Lost classics

The harmony and melody remain

Posted on by brucehhackett

I’ve been feeling mellow and deep in thought in recent weeks. For me, that’s the perfect time to turn to quieter musical vibes with wistful lyrics that tug at the heartstrings.

Typically, my “lost classics” entries on this blog are uptempo rockers, but this time around, I’m presenting “The harmony and melody remain,” a dozen meditative tracks that offer delicate song melodies to go with more intimate, more personal lyrics.

As always, there’s a Spotify playlist at the end which allows you to listen as you read.

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“The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress,” Judy Collins, 1975

Jimmy Webb is widely recognized as one of the more sublime songwriters of the ’60s and ’70s, whose tunes won scads of awards and became some of the most popular tunes of his era: “Up, Up and Away,” “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” “Wichita Lineman,” “MacArthur Park,” “Galveston,” “All I Know,” “Scissors Cut,” “Mr. Shuck ‘n Jive.” Artists like Glen Campbell, Art Garfunkel, The 5th Dimension and others loved singing Webb’s lovely melodies and emotional lyrics. A personal favorite is Judy Collins’ stunning rendition of “The Moon’s a Harsh Mistress,” Webb’s heartbreaking metaphor to lost love.

“Give Me Some Time,” Dan Fogelberg, 1977

I was a big fan of Fogelberg’s 1974 LP “Souvenirs,” which featured Joe Walsh as producer and lead guitarist, turning Fogelberg’s thoughtful folk rock songs like “Part of the Plan,” “Illinois” and “There’s a Place in the World For a Gambler” into shimmering tracks. 1975’s “Captured Angel” was a bit of a misfire, but Fogelberg came back in 1977 with “Nether Lands,” a strong collection of songs that deftly alternated between ballads and rockers. Among the prettiest is “Give Me Some Time,” in which the narrator implores his new romantic interest to slow down and allow him sufficient room to get over his previous relationship, “to talk myself into believing that she and I are through, then maybe I’ll fall for you…”

“Games of Magic,” Bread, 1972

Every one of Bread’s hit singles was written and sung by David Gates, a fact that grated on the group’s other singer-songwriter, James Griffin. Typically, Griffin’s tunes had more muscular arrangements, particularly when juxtaposed with the wispy ballads Gates wrote. The record label was happy to let Griffin fill out album sides with his songs, but they insisted on sticking with the winning formula of Gates’s songs and vocals for the singles. Too bad; some of Griffin’s tunes would have made fine singles, especially “Games of Magic,” an engaging track from the band’s biggest LP, 1972’s “Baby I’m-A Want You.”

“Here Today,” Paul McCartney, 1982

Six months after John Lennon was murdered in New York City, McCartney took on the challenge of writing a tribute to his fallen comrade for his 1982 LP “Tug of War,” made problematic because of the estrangement they had gone through following The Beatles’ breakup. The lyrics take the form of a hypothetical conversation between the two, in which they confess that, despite a fruitful songwriting partnership, maybe they didn’t really know each other all that well. It’s deeply moving, and McCartney has said he usually gets emotional when he sings it in concert. “John was a great mate and a very important man in my life, and I miss him, y’know?”

“And So It Goes,” Billy Joel, 1989

Most of Joel’s songs are well-crafted pop-rock tunes with catchy hooks and clever lyrics that had him appearing regularly in the Top Ten over his 20-plus year career as a recording artist. If I had to pick Joel’s most exquisite melody, it would be this magnificent ballad from his 1989 LP “Storm Front.” With a hymn-like structure carried by Joel’s piano and tender vocal treatment, Joel tells the story of his doomed relationship with model Elle MacPherson from six years earlier. He wrote it and made a demo in 1983 but never committed it to an official release until 1989. It was released as a single but peaked at #37, perhaps because it didn’t have the good-natured vitality people had come to expect from his hits.

“Martha,” Tom Waits, 1973

With his muttered vocals and boozy vignettes, Waits established himself immediately with his 1973 debut LP “Closing Time,” a riveting cycle of melancholy songs that redefine wee-hours loneliness. “Ol’ 55” became a hit when The Eagles sugar-coated it with harmonies and pedal steel, but the real gems here are the ones that Waits delivers alone on piano or guitar — “I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love With You,” “Grapefruit Moon,” “Lonely” and the title track. Most impressive is “Martha,” an achingly sad song about reaching out in a long-distance call to a long-ago love. You’ll need a hug after hearing this one.

