If the wind is right, you can sail away and find serenity

In the late ’70s/early ’80s, there existed a commercially successful sub-genre of rock music that had been called “the West Coast sound,” or “adult-oriented rock” (AOR). Basically, it mixed pop, R&B, soul, funk, and jazz into impeccably produced radio-ready songs that emphasized melody and mellow vibes and downplayed rock’s harsher elements. “Soft rock,” some called it, although some of the songs were not ballads or even all that “soft.”

In 2005, J.D. Ryznar, a Southern California writer/director/producer who considers himself a fan of that music, became fascinated with how much of it seemed to be recorded by the same community of Los Angeles-based studio musicians. He developed a comedy video web series he dubbed “Yacht Rock,” which poked fun at what he guessed would be the music you’d hear if you frequented the marinas where the wealthy hung out sipping drinks on their yachts.

Although the songs of artists like Michael McDonald, Steely Dan, Christopher Cross, Toto and others were never referred to as “yacht rock” at the time the music was created, the moniker is now widely used, both lovingly and pejoratively, to characterize the precise, polished, sublime sounds that commanded a great deal of airplay in the 1975-1985 period.

Indeed, for almost two decades now, an Atlanta-based ensemble known as Yacht Rock Revue has been touring for up to 100 shows per year, pumping out convincing cover versions of songs that fall into the loosely defined category. I attended one of these shows in Nashville last week and found it be fun and entertaining, even if it was pretty much just a bunch of unidentified musicians operating as a competent cover band. They’re not unlike the “tribute bands” that cover songs of one specific group (like Dark Star, the famous Grateful Dead tribute band), except Yacht Rock Revue offer renditions of songs by a couple dozen different artists.

To my ears, many of the tunes played are great songs, even favorites of mine — tracks like The Doobie Brothers’ “What a Fool Believes,” Christopher Cross’s “Ride Like the Wind,” Toto’s “Hold the Line,” Kenny Loggins’s “This Is It,” Nicolette Larson’s “Lotta Love,” Boz Scaggs’s “Lowdown” and Fleetwood Mac’s “You Make Loving Fun.” Sure, they were (and still are) overplayed, but that’s really the fault of unimaginative radio programmers rather than the artists who recorded them.

Ryznar admits that the “yacht rock” phrase was meant to gently mock the non-threatening, smooth pop that served as the soundtrack for his short-lived comedy video series, but the name stuck, thanks in large part to jaded music critics who seized on it in their effort to disparage anything that didn’t rock out aggressively with shrieking vocals and shredded guitar solos.

I asked a few music-loving friends what the term “yacht rock” meant to them, and one said, “It’s music for preppy, upper-class, entitled kids (or wanna-be’s thereof) who took the easy-listening way out of having to understand what rock ‘n’ roll was all about.” Another friend added, “Think Tad and Muffy on the back deck in the harbor, dressed in casual (but expensive) Abercrombie attire, with a pitcher of margaritas.”

I beg to differ. Even Ryznar said he used the term affectionately, and those who like this style have embraced the “yacht rock” term. They sold out the Ryman Auditorium last week, as they have in most cities where Yacht Rock Revue have performed, many showing they were in on the joke by wearing captain’s hats and other nautical gear.

It’s music with strong R&B and smooth jazz influences, high production values, clean vocals and light, catchy melodies. In 2014, music writer Matt Colier identified what he feels are the key defining rules of the genre: 1) Keep it smooth, even when it grooves; 2) Keep the emotions light even when the sentiment turns sad; 3) Keep it catchy; 4) Offer the exhilaration of escape.

Bands like Toto and Steely Dan featured a very clean, precise sound that was painstakingly produced, and critics who prefer a rawer brand of rock find that pristine sound to be a negative, synonymous with “too commercial” and “lacking soul or spontaneity.” Rock and roll is meant to be rough around the edges, uncultured, with in-your-face energy and immediacy, they claim. Well, hey, I like loud, growling hard rock too, but there’s room in my music library for both.

