Long-lost songs I’m so grateful to discover

I admit it. I’m obsessed with the music of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s.

In addition to the successful songs on the albums from those three decades, there were also many hundreds, even thousands, of deep tracks buried there, just waiting to be unearthed and discovered (or re-discovered) today in 2024. I call them “lost classics,” although some are probably too obscure to qualify as classic. They’re just GREAT SONGS I firmly believe are worthy of your attention.

I’ve posted nearly 500 of these gems, a dozen at a time, in more than 40 different blog entries since I first started “Hack’s Back Pages” in 2015. This current batch (#42 if you’re counting) is comprised of infectious uptempo tunes that just might have you boppin’ around your living room before the day is through. That’s the goal, anyway…

Oh yes: I have a heads-up to all my readers. I keep a list of songs I come across that are potential candidates to make one of my “lost classics” playlists…but I’m always looking for suggestions. If you’ve got a favorite deep track that’s been forgotten or never discovered by most people, by all means, let me know. I’m eager to hear it and put it on the list of possibilities!

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“Let It Roll,” Little Feat, 1988

One of the most underrated bands of the 1970s despite a fiercely loyal following, Little Feat was led by guitarist/songwriter Lowell George until his death in 1979, after which the group disbanded, but band members Bill Payne, Paul Barrère, Kenny Gradney and Richie Heyward continued to occasionally perform together and separately under different names. In 1988, they joined forces with singer-songwriter Craig Fuller, former founder of Pure Prairie League, and resurrected the Little Feat brand with a superb comeback LP, “Let It Roll.” I saw them tour behind Don Henley that year, turning in a fine performance, and the rollicking title track was a definite standout.

“City to City,” Gerry Rafferty, 1978

Regular readers here will know I am a big Rafferty fan, from his early work with Stealers Wheel (“Stuck in the Middle With You”) to his largely ignored later work. Most impressive in his catalog is his 1978 #1 LP “City to City,” which included his two biggest hits, “Baker Street” and “Right Down the Line,” and a lesser single, “Home and Dry.” The Scot’s husky-smooth voice and memorable melodies have appealed to me ever since, although he had an aversion to performing live, which hurt his commercial momentum. The title song “City to City” sounds like it might be about touring, but the lyrics are instead about riding the rails, as the “goodnight train is gonna carry me home.” The music, too, chugs along like a locomotive.

“High on Emotion,” Chris DeBurgh, 1984

British-Irish singer/songwriter DeBurgh started out in the ’70s in the art-rock genre but moved to a more commercial pop style in the ’80s, finally making inroads on both the UK and US charts in the process. The ambitious “Don’t Pay the Ferryman” crashed the Top 40 here in 1982, and by 1986, he scored a #3 hit in the US with “The Lady in Red,” which went on to be an international #1 and used in multiple film soundtracks. In between those two commercial successes, he released the appealing “Man on the Line” LP in 1984, which included great tracks like “Moonlight and Vodka” and “Much More Than This.” He just missed the Top 40 with the album’s catchy single, “High on Emotion.”

“Outskirts,” Bob Welch, 1977

Welch had been lead guitarist and singer/songwriter for Fleetwood Mac in the 1971-1974 period, keeping the band afloat between the Peter Green years and the Buckingham/Nicks multiplatinum years. Welch left to form the hard rock power trio Paris, who produced two middling albums before disbanding in 1976. The songs Welch was writing for a third Paris LP instead became his solo debut, “French Kiss,” which reached an impressive #12 on US album charts in 1977, thanks to three hit singles (“Ebony Eyes,” “Hot Love, Cold World” and a remake of his Fleetwood Mac song “Sentimental Lady”). There are other tracks here that you should know more about, including “Outskirts.”

“SWLABR,” Cream, 1967

Most of the original songs on Cream’s albums were written by bassist/vocalist Jack Bruce, with lyrics by performance poet Pete Brown, who was known for his cryptic, drug-fueled images and wordplay. “Sunshine Of Your Love,” “White Room” and “Politician” offer intriguing examples of their work, but one of the more unusual Bruce/Brown collaborations was entitled “SWLABR,” a track from their “Disraeli Gears” LP in 1967. The title is an acronym for “She Was Like A Bearded Rainbow,” and Brown said the song is about a scorned ex-girlfriend who was so jealous of his new lover that she defaced photos of her by adding a beard and moustache to them.