“Pink Moon,” Nick Drake, 1972

Drake was a gifted, tortured soul who suffered periodically from a depression that eventually consumed him at only 26. He wrote introspective songs and delivered them in a painfully shy manner. Drake released three LPs in his short life, none of which sold well until decades later. His final one was “Pink Moon” in 1972, highlighted by his smoky voice that recalls a jazzier Donovan. The title track became a surprise hit in 1999 when it was used in an artful Volkswagen commercial, piquing the interest of art/folk music fans in the UK and the US alike.

“18th Avenue,” Cat Stevens, 1972

By the time he released his 1972 chart-topping album “Catch Bull at Four,” Stevens had broadened his approach to involve orchestration and more diverse instruments and arrangements. These songs are more keyboard-oriented than the delicate guitar songs that dominated “Tea For The Tillerman” and “Teaser and the Firecat.” In particular, the striking piano and synthesizer he used in “18th Avenue” brings drama and tension to the fraught lyrics (note the parenthetical title “Kansas City Nightmare”). The narrator seems anxious to evade “the path dark and borderless” and grab a plane out of town “just in time.”

“Finally Found a Friend,” Grayson Hugh, 1988

Possessed of one of the most soulful voices I’ve ever heard, Hugh came to our attention in 1988 with his remarkable “Blind to Reason” LP and its sly hit “Talk It Over.” I could’ve sworn Hugh was black, based on the way he wraps his voice around his R&B melodies. This album and its well-regarded follow-up “Road to Freedom” (1992) should’ve made Hugh a star, but it never happened. I implore you to check out his music, especially tracks like “Romantic Heart,” “Tears of Love,” “Empty as the Wind” and the gratitude-soaked “Finally Found a Friend.” You won’t be disappointed.

“And I Go,” Steve Winwood, 1982

Beginning at age 15 in The Spencer Davis Group, then in Traffic and Blind Faith, and a lucrative solo career in the ’80s and beyond, Winwood has been one of the most talented singers England ever produced. He also wrote dozens of iconic songs like “Dear Mr. Fantasy,” “Can’t Find My Way Home” and “Back in the High Life Again.” Curiously, his 1982 album “Talking Back to the Night” remains one of his most underrated works, with contagious numbers like “Big Girls Walk Away” and the title song screaming for more airplay. On the quieter side, “And I Go” shows Winwood’s abilities at crafting a slower tempo track.

“Pieces of April,” Three Dog Night, 1972

Three Dog Night was known for selecting great songs by then-unknown songwriters and giving them the exposure they needed. “Pieces of April,” written by Dave Loggins of “Please Come to Boston” fame, became the vocal group’s 14th Top 20 single in less than four years. It appeared on their highest-charting LP, 1972’s “Seven Separate Fools,” and was the only single the group released that featured just one of the three singers (in this case, Chuck Negron) without their trademark harmonies and sharing of lead vocals. Loggins (Kenny’s second cousin) later recorded his own rendition, but it’s tough to top this lovely version.

“Blessed,” Lazarus, 1971

Thanks to Peter Yarrow of Peter, Paul and Mary, this trio from West Texas secured a record contract on the strength of Bill Hughes’ gorgeous melodies and spiritual lyrics. My guitar compatriot Ben and I together learned a few of the songs, most notably “Blessed,” which became something of a signature song at our occasional performances. The upbeat tempo and hopeful lyrics remind listeners that when things seem difficult or desperate, that’s the time to “turn it over” to a Higher Power. Lazarus lasted long enough for a second LP (“A Fool’s Paradise”) in 1973 before Hughes went his own way and began a solo career that included writing for TV and film.

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I once was lost, but now I’m found

Posted on by brucehhackett

There’s nothing better than hearing a song you used to love but have somehow forgotten all about over the years.  Perhaps it’s the one great song on a so-so album, so you don’t even remember it’s there.  Or maybe it’s on a super album but the radio plays only the same 3-4 songs, neglecting some choice tunes in the mix.

Vinyl-Record-Storage

Or maybe you never heard it before, even though it’s on a popular album.  Some music-loving friend turns you on to a deep track, and blows your mind.  “Wow!  Where has THAT song been all my life?”

