When rock and roll arrived in the 1950s, the music may have pushed a lot of boundaries — the beat, the arrangement, the singing –but not the song length. Virtually every track on every album lasted somewhere between two and three minutes because that’s what radio stations demanded, and record companies eager for airplay were happy to comply.

In the ’60s, though, that began to change. In 1965, Dylan’s iconic hit single “Like a Rolling Stone” broke the six-minute barrier, and The Beatles’ “Hey Jude” in 1968 was more than seven minutes (although some stations cut off the “na na na na-na-na-na” coda well before the end). By the early 1970s, psychedelic groups such as The Grateful Dead and Iron Butterfly and progressive rock bands like Genesis and Jethro Tull were releasing songs that lasted the length of an entire album side — 15 or 20 minutes or more.

But what about the other extreme? I was listening to some vintage albums recently and came across quite a few tracks that pushed boundaries in the opposite direction — songs that last well under two minutes. Some were less than a minute long. It begs the question: Are these really songs, or just song fragments tacked on to albums in a moment of what-the-hell whimsy?

Some short tracks were designed to be brief. James Taylor’s 1972 LP “One Man Dog” has eight tracks clocking in under two minutes. Several were strung together in a six-song medley that concludes the album, but songs like “New Tune,” “Fool for You” and “Chili Dog” are stand-alone tunes that make their case in about 1:40 apiece.

On epic productions like The Who’s “Tommy” or Pink Floyd’s “The Wall,” there are several very short “songs” that are really nothing more than bridges to further the story and connect the longer songs.

Still others sound like they’re unfinished, maybe because the artist lost interest in developing the idea any further, but went ahead and included it on the album anyway. Paul McCartney’s 1970 album opener “The Lovely Linda” (44 seconds) and Taylor’s 1971 album closer “Isn’t It Nice to Be Home Again” (55 seconds) end barely before they’ve begun.

I’ve gathered 21 short-but-sweet examples of brutally concise songs by artists of the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s and ’80s. It certainly won’t take much time to listen to the Spotify playlist found at the end!

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“Mercedes Benz,” Janis Joplin, 1971

Joplin had heard a poem by San Francisco beat poet Michael McClure that began, “Come on, God, and buy me a Mercedes Benz.” She began singing that line one night while sitting in a bar with singer-songwriter Bob Neuwirth, and the two of them exchanged verses about other things she might want God to buy for her. This anti-consumerism tune, sung in an a cappella arrangement lasting a mere 1:47, was the last song Joplin ever recorded, and ended up on her posthumous #1 album “Pearl” in 1971.

“Welcome to the Working Week,” Elvis Costello, 1977

The first song on Costello’s astonishing debut LP “My Aim is True” is this 1:23 quickie that immediately establishes him as the fiery non-conformist that would be a defining feature of his career. While classics like “Alison” and “Watching the Detectives” deservedly got more airplay, “Welcome to the Working Week” deftly and succinctly commiserates with working stiffs who head off to a job they hate: “Oh I know it don’t thrill you, I hope it don’t kill you… You gotta do it ’til you’re through it, so you better get to it…”

“Little Deuce Coupe,” The Beach Boys, 1963

While the first three Beach Boys LPs were heavy on surfing tunes, their fourth focused on cars and hot rods, the other key element of the Southern California lifestyle. All the Beach Boys’ early songs were relatively short and to the point (under 2:30 in length), but “Little Deuce Coupe,” which reached #15 as the B-side of the “Surfer Girl” single, faded out at only 1:41. Brian Wilson wrote this and several other car songs with local DJ Roger Christian, who came up with the lyrics. Wilson noted the tune had “a good shuffle rhythm that had a bouncy feel to it.”

“Father of Night,” Bob Dylan, 1970

Out of the 360 songs Dylan has written and recorded on nearly 40 studio albums, this is the shortest. He wrote it and two others for a play by poet Archibald MacLeish entitled “Scratch,” but a disagreement with the play’s producer resulted in Dylan pulling the songs from the project and re-directing them to his next studio album, 1970’s “New Morning.” He wrote “Father of Night” as a modern re-interpretation of Amidah, the central prayer of the Jewish liturgy that encompasses a number of daily blessings.