“Cynical Girl,” Marshall Crenshaw, 1982

With roots in classic soul and Buddy Holly rockabilly, Crenshaw emerged from Detroit in the late ’70s when he was selected to portray John Lennon in the musical “Beatlemania” on Broadway and then in a national touring company. When he made his solo debut with the “Marshall Crenshaw” album in 1982, he earned radio exposure with the irresistibly catchy “Someday, Someway.” His songs combined new wave with jangly pop that, to my ears, should’ve brought him far more commercial success than he ended up getting. “Cynical Girl,” another earworm from the first LP, inexplicably failed to make the charts as its second single. He had five albums in the ’80s that are all worth exploring.

“Everything’s Coming Our Way,” Santana, 1971

The hot new sensation of the lineup at Woodstock in 1969, Santana went on to chart at #4 for their debut LP, followed by “Abraxas” (1970), which topped the charts. For their “Santana III” album, which also peaked at #1, they continued their string of Top 40 hits as well, following “Black Magic Woman” and “One Como Va” with “Everybody’s Everything” and “No One To Depend On.” Buried near the end of Side Two was “Everything’s Coming Our Way,” one of very few Santana tracks credited to guitarist/leader Carlos Santana, and it’s a favorite of mine. The group would then shift gears in 1972 with personnel changes and a new jazz-fusion direction for a few years.

“Right Now,” Stephen Stills & Manassas, 1972

Nicknamed “Captain Manyhands” for his multiple talents as a songwriter, producer, instrumentalist and singer, Stills earned his reputation as a studio control freak during the recording of the 1972 double album by his band Manassas. The 20 songs, all written or co-written by Stills, showcased the superb musicianship of the players (Chris Hillman, Al Perkins, Joe Lala, Paul Harris, Dallas Taylor and Fuzzy Samuels) as they finessed their way through rock, country, bluegrass, Latino and blues styles. A highlight is the rock groove found on “Right Now,” with lyrics that examine his difficult relationship with Rita Coolidge, who’d been swept away by ex-bandmate Graham Nash.

“Pretty On the Inside,” Swimming Pool Qs, 1986

From the same Athens, Georgia scene that brought us The B-52s and R.E.M. came this lesser-known band, categorized as “new wave/jangle pop.” Led by the songwriting team of multi-instrumentalist Jeff Calder and guitarist Bob Elsey and the singing of Anne Richmond Boston, The Swimming Pool Qs scored a modest hit with “Rat Bait” in 1979, which earned them slots warming up tours for Devo and The Police. They struggled on for the next decade with personnel changes and new record labels, never really making much of a dent in the charts, but in 1986, I was exposed to their “Blue Tomorrow” album, which included the compelling tune “Pretty On the Inside.”

“Waning Moon,” Peter Himmelman, 1987

Minnesota-born Himmelman is a guitarist-singer-songwriter best known for his work creating scores for such TV shows as “Bones,” “Judging Amy” and “Men in Trees” and movies like “Pyrates,” “Ash Tuesday” and “A Slipped-Down Life” in the 1990s and 2000s. He also created a well-regarded series of children’s albums designed to help kids suffering medical stress. Prior to that, he was in the indie band Sussman Lawrence in the 1980s and had a modestly successful solo career, gaining radio exposure for rock songs like “The Woman With the Strength of 10,000 Men” and especially “Waning Moon” from his 1987 LP “Gematria.” I learned about Himmelman when he warmed up for Dave Mason at a show that year.

“Sneakin’ Sally Thru the Alley,” Robert Palmer, 1974

Widely known for 1980s hits like “Addicted to Love,” “I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On” and “Simply Irresistible,” stylish British singer Palmer got his start in 1974 with his underrated debut LP “Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley,” which established his penchant for combining genres like soul, funk, rock, reggae and blues. Much of the album was recorded in New Orleans with R&B funk band The Meters, who were leery at first of Palmer’s British roots until he started singing. Legendary New Orleans musician/producer Allen Toussaint wrote the infectious title track, which features an indelible bass line by George Porter Jr. and keyboards by Art Neville.

