Songs to see you through the end of summer

As summer winds down, I’m feeling a little wistful, a little relaxed, and my deep dive into “lost classics” of the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s is consequently leaning toward the mellower choices this time around.

The rockers among my readers may fail to recognize some of these selections, or even the artists who recorded them. But that’s the fun of lost classics — even though they were recorded 50+ years ago, sometimes they’re brand-new songs to you because they came in under your radar at the time.

I hope you find these tunes to your liking.

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“Tell Me What You Want,” The Doobie Brothers, 1974

I think it’s safe to say that every album The Doobies released has at least one “lost classic” — a deep track that got little airplay but is still well worth our time and attention.  The band’s fourth LP, “What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits,” will forever be known for its first #1 hit, “Black Water,” and the minor single “Eyes of Silver,” but there are about a half-dozen other strong tunes to explore.  I’ve always enjoyed Pat Simmons’ engaging, mostly acoustic “Tell Me What You Want,” featuring the sweet pedal-steel work of Jeff “Skunk” Baxter in the outro.  Baxter was then still a full-time member of Steely Dan, but as that group evolved into a duo with multiple guest musicians, he would soon make the jump to join The Doobies’ lineup.

“You’re Only Lonely,” J.D. Souther, 1979

If the lush harmonies you hear throughout this soothing track sound like those of The Eagles, that’s because the voices belong to Glenn Frey, Don Henley and Don Felder, plus Jackson Browne and Phil Everly for good measure.  These gents were happy to help their friend John David Souther on his 1979 solo LP because he was an honorary Eagle, having co-written such hits as “Best of My Love,” “New Kid in Town” and “Heartache Tonight.”  (He also co-wrote and co-sang “Her Town Too” with James Taylor in 1981.)  “You’re Only Lonely” — a tribute of sorts to Roy Orbison’s 1960 classic, “Only the Lonely” — reached an impressive #7 on the US pop chart at a time when disco and New Wave were dominant.

“Still Believe,” Michael Tomlinson, 1987

Tomlinson came up out of the Austin, Texas, music scene in the mid-’80s, offering a pleasing acoustic style that caught the attention of certain radio program directors, particularly “relaxing radio” like The Wave. That’s where my friend Mark first heard Tomlinson’s song “All is Clear,” prompting him to buy his 1989 LP, “Face Up in the Rain,” and also his earlier album, “Still Believe.” I borrowed these records and enjoyed several standout tracks, most notably the positivism behind the lyrics of “Still Believe.” Tomlinson grew frustrated with record labels and corporate takeovers of radio stations and chose to withdraw from the business, but he later established his own private label and continues to write and record new music.

“It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way,” Jim Croce, 1973

Croce’s story is such a sad one, ending prematurely in a plane crash just as his years of hard work were beginning to pay off.  After two hits in 1972 (“You Don’t Mess Around With Jim” and “Operator”) and a #1 hit in the summer of 1973 (“Bad, Bad Leroy Brown”), he was poised to join the top ranks of singer songwriters with his album and title song (“I Got a Name”) until fate intervened.  Several posthumous singles were released — “Time in a Bottle” (another #1), the #9 hit “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song” and, one of my favorites in his catalog, the poignant “It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way,” with Christmas-flavored lyrics and even the use of handbells.

“The Euphrates,” Seals and Crofts, 1972

I remember being so knocked out by this duo’s first hit, “Summer Breeze,” that I pretty much ran to the record store to pick up the album of the same title.  I found a delightful collection of melodic songs brimming over with spiritual lyrics espousing a life of selflessness and optimism.  The voices of Jim Seals and Dash Crofts, the instruments (guitars and mandolin, mostly) and professional production give these tracks a majestic sweep.  Buried on side two is a real sleeper called “The Euphrates,” which references the historic river running from Turkey through Syria and Iraq into the area formerly known as Mesopotamia:  “The deep, deep river.  The wide, wide river.  The long, long river.  Spiritual river.  The river of life…”

