the spine, will not be easily dismissed.” Here’s what the chorus preaches: “Sing, my sister, sing! Let your voice be heard, /What won’t kill you will make you strong, /Sing, my sister… sing!”

“Sing a Simple Song,” Sly and The Family Stone, 1968

When life gets you down, what do you do? Sylvester “Sly” Stewart advises, “Sing a simple song!” One of the pioneers of funk music, Sly and the Family Stone, had us up and dancing while preaching a positive message to us. The Supremes, the Temptations, even Prince and Miles Davis lined up to cover this tune from Sly’s 1968 LP “Stand!”, but the original still holds up best, with each band member taking turns singing lead vocals: “I’m livin’ livin’ livin’ life with all its ups and downs, I’m givin’ givin’ givin’ love and smilin’ at the frowns, /You’re in trouble when you find it’s hard for you to smile, a simple song might make it better for a little while…” 

“Singing All Day,” Jethro Tull, 1969/1972

In the pre-“Aqualung” years, Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson was dabbling in a broad array of songwriting styles and genres. Some songs made it onto the two studio LPs of that time, “Stand Up” and “Benefit,” while others were singles in the UK only, or left unreleased. In 1972, Tull released the double LP “Living in the Past,” which gathered a smorgasbord of material from that earlier period. The quasi-jazz structure and arrangement of “Singing All Day” always appealed to me, though the lyrics seem a tad slight, talking about “singing ’bout nothing”: “Back to the house, maybe she’ll phone me, /Singing my song, feeling so lonely, /I’ll sing very softly, so if the phone rings, I can hear it, I can hear it, singing all day, singing `bout nothing…”

“Sing Me Back Home,” Merle Haggard, 1968

The first version I heard of this sad country song was as a deep bonus track on the 2000 compilation “Hot Burritos!”, a retrospective of the four-year career of The Flying Burrito Brothers, featuring Gram Parsons, Chris Hillman and Bernie Leadon. The Grateful Dead and The Everly Brothers also recorded it, but when I saw that it had been written by legendary country artist Merle Haggard (whose rendition was one of 35 (!) singles to reach #1 on the country charts in his lengthy career), I concluded I must defer to Haggard’s pretty original recording. Such a classic country lament by a prisoner on his way to the gallows: “Sing me back home with a song I used to hear, make my old memories come alive, /Take me away and turn back the years, sing me back home before I die…”

“The Song We Were Singing,” Paul McCartney, 1997

McCartney’s involvement in the successful “Beatles Anthology” albums and video project in 1995-96 served to remind him of the high standards The Beatles set for themselves. As a solo artist, McCartney had been guilty of releasing some frankly half-assed material that didn’t measure up, but in 1997, he seemed to have been prodded into upping his game, because his “Flaming Pie” LP that year was his best in 15 years. Lots of great tunes there, including the opener, “The Song We Were Singing,” with lyrics that make me smile: “For a while, we could sit, smoke a pipe and discuss all the vast intricacies of life, /We could jaw through the night, talk about a range of subjects, anything you like, /But we always came back to the songs we were singing at any particular time…”

“Singin’ in the Rain,” John Martyn, 1971

Martyn was a British singer-songwriter who received critical praise but not much commercial success. Artists like James Taylor and America recorded his songs (“Someone” and “Head and Heart,” respectively), but his albums and singles failed to chart. Too bad, because an LP like 1971’s “Bless the Weather” is worthy of our attention. In keeping with the album’s theme, Martin chose to include a brief cover of the title song from the 1951 Gene Kelly/Debbie Reynolds classic film “Singing in the Rain.” It’s a tender treatment of the fine “make the best of it” lyrics and happy-go-lucky melody.

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Honorable mention:

All the Children Sing,” Todd Rundgren, 1978; “Let Me Sing Your Blues Away,” The Grateful Dead, 1973; “And the Singer Sings His Song,” Neil Diamond, 1969; “To Sing For You,” Donovan, 1965; “Sing For the Day,” Styx, 1976; “Gonna Sing You My Love Song,” ABBA, 1973; “Sing Another Song, Boys,” Leonard Cohen, 1971; “Lady Sings the Blues,” Billie Holiday, 1956; “Sing Your Life,” Morrissey, 1991; “Sing a Song for You,” Tim Buckley, 1969; “Sing Our Own Song,” UB40, 1986; “And the Angels Sing,” Barry Manilow, 1994; “Every Time I Sing the Blues,” Buddy Guy with Eric Clapton, 2008.

