Albums

In the summer of ’75, the world’s gonna come alive

Posted on by brucehhackett

For me, 1975 was a transitional year. I was finishing my sophomore year at the University of Cincinnati before transferring to Syracuse University in the fall to pursue journalism. I was also broadening my musical horizons to try other genres besides my tried-and-true blues rock and singer-songwriter acoustic.

The music business was transitory as well. Country rock was peaking, progressive rock was on its last legs, jazz fusion was making inroads, funk/R&B was stronger than ever, and both disco and punk were poised to soon have their time in the limelight.

Each spring here at Hack’s Back Pages, I like to go back into the archives of 50 years ago and review the list of several hundred albums that came out during that calendar year. Here in 2025, that means determining my picks for the best 15 albums of 1975.

I have friends who, if asked, would most likely come up with an entirely different list of 15 albums they liked better than my 15 selections. That’s okay. It’s the nature of subjective lists. Our selections are usually a factor of how old we were, who we were hanging out with, and what we were doing that particular year.

I welcome your comment and suggestions about the music you liked best from 1975.

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“Born to Run,” Bruce Springsteen

From the day it debuted in August 1975, this album has been almost universally praised as an extraordinary masterpiece, a thrilling amalgam of rock and R&B. Springsteen said the lyrics of the album’s eight songs tell the tale of one long summer day and night, full of romantic imagery, passion and desperation. He said he was inspired by the sounds and lyrical themes of 1950s icons like Roy Orbison, Duane Eddy and Elvis, and the production techniques of Phil Spector. Epic tracks like “Thunder Road,” “Jungleland,” “She’s the One,” “Night” and the title song took listeners on cinematic journeys, while more introspective tunes like “Meeting Across the River” gave us the chance to catch our breath and ruminate on coming events. Some say Springsteen never again reached the heights he achieved on this LP, and as much as I have admired much of his music since, I’m inclined to agree. For me, it’s the album of the year, and in the Top Ten of the decade.

“Blood on the Tracks,” Bob Dylan

On the strength of the phenomenal “Tangled Up in Blue” alone, this incredible album earns a place as one of Dylan’s top three LPs. But there’s so much more here: the gentle lope of “Simple Twist of Fate,” the reassuring perfection of “Shelter From the Storm,” the return to traditional folk structure on “You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go.” Although Dylan claims the songs are not autobiographical, many observers believe the lyrics sprang from turmoil in his life at the time, notably a growing estrangement from his then-wife Sara. It’s interesting to note that he recorded all ten songs in New York City in September 1974, then re-recorded them with different arrangements and other musicians in Minnesota in December, and chose five from each session for the final LP, released in January 1975. Dylan sings well on this collection, and the songs have endured and matured masterfully over the years.

“Katy Lied,” Steely Dan

This expertly crafted album, Steely Dan’s fourth overall, was the first after Donald Fagen and Walter Becker elected to stop touring and focus on creating “sonically perfect” music in the studio. The duo continued their penchant for writing concise pop songs adorned with enigmatic lyrics and brilliant instrumental fills from an array of session musicians. We get to hear Michael McDonald’s harmonies for the first time, and the virtuoso guitar of jazz great Larry Carlton, and the sharp drumming of a young Jeff Porcaro throughout. How to pick a favorite among such stunning tracks as “Chain Lightning,” “Rose Darling,” “Bad Sneakers,” “Daddy Don’t Live in That New York City No More” and “Your Gold Teeth II”? Well, you can focus on “Doctor Wu,” carried by the great Phil Woods on sax. Fagen’s lead vocals on “Katy Lied” are among the best he ever committed to vinyl, and although it wasn’t Steely Dan’s most commercially successful LP (peaking at #13), it was perhaps its most appealing.

