I’m only waiting ’til the morning comes

Over my five-plus decades of collecting music, I have taken great pleasure in compiling mixed tapes, mixed CDs and Spotify playlists that address different subject matters and moods.

38-morning-has-brokenOne of my favorite themes, first assembled in 1980 or so, was an assortment of songs about morning.  I recently revisited the topic by diving into the archives, and I came up a list of available songs from the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s that focus on morning time.  There are well over 100, and probably many more, from which to choose, and I’ve narrowed that down to 20 I want to share with you here, plus another 25 that earned an “honorable mention.”  The playlist begins with mellow selections (as you’re just waking up) and then adds more vibrant tracks later on (after your second cup of coffee).

Wherever you find yourself in the morning, one or more of these tunes should suit your day.  Enjoy!

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“Morning Morgantown,” Joni Mitchell, 1970

41qOdrVToqLThere are several small cities in the U.S. named Morgantown, most notably in West Viriginia, and I have no idea if Mitchell was referring to any of them in particular or just a town she imagined when she wrote this delightful piece that opens her 1970 LP “Ladies of the Canyon.” The point is, she finds a way to create a warm portrait of a village where everyone greets the day with love and kindness:  “When morning comes to Morgantown, the merchants roll their awnings down, the milk trucks make their morning rounds in Morning Morgantown…”

“To the Morning,” Dan Fogelberg, 1972

dan_fogelberg_1974At the beginning of Fogelberg’s career, he moved from his native Illinois to Nashville to record his first album with producer Norbert Putnam, who added nice touches of cellos and strings to some of the tracks.  Although mostly ignored at first, the “Home Free” album eventually sold a million copies after his career took off in the late ’70s.  This gorgeous song was the album’s memorable opening track:  “Watching the sun, watching it come, watching it come up over the rooftops, cloudy and warm, maybe a storm, you can never quite tell from the morning, and it’s going to be a day, there is really no way to say ‘no’ to the morning…”

“Early Morning Rain,” Peter, Paul & Mary, 1965

220px-Peter_paul_and_mary_publicity_photoCanadian legend Gordon Lightfoot made his mark in the U.S. as a songwriter before emerging later as a successful singer as well.  One of his first songs to make the charts here was “Early Morning Rain,” in a gorgeous rendition by Peter, Paul & Mary.  Lightfoot deftly conveys the loneliness of being broke and homesick:  “In the early morning rain with a dollar in my hand, with an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sand, now I’m a long way from home, and I miss my loved ones so, in the early morning rain with no place to go…”

“Morning Has Broken,” Yusef/Cat Stevens, 1971

220px-Teaser_&_the_firecatIn 1931, English poet Eleanor Farjeon was asked to compose lyrics to the traditional Scottish tune “Bunessan” to create a hymn that gives thanks to the new day.  By 1971, Cat Stevens decided to record the gentle piece as “Morning Has Broken,” with piano accompaniment by Rick Wakeman.  It became a #6 hit in early 1972, and it’s still included in church services worldwide:  “Morning has broken like the first morning, blackbird has spoken like the first bird, praise for the singing, praise for the morning, praise for them springing fresh from the world…”  

“Good Morning, Heartache,” Billie Holiday, 1946

61hhRYGE7sL._SY355_Songwriter Irene Higginbotham and lyricist Ervin Drake teamed up to write this jazz standard in 1946, and the late great Billie Holliday recorded it that same year.  More than 50 other artists have covered the song, from Sam Cooke and Etta James to Natalie Cole and Tony Bennett, and Diana Ross’s version in the 1972 biopic “Lady Sings the Blues” is the best known, but I’ll take Holiday’s original any day.  What a fine lyric about waking up with the blues:  “Good morning, heartache, here we go again, good morning, heartache, you’re the one that knew me when, might as well get used to you hanging around, good morning, heartache, sit down…”

“Til the Morning Comes,” Neil Young, 1970

R-428725-1271190446.jpeg“I’m gonna give you ’til the morning comes, ’til the morning comes, I’m only waiting ’til the morning comes, ’til the morning comes…”  More a tune fragment than a bonafide song, this track lasts only 1:17 and finishes side one of Young’s wonderful 1970 LP “After the Gold Rush.”  The album was recorded in Young’s Topanga Canyon house with help from musicians from his periodic backing band Crazy Horse, plus Stephen Stills on vocals and an 18-year-old Nils Lofgren handling piano duties.

