Is there anybody going to listen to my story?

To tell a story in a compelling way is an art; to do it to a melody is a wondrous thing.

For probably a thousand years or more, great stories of myth, legend and history have been told in song.  In the past century, the country, folk and blues genres have told hundreds and hundreds of tales of heartbreak, tales of war and famine, tales of love and tradition.  These story-songs had characters, a plot, and a message, much like a well-crafted short story in literature.

Not surprisingly, these ballads tended to last five or six minutes or longer, which largely prevented them from making the pop charts, where the average song lasted no more than three minutes, which is hardly enough time for the lyrics to say much of anything beyond “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” or “I want to hold your hand.”

Still, some songwriters  — country, pop, rock — through the decades have shown a fine talent for telling riveting stories in a succinct enough way that they ended up as chart successes, with a beginning, middle and end, even if they went a little beyond the conventional song length.  I’ve selected a handful of tracks that offer a healthy cross section of story-songs from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s.  Some topped the singles charts, some were far more obscure tracks by major artists, but all are fascinating stories set to song.

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“Taxi,” Harry Chapin, 1972  

81Gd3K9ctQL._SL1416_Great story-songs paint an aural picture, a visual place where we can understand what’s going on with the lead characters.  In the case of this remembrance from Chapin’s real past, there’s Harry, the taxi driver, and Sue, the wealthy lady who was once his lover.  They meet again by chance when she hails his cab, and they share an uneasy moment.  “She was gonna be an actress, and I was gonna learn to fly…”  Neither one achieved their dreams, evidently, but as they part, he appears to be content just driving a cab, while she seems unhappy in whatever wealthy enclave she ended up.  Chapin’s debut single reached #24 on the pop charts in the fall of 1972.

“Paradise By the Dashboard Light,” Meat Loaf, 1977

meatloafThe entire “Bat Out of Hell” album was worthy material for a Broadway stage play, with multiple stories about the exploits of numerous characters conjured up by lyricist Jim Steinman for his pal, Mr. Loaf, to sing.  None was more cinematic than “Paradise By the Dashboard Light,” the vivid story of a teenage boy hoping to seduce his girlfriend.  They volley back and forth until she asks for his undying love in exchange for a night of passion (“What’s it gonna be, boy, yes or no?”  “Let me sleep on it”).  It’s still acted out all these years later by boomer men and women at bars and parties across America.

“Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” Temptations, 1972  

MI0000383010Motown artists were known for short, punchy dance tunes, but they weren’t opposed to taking a stab at the story-song.  The Temptations hit it big with this urban tale of a family who struggled to move on after their deadbeat father flew the coop and then died (“on the Third of September, a day I’ll always remember”).  It was originally recorded as an epic 12-minute track with multiple instrumental passages (including a nearly 4:00 introduction), and even the Top 40 version clocked in at nearly seven minutes.  The vocal group’s final #1 single set the tone for many more soul records that told stories over the next decade.

“Uneasy Rider,” Charlie Daniels Band, 1973

Front Cover copyThis song goes on and on with thirty (30!) triplets that tell the amusing story of a hippie from California who’s stuck in Mississippi with a flat tire and has to do some fast talking to avoid a beating from a gang of rough rednecks.  Standard country fare, perhaps, but it ended up on the mainstream Top 40 at #9 in the summer of 1973.  It helped expand the appeal of country rock beyond the confines of the Deep South, with numerous country-rock groups hitting the Top Ten over the next several years.

“Rocky Raccoon,” Beatles, 1968

beatles_1478685cBy the time of the “White Album,” the Beatles had tried just about everything in the way of song structure, so it was only a matter of time before they (actually Paul McCartney) came up with a story-song.  “Rocky Raccoon,” with an arrangement dominated by acoustic guitar and jangly piano, is basically a country-western yarn with McCartney front and center singing about South Dakota rivals Rocky and Dan, and the object of their competing affections, a girl named Magill (“who called herself Lil, but everyone knew her as Nancy”).