“Breaking Glass,” David Bowie, 1977

Bowie was fighting cocaine addiction when he fled L.A. in the mid-’70s for Berlin, where he teamed up with ambient music guru Brian Eno. The experimental tracks recorded for Bowie’s “Low” album emphasize tone and atmosphere rather than guitar-based rock, and the music is influenced by German bands such as Tangerine Dream and Kraftwerk. “Breaking Glass” is defined by Bowie producer Tony Visconti as a song fragment (1:52) that was intended to be incorporated into something larger, but was ultimately left as is.  

“Oh Baby, Don’t You Loose Your Lip on Me,” James Taylor, 1970

After an unsuccessful debut LP on Apple Records in 1969, Taylor and manager-producer Peter Asher jumped ship from London to L.A. and came up with the simple, direct, unassuming “Sweet Baby James” album, combining acoustic folk, country blues and a smidgen of rock. Nestled next to hits like “Fire and Rain,” “Country Road” and “Steamroller” is this short (1:49) track which features Taylor and longtime collaborator Danny Kortchmar exchanging impressive acoustic guitar riffs while JT puts on a clinic in ad-libbed blues vocals. It’s short and to the point, and a tad messy, but that’s part of its charm.

“Through With Buzz,” Steely Dan, 1974

On “Pretzel Logic,” the group’s third album, songwriters Donald Fagen and Walter Becker came up with some of their catchiest pop tunes (“Night By Night,” “Barrytown,” “Charlie Freak,” “With a Gun”), seemingly determined to bring them in at under three minutes. The shortest of the bunch (1:32) is a curiously appealing number called “Through With Buzz,” a diatribe against a guy who stole the narrator’s money and girlfriend. Fagen has said he got stuck on the song’s structure, unsure where to go next, and chose to abruptly bring it to an end.

“Tea For the Tillerman,” Cat Stevens, 1970

Stevens (now Yusef) made his initial splash in the US with this remarkable 1970 album full of engaging melodies and serious lyrics about searching for spiritual meaning in a soulless society. “Wild World” was the hit single, but “Father and Son,” “Longer Boats” and “On the Road to Find Out” eventually made as much or more impact. Serving as the album’s coda is the brief (1:06) title track, featuring Stevens bringing the album full circle to its opener, “Where Do the Children Play,” singing about how “the children play (rather than pray), Oh Lord, how they play and play for that happy day…”

“Rave On,” Buddy Holly, 1958

Co-written and first recorded by Texas singer Sonny West, “Rave On” became a modest hit for Holly in the US when he laid down his own rendition in early 1958. While it didn’t chart as high as “That’ll Be the Day,” “Peggy Sue” and “Oh Boy” here, it was a Top Five hit in the UK. “Rave On” was highly influential, covered by many other artists over the ensuing decades and ranked at #154 on Rolling Stone’s “500 Greatest Songs of All Time.” Nearly all of Holly’s songs in his brief career were compact, but “Rave On” leads the bunch at 1:47.

“April Come She Will,” Simon and Garfunkel, 1966

On the duo’s five studio albums, you’ll find four tracks under two minutes long, including the whimsical “The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy)” and the poignant “Song For the Asking,” but I’ve selected the perfectly concise (1:51) story-poem “April Come She Will.” Quite a few of Simon’s early lyrics focus on isolation, angst and death, and “April,” in which a woman arrives in spring and is gone by autumn, is one of them. It later made an appearance alongside “Mrs. Robinson” and others in the 1967 film soundtrack of “The Graduate.”

“Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?” The Beatles, 1968

John Lennon went on record saying he was disappointed Paul McCartney hadn’t asked him to participate in the studio recording of this bawdy blues tune from The Beatles’ “White Album.” There was tension in the band at the time, as Lennon was distracted by new lover Yoko Ono, so McCartney grabbed Ringo to record the drums while he added keyboards and bass, and gave the song an aptly ragged vocal. Paul wrote “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?” in India one morning after watching two monkeys copulating on an ashram pathway. It lasts only 1:41.

“Till the Morning Comes,” Neil Young, 1970

From Young’s classic “After the Gold Rush” album, this track certainly sounds as if he gave up on it. It’s got a nice piano-based melody and an arrangement that begins to build in instrumentation (bass, drums, French horn) and voices, but then just when you’re looking for another verse, maybe a bridge, a solo, something, it simply fades out at 1:16. I always wondered whether he regards this tune as unfinished business; knowing him, probably not.