“Young Americans,” David Bowie

The man who sold the world a hunky-dory image of himself as a space-age glam rocker named Ziggy Stardust made his first chameleon-like career change in 1975 with the release of “Young Americans,” his convincing “blue-eyed soul” LP. Suddenly, the British dude with the orange hair and lightning-bolt facial makeup became a purveyor of American black soul music, thanks in large part to the involvement of funk guitarist Carlos Alomar, a veteran cohort of James Brown and Wilson Pickett. With soulful backing vocalists and saxophonist David Sanborn in the mix, Bowie crafted a delicious R&B sound that made pop listeners sit up and take notice. The appealing title track in particular won him a broader audience, as did deeper tracks like “Win” and “Right.” He even shared the spotlight with none other than John Lennon, collaborating on a cover of his Beatles tune “Across the Universe” and one of Bowie’s biggest hits ever, the #1 single “Fame.”

“Blow By Blow,” Jeff Beck

Since emerging as the audacious new guitarist replacing Eric Clapton in The Yardbirds in the mid-’60s, Beck blazed trails with a singular sound and technique that reinvented blues guitar rock. His 1968 solo debut “Truth” created the template that Led Zeppelin capitalized on with their ’70s catalog, and his next several LPs with different musicians expanded on that genre. By 1975, he decided to concentrate on purely instrumental tracks as he dove headfirst into jazz fusion, shepherded by ex-Beatles producer George Martin, on the bold “Blow By Blow” album. This no-vocals collection of guitar workouts was decidedly non-commercial, but with the involvement of R&B god Stevie Wonder on tracks like “Thelonious” and “‘Cause We’ve Ended as Lovers,” the album was a surprise hit, reaching #4 on US album charts. Do yourself a favor and check out “Freeway Jam,” Beck’s astonishing cover of “She’s a Woman” and the eight-minute epic, “Diamond Dust.”

“Wish You Were Here,” Pink Floyd

In 1974, the members of Pink Floyd faced a dilemma: How to follow the game-changing success of their monumental “Dark Side of the Moon” LP? The answer, it seems, was to keep doing what they’d been doing. It took well over a year to write and record, but “Wish You Were Here” does a masterful job of building on their laurels with more studio wizardry and superb musicianship. They continued mining the theme of madness with “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” the epic, 25-minute piece (split into two sections) that pays tribute to their fallen founder Syd Barrett. The demands of their record label for more product was cynically described in “Have a Cigar,” and Roger Waters’s mellower acoustic side showed its face on the withering title song. David Gilmour’s stunning guitar work and droning vocals carried the day throughout, and the result was another in a series of international #1 albums.

The Hissing of Summer Lawns,” Joni Mitchell

The soprano voice, penetrating lyrics and stark acoustic music of her debut were eons away from the startling sounds that comprise “The Hissing of Summer Lawns,” Mitchell’s seventh LP. We first heard hints of her fascination with jazz chords and instruments the previous year on “Court and Spark” and the live package “Miles of Aisles,” where she was supported by sax man Tom Scott and the jazz musicians of L.A. Express. With this album, Mitchell pushed the boundaries further along on tracks like “Shadows and Light,” “The Jungle Line” and “Harry’s House/Centerpiece.” Traces of her former motif showed up in the melodic pop of “In France They Kiss on Main Street,” and on transitional work like “Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow” and “Edith and the Kingpin.” Instead of the naked confessional of “Blue” and “For the Roses,” this time around she chose to explore societal malaise and smug materialism. It was a brave evolution from a woman who would take even bigger risks with her artistry in the coming decade.