That’s the purpose of my series of “lost classics” blogs (this is the 35th installment!) in which I turn the spotlight on these hidden gems.  They live among us, dear readers.  Treat yourself to these dozen songs I’ve selected from the 1969-1983 period that will perhaps spark great memories, or thrill you for the first time.

And off we go…

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“Queen of My Soul,” Average White Band, 1976

This R&B band from Scotland made quite a splash in the US in the mid-to-late ’70s with singles like the #1 instrumental “Pick Up the Pieces” and its follow-up, “Cut the Cake,” and three Top Ten albums.  On their third LP, “Soul Searching,” there’s an infectious dance track by guitarist/bassist/vocalist/songwriter Hamish Stuart called “Queen of My Soul” that is guaranteed to get you up out of your chair.  Its main message, repeated often in the chorus and coda, is that music can play a hugely important role in our lives:   “Music, sweet music, you’re the queen of my soul…”

“Mirage,” Santana, 1974

After a spectacular debut LP, followed by two consecutive #1 albums, Santana foundered a bit in 1973 as their lead guitarist wanted to stretch boundaries and try new things.  Several personnel shifts occurred, and the music, while fascinating at times, didn’t offer what the band’s early fans were looking for, so the albums didn’t chart as well.  Still, there’s often a diamond in the rough hidden amongst average songs, and on “Borboletta,” it’s a gorgeous keyboard-dominated track called “Mirage,” written and sung by organist/pianist Leon Patillo.  Carlos Santana is, of course, on hand to offer his trademark biting guitar riffs.

“I Really Don’t Know Anymore,” Christopher Cross, 1980

This unlikely-looking singer-songwriter seemingly came out of nowhere in early 1980 with his eponymous debut LP and its four hit singles (“Sailing,” “Ride Like the Wind,” “Never Be the Same” and “The Light is On”).  He won the “Big Four” Grammys that year, including Song of the Year (as composer) and Record of the Year (as performer) for “Sailing,” Album of the Year, and Best New Artist, the only time this has happened in Grammy history.  Did he deserve it?  That’s debatable, but the album is full of really great music, and the lost gem, to me, is “I Really Don’t Know Anymore,” a shimmering rock track that features Michael McDonald sharing vocals, and a scorching guitar solo by jazz/rock great Larry Carlton.

“Starship Trooper,” Yes, 1971

This accomplished progressive rock group from England had greater chart success with their “Fragile” album and its single “Roundabout,” and their #1 opus “Close to the Edge,” but I keep going back to the brilliant 1971 LP, “The Yes Album.”  There you’ll find the minor hit  “I’ve Seen All Good People” and the sonic smorgasbord of the leadoff song, “Yours is No Disgrace,” but most diehard Yes fans are partial to the 9-minute “Starship Trooper,” which is actually a suite of three separate pieces of music combined in a gorgeous, mesmerizing track.  In particular, Jon Anderson’s crystalline vocals and Steve Howe’s intricate guitar work stand out.   

“Tell Me All the Things You Do,” Fleetwood Mac, 1970

The band that blues guitarist Peter Green put together in 1967 would go through several giddy highs and discouraging lows before they hit superstardom in 1977.  In 1970, Fleetwood Mac muscled their way through the sessions for “Kiln House,” their first LP without Green at the helm, who had abruptly left to join a commune.  Guitarist Jeremy Spencer wasn’t much of a songwriter, and he too would soon be swayed by a persuasive cult.   This left the bulk of the songwriting on the frail shoulders of young Danny Kirwan, a new recruit the year before.  He came through with a couple of gems, including “Tell Me All the Things You Do,” where his tenor voice sounds a lot like Christine McVie, who became a full-fledged member later that year.  Kirwan’s guitar work is masterful here.

“Criminal World,” David Bowie, 1983

It had been three years since Bowie’s last release, 1980’s “Scary Monsters,” so naturally, the public was about to meet a new Bowie persona.  He wrote or identified eight captivating songs, hired Chic’s Nile Rodgers to produce, and unleashed then-unknown blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan on most of the tracks, and the result, “Let’s Dance,” was #1 in ten countries.  While “Modern Love,” “China Girl” and the anthemic title song rightly get most of the attention, I suggest you take a listen to “Criminal World,” which features Vaughan adding just the right guitar fills to spice things up.  Great song!