“Call Me, Tell Me,” Pure Prairie League, 1972

This popular country rock band was founded in 1970 in Ohio, with singer-songwriter-guitarists Craig Fuller and George Ed Powell leading the charge. Personnel changes between their first and second albums in 1972 hurt what little momentum they had, but Fuller’s iconic tune “Amie” picked up steam on college radio and finally became a hit in the spring of 1975. Meanwhile, the album it came from, “Bustin’ Out,” was one of the great unsung country rock albums of the ’70s, with songs like “Early Morning Riser,” “Falling In and Out of Love” and “Boulder Skies.” I’m partial to the album closer, “Call Me, Tell Me,” which features a spirited strings arrangement by (of all people) David Bowie’s then-guitarist, Mick Ronson.

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I’d trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday

The popular music world is populated by many musicians who were brought up in musical households with parents who encouraged their interest in artistic expression.

But there are also hundreds of songwriters and musical artists whose parents had other plans for their children and strongly discouraged or even forbade them from pursuing a life in the musical arts.

If Kris Kristofferson‘s parents had had their way, we would have never experienced the pleasure of hearing his wondrous songs or viewing his compelling film performances.

Kristofferson’s father Lars was a major general in the US Air Force, and he wanted his son to follow his footsteps into a lifelong career in the military. For a while, it looked like that might happen when, at age 24, Kristofferson accepted a commission as a lieutenant in the Army and became a helicopter pilot, eventually reaching the rank of captain in 1965. Also a gifted writer, Kristofferson was slated to teach English at West Point, but he declined and instead traded that life to pursue his dream to become a country songwriter in Nashville. His parents were scandalized and disowned him for a while.

“Not many cats I knew bailed out like I did,” Mr. Kristofferson said in a 1970 interview. “When I made the break, I didn’t realize how much I was shocking my folks, because I always thought they knew I was going to be a writer. But I think they thought a writer was a guy in tweeds with a pipe. So I quit and didn’t hear from them for a while. I sure wouldn’t want to go through it again, but it’s part of who I am.”

Kristofferson, who died September 28 at age 88, didn’t experience a seamless transition from military man to songwriter, but he had the innate talent and a lot of perseverance. He had graduated with honors with a degree in literature from Pomona College, and had prizewinning entries in a collegiate short-story contest sponsored by The Atlantic magazine before being awarded a Rhodes scholarship to study English literature at Oxford.

All that formal training didn’t translate at first in the world of country music. His early songs read like classic poetry with perfect grammar, and he had to learn to adapt, using more conversational vocabulary with vernacular terms and real-life experiences. During his time as a janitor at Columbia Records, he absorbed a lot by sneaking into the recording sessions of major artists like Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash. “I had to get better,” Kristofferson said. “I was spending every second I could hanging out and writing and bouncing off the heads of other writers.”

He developed, as a New York Times writer put it, “a keen melodic sensibility and a languid expressiveness that bore little resemblance to the straightforward Hank Williams-derived shuffles he was turning out when he first arrived in Nashville.” He continued evolving over the next few years until he garnered the attention of publishers and artists in town who were impressed with songs like “Sunday Morning Comin’ Down,” perhaps the most poignant hangover song ever written: “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 more for dessert…”

His diligence paid off. Between 1970 and 1972, the name Kristofferson seemed to be everywhere. Singer Ray Price took his ballad “For the Good Times” to #1 on the country charts and #11 on the Top 40 pop charts, and soul legend Al Green made it a staple of his shows after recording his own version. Cash registered a Country #1 with “Sunday Morning Comin’ Down” a couple months later.

Most significantly, his iconic composition “Me and Bobby McGee” (first recorded by Roger Miller in 1969 and Gordon Lightfoot in 1970) became an international #1 hit when Janis Joplin’s recording of it was released posthumously in 1971. Years later, Kristofferson said, “I remember one of my songwriter friends said, ‘You’ve got such a good song going on there. Why do you have to put that philosophy in there?’ He was referring to the line ‘Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.’ It turned out to be one of the most memorable lines I ever wrote. So you’d best take your friends’ advice with a grain of salt.”