“Gorilla,” James Taylor

The “aw shucks” persona and quixotic introspection of “Sweet Baby James” and “Mud Slide Slim” had, by 1975, morphed into a more buoyant, whimsical style that dominates Taylor’s sixth LP, “Gorilla.” Most notably, his joyous cover of the Marvin Gaye classic “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)” took the charts by storm, peaking at #5 that summer. Just as sunny is the album opener, “Mexico,” and the tender tribute to his new daughter, “Sarah Maria.” Taylor was still capable of moody metaphors like “Lighthouse” and the risky temptations of “You Make It Easy,” but overall, the feeling I got from this LP was that he had temporarily shelved his depression and soul-searching for a calmer, more positive approach. His demons would return to share the space on future albums, but at this point, it was a relief to hear him celebrate life more fully. As his upbeat song “Music” states, “Just leave a happy side out loud sometime, /There’s a symphony inside you, there’s a thousand things for you to do…”

“Wind on the Water,” Crosby and Nash

These two guys — the mellower pair compared to the fiery nature of Stephen Stills and Neil Young — always intrigued and mesmerized me with the intricate harmonies and warm melodies they brought to the CSNY mix. Their initial solo musings in 1971 (Crosby’s enigmatic “If I Could Only Remember My Name” and Nash’s poignant “Songs For Beginners”) offered considerable promise, and their collaboration on 1975’s “Wind on the Water” reinforced my opinion that they were the more gifted songwriters. With James Taylor’s backing band (and Taylor himself) participating, Crosby and Nash came up with ten recordings that run the gamut from sublime (“Naked in the Rain” and “Carry Me”) to spirited (“Take the Money and Run” and “Low Down Payment”). The highlight for me has always been the closing medley that pairs Crosby’s vocal chorale “Critical Mass” with Nash’s heartbreaking ode to the whale, “Wind on the Water.”

“Fleetwood Mac,” Fleetwood Mac

Born as a British purist blues group in the late ’60s, Fleetwood Mac eventually added American singer-songwriter Bob Welch to keep them going in the 1971-1974 period. In August 1975, when a friend played me an album by “a new group called Fleetwood Mac,” I knew they certainly weren’t new, but their latest additions to the lineup — guitarist Lindsay Buckingham and singer Stevie Nicks — brought new life, new voices and new songs. The self-titled “Fleetwood Mac” LP (their tenth) eventually reached #1 and went seven times platinum on the strength of three hit singles (“Over My Head,” “Rhiannon” and “Say You Love Me”), but just as appealing were deep tracks like “I’m So Afraid,” “World Turning,” “Warm Ways” and especially the Nicks beauty “Landslide.” It was the initial salvo in a pop juggernaut that saw the band dominate the charts for the next decade. Overplayed? You bet, but you can’t deny the quality of material on this gem from 1975.

“Still Crazy After All These Years,” Paul Simon

One of the most important and influential songwriters of our time, Simon had already made a huge impact with Art Garfunkel during their phenomenal 1965-1970 run, and his first two solo works (“Paul Simon” and “There Goes Rhymin’ Simon”) were critics’ darlings with major hit singles. With his first marriage dissolving, Simon wrote a more reflective, downbeat collection of songs for his next LP, and the result was “Still Crazy After All These Years,” the Grammy winner for Album of the Year. Musically dominated by Richard Tee’s electric piano and Steve Gadd’s drums, the album is full of some of Simon’s finest moments: a gospel duet with Phoebe Snow (“Gone at Last”), a reunion with Garfunkel (“My Little Town”), a whimsical look at breaking up (“50 Ways to Leave Your Lover”) and the resignation of the passing of time (the quasi-dark title song). Add in the sobering “You’re Kind,” “Have a Good Time” and “I Do It For Your Love” and you’ve got yourself an album for the ages.

“Ambrosia,” Ambrosia

By fusing a sort of symphonic art rock with slickly produced pop reminiscent of The Beatles’ “Abbey Road,” Ambrosia came up with a debut album in 1975 that is best described as melodic progressive. Hailing from the South Bay area of L.A., singer-guitarist David Pack and singer-bassist Joe Puerta came up with an irresistible batch of songs that alternately challenged and soothed listeners. The catchy “Nice, Nice, Very Nice” used words from author Kurt Vonnegut, while the more cinematic “Holdin’ On to Yesterday” ended up reaching #17 on US pop charts. I grew fond of deeper tracks like “Make Us All Aware,” “Time Waits For No One,” “Lover Arrive” and “World Leave Me Alone” that showed off their more complex arrangements. The group would eventually jump into soft-rock waters with Top Five hits like “How Much I Feel,” “You’re the Only Woman” and “Biggest Part of Me,” but I prefer the songs found on this surprising debut.

