Deep Tracks

Songs to see you through the end of summer

Posted on by brucehhackett

As summer winds down, I’m feeling a little wistful, a little relaxed, and my deep dive into “lost classics” of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s is consequently leaning toward the mellower choices this time around.

The rockers among my readers may fail to recognize some of these selections, or even the artists who recorded them. But that’s the fun of lost classics — even though they were recorded 50+ years ago, sometimes they’re brand-new songs to you because they came in under your radar at the time.

I hope you find these tunes to your liking.

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“Tell Me What You Want,” The Doobie Brothers, 1974

I think it’s safe to say that every album The Doobies released has at least one “lost classic” — a deep track that got little airplay but is still well worth our time and attention.  The band’s fourth LP, “What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits,” will forever be known for its first #1 hit, “Black Water,” and the minor single “Eyes of Silver,” but there are about a half-dozen other strong tunes to explore.  I’ve always enjoyed Pat Simmons’ engaging, mostly acoustic “Tell Me What You Want,” featuring the sweet pedal-steel work of Jeff “Skunk” Baxter in the outro.  Baxter was then still a full-time member of Steely Dan, but as that group evolved into a duo with multiple guest musicians, he would soon make the jump to join The Doobies’ lineup.

“You’re Only Lonely,” J.D. Souther, 1979

If the lush harmonies you hear throughout this soothing track sound like those of The Eagles, that’s because the voices belong to Glenn Frey, Don Henley and Don Felder, plus Jackson Browne and Phil Everly for good measure.  These gents were happy to help their friend John David Souther on his 1979 solo LP because he was an honorary Eagle, having co-written such hits as “Best of My Love,” “New Kid in Town” and “Heartache Tonight.”  (He also co-wrote and co-sang “Her Town Too” with James Taylor in 1981.)  “You’re Only Lonely” — a tribute of sorts to Roy Orbison’s 1960 classic, “Only the Lonely” — reached an impressive #7 on the US pop chart at a time when disco and New Wave were dominant.

“Still Believe,” Michael Tomlinson, 1987

Tomlinson came up out of the Austin, Texas, music scene in the mid-’80s, offering a pleasing acoustic style that caught the attention of certain radio program directors, particularly “relaxing radio” like The Wave. That’s where my friend Mark first heard Tomlinson’s song “All is Clear,” prompting him to buy his 1989 LP, “Face Up in the Rain,” and also his earlier album, “Still Believe.” I borrowed these records and enjoyed several standout tracks, most notably the positivism behind the lyrics of “Still Believe.” Tomlinson grew frustrated with record labels and corporate takeovers of radio stations and chose to withdraw from the business, but he later established his own private label and continues to write and record new music.

“It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way,” Jim Croce, 1973

Croce’s story is such a sad one, ending prematurely in a plane crash just as his years of hard work were beginning to pay off.  After two hits in 1972 (“You Don’t Mess Around With Jim” and “Operator”) and a #1 hit in the summer of 1973 (“Bad, Bad Leroy Brown”), he was poised to join the top ranks of singer songwriters with his album and title song (“I Got a Name”) until fate intervened.  Several posthumous singles were released — “Time in a Bottle” (another #1), the #9 hit “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song” and, one of my favorites in his catalog, the poignant “It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way,” with Christmas-flavored lyrics and even the use of handbells.

“The Euphrates,” Seals and Crofts, 1972

I remember being so knocked out by this duo’s first hit, “Summer Breeze,” that I pretty much ran to the record store to pick up the album of the same title.  I found a delightful collection of melodic songs brimming over with spiritual lyrics espousing a life of selflessness and optimism.  The voices of Jim Seals and Dash Crofts, the instruments (guitars and mandolin, mostly) and professional production give these tracks a majestic sweep.  Buried on side two is a real sleeper called “The Euphrates,” which references the historic river running from Turkey through Syria and Iraq into the area formerly known as Mesopotamia:  “The deep, deep river.  The wide, wide river.  The long, long river.  Spiritual river.  The river of life…”

“Dreidel,” Don McLean, 1972

“American Pie” is so imbedded in the arc of popular culture that, sadly, it has overshadowed everything else McLean ever recorded.  He is a gifted songwriter who has composed some thoughtful pieces over the years that are worthy of our attention.  “Vincent,” his tribute to Van Gogh, was a fairly sizable hit on its own, but other McLean material has been overlooked.  I love the changes in tempo and instrumentation that mark the arrangement of “Dreidel,” a modest #21 hit in early 1973 based on the four-sided spinning top Jewish children play with while observing Hanukkah.  For him, a dreidel symbolizes life itself:  “Round and around the world you go, spinning through the lives of the people you know, we all slow down…”

“Time to Space,” Loggins and Messina, 1974

This duo happened more or less by accident when Jim Messina, a staff producer at Columbia and alumnus of the country rock band Poco, was tasked with shepherding newcomer Kenny Loggins through the production of his debut album.  It became instead “Kenny Loggins With Jim Messina Sittin’ In,” the first of six studio albums (plus two live LPs) by the duo in the 1970s.  For my money, 1974’s “Mother Lode” is their best stuff, with nary a weak moment on the album.  The track that has never ceased to captivate me is “Time to Space,” which begins and ends as a beautiful ballad, interrupted halfway through with an exhilarating uptempo section featuring flute/sax man Jon Clarke.  Wow!

