Playlists

Takin’ care of business, and workin’ overtime

Posted on by brucehhackett

A few years ago, Hack’s Back Pages took a look back at some of the jobs various future rock stars held before they hit the big time. I wanted to show how even future musical celebrities did stints at thankless jobs, and that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Whether you earn a living at a high-paying profession in medicine, law or banking, or at a more modest-paying job in service work or manual labor, or somewhere in between, these are all honorable occupations that make up the fabric of our national economy.

It occurred to me that I had never gotten around to compiling a playlist of songs about occupations. I expected my research would turn up several dozen candidates among the classic rock archives, but I was surprised to find pickings were few. Still, I think the 14 songs I’ve chosen here are solid, and the honorable mention list isn’t too bad either. There is, as always, a Spotify playlist at the end for you to listen as you read.

If your profession isn’t represented here, perhaps you can find a song that fits the bill and pass it along to me. Off to work!

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“Please Mister Postman,” The Marvelettes, 1961

Being a mail carrier can be a tough job. You’re threatened by dogs, you have to trudge through snow and rain, and you often are the bearer of bad tidings. But sometimes you get to make someone’s day with a long-awaited letter from a loved one. At least, you did back in the days when people still sent love letters! That’s what this golden oldie by The Marvelettes is all about. “Please, Mister Postman, look and see, /Is there a letter in your bag for me? /’Cause it’s been a mighty long time, since I heard from this boyfriend of mine…” It ended up as Motown Records’ first #1 single in late 1961, and The Marvelettes charted six more Top 20 tunes in their decade-long career (“Beechwood 4-5789,” “Playboy,” “Don’t Mess With Bill”). The Beatles covered “Please Mister Postman” in 1963, and The Carpenters’ rendition in 1975 also reached #1.

“Ice Cream Man,” Tom Waits, 1973

Waits is one of the most eclectic songwriters of the past half-century, with lyrics that swing between tender, morose, vicious and hilarious. On his marvelous 1973 debut LP “Closing Time,” one of the tracks he offered was this tribute to the fellow who sells ice cream from a truck that cruises through neighborhoods. This guy, though, seems to be interested in offering something more salacious than drumsticks and creamsicles: “Baby, missed me in the alley, baby, don’t you fret, /Come back around and don’t forget, /When you’re tired and you’re hungry and you want something cool, /Got something better than a swimming pool, /’Cause I’m the ice cream man, I’m a one-man band, /I’m the ice cream man, honey, I’ll be good to you…”

“Don’t Pay the Ferryman,” Chris de Burgh, 1982

This eerily dramatic tune, written and recorded by British rocker Chris de Burgh, seems to disparage the honesty of the man who skippers the ferry boat: “In the rolling mist, then he gets on board, now there’ll be no turning back, /Beware that hooded old man at the rudder, and then the lightning flashed and the thunder roared, /Don’t pay the ferryman, don’t even fix a price, /Don’t pay the ferryman until he gets you to the other side…” I’m sure most ferry boat captains are honorable, but not in this song. In the UK, de Burgh has had a long and mostly successful run, from 1974 to the present day, with nearly two dozen albums in the Top 40. “Ferryman” cracked the Top 40 in the US, the first of only two to make the charts here (1986’s “Lady in Red” was a huge #1 hit).

“Paperback Writer,” The Beatles, 1966

In their early years, Lennon and McCartney wrote relatively simple songs about love and boy-girl relationships, but soon enough, McCartney found he enjoyed writing lyrics about other subjects, and fictional characters. As The Beatles were working on their magnificent “Revolver” album, Paul came up with this catchy tune about a struggling writer who wanted more than anything to be a published author. He wrote it in such a way that listeners couldn’t help rooting for the guy to succeed: “If you really like it, you can have the rights, it could make a million for you overnight, /If you must return it, you can send it here, but I need a break, and I want to be a paperback writer…” It became yet another #1 hit single for The Beatles in the summer of 1966.

