Deep Tracks

And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes

Posted on by brucehhackett

It was more than a century ago when President Woodrow Wilson declared the second Sunday of May to be Mother’s Day, a national holiday set aside to honor mothers, motherhood, maternal bonds and the influence of mothers in society. Mom, after all, is “the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world,” said Anna Jarvis, the Suffragette-era activist who spearheaded the move for an official Mother’s Day.

This weekend, my mother-in-law, my wife and my two daughters — a quartet of exemplary mothers — have convened in their home town of Cleveland to celebrate the holiday together. Between them, they represent 107 years of motherhood — the fierce devotion, selfless sacrifice, kind patience and unconditional love that we look for and come to expect from mothers everywhere. In recognition of their reunion, I have chosen to resurrect a favorite post (with a new wrinkle or two) that features a mixed bag of 16 songs about mothers. In genres from hard rock to country, from Top 40 pop to soul, mothers have served as a fairly frequent topic for songwriters of all kinds.

There are a few tunes about mothers that are not what you’d call heartwarming. John Lennon’s harrowing 1970 track titled simply “Mother” bemoans their distant relationship during his childhood and grieves her death when he was just a teen. On their “Synchronicity” LP, The Police also released a song called “Mother” that painted her as an inconvenience: “The telephone is ringing, /Is that my mother on the phone? /The telephone is screaming, /Won’t she leave me alone?…” Queen has a song entitled “Tie Your Mother Down” that, while thankfully not espousing bondage, is about a teen couple callously wanting to keep Mom constrained long enough for them to fool around uninterrupted.

There’s a place for such songs, I suppose, but not here, not now.

No, we’re going to turn our attention to more positive stuff, songs that generally celebrate a mother’s benign influence and knack for practical advice. My selections adopt a generally appreciative attitude toward her, some with humor, some with honor and love, and maybe with a touch of constructive criticism. I think the Spotify playlist found at the end will be well received by those who choose to play it as a soundtrack for your weekend celebration. For completists, there’s a second playlist with “honorable mention” selections.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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“Your Mother Should Know,” The Beatles, 1967

This track was one of the half-dozen Paul McCartney sing-song numbers recorded by The Beatles in their final three years that John Lennon derisively referred to as “Granny music” (songs that your grandparents would like).  Paul said he wrote it on a harmonium in his London home when Liverpool relatives were visiting, inspired by the kinds of songs they used to sing in the parlor at Christmastime. It looked good in a scene in the band’s experimental film “Magical Mystery Tour” with the foursome descending a grand staircase in white tuxedos.  Musically, it’s rather slight, but it has a nice sentiment that Dear Old Mom should love: “Let’s all get up and dance to a song that was hit before your mother was born, /Though she was born a long long time ago, Your mother should know…”

“That’s All Right Mama,” Elvis Presley, 1954

In one of his earliest recording sessions, Elvis and his combo were messing around with a speeded-up version of this old Arthur Crudup blues tune.  Producer Sam Phillips was immediately struck by it and concluded it was the “blues meets country” sound he’d been looking for, and it ended up as Presley’s first single and, many claim, one of the first rock and roll songs ever. With only minimal distribution or promotion, it didn’t chart nationally but reached #4 on local Memphis charts. Fifty years later in 2004, its re-release reached #4 in the UK. In Crudup’s lyrics, the narrator sings: “Mama she done told me, /Papa done told me too, /’Son, that gal you’re foolin’ with, /She ain’t no good for you,’ /But that’s all right, that’s all right, /That’s all right now, mama, anyway you do…”

“Mother,” Kacey Musgraves, 2018

Of the half-dozen songs I found entitled “Mother,” this recent bauble by Kacey Musgraves stands out. Less than 90 seconds long, it nevertheless packs a punch about how much we can miss our moms when we’re not with them often enough. “I was missing my mom,” Musgraves explained, “and I started thinking about the cycle of mothers and the fact that I was sitting there in Tennessee missing my mom who was sitting there in Texas missing her mom. It just goes on and on.” It’s a tender piano-based ballad, a vulnerable moment tucked into the bounty of great songs that make up “Golden Hour,” Musgrave’s triumphant 2018 Album of the Year Grammy winner.

