Here we go again. Everything new.

New Year’s resolutions. Turning over a new leaf. New beginnings. New goals.

When it comes to music, I’ve become a firm advocate of the practice of listening to new artists with new albums full of new songs. But seeing as this is a blog about rock music of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s, I only rarely write about new artists here. The closest I get, I suppose, is when a vintage artist like Robert Plant or Paul McCartney releases something new that I want to spotlight.

In this post, just for fun, I draw attention to rock songs with “new” in the title. Some of these will be new to you, no doubt, while others are probably old familiar friends. As is customary, I have included a Spotify playlist at the end. I hope you enjoy these tunes as you dive into another new year!

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“New,” Paul McCartney, 2013

The diversity of styles and sounds on McCartney’s 2013 LP “New” is due in part to him using four different producers. Mark Hanson, who has worked with artists like Adele, Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus and Bruno Mars, oversaw production of the horn-rich title track, which has what The Daily Telegraph referred to as a “jaunty, Beatlesque stomp.” Said McCartney about the song’s lyrics: “It’s a love song but it’s saying, ‘Don’t look at me, I haven’t got any answers.’ It says, ‘I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know how it’s all happening, but it’s good and I love you.'” A sampling: “You came along and made my life a song, one lucky day, you came along, /Just in time, while I was searching for a rhyme, you came along, then we were new…”

“New Train,” John Prine, 1995

The late great Prine may be getting increased attention posthumously since his passing in 2020, but upon its release in 1995, “Lost Dogs and Mixed Blessings” was just another in a string of hugely underrated and neglected gems in his wonderful catalog. Heartbreakers bassist Howie Epstein produced this LP, and some say he over-produced it, as evidenced by the sound on the leadoff track, “New Train,” with its upfront drums-bass-keyboards mix, but to me, it sounds right for the optimism expressed in the lyrics: “I’ll be leaving on a new train, far away from this world of pain, /The friends that greet me will be simple and plain when I step down from that new train…”

“New Frontier,” Donald Fagen, 1982

When Steely Dan went on hiatus in 1981 to give Walter Becker a chance to recover from health issues, Fagen went ahead with “The Nightfly,” a solo project that presented a cycle of songs about the late ’50s/early ’60s when he was growing up in New Jersey. The tracks include “The Nightfly,” about a DJ on a late-night jazz station; “I.G.Y.,” about the “International Geophysical Year” of 1957; and “New Frontier,” the Kennedy campaign slogan of hope in a time of Cold War realities in 1960: “Let’s pretend that it’s the real thing and stay together all night long, /And when I really get to know you, we’ll open up the doors and climb into the dawn, /Confess your passion, your secret fear, prepare to meet the challenge of the new frontier…”

“I’m New,” Stevie Wonder, 1995

From 1972 to 1987, Wonder released a series of acclaimed masterpieces that routinely reached the Top Five on US album charts. He seemed to take a break in the early ’90s, but it turned out he had written nearly four dozen songs and was merely taking his time developing and recording them. The resultant LP, “Conversation Peace,” arrived in 1995, full of typically melodious, effervescent music that didn’t bend to the times as much as reinvent his patented style. Take “I’m New,” a gorgeous tune that explores the idea of a person whose life had been devoid of love until fate intervened: “I’m new, new like the fresh morning dew, new like a work of art that’s finally through, /I’m new, new like a first flight of a dove, so safe and secure with your love, I’m new…”

“You Make Me Feel Brand New,” The Stylistics, 1974

Thom Bell is the multi-talented writer/arranger/producer who played a key role in the success of the Philadelphia soul vocal groups like the Spinners, the Delfonics, the O’Jays and the Stylistics. Bell and lyricist Linda Creed collaborated on numerous top R&B hits, both ballads and uptempo numbers. The Stylistics, led by tenor Airrion Love and falsetto king Russell Thompkins, scored a half-dozen Top 20 hits with Bell/Creed tunes in the early ’70s, none bigger than their #2 smash “You Make Me Feel Brand New,” a heartfelt song of devotion: “Only you cared when I needed a friend, believed in me through thick and thin, /This song is for you, filled with gratitude and love, /God bless you, you make me feel brand new…”