“A Boy Named Sue,” Johnny Cash, 1969

51nB9lgIE-L._SX300_QL70_The late great Johnny Cash was deeply rooted in country music but periodically crossed over into the pop music scene, most notably with his #2 hit “A Boy Named Sue” in 1969.  The tune tells the story of a boy whose father left his family but not before naming his son Sue to make him strong and defiant in the face of adversity.  The boy hated the name, naturally, and eventually learned why his father had done this, but vowed to name his own son “Bill, or George, or any damn thing but Sue!”

“Me and Bobby McGee,” Janis Joplin, 1971

thIn 1969, songwriter Kris Kristofferson wrote this poignant story of two drifters (male and female) trying to make something of their hardscrabble lives.  It was first recorded by Roger Miller (a #12 hit on the country charts), then by Kristofferson himself, and then Gordon Lightfoot, and in those versions Bobby (Bobbi?) was the woman.  But then it was recorded by Janis Joplin in 1970 only a few days before her death, and Bobby became the male character.  Her version went to #1 on the pop charts in the spring of 1971 and remains the definitive rendition.

“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” Gordon Lightfoot, 1976

wreckitlCanada’s folk hero had been recording and touring for more than ten years when he scored his biggest chart success with his ode to the sunken freighter.  It resonated with Americans and Canadians alike, especially those who lived near the Great Lakes and know all about the ferocious storms that have laid claim to dozens of vessels through the years.  It’s a great story artfully told but, frankly, one of Lightfoot’s more boring songs, featuring only three chords stretched out over seven verses.

“American Pie,” Don McLean, 1972

don-mclean-american-pie--albumcoverproject.comNot so much a story as a historical treatise, “American Pie” took listeners on a journey, told in enigmatic language, through the evolution of rock and roll from its birth in 1955 to 1971, when the song was written.  It has earned a place as one of rock’s true anthems, with its veiled references to icons like Buddy Holly, Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Byrds and The Rolling Stones, and events like Woodstock and Altamont, and how they changed both popular music and popular culture.

“Ode to Billie Joe,” Bobbie Gentry, 1967  

Bobbie-gentry-Ode-toThis sleepy, sultry number about a fictional Deep South tragedy would’ve worked perfectly in the soundtrack to “In the Heat of the Night,” the Oscar-winning movie from the same year.  As it is, the song was a big #1 hit on the pop charts for then-newcomer Gentry, who wrote it with sensitive, descriptive lyrics.  It tells the tale of a rural Mississippi family’s reaction to news of the suicide of local boy Billie Jo MacAllister at the Tallahatchie Bridge, the subsequent passing of the family patriarch, and the effects of the two deaths.

“Alice’s Restaurant,” Arlo Guthrie, 1967  

alices-restaurant-1Perhaps the longest story in popular music (and subsequently made into a feature film), “Alice’s Restaurant” is an 18-minute rambling account (apparently true) of what happened to songwriter Guthrie in Stockbridge, Massachusetts, one Thanksgiving Day during the Vietnam War protest years.  It’s mostly comic and whimsical in the telling, although the underlying message is one of sadness and disbelief at the folly and absurdity of war as well as the justice system’s overreach.

“Same Old Lang Syne,” Dan Fogelberg, 1981

dan-fogelberg-same-old-lang-syneThis tale tugs at the heartstrings, as many Fogelberg songs do.  The narrator runs into his old girlfriend in the grocery store on Christmas Eve, and they end up drinking a six-pack in her car while recalling the good old times…but they say their goodbyes and, presumably, never cross paths again.  It struck a chord with many people who recall past flings and relationships, and Fogelberg deftly weaved in a few bars of “Auld Lang Syne” as the song concludes.  It reached #9 on the charts and still gets plenty of airplay during the Yuletide season.

