And our mamas smiled and rolled their eyes

It was more than a century ago when President Woodrow Wilson declared the second Sunday of May to be Mother’s Day, a national holiday set aside to honor mothers, motherhood, maternal bonds and the influence of mothers in society. Mom, after all, is “the person who has done more for you than anyone in the world,” said Anna Jarvis, the Suffragette-era activist who spearheaded the move for an official Mother’s Day.

This weekend, my mother-in-law, my wife and my two daughters — a quartet of exemplary mothers — have convened in their home town of Cleveland to celebrate the holiday together. Between them, they represent 107 years of motherhood — the fierce devotion, selfless sacrifice, kind patience and unconditional love that we look for and come to expect from mothers everywhere. In recognition of their reunion, I have chosen to resurrect a favorite post (with a new wrinkle or two) that features a mixed bag of 16 songs about mothers. In genres from hard rock to country, from Top 40 pop to soul, mothers have served as a fairly frequent topic for songwriters of all kinds.

There are a few tunes about mothers that are not what you’d call heartwarming. John Lennon’s harrowing 1970 track titled simply “Mother” bemoans their distant relationship during his childhood and grieves her death when he was just a teen. On their “Synchronicity” LP, The Police also released a song called “Mother” that painted her as an inconvenience: “The telephone is ringing, /Is that my mother on the phone? /The telephone is screaming, /Won’t she leave me alone?…” Queen has a song entitled “Tie Your Mother Down” that, while thankfully not espousing bondage, is about a teen couple callously wanting to keep Mom constrained long enough for them to fool around uninterrupted.

There’s a place for such songs, I suppose, but not here, not now.

No, we’re going to turn our attention to more positive stuff, songs that generally celebrate a mother’s benign influence and knack for practical advice. My selections adopt a generally appreciative attitude toward her, some with humor, some with honor and love, and maybe with a touch of constructive criticism. I think the Spotify playlist found at the end will be well received by those who choose to play it as a soundtrack for your weekend celebration. For completists, there’s a second playlist with “honorable mention” selections.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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“Your Mother Should Know,” The Beatles, 1967

This track was one of the half-dozen Paul McCartney sing-song numbers recorded by The Beatles in their final three years that John Lennon derisively referred to as “Granny music” (songs that your grandparents would like).  Paul said he wrote it on a harmonium in his London home when Liverpool relatives were visiting, inspired by the kinds of songs they used to sing in the parlor at Christmastime. It looked good in a scene in the band’s experimental film “Magical Mystery Tour” with the foursome descending a grand staircase in white tuxedos.  Musically, it’s rather slight, but it has a nice sentiment that Dear Old Mom should love: “Let’s all get up and dance to a song that was hit before your mother was born, /Though she was born a long long time ago, Your mother should know…”

“That’s All Right Mama,” Elvis Presley, 1954

In one of his earliest recording sessions, Elvis and his combo were messing around with a speeded-up version of this old Arthur Crudup blues tune.  Producer Sam Phillips was immediately struck by it and concluded it was the “blues meets country” sound he’d been looking for, and it ended up as Presley’s first single and, many claim, one of the first rock and roll songs ever. With only minimal distribution or promotion, it didn’t chart nationally but reached #4 on local Memphis charts. Fifty years later in 2004, its re-release reached #4 in the UK. In Crudup’s lyrics, the narrator sings: “Mama she done told me, /Papa done told me too, /’Son, that gal you’re foolin’ with, /She ain’t no good for you,’ /But that’s all right, that’s all right, /That’s all right now, mama, anyway you do…”

“Mother,” Kacey Musgraves, 2018

Of the half-dozen songs I found entitled “Mother,” this recent bauble by Kacey Musgraves stands out. Less than 90 seconds long, it nevertheless packs a punch about how much we can miss our moms when we’re not with them often enough. “I was missing my mom,” Musgraves explained, “and I started thinking about the cycle of mothers and the fact that I was sitting there in Tennessee missing my mom who was sitting there in Texas missing her mom. It just goes on and on.” It’s a tender piano-based ballad, a vulnerable moment tucked into the bounty of great songs that make up “Golden Hour,” Musgrave’s triumphant 2018 Album of the Year Grammy winner.