“Written in Sand,” Santana, 1985

Emerging from San Francisco at the end of the ’60s, Santana went through many personnel changes over the years, but always with guitar virtuoso Carlos Santana at the helm. The group’s LPs routinely made it to the Top 20 on the US album charts, including two #1s in the early ’70s. The use of congas and vigorous percussion remained a mainstay element of Santana’s oeuvre, but by the 1980s, synthesizers and drum machines began creeping into the mix, which alienated some longtime fans. The 1985 LP “Beyond Appearances” was their first to fail to crack the Top 50, but it had a minor hit, “Say It Again,” featuring vocalist Alex Ligertwood, who also sang on the LP’s best track, the luxurious “Written in Sand.”

“Ship of Fools,” Robert Plant, 1988

In the wake of Led Zeppelin’s demise, many observers assumed we’d hear much more from Jimmy Page, but it was Robert Plant who emerged with the most active solo career, scoring four consecutive Top 20 LPs in the 1980s. His fourth, “Now and Zen,” was probably his most consistently satisfying, with the killer opening song, “Heaven Knows,” “Helen of Troy” and the intriguing “Tall Cool One,” in which Plant made liberal use of samples from a half-dozen Led Zep tracks. I’m also partial to “Ship of Fools,” a wonderfully moody piece that shows off Plant’s vocal shading in the same way we heard on “I’m in the Mood” from his 1983 LP, “The Principle of Moments.”

“The Right Moment,” Gerry Rafferty, 1982

Following his rocky beginning as half of Stealer’s Wheel, with whom he recorded the 1973 hit “Stuck in the Middle With You,” Rafferty finally resolved legal differences and made a huge splash with his first solo LP, “City to City,” which included the #1 hit “Baker Street” and “Right Down the Line.” Two more albums in the same vein followed, but by 1982, people had stopped paying attention, due in part to Rafferty’s aversion to touring. His “Sleepwalking” album that year failed to chart in the US, but I found three strong songs on it: “Standing at the Gate,” “Cat and Mouse” and the gentle yet forceful “The Right Moment,” carried by Rafferty’s rich vocals and the marvelous keyboard work of Dire Straits’ Alan Clark.

“Bitter Creek,” The Eagles, 1973

With strong personalities like Don Henley and Glenn Frey around, it was inevitable that the other two founding members of The Eagles would eventually feel marginalized enough to become disillusioned and leave the nest.  Bernie Leadon, whose country/bluegrass roots had brought him to the group by way of The Flying Burrito Brothers, was probably the group’s most talented player, and a fine vocalist and songwriter as well.  He co-wrote three tracks on “Eagles” and then penned two of the best songs on “Desperado” by himself.  In particular, Leadon’s “Bitter Creek” remains the most neglected song in The Eagles’ repertoire, with lyrics that warn of desert dangers while tying into the outlaw cowboy theme of the “Desperado” LP.

“Who Knows Where the Time Goes,” Judy Collins, 1968

A stalwart of the thriving folk music scene in Greenwich Village in the early ’60s, Collins at first limited her repertoire to traditional material and the works of Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. By 1966, she began branching out, attempting covers of nascent songwriters like Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot, Leonard Cohen and Randy Newman, eventually scoring a Top Ten hit with Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.” In 1968, she enlisted the help of fine musicians like Stephen Stills, James Burton and pedal steel guitarist Buddy Emmons to beef up the arrangements for her countryish hit, “Someday Soon,” and the moving song written by Fairport Convention’s Sandy Denny, “Who Knows Where the Time Goes.”

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If only you would listen

Posted on by brucehhackett

In his first big hit, “The Sound of Silence,” Paul Simon, one of our wisest and most articulate lyricists, famously wrote, “People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening…”

There’s an important distinction between hearing something and really listening. Hearing may be accidental or involuntary and require no effort. Listening requires intentional focus that often takes sustained concentration.

It’s a sad truth about the human race. As a rule, we’re not good listeners. We’re distracted by other things, other thoughts. Sometimes our egos get in the way, so we’re thinking more about what we’re going to say next instead of focusing on what is being said to us.