“By Numbers,” The Who

It was probably inevitable that Pete Townshend and The Who would eventually relinquish their hold on the “loudest/best rock band” crown after the four-album dynasty of “Tommy,” “Live at Leeds,” “Who’s Next” and “Quadrophenia.” To my ears, though, the quality of their songs and performances remained strong on their next entry, “The Who By Numbers.” Townshend was rather burnt out and drinking too much at this point, and the lyrics certainly reflect that (“However Much I Booze,” “How Many Friends,” “Imagine a Man”). Said Townshend, “The songs were written with me stoned out of my brain in my living room, crying my eyes out, detached from my own work and from the whole project. I felt empty.” Strangely, the resulting music was both hauntingly beautiful and powerful, from power-chord rock (“Slip Kid,” “In a Hand or a Face”) to docile acoustic folk (“Blue, Red and Grey”). Even when feeling out of sorts, Townshend and the band still came through with a satisfying slab of vinyl.

“Minstrel in the Gallery,” Jethro Tull

Found smack in the middle of their early ’70s prog rock successes (“Aqualung,” “Thick as a Brick,” “Passion Play” and “War Child”) and their late ’70s folk-rock trilogy (“Songs From the Wood,” “Heavy Horses” and “Stormwatch”), this transitional album is one of Jethro Tull’s underrated jewels. Ian Anderson wrote more personal, introspective pieces like “One White Duck,” “Requiem” and “Grace,” which contrasted with the more bombastic “Cold Wind to Valhalla” and “Black Satin Dancer.” The highlights for me are the two tracks that include both acoustic and electric sections: “Minstrel in the Gallery,” the semi-autobiographical title song, and especially the 16-minute suite “Baker Street Muse.” Anderson’s voice and flute are in fine form, as is Martin Barre’s distinctive electric guitar. David (later Dee) Palmer came up with string arrangements for most of these tracks, giving them an air of sophistication not found on other Tull LPs.

“Red Octopus,” Jefferson Starship

Once Jefferson Airplane flew its last flight in 1972, two of its primary singer-songwriters — Paul Kantner and Grace Slick — hoped to resurrect their group as Jefferson Starship with guitarist Craig Chaquico and multi-instrumentalists David Freiberg and Pete Sears. They released “Dragon Fly” in 1974, a solid group of songs that featured “Caroline,” the lone entry by estranged band founder Marty Balin. He was persuaded to return to the fold as an official member, along with fiddlemeister Papa John Creach, for their next LP, “Red Octopus,” which ended up being the most successful album in the Airplane/Starship catalog, thanks in large part to Balin’s #3 hit “Miracles.” The LP also included great rock tunes by the other members, FM radio favorites such as “Fast Buck Freddie,” “Play on Love,” “Sweeter Than Honey” and “There Will Be Love.” It’s a thoroughly enjoyable album that combined the Starship’s commerciality with the counterculture swagger of the Airplane at its best.

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I’m sure some readers will disagree with my selections, preferring some of these “honorable mentions” below, or even a few not even singled out here at all (Rush’s “Fly By Night,” The Tubes’ debut, Bad Company’s “Straight Shooter,” Gary Wright’s “The Dream Weaver”). Sorry — can’t please everyone with these subjective lists…

Honorable mentions:

“Physical Graffiti, Led Zeppelin

“Breakaway,” Art Garfunkel

“One Of These Nights,” Eagles

“That’s the Way of the World,” Earth, Wind & Fire

“Songbird,” Jesse Colin Young

“Elite Hotel,” Emmylou Harris

“A Night at the Opera,” Queen

“Prisoner in Disguise,” Linda Ronstadt

“Dreamboat Annie,” Heart

“Face the Music,” Electric Light Orchestra

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Thankfully, not everybody was kung fu fighting