“Mama Told Me Not to Come,” Three Dog Night, 1970

Randy Newman, one of the more celebrated songwriters and film composers of his generation, came up with this tune as part of his 1970 debut release, “12 Songs.”  He didn’t achieve much commercial success as a recording artist, but his songs often did well in the hands of others.  Three Dog Night had one of the biggest radio hits of 1970 with their version of Newman’s “Mama Told Me (Not to Come),” which features one of his typically sardonic lyrics about a guy who is uncomfortable attending drug parties and realizes he should’ve listened to his mother’s advice:  “I seen so many things I ain’t never seen before, /Don’t know what it is, I don’t wanna see no more, /Mama told me not to come, /Mama told me not to come, /She said, ‘That ain’t the way to have fun, son’…”

“Your Mama Don’t Dance,” Loggins and Messina, 1972

Jim Messina recalled his home environment this way: “My stepfather was into country. He was an Ernest Tubbs/Hank Snow kind of guy. But my mom loved Elvis, and Ricky Nelson, and R&B stuff. She was shy, though, and didn’t really dance much. So the song’s title, first line and chorus were based on that experience I had growing up in that household.” He fleshed it out with references to curfews and drive-in movies, and “Your Mama Don’t Dance” ended up reaching #4 on US pop charts in late 1972 as Loggins and Messina’s biggest chart hit: “The old folks say that you gotta end your date by ten, If you’re out on a date and you bring it home late, it’s a sin, /There just ain’t no excuse and you know you’re gonna lose, /You never win, I’ll say it again, /And it’s all because your mama don’t dance and your daddy don’t rock and roll…”

“Mama Said,” The Shirelles, 1961

The Shirelles, a New Jersey-based trio who became one of the early “girl group” successes, had several classic singles during the 1960-1963 period: “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow,” “Dedicated to the One I Love,” “Soldier Boy,” “Baby It’s You,” “Foolish Little Girl.” One of their best was “Mama Said,” written by Willie Denson and Luther Dixon, which peaked at #4 as their third consecutive Top Five hit. Its lyrics reinforced the wisdom of a mother’s warning about how young love can knock you off your feet: “I went walking the other day, /Everything was going fine, /I met a little boy named Billy Joe, /And then I almost lost my mind, /Mama said there’ll be days like this, there’ll be days like this, my mama said…” The song inspired John Lennon’s “Nobody Told Me” (1980) and Van Morrison’s “Days Like This” (1995).

“New Mama,” Stephen Stills, 1975

The testy but respectful relationship that Stills has had with compadre Neil Young over the years sometimes manifested itself in cover versions. Stills has recorded Young’s “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” and “The Loner,” and in 1975 on the “Stills” LP, he cut a faithful rendition of “New Mama,” a gentle ode to new motherhood which had appeared on Young’s 1973 album “Tonight the Night.” Stills used veterans Russ Kunkel, Lee Sklar and Joe Lala on drums, bass and percussion, respectively, with newcomer Donnie Dacus on guitar and Firefall’s Rick Roberts on vocal harmonies, ultimately beefing up the arrangement compared to Young’s stripped down original. It’s an overlooked track on an underrated album.

