LET ME BE THERE

Listen to LET ME BE THERE by Olivia Newton-John.

Australia's greatest export in a country stylee. This was her first big international hit (I say international because who knows what she was up to down under before this), and as everyone knows, she got her start as a kind of watered down Linda Rondstadt/John Denver countryish songstress. Let Me Be There was so big it hit top 10 in the U.S. pop charts, and so good that it won a Grammy. Oh, and Elvis loved the song and sang it repeatedly.

Readers may detect a bit of snark today, and I really should do better. I'm listening to the song, though, and it sounds exactly like a different song and my failure to pin it down is making me irritable. That, and those brain-piercing synth strings and the totally, totally odd bass vocalist she's singing with. This isn't from Australia, it's from an earworm factory.

Photo: 17th Street (4)House on 21st Street.

BLANKET ON THE GROUND

Listen to BLANKET ON THE GROUND by Billie Jo Spears.

Blanket On The Ground was a huge hit in 1975, but it missed me in the womb. The first time I heard it was on a random "not available in stores"-style compilation. Really the only thing people know about Ms. Spears (no relation) these days is that she had a bluesy voice that sounds a little between Loretta Lynn and Jeanie C. Riley (weaker voice than, stronger voice than, respectively).

But whether you've heard this song a hundred times or never, I'd like to call attention to how well arranged it is. How smoothly the band drops out before each verse and how they come back in Beatles style one at a time to really drive the song forward. Nice fuzz bass too.

If you like this song, I have to recommend that you go back to Stu and Ben's radio show from Saturday. Ben dug up this ridiculously funny/good track in the country-girl-goes-to-the-city-then-back-to-the-country vein, called Mr. Walker, It's All Over. It's really fun.

Photo: 17th Street (3).

APARTMENT 21

Listen to APARTMENT 21 by Bobbie Gentry.

Apartment 21 was just about Bobbie Gentry's last charting single before she went all Salinger. It was so good it didn't even chart on the country side! Seriously, though it's obviously much less well known than Ode To Billie Joe, it's a great song--easily my favorite of hers. She sounds so mellow and in control. Also, the production on the record is so fine. A little conga, a little fuzz guitar (stolen from the Carpenters?), a little flutey keyboard, plus the strings are so tasteful (must be why it bombed in Nashville). Many times I've floated down the street with her la-lala, la-lala, lala-la-las on my mind.

Even so, as the single only hit #81 on the pop charts, no matter how classic it is it's probably not on many jukeboxes. That's a shame isn't it?

Photo: 17th Street (2).

GOODBYE TO LOVE

Listen to GOODBYE TO LOVE by The Carpenters.

Stu and I have decided to postpone for another week his sure-to-be amazing series on contemporary Icelandic music (and by contemporary, I mean stuff that hasn't been heard anywhere--seriously, I'm excited about it), but til then you're stuck with me another week. I've been enjoying these jukebox classics, so let's have some more.

Because basically any obscure single from the 70s or 80s could conceivably fit our criterion, let's limit ourselves a bit again. Singles featuring female vocalists in a country-ish vein, that's what we'll do. ...Well, today's song isn't too country, it's classic soft rock.

Goodbye To Love was released as a single on June 19, 1972, but it was the first Carpenters single since Ticket To Ride not to reach number one. Don't let that discourage you, though, it really is one of the best, and most enduring, Carpenters singles, with a great vocal by Karen (though sorry to burst your bubble, it's not Karen on drums--that's Hal Blaine) (and before I forget my audience, yes, The Carpenters were a great group. I accepted this a long time ago and forget that lots of people look down on them. They shouldn't).

Having said that, let's keep things in perspective. One thing I enjoy about Wikipedia entries for musicians is that they're not necessarily written by critics. In fact, as a general rule, they're written by whoever has the most enthusiasm for the job, i.e., fanboys. The Goodbye To Love entry is a nice example. You may not know it, but it's an innovative song! See: "with its fuzz guitar solo in the center of a "middle of the road" (MOR) song (which had not been tried before)," Goodbye To Love "had a significant impact on the power ballads which were released afterwards." Well, how about that!

Photo: 17th Street (1).

SHE'S GONE

Listen to SHE'S GONE by Hall & Oates.