“Mama Told Me Not to Come,” Three Dog Night, 1970

Randy Newman, one of the more celebrated songwriters and film composers of his generation, came up with this tune as part of his 1970 debut release, “12 Songs.”  He didn’t achieve much commercial success as a recording artist, but his songs often did well in the hands of others.  Three Dog Night had one of the biggest radio hits of 1970 with their version of Newman’s “Mama Told Me (Not to Come),” which features one of his typically sardonic lyrics about a guy who is uncomfortable attending drug parties and realizes he should’ve listened to his mother’s advice:  “I seen so many things I ain’t never seen before, /Don’t know what it is, I don’t wanna see no more, /Mama told me not to come, /Mama told me not to come, /She said, ‘That ain’t the way to have fun, son’…”

“Your Mama Don’t Dance,” Loggins and Messina, 1972

Jim Messina recalled his home environment this way: “My stepfather was into country. He was an Ernest Tubbs/Hank Snow kind of guy. But my mom loved Elvis, and Ricky Nelson, and R&B stuff. She was shy, though, and didn’t really dance much. So the song’s title, first line and chorus were based on that experience I had growing up in that household.” He fleshed it out with references to curfews and drive-in movies, and “Your Mama Don’t Dance” ended up reaching #4 on US pop charts in late 1972 as Loggins and Messina’s biggest chart hit: “The old folks say that you gotta end your date by ten, If you’re out on a date and you bring it home late, it’s a sin, /There just ain’t no excuse and you know you’re gonna lose, /You never win, I’ll say it again, /And it’s all because your mama don’t dance and your daddy don’t rock and roll…”

“Mama Said,” The Shirelles, 1961

The Shirelles, a New Jersey-based trio who became one of the early “girl group” successes, had several classic singles during the 1960-1963 period: “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow,” “Dedicated to the One I Love,” “Soldier Boy,” “Baby It’s You,” “Foolish Little Girl.” One of their best was “Mama Said,” written by Willie Denson and Luther Dixon, which peaked at #4 as their third consecutive Top Five hit. Its lyrics reinforced the wisdom of a mother’s warning about how young love can knock you off your feet: “I went walking the other day, /Everything was going fine, /I met a little boy named Billy Joe, /And then I almost lost my mind, /Mama said there’ll be days like this, there’ll be days like this, my mama said…” The song inspired John Lennon’s “Nobody Told Me” (1980) and Van Morrison’s “Days Like This” (1995).

“New Mama,” Stephen Stills, 1975

The testy but respectful relationship that Stills has had with compadre Neil Young over the years sometimes manifested itself in cover versions. Stills has recorded Young’s “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” and “The Loner,” and in 1975 on the “Stills” LP, he cut a faithful rendition of “New Mama,” a gentle ode to new motherhood which had appeared on Young’s 1973 album “Tonight the Night.” Stills used veterans Russ Kunkel, Lee Sklar and Joe Lala on drums, bass and percussion, respectively, with newcomer Donnie Dacus on guitar and Firefall’s Rick Roberts on vocal harmonies, ultimately beefing up the arrangement compared to Young’s stripped down original. It’s an overlooked track on an underrated album.

