I am music, and I write the songs

Before the arrival of Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys and The Beatles, singing and songwriting were considered two distinctly separate talents.  Up until about 1960, you were pretty much one or the other, but not both.

Songwriters, by and large, accepted their place in the scheme of things, churning out catchy melodies and lyrics that someone else turned into hit singles.  In some cases, however, the songwriter nursed a dream of becoming a recording artist in his/her own right, even if that didn’t happen until years later.

Carole King is perhaps the best example of this.  Throughout the ’60s, she and husband Gerry Goffin wrote dozens of hits made famous by others — “Up on the Roof” by the Drifters, “I’m Into Something Good” by Herman’s Hermits, “The Locomotion” by Little Eva, “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” and “One Fine Day” by the Shirelles, “Pleasant Valley Sunday” by The Monkees, “(You Make Me Feel Like a) Natural Woman” by Aretha Franklin, “Hi-De-Ho” by Blood Sweat and Tears, to name just a few.

Then in 1970, King took a stab at singing, and although her debut album went unnoticed, her second was “Tapestry,” one of the biggest-selling albums of all time, and the beginning of an accomplished career as a singer.

There are some intriguing examples of hit songs from that era that were written by songwriters who hadn’t yet made their name on the charts as singers.  In the process of creating the song, the composers often recorded their own versions, either as demos or as official recordings that received little attention.  Hearing these “rough drafts” of tunes that became huge hits by others makes for fascinating listening, as the Spotify song list at the end of this blog will demonstrate.

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“I’m a Believer,” written by Neil Diamond.  Made famous by The Monkees (#1 in 1967)

Diamond, who went on to write 37 Top 40 hits, developed a passion for songwriting at age 15 growing up in Brooklyn.  He had his eye on a recording career, but meanwhile, he was happy to have his songs picked up by others.  In 1966, TV producer Don Kirshner, in charge of finding material for the new created-for-TV pop rock band The Monkees, came to Diamond and selected one of his recent compositions called “I’m a Believer,” which ended up at #1 on US pop charts for seven weeks.  Diamond recorded his own version later the same year on his “Just for You” LP, which also included his first hits “Cherry, Cherry” and “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon.” 

“Red Rubber Ball,” written by Paul Simon.  Made famous by The Cyrkle (#6 in 1966)

Simon had been writing his irresistible melodies and introspective lyrics since 1963, and had recorded one album with Art Garfunkel that went nowhere.  But when a producer added drums, bass and electric guitar to their acoustic recording of “The Sound of Silence,” it became a #1 hit in early 1966, and Simon and Garfunkel were off and running.  Meanwhile, he had written “Red Rubber Ball” with Bruce Woodley of The Seekers, and the short-lived band called The Cyrkle made it into a big hit.  S&G played it in concert occasionally, and their live recording of it appears on the 1997 collection “Old Friends.”

“One,” written by Harry Nilsson.  Made famous by Three Dog Night (#5 in 1969)

In 1968, at a time when bands wanted to (or were expected to) write their own songs, Three Dog Night went the other way, covering songs written by others, mostly struggling young songwriters who had great material.  Singer Chuck Negron heard the unknown album “Aerial Ballet” by Nilsson, which included a track called “One,” a simple, mellow song about the loneliness felt following a romantic breakup.  The band recorded a more exuberant arrangement for their debut album, and “One” became a #5 hit in 1969, the first of 15 Top 20 singles for the trio.

“Wedding Bell Blues,” written by Laura Nyro.  Made famous by The 5th Dimension (#1 in 1969)

Nyro’s original vision for “Wedding Bell Blues” was as part of a mini-suite with dramatic rhythm changes to reflect the dual themes of adoring love and frustrated lament felt by the woman who “wonders if she’ll ever see her wedding day.”  That version was turned down by her producer, but instead she recorded a more soulful arrangement and released it in 1967 on her “More Than a New Discovery” debut album.  Two years later, The 5th Dimension enjoyed a pair of hits with Nyro’s songs “Stoned Soul Picnic” and “Sweet Blindness,” so they tried a third time with their rendition of “Wedding Bell Blues” (which was very similar to Nyro’s), and it went to #1.

