Becoming reacquainted with long lost songs from my youth, or just recently discovering decades-old tunes, are two things that make my day. If you’re a fan of the music of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, then I invite you to join as I feature another dozen “lost classics” from that fruitful era.

I own most of this music on vinyl. Maybe you have it too, or on CD. Or maybe you’re not much of a collector and rely on digital platforms. Regardless, music is meant to be shared, so I’ve assembled a Spotify playlist at the end so you can groove on these tracks as you learn a little bit about them and the artists who recorded them.

Rock on!

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“Evil Woman (Don’t Play Your Games With Me),” Crow, 1969

The Minnesota-based band Crow, featuring brothers Larry and Dick Wiegand and singer David Wagner, released three LPs and eight singles between 1969 and 1972, but the only one to make any kind of impact was the solid rocker, “Evil Woman (Don’t Play Your Games With Me),” which reached #19 on US charts in early 1970. It’s interesting to note that Black Sabbath released a cover of the song as their debut single in the UK, but it never saw the light of day in the US until a 2003 compilation CD. Ike & Tina Turner also released a cover of it on their “Come Together” album, changing the gender to “Evil Man” so Tina could sing it.

“Take What You Need,” Steppenwolf, 1968

Gabriel Mekler was a staff producer for ABC Dunhill Records in LA in 1967 when he was assigned to man the boards for a new band known as The Sparrows. Having just read the Herman Hesse novel “Steppenwolf,” he suggested the group adopt that name, then proved instrumental in getting the best sounds out of them for their 1968 debut, especially the landmark single “Born To Be Wild.” Other songs like “The Pusher” and “Sookie Sookie” were written by outside sources (Hoyt Axton and Don Covay respectively), but Mekler co-wrote a couple of songs with lead singer John Kay, including “Take What You Need,” a deep track I’ve always admired.

“Steppin’ Out,” Paul Revere & Raiders, 1965

Guitarist Revere and singer Mark Lindsay headed up this Oregon-based band in the early 1960s, recording mostly covers like “Louie Louie,” “You Can’t Sit Down” and “Do You Love Me,” which earned them a contract with Columbia. They continued recording covers and had their first big hit in 1965 with “Just Like Me,” which led to them becoming the house band on Dick Clark’s afternoon TV show “Where the Action Is.” On their Top Ten album “Just Like Us,” Revere and Lindsay co-wrote a rollicking tune called “Steppin’ Out,” which stalled at #46 on pop charts but still helped pave the way for several more Top Ten hits for the group over the next four years (“Kicks,” “Hungry,” “Good Thing,” “Him or Me, What’s It Gonna Be”).

“Take It Back,” Cream, 1967

Most of Cream’s most memorable recorded moments came when they took established blues songs (“Crossroads,” “Spoonful,” “I’m So Glad”) and turned them into virtuoso live jams. The group also composed their own tunes, with bassist Jack Bruce and his lyricist Pete Brown writing about half the original material found on Cream’s four LPs, including “White Room,” “I Feel Free,” “Politician,” “SWLABR” and “Deserted Cities of the Heart.” Hidden near the end of their popular 1967 LP “Disraeli Gears” is an infectious Bruce/Brown rock track called “Take It Back,” which features great vocals and harmonica by Bruce and uses extraneous voices and noises to convey a party atmosphere in the studio during recording.

“Scarlet Begonias,” Grateful Dead, 1974

As far as radio is concerned, The Dead’s catalog has been largely limited to “Truckin’,” “Casey Jones,” “Sugar Magnolia,” “Friends of the Devil” and “Touch of Grey,” but their repertoire is littered with fun, funky songs just aching to be discovered. I’ve already featured four such Dead tracks in my Lost Classics series (“Eyes of the World,” “China Cat Sunflower,” “Throwing Stones” and “Alabama Getaway”), and now here’s another, this one from their underrated 1974 LP “From the Mars Hotel.” Jerry Garcia and lyricist Robert Hunter wrote it about a mysterious woman they met in London, who wore scarlet begonias in her hair and lured them into a poker game where they lost their shirts.

