Who’s gonna play this old piano after I’m not here?

Posted on by brucehhackett

This year’s inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame were announced recently, and I’m pleased to see several vintage rockers finally get the nod: Joe Cocker, Bad Company, Warren Zevon, Nicky Hopkins. I first wrote about Cocker two weeks ago, and I’ll be profiling the others in the coming weeks. Today’s post is on brilliant session keyboard player Nicky Hopkins.

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There’s an important truth about many of the legendary bands whose albums are so important to us: Quite often, the music was made much more interesting and dynamic because of the contributions of incredibly talented session musicians.

To the public at large, even to many music lovers, these superb instrumentalists are mostly anonymous. Their peers in the music business know who they are — these unsung heroes who play keyboards, guitars, saxes and percussion to fill out the arrangements of songs written by the main recording artist — but the majority of the listening audience doesn’t have a clue, and perhaps doesn’t much care.

When you take a close look at the list of classic rock songs and more than 250 albums on which pianist Nicky Hopkins appeared, I’m pretty sure it’ll leave you stunned, especially if you’re a casual fan who’s never heard of Hopkins before reading this piece.

Consider these iconic artists with whom Hopkins made an impact: The Who. The Rolling Stones. The Kinks. The Beatles. John Lennon. Jeff Beck. Steve Miller Band. Ringo Starr. Joe Cocker. Jefferson Airplane. Jerry Garcia Band.

And those are just the A-list names. There’s also Donovan, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Carly Simon, Art Garfunkel, Peter Frampton, Harry Nilsson, Graham Parker, Badfinger, Cat Stevens and Jennifer Warnes, and more.

Because I’m an aficionado (read: music trivia nerd) who absorbs all sorts of information about the albums I’ve bought, I’ve been aware of Hopkins’ name since at least 1969 when it appeared on the credits of The Rolling Stones’ “Let It Bleed” LP, and I’ve made note of his musical contributions ever since. He was a “first call” keyboard man for a couple decades, and his piano solos and the recorded parts he provided were essential to countless classic tracks.

Hopkins performing at Woodstock with Jefferson Airplane

To some extent, Hopkins’ stature in the business benefited from fortunate timing. My friend Irwin Fisch, a skilled keyboard player, arranger and composer and an associate professor at New York University, explains: “In the first wave of rock in the ’50s, the songs were almost entirely blues-based, and guitar-based. The piano players just found a way to take their backgrounds in blues and jazz and fit to a guitar-based framework. But when the British Invasion bands of the ’60s, which were still mostly guitar-forward, starting writing more creatively, there was an opening for skilled piano players to invent a role and wrangle a lot of different influences.  Hopkins did that with The Stones and The Who early on. The guitar-centric industry created Nicky Hopkins; if those bands had actual piano players, we probably wouldn’t be talking about him.”

Indeed. Hopkins grew up in the Greater London area and showed remarkable potential on piano before he was five years old. He won a scholarship to the Royal Academy of London as a teen and left school at 16 to play with a number of regional British bands in the early ’60s. But he suffered from Crohn’s disease and was hospitalized for nearly two years in his late teens, undergoing a series of operations that left him in frail health for most of his life.

His precarious health left him too weak for the rigors of touring, which caused him to concentrate on session work and decline invitations to join bands that frequently went on the road. The Who, in particular, were eager to have Hopkins in their lineup after his stellar work on their “My Generation” debut LP and various singles in the mid-’60s.

“Pete Townshend told me if I ever wanted to be in a band, he wanted me to consider them first,” said Hopkins in 1972. “I wasn’t sure I was strong enough and, in the end, nothing happened, but they were probably my favorite act to work with. Their material is so strong, but it was left up to me what I played on their records. Pete Townshend would bring demos in for us to listen to, and they were incredible. Sometimes they sounded as good as the finished project. But the piano bits are basically my own.”

If you want to hear Hopkins at his best, you need look no further than “The Song is Over,” the stellar track from “Who’s Next” that ranks as one of the finest moments in The Who’s entire catalog. Seasoned keyboard man Chuck Leavell, who has recorded and toured extensively with The Rolling Stones and The Allman Brothers, said, “Nicky would come up with these little vignettes that would make you go, ‘Wow, that bit MAKES that song.'”

Said Fisch, “It’s safe to say that every pop and rock piano player owes him, and they’ll all say so. You can hear his licks, his rhythms, and his arranging in many of the piano parts conceived by most of the players who have the biggest footprints in pop and rock — Elton John, Bill Payne, Roy Bittan, Chuck Leavell, among others.”