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I feel I have to mention two tunes that are essentially children’s singalongs that I find annoying, but they sold a gazillion copies and became part of early ’70s culture, so I grudgingly list them here:

Sing,” The Carpenters, 1973; “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing,” The New Seekers, 1971

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I’m been in the studio all day and night

I remember one day in 1975 when I went to a friend’s house to hear some new albums played through a state-of-the-art sound system.  “This is going to totally blow you away,” he said, as he lowered the needle on the last track of Queen’s new album, “A Night at the Opera,” an ambitious little number called “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

The sound seemed to explode from the speakers.  The lush harmonies, Freddie Mercury’s powerful lead vocals, the quasi-classical piano, the “Galileo/Magnifico” operatic portion, Brian May’s hard rock guitar solo — all of it sounded like it was right there in the room with me.  “Holy crap,” I said, “the production is spectacular!  How do they get it to sound so damn good?”

While the members of Queen deserve plenty of credit, the man chiefly responsible for the crystal-clear sound quality was producer Roy Thomas Baker, one of the titans of the recording studio in the ’70s, ’80s and beyond.  He was a true innovator whose work includes some of the most successful albums of the era.

So what exactly is a record producer?  What does he do?

That’s a loaded question, because he may wear many different hats, depending on the circumstances of the recording session.

In the industry’s early years, different professionals worked for the major record labels, carrying out the various tasks that made up the recording process.  Beginning in the 1950s with the advent of the independent commercial studios, entrepreneurial producers created and occupied a new layer in the industry, taking on a role in the musical process that was more direct yet also more multi-faceted.

Depending on his clout and level of influence, the producer might handle any number of functions.  He may identify up-and-coming artists, select songs, choose musicians, suggest arrangements, coach artists in the studio, control the recording process, and sometimes supervise the post-recording phases of mixing and mastering.  Some may take on broader roles such as scheduling, budgeting, even contract negotiations.

“A producer creatively guides the process of making a record,” summarizes Phil Ek, producer of current indie bands like The Shins, Modest Mouse and Fleet Foxes.  “Basically, his job is to create, shape and mold a piece of music, whether it’s one track or a whole album.”

Perhaps even more important, though, is this key role:  “A producer should be a psychologist,” noted Marc Tanner, producer of albums for Nelson and The Calling, as well as numerous film soundtrack LPs.  “He’s typically working with bands and artists with big egos who think they know everything, so when the producer has an idea and wants to steer things in a certain direction, he needs to make them think it was their idea.  And that’s a tricky thing.”

The producer also needs to know who’s really in charge.  If a musical giant like Paul McCartney is making a new record, clearly he’s going to have the final say-so.  When an industry mogul with the power of a Clive Davis is involved, nothing’s getting released without his stamp of approval.  In some cases, though, the producer himself is the one who holds the most sway, and he can then operate differently, knowing he won’t be second-guessed.

The best producers, naturally, are those whose reputations precede them.  The track record speaks for itself and makes them the most sought after in the business.  They may be pleasant or gruff, but they’re known for getting the best work from their artists.

Let’s take a look at my subjective list of the top dozen rock music producers of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s.  In my view, they’re the ones who developed innovative recording techniques, used them to maximum effectiveness, and brought out the very best in the artists they were producing.

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George Martin (center) with the Beatles recording “All You Need is Love”

At the top of the list is George Martin, whose work with The Beatles put him in a category by himself.  He and his talented engineer Geoff Emerick came up with wildly creative ideas and methods to conjure up the sounds John Lennon and Paul McCartney envisioned (in a time before computers and their ability to produce sounds by simply pressing a button).  Martin also knew, as The Beatles learned the recording process and became more adept at executing it, to defer to their wishes and get out of their way when the situation warranted. Martin later worked with McCartney on his solo career, and also with Jeff Beck, Kenny Rogers, Elton John and America, among many others.

Quincy Jones

In both quantity and quality, Quincy Jones qualifies as a god of record producing.  With 28 Grammys on his mantelpiece and more than 80 nominations, he is the most celebrated producer ever.  He’s been a conductor, arranger and composer for everyone from Lesley Gore to Frank Sinatra in the ’60s, from George Benson to the Brothers Johnson in the ’70s, and Miles Davis’s final LP in 1991.  Most notably, he’s the producer of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” the best-selling album of all time, as well as Jackson’s “Off the Wall” and “Bad,” and the single “We Are the World,” on which he had to juggle the egos of two dozen rock stars in the same studio.