We're fair and balanced here, so today we present you a counterexample to the thesis that all pop songs should be under three-and-a-half minutes. Most of you know She's Gone by Hall & Oates. Let me clarify: most of you know the 3:28 version of She's Gone, and frankly, it's awful. Not because the song is bad--the song is brilliant--but whoever edited down the 5:17 LP version (posted here today) down to the 3:28 radio edit should have their monkey license revoked. (But whoever directed this video should be given it back.)

I won't bother posting the radio edit here, but it's a real Frankenstein's monster. There's a brutal edit at the fifty second mark, the sax solo is strangled, the tempo changes abruptly because it doesn't have a chance to breathe.

The LP version, by contrast, eases you into it, and has a much more honest, organic feel to it.

Photo: Merritt Parkway (4).

EYE IN THE SKY

Listen to EYE IN THE SKY by The Alan Parsons Project.

Another from roughly the same period. Eye In The Sky is one that really scared me as a kid. This one and In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins were the ones that would give me the chills. (Speaking of, and since we're talking about Alan Parsons, have you seen those Dark Side of the Rainbow youtubes? Eerie.)

I can't really say why Eye In The Sky scared me, or even why it holds up well today. I think it's another one of those songs that has charm, because the singing isn't quite as polished as the rest of the production.

But it's also a song that would make a good exhibit in my campaign to force pop songs to stop after three and a half minutes. Those radio DJs in the 50s and 60s who wouldn't play anything over four minutes weren't dumb--there's only so much 99% of artists can put into a song without running out of ideas after a couple of minutes.

Eye In The Sky has an excellent lyric, and an excellent sense of dread, especially in that keyboard figure. They should have done a couple of verses, and then ridden those creepy keys right on out. Instead, the Project had to make it plain they were out of original thoughts by doing one last modulated verse and a totally lame and pointless guitar solo. Just like 689,543 other too long pop tunes. It could've been a classic, but now it's just a jukebox classic.

Photo: Merritt Parkway (3).

WE DON'T TALK ANYMORE

Listen to WE DON'T TALK ANYMORE by Cliff Richard.

This is such a strange song for me. I am as big an anglophile as I hope you'll ever meet--collecti[ng] NMEs in college, knowing more about the Johnstone's Paint Trophy than who made the Final Four, to name two examples of thousands, but every once in awhile, I'm reminded I don't actually know much about that culture at all. Like, how do you explain Cliff Richard?

When I read the man's biography, I don't even know where to start. It reads like it's in a foreign language, I don't recognize any of it. I don't know any of the Shadows tunes, I don't know any of the scores of movies he's been in, I can't fathom how he's had a chart hit in England each of the last six (!) decades (today's song gave him his only chart-topper in the 70s). The man has had like 140 singles, he's bigger than Elvis over there. Yet the only song I know, and what reminds me that at the end of the day, I'm an American, is We Don't Talk Anymore.

This 1979 tune hit pretty well over here, and I think even had an MTV video, which is where I think I first heard it, as a 1st grader. It's a good tune, but nothing too special, which makes me wonder why I always play it on every jukebox I can. It must be patriotism.

Photo: Merritt Parkway (2).

SENTIMENTAL LADY

Listen to SENTIMENTAL LADY by Fleetwood Mac.
Listen to SENTIMENTAL LADY by Bob Welch.

People seemed to like last week's edition of jukebox classics so we might as well run out a few more.

Today we have a death match of sap: two versions of Sentimental Lady, the first recorded by Fleetwood Mac, then second by... basically Fleetwood Mac. The writer and singer of both is Bob Welch. Welch was a guy from L.A. with a pretty interesting career, with at least a couple of high points, as you're about to learn.

The first would be his involvement with Fleetwood Mac in the early 70s. The band had just lost Peter Green and their status as one of the biggest bands in England, and was kind of casting around for a new direction. They recruited Bob Welch (and Christine McVie), and he was instrumental in pushing them away from the bluesbreakers style of Green and towards what eventually became the multibillion-selling pop monsters of the mid-to-late 70s.

Welch was involved in four Fleetwood Mac albums, my favorite being "Bare Trees," an album broadly acknowledged as being one of the band's strongest.

Sentimental Lady was originally written for "Bare Trees," and to be fair, this version isn't that sappy. Welch's vocals (and lyrics, but especially the vocals) are just a little too awkward to sound contrived. It very much sounds like the chance for the sideman to get his moment in the sun, and you want to root for it like you do Ringo's (or George's early) songs.