On Sirius XM, there’s a station called Yacht Rock Radio that plays this stuff exclusively. “We celebrate the smooth-sailing soft rock from the late 70s and early 80s,” says its website. “It’s the kind of rock that doesn’t rock the boat!”

“Yacht Rock: A DOCKumentary,” released in 2024, examines the phenomenon, interviewing a variety of musicians and music industry types who, either enthusiastically or grudgingly, concede that the music in question is sonically top-shelf and melodically satisfying. Thundercat, a Grammy-winning bassist from L.A., said, “I’ve never identified it as yacht rock. I’ve always looked at it from the inside, like, ‘Dang, that’s just amazing songwriting.'”

Comedian/actor/musician Fred Armisen had this to say in the documentary: “Yacht rock, to me, is a very relaxing feeling. The singers all seem to be saying, ‘Hey it’s gonna be OK.'”

In its review of the film, Rotten Tomatoes concluded, “Retroactively dubbed “Yacht Rock” in 2005 by a parody website series, the easy listening, relaxing sounds of the late 1970s and early 1980s, which were beloved by many, came to be gently mocked and even dismissed by rock lovers and critics, but have since reclaimed their legitimate place in music history and are celebrated in this groove-infused film.”

So which artists and songs qualify as yacht rock? The boundaries are actually rather fuzzy, but you might start with Steely Dan. On albums like “The Royal Scam,” “Aja” and “Gaucho,” Donald Fagen and Walter Becker used a broad range of LA-based studio musicians to create the stylish palette they were looking for, and they were perfectionists about it, sometimes trying a half-dozen different guitarists (or drummers or keyboardists) to get just the right take.

Sometimes they used the truly professional musicians who went on to become the members of Toto, who, along with singer Michael McDonald, also guested on the recorded work of Christopher Cross, or Boz Scaggs, or James Ingram, or Nicolette Larson. It was fairly incestuous the way the same names kept popping up on these albums, but that’s because they were the “first call” session musicians most in demand at the time.

Said highly regarded guitarist Jay Graydon, “Many of these songs offered jazz chord changes, but rock/pop grooves. We’re closet jazz guys making pop records — confident, even cocky, and perfect performances every time.”

There are artists who might have a few songs that fall into the yacht rock template but the bulk of their catalog does not. People like Ambrosia, Little River Band, Pablo Cruise, Lionel Richie, Alan Parsons Project, Stephen Bishop, Art Garfunkel, Seals & Crofts, Air Supply, Phil Collins, Grover Washington, Eric Carmen, Steve Winwood and Hall & Oates have heard some of their music played on Yacht Rock Radio. Some are cool with it, but Daryl Hall, for one, took umbrage.

“It’s just R&B, with maybe some jazz in there,” he said. “Mellow R&B, smooth R&B. I don’t see what the yacht part is. It was just a fucking joke by two jerkoffs in California, and suddenly it became a genre. I never understood it. People misjudged us because they couldn’t label us. The music press always came up with all these kinds of crap labels. Soft rock, yacht rock. It’s nonsense, really.”

Toto ran into this same problem. Founders David Paich and Jeff Porcaro were seasoned studio players who formed Toto in 1977, blending rock, pop, jazz, funk, even some progressive. Their music didn’t fit easily into a single category, so critics didn’t know how to evaluate them. Ironically, their huge commercial success with tracks like “Africa” and “Rosanna” worked against them, as certain critics looked down their noses and dismissed them as “mainstream” and “anti-rock.” They were called technicians rather than legitimate artists, which were prejudices that had little to do with their actual musical performances.

There are those who label Cross’s 1979 megahit “Sailing” as the ultimate yacht rock anthem largely because of its chill nautical theme. Others say, “Anything with Michael McDonald on it qualifies.” McDonald himself finds the yacht rock designation “hilarious. It’s a bit exaggerated, but these things always have a bit of truth to them. They hit on something, and it has struck a chord for a lot of people out there who find the music nostalgic.”