“Lawyers, Guns and Money,” Warren Zevon, 1978

The late great Zevon loved to write about sketchy characters — outliers, criminals, people living on the fringes. On his “Excitable Boy” LP, his commercial peak, he finished the album with a track he said was based on a true story. “My manager and I were partying in Mexico, and we took the party on the road into a creepy area of town,” he recalled. “My manager held an imaginary phone to his mouth and said, ‘Send lawyers.’ I immediately added, ‘And guns. And money!'” The song reinforces the importance of having a good lawyer when you run into trouble: “I was gambling in Havana, I took a little risk, /Send lawyers, guns and money, Dad, get me out of this… Now I’m hiding in Honduras, I’m a desperate man, /Send lawyers, guns and money, the shit has hit the fan…”

“Salesman,” The Monkees, 1967

Craig Smith was an L.A.-based singer/songwriter in the mid-’60s who recorded with Chris Ducey as Chris & Craig and later as Penny Arkade. He wrote songs that were recorded by Andy Williams, Glen Campbell and others. He befriended Michael Nesmith of The Monkees, who selected one of Smith’s songs for inclusion on the group’s 1967 LP, “Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd.” Nesmith sang lead vocals on “Salesman,” Smith’s catchy tune that explored the world of the hard-working traveler peddling his wares: “Salesman, with your wooden cart that you push along while you walk, /Hey, salesman, got a little dog whose tail wags when you talk, /You always wear a smile, even though you’ve gotta walk ten miles, short lifespan, good-time salesman…”

“The Doctor,” The Doobie Brothers, 1989

Tom Johnston was founder, guitarist, singer and songwriter of The Doobies for the venerable band’s first five albums, but ulcers and exhaustion forced him to the sidelines in the late ’70s while singer/songwriter Michael McDonald took over for a while. When the band returned in 1989 with the LP “Cycles” after a decade-long hiatus, Johnston was back in charge, and the hit single was a song Johnston co-wrote called, appropriately enough, “The Doctor.” In this case, he was singing not about his previous medical woes but the metaphor that “music is the doctor” that heals us: “If you ever wonder how to shake your blues, /Just follow this prescription and get the cure for what’s ailin’ you, /Music is the doctor, makes you feel like you want to, /Listen to the doctor just like you ought to, /Music is the doctor of my soul…”

“If I Were a Carpenter,” Tim Hardin, 1967

Hardin was an acclaimed folk musician/composer who came up through the Greenwich Village scene in the early ’60s, and while his own recordings weren’t particularly successful, several of his songs did well in versions recorded by others. Bobby Darin reached #8 with a cover of Hardin’s “If I Were a Carpenter,” and Johnny Cash, The Four Tops and Robert Plant also did their own renditions. On Hardin’s “Tim Hardin 2” LP, his original take on the song considers carpentry (and other similar trades) to be humble, honest work: “If I were a carpenter, and you were a lady, would you marry me anyway? Would you have my baby? /If a tinker were my trade, would you still find me? Carrying the pots I made, following behind me? /Save my love through loneliness, save my love through sorrow, /I give you my ‘only-ness,’ give me your tomorrow…”

“Millworker,” James Taylor, 1979

Taylor wrote this fine tune for the Broadway musical “Working,” which was based on the Studs Terkel book “Working: People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do.” The track appears on Taylor’s enigmatic 1979 LP “Flag.” Biographer Mark Robowsky describes this powerful song as “a transfixing self-portrait through the tired eyes of a female laborer chained by life to her machine”: “Yes, but it’s my life that has been wasted, and I have been the fool to let this manufacturer use my body for a tool… /So may I work the mills just as long as I am able, and never meet the man whose name is on the label, /It be me and my machine for the rest of the morning, and the rest of the afternoon, and for the rest of my life…”

“Politician,” Cream, 1968

There are few professions that have worse reputations than those who pursue careers in politics. Indeed, originally, it was supposed to be a noble calling for a few years, not a lifelong career. These days, the graft and corruption seem so widespread, and people are hard-pressed to find any office holder worthy of their trust. In 1968, bassist/vocalist Jack Bruce and lyricist Pete Brown collaborated on the biting “Politician,” which appeared on Cream’s #1 album “Wheels of Fire” that year. The title character is not only untrustworthy but unsavory as well: “Hey now, baby, get into my big black car, /I wanna just show you what my politics are, /I’m a political man and I practice what I preach, /So don’t deny me, baby, not while you’re in my reach…”

