The ’60s, ’70s and ’80s offered so much great music that it’s easy to forget — or to have never heard — the hundreds, even thousands of deep tracks and lost classics found on great, average and even crappy albums. I’ve taken it upon myself to search these records so that we might all discover, or re-discover, some of the fine nuggets of great music that’s been tucked away for far too long.

I hope you get a kick out of these selections, and I encouraged you to send more candidates my way as possible candidates for a future set of “lost classics.”

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“Giddy Up a Ding Dong,” The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, 1973

Harvey, from Glasgow, Scotland, was already 37 and a veteran recording and performing artist when he formed this quasi-progressive rock band in 1972. They had almost no following in the US except in Cleveland, where hip DJ Kid Leo from WMMS played them incessantly, which brought them to the famed Agora Ballroom, where they recorded many tracks for a live LP in 1974. Harvey had been a big fan of early rock and roll, including obscure acts like Freddie Bell & The Bellboys. Bell had written a fun dance tune called “Giddy Up a Ding Dong” that Harvey and his band covered in a riotous arrangement that appeared on their 1973 LP, “Next.”

“Hallelujah,” Sweathog, 1972

This is one of those modestly successful tunes from my high school years by an obscure California rock band that qualifies as a “one-hit wonder.” Sweathog was a foursome founded in the San Jose area in 1969 who went on to become popular as a warmup act for more popular rock groups like Black Sabbath, Grand Funk Railroad and Edgar Winter’s White Trash. Although “Hallelujah” managed only #33 on the charts in January 1972, the vocal harmonies and rocking groove that attracted me must’ve clicked with Canadian listeners as well, where the track reached #16.

“Talk to Me,” Bruce Springsteen, 1978

Springsteen has been one of rock music’s most prolific songwriters since he first emerged from the Jersey Shore in the early ’70s. In 1977-78, as he was working on recording his “Darkness on the Edge of Town” LP, he recorded more than three dozen songs, selecting ten of them to put on the album that year and giving several others to other artists to cover (“Because the Night” to Patti Smith, “Fire” to The Pointer Sisters). His pal Southside Johnny Lyon and his band, The Asbury Jukes, recorded a few Springsteen originals, one of which was the exuberant “Talk to Me.” In 2010, The Boss released “The Promise,” which compiled the best of the tracks he recorded and shelved in 1978, including “Talk to Me.”

“Oh Atlanta,” Little Feat, 1974

With the addition of bassist Kenny Gradney, percussionist Sam Clayton and, especially, versatile guitarist Paul Barrère in 1972, Little Feat adopted a rhythm-oriented, funky sound that recalled the New Orleans feel of The Meters. The band really hit their stride with a six-album run — “Dixie Chicken” (1973), “Feats Don’t Fail Me Now” (1974), “The Last Record Album” (1975), Time Loves a Hero” (1977), the double live album “Waiting for Columbus” (1978) and “Down on the Farm” (1979). From the “Feats” album you’ll find the barrelhouse stomp of “Oh, Atlanta,” with leader Lowell George leading his troops through a tribute to the Southern city and the woman he left behind there.

“Pardon Me Sir,” Joe Cocker, 1972

Beginning with his first LP in 1969, Cocker developed a solid reputation reinterpreting songs already recorded by others, from The Beatles’ “With a Little Help From My Friends” and Dave Mason’s “Feelin’ Alright” to Leon Russell’s “Delta Lady” and the old Box Tops classic, “The Letter.” Although Cocker struggled with depression and alcoholism, he and keyboardist Chris Stainton somehow found the strength to collaborate on five original songs for his 1972 “Joe Cocker” LP, including the minor hits “High Time We Went” and “Woman to Woman.” I recently rediscovered the lively opening track, “Pardon Me Sir,” carried by Stainton’s fine piano work, Cocker’s gruff growl and the Sanctified Sisters on backing vocals.

“Highway 61 Revisited,” Bob Dylan, 1965

When Dylan made the switch from acoustic to electric guitar arrangements for his songs, he was driven by rock and roll and the blues, leaving folk music in the dust, at least for the time being. The title song of his landmark “Highway 61 Revisited” LP references the main route that follows the Mississippi River from New Orleans north through Tennessee and Missouri to Dylan’s home state of Minnesota. Dylan metaphorically traveled that road from north to south, leaving the backwoods for the urban scenes, picking up the blues influences along the way. “Highway 61 Revisited,” a rollicking blues boogie, is one of Dylan’s most spirited tracks, with notables like Mike Bloomfield, Al Kooper and Harvey Brooks in the mix.