Posted on by brucehhackett

Each spring for the past six years, I have taken a look back at the albums that were released 50 years ago and done my best to select what I considered the Top 15. In 2018, sizing up the best LPs of 1968 wasn’t too difficult, because singles still ruled the roost at that point, and there simply weren’t that many superlative albums out there. That began changing in 1969, and each year since has become more and more challenging. The list of albums of 1971 in particular was an embarrassment of riches; I concluded there were upwards of 60 choices that were worthy candidates to make the Top 15 cut.

As I reviewed the roughly 350 albums released during the calendar year 1974, I realized I was going to struggle to find 15 LPs I thought were consistently superb. Frankly, it just wasn’t as great a year musically as the previous five. Sure, there were eight or ten that were easy to identify, but after that, there were a couple dozen “B”-grade choices. How to choose? Some of the year’s biggest sellers (like Marvin Hamlisch’s soundtrack to “The Sting” or Elton John’s “Caribou”) or even the Album of the Year Grammy winner (Stevie Wonder’s “Fulfillingness’ First Finale”) just didn’t light my fire, and paled when compared to the work of lesser known bands that had grabbed my attention that year.

Making “Best Of” lists has always been a subjective endeavor. What is the criteria for developing the list? Are these simply my favorites, or are they perhaps the biggest sellers, or maybe the most influential albums of that particular year?

Consequently, as is almost always the case, many (maybe most) of my readers will vociferously object to some of my selections.  You might howl in protest that one of your favorites was demoted to the “honorable mention” bin, or omitted entirely.  To that, I say:  Sorry ’bout that.  This is my blog, and I call ’em the way I see ’em.  Feel free to come up with your own list or maybe publish your own blog if you’re sufficiently motivated.

Meantime, I hope you enjoy the Spotify playlists below.  The first one features five songs from each of my Top 15 albums of 1974, while the second one includes three songs from each of the honorable mentions that didn’t quite make my list.

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“Court and Spark,” Joni Mitchell

From her modest debut LP in 1968 through her stunning 1972 album “For the Roses,” Joni Mitchell built a fanatical following (mostly women but also men like me) who were thunderstruck by her confessional lyrics and increasingly sophisticated songwriting. In early 1974, the mainstream music audience finally took notice of this unparalleled artiste through the sleek brilliance of “Court and Spark,” the highest charting record of her career (thanks to two hit singles, “Help Me” and “Free Man in Paris,” the album reached #2 on US charts). With the jazzy backing of musical pros like Tom Scott and the L.A. Express, Mitchell’s songs dipped and soared through many moods, from the raw emotion of “People’s Parties” and “The Same Situation” to the breezy rock ‘n roll of “Raised on Robbery” and the intellectual creativity of “Down to You” and “Trouble Child.”

“What Were Once Vices are Now Habits,” The Doobie Brothers

This hard-working band out of San Jose smoked so much pot in their formative days that they chose to name themselves The Doobie Brothers, and they ended up one of the most popular bands of the decade, with three vocalists, two guitarists and two drummers. Their catalog during the 1971-1975 period was evenly split between the no-nonsense rock of Tom Johnston and the more folk/country material by Patrick Simmons. Coming close on the heels of two superb albums (1972’s “Toulouse Street” and 1973’s “The Captain and Me”) came the wryly titled “What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits,” which featured the group’s first #1 single (“Black Water”). This LP is every bit as consistent as its predecessors — fine acoustic tunes like “Spirit,” “Tell Me What You Want” and “Another Park, Another Sunday”; and hard-driving rockers like “Eyes of Silver,” “Road Angel” and “Daughters of the Sea.”