“Mother and Child Reunion,” Paul Simon, 1972

In 1971, eager to begin his solo career, Simon was in a Chinese restaurant in New York City one night when he was amused to see a chicken-and-egg dish on the menu creatively called Mother and Child Reunion.  “What a great song title,” he thought, and began writing a song that addressed the sometimes fickle nature of the mother-child relationship. Enamored by the strains of Jamaican reggae, he incorporated the intriguing rhythms into the song’s structure, and by early 1972, he had his first solo Top Ten hit. The lyrics describe the “strange and mournful day” when the mother (the chicken) and the child (the egg) are reunited on a dinner plate: “Though it seems strange to say, /I never been laid so low, /In such a mysterious way, /And the course of a lifetime runs over and over again…”

“Mama’s Pearl,” Jackson 5, 1970

The Jackson 5’s fifth single was originally entitled “Guess Who’s Makin’ Whoopee (With Your Girlfriend),” but the folks at Motown intervened, thinking it would be inappropriate for such overt thoughts to be coming out of 12-year-old Michael’s mouth. Producer Deke Richards rewrote a few lyrics and changed the title to “Mama’s Pearl,” and it ended up reaching #2 in early 1971. The track still retaining the lyrical idea that the boy wished his sheltered girlfriend would loosen up and move beyond the making-out stage:  “We kiss for thrills, then you draw the line, /Oh baby, /’Cause your mama told you that love ain’t right, /But don’t you know good loving is the spice of life, /Mama’s pearl, let down those curls, /Won’t you give my love a whirl, /Find what you been missing, ooh ooh now, baby…”

“Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” Willie Nelson & Waylon Jennings, 1978

In 1978, Nelson and Jennings, both seasoned veterans of country music, were each riding high with a string of #1 albums in 1975-1977. They were good friends and had performed together on occasion, so they chose to collaborate on “Waylon & Willie,” which not only sat at #1 on country album charts for three months, it reached #12 on pop charts as well. A big reason for that was the success of the single, “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys,” with lyrics that urged mothers everywhere to raise their children to be “doctors and lawyers and such” instead of cowboys, because “they’ll never stay home and they’re always alone, even with someone they love…”  The track appeared in a scene from the 1979 Jane Fonda-Robert Redford film “The Electric Horseman.”

“Mama Kin,” Aerosmith, 1973

Emerging from the smoky rock clubs of Boston in 1973, Aerosmith launched their career with their self-titled debut album, which flopped, stalling at #166 on US album charts. Some critics dismissed them as “a K Mart version of The Rolling Stones.” By 1976, after the triumph of their next three LPs, the debut album re-entered the charts and peaked at #21, thanks to the tardy success of “Dream On.” The first single, “Mama Kin,” never even charted but became a popular live song at Aerosmith concerts over the years. Its composer, vocalist Steven Tyler, says the lyrics are essentially about “the importance of staying in touch with your family, your roots, your ‘Mama Kin.’ Keeping in touch with mama kin means keeping in touch with the old spirits that got you there in the first place.”

“For a Thousand Mothers,” Jethro Tull, 1969

Tull’s highly praised and popular second album, 1969’s “Stand Up,” offers an eclectic smorgasbord of rock, blues, folk and jazz influences, with Ian Anderson providing the lyrics from fictional scenarios, occasionally mixed with biographical anecdotes or experiences from his personal life. Songs like “Back to the Family” and “For a Thousand Mothers” described Anderson’s relationship with his parents at the time, alternately loving and tempestuous. The latter tune took his mother and father to task for their lack of emotional support of his musical dreams: “Did you hear mother? Saying I’m wrong, but I know I’m right, /Did you hear father? Calling my name into the night, saying I’ll never be what I am now, /Telling me I’ll never find what I’ve already found, /It was they who were wrong, and for them here’s a song…”

“Mama Lion,” Crosby and Nash, 1975

In 1969-70, Graham Nash had had an intense relationship with Joni Mitchell, and they both later wrote songs about it (Joni’s “Willy” and “My Old Man,” Graham’s “Our House” and “Simple Man”). In 1972, Joni wrote “See You Sometime,” which includes the line, “I run in the woods, /I spring from the boulders like a mama lion.” As he was writing songs for “Wind on the Water,” Nash’s 1975 LP with periodic collaborator David Crosby, he came up with “Mama Lion,” which takes a sobering look at the romantic relationship’s aftermath, based on Mitchell’s earlier tune: “Mama lion, mama lion, I’m starting to sink, /Beneath the sunshine and the icicles, and the things that you think, /There’s a hole in my destiny, and I’m out on the brink, /Mama lion, mama lion…”