“8th Avenue Shuffle,” The Doobie Brothers, 1976

When Doobies co-founder Tom Johnston was sidelined in 1975 with bleeding ulcers and exhaustion, the band hired singer Michael McDonald temporarily to fill in on tour, then decided to bring him in the studio and use four of his songs on their next LP, “Takin’ It to the Streets.” McDonald’s presence injected new life and a different style to the group’s palette, but it wasn’t a complete departure, thanks to the singing and songwriting of co-founder Patrick Simmons, which remained as strong as ever. His hard-to-pinpoint tune “8th Avenue Shuffle” goes through R&B, jazz and hard rock changes in less than five minutes, making old and new Doobies fans sit up and take notice.

“Trip Through Your Wire,” U2, 1987

The incredible songs that make up U2’s multiplatinum album “The Joshua Tree” set such a high bar that it’s kind of surprising to hear there was another entire album’s worth of material being worked up at the same time that didn’t make the cut. Indeed, Bono even pushed for “The Joshua Tree” to be a double album but he was overruled. The R&B-flavored “Sweetest Thing,” which wasn’t released until a “Best Of” package 12 years later, was intended to be a companion piece to one of my favorite album tracks, the bluesy romp “Trip Through Your Wires.” Bono’s harmonica workout was the unusual element this time, complementing The Edge’s rustic, jangly guitar stylings.

“Good Shepherd,” Jefferson Airplane, 1969

This 19th Century African-American hymn went through many changes in tempo, title, lyrics and instrumentations as a lasting spiritual that used elements of folk, gospel and blues. Jorma Kaukonen, the Airplane’s guitarist, sang “Good Shepherd” (originally titled “Blood-Stained Bandit”) as a folk-based song in small Bay Area clubs in the early ’60s. By the time the band was recording “Volunteers” in 1969, Kaukonen offered this “psychedelic folk-rock” arrangement of “Good Shepherd,” adding biting electric guitar lines and a rare lead vocal. The track stood out as a peaceful moment amidst a batch of songs that focused on protest, revolution and anarchy.

“Cold Cold World,” Stephen Stills, 1975

Once Stills’s inventive musical assembly called Manassas completed a two-year run in 1973, he started work on a solo LP that was put on hold as Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young reunited in 1974 for a lucrative US tour. He resumed production with the help of numerous musicians, especially guitarist/singer Donnie Dacus, drummer Russ Kunkel and bassist Lee Sklar. The resulting LP, titled simply “Stills,” reached a respectable #19 on US album charts. Stills and Dacus co-wrote two tracks: “Turn Back the Pages,” a great song which disappointed as a single, and “Cold, Cold World,” a slow-tempo creeper highlighted by Stills’ delicious guitar playing and singing. 

“Don’t Talk,” 10,000 Maniacs, 1987

Hailing originally from Jamestown in western New York, 10,000 Maniacs featured the songs and captivating voice of Natalie Merchant, who led the band through three successful LPs in the 1987-1993 period. On 1987’s “In My Tribe,” Merchant co-wrote a few tracks with guitarist Robert Buck (“What’s the Matter Here?” and “Hey Jack Kerouac”) and the shimmering “Don’t Talk” with keyboard player Dennis Drew, featuring dynamic drumming by Jerome Augustnyiak. The lyrics describe the frustration of trying to communicate with an alcoholic when he’s in his addiction, being dishonest and hurtful:  “The drink you drown your troubles in is the trouble you’re in now…”

“Love of the Common Man,” Todd Rundgren, 1976

Between 1966 and 1976, the ambitious, unpredictable Rundgren fronted two nascent bands (The Nazz and Runt), released seven wildly different solo albums and one by his side project Utopia, and also produced albums by Grand Funk, the New York Dolls, Hall and Oates and Meat Loaf. In 1976 he chose to mark his first decade in the business by recording exact covers of six songs from 1966 by The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Yardbirds, Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix. On Side B of “Faithful,” he wrote original songs that touched on the genres he’d been dabbling in — commercial pop, progressive rock and experimental jazz. I’ve always thought “Love of the Common Man” is one of Todd’s finest tunes.