“Mattie’s Rag,” Gerry Rafferty, 1978

Legal challenges involving his former band Stealers Wheel prevented Rafferty from releasing any new material for four years in the mid-’70s, but once that was settled, he made a big impact with his 1978 LP “City to City,” which reached #1 on US charts on the strength of the hugely popular “Baker Street” single. “Right Down the Line” was a strong follow-up hit at #11, and “Home and Dry” did respectably at #28, but the album offers several more tracks worthy of your attention: the galloping rocker “Waiting For The Day,” the lush ballad “Whatever’s Written in Your Heart” with its stunning harmonies, and “Mattie’s Rag,” a sunny ode to Rafferty’s daughter, telling her how grateful he is to be returning home to her after a long spell away.

“What’s the Matter Here?” 10,000 Maniacs, 1987

This upstate New York band, who got their name from the 1960s low-budget horror flick “Two Thousand Maniacs,” made its first impact on US charts with their “In My Tribe” album in 1987. The LP reached #37, and this single peaked at #9 on the then-new Alternative/Modern Rock chart. Written by singer Natalie Merchant and guitarist Rob Buck, “What’s the Matter Here?” has an upbeat tempo and breezy melody that belies its dark lyrics, which focus on suspected child abuse at the neighbors’ house. One critic said, “The album proves powerful not only for the ideas in the lyrics but also for the graceful execution and pure listenability of the music.” 10,000 Maniacs released several more successful LPs before Merchant left for a solo career in 1993.

“Still Searching,” The Kinks, 1993

While The Kinks had a half-dozen hit singles as a “British Invasion” band in the ’60s, and a #1 with “Lola” in 1970, I always thought radio programmers missed the boat with these guys. Sure, songwriter Ray Davies sometimes went on tangents with eccentric concept albums, but their 25-album catalog is overflowing with catchy pop and straight-ahead rock tunes that should’ve been much bigger on US charts. Their albums in the ’80s sold pretty well here, but only “Come Dancing” made any waves on the Top 40. By 1993, as the band was sputtering to a halt, no one seemed to pay attention to what became their final LP, “Phobia,” which featured the scathing rocker “Hatred” and the charming, melodious “Still Searching.”

“Fig Tree Bay,” Peter Frampton, 1972

Frampton was only 18 when he joined forces with Steve Marriott (ex-Small Faces) to form raucous boogie band Humble Pie in 1969. By 1971, he chose to go solo, writing, producing, singing and playing multiple instruments on his debut LP “Winds of Change,” which had a much greater melodic sensibility than Humble Pie’s oeuvre. Most of the songs featured Frampton on both acoustic and electric guitar, and I recently came across “Fig Tree Bay,” the opening track, and found it engaging. He built a modest following in the US on four solo albums in the mid-’70s before the dam burst open with his double live album “Frampton Comes Alive,” a multiplatinum game-changer that topped the charts for 10 weeks in 1976. I recommend you check out his early studio releases for some truly lost classics.

“World in Changes,” Dave Mason, 1970

Much like fellow UK star Frampton, Mason is accomplished as a singer/songwriter as well as both an acoustic and electric guitarist. After two albums as a member of Traffic, Mason found himself at odds with de facto leader Steve Winwood and went the solo route in 1970, finding success right away with the appealing “Alone Together” LP. Aided by the likes of Leon Russell, Delaney & Bonnie and Rita Coolidge, Mason churned out eight memorable tracks, most notably “Only You Know and I Know,” “Sad and Deep as You” and the marvelous “World in Changes.” He toured relentlessly throughout the ’70s and had his biggest hit in 1977 with the 12-string workout, “We Just Disagree.”