“Mother and Child Reunion,” Paul Simon, 1972

In 1971, eager to begin his solo career, Simon was in a Chinese restaurant in New York City one night when he was amused to see a chicken-and-egg dish on the menu creatively called Mother and Child Reunion.  “What a great song title,” he thought, and began writing a song that addressed the sometimes fickle nature of the mother-child relationship. Enamored by the strains of Jamaican reggae, he incorporated the intriguing rhythms into the song’s structure, and by early 1972, he had his first solo Top Ten hit. The lyrics describe the “strange and mournful day” when the mother (the chicken) and the child (the egg) are reunited on a dinner plate: “Though it seems strange to say, /I never been laid so low, /In such a mysterious way, /And the course of a lifetime runs over and over again…”

“Mama’s Pearl,” Jackson 5, 1970

The Jackson 5’s fifth single was originally entitled “Guess Who’s Makin’ Whoopee (With Your Girlfriend),” but the folks at Motown intervened, thinking it would be inappropriate for such overt thoughts to be coming out of 12-year-old Michael’s mouth. Producer Deke Richards rewrote a few lyrics and changed the title to “Mama’s Pearl,” and it ended up reaching #2 in early 1971. The track still retaining the lyrical idea that the boy wished his sheltered girlfriend would loosen up and move beyond the making-out stage:  “We kiss for thrills, then you draw the line, /Oh baby, /’Cause your mama told you that love ain’t right, /But don’t you know good loving is the spice of life, /Mama’s pearl, let down those curls, /Won’t you give my love a whirl, /Find what you been missing, ooh ooh now, baby…”

“Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” Willie Nelson & Waylon Jennings, 1978

In 1978, Nelson and Jennings, both seasoned veterans of country music, were each riding high with a string of #1 albums in 1975-1977. They were good friends and had performed together on occasion, so they chose to collaborate on “Waylon & Willie,” which not only sat at #1 on country album charts for three months, it reached #12 on pop charts as well. A big reason for that was the success of the single, “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” with lyrics that urged mothers everywhere to raise their children to be “doctors and lawyers and such” instead of cowboys, because “they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone, even with someone they love…”  The track appeared in a scene from the 1979 Jane Fonda-Robert Redford film “The Electric Horseman.”

“Mama Kin,” Aerosmith, 1973

Emerging from the smoky rock clubs of Boston in 1973, Aerosmith launched their career with their self-titled debut album, which flopped, stalling at #166 on US album charts. Some critics dismissed them as “a K Mart version of The Rolling Stones.” By 1976, after the triumph of their next three LPs, the debut album re-entered the charts and peaked at #21, thanks to the tardy success of “Dream On.” The first single, “Mama Kin,” never even charted but became a popular live song at Aerosmith concerts over the years. Its composer, vocalist Steven Tyler, says the lyrics are essentially about “the importance of staying in touch with your family, your roots, your ‘Mama Kin.’ Keeping in touch with mama kin means keeping in touch with the old spirits that got you there in the first place.”

“For a Thousand Mothers,” Jethro Tull, 1969

Tull’s highly praised and popular second album, 1969’s “Stand Up,” offers an eclectic smorgasbord of rock, blues, folk and jazz influences, with Ian Anderson providing the lyrics from fictional scenarios, occasionally mixed with biographical anecdotes or experiences from his personal life. Songs like “Back to the Family” and “For a Thousand Mothers” described Anderson’s relationship with his parents at the time, alternately loving and tempestuous. The latter tune took his mother and father to task for their lack of emotional support of his musical dreams: “Did you hear mother? Saying I’m wrong, but I know I’m right, /Did you hear father? Calling my name into the night, saying I’ll never be what I am now, /Telling me I’ll never find what I’ve already found, /It was they who were wrong, and for them here’s a song…”

“Mama Lion,” Crosby and Nash, 1975

In 1969-70, Graham Nash had had an intense relationship with Joni Mitchell, and they both later wrote songs about it (Joni’s “Willy” and “My Old Man,” Graham’s “Our House” and “Simple Man”). In 1972, Joni wrote “See You Sometime,” which includes the line, “I run in the woods, /I spring from the boulders like a mama lion.” As he was writing songs for “Wind on the Water,” Nash’s 1975 LP with periodic collaborator David Crosby, he came up with “Mama Lion,” which takes a sobering look at the romantic relationship’s aftermath, based on Mitchell’s earlier tune: “Mama lion, mama lion, I’m starting to sink, /Beneath the sunshine and the icicles, and the things that you think, /There’s a hole in my destiny, and I’m out on the brink, /Mama lion, mama lion…”