“Dreidel,” Don McLean, 1972

“American Pie” is so imbedded in the arc of popular culture that, sadly, it has overshadowed everything else McLean ever recorded.  He is a gifted songwriter who has composed some thoughtful pieces over the years that are worthy of our attention.  “Vincent,” his tribute to Van Gogh, was a fairly sizable hit on its own, but other McLean material has been overlooked.  I love the changes in tempo and instrumentation that mark the arrangement of “Dreidel,” a modest #21 hit in early 1973 based on the four-sided spinning top Jewish children play with while observing Hanukkah.  For him, a dreidel symbolizes life itself:  “Round and around the world you go, spinning through the lives of the people you know, we all slow down…”

“Time to Space,” Loggins and Messina, 1974

This duo happened more or less by accident when Jim Messina, a staff producer at Columbia and alumnus of the country rock band Poco, was tasked with shepherding newcomer Kenny Loggins through the production of his debut album.  It became instead “Kenny Loggins With Jim Messina Sittin’ In,” the first of six studio albums (plus two live LPs) by the duo in the 1970s.  For my money, 1974’s “Mother Lode” is their best stuff, with nary a weak moment on the album.  The track that has never ceased to captivate me is “Time to Space,” which begins and ends as a beautiful ballad, interrupted halfway through with an exhilarating uptempo section featuring flute/sax man Jon Clarke.  Wow!

“Written in Sand,” Santana, 1985

Emerging from San Francisco at the end of the ’60s, Santana went through many personnel changes over the years, but always with guitar virtuoso Carlos Santana at the helm. The group’s LPs routinely made it to the Top 20 on the US album charts, including two #1s in the early ’70s. The use of congas and vigorous percussion remained a mainstay element of Santana’s oeuvre, but by the 1980s, synthesizers and drum machines began creeping into the mix, which alienated some longtime fans. The 1985 LP “Beyond Appearances” was their first to fail to crack the Top 50, but it had a minor hit, “Say It Again,” featuring vocalist Alex Ligertwood, who also sang on the LP’s best track, the luxurious “Written in Sand.”

“Ship of Fools,” Robert Plant, 1988

In the wake of Led Zeppelin’s demise, many observers assumed we’d hear much more from Jimmy Page, but it was Robert Plant who emerged with the most active solo career, scoring four consecutive Top 20 LPs in the 1980s. His fourth, “Now and Zen,” was probably his most consistently satisfying, with the killer opening song, “Heaven Knows,” “Helen of Troy” and the intriguing “Tall Cool One,” in which Plant made liberal use of samples from a half-dozen Led Zep tracks. I’m also partial to “Ship of Fools,” a wonderfully moody piece that shows off Plant’s vocal shading in the same way we heard on “I’m in the Mood” from his 1983 LP, “The Principle of Moments.”

“The Right Moment,” Gerry Rafferty, 1982

Following his rocky beginning as half of Stealer’s Wheel, with whom he recorded the 1973 hit “Stuck in the Middle With You,” Rafferty finally resolved legal differences and made a huge splash with his first solo LP, “City to City,” which included the #1 hit “Baker Street” and “Right Down the Line.” Two more albums in the same vein followed, but by 1982, people had stopped paying attention, due in part to Rafferty’s aversion to touring. His “Sleepwalking” album that year failed to chart in the US, but I found three strong songs on it: “Standing at the Gate,” “Cat and Mouse” and the gentle yet forceful “The Right Moment,” carried by Rafferty’s rich vocals and the marvelous keyboard work of Dire Straits’ Alan Clark.