“Waitress,” Emily Hackett, 2018

In her 20s, my daughter Emily spent time as a restaurant waitress, and after one particularly tough night full of demanding customers and bad tippers, she was moved to write this song about what it’s like to be a waitress. “For me,” she said, “I was not only waiting on people, I was just trying to make ends meet, waiting for my career as a songwriter to take off.” She ended up including the tune on her 2018 EP “By the Sun,” and she makes sure to tell audiences to be kind and generous to those who wait on them. “I’m at your service, I hope you enjoy it, /Come back and see me, you know where I’ll be, /Waitin’ on you, waitin’ on pay, waitin’ on tables, waiting all day, /Waitin’ on a savior to walk in this place and take me away, /Well, I’m just a waitress…”

“Teacher,” Jethro Tull, 1970

Educators are increasingly under attack these days by people who don’t seem to understand how demanding the job of a teacher can be. From kindergarten to college and beyond, teachers provide lessons, literature and learning tools to make us smarter and wiser in the ways of the world. In Jethro Tull’s classic “Teacher” from 1970’s “Benefit” album, songwriter Ian Anderson points out the importance of making time for fun: “Well, the dawn was coming, heard him ringing on my bell, /He said, ‘My name’s the teacher, or that is what I call myself, /And I have a lesson that I must impart to you, /It’s an old expression, but I must insist it’s true, /Jump up, look around, find yourself some fun, no sense in sitting there hating everyone, /No man’s an island and his castle isn’t home, /The nest is full of nothing when the bird has flown…”

“Wichita Lineman,” Glen Campbell, 1968

Songwriter Jimmy Webb recalled driving across Oklahoma one summer afternoon when he noticed a lone telephone line worker high atop a pole and thought, “What a lonely job that must be.” He was moved to write an ode to the dedicated man who does this important work, and the result was the achingly beautiful “Wichita Lineman,” which became a #3 hit in early 1969 for singer/guitarist Glen Campbell. Webb said he’d intended to write another verse “to flesh out the imagery a bit more” but he ran out of time before Campbell’s scheduled recording session: “I am a lineman for the county, and I drive the main road, /Searchin’ in the sun for another overload, /I hear you singin’ in the wire, I can hear you through the whine, /And the Wichita Lineman is still on the line…”

“Sweet Painted Lady,” Elton John, 1973

We mustn’t leave out what has been called “the world’s oldest profession.” Prostitutes, now often known as “sex workers,” have been selling their bodies for thousands of years, and while there will always be moral arguments about whether it’s an honorable occupation, millions worldwide choose this way to earn a living. Elton John did a fine job of describing the life in “Sweet Painted Lady,” which can be found on his excellent “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” LP from 1973: “So she lays down beside me again, my sweet painted lady, the one with no name, /Many have used her and many still do, there’s a place in the world for a woman like you, /Oh, sweet painted lady, seems it’s always been the same, /Getting paid for being laid, guess that’s the name of the game…”

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Honorable mention:

“Blue Collar,” Bachman-Turner Overdrive, 1973; “Cracked Actor,” David Bowie, 1973; “Cook of the House,” Wings, 1976; “Happy Nurse,” The Sugarcubes, 1992; “Someday I’ll Be a Farmer,” Melanie, 1971; “For a Dancer,” Jackson Browne, 1974; “Taxi,” Harry Chapin, 1972; “Sky Pilot,” Eric Burdon, 1968; “Highway Patrolman,” Bruce Springsteen, 1982; “I’m Just a Singer (In a Rock and Roll Band),” The Moody Blues, 1972; “Son of a Preacher Man,” Dusty Springfield, 1968; “Banker Bets, Banker Wins,” Ian Anderson, 2012.

Songs that slipped my mind

Posted on by brucehhackett

The ’60s, ’70s and ’80s offered so much great music that it’s easy to forget — or to have never heard — the hundreds, even thousands of deep tracks and lost classics found on great, average and even crappy albums. I’ve taken it upon myself to search these records so that we might all discover, or re-discover, some of the fine nuggets of great music that’s been tucked away for far too long.