“Pretzel Logic,” Steely Dan

The songwriting duo of Donald Fagen and Walter Becker had reached the Top Ten twice on their debut LP, then stretched out with longer tracks on their 1973 follow-up, “Countdown to Ecstasy.” Beginning with “Pretzel Logic,” Steely Dan ceased being a working band and became more of a studio outfit featuring as many as 20 different guitarists, keyboardists, bassists and drummers appearing on the various songs. And what infectious, well-crafted songs they were: “Parker’s Band,” “Night By Night,” “Barrytown,” “Charlie Freak,” “With a Gun” and the bluesy title track offered fascinating lyrics and Fagen’s immediately identifiable voice. I never much cared for the overplayed single “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number,” but it wasn’t for nothing that it became their highest-charting hit (#4 on US charts). As satisfying as this album is, the best of Steely Dan was yet to come.

“Mother Lode,” Loggins and Messina

In 1970, Jim Messina had left Poco and been hired as a producer at Columbia Records, where he was assigned to work with newcomer singer-songwriter Kenny Loggins. Messina contributed so much to the debut effort that it ended up being titled “Kenny Loggins with Jim Messina Sittin’ In,” and the two men became a best-selling duo over the next six years. Messina’s country rock leanings juxtaposed beautifully with the more emotional songs Loggins was writing, and by 1974, they reached what is arguably their peak on the aptly titled “Mother Lode.” Incredibly, there were no hit singles (whose fault is that?!), but track after track features brilliant musicianship and stellar vocals. Messina’s “Be Free,” “Move On” and “Changes” were memorable, but Loggins’ songs were even better, especially “Brighter Days,” “Time to Space,” “Growin'” and “Fever Dream.”

“Souvenirs,” Dan Fogelberg

Illinois-born Fogelberg got his start as a session musician and songwriter in Nashville, and the debut album he recorded there (“Home Free”) offered appealing folk rock with a strong country influence. His next move was relocating to Los Angeles, where he was taken under the wing of the great Joe Walsh, whose sharp production gave “Souvenirs” an immediate vitality in its rockers and ballads alike. Walsh played electric guitar on most tracks and brought in members of his band, The Eagles and Crosby and Nash to participate. But it was Fogelberg and his material that were the real attraction. While “Part of the Plan” was the upbeat single, “As the Raven Flies,” “Illinois” and “There’s a Place in the World for a Gambler” competed for attention. Meanwhile, softer tunes like “Song From Half Mountain,” “Changing Horses” and “Souvenirs” cemented his reputation as one of the better balladeers of the ’70s.

“Bad Company,” Bad Company

The early ’70s saw the formation of countless “supergroups” comprised of survivors of other bands who teamed up with great hopes for superstardom. Most of these failed to find the necessary personal and musical chemistry necessary to find a big audience. The exception, though, was England’s Bad Company, which brought together vocalist Paul Rodgers and drummer Simon Kirke (both formerly with Free), guitarist Mick Ralphs from Mott the Hoople and bassist Boz Burrell of King Crimson. Launched on Led Zeppelin’s new Swan Song record label, Bad Company’s self-titled debut album took the rock world by storm in 1974, reaching #1 on US album charts as the first of five Top Ten albums. “Can’t Get Enough” and “Movin’ On” were hit singles, but you could hear songs like “Ready For Love,” “Rock Steady,” “Seagull” and the moody title track all over rock radio stations that year.

“461 Ocean Boulevard,” Eric Clapton

The unrequited love that Clapton felt for George Harrison’s wife Pattie may have led to some of the most anguished blues songs in rock history (especially “Layla”), but it also sent him spiraling into heroin addiction that almost killed him in 1971-1973. With the help of friends like Pete Townshend, Clapton found recovery, and began writing more spiritual lyrics and melodies. The result was the noticeably understated LP “461 Ocean Boulevard,” named after the Miami house he rented while the album was being recorded. Low-key tunes like “Give Me Strength” and “Please Be With Me” featured Clapton on Dobro, while shimmering synthesizers highlighted “Let It Grow.” The fiery electric guitar solos Clapton had built his career on were evident only on the closing track, “Mainline Florida.” Perhaps most unexpected was his cover of Bob Marley’s reggae tune “I Shot the Sheriff,” a surprising #1 hit single.