Phil Spector (far right) ruling the roost in the studio

The late Phil Spector may be in better known for his second-degree murder conviction and sketchy mental state, but that doesn’t diminish the astonishing advancements he made in the field of record production.  His famous “Wall of Sound” technique — in which he used multiple guitarists, keyboardists, drummers, horns and strings to create an all-enveloping sound on record — was one of the most ingenious innovations in the history of sound production.  Designed to enhance the sound coming from AM radios and jukeboxes of the 1960s, Spector’s Wall of Sound took the material being recorded by girl groups like The Ronettes and the Crystals and duos like The Righteous Brothers and made them sound like dense mini-symphonies. He did the same thing later with George Harrison, John Lennon and The Ramones.

Tom Dowd (center) with Dickey Betts (left) and Duane Allman (right)

Among the influential developments that producer Tom Dowd came up with in the 1960s were multi-track recording and methods for altering sound after the initial recording. He has a long and impressive resumé of production credits with some of the giants, including: every album by The Allman Brothers Band; Eric Clapton (“Layla” and “461 Ocean Boulevard”); Rod Stewart (“A Night on the Town” and “Blondes Have More Fun”); Kenny Loggins (“Keep the Fire”); Dr. John (“Remedies”); Wilson Pickett (“Hey Jude” and “Right On”); Bobby Darin (“Mack the Knife”); Lynyrd Skynyrd (“Gimme Back My Bullets”); and jazz legends John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk.

Glyn Johns (center) with Paul McCartney and Mick Jagger

From the mid-’60s right up through the 2010s, Glyn Johns has been at the helm of some of the biggest bands and best albums in rock.  He produced every Rolling Stones album from 1963 through 1975, encompassing the group’s very best work.  He engineered and mixed the incredible debut LP by Led Zeppelin.  He worked on The Beatles’ “Let It Be” album.  He produced multiple projects for Steve Miller Band and Boz Scaggs.  He was producer for the first two Eagles releases.  He worked with Pete Townshend to produce “Who’s Next,” arguably their finest LP and one of the best sounding records ever made.  He also produced “Who Are You” and “By Numbers,” two by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils and Humble Pie, “Combat Rock” for The Clash, and Clapton’s “Slowhand” and his 2016 release “I Still Do.”

“Mutt” Lange with ex-wife Shania Twain

John Robert “Mutt” Lange, another innovator in multi-track recording, has been a hugely influential rock music producer, responsible for the superlative production on such chart-toppers as AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” and “Back in Black”; Def Leppard’s “High ‘n Dry,” “Pyromania” and “Hysteria”; Foreigner’s “4”; The Cars’ “Heartbeat City”; and albums for Bryan Adams and Huey Lewis & The News.  In 1997, he produced “Come On Over” for his then-wife Shania Twain, which is one of the best selling country albums of all time.

Albhy Galuten (center) with Barry Gibb (right)

The phenomenal sound production you hear on The Bee Gees’ best known songs is the work of Albhy Galuten, who also produced albums by Barbra Streisand, Diana Ross, Kenny Rogers, Eric Clapton and Olivia Newton-John.  He was at the helm of the mega-platinum soundtrack album of “Saturday Night Fever” and Franki Valli’s theme song to “Grease.”  Galuten is a true sound technician who holds several technological patents in the digital age and has served as a chief tech executive at Sony and Universal.

Peter Asher

Take another listen to James Taylor’s “Mud Slide Slim,” “One Man Dog” and “JT”, and to every Linda Ronstadt album from “Heart Like a Wheel” through “Cry Like a Rainstorm.”  They all sound fabulous due to producer Peter Asher‘s savvy in the studio.  He was one of the few who capably served the dual producer/manager role, and Taylor and Ronstadt were the clear beneficiaries.  He won Grammys for Producer of the Year in 1977 and 1989 for his work on their albums.  Asher also produced key records for Bonnie Raitt, Andrew Gold, 10,000 Maniacs, Cher and J.D. Souther.

Jack Douglas

Vocalist Steven Tyler has credited producer Jack Douglas with being “the unofficial sixth member of Aerosmith.”  He brought out the best in a very rowdy band on their hugely successful ’70s records — “Get Your Wings,” “Toys in the Attic,” “Rocks” and “Draw the Line.”  And it was Douglas at the soundboard controls when John Lennon returned to the studio in 1980 after a five-year sabbatical to record the songs that comprised the “Double Fantasy” and “Milk and Honey” LPs.  He also produced records for Cheap Trick, Montrose, Alice Cooper and Slash.