“Take the Money and Run,” Steve Miller Band, 1976

cd-cover“This is the the story ’bout Billy Joe and Bobby Sue…”  For his hugely successful LP “Fly Like an Eagle” in 1976, Steve Miller came up with this tale of two young outlaws on the run from their various crimes, kind of a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.  It reached #11 as the first of three hits from the album that year.  Film director Quentin Tarantino has said he modeled the depraved murderers in his movie “Natural Born Killers” after the felonious couple Miller described in the song.

“Jack and Diane,” John Cougar Mellencamp, 1982

John_cougar-jack_diane_s“Little ditty ’bout Jack and Diane…”  John Mellencamp was still Johnny Cougar when he wrote this commercial story-song about another down-and-out  couple who just didn’t have what it took to succeed in life.  Allegedly based on the Tennessee Williams play “Sweet Bird of Youth,” Mellencamp sexed it up a bit and gave it a more contemporary bent for the ’80s audience.  With a catchy guitar riff and stutter-stop rhythm, it turned out to be one of the biggest hits of 1982, and still gets a ton of exposure today.

“Cortez the Killer,” Neil Young, 1975

ZumaThis 11-minute opus, found on Young’s sprawling “Zuma” album, tells the story of Hernan Cortes, the Spanish warrior who fought the native Aztecs to conquer Mexico for Spain in the 16th Century.  Young had been reading historical biographies during this period of his life and was moved to write about Cortes and his exploits.  The turmoil of the many battles won and lost is symbolically represented in the fiery guitar solo that dominates the track.

“Incident on 57th Street,” Bruce Springsteen, 1973

The-Wild-The-Innocent--th-017Like Dylan, The Boss has written many story-songs over the years, but perhaps none as dramatic as “Incident on 57th Street,” an under-the-radar saga from his “The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle” in late 1973.  It tells the tragic tale of Johnny and Jane, a couple who live in a New Jersey walk-up with a minimalist view of New York City, and how they try to make do in a rough-and-tumble world in which Johnny feels an undeniable need to prove his manhood in the streets.

“Shooting Star,” Bad Company, 1975

Bad Company Straight ShooterWriting a story-song was not the exclusive domain of American composers — witness this minor classic by British rockers Bad Company.  Found on their “Straight Shooter” LP, “Shooting Star” tells the story of Johnny, the kid who is inspired by The Beatles to become a rock star, has a hit single, becomes famous, and then dies as a victim of the excesses of the rock and roll lifestyle.  Singer Paul Rodgers has said this is among his favorites in the Bad Company repertoire.

“Blaze of Glory,” Joe Jackson, 1989

220px-JoeJacksonBlazeOfGloryThis one, from Jackson’s extraordinary but underrated 1989 song-cycle “Blaze of Glory,” tells the story of a young musician named Johnny (so many Johnnys in these songs!) who made it big, but then “the ride started to go too fast and Johnny conveniently died.” Jackson, a New Wave iconoclast who was only briefly a mainstream artist (1982’s “Steppin’ Out” in particular), has produced some incredible work in the ’80s, ’90s and beyond, even though no one has seemed to notice.

“Hurricane,” Bob Dylan, 1976

Bob_Dylan_-_DesireDylan has written so many story-songs through the years that I could do an entire column just on his work.  Perhaps his most notable is the one about real-life boxer Reuben “Hurricane” Carter, who, though far from a saint, got unjustly caught up in a homicide rap, and Dylan was sufficiently outraged to write this lengthy piece that told Carter’s story.  It’s a sordid tale of institutional racism at its worst, and Dylan is almost libelously specific in his accusations about the prosecutor and his questionable testifying witnesses.

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And I’ve been workin’ like a dog

As a child, whenever I played at a friend’s house where there was a dog, I would always spend a lot of time bonding with it.  I guess I knew even then that I was “a dog person” because I was so attracted to their enthusiasm and friendliness.