“Mr. Tambourine Man,” written by Bob Dylan.  Made famous by The Byrds (#1 in 1965)

By 1965, Dylan was already regarded as a songwriting genius/prophet in some circles, but he hadn’t yet made a dent on the charts as a recording artist.  That began to change when the Southern California band The Byrds used their jangly electric 12-string guitar sound and lush harmonies on a folk-rock arrangement of Dylan’s acoustic “Mr. Tambourine Man,” and The Byrds’ cover rocketed to #1.  Dylan’s version, found on his “Bringing It All Back Home” LP, has a running time of 5:34 and includes four verses; The Byrds’ version is severely truncated to 2:29, using only the second of the four verses.

“Both Sides Now,” written by Joni Mitchell.  Made famous by Judy Collins (#8 in 1968).

Judy Collins gives credit to her friend and musician Al Kooper for introducing her to the genius of Joni Mitchell, still a relative unknown at the time.  “He knew I was in the midst of recording my ‘Wildflowers’ album, and he wanted me to hear Joni’s songs, particularly ‘Both Sides Now,'” Collins wrote in her autobiography.  “Joni’s writing was magnificent.  ‘Both Sides Now’ has everything — sweep and tenderness, specificity and breadth.  It’s a perfect jewel of a song, perhaps one of the greatest songs ever written.”  Mitchell’s own version appeared on her second album, “Clouds,” in 1969.

“Wichita Lineman,” written by Jimmy Webb.  Made famous by Glen Campbell (#3 in 1968)

Webb remembers driving toward the late afternoon sun one day in Oklahoma, passing endless miles of telephone poles, until he saw the silhouette of a solitary lineman atop a pole.  “He looked like the absolute picture of loneliness,” said Webb, who put himself in the lineman’s place and wrote what has been described as “the first existential country song” and “the greatest pop song ever composed.”  Glen Campbell was the first of many artists to record “Wichita Lineman,” which charted at #3, and Webb himself finally got around to it on his 1996 album called “Ten Easy Pieces,” which also includes new arrangements of other hits he wrote like “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” “The Worst That Can Happen,” “Galveston” and “MacArthur Park.”

“Mama Told Me Not to Come,” written by Randy Newman.  Made famous by Three Dog Night (#1 in 1970)

After an early attempt as a recording artist flopped, Newman concentrated on songwriting throughout the ’60s, and his 1966 song “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today” was recorded by a dozen different singers.  That same year he wrote “Mama Told Me Not to Come” for Eric Burdon and The Animals, but it ended up an overlooked album track.  Four years later, Newman released his “12 Songs” LP, which included his piano-based rendition of the song.  Almost simultaneously, Three Dog Night’s rock/funk version raced up the charts to become one of the biggest singles of the year.

“Come and Get It,” written by Paul McCartney.  Made famous by Badfinger (#7 in 1970)

McCartney wrote several songs during the Beatles years that he gave away to others, particularly Peter & Gordon (Peter Asher was the brother of his then-girlfriend Jane Asher).  In 1969, McCartney was commissioned to write songs for “The Magic Christian” soundtrack, and in the midst of the “Abbey Road” sessions, he arrived early one day and recorded a polished demo of “Come and Get It” by himself.  Badfinger was a new band signed to the Apple label, and to help jumpstart their career, he gave them “Come and Get It,” also producing it exactly as he had recorded it on the demo.  McCartney’s original was finally released as a Beatles track on the “Anthology 3” CD in 1996.

“Red Red Wine,” written by Neil Diamond.  Made famous by UB40 (#1 in 1988)

This one has this list’s longest gestation period from composing to hit-single status.  Originally written and recorded by Diamond in 1967 on his “Just for You” LP, “Red Red Wine” was resurrected 15 years later by British pop/reggae band UB40, who released an album in 1983 of cover versions of songs by their early rock idols.  Their reggae version went to #1 in the UK but stalled at #34 here, but five years later in 1988, it was re-released in the US and went to #1 here as well.

“Stoney End,” written by Laura Nyro.  Made famous by Barbra Streisand (#6 in 1971)

Another Nyro composition that appeared on her underrated 1967 debut “More Than a New Discovery” was this upbeat number that eventually captured the attention of producer Richard Perry.  He suggested it as a featured song for Barbra Streisand’s first album of pop-rock songs, and although she initially balked at the line “I was raised on the good book Jesus” because of her Jewish faith, it ended up being the title song when released in 1971.  She took Nyro’s song to #6, her first Top Ten hit since “People” in 1964, and the beginning of an impressive run on the charts throughout the ’70s and into the ’80s.