“Feats Don’t Fail Me Now,” Little Feat

The late great guitarist/singer/songwriter Lowell George formed Little Feat in 1970 with keyboardist Bill Payne, drummer Richie Hayward and bassist Roy Estrada. Their first two albums were critically praised but failed to chart, precipitating Estrada’s departure and the arrival of second guitarist Paul Barrère, bassist Kenny Gradney and percussionist Sam Clayton, all of whom added vocals as well. This new lineup still featured George’s slide guitar and vocals, but the songs now took on a New Orleans-style funk, and their first LP, “Dixie Chicken,” attracted a wider audience. It wasn’t until the release of “Feats Don’t Fail Me Now” in 1974 that the band reached the high 30s on the US album charts, thanks to killer tracks like “Oh Atlanta,” “Rock and Roll Doctor,” “The Fan,” “Cold Cold Cold/Tripe Face Boogie” and the title song. I played the hell out of this album that year and became a huge fan from then on.

“Crime of the Century,” Supertramp

Named after the 1908 book “The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp,” this British prog-rock band was led from their founding in 1970 by two singer-songwriters, Roger Hodgson and Rick Davies, who had different backgrounds and musical influences. Hodgson had gone to boarding school and preferred pop rock, while Davies was working class and leaned toward blues and jazz. While they co-wrote a lot of the band’s catalog, they more often wrote separately, each taking lead vocals on their own songs. They first hit paydirt in 1974 with their third LP, “Crime of the Century,” a Top Five album in the UK and Canada and cracking the Top 40 in the US. Hodgson’s light, airy voice took center stage on “Dreamer” and “School,” while Davies meatier, gruff vocals carried “Bloody Well Right” and the title track. Five years later, they had an international #1 album with “Breakfast in America.”

“Slow Dancer,” Boz Scaggs

While in high school in Dallas, William “Boz” Scaggs met Steve Miller, eventually following him to San Francisco, where he joined The Steve Miller Band as its second guitarist, singer and songwriter. After two albums, Scaggs chose to go solo, and his 1969 debut LP, recorded with the famed Muscle Shoals studio musicians in Alabama, also featured a young Duane Allman on the legendary 12-minute blues track “Loan Me a Dime.” He began developing a “blue-eyed soul” sound over his next three releases, and by 1974, his LP “Slow Dancer” received broad critical praise. Motown producer/writer Johnny Bristol co-wrote much of the album with Scaggs, including standout tracks like “Angel Lady,” “You Make It So Hard,” “Hercules” and the title cut. The album gave strong hints of what was to come on his phenomenal “Silk Degrees” album in 1976.

“Walking Man,” James Taylor

I never understood why Taylor’s fifth album, “Walking Man,” was so underrated and underplayed on radio. Critics said it was “listless” and “unremarkable,” but that’s not the way I saw it upon its release in June 1974. Looking for something a little different, Taylor moved from L.A. to a New York studio, employing a different producer and a raft of new backing musicians to support his latest material. The title tune and “Let It All Fall Down” (a diatribe against then-President Nixon), both strong songs, failed to chart as singles, and although the album reached #13, it simply didn’t get the attention it deserved, which is a crying shame. I strongly urge you to check out appealing tracks like “Hello Old Friend,” “Me and My Guitar,” “Ain’t No Song,” “Rock and Roll is Music Now” and Taylor’s cover of Chuck Berry’s “The Promised Land.”