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Come join me as I take another deep dive into my vinyl collection for another dozen “lost classics” — great songs from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s that you’ve forgotten about or have never heard before. I invite you to check out the Spotify playlist at the end so you can listen along as you read a little history behind each track. Enjoy!

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“Lord Grenville,” Al Stewart, 1976

In the late ’60s and early ’70s, Stewart developed a singular style of combining folk-rock songs with intricately woven lyrics of characters and events from history. By 1976, he hit pay dirt with “Year of the Cat,” a stunning LP of songs that put Stewart’s evocative, globe-trotting narratives in the capable hands of Alan Parsons and his panoramic production. The title tune became a Top Ten hit in the US in 1977, and the album reached #5 on the strength of mystery-laden tracks like “On the Border,” “One Stage Before,” “Flying Sorcery” and the regal-sounding “Lord Grenville,” a nautical tale of retreat and regret carried by Stewart’s vocals and the guitar work of Tim Renwick and Peter White.

“White Lies,” Nils Lofgren and Grin, 1972

Since 1984, Lofgren has played second guitar in Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band, but in the early ’70s when Lofgren was just 19, he became a musical collaborator with Neil Young on his first few solo LPs, especially “After the Gold Rush.” Between 1971 and 1974, Lofgren headed up a band called Grin, who released four critically acclaimed LPs of catchy hard rock, written and sung by Lofgren, but inexplicably, they barely made the charts. His solo albums in the late ’70s reached as high as #36 (“Cry Tough”). From “1+1,” Grin’s second album, “White Lies” became a regional hit in Washington D.C. and a few other pockets in the Northeast and Midwest.

“Unloved Children,” Todd Rundgren, 1989

Rundgren has been one of the most prolific rockers of the past 50 years, releasing nearly 40 albums as a solo artist or with his band Utopia. He has had only modest commercial success, but many critics and a fiercely loyal fan base have sung his praises for decades. One of his most underrated efforts came in 1989 with “Nearly Human,” a strong set of songs dealing with loss, self-doubt, jealousy and spiritual recovery. In the solid rocker “Unloved Children,” Rundgren takes aim at abusive people who become negligent parents but keep having more kids anyway: “We can prescribe for pain, have her declared insane, even all this won’t change violent men, hard-headed women, unloved children…”

“In For the Night,” Sanford-Townsend Band, 1976

This singing-songwriting duo from Texas had co-written a few songs with Kenny Loggins that ended up on the final Loggins and Messina LP, “Native Sons.” The twosome’s recording debut, which included the Top 20 hit “Smoke From a Distant Fire,” included at least a half-dozen fine soulful tracks that rock, including “Shake It to the Right,” “Does It Have to Be You” and “Oriental Gate.” Even better than those was “In For the Night,” an irresistible tune with killer horn arrangements and a great vocal from John Townsend. The duo’s recording career petered out after two lackluster follow-ups, after which they resumed their positions as staff songwriters for Columbia Records.

“Couldn’t Get It Right,” Climax Blues Band, 1976

For six years in the 1970s, this British blues rock band continued to release albums of original material that drew a small fan base in the UK, but they made little impression on US charts. Then in 1976, as they were completing their eighth LP, “Gold Plated,” their manager, Miles Copeland III, insisted they add a “radio-friendly song, maybe cover an Elvis Presley number.” The band blanched at that idea, and instead wrote a song “out of thin air” in the studio, based on a serendipitous rhythm and a guitar riff with the lyric, “Looking for a sign in the middle of the night.” That turned into “Couldn’t Get It Right,” which reached #3 in the US in 1977 and helped push “Gold Plated” to #27 on US album charts.

“Long Long Time,” McGuinn, Clark and Hillman, 1979

These three veterans of the folk rock movement in the ’60s, as founding members of The Byrds, reunited in the ’70s to give it another go. The trio was hoping to capitalize on the vibe heard on Crosby, Stills and Nash’s “CSN” album in 1977, which was a reasonable goal, since all three of these guys were fine songwriters with excellent blended vocals. But McGuinn’s trademark 12-string guitar was nowhere to be found, replaced by a polished pop groove more in keeping with the disco sound that still reigned in the late ’70s. The album fared reasonably well, but the single, “Don’t You Write Her Off,” stalled at #33. To my ears, “Long Long Time” was the best track.