“Rachel,” Seals and Crofts, 1974

The multi-tracked vocal harmonies this soft-rock duo committed to vinyl are some of the prettiest of that era, from “Summer Breeze” and “Diamond Girl” to “We May Never Pass This Way Again” and “Hummingbird.” Jimmy Seals sings lead, with Dash Crofts handling the upper register. On their lesser-known LP “Unborn Child,” you’ll find “Rachel,” less than a minute long and sorely in need of further development. But it somehow works as the Side Two opener, with guitar and mandolin and those impeccable harmonies.

“Cheap Day Return,” Jethro Tull, 1971

Critics have labeled Tull’s “Aqualung” a concept album criticizing organized religion, but in fact, only three songs deal with that subject (“My God,” “Hymn 43” and “Wind Up”). The title track and “Locomotive Breath” are classic rock war horses still in heavy rotation, but scattered throughout the album are reflective acoustic pieces that keep listeners on their toes. One is “Cheap Day Return,” a 1:21-long bauble featuring Ian Anderson musing about an incident when the nurse tending to his dying father asked Anderson for an autograph.

“Call on Me,” The Bangles, 1981

Susanna Hoffs joined forces with sisters Debbi and Vikki Peterson to form The Bangs in 1980, recording their first single “Getting Out of Hand,” backed with the quick-and-dirty “Call on Me” (1:34). Turns out another group owned the name The Bangs, so they modified their name to Bangles and went on to great success in the latter ’80s with power pop hits like “Manic Monday,” “Walk Like an Egyptian” and “Eternal Flame.” There’s a New Wave-y feel to the early “Call on Me,” and an almost countryish guitar solo in the middle.

“(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear,” Elvis Presley, 1957

Thanks to aggressive promotion by manager “Colonel” Tom Parker, Presley’s singing and acting careers developed simultaneously, and he found himself in a starring role in the frothy film “Loving You” in 1957, only a year after his first #1 hit (“Heartbreak Hotel”). Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller wrote the movie’s title song, but it was only the B-side for Presley’s next #1 hit, “Teddy Bear,” penned by Kal Mann and Bernie Lowe. Clocking in at only 1:45, it was one of the shortest #1 singles in Billboard history, and hugely popular, holding the #1 spot for seven weeks.

“Eruption,” Van Halen, 1978

When America’s premier rock band of the 1980s first showed up in 1978 with their self-titled debut LP, one of the tracks that had jaws dropping across the country was “Eruption,” a mind-blowing electric guitar workout featuring (who else?) the late great Eddie Van Halen. It was an instrumental and lasted only 1:44, but it remains high on the list of fan favorites and was often part of their concert set list. (Another short VH track, “Spanish Fly,” only 1:02 in length, features virtuoso Eddie on classical guitar.)

“Smash the Mirror,” The Who, 1969

As mentioned earlier, The Who’s iconic rock opera “Tommy” has a few short tracks that serve to move the story along and link longer, more pivotal songs. At only 1:30, “Smash the Mirror” has the beginnings of a proper tune, but it’s soon clear that its purpose is to be the climactic moment when Tommy has a monumental breakthrough to cure his deaf-dumb-and-blindness, and segues next into “Sensation,” when he realizes the impact he has made as a world-class pinball player.

“Please, Please, Please, Can I Get What I Want,” The Smiths, 1985

Although The Smiths were more of a cult favorite in the US, they were enormously popular and influential in their native England. Their jangly indie rock/pop sound and the smartly accessible songs of lyricist/singer Morrissey and guitarist Johnny Marr made their four albums “must haves” throughout the UK and Europe. Early in 1984, “William, It Was Really Nothing” was a #17 single in the UK, and its B-side was the lush “Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want,” which leaves the listener wanting more when it ends way too soon at 1:52.

“Stay,” Maurice Williams and The Zodiacs, 1960

This irresistible singalong song was written in 1953 by Williams at only 15, immediately after failing to convince his young date not to go home at 10:00 as her father had insisted. It was finally recorded in 1960 by Williams’s band The Zodiacs, and it reached #1 for a week in December of that year. At 1:36, it still holds the record for shortest #1 song ever on the US charts. The song found new life when Jackson Browne included it on his “Running on Empty” LP in 1977, and again in 1987 when The Zodiacs’ version was used in the film “Dirty Dancing.”