Roy Thomas Baker (lower left) with Queen

Roy Thomas Baker, mentioned at the top of this essay, was at the helm for such classic albums as Queen’s “II,” “Sheer Heart Attack,” “A Night at the Opera” and “Jazz”;  The Cars’ debut LP, “Candy-O” and “Shake It Up”;  Journey’s “Infinity” and “Evolution”;  Free’s “Fire and Water”; Foreigner’s “Head Games”; Ozzy Osbourne’s “The Ozzman Cometh”; and the soundtrack LPs to “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” and “Wayne’s World.”

Bob Clearmountain

I’ve been fortunate enough to meet and watch the great producer/mixing engineer Bob Clearmountain at work in his home studio just down the road from me in Pacific Palisades. He has worked on many dozens of classic albums by artists including Bruce Springsteen (“Born in the USA”), The Stones (“Tattoo You”), David Bowie (“Let’s Dance”), Bryan Adams (“Cuts Like a Knife”), Roxy Music (“Avalon”), Simple Minds (“Once Upon a Time”) and Crowded House (“Woodface”). Not coincidentally, these LPs are among the best sounding albums in each artists’ careers.

Gary Katz

Gary Katz gets a nod of appreciation for the incredible results he got working with Donald Fagen and Walter Becker and a host of session musicians on the records of Steely Dan. At first they were just a six-man band, but five of their seven albums saw the songwriters in search of evermore-pristine production values, and Katz was instrumental in helping the artists find that near-perfection, especially on “Aja” and “Gaucho.” Katz also produced albums for Diana Ross, 10cc and Joe Cocker.

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Honorable mentions go to a few other talented producers: Daniel Lanois, who steered the ship on multiple LPs by U2 (“The Joshua Tree,” “Aching Baby”), Peter Gabriel (“So”) and Bob Dylan (“Oh Mercy,” “Time Out of Mind”); Bill Szymczyk, the man behind the sound for every album by The Eagles beginning with “On the Border,” the first three LPs by The James Gang, Joe Walsh’s “The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get,” Bob Seger’s “Against the Wind,” B.B. King’s “Completely Well” and Michael Stanley’s “Friends and Legends”; and Eddie Offord, who specialized in progressive rock records by Yes (“The Yes Album,” “Fragile,” “Close to the Edge,” “Relayer”) and Emerson, Lake and Palmer (“ELP,” “Tarkus,” “Trilogy”).

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In the realm of record production, there are many artists who have taken on the producer role for their own albums.  Baker had this to say about that:  “All artists, I think, would like to produce their own records.  To me, it’s like someone trying to be their own lawyer in court.  Even if you are a lawyer, everyone knows you shouldn’t do it.  Artists should never produce themselves.  They still need someone else around to make sure they get the best out of themselves, because you can’t be two places at once.”

There are always exceptions to the rule.  Self-professed “studio nerds” like Frank Zappa, Led Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page, Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson and ELO’s Jeff Lynne are listed as producer on nearly all of their albums.  Bob Dylan produced many of his works from 1975 on, and Pink Floyd — as a group — are listed as producer on their LPs.

Most notable, I think, are these two examples:

Brian Wilson was not only composer, singer and bassist for The Beach Boys, but became their sole producer beginning in 1963 when recording studios were still extremely basic.  But Wilson had an extraordinary ability to hear sounds in his head — in many cases, fully formed songs — which he diligently, and successfully, worked to transfer to tape.  All those amazing Beach Boys hits, culminating in “Good Vibrations” and “God Only Knows” from the “Pet Sounds” album, sound as stunning as they do because of Wilson’s producing talent.

Todd Rundgren, who took on the artist/producer dual role from the very beginning of his career in 1970, was, as his album title suggests, “a wizard, a true star.”  He has successfully experimented with new equipment, new techniques and new approaches to album production ever since, and it has served him well.  A number of other artists took notice early on, and tapped Rundgren to produce their albums:  Grand Funk (“We’re an American Band”), Hall & Oates (“War Babies”), Badfinger (“Straight Up”), The Tubes (“Remote Control”), The Band (“Stage Fright”), the New York Dolls debut, and most successfully, Meat Loaf (“Bat Out of Hell”).

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