“Bitter Creek,” The Eagles, 1973

With strong personalities like Don Henley and Glenn Frey around, it was inevitable that the other two founding members of The Eagles would eventually feel marginalized enough to become disillusioned and leave the nest.  Bernie Leadon, whose country/bluegrass roots had brought him to the group by way of The Flying Burrito Brothers, was probably the group’s most talented player, and a fine vocalist and songwriter as well.  He co-wrote three tracks on “Eagles” and then penned two of the best songs on “Desperado” by himself.  In particular, Leadon’s “Bitter Creek” remains the most neglected song in The Eagles’ repertoire, with lyrics that warn of desert dangers while tying into the outlaw cowboy theme of the “Desperado” LP.

“Who Knows Where the Time Goes,” Judy Collins, 1968

A stalwart of the thriving folk music scene in Greenwich Village in the early ’60s, Collins at first limited her repertoire to traditional material and the works of Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. By 1966, she began branching out, attempting covers of nascent songwriters like Joni Mitchell, Gordon Lightfoot, Leonard Cohen and Randy Newman, eventually scoring a Top Ten hit with Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.” In 1968, she enlisted the help of fine musicians like Stephen Stills, James Burton and pedal steel guitarist Buddy Emmons to beef up the arrangements for her countryish hit, “Someday Soon,” and the moving song written by Fairport Convention’s Sandy Denny, “Who Knows Where the Time Goes.”

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R.I.P. to a Motown tunesmith and a pop icon

The talented musicians, songwriters and entertainers who dominated the charts in the ’60s, ’70s and into the ’80s have been passing away with disconcerting regularity lately. Not surprisingly, some of them were important and influential to me, responsible for songs and/or albums that rank high among my musical preferences. Others, while wildly popular among many listeners, were never really my cup of tea. Such is the case with two notable deaths this week, both of whom I feel are worthy of a detailed look back.

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Because they work their magic behind the scenes instead of on stage, songwriters are often not widely known by name. That’s probably the case with Lamont Dozier, who died August 8th at age 81.

Dozier is partly responsible for many of the biggest hits to come from the legendary R&B artists at Motown Records in the 1960s. He teamed up with songwriting brothers Brian and Eddie Holland while they were all in their mid-20s and became Motown’s most successful songwriting team. Holland-Dozier-Holland, as they were known, composed an astounding TEN #1 singles for The Supremes between 1964 and 1967: “Where Did Our Love Go,” “Baby Love,” “Come See About Me,” “Stop! In the Name of Love,” “Back In My Arms Again,” “I Hear a Symphony,” “You Can’t Hurry Love,” “You Keep Me Hanging On,” “Love Is Here and Now You’re Gone” and “The Happening.”

The Supremes (L-R: Cindy Birdsong, Mary Wilson and Diana Ross) with Ed Sullivan

As if that wasn’t remarkable enough, the trio also wrote the bulk of the hits registered by The Four Tops: “Baby I Need Your Loving,” “I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch),” “It’s the Same Old Song,” “Reach Out I’ll Be There,” “Standing in the Shadows of Love” and “Bernadette.”

Hang on, I’m not done. Dozier and Company also wrote “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)” for Marvin Gaye (later a hit for James Taylor) as well as “Baby Don’t You Do It” (later covered as “Don’t Do It” by The Band), plus “You’re a Wonderful One” and “Can I Get a Witness.”

More? You bet: “Heat Wave,” “Nowhere to Run” and “Jimmy Mack” for Martha and The Vandellas; “This Old Heart of Mine” for The Isley Brothers; and “I’m a Road Runner” for Jr. Walker and The All-Stars.

These were just the biggest hits out of an enviable catalog that included many dozens of lesser singles for these and other acts. Talk about prolific!

“Brian and Eddie and I, we had a special kind of chemistry,” Dozier said for a 2003 Rolling Stone article. “It was like being at the carnival and hitting that bell. Bam! Number One! Bam! Number One! Bam! Number One! When we weren’t doing that with The Supremes, we were over here with the Four Tops. Bam! It was just surreal.”