“Seasons,” Elton John, 1971

Before stardom found them, Elton John and songwriting partner Bernie Taupin signed a deal to provide several songs for a French film called “Friends,” directed by Lewis Gilbert. It was a box office dud, but the soundtrack did well thanks to Elton’s involvement. The song “Friends” made the Top 40 in the US, and four others are well worth your attention. There’s a beautiful ballad called “Seasons” that appears twice, tied into some Paul Buckmaster orchestral score music. The full reprise of it at the end of the album lasts 1:39.

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Honorable mention as the shortest tune of them all:

“Her Majesty,” The Beatles, 1969

McCartney wrote this irreverent little ditty about the Queen and placed it between “Mean Mr. Mustard” and “Polythene Pam” on the 15-minute medley from Side 2 of “Abbey Road.” Upon hearing an early run-through of the medley, McCartney decided he didn’t like “Her Majesty” after all and told the engineer to cut it. Having been instructed to never throw any Beatles tape away, he spliced the 36-second tune onto the end of the leader tape for the time being. Later, when the whole band listened to the medley, “Her Majesty” came through the speakers as a surprise after 15 seconds of silence. They loved that and left it there.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”  “A chip off the old block.”  “Like father, like son.”

They say that children are often like their parents in many ways.  Depending on the parent, that may or may not be a good thing.  And if you’re the child of a celebrity, you’re typically scrutinized more than the average kid, and often held to a higher standard just because of who your father or mother is.

This is especially true in the entertainment industry when Mom or Dad is a national or international star, and truer still if the son or daughter chooses a career in the same profession.

“Children of rock music celebrities are often given special attention not for who they are, but for who their parents are,” said John Altman, an L.A.-based psychiatrist who has treated many stars’ children.  “They may feel they’ll never be able to measure up to this hyper-idealized version of the famous parent.”  Added psychiatrist Carole Lieberman, “The child becomes interesting to us simply due to their genes, and the media feed this interest.  Some offspring develop problems over this, but many lead normal, well-adjusted lives, even when they become celebrities themselves.”

In the popular music arena, there are many compelling stories of children of rock stars who also pursued careers in music, with varying degrees of fame or success.

Let’s take a look first at Jakob Dylan, the 46-year-old son of the legendary Bob Dylan.  Although he grew up mostly with his mother, he saw his father often, and grew up absorbing the music and watching Dad’s concerts, tagging along at 17 on the 1986 summer tour when Dylan played with Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers.  At age 20, Jakob tried his hand at writing songs and formed The Wallflowers, who released their debut album in 1992 to dismal sales and modest critical acclaim.  He learned immediately he wasn’t about to get a free pass to the top of the charts just because of his famous father.

But he and The Wallflowers persevered, toured as an opening act, endured a few personnel changes and a switch of record labels, all the while writing more songs.  By 1996, their second album, “Bringing Down the Horse,” went multi-platinum, outselling any of his father’s individual albums, and the single “One Headlight” went to #2 and won a Grammy for Best Rock Song in 1998.  He has continued to write and record new music ever since, both with the band and as a solo artist.  The band warmed up for Eric Clapton’s tour a couple years ago and is currently touring small halls and festivals.

“I’m aware of the inevitable comparisons, but I would also say my dad doesn’t own acoustic music,” said Jakob in 2008.  “Music is in my soul, and I never really considered doing anything else.  It’s a thrill, and nothing that I can stop anyhow.”  Greg Richling, his longtime bass player who left in 2013, takes issue with those who compare Jakob’s songs to his father’s iconic work.  “You see things, people saying, ‘He’s not his dad.’  My reaction is, ‘You’re not either, man. Who the hell are you to say that?  You’re holding him to a standard that nobody can live up to.'”

James McCartney, age 38, only recently summoned the nerve to make a go of it in the music business. “Growing up, I guess I put a lot of pressure on myself, but I didn’t want to be a cliche, a Beatle son being a musician.”  He was very close to his mother Linda, and when she died in 1998 when James was 21, he spiraled down into a decade of drug abuse, and became estranged from his father and new wife Heather Mills, who James disliked.

By 2008, he and Paul reconciled, and he began recording his own songs, with Dad producing.  James has released several EPs (check out 2010’s “Available Light” in particular) and two albums, including this year’s “The Blackberry Train,” and is also currently wrapping up a tour of US cities, which he has found “simultaneously thrilling and nerve-wracking.”  He understands why the public’s interest in him is laced with skepticism.  “Let’s face it, it’s very hard to live up to The Beatles.  Even Dad found it hard to live up to The Beatles when he first went out with Wings.”