“Sunday Morning Coming Down,” Johnny Cash, 1970

JohnnyCashJCShowIn 1969 Kris Kristofferson wrote this classic hangover song for country artist Ray Stevens, but it’s Johnny Cash who recorded the definitive version in 1970 for his live album from “The Johnny Cash Show.”  It’s a lonely piece that explores how we all search for some sort of self-fulfillment but sometimes end up alone trying to cope with the effects of the night before:  “Well, I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt, and the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one for dessert, then I fumbled in my closet and found my cleanest dirty shirt, and stumbled down the stairs to face the day…”

“Lazy Mornin’,” Gordon Lightfoot, 1972

51y7wAs1SkL._SY355_Lightfoot reigns as perhaps Canada’s best-ever songwriter, with well over 250 songs to his credit.  His lyrics paint vivid pictures of life and love, work and play, tough times and carefree moments.  From his 1972 LP “Old Dan’s Records” is a favorite of mine called “Lazy Mornin’,” which captures the gentle feeling that often strikes us upon awakening:  “Another lazy mornin’, no need to get down on anyone, my son, coffee’s in the kitchen, woman on the run, no need to get bothered, I’ll think about Monday when Monday comes…”

“A Beautiful Morning,” The Rascals, 1968

81Jts1d1ZaL._SS500_Continuing the theme of sunny optimism that marked their previous #1 hit “Groovin,” songwriters Felix Cavaliere and Eddie Brigati of The Young Rascals came up with the joyous “A Beautiful Morning,”  which became a big hit in April 1968, perhaps the happiest hippie anthem in a tumultuous year that needed all the good vibes it could get:  “It’s a beautiful morning, I think I’ll go outside for a while, and just smile, just take in some clean fresh air, boy, no sense in staying inside if the weather’s fine…”

“Angel of the Morning,” The Pretenders, 1995

9780385540629_wide-565f21f0245d68397e8b9160683b3f765c81dafe-s800-c85If morning’s echo says we’ve sinned, it was what I wanted now, and if we’re victims of the night, I won’t be blinded by the light, just call me angel of the morning, angel, just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby…”  This dramatic song, written by Chip Taylor about a woman who felt betrayed but defiant after a one-night stand, was originally a #7 hit back in 1968 for Merilee Rush.  Then Judy “Juice” Newton had the biggest hit of her career with her remake of “Angel,” which peaked at #4 in 1981.  I happen to think the version recorded by The Pretenders for use in a 1995 episode of “Friends” was better than either of those, thanks to a stellar delivery by Chrissie Hynde.

“Touch Me in the Morning,” Diana Ross, 1973

51D6yNtLcEL._SY355_“If I’ve got to be strong, don’t you know I need to have tonight when you’re gone?, until you go, I need to lie here, and think about the last time that you’ll touch me in the morning…” This bonafide classic was the first success for songwriter Michael Masser, who collaborated with seasoned lyricist Ron Miller to score a #1 hit.  Ross, who had young children at the time, preferred recording in all-night sessions, and this track proved especially challenging for the Motown diva before she finally nailed the take she wanted at 5 a.m. as the sun rose.

“Chelsea Morning,” Joni Mitchell, 1969

MI0002527614This delightful acoustic ditty, which appears on Mitchell’s second LP “Clouds” in 1969, became one of the most beloved songs in her catalog (it was the reason Bill & Hillary Clinton named their daughter Chelsea, they say).  Mitchell wrote it while she was living in an apartment in the Chelsea neighborhood of New York City:  “Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew, there was milk and toast and honey, and a bowl of oranges too, and the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses…”

“Good Morning Little Schoolgirl,” Muddy Waters, 1964

folk-singer-51bc6b42121ebWritten by Sonny Boy Williamson back in 1937, this blues standard has been recorded by dozens of artists in the years since, from The Yardbirds to Van Morrison, from Johnny Winter to Widespread Panic, from Paul Butterfield to Huey Lewis.  I really like the version the late blues titan Muddy Waters recorded in 1964 on his only all-acoustic album, “Muddy Waters, Folk Singer.”  I love the tune, but frankly, the lyrics sound more than a little unsavory today:  “Good morning little schoolgirl, can I go home with you, I’ll tell your mother and your father that I’m a little schoolboy too…”