In addition to his involvement with The Who, Hopkins participated in many sessions with The Kinks during their early heyday in the 1965-1968 period, including the hit “Sunny Afternoon” and albums like “The Kink Controversy,” “Face to Face” and “Something Else.” Kinks guitarist Dave Davies recalled, “Nicky was inspiring, and talented, but he was invisible. It’s an instinct. It’s an art form, being a good session man.”

In a more prominent way, Hopkins was featured on dozens of classic Rolling Stones recordings. That’s him doing the classically-themed piano on “She’s a Rainbow” (1967), the relentless keyboard throughout “Sympathy For the Devil” (1968), the dramatic intro to “Monkey Man” (1969), the main melody behind “Angie” (1973), and the fine piano work on “Time Waits For No One” (1974), “Fool to Cry” (1976) and “Waiting on a Friend” (1981).

Hopkins working with The Rolling Stones

“He had an intuitive feeling of where the piano should sit in the mix,” said Keith Richards. “He could do the most incredible stuff. You could’ve sworn Otis Spann was in the room, which, for an English kid in the 1960s, was absolutely amazing. I don’t think Nicky knew how good he was — his instinct for the right note at the right place. I’d have a song, half written, we’re working it up in the studio, and he comes in with a riff that changes the song. This little white kid, he was maybe 18, and he sounded like he was in Mississippi, or Chicago. So authentic.”

His dynamic fills and solos with those three bands attracted the attention of John Lennon, who invited him to play electric piano on The Beatles’ single version of “Revolution,” and Hopkins nailed it in one take. “It’s amazing how he lifted that whole track. He’s a fantastic guy.” Lennon brought him back three years later when he was recording the songs for his iconic “Imagine” album. It’s Hopkins’ piano you hear on the gorgeous ballad “Jealous Guy” as well as the rollicking “Crippled Inside” and “Oh Yoko.”

Hopkins with Lennon, 1971

The other three Beatles shared Lennon’s admiration for Hopkins’ talent. In 1973, Ringo Starr brought him in to augment the recordings of his two #1 hits, “Photograph” and “You’re Sixteen”; George Harrison tapped Hopkins for his #1 hit “Give Me Love” the same year; and much later, Paul McCartney used Hopkins on his 1989 LP “Flowers in the Dirt.”

Hopkins hanging out with Ronnie Wood and Rod Stewart, 1968

Hopkins enjoyed the session work and was honored to be asked to play with so many different acts, but he pined to be able to play on stage, so he joined the Jeff Beck Group for a spell, recording Beck’s groundbreaking debut LP “Truth” with Rod Stewart and Ron Wood, and going on a short tour, but it proved more than his health could handle. When he relocated to the Bay Area of California, where he spent much of the last half of his life, he recorded with the Jefferson Airplane on their “Volunteers” album and the Steve Miller Band for their “Brave New World” and “Your Saving Grace” LPs.

Quicksilver Messenger Service (Hopkins second from right)

He also actually became a member of Quicksilver Messenger Service for a year or so, recording and occasionally performing. He made an appearance with the Airplane on stage at Woodstock in 1969 for their set, but he pretty much resigned himself to session work from then on.

His ambitious first wife Dolly thought he was talented enough to be a star in his own right and pushed him to release two solo LPs — the 1973 disc “The Tin Man Was a Dreamer” includes the astonishing instrumental “Edward” and the equally memorable “Pig’s Boogie” — but Hopkins conceded he wasn’t really cut out for the limelight. His second wife Moira said in the 1990s, “He was a side man, not a front man. He was the wrong person to be living that sort of lifestyle. He wasn’t physically strong enough for it, and it took him to a bad place eventually.”

Partly to help ease the pain of his Crohn’s disease and other ailments, Hopkins grew susceptible to the lure of alcohol and eventually heroin, both in easy reach on the road and in the studios, and they might have killed him back in 1972 if not for jazz pianist Chick Corea. “On the day we met,” Corea recalled, “I asked him, ‘How are you?’ He replied, ‘Not so good. The doctor told me I have two weeks to live unless I quit heroin.’ I told him I was going to get him into rehab, and I probably saved his life at that moment. Nicky didn’t think it would work, but it did.”