Facing a similar dilemma was Julian Lennon, John’s son with his first wife Cynthia.  Born in 1963 in the midst of Beatlemania and essentially ignored and abandoned by his dad after he left with Yoko Ono, Julian built up a resentment made worse after John showered attention on his second son, Sean.  “Dad could talk about peace and love out loud to the world, but he could never show it to the people who should mean the most to him, like me and my mom,” Julian said.  “Frankly, I was always closer to Paul than I ever was to my dad.”

Lennon’s murder in 1980 compounded Julian’s issues, requiring years of therapy.  But he found the strength to pursue his own musical career in 1984 with the release of “Valotte,” a strong debut that found a receptive audience (#15 on the album charts) and two Top Ten singles (“Valotte” at #9 and “Too Late for Goodbyes” at #5).    Many listeners were unnerved by how much Julian’s vocals echoed those of his late father.  His songs were great, but coming so soon after John’s death, it was, to my ears, a little creepy.  He released four more albums but never matched the success of his debut, and soon left the music business for the most part, instead pursuing interests in film and photography.

Sean Lennon, meanwhile, has a different perspective; he was only five at the time of his dad’s assassination.  He hung on tight to his mother for love and guidance, and developed a passion for music and art of all kinds.  “The main reason I’m into music and art is because of my parents,” he said.  “My respect for them defines everything I do.”  At 23 and again at 31, he released albums of original material, but he has discovered he prefers behind-the-scenes roles like film scoring and producing other bands instead of singing or writing — possibly, he concedes, because his last name brings him more attention than he really wants.

“No matter what I do,” he said, “some people will always see me as the spoiled slacker son of John and Yoko.  There’s always going to be that element, and I kind of have to accept it and do my own thing anyway.  Some people suggested I do things under a pseudonym to see what people’s true reaction would be, but I always thought that would be disrespectful to my dad and my family, and not honest with myself.  I thought, ‘Wait, I can’t be proud of who I am?'”

Dhani Harrison, three years younger than Sean, grew up in a loving household on a lush estate in Esher with his father George and mother Olivia.  “Dad’s studio was directly below my bedroom, so my floor was always rattling from the music,” he recalled.  “I remember the Traveling Wilburys were there recording when I was about 10, and that was pretty amazing.  I’d come down for tea and there’s Bob Dylan and Jeff Lynne.  I kind of grew up in the studio learning how to produce and play, and I felt very comfortable there.  Dad and I were best friends, so spending a lot of time with him in the studio was natural.”

At 23, Dhani helped finish “Brainwashed,” the album George was working on when he died of cancer in 2001.  Dhani has dabbled in the music business only occasionally, appearing on guitar in high-profile events like “Concert for George” in 2002 and the 2007 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony when Harrison was voted in as a solo artist.  Dhani had mixed feelings about the Martin Scorsese documentary on George released in 2011.  “It’s a hard thing to understand unless you’ve had a parent who’s passed away who was in the public eye.  Sometimes you don’t want to share him.”

Wendy and Carnie Wilson had an especially challenging row to hoe.  Their famous father Brian, the tortured genius songwriter/arranger/producer for The Beach Boys, was unable or unwilling to communicate with them, or anyone, for decades as he struggled with mental illness and a power-mad therapist.   The sisters were 21 and 23 in 1990 when they teamed up with Chynna Phillips, daughter of Mama Michelle Phillips and Papa John Phillips, to form Wilson Phillips.  The trio sold six million copies of their international #1 single “Hold On,” which was nominated for a Song of the Year Grammy.

On their deeply personal second album, the ladies wrote songs about their estranged fathers.  Chynna’s song “All the Way From New York” mourns the nonexistent relationship she had with her drug-abusing father, while Wendy’s and Carnie’s tearjerker, “Flesh and Blood,” is more hopeful of a reconciliation:  “I want to make you laugh, I want a chance to know you better, I want to hear you sing beside me now, flesh and blood…”

Offspring of country music artists have their own tales to tell.  Roseanne Cash, the talented 65-year-old eldest daughter of the late great Johnny Cash, showed interest in the music world from a young age, and started at 18 by helping out backstage on her dad’s tours.  Before long, she was singing background vocals and occasionally soloing in shows, and Cash recorded one of her songs in 1976 when she was just 20.  By the time she was 26, Roseanne was queen of the country music airwaves with her LP and single “Seven Year Ache,” which topped the country charts and even reached #22 on the pop charts.  She scored numerous Top Five country hits throughout the ’80s, and has continued recording albums and duets up to the present day.  When sidelined by injuries and surgeries, or mourning her father’s death in 2003, she kept busy writing books and poetry.