“Mother’s Little Helper,” The Rolling Stones, 1966

As the recreational use of mind-altering drugs like marijuana and LSD began increasing in the mid-’60s, Mick Jagger and Keith Richards couldn’t help but notice the hypocrisy of parents who criticized the practice while secretly taking amphetamines and tranquilizers to boost their energy or calm them down. They co-wrote “Mother’s Little Helper,” a phrase some moms used as code to describe their own hushed-up vice: “And though she’s not really ill, there’s a little yellow pill, she goes running for the shelter of a mother’s little helper, and it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day…” The song peaked at #8 in 1966 as The Rolling Stones’ 12th single. Richards and Brian Jones played altered 12-string guitars to mimic the sound of a sitar, one of several Indian instruments then in vogue.

“Stacy’s Mom,” Fountains of Wayne, 2003

This power pop tune from the early 2000s straddles the line between cringey and humorous. Adam Schlesinger, one of Fountain of Wayne’s two songwriters, said the song was inspired by a middle school friend of his who confessed he had a mad crush not on Schlesinger’s mom but on his grandmother! “I told him, ‘Hey, you’re stepping over the line,’ but at that point in life, I wouldn’t put it past anyone. So I tried to strike a balance between humor and personality. I was thinking about the whole Mrs. Robinson thing, and. musically, we were going for a Cars feel.” The song reached #21 on US pop charts and had a very popular music video that used comedic scenes to depict the boy’s attempts to get closer to his girlfriend’s mother.

“Tell Mama,” Etta James, 1968

Written and recorded by Clarence Carter as “Tell Daddy” in 1967, this tune was retitled “Tell Mama” for Etta James to sing when Muscle Shoals Studios producer Rick Hall took charge of the recording session. James objected at first, reluctant to be cast as an Earth Mother, “the gal you come to for comfort,” but it turned out to be her biggest hit on the US pop charts, reaching #23 (and #10 on R&B charts). Over a spirited, horn-driven arrangement, James sings about a young man who’s betrayed by his girl, after which his mother reaches out to give him some TLC: “She would embarrass you anywhere, /She’d let everybody know she didn’t care… /Tell Mama all about it, /Tell Mama what you need, /Tell Mama what you want, /And I’ll make everything all right…”

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Honorable mentions:  

“Mama Gets High,” Blood Sweat & Tears, 1971;  “Mother,” Pink Floyd, 1979;  “Crazy Mama,” J.J. Cale, 1972;  “That Was Your Mother,” Paul Simon, 1986;  “Sweet Mama,” The Allman Brothers, 1975;  “Mother,” Danzig, 1988; “Motorcycle Mama,” Neil Young and Nicolette Larson, 1978;  “Never Tell Your Mother She’s Out of Tune,” Jack Bruce, 1969; “Mother Goose,” Jethro Tull, 1971;  “Momma,” Bob Seger, 1975;  “Mother,” The Police, 1983; “Mother Nature’s Son,” The Beatles, 1968;  “Mama,” Genesis, 1983;  “Look What They’ve Done to My Song, Ma,” The New Seekers, 1970;  “Mother,” Chicago, 1971;  “Mother Freedom,” Bread, 1972; “Good Mother,” Jann Arden, 1994; “Mothers Talk,” Tears For Fears, 1985;  “Mother,” John Lennon, 1970; “Tie Your Mother Down,” Queen, 1976; “Tough Mama,” Bob Dylan, 1974;  “Mamma Mia,” ABBA, 1975.

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I’m not feelin’ too good myself

If the number of times you’ve seen a musical artist in concert is any indication of how much you enjoy their body of work, then Dave Mason must rank among my Top Five. Between 1975 and 2014, I saw the guy perform nine times. Whether it was at an outdoor amphitheater, a grand music hall, a college gymnasium or a small club, Mason never failed me with his choice of material, his alternately warm/gruff voice and his assured command of the guitar, both electric and acoustic. And for a guy who never sought the spotlight and claimed to feel a bit uncomfortable as a front man, he had an affable way about him that always made for a delightful evening.