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Ebony (1982-1994)

When I returned home from these visits, I would invariably plead with my mom:  “Can’t we please get a dog?”  She flatly refused, saying she wasn’t interested in her carpets and furniture getting stained and muddied, nor the prospect of fur shedding everywhere.

She also knew full well that the care of said dog would end up falling squarely on her, once the novelty of pet ownership had worn off on me.  And she was probably right about that.  “Once you grow up and have your own house, you can have all the dogs you want,” she’d say.  And that was that.  I had to resign myself to making friends with all my friends’ dogs instead.

Jump ahead 20 years to when my future wife and I were first dating.  One day, a co-worker in my newspaper office walked in and announced that he and his wife had to give up their puppy because the apartment they were moving into didn’t allow pets.

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Cocoa (1998-2014)

“Anyone want a dog?” he asked.  I looked up from my work and straight into the eyes of the most adorable black doggy face I’d ever seen.  Love at first sight.

“Judy,” I gushed over the phone, “oh my God, you have to come see this puppy, he’s so cute, we have to get him!”  Once she’d met the dog and agreed how irresistible she was, we took her home that night, and named her Ebony.  To this day, we give that dog credit for bringing us closer together as a couple, and we were married shortly thereafter.

Following Ebony’s passing at age 12, we eventually took the plunge a second time, getting a Shih-Tzu named Cocoa as a playmate for our two young daughters.  Sure enough, just as my mother warned me, I found that the girls soon lost interest in the daily walks, the feeding, the cleaning up, not to mention the vet visits and other responsibilities, and guess who did the lion’s share?

IMG_0688But it’s the snuggling on the couch, the fetching and horsing around, the unconditional love that makes having a dog so rewarding.  And that’s why, last weekend, we bit the bullet and signed up for one more go-round.  Meet Higbee, our nine-week-old Bernedoodle (that’s a mix of Bernese mountain dog and poodle).  Cute as can be — now only seven pounds — but we’re told he could grow to be 80 pounds.  Hoping for maybe 50-60 pounds.  We shall see.

In commemoration of our new acquisition, and for dog lovers everywhere, this week I offer you a playlist of rock songs about dogs.  Woof!

 

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pink-floyd_cu46f“Dogs,” Pink Floyd, 1977

Floyd’s songwriter Roger Waters, a scathing critic of the ethics and greed of the business world, wrote a 17-minute piece about the subject, originally titling it “You’ve Got to Be Crazy,” but then renaming it “Dogs” as part of Floyd’s 1977 LP “Animals.”  He points out how businessmen and dogs both can give the appearance of being friendly and polite but are often hiding a darker agenda:  “You got to be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed, and then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight, you got to strike when the moment is right without thinking…”

Puppy_Love_-_Paul_Anka“Puppy Love,” Paul Anka, 1960

Anka was only 19 when he wrote this heartbreaker about the huge crush he had on teen queen Annette Funnicello at the time.  It followed two other sad tales, “Lonely Boy” and “Put Your Head on My Shoulder,” and reached #2 on the charts.  Anka wrote about how the adults always referred to teen love as inconsequential “puppy love,” but to the teens, it was monumental:  “How can I ever tell them this is not puppy love?…”  A decade later, Donny Osmond, while still singing with The Osmond Brothers, charted four consecutive Top Five solo hits, including a saccharine-sweet remake of “Puppy Love.”

I_Wanna_Be_Your_Dog“I Wanna Be Your Dog,” The Stooges, 1969

Iggy Pop and his raucous Detroit band The Stooges became prototypes for both heavy metal and punk with distortion-heavy tracks like “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” in which the narrator states his masochistic desire to lie down and be the subservient pet:  “Well c’mon now, I’m ready to close my eyes, and now I’m ready to close my mind, and now I’m ready to feel your hand, and lose my heart on the burning sands, and now I wanna be your dog…”

mson“I Love My Dog,” Cat Stevens, 1967

Very early in his career, for his debut LP “Matthew and Son,” Stevens wrote this somewhat simplistic tribute to his dog, which reiterated the belief that human relationships may come and go, but a dog will love you unconditionally ’til the end:  “I love my dog as much as I love you, but you may fade, and my dog will always come through, all he asks from me is the food to give him strength, all he ever needs is love and that he knows he’ll get…”