“Albert Flasher,” The Guess Who, 1971

Randy Bachman had been the de facto leader/guitarist/songwriter of this polished Canadian band, but he departed after “American Woman” in 1970, later to lead Bachman-Turner Overdrive.  That left singer/pianist/songwriter Burton Cummings to take over the reins, and he came up with some impossibly catchy Top 20 tunes to keep the Guess Who popular for several more years — “Share the Land,” “Hand Me Down World,” “Rain Dance” and my favorite, “Albert Flasher,” a piano-driven single that wasn’t available on an album until many years later.  Cummings’ vocal delivery here is simply spectacular.  I wish this one went on longer than its brief 2:18 length.

“Tell Me to My Face,” Dan Fogelberg & Tim Weisberg, 1978

For his fifth album, Fogelberg teamed up with jazz flautist Weisberg for the delightful “Twin Sons of Different Mothers,” which reached #8 on the charts on the strength of the single, “The Power of Gold.”  Most of the LP showcases the delicate interweaving of flute and acoustic guitar, but “Power of Gold” is full-bodied and really cooks, and even more so is the incredible 7-minute rendition of “Tell Me to My Face,” written by Graham Nash and Allan Clarke in 1966 and recorded by The Hollies.  Fogelberg’s version is leaps and bounds better than the original, if only because production values are so superior…but so is the musicianship.  I crank this one up every chance I get.

“Be My Lover,” Alice Cooper, 1971

The shock rock of Alice and his band of hard rock misfits had struggled to find an audience at first, but producer Bob Ezrin polished up their sound and asked for songs with great hooks, and the band responded with “I’m Eighteen,” a teenage rallying cry to this day.  On their “Killer” album in ’71, “Under My Wheels” kept momentum alive until 1972’s “School’s Out” and “Elected” and 1973’s “Billion Dollar Babies” LP made them one of the nation’s top concert draws.  But go back to “Killer” — many compelling songs there, particularly “Be My Lover,” written by guitarist Michael Bruce.  The dude knew his way around a knockout riff.

“Kozmic Blues,” Janis Joplin, 1969

In early 1969, Janis had left her erstwhile group, Big Brother and the Holding Company (despite their #1 album together, “Cheap Thrills”), and instead assembled a new band loosely known as The Kozmic Blues Band.  This group, which included blues great Mike Bloomfield on a few tracks, recorded the impressive “I Got Dem Ol’ Kozmic Blues Again Mama!” just before appearing at Woodstock.  The album’s release a month later capitalized on that appearance and reached #6 on the charts.  Three singles were released but curiously went nowhere, despite their energy and musical quality.  The title track shows Joplin in fine form, offering alternately dulcet and screeching vocals as a basic piano melody evolves into a full brass, full-throated tour de force, all in a compact 4:42.

“Night Flight,” Led Zeppelin, 1975

Eight new songs were recorded by the band for their “Physical Graffiti” album in 1974, but since their combined length pushed the limit of a conventional single album, they decided to resurrect some unreleased tracks recorded during previous sessions and make “Graffiti” a double album.  Naturally, it went to #1, but only four or five of the 15 songs got much airplay — usually “Kashmir” and “Trampled Under Foot,” maybe “In My Time of Dying.”  But the one I like is “Night Flight,” originally intended for the “IV/Untitled” album in 1971.  Carried by John Paul Jones’ keyboards, and a typically powerful Robert Plant vocal, it packs a wallop, and recalls “Misty Mountain Hop” and “Four Sticks” from that classic album.

“Freedom Rider,” Traffic, 1970

Steve Winwood had already achieved so much before he was 21 — hits with Spencer Davis Group, forming trippy folk/rock band Traffic, then teaming up with Eric Clapton for the Blind Faith project.  He then decided the time was right for a solo LP, and started writing the songs that would eventually make up the extraordinary “John Barleycorn Must Die” album.  Because Winwood used Traffic’s drummer Jim Capaldi and flute/sax player Chris Wood in the recording sessions, he relented and agreed to call it a Traffic album, which kick-started another five years and three more amazing albums for the band (and delayed Winwood’s solo career until the late ‘70s).  On “Freedom Rider,” Wood’s sax and flute passages perfectly complement Winwood’s piano and organ, and that voice — well, there are few peers in the business. 

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