As my mother once taught me, “Listening is very important.  You miss a lot if you don’t listen.  Show interest in what others have to say. Listen to your children, and your friends, and your heart. Listen, even if you’re tired, and you’re angry, and you’d like not to, because you will hear things you may never hear any other time.”

When it comes to music, I’ve found that you’ll get much more out of it if you give it your full attention and really listen, especially to the words, perhaps with headphones or earbuds.

The lesson about being a good listener hasn’t been lost on the lyricists of popular song through the years. I have scoured the vaults and selected 15 classic tunes about listening from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, and I have written a little about each one. As always, there is a Spotify playlist at the end that allows you to, well, listen to the songs as you read along.

Thanks for reading and listening!

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“Listen to the Music,” The Doobie Brothers, 1972

Tom Johnston was a talented, inventive guitarist who wrote and sang most of The Doobie Brothers’ early singles, and recalls how their first big hit came to be. “The chord structure of it made me think of something positive. It occurred to me that if the leaders of the world got together, sat down and just listened to music and forgot about all this other bullshit, the world would be a much better place. It was very utopian, but it made for a fun song that’s still popular 50 years later.” It appeared on their “Toulouse Street” album and reached #11 on the U.S. Top 40 in 1972.

“Listen,” Chicago, 1969

As the “rock band with horns” that first called themselves Chicago Transit Authority were still playing Chicago area clubs, they were just grateful for the chance to perform. Keyboardist/vocalist Robert Lamm wrote a riveting rocker about how they were convinced people would like their music if they just took the time to hear it: “If it’s good, you can tell us all, /Or you can smile, that’s all right, my friend, /It could be so nice, you know, if only you would listen…” It’s the shortest, punchiest track on Chicago’s debut LP.

“Listen For the Laugh,” Bruce Cockburn, 1994

Cockburn has been a huge star in Canada for decades, but his only chart appearance in the US was 1979’s “Wondering Where the Lions Are,” which reached #21 and earned him a slot on “Saturday Night Live” that year. “Listen for the Laugh,” which came 15 years later, was one of the more philosophical songs he started writing at that point in his career: “It’s not the laughter of a child with toys, it’s not the laughter of the president’s boys, /It’s not the laughter of the media king, this laughter doesn’t sell you anything, /It’s the wind in the wings of a diving dove, you better listen for the laugh of love, /Whatever else you might be thinking of, you better listen for the laugh of love…”

“Listen To Me,” Buddy Holly, 1958

After a debut album as a member of The Crickets, Buddy Holly emerged as the star, with the next record issued under his name, with The Crickets as supporting musicians. On that album, chock full of radio hits like “Peggy Sue,” “Everyday” and “Rave On,” one of the deep tracks was “Listen to Me,” which could have arguably been a single in its own right. Holly co-wrote it with his producer, Norman Petty, who owned a studio in small-town New Mexico where most of Holly’s songs were cut: “Listen to me, hear what I say, our hearts can be nearer each day, /Hold me darling, listen closely to me…”

“Listen to Your Heart,” Roxette, 1988

Per Gessle, the guitarist from the Swedish duo Roxette (with Marie Fredriksson on vocals and keyboards), described “Listen to Your Heart” as “the big bad ballad.” He went on, “This is us trying to recreate that overblown American FM-rock sound to the point where it almost becomes absurd. We really wanted to see how far we could take it.” The lyrics were inspired by a close friend who was “in emotional turmoil, stuck between an old relationship and a new love. A year later, I called him up in the middle of the night and told him, ‘Hey, you’re number one in the States.'” “Listen to your heart when he’s calling for you, /Listen to your heart, there’s nothing else you can do, /I don’t know where you’re going and I don’t know why, /But listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye…”

“Lisa, Listen to Me,” Blood, Sweat & Tears, 1971

David Clayton-Thomas, lead singer of Blood, Sweat and Tears in their commercial heyday, co-wrote this song for the group’s “BS&T; 4” LP in 1971. The lyrics hint at something traumatic that happened to “Lisa” in the past, but she is now in a safer place and can speak freely. The fact that Clayton-Thomas had experienced some parental abuse gives the song more compassion and credibility. The narrator implores her to listen, to share her thoughts and know that he will be a caring listener: “He said, ‘Lisa, listen to me, don’t you know where you belong? /Darling, Lisa, you can tell me, you’ve been silent for too long’…”

“Stop and Listen,” Chuck Berry, 1961

Berry had been one of the true pioneers and stars of early rock and roll, but by the time his album “New Juke Box Hits” was recorded and released in 1961, he was in the midst of legal difficulties, which led to a prison term in 1962. The adverse publicity from these legal problems affected record sales, which is a shame, because people missed out on several deep tracks. The slow blues tune “Stop and Listen,” which has a wonderful groove to it, I only recently discovered, in which Berry warns against jumping into a relationship: “Stop and listen, before you make a start, /Stop and listen, before you make a start, /Because if you fall in love, it may break your heart…”