“Brand New Day,” Van Morrison, 1970

As he was composing the songs for his brilliant “Moondance” LP, Morrison said he was inspired to write “Brand New Day” after hearing The Band’s “The Weight” on the radio. “I looked up at the sky and the sun started to shine,” he said, “and all of a sudden the song just came through my head. It’s the song on the ‘Moondance’ album that worked best to my ear, and the one which I felt most in touch with.” Critic John Tobler said the song had “a celebratory air, bordering on spiritual joy.”: “Well it shines so bright and it gives so much light, and it comes from the sky above, /Makes me feel so free, makes me feel like me, and lights my life with love, /And it seems like, and it feels like, and it seems like, yes it feels like a brand new day…”

“New Tune,” James Taylor, 1972

One of Taylor’s most overlooked albums, and a favorite of mine, is “One Man Dog,” coming on the heels of his hugely successful “Sweet Baby James” and “Mud Slide Slim” LPs. It offers 18 tracks, some of them less than a minute long, in a sort of suite that holds together as a charming entity rather than as individual songs. There are exceptions, however — “Don’t Let Me Be Lonely Tonight” is a jazzy stand-alone that did well as a single, and “One Man Parade” is a great album opener. I’ve always been fond of “New Tune,” a brief, wistful piece of unfinished business that marries Taylor’s guitar and voice with Carole King’s delicate piano and some gentle bongos.

“New Morning,” Bob Dylan, 1970

Beginning in 1968, Dylan had begun to chafe against the “leader of a generation” moniker that critics had saddled him with, and he withdrew to a simpler, more rural lifestyle with family in upstate New York. His 1970 LP “New Morning” is full of songs reflecting Dylan’s more relaxed approach. The Guardian‘s Geoffrey Cannon described the title track as “a marvelous song, pointing to all our best hopes” in its celebration of the simple pleasures of nature and the senses: “Can’t you feel that sun a-shining, groundhog running by the country stream, /This must be the day when all of my dreams come true, /So happy just to be alive underneath the sky of blue on this new morning, new morning, on this new morning with you…”

“Skating Away on the Thin Ice of the New Day,” Jethro Tull, 1974

Following two dense, complicated albums each comprised of 45-minute compositions (“Thick as a Brick” and “A Passion Play”), Tull leader Ian Anderson opted to write “War Child,” an album of more upbeat, radio-friendly tunes that retained the key elements of the band’s sound: wailing flute, crunching electric guitar, sprightly acoustic guitar and Anderson’s spirited vocals and clever lyrics. “Skating Away” speaks with optimism about facing a new world where, in the early ’70s, it was predicted cooler climates would prevail. Although later proven incorrect, it nonetheless reinforces our need to adapt to new challenges: “And as you cross the wilderness, spinning in your emptiness, you feel you have to pray, /Looking for a sign that the Universal Mind has written you into the Passion Play, /Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day…”

“New Kid in Town,” John David Souther, 2011

J.D. Souther, an occasional collaborator with Glenn Frey and Don Henley in the ’70s, had written the chorus to “New Kid in Town” in 1974 but didn’t know what to do with it. When Frey and Henley were working on material for the “Hotel California” sessions in 1976, Souther brought them the unfinished tune and they completed it together, making it about “the fleeing, fickle nature of romance, and of fame,” said Henley: “There’s talk on the street, it’s there to remind you… /They will never forget you ’til somebody new comes along, /Where you’ve been lately? There’s a new kid in town, /Everybody loves him, don’t they? Now he’s holding her, and you’re still around…” It was another #1 hit for The Eagles, and 35 years later, Souther recorded his own pretty rendition that I’ve featured here instead of the familiar Eagles version.