Still, she said, she had issues with being Johnny’s daughter.  “People think you have it easy, and they resent you,” she said.  “I was thinking about using my grandmother’s name to hide the connection.  But you know, I was too stupid, too proud to go to my dad for guidance.  That’s one regret I have — that I didn’t go to him more.”

Natalie Cole idolized her father, the smooth crooner Nat “King” Cole, whose recordings were ever-present on the pop charts in the ’50s and early ’60s.  She sang on a few of his albums and was devastated when her dad died in 1965 when she was only 15.  She had a difficult relationship with her mother and started experimenting with drugs, but with her powerful jazz-and-gospel-inflected voice, she was determined to make it in show business.  She was eager to emerge from her father’s shadow in the ’70s by staking out her own territory with R&B tunes, and was met with resistance.  Natalie recalled, “People said when I started, ‘Why don’t you just copy your father’s style?’, but I had to be myself, singing my own songs in my own way.”

She wasn’t wrong.  Her phenomenal 1975 debut LP “Inseparable” and its #6 hit single “This Will Be” made an indelible impression, and she went on to top the R&B charts for the rest of the decade. But the ’80s were less kind to her, and then in 1991, she scored her biggest success singing the standards her father used to sing.  Thanks to studio wizardry, her vocal was grafted onto her dad’s recording of “Unforgettable” to produce a duet that won multiple Grammys and sold millions. Natalie died in 2016 at age 65.

So many other parent/child stories in popular music…and not enough space:

There’s Jason Bonham, son of the late Led Zeppelin drummer John Bonham, who has drummed for Paul Rodgers, Ted Nugent, Joe Bonamassa, Foreigner, Heart, and at the momentous reunion with Jimmy Page, Robert Plant and John Paul Jones for Led Zeppelin’s 2007 performance captured on the 2012 “Celebration Day” CD/DVD.

There’s Zak Starkey, son of Beatle Ringo Starr, who has toured with his dad’s All-Starr Band and served as drummer for The Who and Oasis.

There’s Arlo Guthrie, son of the legendary folkie Woody Guthrie; there’s the late great Elvis’s daughter, Lisa Marie Presley, who had two popular albums in the 2000s; and there’s Ben Taylor, whose voice is a dead ringer for his father, James Taylor.

There’s the late Jeff Buckley, introspective singer-songwriter son of introspective singer-songwriter Tim Buckley (1947-1975); there’s the multi-talented Ziggy Marley, son of reggae guru Bob Marley;  there’s singer Louise Goffin, daughter of ’60s and ’70s songwriting titan Carole King (and late ex-husband Gerry Goffin); there’s Rufus Wainwright, son of ’70s singer-songwriter Loudon Wainwright; there’s singers Gunnar and Matthew Nelson, twin sons of ’50s teen idol Rick Nelson; there’s guitarist Dweezil Zappa, son of progressive trailblazer Frank Zappa; and there’s ’60s “Boots” girl Nancy Sinatra, daughter of the one and only Frank Sinatra.

There’s no way I can ignore the three-generation hat trick of Hank Williams, Hank Williams Jr. and Hank Williams III, but their lengthy story needs its own column, I think.  Here’s a sample lyric from Hank Jr.’s 1979 hit, “Family Tradition,” that explains why:  “I am very proud of my daddy’s name, although his kind of music and mine ain’t exactly the same, stop and think it over, put yourself in my position, if I get stoned and sing all night long, it’s a family tradition…”  

Then there’s the story of Miley Cyrus, daughter of Billy “Achy Breaky Heart” Cyrus who has commanded non-stop attention (both positive and negative) since her 2007 musical debut, eclipsing her father’s fame with an uninterrupted string of enormously popular albums and singles in multiple genres.

And I’ll bet you didn’t know this one:  The wonderfully sensuous song stylist Norah Jones, who won multiple Grammys in 2007 and continues to impress us with new work, is the daughter of Indian raga/sitar master Ravi Shankar!

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