My friend Paul, who has a lot of experience sailing, noted, “Yacht rock has had a bad rap because it sounds snooty and upper class, while the music is not. I think ‘Summer Breeze’ by Seals and Crofts sums it up very well.”

I’ve collected 30 songs from a variety of “yacht rock” playlists (including 15 from Yacht Rock Revue’s setlist last week) and included my own preferences in the playlist below. If you’re a yacht-rock naysayer, I’d bet good money there are at least five or six songs on this list that you admire, even if only secretly as a “guilty pleasure.”

One of my friends summed up one of the appealing things about yacht rock: “This should be your playlist of choice if you’re trying to get laid.”

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I am music, and I write the songs

Before the arrival of Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys and The Beatles, singing and songwriting were considered two distinctly separate talents.  Up until about 1960, you were pretty much one or the other, but not both.

Songwriters, by and large, accepted their place in the scheme of things, churning out catchy melodies and lyrics that someone else turned into hit singles.  In some cases, however, the songwriter nursed a dream of becoming a recording artist in his/her own right, even if that didn’t happen until years later.

Carole King is perhaps the best example of this.  Throughout the ’60s, she and husband Gerry Goffin wrote dozens of hits made famous by others — “Up on the Roof” by the Drifters, “I’m Into Something Good” by Herman’s Hermits, “The Locomotion” by Little Eva, “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” and “One Fine Day” by the Shirelles, “Pleasant Valley Sunday” by The Monkees, “(You Make Me Feel Like a) Natural Woman” by Aretha Franklin, “Hi-De-Ho” by Blood Sweat and Tears, to name just a few.

Then in 1970, King took a stab at singing, and although her debut album went unnoticed, her second was “Tapestry,” one of the biggest-selling albums of all time, and the beginning of an accomplished career as a singer.

There are some intriguing examples of hit songs from that era that were written by songwriters who hadn’t yet made their name on the charts as singers.  In the process of creating the song, the composers often recorded their own versions, either as demos or as official recordings that received little attention.  Hearing these “rough drafts” of tunes that became huge hits by others makes for fascinating listening, as the Spotify song list at the end of this blog will demonstrate.

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“I’m a Believer,” written by Neil Diamond.  Made famous by The Monkees (#1 in 1967)

Diamond, who went on to write 37 Top 40 hits, developed a passion for songwriting at age 15 growing up in Brooklyn.  He had his eye on a recording career, but meanwhile, he was happy to have his songs picked up by others.  In 1966, TV producer Don Kirshner, in charge of finding material for the new created-for-TV pop rock band The Monkees, came to Diamond and selected one of his recent compositions called “I’m a Believer,” which ended up at #1 on US pop charts for seven weeks.  Diamond recorded his own version later the same year on his “Just for You” LP, which also included his first hits “Cherry, Cherry” and “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon.” 

“Red Rubber Ball,” written by Paul Simon.  Made famous by The Cyrkle (#6 in 1966)

Simon had been writing his irresistible melodies and introspective lyrics since 1963, and had recorded one album with Art Garfunkel that went nowhere.  But when a producer added drums, bass and electric guitar to their acoustic recording of “The Sound of Silence,” it became a #1 hit in early 1966, and Simon and Garfunkel were off and running.  Meanwhile, he had written “Red Rubber Ball” with Bruce Woodley of The Seekers, and the short-lived band called The Cyrkle made it into a big hit.  S&G played it in concert occasionally, and their live recording of it appears on the 1997 collection “Old Friends.”

“One,” written by Harry Nilsson.  Made famous by Three Dog Night (#5 in 1969)

In 1968, at a time when bands wanted to (or were expected to) write their own songs, Three Dog Night went the other way, covering songs written by others, mostly struggling young songwriters who had great material.  Singer Chuck Negron heard the unknown album “Aerial Ballet” by Nilsson, which included a track called “One,” a simple, mellow song about the loneliness felt following a romantic breakup.  The band recorded a more exuberant arrangement for their debut album, and “One” became a #5 hit in 1969, the first of 15 Top 20 singles for the trio.