“New Faces,” The Rolling Stones, 1994

It wasn’t all that unusual for the Stones to throw in an acoustic ballad when recording a new album, but it was a surprise when we heard a harpsichord dominate the arrangement of “New Faces” on their 1994 LP “Voodoo Lounge.” It had been nearly 30 years since songs like 1966’s “Lady Jane” and 1967’s “Dandelion” had featured Brian Jones on harpsichord giving the tracks an almost regal flavor. This tune’s lyrics focus on a woman who is falling for a new guy who is not who he seems: “There’s a new guy in town, he’s been dragging around, /He’s the figure of youth and his eyes are so blue… /And his skin is so fair and it shines like his hair as he stands so aloof with an indolent air, and an insolent stare that just shutters the truth…”

“New World,” Robert Plant, 2017

I really admire Plant’s perseverance as a recording artist in the 40+ years since the demise of Led Zeppelin. He may have resisted calls to reunite and tour with his former bandmates except for a couple of isolated instances, but he has moved forward admirably with more than a dozen albums, trying new sounds and new collaborations (Alison Krauss?!). On his 2017 LP “Carry Fire,” Plant again teamed up with the Sensational Space Shifters as his backing band, and “New World” is one of the better tracks: “With songs, we praise a happy landing on yet another virgin shore, /Escape the old world, embrace the new world, /Out here, the immigrant takes all…”

“New Horizons,” The Moody Blues, 1972

During The Moodies’ 1967-1973 period of mind-bending albums and songs, they developed a reputation among fans for almost guru-like wisdom, which began to feel like an albatross at times. On the band’s “Seventh Sojourn” album in 1972, John Lodge responded with a song that admonished his fans, “I’m just a singer in a rock and roll band.” Still, this was always an egalitarian group, with each member contributing songs, and guitarist/singer Justin Hayward’s “New Horizons” continued his penchant for philosophical lyrics: “Well, I’ve had dreams enough for one, and I got love enough for three, /I have my hopes to comfort me, I got my new horizons out to sea…”

“New Killer Star,” David Bowie, 2003

On this 2003 LP, Bowie had said he remained typically obtuse in his lyrics, but noted, “I think there are times when I’m stretched to at least implicate what’s happening politically in the songs that I’m writing, and there was some nod, in a very abstract way, toward the wrongs that are being made at the moment.” On the opening track, “New Killer Star” (a poke at the way the President pronounced “nuclear”), he was referring to the U.S. military presence in the Middle East in response to 9/11: “See the great white scar over Battery Park, then a flare glides over, but I won’t look at that scar, /Oh, my nuclear baby, we’ll discover a star, /Oh, my idiot trance, all my idiot questions, /Like the stars in your eyes, let’s face the music and dance…”

“Brand New Day,” Sting, 1999

Since leaving The Police in 1984, Sting churned out one consistently strong album after another for 20 years, with each LP demonstrating maturity and an increasing degree of sophistication in songwriting. He has also chosen some of the world’s greatest musicians to appear on various tracks, including Brandford Marsalis, Annie Lennox, Mark Knopfler, David Sancious, Wayne Jackson, Cheb Mami and, on the title track of his “Brand New Day” album, the great Stevie Wonder on harmonica. “Why don’t we turn the clock to zero, honey, I’ll sell the stock, we’ll spend all the money, /We’re starting up a brand new day, /Turn the clock to zero, boss, the river’s wide, we’ll swim across, /We started up a brand new day…”

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I consider myself a risk-averse person. I’m not comfortable getting involved in risky investments or placing bets where anything really bad can happen. Playing games of chance — midway games, roulette, Blackjack — is just not my idea of a good time.

Many millions take a different view. To them, gambling in Vegas or on football games is the height of entertainment, but for me, I’m so afraid of the possible disastrous result that I can’t get excited about the possible favorable result. So it’s not fun, and it’s not a good use of my entertainment dollar.

But we all gamble at some point in our lives. We gamble when we make outdoor plans on days when it might rain. We gamble on getting to the plane departure on time even though there’s a pretty good chance that traffic will cause delays. Perhaps most notably, we gamble our hearts on a romantic relationship when there may be evidence that the other person may not be entirely honest.

Songwriters love the topic of gambling. A brief search of songs from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s produced several dozen big hits and deep tracks that address the exhilarating highs and excruciating lows of gambling. Some mourn the fate of the gambling addict who can’t quit even when he has lost everything.