I hope you get a kick out of these selections, and I encouraged you to send more candidates my way as possible candidates for a future set of “lost classics.”

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“Giddy Up a Ding Dong,” The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, 1973

Harvey, from Glasgow, Scotland, was already 37 and a veteran recording and performing artist when he formed this quasi-progressive rock band in 1972. They had almost no following in the US except in Cleveland, where hip DJ Kid Leo from WMMS played them incessantly, which brought them to the famed Agora Ballroom, where they recorded many tracks for a live LP in 1974. Harvey had been a big fan of early rock and roll, including obscure acts like Freddie Bell & The Bellboys. Bell had written a fun dance tune called “Giddy Up a Ding Dong” that Harvey and his band covered in a riotous arrangement that appeared on their 1973 LP, “Next.”

“Hallelujah,” Sweathog, 1972

This is one of those modestly successful tunes from my high school years by an obscure California rock band that qualifies as a “one-hit wonder.” Sweathog was a foursome founded in the San Jose area in 1969 who went on to become popular as a warmup act for more popular rock groups like Black Sabbath, Grand Funk Railroad and Edgar Winter’s White Trash. Although “Hallelujah” managed only #33 on the charts in January 1972, the vocal harmonies and rocking groove that attracted me must’ve clicked with Canadian listeners as well, where the track reached #16.

“Talk to Me,” Bruce Springsteen, 1978

Springsteen has been one of rock music’s most prolific songwriters since he first emerged from the Jersey Shore in the early ’70s. In 1977-78, as he was working on recording his “Darkness on the Edge of Town” LP, he recorded more than three dozen songs, selecting ten of them to put on the album that year and giving several others to other artists to cover (“Because the Night” to Patti Smith, “Fire” to The Pointer Sisters). His pal Southside Johnny Lyon and his band, The Asbury Jukes, recorded a few Springsteen originals, one of which was the exuberant “Talk to Me.” In 2010, The Boss released “The Promise,” which compiled the best of the tracks he recorded and shelved in 1978, including “Talk to Me.”

“Oh Atlanta,” Little Feat, 1974

With the addition of bassist Kenny Gradney, percussionist Sam Clayton and, especially, versatile guitarist Paul Barrère in 1972, Little Feat adopted a rhythm-oriented, funky sound that recalled the New Orleans feel of The Meters. The band really hit their stride with a six-album run — “Dixie Chicken” (1973), “Feats Don’t Fail Me Now” (1974), “The Last Record Album” (1975), Time Loves a Hero” (1977), the double live album “Waiting for Columbus” (1978) and “Down on the Farm” (1979). From the “Feats” album you’ll find the barrelhouse stomp of “Oh, Atlanta,” with leader Lowell George leading his troops through a tribute to the Southern city and the woman he left behind there.

“Pardon Me Sir,” Joe Cocker, 1972

Beginning with his first LP in 1969, Cocker developed a solid reputation reinterpreting songs already recorded by others, from The Beatles’ “With a Little Help From My Friends” and Dave Mason’s “Feelin’ Alright” to Leon Russell’s “Delta Lady” and the old Box Tops classic, “The Letter.” Although Cocker struggled with depression and alcoholism, he and keyboardist Chris Stainton somehow found the strength to collaborate on five original songs for his 1972 “Joe Cocker” LP, including the minor hits “High Time We Went” and “Woman to Woman.” I recently rediscovered the lively opening track, “Pardon Me Sir,” carried by Stainton’s fine piano work, Cocker’s gruff growl and the Sanctified Sisters on backing vocals.

“Highway 61 Revisited,” Bob Dylan, 1965

When Dylan made the switch from acoustic to electric guitar arrangements for his songs, he was driven by rock and roll and the blues, leaving folk music in the dust, at least for the time being. The title song of his landmark “Highway 61 Revisited” LP references the main route that follows the Mississippi River from New Orleans north through Tennessee and Missouri to Dylan’s home state of Minnesota. Dylan metaphorically traveled that road from north to south, leaving the backwoods for the urban scenes, picking up the blues influences along the way. “Highway 61 Revisited,” a rollicking blues boogie, is one of Dylan’s most spirited tracks, with notables like Mike Bloomfield, Al Kooper and Harvey Brooks in the mix.