This week, sadly, I must report that Mason has died at age 79. He had a mighty colorful career, mostly as a solo artist but also as a founding member of the esoteric British band Traffic and as a collaborative side man with a bevy of other artists over the years. While many of his peers in the business focused on volume or virtuosity, Mason seemed more interested in nuance and feel, combining American blues, English folk and melodic pop into something almost fluid and much more personal.

Here’s Dave Mason in a photo I took at a 1977 concert in Cleveland

Born in 1946, Mason was one of those British kids who, in an attempt to find something to relieve the boredom and hardship of post-war life in England, discovered music. Like John Lennon, Keith Richards, Pete Townshend and others in the same time and environment, Mason found Elvis, Buddy Holly and early rock and roll, and the blues, all American-born genres that excited him, energized him.

Mason was only 15 when, after learning to play guitar, he joined his first band The Jaguars, and then The Hellions, playing clubs in his native Worcester as well as Birmingham and eventually the rock club mecca of Hamburg, Germany, just as The Beatles and others had done. Drummer/singer Jim Capaldi was also in The Hellions, and among the bands they performed with was The Spencer Davis Group, which featured the astounding vocals and keyboards of Steve Winwood.

Mason and Winwood in front; Capaldi and Wood in back, 1967

Sometimes Mason and Capaldi would jam with Winwood after shows, bringing in sax and flute player Chris Wood from another band. The foursome found that they enjoyed the music they were making, giving Winwood the reason he needed to leave Spencer Davis, and they formed their own group, which they named Traffic (after waiting to cross a busy street one day, as the story goes).

The music that resulted from the group’s retreat to a quiet cottage in the Berkshires was a fascinating amalgam of folk, jazz, rock and psychedelic pop, using everything from Mellotron and sitar to flute and fuzz guitar. The band’s early work helped redefine what a rock ensemble could be—loose yet precise, pastoral yet experimental. Mason’s simple and straightforward folk-rock songs both contrasted with and complimented the more complex, haunting rock jams the Winwood/Capaldi partnership came up with. Although that diversity was key to the band’s appeal, it also caused an internal tension that was never really resolved.

In 1967, Traffic had back-to-back hits right out of the gate in the UK. The infectious Winwood-Capaldi tune “Paper Sun” was a Top Five hit, and Mason’s quirky “Hole in My Shoe” just missed #1 there. Winwood, who preferred the give and take of jamming to produce a song, made no bones about not liking Mason’s songs much. “‘Hole in My Shoe’ was a trite little song that didn’t mean anything,” said Winwood years later. Mason said he felt like the odd man out, and shortly after the release of Traffic’s debut album “Mr. Fantasy” (a Top Ten success in England), he left the group and headed to London and then Los Angeles to explore musical possibilities there.

“I was young, and the early fame freaked me out a bit,” said Mason. “The other guys had a chemistry and a lifestyle I wasn’t really a part of, so I impulsively decided to try going solo. I hung around London for a while, then moved to the States.”

Hendrix and Mason, 1968

During that period, he befriended Jimi Hendrix and ended up contributing to his “Electric Ladyland” LP, playing acoustic 12-string on “All Along the Watchtower,” a song that he would eventually cover quite convincingly on a solo LP and in concert years later. Mason later described the experience as inspirational, recalling the moment of sitting across from Hendrix and laying down the track as among the most vivid of his career. “Jimi created a space where anything could happen,” Mason said. “You just had to be ready when it did.”