“Mother’s Little Helper,” The Rolling Stones, 1966

As the recreational use of mind-altering drugs like marijuana and LSD began increasing in the mid-’60s, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards couldn’t help but notice the hypocrisy of parents who criticized the practice while secretly taking amphetamines and tranquilizers to boost their energy or calm them down. They co-wrote “Mother’s Little Helper,” a phrase some moms used as code to describe their own hushed-up vice: “And though she’s not really ill, there’s a little yellow pill, she goes running for the shelter of a mother’s little helper, and it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day…” The song peaked at #8 in 1966 as The Rolling Stones’ 12th single. Richards and Brian Jones played altered 12-string guitars to mimic the sound of a sitar, one of several Indian instruments then in vogue.

“Stacy’s Mom,” Fountains of Wayne, 2003

This power pop tune from the early 2000s straddles the line between cringey and humorous. Adam Schlesinger, one of Fountain of Wayne’s two songwriters, said the song was inspired by a middle school friend of his who confessed he had a mad crush not on Schlesinger’s mom but on his grandmother! “I told him, ‘Hey, you’re stepping over the line,’ but at that point in life, I wouldn’t put it past anyone. So I tried to strike a balance between humor and personality. I was thinking about the whole Mrs. Robinson thing, and. musically, we were going for a Cars feel.” The song reached #21 on US pop charts and had a very popular music video that used comedic scenes to depict the boy’s attempts to get closer to his girlfriend’s mother.

“Tell Mama,” Etta James, 1968

Written and recorded by Clarence Carter as “Tell Daddy” in 1967, this tune was retitled “Tell Mama” for Etta James to sing when Muscle Shoals Studios producer Rick Hall took charge of the recording session. James objected at first, reluctant to be cast as an Earth Mother, “the gal you come to for comfort,” but it turned out to be her biggest hit on the US pop charts, reaching #23 (and #10 on R&B charts). Over a spirited, horn-driven arrangement, James sings about a young man who’s betrayed by his girl, after which his mother reaches out to give him some TLC: “She would embarrass you anywhere, /She’d let everybody know she didn’t care… /Tell Mama all about it, /Tell Mama what you need, /Tell Mama what you want, /And I’ll make everything all right…”

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Honorable mentions:  

“Mama Gets High,” Blood Sweat & Tears, 1971;  “Mother,” Pink Floyd, 1979;  “Crazy Mama,” J.J. Cale, 1972;  “That Was Your Mother,” Paul Simon, 1986;  “Sweet Mama,” The Allman Brothers, 1975;  “Mother,” Danzig, 1988; “Motorcycle Mama,” Neil Young and Nicolette Larson, 1978;  “Never Tell Your Mother She’s Out of Tune,” Jack Bruce, 1969; “Mother Goose,” Jethro Tull, 1971;  “Momma,” Bob Seger, 1975;  “Mother,” The Police, 1983; “Mother Nature’s Son,” The Beatles, 1968;  “Mama,” Genesis, 1983;  “Look What They’ve Done to My Song, Ma,” The New Seekers, 1970;  “Mother,” Chicago, 1971;  “Mother Freedom,” Bread, 1972; “Good Mother,” Jann Arden, 1994; “Mothers Talk,” Tears For Fears, 1985;  “Mother,” John Lennon, 1970; “Tie Your Mother Down,” Queen, 1976; “Tough Mama,” Bob Dylan, 1974;  “Mamma Mia,” ABBA, 1975.