“Dragon Fly,” Jefferson Starship

Jefferson Airplane singer/songwriter/guitarist Paul Kantner, a science fiction buff, put together a remarkable “solo” record in 1970 called “Blows Against the Empire,” which was partially credited to something called Jefferson Starship (actually members of the Grateful Dead and CSNY). When the Airplane broke up a couple years later, Kantner and paramour Grace Slick decided they liked the name Jefferson Starship, recruited guitarist Craig Chaquico and others to the lineup, and released “Dragon Fly,” the first of four strong LPs that charted well in the ’70s. Songs like “Ride the Tiger,” “All Fly Away,” “Devil’s Den” and “That’s For Sure” put the spotlight on the soaring Kantner/Slick vocal blend, while the welcome surprise track “Caroline” featured the return of Airplane founder Marty Balin, who became a mainstay in the group’s lineup for the “Red Octopus,” “Spitfire” and “Earth” albums that followed.

“War Child,” Jethro Tull

After critics incorrectly labeled Tull’s 1971 LP “Aqualung” a concept album, leader Ian Anderson responded by writing “the mother of all concept albums,” the brilliant prog rock piece “Thick as a Brick,” followed in 1973 by its darker cousin, “A Passion Play,” another 45-minute song stretching out over two sides. Fans loved both, but critics pounced on the latter, calling it “difficult to absorb.” Anderson relented on the next project, returning to regular-length tracks with a more festive atmosphere. “War Child” had been envisioned as a fanciful film soundtrack, but the movie was scrapped, and ten of the 20 songs the band had recorded became the next Tull album, an accessible disc that reached #2 and spawned the lightweight single “Bungle in the Jungle.” Far better were meatier tunes like “The Third Hoorah,” “Back Door Angels,” “War Child,” “Sea Lion” and “Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day.”

“So What,” Joe Walsh

You’ve got to give Walsh a lot of credit. He was a triple threat (guitar, voice and songwriting) on the first three James Gang albums in 1969-1971, then established himself in 1972-73 as a formidable solo artist with his “Barnstorm” and “The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get” LPs. In 1974, he not only produced and made major contributions to Dan Fogelberg’s breakthrough “Souvenirs” LP (see above), but he also simultaneously used the same cast of L.A.-based musical cohorts on his third solo album “So What,” the second of three Top Ten releases. Walsh’s oeuvre was hard rock with strong melodic elements, and this album featured such career highlights as “Welcome to the Club,” “County Fair,” “Time Out,” “Falling Down” and a remake of “Turn to Stone,” first heard on the “Barnstorm” album. By 1976, Walsh became a member of The Eagles while still periodically recording popular solo discs.

“Late For the Sky,” Jackson Browne

As a songwriter, Browne was regarded as a sort of prodigy, composing quality songs like “These Days” while still in his teens. Other artists like Linda Ronstadt, Nico and Tom Rush covered Browne’s songs before he eventually won his own record deal in 1971. Right out of the gate, he found success with his debut album and its singles, “Doctor My Eyes” and “Rock Me on the Water.” The 1973 follow-up, “For Everyman,” was even better, with his own version of “Take It Easy” (a 1972 hit for The Eagles). Less than a year later, critics were falling over themselves raving about “Late For the Sky,” which offers some of the most timeless songs in his career, especially the pensive “Fountain of Sorrow” and heartbreaking ode to a lost friend, “For a Dancer.” Add the title song and the apocalyptic “Before the Deluge,” and you’ve got one of 1974’s most respected works.

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“Dave Mason,” Dave Mason; “Heart Like a Wheel,” Linda Ronstadt; “Walls and Bridges,” John Lennon; “On the Border,” The Eagles; “Living and Dying in 3/4 Time,” Jimmy Buffett; “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway,” Genesis; “Somethin’s Happening,” Peter Frampton; “Second Helping,” Lynyrd Skynyrd; “Fulfillingness’ First Finale,” Stevie Wonder; “Country Life,” Roxy Music; “Burn,” Deep Purple; “Not Fragile,” Bachman-Turner Overdrive; “Sundown,” Gordon Lightfoot; “Overnight Sensation,” Raspberries; “A New Life,” Marshall Tucker Band; “AWB,” Average White Band; “Eldorado,” Electric Light Orchestra; “Mirage,” Camel; “Bridge of Sighs,” Robin Trower.

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