After his recovery, Hopkins worked exclusively as a session man, playing on such albums as Carly Simon’s “No Secrets,” Peter Frampton’s “Something’s Happening,” Jennifer Warnes’ debut LP, Jerry Garcia’s “Reflections,” Rod Stewart’s “Foot Loose and Fancy Free,” Art Garfunkel’s “Breakaway,” Joe Cocker’s “I Can Stand a Little Rain,” The Who’s “By Numbers,” Donovan’s “Essence to Essence” and The Stones’ “It’s Only Rock and Roll.”

Benmont Tench, Tom Petty’s keyboard player, said of Hopkins, “I’d always pay close attention whenever I saw his name on the credits. He always brought something beautiful. He had this invaluable ability to realize where to start playing in the song.”

If you watch “The Session Man,” the Nicky Hopkins documentary now streaming on Amazon Prime Video, you’ll hear numerous musicians speaking reverentially about Hopkins’ extraordinary musical abilities.

Regarding the delicate piano part on Cocker’s hit “You Are So Beautiful,” Peter Frampton said, “It gives me goosebumps every time I hear it.”

Mike Hurst, producer on Cat Stevens’ little-known debut LP “Matthew and Son” back in 1967, had this to say about Hopkins: “With most session musicians, they come in, they do their job for three hours, and disappear. Nicky wasn’t like that. He always wanted to do another take if he felt he could make it better…even though his first take was often flawless.”

Chris Welch, writer for England’s Melody Maker music publication, wrote, “If you look at the list of songs he played on, it’s genius, absolutely genius. If you took Nicky out of the mix, the magic disappeared. He played semi-classical parts, gospel parts, blues, boogie-woogie, rock and roll. He could do it all.”

Towards the end of his life, Hopkins worked as a composer and orchestrator of film scores, with considerable success in Japan. Hopkins died in 1994, at the age of 50, in Nashville from complications resulting from intestinal surgery related to his lifelong battle with Crohn’s disease. It wasn’t until 2018 when friends and family members were able to arrange a physical tribute to Hopkins in the form of a “keyboard bench” that sits in a park near his birthplace in Perivale, a London area neighborhood.

Nicky Hopkins’ memorial “keyboard bench” in his home town

Mike Treen, a veteran TV producer who directed “The Session Man,” is a big fan. “For all my years in the business, this is the doc that I’m really proudest of,” he said. “The hard bit for us was finding the distributors, the platforms. They want films about stars, so when I mentioned Nicky Hopkins, they’d go, ‘Well, he’s not a name.’ And I’d say, ‘But that’s the point! He’s got an amazing story to tell that few people have ever heard.’ So that’s why it took us five years.”

I suppose it’s never too late to honor a man’s work, and the tardy induction of Nicky Hopkins into the R&R HOF is certainly an example of that. As you listen to the tracks on the Spotify playlist below, I urge you to pay close attention to the piano. Hopkins was, as soul singer P.P. Arnold put it, “the real deal.”

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We overdosed on pleasure with hidden treasure

Posted on by brucehhackett

It’s time once again to delve deep into some of the classic albums of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s and find those superb “deep tracks” that the radio stations never play.  So many of the albums that topped the charts back then have three, maybe four songs that get all the airplay even though there are some jewels just sitting there, waiting to be rediscovered and savored.

This week’s blog is dedicated to shining a bright light on a dozen neglected tracks from famous, commercially successful albums.  Lost classics come to us in a variety of ways, but I get a charge out of reminding readers how many great songs appeared on those iconic records. There’s a Spotify playlist at the end so you can listen again to these wonderful “diamonds in the rough” among the big albums of the glorious decades of 40, 50, 60 years ago.

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“Listen,” Chicago, 1969

When the band that would be known as Chicago released their debut, the extraordinary “Chicago Transit Authority” in April 1969, they felt they had so much good material that it should be a double album, which takes chutzpah for a new band to claim.  But they were right — not only were there enough worthy tracks to warrant a double LP, their sound was a revelation, a shrewd merger of rock and big band, with fiery guitar solos, exuberant trumpet/trombone/sax passages, and three vocalists each capable of leading the way through instantly likable hit songs like “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is,” “Questions 67 and 68” and “Beginnings.”  But like most albums chock full of hits, there are excellent tracks that never got the attention they deserved.  On “CTA,” I nominate “Listen,” the shortest song on the album, led by Robert Lamm’s great vocals, a strong bass line from Peter Cetera and the ever-present horn section.