Mason earned a reputation as a sought-after collaborator and sideman, working with all kinds of artists across genres and generations. His adaptability allowed him to move between projects with ease, whether contributing guitar lines, songwriting or production insight. He was invited to add sitar to The Rolling Stones’ “Street Fighting Man” in 1968 and was in on some of the star-studded sessions for George Harrison’s “All Things Must Pass” LP in 1970. Five years later, he guested on guitar for Paul McCartney and Wings’ “Listen What the Man Said.” (In his 2024 memoir, Mason good-naturedly referred to himself as “the Forrest Gump of rock.”)  

“Traffic” album (1968) with Mason pictured upper right

Back in 1968, Traffic was touring the U.S. as a trio, ending up in a New York studio afterwards to work on their follow-up album, entitled simply “Traffic.” The band didn’t have enough material for a whole album, so Winwood reluctantly agreed to ask Mason to return, and Mason came to the conclusion that he may have been rash in leaving. Among the songs he brought to the recording sessions was “Feelin’ Alright?,” which would end up a bonafide rock classic. Some said the song expressed Mason’s ambivalence about his time with Traffic (“Seems I’ve got to have a change in scene…“), but he denied this. “It’s just a song about a girl. It’s just another relationship gone bad.” Traffic’s version is sublime, but it was Joe Cocker’s compelling rendition that got most of the airplay, then and now. Three Dog Night, Grand Funk and Mason himself also recorded it.

Still, the uneasy vibes between Mason and the others remained. Winwood felt Traffic was his band and bristled when Mason’s songs upstaged his. Recalled Mason in his 2024 memoir, “He told me, ‘I don’t like the way you write. I don’t like the way you sing. I don’t like the way you play. And we don’t want you in the band any more.'” He got the message and left again, although it turns out it didn’t much matter, because Winwood put Traffic on hiatus for a spell, choosing to collaborate with Eric Clapton in the short-lived supergroup Blind Faith in 1969.

Mason returned to L.A., where he’d been making friends with many in the red-hot music climate there. He found himself hanging out with the likes of Stephen Stills, Leon Russell, Gram Parsons, Mama Cass Elliot, Delaney and Bonnie and others, and often performed on their albums (credited and uncredited). He and Elliot recorded a fairly decent album together in 1969, with Mason writing the majority of material and Elliot offering up her fine harmonies, but it would be another two years before it was released to a lukewarm reception. (You’d be well advised to listen to “Walk to the Point,” “Too Much Truth, Too Much Love” and “Pleasing You” to hear the best moments.)

Mason and Cass Elliot’s duet LP

By early 1970, Mason had written and recorded demos of a group of eight songs, and pitched them to a few companies. Bob Krasnow and Tommy LiPuma, who would become industry moguls running Warners and Elektra years later, were just starting out their label, Blue Thumb Records, and when they heard the demos, they were eager to sign Mason. “The songs were so strong, you had to be deaf not to hear it,” said LiPuma. “He was such a great player and songwriter.”

They offered the budget to bring in a stellar cast of players for the sessions: Jim Gordon and Carl Radle from Delaney and Bonnie’s band, Leon Russell on keyboards, singers Bonnie Bramlett and Rita Coolidge, and LiPuma himself co-producing with Mason. The result was the aptly titled “Alone Together” (solo but with plenty of help), easily Mason’s best and most consistent LP. Critics loved it and fans flocked to it, and it peaked at an impressive #22 on the US charts.

Mason’s “Alone Together” LP, 1970

The songs were deeply melodic, and Mason’s distinctive 12-string guitar and husky, soulful vocals shone particularly brightly on “World in Changes” and “Sad and Deep as You.” The infectious leadoff track, “Only You and I Know,” had a disappointing showing as the single, stalling at #42 in the US (although Delaney and Bonnie’s cover version the next year reached #22 and turned a lot of heads). Mason was a minstrel at heart, but he also played a mean electric guitar, demonstrated most clearly on “Shouldn’t Have Took More Than You Gave” and especially “Look at You, Look at Me,” where his solo in the final minutes will have you picking your jaw up off the floor.