Dozier (seated) with Brian and Eddie Holland, 1965

As too often happens in the music business, Holland-Dozier-Holland got involved in an ugly, lengthy contract dispute with Motown mogul Berry Gordy in 1967 over profit-sharing and royalties, which wasn’t settled for more than a decade. The trio went out on their own label, but without Motown’s promotional muscle, they weren’t able to sustain as much commercial success. Still, a few of H-D-H’s songs climbed the charts with other artists, most notable Freda Payne’s #1 smash “Band of Gold” and Chairman of the Board’s #3 hit “Give Me Just a Little More Time.”

Dozier, born in Detroit in 1941, had begun his career as a singer with local doo-wop groups like The Romeos and The Voicemasters, so it wasn’t out of his wheelhouse to return to recording his own songs in 1972. He enjoyed some success on the R&B charts and had a #15 pop hit with 1974’s “Trying to Hold On To My Woman.”

He enjoyed a resurgence as a songwriter in the ’80s when his song “Invisible” was a #21 UK hit and a #31 US hit for singer Alison Moyet. Then he teamed up with the ubiquitous Phil Collins to write “Two Hearts,” a #1 smash from the 1988 British film “Buster.” It won a Golden Globe for Best Original Song from a film, and was nominated for an Oscar and a Grammy as well. From that “Buster” soundtrack LP, Dozier also wrote “Loco in Acapulco” for The Four Tops.

Holland-Dozier-Holland were inducted in the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1988 and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1990.

Dozier, circa 2005

In a 2019 interview, Dozier was humble in discussing his legacy. “Everything I wrote or co-wrote, I give credit to God, the master muse,” he said. “I thank him for letting me put my name on his music. That’s how I look at it. I don’t read music, and I can’t write it out either. I did it all by ear and feeling when I sat down at the piano. I’m stunned that I still hear all those songs over and over. It still hasn’t let up. It’s amazing. I thought some of it wouldn’t last a day. But it’s been here and all over the world for 60 years, and that’s a great feeling.”

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For more than 50 years, Olivia Newton-John — wholesome songstress, iconic actress, sexy pop star, committed activist — has been in the public eye, and her worldwide legion of admirers shed a collective tear August 8 when she died at age 73, succumbing to a long battle with cancer.

Newton-John, 1974

Full confession: I’ve never been much of a fan of Newton-John’s music. I found her stuff to be way too cloying and middle-of-the-road for my rock and roll tastes, although she did adopt a more aggressive, uptempo approach for a while. To be fair, I haven’t really been a part of her demographic, so my opinion matters not at all to her millions of fans. I can say that I have enormous respect for her, both as an entertainer who gave her audience what they wanted, and as a strong woman of integrity who showed uncommon dedication to important health and environmental causes. By all accounts, she was a kind-hearted soul who embraced life.

She is most widely known as the goody-goody exchange student Sandy in the 1978 film version of the Broadway musical “Grease,” who radically transforms herself into a sexy vixen in order to win the heart of Danny, her erstwhile love interest played by John Travolta.

“My dearest Olivia, you made all of our lives so much better,” said Travolta this week in an Instagram post. “Your impact was incredible. I love you so much. We will see you down the road and we will all be together again. Yours from the first moment I saw you, and forever! Your Danny, your John!”

Born in Cambridge, England, Newton-John was just 6 when her family moved to Melbourne, Australia. She was 14 when she formed her first group, Sol Four, with three girls from school. Program directors at local Australian TV stations, enamored by her voice and charisma, began featuring her in solo performances under the name “Lovely Livvy.” At 18, she came in first in a talent contest and won a trip to Britain, where she recorded her first single, “’Til You Say You’ll Be Mine” (although it failed to chart).

Her first chart appearance came in 1971 with a cover of Bob Dylan’s “If Not For You,” which reached #7 in the UK, #25 on the US pop chart and her first #1 on the US “adult contemporary” (read: easy listening) chart. This kicked off a run of five pristine, quasi-country singles that established her presence on Top 40 radio through the mid-’70s: “I Will Be There,” “If You Love Me (Let Me Know),” “I Honestly Love You,” “Have You Never Been Mellow” and “Please Mr. Please.” This was all pretty featherweight stuff, a Record of the Year Grammy notwithstanding.