“Kings,” Steely Dan, 1972

If you look back over the debut albums of the major artists of the ’60s and ’70s, most were erratic at best; rare indeed was the group that hit a home run in its first at-bat.  “Can’t Buy a Thrill,” the first LP from the wickedly musical minds of Steely Dan founders Donald Fagen and Walter Becker, is definitely one of them.  It was hard not to notice the relentless salsa of “Do It Again” (#6) and the solid rocker “Reelin’ in the Years” (#11) in the winter and spring of 1973, but those who bought the album were treated to eight more songs just as good as those two.  My personal favorite is “Kings,” with its vibrant harmonies, frenetic guitar break by visiting virtuoso Elliot Randall and lyrics that may be referring to the imminent departure of Richard Nixon (“We’ve seen the last of good king Richard, raise up your glass, his name lives on and on…”)

“Just a Job to Do,” Genesis, 1983

Genesis was rock’s premier theatrical attraction in 1969-1975 for those favoring British progressive rock thanks in large part to the amazing Peter Gabriel as their vocalist/showman. After Gabriel went solo, the remaining members of Genesis — drummer/vocalist Phil Collins, keyboardist Tony Banks, guitarist Mike Rutherford — soldiered on, ultimately became a hugely successful commercial act, with multiple hit singles in the ’80s.  Their 1983 album “Genesis” had hits like “Mama” and “That’s All,” but the highlight for me from this LP was this in-your-face track about the reluctant hit man, “Just a Job to Do” (“…and bang! bang! bang! and down you go…”), which has a relentless beat and an irresistible arrangement that just won’t quit.  Genesis was certainly two different bands, with and without Gabriel, but the second version surely had its moments.

“Peace Frog,” The Doors, 1970

I love the Doors, and inhaled their first two albums especially, and their swan song, “LA Woman,” but somehow never caught on to the “Soft Parade”/”Morrison Hotel” period, except for the singles (“Touch Me” and “Roadhouse Blues,” respectively). Buried deep on the 1970 “Morrison Hotel” album is a great little track called “Peace Frog,” which I stumbled across fairly recently. It’s got a funky, Stax-style hypnotic hook over which Jim Morrison forcefully sings about the violence in the streets at the 1968 Democratic Convention. Coincidentally, I’ve heard the song used in TV show soundtracks a couple times in the past year, which proves how classic tracks have staying power and can resurface when and where you least expect them.

“I Give You Give Blind,” Crosby Stills and Nash, 1977

CSNY had always been a volatile mix.  David Crosby, Steve Stills, and Graham Nash had already brought an excess of talent and ego to the party when they first formed in 1969, so when they added the moody and enigmatic Neil Young to the mix, the result was a predictable implosion, and they soon went their own ways.  So, what a delight when, in 1977, the original trio reconvened with the superb “CSN,” which included Nash’s hit “Just a Song Before I Go” and the haunting “Cathedral,” and Crosby’s “Shadow Captain” and “In My Dreams,” and Stills’ “Fair Game” and “Dark Star.”  All great songs — in fact, there’s not a dud on the album — but the one I find most spellbinding is the Stills closer, “I Give You Give Blind,” which includes not only the trademark CSN three-part harmonies but a fiery, full-band attack not often heard on a CSN recording, a sound sparked by Stills’ guitar work.  Fantastic.

“Been Too Long on the Road,” Bread, 1970

In my view, Bread has always gotten an unfair rap as a purveyor of saccharine soft rock ballads. Granted, most of their hit singles fit that mold (“Make It With You,” “It Don’t Matter to Me,” “If,” “Baby I’m-a Want You, “Diary”), but every Bread album included album tracks with tasty guitar licks and a rock backbeat.  Witness the minor hits “Mother Freedom” and “The Guitar Man.”  Hidden deep on their 1970 album “On the Waters” was a delicious little song called “Been Too Long on the Road,” which had a catchy melody and mature lyrics about how touring can kill a relationship.  Dismiss Bread at your own peril — tunes like this one show the band is worthy of your attention. This one’s a keeper.

“Telegraph Road,” Dire Straits, 1982

Mark Knopfler, one of the great guitar players of my lifetime, is known mostly for his Dire Straits debut single “Sultans of Swing” and the 1985 MTV hit “Money for Nothing,” but his output is so much broader and deeper than those two monster hits.  Since the group’s breakup in 1994, he has released a dozen amazing records full of tasty guitar passages and Celtic folk material I could recommend, but let’s just examine the superb stuff from the Dire Straits studio albums:  “Down to the Waterline,” “Lady Writer,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Skateaway,” “Your Latest Trick,” “Brothers in Arms,” “Calling Elvis,” “Planet of New Orleans,” to name only a few.  The one that stands out most for me is “Telegraph Road,” a 15-minute masterpiece from their 1982 album, “Love Over Gold.”  It starts quietly, builds for a while, gets quiet again, and then hits a point just past halfway through where it goes into a relentless crescendo that leaves your jaw scraping the floor once it finally fades out.