I’ve selected a baker’s dozen classic songs about gambling, from rock to blues to country to swing, and another dozen or so “honorable mentions,” and all are included in a Spotify playlist at the end of the piece.

I’ll wager you enjoy these tunes!

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“Go Down Gamblin’,” Blood, Sweat and Tears, 1971

This was actually the first “rock band with jazz horns” to make out big, preceding Chicago by a year or two. With Canadian David Clayton-Thomas as front man, BS&T struck gold in 1969 with three huge hit singles — “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy,” “Spinning Wheel” and “And When I Die.” Funny thing, though — neither rock fans nor jazz fans never quite accepted them because their attempts at merging the genres were often awkward and unappealing. “Go Down Gamblin’,” a rocker that stalled at #32 in 1971, began the disintegration of the band’s original lineup and their commercial success as well. But it has a great lyric by Clayton-Thomas about a guy who loses at gambling but has been lucky at love: “Down in a crap game, I’ve been losin’ at roulette, /Cards are bound to break me, but I ain’t busted yet /’Cause I’ve been called a natural lover by that lady over there…”

“Lady Luck,” Kenny Loggins, 1977

In 1971, Loggins was assigned to producer Jim Messina for his first LP. Messina ended up playing guitar, singing and writing songs as well, so the LP was aptly titled “Kenny Loggins With Jim Messina Sittin’ In.” That turned out to be the genesis of a successful five-year career arc as Loggins and Messina before Loggins finally released his true solo debut, the splendid “Celebrate Me Home,” in 1977. The opening track, “Lady Luck,” is a captivating Loggins tune with lyrics by John Townsend of Sanford-Townsend Band. Townsend tells the tale of a man who left his “lady luck” for another woman and consequently lost his luck at gambling as well: “7-11 he rolled, and all his life was a golden gamble, /You’d see him reeling it in when the odds were high, /Something supernatural, a charlatan, a mastermind, or some lucky lady, or some jealous lady, /Kiss your lucky lady goodbye…”

“Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man,” Bob Seger System, 1968

Long before “Night Moves,” “Against The Wind” and the string of Top Ten LPs and other hit singles he charted with The Silver Bullet Band in the 1976-1987 period, Bob Seger was an up-and-coming rock singer-songwriter out of the heartland city of Detroit, Michigan. In 1968, he assembled a band he called the Bob Seger System and, right out of the box, he scored a #17 hit on the US charts with “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man.” It has a standard ’60s rock song structure, carried by relentless organ and a 4/4 beat. Little known fact: Singing backup and adding acoustic guitar to the track was Seger’s young pal Glenn Frey, who would soon be a founding member of The Eagles. Seger’s lyrics on this tune are simple: “I’m out of money…and I must run…” The narrator likes to gamble, but he’s got to ramble, and at only 13. Whether it’s because he can’t pay his debts is unclear.

“Deal,” Jerry Garcia, 1972

Garcia, the man known as “Captain Trips,” the spiritual leader, guitarist, singer and songwriter for The Grateful Dead, was an enormously influential musician who enjoyed and performed a broad range of musical styles with the band and in various side projects during his 30-year career from the mid-’60s until his death in 1995. On his first solo record, “Garcia” (1972), he reverted to a “barroom rock and roll” sound on the wonderful opener, “Deal,” co-written with his longtime lyrics collaborator Robert Hunter, who espoused a “take your time, be prepared for anything approach to life: “I been gamblin’ hereabouts for ten good solid years, /If I told you all that went down it would burn off both of your ears, /Goes to show you don’t ever know, /Watch each card you play and play it slow, /Wait until that deal come round, don’t you let that deal go down, no, no…”