“Oh Yeah!” Roxy Music, 1980

By the time “Flesh + Blood,” Roxy Music’s seventh LP, was released, the band once known for dissonant art rock had evolved its sound into a sleeker, more sophisticated vibe, due in large part to the influence of singer Bryan Ferry. A dreamy, melodic song like “Oh Yeah!” was an early indicator of the kind of music Ferry would write for Roxy’s celebrated swan song, “Avalon,” in 1982, and on his many solo albums over the next 30-plus years. Roxy as a band and Ferry on his own were always a bigger deal in the UK than in the US, but I consider myself among American music lovers who have found Ferry’s later offerings more pleasing to the ear than the early Roxy stuff. “Oh Yeah!” is a classic case in point.

“Hey Papa,” Terence Boylan, 1977

Bet you’ve never heard of this guy, which is a shame. Born and raised in Buffalo, Boylan moved to Greenwich Village in the mid-’60s, and after enrolling at Bard College, he became friends with Walter Becker and Donald Fagen in their pre-Steely Dan years. Boylan wrote and sang his own songs, and his self-titled second album got some airplay and solid critical praise but made no dent in the US charts, even though it contains several great tracks (“Where Are You Hiding,” “Don’t Hang Up Those Dancing Shoes”). One song from the album, “Shake It,” became a minor hit when covered by Ian Matthews in 1978. I’ve always been partial to a pretty piano-based song called “Hey Papa,” about a character who’s a rumrunner in the Florida Keys. Since 1980, he has retired from performing and instead focuses on songwriting and film soundtracks.

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Although I enjoy discovering new artists and new releases, diving into the albums of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s is still one of my favorite pasttimes. There was SO MUCH great music made in those decades, and I love unearthing the deeper tracks, the “lost classics,” to give them exposure to my Hack’s Back Pages audience.

Readers tell me they love these forays into our collective past, so I hope you enjoy this week’s batch.  As is customary, there’s a Spotify playlist at the end so you can listen as you read.

Rock on, music lovers!

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“Dance on a Volcano,” Genesis, 1976

In 1975, when Genesis vocalist/frontman Peter Gabriel announced he was leaving at the end of the band’s “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” tour, many observers figured it would be the end of the group.  Gabriel’s distinctive voice and mesmerizing stage presence were arguably the most important elements of the band’s success.  Granted, keyboardist Tony Banks, guitarist Steve Hackett, bassist Mike Rutherford and drummer Phil Collins were all superb musicians who contributed mightily to the songwriting and arrangements… but who would sing?  As the story goes, they apparently auditioned nearly 200 vocalists (!) before they found the answer right in their own back yard.  Phil Collins, it turned out, had the uncanny ability to sound a lot like Gabriel, especially in the studio, where they came up with an astounding transitional LP, “A Trick of the Tail,” featuring eight songs of fantasy/progressive rock much like the stuff they’d been churning out with Gabriel.  The excellent opening track, “Dance on a Volcano,” is perhaps the best example of this Genesis 2.0 model, which had a shelf life of about five years before a much more commercially oriented Genesis 3.0 version evolved around 1980.

“Out in the Country,” Three Dog Night, 1970

Perhaps my favorite song from the Three Dog Night catalog is this pretty piece from their “It Ain’t Easy” LP in the fall of 1970.  This group was famous for recording tunes written by other notable composers, from Harry Nilsson (“One”) and Randy Newman (“Mama Told Me Not to Come”) to Laura Nyro (“Eli’s Comin'”) and Hoyt Axton (“Joy to the World”).  “Out in the Country,” which reached #15 on the singles chart, was no exception — it was written by Paul Williams and Roger Nichols, known for white-bread commercial fare like The Carpenters’ hits “We’ve Only Just Begun” and “Rainy Days and Mondays,” as well as another 3DN song, “Just an Old Fashioned Love Song.”  The track was the group’s only hit that featured unison vocals instead of featuring one lead vocalist.  Its lyrics, which cry for concern for the environment, are every bit as relevant today as we continue to face threats to the planet’s future:  “Before the breathing air is gone, before the sun is just a bright spot on the nighttime…”

“Rehumanize Yourself,” Police, 1981

Slickly produced and full of diverse, engaging songs, The Police’s “Ghost in the Machine” continued the British band’s musical evolution as one of the top artists of the early Eighties.  The group maintained the foothold in punk and reggae they’d been featuring since their 1978 debut, but this album was more New Wave, introducing synthesizers and even horns to the mix.  Hits included the catchy “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic” and “Spirits in the Material World,” but just as intriguing were deep tracks like “Secret Journey,” “Darkness, “One World” and my favorite, the uptempo “Rehumanize Yourself.”  They would go on to rule the airwaves and the charts two years later with their final LP, “Synchronicity,” before songwriter/singer Sting headed out for a long solo career.