“Listen to Her Heart,” Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, 1978

Although it peaked at a disappointing #59 upon release in 1978, “Listen to Her Heart” is now considered one of Tom Petty’s best songs. He wrote it at a time when another man had been hitting on his then-wife, and he felt the need to tell him, “Buddy, you don’t even know her.” He played it often in concert during his long career: “You think you’re gonna take her away with your money and your cocaine, /Keep thinkin’ that her mind is gonna change, but I know everything is okay, /She’s gonna listen to her heart, it’s gonna tell her what to do, /Well, she might need a lot of lovin’, but she don’t need you…”

“Listen to What the Man Said,” Paul McCartney and Wings, 1975

Author Vincent Benitez, who wrote at length about McCartney’s solo years, said, “‘The Man’ in this tune is not explicitly identified, but many interpret it to be God. McCartney is advising us to stick with the basics of life, which to him means love.” Wings recorded the track in New Orleans for their “Venus and Mars Are Alright Tonight” album, with Tom Scott providing a masterful solo on sax. “Listen to What the Man Said” is “another fine example of buoyant, optimistic McCartney pop,” said Benitez. “Love is fine, for all we know, /For all we know, our love will grow, /That’s what the man said, /So won’t you listen to what the man said?…”

“Listen,” Al Green, 1972/1989

Throughout the 1970s, Al Green recorded for Hi Records, a small Memphis record label that specialized in gospel-influenced Southern soul. During Green’s commercial peak when he had three Top Ten albums (1972-1973), many extra songs were recorded but set aside for various reasons. Several of those were unearthed in 1989 and compiled on “South Lauderdale Avenue,” a collection of previously unreleased tracks by Green and others on that label. The best is “Listen,” which could have easily been a hit for him.

“Listen Like Thieves,” INXS, 1985

In this catchy track, INXS frontman Michael Hutchence asks us not to believe everything we read and hear. Band member Andrew Farriss said, “I love that phrase, ‘listen like thieves.’ Thieves have to listen closely lest they be discovered committing a crime. I think Michael’s lyric was saying that discerning the truth takes vigilance. The media haven’t been great watchdogs when it comes to news and politics. To get the real story, we need to listen like thieves.”

“Listen To Me,” The Hollies, 1968

This song was the final Hollies track in which Graham Nash participated before leaving to join forces with David Crosby and Stephen Stills. Nash had wanted to move beyond the usual sunny Hollies fare but the rest of the band disagreed. Written by songwriter Tony Hazzard, “Listen to Me” reached #11 in their native UK but went nowhere in the US. Its lyrics ask that we listen as “I’ll sing a song to change your mind” and help us be more optimistic: “Listen to me and very soon I think you’ll find /Somebody wants to help you, somebody seems to care, /And very soon you’ve forgotten that you didn’t care about love…”

“Listen to the Band,” The Monkees, 1969

Written by Michael Nesmith and recorded in Nashville, “Listen to the Band” was released as the B-side of a single with “Someday Man,” a Paul Williams song sung by usual Monkees lead singer Davy Jones. DJs preferred the country music vibe of Nesmith’s tune, but The Monkees were on their last legs at that point (Peter Tork had left), and the song never made it past #63 on the U.S. charts. The song suggests focusing on the band performing instead of getting caught up in a lost lover: “Weren’t they good? They made me happy, I think I can make it alone, /Oh mercy, woman plays a song and no one listens, I need help, I’m falling again, /Play the drum a little bit louder, tell them they can live without her if they only listen to the band…”

“Listen To Me Baby,” Smokey Joe Baugh, 1955

This early rocker is credited to Baugh, but it’s basically the Big Joe Turner classic “Shake, Rattle and Roll” with new words and a slightly altered melody. Baugh was on Sam Phillips’ Sun Records label, and Phillips figured Baugh’s distinctive, raspy voice would appeal to black audiences even though he (like label mate Elvis Presley) was white. Baugh made dozens of recordings for Sun but they were never issued, mostly because Baugh and Phillips never got along.

“Listen,” Tears for Fears, 1985

Ian Stanley, who served as a member of Tears for Fears for the group’s first three albums, was given chief songwriting credit for “Listen,” the mostly instrumental closing track on the multiplatinum “Songs From the Big Chair” album. It has a spooky, otherworldly vibe dominated by guitar and keyboards, and a brief lyric that implores us to simply “listen…soothe my feeling…now I feel it…” Stanley left the group during production of “The Seeds of Love” in 1989 but went on to produce numerous other artists in the 1990s and beyond, including The Pretenders, The Human League and Tori Amos.

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