“Me and Bobby McGee,” written by Kris Kristofferson.  Made famous by Janis Joplin (#1 in 1971)

Kris Kristofferson was an Army brat who became an accomplished pilot, an award-winning boxer and rugby player, and a Rhodes scholar at Oxford — and he left all that behind to pursue his dreams of writing music and acting.  He found his niche in Nashville, where his songs were recorded by dozens of country stars from Johnny Cash to Ray Price, but Kristofferson’s own recordings never achieved much commercial success.  He introduced one song from his debut album “Kristofferson” to his friend Janis Joplin, who decided to record a rollicking arrangement for what would become her final album, “Pearl.”  Four months after her death, Janis’s recording of “Me and Bobby McGee” was the #1 song in the country.

“All the Young Dudes,” written by David Bowie.  Made famous by Mott the Hoople (#37 in 1972)

In 1972, Bowie’s career was only just starting to take off in the US when he heard that his friends in Mott the Hoople were about to break up because of a lack of chart success.  He offered them his song “Suffragette City” from the “Ziggy Stardust” LP, but they turned him down, so instead, Bowie sat down in a London flat across from singer Ian Hunter and wrote “All the Young Dudes” specifically for them.  It went to #3 in the UK, saving the band’s career, and it became the unofficial anthem of the glam-rock era.  Bowie recorded it himself during the “Aladdin Sane” sessions but never released it until the mid-’90s on several different compilation CD sets.

“Lotta Love,” written by Neil Young. Made famous by Nicolette Larson (#8 in 1979)

Larson had sung backing vocals on Young’s “American Stars and Bars” album in 1977, and the two had become friends. One day she was driving around Malibu with him when she popped a cassette of his demos in his tape player. She praised his early take of “Lotta Love,” and Young responded, “You want it? It’s yours.” Her shimmering arrangement of it became her successful debut single in early 1979, while Young’s more stripped-down version appeared on his “Comes a Time” LP around the same time.

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I urge you to compare the composers’ and cover versions of these other hits that made my honorable mention list:

Bruce Springsteen wrote “Blinded by the Light,” “Fire,” and “Because the Night” (popularized by Manfred Mann, The Pointer Sisters and Patti Smith, respectively);  Bob Marley wrote “I Shot the Sheriff,” a #1 hit for Eric Clapton; Leon Russell wrote “This Masquerade” (a hit for George Benson) and “A Song for You” (the title song of The Carpenters’ fourth album);  Tom Waits wrote “Ol ’55,” a popular track for The Eagles;  Prince wrote “Nothing Compares 2 U” (Sinead O’Connor’s big debut) and “Manic Monday,” (a #1 smash for The Bangles);  and Bob Dylan wrote “All Along the Watchtower” (wildly reimagined by Jimi Hendrix).

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It’ll be just like starting over

January 1st, I think, is a terrible time to start a New Year.  We’re exhausted from the Christmas season, it’s cold and dark outside, there’s a long stretch of winter months ahead of us.  I always thought April 1, or May 1, with its blooming crocuses and “hope springs eternal” mindset, would be a far better time for this spiritual, physical and mental renewal.  But January 1 it is, so let’s proceed.

The need for rebirth, for turning over a new leaf, is a strong and beneficial thing.  We all benefit from recharging our batteries, refocusing our goals, and starting anew sometimes.  Maybe every day, or every month, but surely at least once a year.

Today, to commemorate the ushering in of 2025 (even though it’s already January 3rd), I am featuring 15 songs that celebrate New Year’s Day and the opportunity for renewal. Most have lyrics designed to give us all a little motivation to hold our heads up and forge ahead as we turn the calendar once again.

I saw this wish the other day and am embracing it: “A new year is like a blank book; it has 12 chapters and 365 pages, and you are the author. My wish is that, this year, we all write the most beautiful stories for ourselves.”

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“Auld Lang Syne,” Jimi Hendrix, 1969

In 1970, Hendrix reached #5 on the US album charts with “Band of Gypsys,” a live album of performances he did at the Fillmore East in New York on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day as 1969 turned to 1970. Nearly thirty years later, a 2-CD package called “Live at the Fillmore East” was released that contained 16 more tracks of performances from that two-night gig, one of which was an instrumental Hendrix adaptation of the traditional New Year’s tune “Auld Lang Syne,” complete with the crowd counting down to midnight and an emcee’s well wishes.