“Wedding Bell Blues,” written by Laura Nyro.  Made famous by The 5th Dimension (#1 in 1969)

Nyro’s original vision for “Wedding Bell Blues” was as part of a mini-suite with dramatic rhythm changes to reflect the dual themes of adoring love and frustrated lament felt by the woman who “wonders if she’ll ever see her wedding day.”  That version was turned down by her producer, but instead she recorded a more soulful arrangement and released it in 1967 on her “More Than a New Discovery” debut album.  Two years later, The 5th Dimension enjoyed a pair of hits with Nyro’s songs “Stoned Soul Picnic” and “Sweet Blindness,” so they tried a third time with their rendition of “Wedding Bell Blues” (which was very similar to Nyro’s), and it went to #1.

“Mr. Tambourine Man,” written by Bob Dylan.  Made famous by The Byrds (#1 in 1965)

By 1965, Dylan was already regarded as a songwriting genius/prophet in some circles, but he hadn’t yet made a dent on the charts as a recording artist.  That began to change when the Southern California band The Byrds used their jangly electric 12-string guitar sound and lush harmonies on a folk-rock arrangement of Dylan’s acoustic “Mr. Tambourine Man,” and The Byrds’ cover rocketed to #1.  Dylan’s version, found on his “Bringing It All Back Home” LP, has a running time of 5:34 and includes four verses; The Byrds’ version is severely truncated to 2:29, using only the second of the four verses.

“Both Sides Now,” written by Joni Mitchell.  Made famous by Judy Collins (#8 in 1968).

Judy Collins gives credit to her friend and musician Al Kooper for introducing her to the genius of Joni Mitchell, still a relative unknown at the time.  “He knew I was in the midst of recording my ‘Wildflowers’ album, and he wanted me to hear Joni’s songs, particularly ‘Both Sides Now,'” Collins wrote in her autobiography.  “Joni’s writing was magnificent.  ‘Both Sides Now’ has everything — sweep and tenderness, specificity and breadth.  It’s a perfect jewel of a song, perhaps one of the greatest songs ever written.”  Mitchell’s own version appeared on her second album, “Clouds,” in 1969.

“Wichita Lineman,” written by Jimmy Webb.  Made famous by Glen Campbell (#3 in 1968)

Webb remembers driving toward the late afternoon sun one day in Oklahoma, passing endless miles of telephone poles, until he saw the silhouette of a solitary lineman atop a pole.  “He looked like the absolute picture of loneliness,” said Webb, who put himself in the lineman’s place and wrote what has been described as “the first existential country song” and “the greatest pop song ever composed.”  Glen Campbell was the first of many artists to record “Wichita Lineman,” which charted at #3, and Webb himself finally got around to it on his 1996 album called “Ten Easy Pieces,” which also includes new arrangements of other hits he wrote like “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” “The Worst That Can Happen,” “Galveston” and “MacArthur Park.”

“Mama Told Me Not to Come,” written by Randy Newman.  Made famous by Three Dog Night (#1 in 1970)

After an early attempt as a recording artist flopped, Newman concentrated on songwriting throughout the ’60s, and his 1966 song “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today” was recorded by a dozen different singers.  That same year he wrote “Mama Told Me Not to Come” for Eric Burdon and The Animals, but it ended up an overlooked album track.  Four years later, Newman released his “12 Songs” LP, which included his piano-based rendition of the song.  Almost simultaneously, Three Dog Night’s rock/funk version raced up the charts to become one of the biggest singles of the year.

“Come and Get It,” written by Paul McCartney.  Made famous by Badfinger (#7 in 1970)

McCartney wrote several songs during the Beatles years that he gave away to others, particularly Peter & Gordon (Peter Asher was the brother of his then-girlfriend Jane Asher).  In 1969, McCartney was commissioned to write songs for “The Magic Christian” soundtrack, and in the midst of the “Abbey Road” sessions, he arrived early one day and recorded a polished demo of “Come and Get It” by himself.  Badfinger was a new band signed to the Apple label, and to help jumpstart their career, he gave them “Come and Get It,” also producing it exactly as he had recorded it on the demo.  McCartney’s original was finally released as a Beatles track on the “Anthology 3” CD in 1996.