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Like a bloodhound searching for a long lost friend

Posted on by brucehhackett

A few dozen times now, I have featured on this blog batches of songs that I have labeled “lost classics.” In this new age of AI, I thought I’d take a look at how AI defines that term:

“‘Lost classics’ are forgotten, overlooked, or out of print books (often 50+ years old) that possessed high artistic quality but failed to gain mainstream attention upon initial release.  They are deemed ‘masterpieces’ worthy of revival, frequently brought back to attention by small presses, specialized series, or literary critics. These are books that were ignored or disregarded when first published, often due to poor timing, niche subject matter, or lack of marketing. They are works with enduring quality that are rediscovered, rehabilitated, and championed by editors, authors, or small, independent publishers.” 

That’s pretty much precisely what I’ve been saying all along — with one important difference. AI chooses to use the term in reference exclusively to books, while I have been referring to music — songs and/or albums from decades ago that, in my opinion, have been hidden and neglected but are crying out for their moment in the spotlight.

I offer the dozen songs below as nuggets from the dustbin of rock music history that absolutely deserve your attention. Most of these are tunes by established artists on popular albums; they’re “deep tracks” that never got the radio exposure that would have made them better known to a wider audience. I trust that you’ll agree they merit a closer listen once you hear them on the Spotify playlist you’ll find at the end of the piece.

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“The Goodbye Look,” Donald Fagen, 1982

Steely Dan’s seven albums between 1972 and 1980 still hold up today as some of the smartest, most technically proficient and crisply produced albums in rock history.  Nearly a dozen hit singles dominated the airwaves throughout the decade, and the albums drew rave reviews and sold millions.  When wunderkinds Walter Becker and Donald Fagen complained of fatigue and burnout and parted ways in 1981, Becker went into hiding in Hawaii, but Fagen soon soldiered on alone, producing the excellent LP “The Nightfly,” which sounded pretty much like the next Steely Dan album.  While the single “I.G.Y.” got most of the attention, several other songs should’ve been hits in their own right, especially the snappy calypso track “The Goodbye Look.”

“Where to Now, St. Peter?” Elton John, 1971

At the beginning, one of the most successful songwriters of the century struggled to be noticed.  His 1969 debut album, “Empty Sky,” stiffed in the UK and wasn’t even released in the US until years later.  His second, “Elton John,” also saw sluggish sales upon its release in March 1970, but it went on to establish him in early 1971 on the strength of his signature tune, “Your Song.”  Meanwhile, his third album, “Tumbleweed Connection,” released in October 1970, was a marvelous collection of songs that evoked the American West.  It ultimately reached #5 on the US album charts but, incredibly, never produced a hit single.  Among the many excellent tracks FM radio chose to play was “Where to Now, St. Peter?,” a lovely piano-based piece in which lyricist Bernie Taupin posed the age-old question every soul asks as he approaches the pearly gates on Reckoning Day.

“Lady of the Island,” Crosby, Stills and Nash, 1969

These three exemplary musicians, pooling their talents after their departures from The Byrds, Buffalo Springfield and The Hollies, each contributed three superb tunes, and Stephen Stills (nicknamed “Captain Manyhands”) played most of the instruments and oversaw production on the astonishing “Crosby Stills & Nash” debut LP. With iconic classics like “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes,” “Marrakesh Express,” “Guinnevere,” “Wooden Ships” and “Long Time Gone,” it was easy to overlook the quiet, unassuming Graham Nash ballad “Lady of the Island.”  Accompanied only by Stills’ simple acoustic guitar plucking, Nash sang his tender melody as vocal maestro David Crosby weaved in and around him with an intricate scat counterpart.  This is SUCH a beautifully delicate song.