“Meet Me in the Morning,” Bob Dylan, 1975

Bob-Dylan-Blood-On-the-Tracks-1974-frontThis simple blues tune in five verses is one of 10 superb tracks that made up Dylan’s 1975 masterpiece album “Blood on the Tracks.”  They say that misery and heartbreak are excellent muses for songwriters, and this album is proof of that.  At the time, Dylan was bemoaning the breakup of his marriage to Sara Lownes, and the lyrics to “Meet Me in the Morning” reflect that loss:  “They say the darkest hour is right before the dawn, but you wouldn’t know it by me, every day’s been darkness since you’ve been gone…”    

“When the Morning Comes,” Daryl Hall and John Oates, 1973

1973 Abandoned LuncheonetteThe Philadelphia duo became superstars in the early 1980s, but first Hall and Oates were struggling artists producing soft rock and blue-eyed soul in 1971-72.  Their second LP, 1973’s “Abandoned Luncheonette,” included the gem “She’s Gone” (a hit upon re-release in 1976), and also a few other beauties like “Las Vegas Turnaround” and “When the Morning Comes:  “Now I’m out in the cold, and I’m getting old, standing here waiting on you, but it’ll be all right when the morning comes…”

“Morning Dew,” Duane & Gregg Allman, 1968

74aeca4c-b539-11e4-8898-d0ee5b2c0751A Canadian folk musician named Bonnie Dobson wrote this thought-provoking song in 1961 about a man and woman who survive a nuclear apocalypse:  “Walk me out in the morning dew, no, there is no more morning dew, because what they’ve been sayin’ all these years has come true, it had to happen, you know, now there is no more morning dew…”  The Grateful Dead included it on their first record in 1967, and probably the best known version is on Jeff Beck’s 1968 debut LP “Truth,” with vocals by a young Rod Stewart.  But I’m partial to the version laid down by Duane and Gregg Allman for a shelved album that never saw release until 1972 after The Allman Brothers Band had become stars.

“Blue Morning, Blue Day,” Foreigner, 1978

51NyVwsfhSLLou Gramm and Mick Jones collaborated many tunes in the Foreigner repertoire.  One of their darker songs is this one about a musician who is troubled by a broken relationship and finds himself depressed and unable to reconcile:  “Out in the street, it’s six a.m., another sleepless night, three cups of coffee, but I can’t clear my head from what went down last night…”  The song reached #15 on the charts in March 1979 as the third single from Foreigner’s second LP, “Double Vision.”

“Good Morning Good Morning,” The Beatles, 1967

SgtPepper-1John Lennon claims he wrote this song one morning while eating corn flakes for breakfast and watching TV.  “It was just another typical morning in 1967, and I was writing about how some days are just a drudgery — ‘going to work, don’t wanna go, feeling low down’ — and then by evening, you’re feeling better — ‘go to a show, you hope she goes.’  I wrote it very quickly.  It’s a throwaway song, but I kind of like it.”  It’s one of the 12 songs that comprise The Beatles’ most celebrated work, the landmark 1967 LP “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”

“Monday Morning,” Fleetwood Mac, 1975

081227940638This great Lindsey Buckingham pop song kicked off the 1975 “Fleetwood Mac” album that rebooted the band’s career just as they were about to break up.  Buckingham’s pop sensibility and distinctive guitar playing and vocals, combined with harmonies from Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie, gave this track the spark that turned heads from the moment you dropped the needle on that classic LP.  The lyrics use days of the week to show the fleeting nature of relationships:  “Monday morning you sure look fine, Friday I’ve got traveling on my mind, first you love me, then you fade away, I can’t go on believing this way…”

“One Fine Morning,” Lighthouse, 1970

lighthouse_one-fine-morning_8While Blood, Sweat & Tears and Chicago were paving the way in the late ’60s and early ’70s with their use of jazz horn instruments in a rock band, a group called Lighthouse had considerable success in Canada with the same genre.  Their only US hit was “One Fine Morning,” which offered a sizzling arrangement with guitar, horns and a rollicking jazz piano solo, and songwriter Skip Prokop’s sunny lyrics about a couple hoping to make their dreams come true:  “One fine morning, girl, I’ll wake up, wipe the sleep from my eyes, go outside and feel the sunshine, then I know I’ll realize that as long as you love me, girl, we’ll fly…”