“Echoes of Love,” Doobie Brothers, 1977

In 1976, medical conditions caused singer-guitarist-songwriter Tom Johnston to withdraw from the band he had formed six years earlier.  To replace him (temporarily), the Doobies recruited Steely Dan background vocalist Michael McDonald, who turned out to be a pretty decent songwriter as well, although his stuff was markedly different from Johnston’s rock ‘n roll boogie.  The Doobies began a new phase in their career with “Takin’ It to the Streets,” a solid album with one Johnston song amidst a half dozen McDonald-led numbers.  Throughout all of this, there was always another vital piece of the band’s sound:  singer-songwriter-guitarist Patrick Simmons, who had been responsible for tunes like “Black Water,” “South City Midnight Lady,” “Toulouse Street” and others.  On the 1977 LP “Livin’ on the Fault Line,” Simmons shines brightly on his outstanding song “Echoes of Love,” with McDonald on harmonies and the venerable California band sounding as tight as ever.

“Car on a Hill,” Joni Mitchell, 1974

What a marvelous track from a perfect album!  Together with the live “Miles of Aisles” LP that followed it, “Court and Spark” was Mitchell’s high-water mark commercially — both albums went Top Five — but she soon tired of “stoking the star-maker machinery behind the popular song” and began writing and recording with top-flight jazz artists through the rest of the ’70s.  Joni is one of only a handful of songwriters whose lyrics and music are of equally fine caliber.  In particular, “Car on a Hill” has a fabulous melody and arrangement, and the words do a beautiful job of describing the angst of waiting by the window for the unfaithful lover’s car that never comes:  “He said he’d be over three hours ago… Now where in the city can that boy be?, waitin’ for a car, climbin’, climbin’, climbin’ the hill…”

“Go Back Home,” Stephen Stills (with Eric Clapton), 1970

After the implosion of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young in the summer of 1970, each went off to make solo LPs, although they made guest appearances on each others’ albums.  Stephen Stills had headed to London to record with a broad array of musicians, including the legendary Jimi Hendrix, who added guitar on “Old Times Good Times” only a month before his death.  More impressive, however, was the contribution from Eric Clapton, who offered up a scorching performance on the second half of Stills’ mid-tempo shuffle “Go Back Home,” arguably one of Clapton’s best guest solos.  (It was recorded at the same session that produced “Let It Rain” and “After Midnight” for Clapton’s solo debut LP that same year.)  You need to crank up this one!

“All the Things She Said,” Simple Minds, 1985

One of England’s greatest bands of the 80s and ’90s got its start in the late ’70s but didn’t have much success on the UK charts until their fourth album in 1981, when they began a string of seven Top Five albums (including three #1 LPs) through 1995.  Here in the US, their impact was far more brief.  They contributed the huge #1 hit “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” to the John Hughes teen comedy classic “The Breakfast Club” in early 1985, and followed that with a Top Ten charting for their “Once Upon a Time” LP, spawning two big hits, “Alive and Kicking” (#3) and “Sanctify Yourself” (#14).  It was the third single, “All the Things She Said” (which managed only #28), that always struck my fancy.  Lead singer Jim Kerr and guitarist Charlie Burchill, the band’s chief songwriting team, really hit their stride with this album, but I never understood why the next several Simple Minds releases (1989’s “Street Fighting Years,” 1991’s “Real Life” and 1995’s Good News From the Next World”) stiffed in the US, because they’re full of excellent material in the same vein as “Once Upon a Time.”