“The Late Great Johnny Ace,” Paul Simon, 1984

In the wake of the hugely popular Simon and Garfunkel “Live in Central Park” reunion LP of 1982, the estranged duo embarked on a US tour, then began working on what was supposed to be a new S&G studio album. But the old tensions returned, and Simon sent Garfunkel packing, turning the ten songs instead into “Hearts and Bones,” another Simon solo work. It received lukewarm reviews and fan response, perhaps a victim of changing times and preferences in mid-’80s pop music (although that would change dramatically with 1986’s “Graceland”). Buried at the end of the LP was its best track, “The Late Great Johnny Ace,” which merged Simon’s musings about the underrated ’50s rock & roller with a wistful verse overtly referencing the 1980 murder of John Lennon.  The song proceeds through several moods before concluding with a cello-driven, hymn-like elegy mourning the loss of both men.  It was debuted among the songs performed at the Central Park show, but was held off the live album, making its first appearance here.

“You Make It Easy,” James Taylor, 1975

Picture this scenario:  A married couple fight and the husband storms out, heading down to a quiet bar somewhere to drown his sorrows and ponder his next move.  At this vulnerable moment, he is approached by an alluring woman and is sorely tempted to stray, even if only for that one night…“You make it easy, yes you do, for a man to fall…”   This hidden track from James Taylor’s popular “Gorilla” album in 1975 serves up a smoldering melody and confident lead vocal, coaxed along by David Sanborn’s sexy sax solo.  The man in the lyrics of “You Make It Easy” ultimately sends the woman on her way, concluding that he has too much to lose by jeopardizing his marriage. I rank this one among the Top 15 songs in Taylor’s voluminous catalog.

“Can’t Find My Way Home,” Blind Faith, 1969

Critics and fans alike anticipated great things when Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton, each recovering from the breakup of their popular bands Traffic and Cream, joined up to form Blind Faith in the spring of 1969.  The crushing hype and expectations doomed the group from the get-go, and they split after one brief tour, but the resulting album, which was greeted curiously at first, nevertheless reached #1 on US album charts and today ranks among the finest of its era. Winwood wrote most of the songs, with “Sea of Joy” and “Had to Cry Today” getting the bulk of the FM radio airplay. Clapton weighed in with the impressive spiritual piece, “Presence of the Lord,” and drummer Ginger Baker came up with the hypnotizing “Do What You Like,” which was extended into a 16-minute jam with guitar solo, bass solo and drum solo before a bizarre coda fadeout. The real jewel of the bunch was Winwood’s gorgeous acoustic guitar song, “Can’t Find My Way Home,” which both artists have included in different arrangements in their live solo repertoires in the decades since.

“Written in Sand,” Santana, 1985

After three explosively inventive albums in the 1969-1971 period, the original lineup of Santana broke up, and leader Carlos Santana chose to work with multiple collaborators (John McLaughlin, for one) and experimented with a variety of musical styles over the next decade — jazz fusion, samba, blues — with varying degrees of success.  In 1985, following a pair of commercially successful LPs with hit singles (“Winning” and “Hold On”), the album “Beyond Appearances” seemed to fall on deaf ears, comparatively speaking.  As often happens on albums like this, there were a couple of top-shelf songs buried deep in the track listing. The one that really grabs me is the dreamy “Written in Sand,” one of the all-time best night driving songs ever. Santana’s guitar work is astonishing here.

“Can You See Him,” Batdorf and Rodney,” 1971

The singer-songwriter genre was huge in the early ’70s, with Crosby, Stills and Nash, James Taylor, Carole King, Cat Stevens, Joni Mitchell and others leading the way.  With so many acts vying for a piece of the pie, inevitably some didn’t get the attention they so richly deserved.  Perhaps the greatest of these artists was the duo of John Batdorf and Mark Rodney, who offered up some of the best harmonies, acoustic guitar work and songwriting to ever miss the charts.  Just one listen to their debut album, “Off the Shelf,” is all it should take to convince you that the record-buying audience really missed the boat by overlooking these guys.  Joyous melodies, sharp production values, delightful harmonies abound on tracks like “Oh My Surprise,” “You Are the One,” “Let Me Go,” “One Day” and “Where Were You and I.”  But nothing can touch the sheer exuberance and majesty of the six-minute masterpiece “Can You See Him,” which some FM disc jockeys were savvy enough to play.  Do yourself a favor and check out this amazing song, album, and artist.  Batdorf, by the way, continues to write and record new music 55 years later.