“New Year’s Day,” U2, 1983

“Though I want to be with you, be with you night and day, nothing changes on New Year’s Day…”  Bono is probably right.  Nothing much changes on New Year’s Day.  It’s usually the day AFTER when we start getting serious about exercise programs, diets, job changes, or whatever high-hopes resolutions we’ve made. Bono’s lyrics were inspired by the fact that the Solidarity Movement in Poland was pressuring the government to lift its martial law, and it ended up doing so on New Year’s Day 1983, only days before the song was released as U2’s first single to reach the Top Ten in the UK (only #53 in the US). The words make a general plea for perseverance and commitment to improved lives.

“New Year’s Resolution,” Otis Redding & Carla Thomas, 1967

Since Marvin Gaye had done so well recording duets with Kim Weston and Tammi Terrell, Otis Redding decided to try the concept with R&B songstress Carla Thomas on “King and Queen,” an album of collaborations of Redding’s grittiness and Thomas’s sophistication. With Booker T and the MGs providing razor-sharp accompaniment, the twosome charted two Top 30 singles, and the album includes “New Year’s Resolution,” a horn-driven, waltz-time tune in which they take turns vowing not to hurt each other in the coming year.

“The New Year,” Death Cab for Cutie,” 2003

In 1998, Death Cab for Cutie was just a struggling US band, working the Seattle area and recording on a small indy label.  Their fourth album, 2003’s “Transatlanticism,” was their first to chart, leading to a new contract with a major label and a Top Five LP, “Plans.” The opening track on “Transatlanticism” was a startling tune called “The New Year,” which offers some universal, sobering lyrics that we can all learn from a quarter-century later:  “So this is the new year, and I don’t feel any different…and I have no resolutions for self-assigned penance for problems with easy solutions…”

“This Will Be Our Year,” The Zombies, 1968

Rod Argent, Chris White and Colin Blunstone founded The Zombies in 1964 and had some good-sized hits (“Tell Her No,” “She’s Not There”) but were ultimately dropped by their label in 1967. On their own, they wrote and recorded the songs for “Odessey and Oracle,” seen decades later as one of the best of the psychedelic rock era. One of the finer tracks is “This Will Be Our Year,” in which a man expresses his gratitude to his woman: “I won’t forget the way you said, ‘Darling, I love you,’ /You gave me faith to go on, now we’re there and we’ve only just begun, /This will be our year, took a long time to come…”

“Celtic New Year,” Van Morrison, 2005

A stunning recorded catalog of nearly 50 albums iover six decades makes Morrison one of the most prolific songwriters of the rock era. He did some particularly fine work in the 2000s, with his 2005 LP “Magic Time” a notable standout with tracks like “Stranded,” “Evening Train” and “Gypsy in My Soul.” Two guitars and a whistle carry the comforting “Celtic New Year,” on which Morrison makes a plea to his Irish lover to return: “I’ve got to see you when it’s raining deep inside the forest, I got to see you at the waning of the moon, /Said ‘Oh, won’t you come on back, want you to be of good cheer, /Come back home on the Celtic New Year…”

“Bringing in a Brand New Year,” B.B. King, 2001

Bluesman Charles Brown is best known for writing the timeless “Driftin’ Blues” and the 1961 Yuletide favorite “Please Come Home for Christmas,” which The Eagles made into a Top 15 hit in 1978. Brown’s own recording of the latter tune in 1964 came with “Bringing in a Brand New Year” as the B-side, and showed up again on his “Cool Christmas Blues” collection in 1994, only a couple years before he died. The great B.B. King recorded a fine cover of it in 2001 for his own holiday package, “A Christmas Celebration of Hope,” and it’s more vibrant than Brown’s understated original.