That all changed in 1978 when Newton-John was cast in “Grease.” Critics couldn’t ignore the fact that she not only turned in a winning acting performance but also gave the mega-platinum soundtrack album its biggest hits: “Summer Nights,” “Hopelessly Devoted to You” and especially “You’re the One That I Want,” her duet with Travolta that served as the film’s finale after she’d morphed into the tough chick. That new image — big hair, skintight black pants, off-the-shoulder black top, red stiletto heels, vamped-up makeup — was the one that adorned many a teenage bedroom wall.

Applying the evolution of her “Grease” character to her singing career, Newton-John titled her next album “Totally Hot,” complete with an album cover clad in shoulder-to-toe leather. The singles “A Little More love” and “Deeper Than the Night,” which peaked at #3 and #11 respectively, offered more aggressive rock flavorings than in the past, and her fan base went along for the ride.

In 1980, her next film, the musical fantasy “Xanadu,” was a box-office disaster (although it did great business when revived on Broadway years later). The soundtrack album, though, was another big success, thanks to the #1 single “Magic” and her collaboration with Electric Light Orchestra on the title track.

Her savvy management should get credit for her next move, which was to position her as a sort of exercise fitness queen in the Jane Fonda Aerobics mold on the cover of her 1981 LP “Physical.” She gave the music video industry and MTV a shot in the arm with a suggestive video often depicting buff hardbodies in Speedos working out around Newton-John’s instructor as she sang the double entendre lyrics.

Hank Stuever, in a commentary in The Washington Post this week, wrote: “You can hear ‘Physical’ a hundred times, maybe a thousand, before you really hear what it’s about, and it’s not exercise. It’s a woman taking control of seduction, claiming for herself the tactics usually deployed by men: the flirtation, the dinner, the movie, the horny insistence. ‘There’s nothing left to talk about, unless it’s horizontally… /I’ve been patient, I’ve been good, tried to keep my hands on the table, /It’s gettin’ hard, this holdin’ back, you know what I mean… /You gotta know that you’re bringin’ out the animal in me, /Let’s get physical, physical…‘ Although Newton-John would not survive a coming onslaught of the far more suggestive pop hits of Prince and Madonna and beyond, she showed us a door to a kind of forbidden zone, if you chose to go through it, and naturally, we did.”

The song, of course, went through the roof, setting records by remaining in the #1 slot for a ridiculous 10 weeks in 1981. An international tour, a greatest hits package with a hot new single (“Heart Attack”) and an HBO special all followed in rapid succession. It seemed the world couldn’t get enough of The New Olivia. Reuniting her with Travolta in the 1983 film “Two Of a Kind” proved to be a misfire, although the single “Twist of Fate” was yet another Top Five single.

By 1985, she was a wife and a mom, and consequently put her career on hiatus for a while. When she re-emerged in 1989 with “Warm and Tender,” an album of lullabies for parents and their children, few people bought it, with fans deciding they preferred the new pop sensations like Debbie Gibson and Tiffany.

At age 44, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and her life took on a whole new mission. She threw herself headlong into advocacy work for cancer research and self-examination, which augmented the efforts she had already been making on behalf of other health and environmental concerns. She established the Olivia Newton-John Foundation Fund that remains active to this day.

It gave me pause this week to see a quote attributed to her from a 2019 interview with Rolling Stone regarding her audience-friendly approach to music: “It annoys me when people think because it’s commercial, it’s bad,” she said. “I think it’s completely the opposite. If people like it, that’s what it’s supposed to be.”

Fair enough. Rest in peace, Olivia.

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I have compiled two Spotify lists below, one featuring the songs written by Lamont Dozier, and another that highlights Olivia Newton-John’s biggest hits.