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Honorable mention:

Good Morning Starshine,” Oliver, 1969;  “Hour That the Morning Comes,” James Taylor, 1981;  “Sometime in the Morning,” The Monkees, 1967;  “Good Morning Judge,” 10CC, 1977;  “Sunday Morning,” Spanky and Our Gang, 1968;  “If I Don’t Be There By Morning,” Eric Clapton, 1980;  “Happier Than the Morning Sun,” Stevie Wonder, 1971;  “As I Went Out One Morning,” Bob Dylan, 1967;  “Tears in the Morning,” Beach Boys, 1970;  “Good Morning, Dear,” Roy Orbison, 1969;   “Early in the Morning,” Ray Charles, 1961;  “New Morning,” Bob Dylan, 1970;  Good Morning Girl,” Journey, 1980;  “Morning Glow,” Michael Jackson, 1973;  “Cold Morning Light,” Todd Rundgren, 1972;  “Woke Up This Morning,” B.B. King, 1957;  “Morning Glory,” Mary Travers, 1972;  “Your Love is Like the Morning Sun,” Al Green, 1973;  “July Morning,” Uriah Heep, 1971;  “I Woke Up in Love This Morning,” The Partridge Family, 1970..

 

 

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Are you with me, Doctor Wu?

This is the tenth and final (for now!) in a series of posts that feature analysis and commentary about some of my all-time favorite albums and artists.

To recap:  The following albums and artists have been singled out:  Crosby, Stills and Nash (and Young)’s “Crosby Stills and Nash” and “Deja Vu”;  The Who’s “Tommy” and “Who’s Next”;  Jethro Tull’s “Aqualung” and “Thick as a Brick”;  Bruce Springsteen’s “The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle” and “Born to Run”;  The James Gang’s “Yer’ Album” and Joe Walsh’s “The Smoker You Drink, the Player You Get”;  The Beatles’ “Rubber Soul,” “Revolver,” “The White Album” and “Abbey Road”;  Dire Straits’ “Making Movies” and “On Every Street”;  Joe Jackson’s “Night and Day” and “Blaze of Glory”;  and Led Zeppelin’s “Led Zeppelin” and “Led Zeppelin II.”  This final installment lauds Steely Dan’s “Countdown to Ecstasy” and “Katy Lied.”

At some point, several months from now, I will again offer analysis and commentary on more of what I consider some of my all-time favorite albums, but I felt it was time to get back to addressing other topics and milestones in the world of rock music of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s.  Rock on! 

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My introduction to the wondrous talents that comprise the curious musical entity known as Steely Dan came as it did, I suspect, for most rock music listeners:  the hypnotic salsa beat of the hit single “Do It Again,” which reached #6 on the US pop charts in late 1972/early 1973.  (I was a senior in high school then, and our basketball team featured a hot shooter named Jack, and whenever he made a basket, those of us in the stands would cheer, “Go back, Jack, do it again…”)

Six months later at graduation time, Steely Dan returned to the charts with “Reelin’ in the Years,” which provided a marvelous soundtrack for us to reminisce about our transition from high school to college.  At that point, I decided the band was worthy of d324f5cc4a16c309e75b5bc4200c6079.1000x1000x1further exploration and bought the debut LP, “Can’t Buy a Thrill.”  I was pleased to find a very appealing array of styles, textures, arrangements and lyrics contained in the ten tracks, especially “Dirty Work,” “Only a Fool Would Say That,” “Brooklyn” and “Kings.”

Soon enough, though, I turned my attentions elsewhere for the next year or so, concentrating on other stuff, mostly progressive rock, as I recall.  It was freshman year, after all, and I lived in a dorm full of like-minded stoners.

Then in May of 1974, I became aware of a new single by Steely Dan called “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number,” and, remembering how much I had enjoyed the first album, I raced to the record store to pick up their new LP.  To my surprise, I found not one but two “new” Steely Dan albums in the bins.  There was the just-released “Pretzel Logic,” featuring “Rikki,” but there was also “Countdown to Ecstasy,” their second album which had apparently been released with little fanfare, and no hit single, nine months earlier in  July 1973.