“Behind the Mask,” Fleetwood Mac, 1990

During this band’s 1975-1987 heyday, new singer-songwriters Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks got much of the attention, and deservedly so, but alongside these two powerhouse talents was Christine McVie, the keyboardist/vocalist whose songs are arguably better, and were usually the ones that became their hit singles (“Say You Love Me,” “Don’t Stop,” “You Make Loving Fun,” “Little Lies”). After Buckingham left in ’87, the next LP, “Behind the Mask,” met with mixed reviews and stalled on the charts. Again, it was McVie’s songs that proved to be the album’s best; her pop rocker “Save Me” got the airplay, but I submit that the haunting title track may be one of her finest songs ever.

“The Bed’s Too Big Without You,” The Police, 1979

Of all the British bands who came out of the New Wave movement in the late ’70s, The Police showed the most promise. The trio, consisting of Andy Sommers on guitar, Stewart Copeland on drums and the multi-talented Sting on bass and vocals, dabbled in punk, reggae and rock, coming up with memorable hits like “Roxanne” and “Message in a Bottle.” They would evolve into a smoother style by the time of their fifth and final album, 1983’s “Synchronicity,” but fans like me always returned to the “Regatta de Blanc” and “Zenyatta Mondatta” LPs. In particular, the engaging rhythm and sublime vocals on “The Bed’s Too Big Without You” showcased The Police at their best.

“Home Town,” Joe Jackson, 1985

I found it interesting that a perfectionist like Joe Jackson would record 15 new songs not in a studio but in a New York theater in front of a live audience who agreed to remain silent until each take was completed. The resulting LP, “Big World,” is an extraordinary work that explores a cornucopia of world rhythms and provocative topics. Tracks such as “Right and Wrong,” “Soul Kiss,” “We Can’t Live Together” and “Tonight and Forever,” really shine, but I’m crazy about “Home Town,” a wonderfully tuneful piece that strikes a chord with folks who find themselves longing for the old neighborhood and memories of the place where they grew up.

“Harpo’s Blues,” Phoebe Snow, 1974

Snow’s gift was her voice, a bluesy growl with alternating nasal tones and an alluring smoothness, all packaged in an impressive four-octave range. From her 1974 debut LP, radio audiences couldn’t get enough of “Poetry Man,” which reached #5 in early 1975. I was more partial to the poignant, jazzy “Harpo’s Blues,” on which Snow imagines the things a childlike person like Harpo Marx might wish to be, and why. It then concludes with “but I’d hate to be a grown-up and have to try to bear my life in pain…” She could sing and write almost anything, from R&B and gospel to jazz and folk, and did some high-profile duets, like “Gone at Last” with Paul Simon.

“Everyday Now,” Texas, 1989

This is one of those bands that had spectacular success in their native UK but are virtual unknowns in the US, even though they called themselves Texas! Led by guitarist/songwriter Johnny McElhone and lead singer Sharleen Spiteri, the group reached #3 with their debut, “Southside,” scored two #1 albums in England and several European countries in the late 1990s and are still making waves on the charts as recently as this year. I don’t recall where I first heard Texas’s music, but “Southside” got a little airplay in the US in 1989, mostly the single, “I Don’t Want a Lover,” but as usual I was drawn to a deeper track called “Everyday Now,” with its stuttering rhythm and engaging vocals.

“Don’t Talk,” 10,000 Maniacs, 1987

I remember being mesmerized by singer Natalie Merchant’s matter-of-fact vocal style when I first heard 10,000 Maniacs’ “In My Tribe” LP in 1987. There were a lot of great songs too, which alternative radio played incessantly, but mainstream radio didn’t really embrace the band (until they recorded a live cover version of the Bruce Springsteen/Patti Smith tune “Because the Night” in 1993, which reached #11). Do yourself a favor and check out the smart tracks on “In My Tribe,” like “Hey Jack Kerouac,” “My Sister Rose,” “What’s the Matter Here?” and a rendition of the Cat Stevens classic “Peace Train.” I’m also drawn to the gauzy guitar sound on “Don’t Talk.”

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