“Guitar and Pen,” The Who, 1978

By 1978, the best work of Pete Townshend and The Who seemed to be behind them.  The music scene had splintered into either the raw insolence of punk or the effervescent sheen of disco, neither of which had room for the power chords and arena anthems of The Who.  Townshend struggled with depression and burnout, but he continued plugging away in his home studio, relying more and more on synthesizers in his songwriting.  Critics and fans were therefore delighted by the release of the album and song “Who Are You,” which put the band right back among the premier acts in the business.  Among the underrated autobiographical tracks that dominated the album was “Guitar and Pen,” Townshend’s incisive look at the songwriter’s predicament — the frustration of writer’s block and the inability to take fragments of musical and lyrical ideas and turn them into a finished track. The arrangement and Daltrey’s vocal performance carry the day.

“Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow,” Joni Mitchell, 1975

The ethereal songstress from the Canadian prairies had been turning heads since her arrival in 1968 with incredible poem-songs like “Both Sides Now,” “The Circle Game” and “Chelsea Morning.”  She reached a commercial peak in 1974 with the shimmering “Court And Spark” LP and its hits “Help Me” and “Free Man in Paris,” followed closely by the superb live album “Miles of Aisles.”  So fans were a bit perplexed by Mitchell’s next move — a significant turn toward jazz influences with her 1975 collection, “The Hissing of Summer Lawns.”  She retained the services of saxophonist Tom Scott and his L.A. Express musicians, and wrote boldly experimental songs and arrangements that fused folk, rock and jazz in memorable ways.  Reviews were mixed, but those in the know raved about the trailblazing work she was doing on tracks like “”Shadows and Light,” “Edith and the Kingpin,” “Harry’s House” and the wonderful groove of “Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow.”

“It’s Hard to Be a Saint in the City,” Bruce Springsteen, 1973

Among the handful of artists who were saddled with the impossible-to-live-up-to label as “the new Dylan” was the scruffy, streetwise songwriter from Asbury Park, New Jersey.  His first two albums — chock full of fantastic story-songs overflowing with words and images of the hardscrabble life along the Jersey shore in the early ’70s — were met with profound indifference by the record-buying public and a cynical press skeptical of record company hype.  His incendiary live shows established his reputation as a game-changer, a restless maverick who would revitalize rock just when it needed it most.  Eventually his fans would revisit his early work, and they found the original (and better) version of “Blinded By the Light” and such diamonds as “Growin’ Up,” “For You,” “Spirit in the Night” and the amazing “It’s Hard to Be a Saint in the City,” a regular part of his concert setlist during his rise to fame.

“Let’s Go Together,” Paul Kantner/Jefferson Starship, 1970

The Jefferson Airplane started running out of gas after its Woodstock appearance and heroic 1969 album “Volunteers.”  Although a few more half-baked Airplane albums were still to come, most of its members were trying various solo and spinoff projects, including Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady’s band, Hot Tuna.  Paul Kantner, meanwhile, collaborated with Grace Slick and some of the better musicians of the Bay Area, including Casady, Jerry Garcia and David Crosby, among others, and the stunning result was a sci-fi/prog rock classic called “Blows Against the Empire,” the first album that ever included the moniker Jefferson Starship.  The LP is brimming over with utopian lyrics, engaging melodies and vocals, and strong instrumental passages, particularly on songs like “Starship,” “Have You Seen the Stars Tonite,” “A Child is Coming” and especially “Let’s Go Together,” a counterculture call to arms carried by Slick’s and Kantner’s soaring lead vocals and harmonies.

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