It was at this point that Mason made a fateful decision to play hardball with his record company. He insisted on making a double album, half studio and half live, and he wanted a better contract too, but the label balked at both demands. He went so far as to abscond with master tapes of the sessions in progress, and that move didn’t work out well. “Mason wanted out because Columbia was offering him a deal,” said LiPuma. “‘Alone Together’ sold well, and he was becoming an arena-rock draw on the road. But instead of negotiating, he took our tapes, which we saw as blackmail.” What Mason didn’t know is LiPuma had a back-up set of masters, and with them, he cobbled together “Headkeeper,” an album made without Mason’s approval that included four new but demo-like studio tracks and five live songs performed at L.A.’s Troubadour in 1972.

Because Mason was unhappy with the unfinished tracks, and he hadn’t approved the album’s song selection, mixing or cover art, he declared it “little more than a bootleg” and urged fans to avoid it. It wasn’t bad, but it could’ve been much better (it could only muster #50 on U.S. charts). It was an ill-advised turn of events that hurt his career momentum.  He couldn’t record elsewhere until the business mess could be resolved, so he went out on the road, touring relentlessly, which made him a lot of money and became a way of life for him.

Columbia ended up signing him a year later and bought out the Blue Thumb contract, and their mostly amicable relationship lasted throughout the 1970s. The Columbia debut, 1973’s “It’s Like You Never Left,” sold reasonably well and was a favorite with Mason fans. Among its high points were a reworked, superior version of “Headkeeper,” a great little instrumental jam called “Sidetracked,” and a lovely ballad, “The Lonely One,” that features Stevie Wonder’s incomparable harmonica.

“It’s Like You Never Left,” 1973

Mason’s solid covers of “Watchtower” and Sam Cooke’s “Bring It On Home to Me” highlight his 1974 album, simply titled “Dave Mason,” which also included excellent originals like “Show Me Some Affection” and “Every Woman.” His 1975 LP “Split Coconut” showed a growing sameness about his songs, but there were still a few tracks that showed he hadn’t lost his touch (“Give Me a Reason Why” and “You Can Lose It”). As Peter Frampton’s juggernaut “Frampton Comes Alive!” soared up the charts in 1976, Columbia rushed out a lookalike package for Mason’s “Certified Live” double album, which was pretty damn good, but sales were flat.

Mason needed the one thing he’d never had yet — a hit single. That came with his guitar compatriot Jim Krueger’s great song “We Just Disagree.” Its lyrics seemed to hit a nerve with the music-listening public; whether you’re married or just dating, when you feel you’re no longer compatible, you throw in the towel, hopefully amicably:  “So let’s leave it alone, ’cause we can’t see eye to eye, /There ain’t no good guy, there ain’t no bad guy, /There’s only you and me, and we just disagree…“. The recording was crisp and polished, as was the excellent “Let It Flow” album it came from. FM radio was good to Mason in 1977, putting “So High,” “Mystic Traveler” and “Let It Go, Let It Flow” in heavy rotation, and “We Just Disagree” reached #12 on the Top 40 charts. One more gold album came in 1978, “Mariposa de Oro,” which sounded like a slightly inferior sequel to “Let It Flow” — gorgeous production but only a few strong songs (“So Good to Be Home,” “Warm Desire” and a cover of “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”).

“Let It Flow,” 1977

The pop music scene changed as the Seventies became the Eighties, and Mason found it no longer suited him. His last LP for Columbia, “Old Crest on a New Wave,” alludes to the invasion of new-wave bands (and pop/dance artists) that would dominate the proceedings for the next decade or so. Said Mason in the ’90s, “The latest flavor was something I didn’t want to be any part of. I didn’t fit into the business at that point.” Embroiled in a contractual dispute with Columbia Records, Mason toured with Krueger as a duet act, then released “Two Hearts” on MCA Records in 1987, which turned out to be his last LP on a major label.  