Concurrently, Kristofferson’s song “Help Me Make It Through the Night” topped country charts and reached #8 on pop charts with singer Sammi Smith’s delicate rendition, which won a Country Song of the Year Grammy for the songwriter.

Kristofferson’s second LP (1971)

All four of these songs appeared on “Kristofferson,” the songwriter’s own recording debut in 1970, but his gruff, uncultured singing voice wasn’t exactly embraced by critics or the public (one writer described it as “pitch-indifferent”). Kristofferson often knocked his own voice. “I don’t think I’m that good a singer,” he said in a 2016 interview. “I can’t think of a song that I’ve written that I don’t like the way somebody else sings it better.” Indeed, although he released more than 15 albums of his own, five of which charted reasonably well on country and pop charts, he had only one successful single, the country gospel tune “Why Me,” which peaked at #16 in 1973.

It turned out to be a fortuitous time to be a songwriter in Nashville, where Kristofferson found himself huddling with with like-minded writers such as Willie Nelson and Roger Miller. “We took it seriously enough to think that our work was important, to think that what we were creating would mean something in the big picture,” he said in a 2006 interview. “Looking back on it, I feel like it was kind of our Paris in the ’20s — real creative and real exciting, and intense.”

Kyle Young, the CEO of the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, had this to say this past week: “Kris Kristofferson believed to his core that creativity is God-given, and that those who ignore or deflect such a holy gift are doomed to failure and unhappiness. He preached that a life of the mind gives voice to the soul, and then he created a body of work that gave voice not only to his soul but to ours. Kris’s heroes included the prize fighter Muhammad Ali, the great poet William Blake, and the ‘Hillbilly Shakespeare,’ Hank Williams. He lived his life in a way that honored and exemplified the values of each of those men, and he leaves a righteous, courageous and resounding legacy that rings with theirs.”

Author Bill Malone noted in “Country Music, U.S.A.,” the standard history of the genre, “Kristofferson’s lyrics spoke often of loneliness, alienation and pain, but they also celebrated freedom and honest relationships, and in intimate, sensuous language that had been rare to country music.”

I wholeheartedly agree. Consider these lines from his 1974 song “Shandy (The Perfect Disguise)”: “‘Cause nightmares are somebody’s daydreams, /Daydreams are somebody’s lies, /Lies ain’t no harder than telling the truth, /Truth is the perfect disguise…”

He could also be quite provocative, as in these lyrics from the title tune from his 1972 LP: “Jesus was a Capricorn, he ate organic food, /He believed in love and peace and never wore no shoes, /Long hair, beard and sandals, and a funky bunch of friends, I reckon we’d just nail him up if he came down again…”

Coolidge and Kristofferson at home in Malibu in 1974

In 1971, he developed a personal and professional relationship with singer Rita Coolidge, marrying her and recording a handful of albums with her (“Full Moon” in 1973, “Breakaway” in 1974 and “Natural Act” in 1978) that reached the Top 20 on country charts. The couple won two Grammys (Best Country Vocal Performance by a Duo) for “From the Bottle to the Bottom” in 1973 and “Lover Please” in 1975. They would divorce in 1980 but remained friends and occasionally performed together.

Said Coolidge last week, “Kris was a wonderful man and an extraordinary songwriter. He’s been a close friend of mine and the father of my daughter. We had a volatile marriage, but I have nothing but glowing things to say about him today.” In her 2016 autobiography, “Delta Lady,” she bemoaned his drinking, his verbal abuse and his infidelities, but concluded, “Everything we did was larger than life. I never laughed with anybody in my life like I did with Kris. When it was good, I was over-the-moon happy, but when it was sad, it was almost too much to bear.”

Kristofferson’s acting career took off in 1973 when Sam Peckinpaugh cast him as outlaw Billy the Kid in “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid,” in which Coolidge also appeared. Martin Scorsese concurred that Kristofferson’s rugged good looks and magnetism lent themselves to the big screen, and cast him as the male lead alongside Ellen Burstyn in the critically acclaimed 1974 drama “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.”