What a treat to suddenly have two Steely Dan LPs to delve into!  I found the accessible three-minute pop songs on “Pretzel Logic” to be instantly likable, catchy and captivating, especially “Night By Night,” “Parker’s Band,” “Barrytown” and “Charlie Freak.”  Donald Fagen’s enunciated vocals, embellished with rich harmonies behind them, brought the quirky lyrics to life, and the songs seemed to gallop along on the strength of sizzling guitar parts, sax solos and horn sections packed into each arrangement.

But I was much more intrigued by the longer tunes heard on “Countdown.”  Here, I thought, were some really substantive tracks on which the musicians could really stretch out.  Fagen and songwriting partner Walter Becker had come up with some more cover_4538717112009-1diversely challenging material that was at once accessible and more sophisticated, and the band members responded with obvious enthusiasm.

Take, for example, “My Old School,” an exuberant number about the duo’s days at Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, New York, where they met in the late ’60s.  They weren’t exactly fond of the place (hence the line, “California tumbles into the sea, that’ll be the day I go back to Annandale”), but nonetheless, many college reunions I’ve attended in the years since have featured old friends joyously singing this track at the top of their lungs.  The horn charts are, to my ears, among the most spectacular you’ll ever hear on a pop tune, expertly captured by producer Gary Katz, who manned the boards for all of Steely Dan’s albums.

Another impressive track is “Bodhisattva,” basically a blues-rock structure with jazz

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Baxter (left) and Dias from a 1973 TV appearance

underpinnings and a swing beat, and lots of room for some amazingly fluid guitar solos from Steely Dan’s original axemen, Denny Dias and Jeff “Skunk” Baxter.”  Baxter also shines on the delightful “Pearl of the Quarter,” an irresistibly heartfelt tribute to Louise, a New Orleans hooker, where he offers some sweet pedal steel guitar.

 

The song I can never get enough of is the album closer, “King of the World,” which utilizes Dias’s dexterous guitar and Fagen’s middle-break synthesizer on which to build a riveting work about what it might feel like to survive a nuclear apocalypse.  Few bands have ever come up with lines like these:  “No marigolds in the promised land, there’s a hole in the ground where they used to grow, any man left on the Rio Grande is the king of the world as far as I know…”

Although “Countdown to Ecstasy” really grew on me, to the point where it stands as one of my all-time favorites, none of its eight songs grabbed the denizens of 1973 pop radio.  “My Old School” and the celebrity-centric “Show Biz Kids” stiffed at #63 and #61, and the album managed to reach only #35, although earning gold-record status eventually.

Said Baxter at the time, “I think the diversity you hear on ‘Countdown’ makes it much more interesting for us and, we hope, for the people who buy the albums.  There are a lot of things you can grab on to, but that doesn’t mean we’re so predictable that you can instantly associated one cut with the next.  We’d rather have people looking forward to a song that might be completely different than looking forward to a song they know is going to sound the same as the last song.  It’s not the accepted commercial formula, which we think is usually a big mistake.”

As most observers now know, Steely Dan began in 1972 as a six-piece rock group that

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The original lineup (L-to-R):  drummer Jim Hodder, vocalist David Palmer, guitarist Denny Dias, keyboardist/vocalist Donald Fagen, guitarist Jeff “Skunk” Baxter” and bassist Walter Becker

could take the embraceable music and profoundly weird lyrics that Fagen and Becker were writing and turn them into solid recordings and play them convincingly in concert. And for two years, they did just that.  Fagen on keyboards and vocals, Becker on bass, Dias and Baxter on guitars, Jim Hodder on drums, and second singer David Palmer worked reasonably well as a unit, and racked up the early hit singles.

 

But Palmer proved to be an unnatural element and was dismissed, and Fagen and Becker quickly found that they loathed touring, largely because, as fussy perfectionists, they couldn’t rely on the notoriously unpredictable sound quality of concert venues and their often sketchy equipment and technicians.  Steely Dan soon became the first major pop group to openly defy their record label by refusing to tour at all, and rarely doing interviews, concentrating all their efforts instead on songwriting and recording.