I almost don’t want to mention his short stint in Fleetwood Mac in 1994-95 for the largely forgettable “Time” album, mentioned on a few “Worst Albums of the 1990s” lists. Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks were gone, and Christine McVie, who had quit touring, was on the sessions only as a favor to the label, so it was a radically different lineup with Mason, rockabilly guitarist Billy Burnette and Southern soul singer Bekka Bramlett, daughter of Delaney and Bonnie. A good time was not had by all.

“26 Letters, 12 Notes,” 2008

It wouldn’t be until 2008 when Mason added to his catalog with “26 Letters, 12 Notes” on a Sony subsidiary label. No one noticed (I admit it went under my radar too), but when I first heard it a few years ago, I was thrilled by the quality of songs and production. The blues groove of “Good 2 U,” the inventive melodic lines of “How Do I Get to Heaven” and “Passing Thru the Flame,” the pretty acoustic/electric instrumental “El Toro” — these rank up there with Mason’s better work, I’m pleased to say. 

Mason was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004 as part of Traffic. Chris Wood had died in 1983, but Mason, Winwood and Capaldi all attended and seemed to get along reasonably well, participating in the end-of-evening jam of “Feelin’ Alright” with Keith Richards, Jackson Browne, Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne, The Temptations and ZZ Top. 

Over the past 15-20 years, Mason had remained active, performing periodically. During the COVID shutdown, just for fun, he convened a virtual band online called Dave Mason and The Quarantines that included Sammy Hagar, Michael McDonald, Mick Fleetwood, and Patrick Simmons, Tom Johnston and John McFee of The Doobie Brothers to cut a new version of “Feelin’ Alright” that’s well worth a viewing on YouTube. A recording is on my Spotify playlist at the end

Mason was significantly active in philanthropies, including Little Kids Rock, a non-profit that promotes music education for disadvantaged children; YogaBlue, which promotes yoga as a therapy for those in substance abuse recovery; and Rock Our Vets, which provides food and clothing and access to computers for homeless veterans.

Mason in 2014

I last saw Mason in 2014 at a members-only private show at the Grammy Museum in L.A., and while he played only 40 minutes, he didn’t disappoint. His voice and guitar skills were still mighty impressive.

Two more Mason LPs came out in recent years that escaped my attention until this week. In 2020, he recorded “Alone Together Again,” on which he revisited the songs from his 1970 LP, most of which were merely serviceable, but his new take on “Look at You, Look at Me” is incredible, so I included it on the playlist below. Then in 2023, he collaborated with guitar wizard Joe Bonamassa and singer Michael McDonald, among others, on a captivating set of songs called “A Shade of Blues” that really impressed me.

In 2024, Mason announced the cancellation of all of his 2025 tour dates due to “ongoing health challenges,” one of which my wife and her friends had been planning to attend. Though he originally planned to reschedule these dates, he ended up retiring from touring while saying he would continue to occasionally release new material.

In light of the public disdain Winwood held toward Mason over the years, it was somewhat surprising (but comforting) that he released a complimentary statement this week in the wake of Mason’s death: “Dave was part of Traffic during its earliest chapter, and played an important role in shaping the band’s sound and identity during that time. Those years remain a special part of the band’s story, and Dave’s contribution to them is not forgotten. His place in that history will always be remembered. His songwriting, musicianship, and distinctive spirit helped create music that has lasted far beyond its era, and continues to mean so much to listeners around the world.”

I like the way a Facebook page called Sunset Blvd. Records summarized Mason: “In songs that explored love, separation and the passage of time, he offered listeners something both intimate and universal. As his voice fades from the stage, it remains preserved in recordings that continue to speak with clarity and grace. His songs never shouted for attention, but they stayed with you, and in the long arc of popular music, that quiet persistence may be the most enduring legacy of all.”

Mason may have put it best himself in a 2020 interview: “I’m not a rock star, let’s put it that way. I never wanted to be. I just wanted to write great music, make some money and have fun.”

Rest in peace, Dave. Your songs, your performances and your inherently good nature will remain a vital part of my musical memories from my formative years and beyond.

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