R-723449-1430644559-2264.jpeg“Atomic Dog,” George Clinton, 1982

Clinton and his Parliament-Funkadelic collective were nearing the end of their late ’70s heyday when they released the funky, psychedelic “Atomic Dog” in 1982.  The song’s lyrics wonder philosophically why some men persist in their unsuccessful sexual pursuits, like dogs running after cats:  “Like the boys when they’re out there walkin’ the streets, may compete, nothin’ but the dog in ya, why must I feel like that, why must I chase the cat, nothin’ but the dog in me, bow-wow-wow-yippie-yo-yippie-yeah…”

220px-Me_and_You_and_a_Dog_Named_Boo_-_Lobo“Me and You and a Dog Named Boo,” Lobo, 1971

Kent LaVoie, who preferred to call himself Lobo (Spanish for wolf), had several Top Ten hits in the early Seventies, beginning with this easy-going, country-flavored hit in 1971.  He actually had a dog named Boo, and wanted to include him as a character in the song:  “Me and you and a dog named Boo, travelin’ and livin’ off the land, me and you and a dog named Boo, how I love being a free man…”

cover_515411732017_r“You Lie Down With Dogs,” Alan Parsons Project, 1979

In this deep track from Parson’s fine 1979 LP “Eve,” the lyrics offer a grim reminder to women to be careful in their selection of lovers by using a time-honored piece of advice:  “Well, you lie down with dogs, you fall in with thieves, you’re gonna catch something, but you do as you please, you’re scratchin’ an itch that nothing can ease, you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas…”

Rufus-Thomas-Walking-The-Dog-Album-Cover-web-optimised-820“Walking the Dog,” Rufus Thomas, 1963

Thomas was a Memphis-based singer, DJ, dancer and comic entertainer whose biggest success was the #10 hit “Walking the Dog” in 1963, later covered by The Rolling Stones on their first album, and by a dozen other artists (Aerosmith, Roger Daltrey, Green Day among them).  Thomas also recorded other novelty dance hits like “Can Your Monkey Do the Dog,” “Somebody Stole My Dog” and “Do the Funky Chicken.”

Unknown-36“I Want a Dog,” Pet Shop Boys, 1988

UK synth-pop act The Pet Shop Boys have been the most successful duo in British music history, and hugely popular throughout Europe, but far less so in the States.  Still, they scored five hit singles here in their first few years, including the #1 “West End Girls.”  On their third LP, they conjured up an engaging synth-groove on “I Want a Dog,” a paean to canine companionship:  “I want a dog to walk in the park when it gets dark, my dog will bark at any passers-by, oh, you can get lonelyI want a dog, when I get back to my small flat, I want to hear somebody bark…”

hqdefault-13“Dog and Butterfly,” Heart, 1978

Ann and Nancy Wilson wrote this pretty acoustic piece for Heart’s album of the same name.  Its lyrics explore the concept of learning one’s own limitations through the example of a dog, who would love to fly like the butterfly but must instead take comfort in “rolling back down on the warm soft ground, laughing up to the sky…”

bowie“Diamond Dogs,” David Bowie, 1974

The striking album cover artwork of Bowie’s eighth album “Diamond Dogs” depicts him as a grotesque half-man/half-dog, and the songs, especially the title track, feature his visions of urban chaos and scary nihilism that presaged the punk rock revolution a few years later:  “In the year of the scavenger, the season of the bitch, sashay on the boardwalk, scurry to the ditch, come out of the garden, baby, you’ll catch your death in the fog, young girl, they call them the diamond dogs…”