That decision may have irked the guys in the suits, but it fascinated critics and fans, who liked what they heard and were satisfied to let the music on the albums do the talking.  The other casualty was Baxter, who made his money from touring and couldn’t afford to hang around for the periodic studio gig, and instead joined The Doobie Brothers, a hard-working touring band for the remainder of the ’70s.

Fagen and Becker, who both tended to prefer jazz music over rock, thought they could AR-AK759_DEACON_8S_20150904180010bring that sort of loose-formed sensibility to what they were doing in the studio.  In a 1975 article, Fagen described it this way:  “We find that we want to pick musicians we think will fit a particular song.  Sometimes we’ll hear somebody on a record and hire them for the date, and if it works out, great.  Jazz musicians are always playing with different people, and I don’t see why that can’t happen here.  Of course, some rock musicians don’t like that.  We might have chords that constantly modulate, and they don’t know what’s going on, and they freak out and leave.  That’s okay.  We find somebody else.”

Beginning in 1975 with the stunning “Katy Lied,” that’s exactly what transpired.  Seven different guitarists are used on the album’s ten tracks, from Becker and Dias to jazz greats Larry Carlton and Elliott Randall and rock stalwart Rick Derringer.  Future vocal superstar steelydan~~_katyliedj_101bMichael McDonald beefs up the background voices, and eventual Toto founders Jeff Porcaro on drums and David Paich on keyboards bring muscle to the arrangements as well.

Even though there were technical problems in bringing the album to realization, and Fagen still has regrets with the final mix, I was among those who was completely floored by how amazing it sounded through a good sound system in 1975.  And Side One (remember when the songs were divided into Side One and Side Two?) remains, for me, one of the all-time best album sides ever recorded.  “Black Friday,” “Bad Sneakers,” “Rose Darling,” “Daddy Don’t Live in New York City No More” and “Doctor Wu” are five back-to-back killer Fagen-Becker masterpieces, each expertly performed by some of the best musicians in the business.

Which is not to detract from Side Two’s fine moments, including Derringer’s solo on the bluesy “Chain Lightning,” McDonald’s prominent voice on “Any World That I’m Welcome To,” and the cheesy funk of Fagen’s keyboards on the perverse “Everyone’s Gone to the Movies,” wherein a local weirdo delights in showing stag films to the neighborhood kids in his den.  Such a motley stew of sounds and themes coming at you in Steely Dan’s albums…

The trend toward multiple guest musicians and lyrics about fringe outcasts continued with 1976’s “The Royal Scam,” hailed by some critics as Steely Dan’s finest achievement, and there are certainly tracks found there that rank among the true gems of Steely Dan’s catalog, like “Kid Charlemagne,” “Don’t Take Me Alive” and the harrowing title track.

Their commercial peak was “Aja,” which reached #3 on the album charts and sold many millions of copies on the strength of its three hit singles (“Deacon Blues,” “Peg” and “Josie”), and it often served as the go-to album played at concert venues as the roadies changed equipment from the warm-up act to the headliner.  Its impossibly slick production values were held up as the gold standard by many, while others criticized that perfection as the antithesis of what rock’s dirty rebel soul was supposed to sound like.

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“The Dan,” circa 1974

And sure enough, the tipping point came within the next couple of years, as the sound that eventually became pejoratively known as “yacht rock” gave way to a quirkier New Wave vibe, injecting fresh ideas into what had become a relatively ho-hum scene.   “Gaucho,” Steely Dan’s last album for three decades, explored the decadence of LA like never before on ear-candy tracks like “Babylon Sisters” and “Glamour Profession,” more slick sounding than even anything on “Aja.”  It’s unquestionably a worthy entry in the Dan catalog.

But I will always prefer, and invariably return to, what I heard from the Fagen-Becker team in their 1973-1975 period than what followed.  There was something so radical and yet comforting, so inventive and yet familiar, in the songs they made at that point in the evolution of their song crafting.  I invite you all to wrap your heads around these albums and breathe deep.  This is amazing stuff.

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The Spotify list below offers “Countdown to Ecstasy” and “Katy Lied” in their entirety, but I couldn’t resist sneaking in another couple of tracks from “Pretzel Logic” in between, just to remind you of the stellar quality of Steely Dan’s work found elsewhere during that period.