“The King of Hearts,” Procol Harum, 1991

I find it outrageous that Procol Harum, arguably the true pioneers of the British progressive rock genre (1967-1977), still haven’t been inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame while their many successors (Pink Floyd, Genesis, Yes) all have. In 1991, four founding members — singer/pianist Gary Brooker, organist Matthew Fisher, guitarist Robin Trower and lyricist Terry Reid — reunited to write and record a strong group of new songs for “The Prodigal Stranger,” which didn’t chart well but sparked a successful tour in the US and Europe. My favorite track is “The King of Hearts,” carried by Brooker’s soulful vocals and great lyrics by Reid: “Yes I played the King of Hearts, put my cards out on the table, /I thought the odds were in my favour, /But she laid the Ace of Spades, and I wound up where I started, /The King of Hearts no more, but the King of the Broken-hearted…”

“Draw of the Cards,” Kim Carnes, 1981

It took ten years between Carnes’s debut LP in 1971 and the runaway commercial success she achieved with her “Mistaken Identity” LP and its international #1 single “Bette Davis Eyes.” Her first taste of fame came in 1979 with her song “Don’t Fall in Love With a Dreamer,” a Top Five duet with Kenny Rogers, followed by her cover of Smokey Robinson’s “More Love” the same year. Although “Bette Davis Eyes” got most of the attention on “Mistaken Identity,” I’ve always been partial to “Draw of the Cards,” a modest #27 single carried by swirling organ/synthesizer that is “intoxicating in its creepiness,” as one critic put it. The lyrics emphasize how big a part luck plays in games of chance: “Drop the cards, watch the eyes, /Down and dirty, let ’em ride… /Ace is high, deuce is low, /Take the first, the rest should go, /And it’s all in the draw of the cards…”

“Losing Hand,” Ray Charles, 1953

Early in his career, before his mainstream hits like “What’d I Say,” “Georgia On My Mind,” “Hit the Road Jack” and “Unchain My Heart,” Ray Charles cut his teeth on traditional blues tunes. In 1953, in the same recording session that produced his first chart success, “Mess Around,” Charles recorded a smoldering slow blues tune called “Losing Hand” by Jesse Stone (known for writing the rock classic “Shake, Rattle and Roll”). Stone might’ve been the first to compare a losing poker hand to a failed relationship: “While I was playing fair, baby, you played a cheating game, /I know you don’t care, but I love you just the same, /I thought I’d be your king, baby, yes and you could be my queen, /But you used me for your joker ’cause I thought your deal was clean, /The way you did me pretty baby, I declare I never understand, /I gambled on your love, baby, and got a losing hand…”

“Luck Be a Lady,” Frank Sinatra, 1965

Veteran Broadway composer Frank Loesser came up with “Luck Be a Lady” in 1950 for the musical production of “Guys and Dolls.” It has since become a standard, with notable recordings by Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, Brian Setzer and Seal. In the play, the bold gambler Sky Masterson tries to put one over on Sarah Brown, a straight-arrow woman who runs the local mission, but he finds himself developing real feelings for her. He makes a last-ditch bet in hopes of winning back her affections, and in the song, Loesser characterizes “Luck” as a woman who’s flighty and disloyal, with Sky begging her to be on his side (and stay by his side) that evening: “A lady doesn’t leave her escort, it isn’t fair, it isn’t nice, /A lady doesn’t wander all over the room and blow on some other guy’s dice, /So stick with me, baby, I’m the guy that you came in with, /Luck, be a lady tonight…”

“Viva Las Vegas,” Elvis Presley, 1964

Jerome Felder, who used the stage name Doc Pomus, wrote the lyrics while collaborator Mort Shuman came up with the melody for this vivacious rocker that served as the title song for one of Presley’s many film vehicles of the 1960s. Despite its cardboard plot and quickie production schedule, “Viva Las Vegas” was a big box office hit, thanks to co-star Ann-Margret, with whom Presley enjoyed genuine sexual chemistry, and the single reached #29 in the US. The lyrics summarize the fun-loving appeal and excitement of the gambling options to be found in the Vegas casinos: “Oh, there’s blackjack and poker and the roulette wheel, /A fortune won and lost on every deal, /All you need’s a strong heart and a nerve of steel… /I’m gonna give it everything I’ve got, /Lady luck, please let the dice stay hot, /Let me shoot a seven with every shot, /Viva Las Vegas…”