“This Will Be My Year,” Semisonic, 1998

The Minnesota-based alternative rock band Semisonic had a brief arc of success in the late 1990s, especially the Top 20 single “Closing Time” from their 1998 LP “Feeling Strangely Fine.” I’m partial to a deep track called “This Will Be My Year,” where the narrator bemoans his lady’s penchant for overdoing the partying and crashing her car, and hopes he’ll be better off without her: “One wheel in the ditch,
another spinning in the air, /Put your pedal down to the floorboards, but you’re not getting anywhere, /Then you tell yourself what you want to hear, ’cause you have to believe this will be my year…”

“Funky New Year,” The Eagles, 1978

For the B-side of The Eagles’ 1978 Christmas single “Please Come Home for Christmas,” Don Henley and Glenn Frey channeled Earth Wind and Fire and came up with the aptly titled “Funky New Year,” a song about the consequences of overindulgence and how they offer a sign of a tough road ahead: “Can’t remember when I ever felt worse, nothing matters and everything hurts, /They were passin’ round the bottle, made me feel brand new, trouble with the new man, he wants a hit too, /A party, baby, never again, whose shoes are these?, /What year is this anyway?…”

“Maybe Baby (New Year’s Day),” Sugarland, 2009

The Atlanta-based country music duo of Kristian Bush and Jennifer Nettles debuted in 2002 and have released six successful LPs since then, reaching high on the pop charts as well as the country charts. Their Christmas LP “Gold and Green” in 2009 includes five originals alongside five traditional tunes, and the most touching to me is “Maybe Baby (New Year’s Day),” in which the narrator visits his hometown for the holidays and wonders if he’ll run into his old flame so they could spend New Year’s Day together: “This whole town ringing one more year, I don’t wanna let this feeling disappear, /I pray that you might be here tonight, and there you were standing, shining underneath that light…”

“New Year’s Prayer,” Jeff Buckley, 1998

The premature death of Buckley at age 30 in 1997 brought about a critical reappraisal of his only officially released LP, “Grace,” which had underperformed upon its release in 1994. His cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” is widely praised as one of the best records of the last 30 years. In 1998, his label released “Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk,” a compilation of songs Buckley was working on when he died. From that collection comes the rather obtuse and haunting “New Year’s Prayer,” whose central idea seems to be “Feel no shame for what you are.”

“Nothing New for New Year,” Harry Connick Jr & George Jones, 2003

For his second album of Christmas music, 2003’s “Harry For the Holidays,” Connick wrote four original songs to complement the customary traditional and secular seasonal tunes. The most intriguing of the bunch was “Nothing New for New Year,” in which the narrator bemoans the fact that he has no new romantic prospects on the horizon for the new year. He was thrilled to that country music legend George Jones accepted his invitation to join him for a duet on the record. “George Jones is one of my favorite singers, probably the most soulful country singer of all time,” said Connick. “I was so honored that he said yes.”

“Brand New Year,” Eric Carmen, 2014

I couldn’t find much information about this symphonic track, when it was written or why it was never released as a seasonal single, but I do know it turned up as a bonus track on 2014’s “The Essential Eric Carmen” collection. It has a typically quasi-classical Carmen structure and vocal delivery, with lyrics that offer praise for having made it through the previous 12 months and hope for better things in the year to come: “It’s been a long hard year, sometimes it felt like we might not make it, /But baby, we’re still here, we showed the world that our love could take it…”

“Let’s Start the New Year Right,” Bing Crosby, 1942

For the 1942 movie musical “Holiday Inn,” about the goings-on at a former farm turned into a luxury inn and entertainment venue open only on holidays, the great Irving Berlin was commissioned to come up with a dozen tunes for the soundtrack. The most famous was the war horse “White Christmas,” perhaps the quintessential secular Christmas song, and winner of the Best Song Oscar that year. Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire co-starred and sang most of the songs, one of which is this corny but lyrically appropriate track about kicking off the new year on the right foot.

“Auld Lang Syne Rock,” Freddie Mitchell, 1954

Beginning as a pianist and bandleader in the 1930s, Mitchell made records and toured with several different bands into the mid-’40s before forming the Freddie Mitchell Band, in which he made his mark as a stellar tenor saxophonist. He developed a pioneering sound, a honking sax that dovetailed well with Swing, boogie and the emerging rock and roll. His albums never sold much, and by the late ’50s, he retired from the business, but there’s a great collection of his stuff, “Rockin’ Wailin’ Saxophone,” released in 2010, that shows off his instrumental prowess. On the opening track, I dig the way he invigorates the New Year’s standard as “Auld Lang Syne Rock.”

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