When Barbra Streisand was unable to secure Elvis Presley as her co-star in the 1976 remake of “A Star is Born,” her next choice was Kristofferson, who won a Golden Globe for his turn as John Norman Howard, a singer on the downside of his career who ends up killing himself in a drunk-driving incident. Kristofferson, who had described himself as “a functioning alcoholic,” said he was so disturbed by the scene where Streisand’s character tends to his dead body, he quit drinking in real life. “I remember feeling that that could very easily be my wife and kids crying over me,” he said in the 1980s. “I quit drinking over that. I didn’t want to die before my daughter grew up.”

He followed that experience with “Semi-Tough,” the sports comedy film opposite Burt Reynolds and Jill Clayburgh, but his movie career suffered in 1980 when he starred in Michael Cimino’s epic Western, “Heaven’s Gate,” one of the biggest box-office disasters in Hollywood history. Kristofferson fared reasonably well in the reviews, but the movie itself was so mercilessly panned that anyone involved with it found themselves unhirable for years to come. It would be another 15 years before he regained his footing in John Sayles’ Oscar-nominated “Lone Star.”

Kristofferson in “Heaven’s Gate” in 1980

He attracted a new generation of fans for his portrayal of mentor/father figure Abraham Whistler in Marvel’s first successful film, “Blade,” and its two sequels. Indeed, many superhero movie fans of the late 1990s and early 2000s had no idea that Kristofferson had another career as a singer-songwriter, which he found rather amusing. “I was doing a show in Sweden, and somebody backstage mentioned to me, ‘Hey Kris, there are all these kids out there saying, ‘Geez, Whistler sings?'”

When he experienced a dry spell in both acting and songwriting in the early ’80s, he found solace in his friends in the music business. Kristofferson teamed up with Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson and Cash to record “Highwayman,” Jimmy Webb’s marvelous song about a soul with four incarnations in different places in time and history. It became a multiplatinum hit that inspired a full album by the foursome, who came to be known as The Highwaymen. They capitalized on the favorable commercial and critical response by recording more albums and touring multiple times over the next decade. Kristofferson later marvelled, “I always looked up to all of those legends, and I felt like I was kind of a kid who had climbed up on Mount Rushmore and stuck his face out there!”

He often talked about how grateful he is to the established songwriters and singers in Nashville who took him under their wing when he was new to town. In comparison, he noted, “Those shows like ‘American Idol’ are kind of scary to me. They wanted me to be on one of those panels one time, and I said it’s the last thing in the world I’d ever want to do. I would hate to have to discourage somebody.”

Cash and Kristofferson on TV in 1977

His legacy as a songwriter is cemented by the number and diversity of artists who have admired his material enough to record it. In addition to Johnny Cash, Janis Joplin, Ray Price, Rita Coolidge, Roger Miller, Gordon Lightfoot, Sammi Smith and Al Green, you can hear strong covers of Kristofferson songs by The Grateful Dead, Frank Sinatra, Willie Nelson, Gladys Knight and The Pips, Elvis Presley, Dolly Parton, Wilson Pickett, Charley Pride, Olivia Newton-John, Ronnie Milsap, Tina Turner, Glen Campbell, Bryan Adams, Joan Baez, Jerry Lee Lewis, Emmylou Harris, Michael Bublé and Thelma Houston.

Streisand said recently, “At a concert in 2019 at London’s Hyde Park, I asked Kris to join me on stage to sing our other ‘A Star Is Born’ duet, ‘Lost Inside Of You.’ He was as charming as ever, and the audience showered him with applause. It was a joy seeing him receive the recognition and love he so richly deserved.”

Kristofferson was married to his third wife, Lisa, for more than 40 years, from 1983 until his death. He had a total of eight children from his three marriages, and seven grandchildren. When asked about his family in 2016, he said, “When I was thirty, and a long time after that, I felt like I had to leave home to do what I had to do. Now, it’s just the opposite.”

Kristofferson in 2017

Bypass surgery in 1999 slowed Kristofferson down, as did an extended bout with Lyme disease in the decade that followed, but he remained active into his 80s. On his final album of new material, 2013’s “Feeling Mortal,” the title song sums up Kristofferson’s feelings near the end of his life: “Here today and gone tomorrow, that’s the way it’s got to be, /God Almighty, here I am, /Am I where I ought to be? /I’ve begun to soon descend like the sun into the sea…”

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