“The Turn of a Friendly Card,” Alan Parsons Project, 1980

For his fifth LP, Parsons and his collaborator Ian Woolfson put together a song cycle centered around the theme of gambling and its addictive dangers. In addition to the hit singles “Games People Play” and “Time,” the album includes a five-song suite that includes such tracks as “Snake Eyes” and “Nothing Left to Lose.” The highlight for me is the two-part title piece, which features Chris Rainbow on lead vocals. The lyrics capture how the thrill of gambling can devolve into a feeling of uncomfortable dread that can’t be escaped: “There are unsmiling faces and bright plastic chains, and a wheel in perpetual motion, /And they follow the races and pay out the gains with no show of an outward emotion, /And they think it will make their lives easier, for God knows up ’til now it’s been hard, /But the game never ends when your whole world depends on the turn of a friendly card…”

“Gambler’s Roll,” Allman Brothers Band, 1990

After being inactive for much of the 1980s, the Allman Brothers Band came storming back in the 1990s with great new albums and sold-out tours. The 1990 LP “Seven Turns” kicked things off nicely, with strong songs like Gregg Allman’s “Good Clean Fun” and Dickey Betts’ “Seven Turns.” The group had been reinforced with the addition of guitarist Warren Haynes and pianist Johnny Neel, who combined forces on a seething slow blues tune called “Gambler’s Roll.” Allman’s weary blues voice delivers the lyrics like no one else can, commiserating about the sorry plight of the gambler and the woman who loves him: “Cold wind blows a young girl’s world apart, she bet it all on the jack of hearts, /Gained her freedom but lost her soul on a gambler’s roll… You know the gambler he rides on a fool’s train, tradin’ silver for gold, /Oh, but his luck will change, time takes its toll on a gambler’s roll…”

“The Dealer,” Stevie Nicks, 1979/2014

When Fleetwood Mac were riding at their highest, Nicks was writing a lot of songs, more than could be squeezed onto the group’s albums because Christine McVie and Lindsay Buckingham had plenty of songs too. When the Nicks tune “The Dealer” was recorded but then rejected for inclusion on 1979’s “Tusk,” it emboldened her decision to begin a concurrent solo career. She ended up releasing seven successful audio albums between 1981 and 2011 but never found space for “The Dealer” until she re-recorded it and many other shelved tracks for her 2014 LP “24 Karat Gold: Songs From the Vault.” Its lyrics describe how she saw herself as the dealer in her own life’s card game, but she made mistakes: “Ooh, I was the dealer, and it wasn’t hard, /I was the mistress of my fate, I was the card shark, /If I’d looked a little ahead, I’d’ve run away…”

“The Gambler,” Kenny Rogers, 1978

Rogers had tasted fame and fortune with his ’60s band The First Edition, who scored hits with pop psychedelia (“Just Dropped In”) as well as pop country (“Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town”). By the late ’70s, he was one of country music’s biggest stars, with multiple Top Five albums and singles on the country charts as well as occasional crossover success on the pop charts. “Lucille” reached #5 in 1977, followed by the Don Schlitz tune “The Gambler” at #16, which became one of Rogers’ signature songs. The lyrics impart a life lesson and a cautionary tale: “You’ve got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em, /Know when to walk away, and know when to run, /You never count your money when you’re sittin’ at the table, /There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done…”

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Honorable mentions:

“There’s a Place in the World For a Gambler,” Dan Fogelberg, 1974; “Ooh Las Vegas,” Gram Parsons, 1973; “Lily, Rosemary & the Jack of Hearts,” Bob Dylan, 1975; “Gambler,” Whitesnake, 1984; “Easy Money,” Billy Joel, 1983; “Shape Of My Heart,” Sting, 1994; “I Feel Lucky,” Mary Chapin Carpenter, 1992; “Gambler’s Blues,” Otis Rush, 1969; “Tumbling Dice,” The Rolling Stones, 1972; “Desperado,” The Eagles, 1973; “The Card Cheat,” The Clash, 1981; “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot,” Jerry Reed, 1971; “Roulette,” Bruce Springsteen, 1980/1998; “Do It Again,” Steely Dan, 1972.