“8th Avenue Shuffle,” The Doobie Brothers, 1976

When Doobies co-founder Tom Johnston was sidelined in 1975 with bleeding ulcers and exhaustion, the band hired singer Michael McDonald temporarily to fill in on tour, then decided to bring him in the studio and use four of his songs on their next LP, “Takin’ It to the Streets.” McDonald’s presence injected new life and a different style to the group’s palette, but it wasn’t a complete departure, thanks to the singing and songwriting of co-founder Patrick Simmons, which remained as strong as ever. His hard-to-pinpoint tune “8th Avenue Shuffle” goes through R&B, jazz and hard rock changes in less than five minutes, making old and new Doobies fans sit up and take notice.

“Trip Through Your Wire,” U2, 1987

The incredible songs that make up U2’s multiplatinum album “The Joshua Tree” set such a high bar that it’s kind of surprising to hear there was another entire album’s worth of material being worked up at the same time that didn’t make the cut. Indeed, Bono even pushed for “The Joshua Tree” to be a double album but he was overruled. The R&B-flavored “Sweetest Thing,” which wasn’t released until a “Best Of” package 12 years later, was intended to be a companion piece to one of my favorite album tracks, the bluesy romp “Trip Through Your Wires.” Bono’s harmonica workout was the unusual element this time, complementing The Edge’s rustic, jangly guitar stylings.

“Good Shepherd,” Jefferson Airplane, 1969

This 19th Century African-American hymn went through many changes in tempo, title, lyrics and instrumentations as a lasting spiritual that used elements of folk, gospel and blues. Jorma Kaukonen, the Airplane’s guitarist, sang “Good Shepherd” (originally titled “Blood-Stained Bandit”) as a folk-based song in small Bay Area clubs in the early ’60s. By the time the band was recording “Volunteers” in 1969, Kaukonen offered this “psychedelic folk-rock” arrangement of “Good Shepherd,” adding biting electric guitar lines and a rare lead vocal. The track stood out as a peaceful moment amidst a batch of songs that focused on protest, revolution and anarchy.

“Cold Cold World,” Stephen Stills, 1975

Once Stills’s inventive musical assembly called Manassas completed a two-year run in 1973, he started work on a solo LP that was put on hold as Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young reunited in 1974 for a lucrative US tour. He resumed production with the help of numerous musicians, especially guitarist/singer Donnie Dacus, drummer Russ Kunkel and bassist Lee Sklar. The resulting LP, titled simply “Stills,” reached a respectable #19 on US album charts. Stills and Dacus co-wrote two tracks: “Turn Back the Pages,” a great song which disappointed as a single, and “Cold, Cold World,” a slow-tempo creeper highlighted by Stills’ delicious guitar playing and singing. 

“Don’t Talk,” 10,000 Maniacs, 1987

Hailing originally from Jamestown in western New York, 10,000 Maniacs featured the songs and captivating voice of Natalie Merchant, who led the band through three successful LPs in the 1987-1993 period. On 1987’s “In My Tribe,” Merchant co-wrote a few tracks with guitarist Robert Buck (“What’s the Matter Here?” and “Hey Jack Kerouac”) and the shimmering “Don’t Talk” with keyboard player Dennis Drew, featuring dynamic drumming by Jerome Augustnyiak. The lyrics describe the frustration of trying to communicate with an alcoholic when he’s in his addiction, being dishonest and hurtful:  “The drink you drown your troubles in is the trouble you’re in now…”

“Love of the Common Man,” Todd Rundgren, 1976

Between 1966 and 1976, the ambitious, unpredictable Rundgren fronted two nascent bands (The Nazz and Runt), released seven wildly different solo albums and one by his side project Utopia, and also produced albums by Grand Funk, the New York Dolls, Hall and Oates and Meat Loaf. In 1976 he chose to mark his first decade in the business by recording exact covers of six songs from 1966 by The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Yardbirds, Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix. On Side B of “Faithful,” he wrote original songs that touched on the genres he’d been dabbling in — commercial pop, progressive rock and experimental jazz. I’ve always thought “Love of the Common Man” is one of Todd’s finest tunes.

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