“Do What You Want, Be What You Are,” Hall and Oates, 1976

For my money, Daryl Hall and John Oates never topped the incredible blue-eyed soul classic “She’s Gone,” released in 1973 on the duo’s overlooked second album, “Abandoned Luncheonette.”  Of course, they went on to become the most successful pop duo of all time in the late ’70s/early ’80s with “Sara Smile,” “Rich Girl,” “Private Eyes,” “I Can’t Go For That,” “Maneater” and many more.  Buried on their 1976 LP “Bigger Than Most of Us” is a super sexy slow song called “Do What You Want, Be What You Are,” with thought-provoking lyrics: “It ain’t a sign of weakness, girl, to give yourself away, because the strong give up and move on while the weak, the weak give up and stay, /So do what you want to do, but be what you are…” Hall hits a couple of high notes no man should be able to reach.  This beautifully produced track is music to undress to.

“Let It Roll,” George Harrison, 1970

The triple album “All Things Must Pass” got a lot of attention, largely because the quiet ex-Beatle had substantially eclipsed his compatriots’ first solo albums, and because his hit single, “My Sweet Lord,” was simply effervescent.  Clearly, he’d been sitting on a stockpile of great songs while waiting for the chance to come out from underneath the shadow of the Lennon-McCartney songwriting axis to shine in his own way.  The album was chock full of great songs, including hits like “What Is Life” and “Awaiting On You All,” but to me, the unsung hero on the album is “Let It Roll (The Ballad of Sir Frankie Crisp”), which would have fit quite nicely among the tracks on the celebrated Beatles’ “White Album” two years earlier, when it was written.

“Punky’s Dilemma,” Simon and Garfunkel, 1968

Director Mike Nichols was enamored with the work of Simon and Garfunkel and wanted Simon to write songs for his coming-of-age film “The Graduate” in 1967.  Simon obliged with 3-4 songs, but Nichols rejected them, instead preferring to use “The Sounds of Silence,” “Scarborough Fair” and other existing songs from the S&G catalog in the background of his film.  Left on the side of the road were understated songs like “Overs” (about a marriage that had reached its end) and the winsome track “Punky’s Dilemma,” about a young man who wants to be anything (even a Kellogg’s corn flake or an English muffin) instead of a draftable college graduate in the late ’60s.  Both would have fit nicely in the film’s themes of angst and soul searching. The songs ended up on the duo’s 1968 album “Bookends,” hidden alongside “Mrs. Robinson,” “America,” “Hazy Shade of Winter” and “Fakin’ It.”

“Murder By Numbers,” The Police, 1983

During their five-album run from 1978 to 1983, The Police just kept getting better and better, starting with “Roxanne” and “Message in a Bottle” and improving with “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” and “Every Little Things She Does is Magic.”  The trio of drummer Stewart Copeland, guitarist Andy Summers and bassist/singer/songwriter Sting were at their best, I think, with their #1 album (and swan song) “Synchronicity” in 1983. In addition to the international smash “Every Breath You Take” and additional hits like “King of Pain,” “Wrapped Around Your Finger” and “Synchronicity II,” the album includes several other gems. Left off the vinyl version but included as a bonus track on the CD was the sleeper classic “Murder By Numbers,” a creepy but compelling track about a serial killer.

“Rock and Roll Suicide,” David Bowie, 1972

The enigmatic “chameleon of rock” was still relatively unknown in the US in 1972 when he made an indelible impression as the androgynous stage persona called Ziggy Stardust, an orange-haired rocker from another planet who came to save the world. Bowie went on to adopt other personas over the decades, some commercially successful, others defiantly not, but he will always be known most for “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars,” one of the most astounding records in rock history.  “Suffragette City,” “Moonage Daydream” and “Starman” got most of the airplay, but the incredible finale, “Rock and Roll Suicide” (“YOU’RE NOT ALONE!  GIMME YOUR HANDS!”), leaves the listener gasping for breath when it ends with emphatic violins.

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