“Gypsy,” Moody Blues, 1969

It should have happened about 20 years earlier, but the great Moody Blues were finally inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2018.  There has been so much great music from these pioneers of British progressive rock, especially the seven albums they released in the 1967-1972 period.  Their fourth LP, 1969’s “To Our Children’s Children’s Children,” had no hit singles, but charted high on the album charts (#2 in the UK, #14 in the US).  Released shortly after the moon landing, the album explored the cosmic themes of space travel and children, and the legacy of the human race.  The standout track for me was “Gypsy,” yet another amazing song by the consistent singer/guitarist Justin Hayward, who wrote the majority of their better known tunes.

“Caroline,” Jefferson Starship, 1974

Singer/songwriter Marty Balin formed the Jefferson Airplane in 1965 in San Francisco when he met up with guitarist/singer Paul Kantner, and with the addition of Grace Slick, they became household names in the late ’60s as voices of the counterculture.  But the group crashed and burned in 1972, with Balin bailing out when Kantner kept advocating his wild-eyed sci-fi/fantasy themes.  By 1974, Kantner and Slick had teamed with new instrumentalists and re-introduced themselves as Jefferson Starship.  “Dragonfly,” their first LP with that lineup, was a delicious surprise, highlighted by great stuff like “Ride the Tiger,” “That’s For Sure” and “All Fly Away.”  The sleeper track, though, was “Caroline,” written and sung by none other than Balin, who was coaxed to participate.  It’s a gorgeous power ballad, actually better than the huge hit “Miracles” he wrote for the “Red Octopus” #1 LP the following year.

“Why Must I,” ‘Til Tuesday, 1988

Singer-songwriter Aimee Mann was the primary talent behind the ’80s alt-rock group ‘Til Tuesday, who emerged out of Boston in 1985 with the LP and Top Ten single “Voices Carry.”  They lasted for two more albums before Mann headed out on her own in 1992, and she’s still touring today.  I always thought ‘Til Tuesday’s second and third LPs — “Welcome Home” (1986) and “Everything’s Different Now” (1988) — were very underrated.  “Coming Up Close” and “What About Love” made modest dents in the singles charts, but there were eight or ten other strong songs worthy of attention.  My favorite was “Why Must I” from the 1988 LP, which features a catchy melody, inventive arrangement and great performance by Mann and her band.

“With You There to Help Me,” Jethro Tull, 1970

Tull’s 1969 second album “Stand Up” went to #1 in England, and their monumental fourth LP, 1971’s “Aqualung,” was Jethro Tull’s greatest international success, but sometimes overlooked is their third effort, 1970’s “Benefit.”  It’s among their hardest rocking collections ever, with the minor hit “Teacher” appearing on the US version of the album.  Ian Anderson on flute and vocals and Martin Barre on guitar were, as always, the key elements of Tull’s sound, with John Evan adding keyboard parts on some tracks for the first time.  FM stations in the US gave airplay to a few tracks, most notably “To Cry You a Song” and the prog rock beauty “With You There to Help Me,” which includes a great lyric in the chorus about the warm feeling you get when you return home:  “I’m going back to the ones that I know, with whom I can be what I want to be…”

“The Back Seat of My Car,” Paul McCartney, 1971

In the wake of The Beatles’ breakup in 1970, each member’s solo career was put under the microscope for intense scrutiny, as many observers felt their solo work could never measure up to the work of the band as a whole.  McCartney in particular took a lot of heat for writing and recording a lot of slight, inconsequential stuff, but he was always able to come up with two or three really excellent tracks on every album.  From the 1971 LP “Ram” (credited to Paul & Linda McCartney), which spawned the cutesy #1 hit “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey,” by far the strongest moment was the album closer, “The Back Seat of My Car,” beautifully arranged and performed, full of lush orchestration and voices, solid electric guitar by Paul, and a memorable repeated chorus, “Ohhh, we believe that we can’t be wrong…”

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