“Red Red Wine,” written by Neil Diamond.  Made famous by UB40 (#1 in 1988)

This one has this list’s longest gestation period from composing to hit-single status.  Originally written and recorded by Diamond in 1967 on his “Just for You” LP, “Red Red Wine” was resurrected 15 years later by British pop/reggae band UB40, who released an album in 1983 of cover versions of songs by their early rock idols.  Their reggae version went to #1 in the UK but stalled at #34 here, but five years later in 1988, it was re-released in the US and went to #1 here as well.

“Stoney End,” written by Laura Nyro.  Made famous by Barbra Streisand (#6 in 1971)

Another Nyro composition that appeared on her underrated 1967 debut “More Than a New Discovery” was this upbeat number that eventually captured the attention of producer Richard Perry.  He suggested it as a featured song for Barbra Streisand’s first album of pop-rock songs, and although she initially balked at the line “I was raised on the good book Jesus” because of her Jewish faith, it ended up being the title song when released in 1971.  She took Nyro’s song to #6, her first Top Ten hit since “People” in 1964, and the beginning of an impressive run on the charts throughout the ’70s and into the ’80s.

“Me and Bobby McGee,” written by Kris Kristofferson.  Made famous by Janis Joplin (#1 in 1971)

Kris Kristofferson was an Army brat who became an accomplished pilot, an award-winning boxer and rugby player, and a Rhodes scholar at Oxford — and he left all that behind to pursue his dreams of writing music and acting.  He found his niche in Nashville, where his songs were recorded by dozens of country stars from Johnny Cash to Ray Price, but Kristofferson’s own recordings never achieved much commercial success.  He introduced one song from his debut album “Kristofferson” to his friend Janis Joplin, who decided to record a rollicking arrangement for what would become her final album, “Pearl.”  Four months after her death, Janis’s recording of “Me and Bobby McGee” was the #1 song in the country.

“All the Young Dudes,” written by David Bowie.  Made famous by Mott the Hoople (#37 in 1972)

In 1972, Bowie’s career was only just starting to take off in the US when he heard that his friends in Mott the Hoople were about to break up because of a lack of chart success.  He offered them his song “Suffragette City” from the “Ziggy Stardust” LP, but they turned him down, so instead, Bowie sat down in a London flat across from singer Ian Hunter and wrote “All the Young Dudes” specifically for them.  It went to #3 in the UK, saving the band’s career, and it became the unofficial anthem of the glam-rock era.  Bowie recorded it himself during the “Aladdin Sane” sessions but never released it until the mid-’90s on several different compilation CD sets.

“Lotta Love,” written by Neil Young. Made famous by Nicolette Larson (#8 in 1979)

Larson had sung backing vocals on Young’s “American Stars and Bars” album in 1977, and the two had become friends. One day she was driving around Malibu with him when she popped a cassette of his demos in his tape player. She praised his early take of “Lotta Love,” and Young responded, “You want it? It’s yours.” Her shimmering arrangement of it became her successful debut single in early 1979, while Young’s more stripped-down version appeared on his “Comes a Time” LP around the same time.

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I urge you to compare the composers’ and cover versions of these other hits that made my honorable mention list:

Bruce Springsteen wrote “Blinded by the Light,” “Fire,” and “Because the Night” (popularized by Manfred Mann, The Pointer Sisters and Patti Smith, respectively);  Bob Marley wrote “I Shot the Sheriff,” a #1 hit for Eric Clapton; Leon Russell wrote “This Masquerade” (a hit for George Benson) and “A Song for You” (the title song of The Carpenters’ fourth album);  Tom Waits wrote “Ol ’55,” a popular track for The Eagles;  Prince wrote “Nothing Compares 2 U” (Sinead O’Connor’s big debut) and “Manic Monday,” (a #1 smash for The Bangles);  and Bob Dylan wrote “All Along the Watchtower” (wildly reimagined by Jimi Hendrix).

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