603497976058“Gonna Buy Me a Dog,” The Monkees, 1966

Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart wrote many songs in The Monkees’ catalog, including this whimsical throwaway from their first album.  Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones joked their way through the lyrics, which focused on how a dog was a better and more loyal friend than a human:  “You know my girl just called me up and she woke me from my sleep, you should have heard the things she said, you know she hurt my feelings deep…  She used to bring me my newspaper ’cause she knew where it was at, she used to keep me so contented, but I can teach a dog to do that, I’m gonna buy me a dog ’cause I need a friend now, I’m gonna buy me a dog, my girl, my girl, don’t love me no how…”

81nNmHDr4ML._SS500_“Dogs in the Midwinter,” Jethro Tull, 1987

In this deep track from Tull’s Grammy-winning LP “Crest of a Knave,” Ian Anderson equates the greedy, ravenous nature of society’s villains with scavenger dogs who have been outside too long without much to eat:  “The boss man and the tax man and the moneylenders growl like dogs in the midwinter, the weaker of the herd can feel their eyes and hear them howl, like dogs in the midwinter, though the fox and the rabbit are at peace, cold doggies in the manger turn last suppers into feasts…”

the-beatles-all-together-now-apple-3-s“Hey Bulldog,” The Beatles, 1968

Its working title was “Bullfrog,” but when Paul McCartney started barking during the ending of one take, they ended up changing the title to “Hey Bulldog.”  It’s a Lennon song that is only marginally about dogs, but it’s one of The Beatles’ best latter-day rockers, hidden among the retreads and film-score tracks on the “Yellow Submarine” soundtrack LP, so I couldn’t resist including it on this list.

Black_Dog45“Black Dog,” Led Zeppelin, 1971

The lyrics of this sexually charged hard rocker make no mention of a black dog, or any dog, but again, I wanted to include it because I love it so much.  Robert Plant said they named the song after an anonymous black mutt that visited their Headley Grange retreat in the British countryside while they were recording.  It’s the opening track to their most successful LP, known as “Untitled,” “Zoso” or “Runes.”

500x500-1“Hound Dog,” Big Mama Thornton, 1952

Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller, wrote the 12-bar blues classic “Hound Dog” in 1952 specifically for the great Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton.  Said Leiber, “It’s basically a Southern blues lament about a black woman throwing a gigolo out of her house and her life.”  Thornton’s rendition was influential and authentic, and although Elvis Presley’s version with altered lyrics became a far bigger chart success four years later, it is Thornton’s original that is far superior:  “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, been snoopin’ ’round my door, you ain’t nothing but a hound dog, been snoopin’ ’round my door, you can wag your tail but I ain’t gonna feed you no more…

A few more I should comment on:

The incessantly annoying “Who Let the Dogs Out” by Baha Men (2000) compares men to dogs and their inherent need to hump something.

Carrie Underwood’s “The More Boys I Meet” (2007) objects to men’s behavior toward women and concludes she’d rather have a dog’s companionship any day.

“Bitch” by The Rolling Stones (1971) is not about a dog, nor a woman, just a resigned complaint about how tough life can be:  “It’s a bitch.”

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Honorable mention:

The Puppy Song,” Harry Nilsson, 1969;  “The Dogs of War,” Pink Floyd, 1987;  “Bird Dog,” Everly Brothers, 1970;  “Do the Dog,” The Specials, 2002;  “Dog Eat Dog,” Walter Becker & Donald Fagen, 1971;  “Black-Eyed Dog,” Nick Drake, 1974; “My Dog and Me,” John Hiatt, 2003;  “Sleeping With the Dog,” Jethro Tull, 1991;  “Dog Days are Over,” Florence + The Machine, 2008;  “Rain Dogs,” Tom Waits, 1985;  “Walking the Dog,” fun., 2009;  “Dog Eat Dog,” Adam and The Ants, 1980;  “(How Much Is) That Doggie in the Window,” Pattie Page, 1953.