"Bare Trees" came out in 1972. A couple years later, Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joined Fleetwood Mac, effectively forcing Welch out. By 1977, Welch was recording a solo album. The thing about Sentimental Lady is that it's a helluva great melody. Welch obviously thought it was too, because he re-recorded it, with his old band mates (McVie and Buckingham are prominently featured on backing vocals), and for maximum commercial effect. It's this version you've probably heard before, because it sold a lot of records. It's pretty unstoppable pop, but it doesn't have the charm of the early version. Listen to both and see if you agree!

Photo: Merritt Parkway (1).

GALVESTON

Listen to GALVESTON by Glen Campbell.

In the continued absence of Jason (skiing in the Alps this time), here's a bonus one-word jukebox classic for you this Friday.

Galveston has long been a strange one to me. First, having been to Galveston, it's hard for me to see where such longing for the place could come from (oddly enough, this isn't the only, or even my favorite song about Galveston. Someday I'll post a great tune by Lonnie Hill called Galveston Bay). Maybe that was part of Jimmy Webb's point in writing the song though, made in his typically oblique way--it's about longing for a place you know and understand, wherever that may be.

Anyway, why is this a jukebox classic? I'd say for two reasons. One is that measured by its own terms, the song is a success. That's easy--one of Jimmy Webb's best melodies with one of Glen Campbell's best performances, that means it's great, no question. The second thing, though, is its strangeness, its obliqueness. I'm sure this was there even in 1969 but forty years later it's probably the thing that stands out most to me. Even then, the production was wrapped in honey, now it sounds wrapped in amber. It's alien, a fossil. It's like hearing a song from a totally different world. Which it is I guess.

That's it for me this week. I got word from Stu yesterday that he's collecting some amazing performances over in Iceland this week, and hopefully he'll share some of them here next week. Otherwise, more of me. Have a good weekend!

Photo: Sunset, the west side.

SUNDOWN

Listen to SUNDOWN by Gordon Lightfoot.

Since I can remember I've been wanting to post Sundown by Gordon Lightfoot but for the life of me I can't remember why!

In jukebox classics terms, there's nothing to say about this song. Sundown, duh, jukebox classic. I think this is a tune that I actually used to play at Muldoon's with my former colleagues, but even that I'm not sure about.

The one thing I really love about the arrangement on this song is how on most all of the refrains, "Sundown, you better take care...," they've got Gord doubled and backed, but for the initial statement of the refrain, it's just him by himself. Something very cool about that.

Photo: Sundown, the leeward side.

RINGS

Listen to RINGS by Cymarron.

Some more soft rock jukebox goodness for you here. Rings is just classic enough that people more or less recognize it when it comes on but it was never so ubiquitous as to wear out its welcome.

Cymarron has a pretty good pedigree. Recorded at Muscle Shoals by Chips Moman, this was another group featuring a former member of the Box Tops that never got the exposure they deserved.

Rings was supposedly written specifically for a wedding, which is kind of nice isn't it?

Photo: Sunset at Ted's.

HIM

Listen to HIM by Rupert Holmes.

Unjustly overshadowed by the insipid Pina Colada song, Rupert Holmes's Him is an awesome piece of late 70s-ness. Those roller rink strings, the neutered Rhodes, the Bee Gees bass, it's all there.

Listening to it now, it's great. But how good must it have sounded on FM radio in the Buick on the way to get in line to see The Empire Strikes Back at the twin, eh?

Photo: Landing at dusk.

MAGIC

Listen to MAGIC by Pilot.

Hungover from a poor (Arsenal) weekend, it's time to dig into our stash of comfort music. When last we tucked into some Jukebox Classics, my interest was in obscure tunes that should have been hits and would sound great in a bar somewhere. This week, I'm going to share songs that are true jukebox classics. Songs that are well known but forgotten, songs that you can greet as a long lost friend.

Magic by Pilot certainly qualifies. Magic was released in October 1974, and made its way up the charts, reaching #5 in June 1975. As such, it could very well be the first song that ever got stuck in my head. I can't think of many better ways to pass the time that hum "o-ho-HO-it's-MAGIC!"

Anyway, let's end this post like this. I went looking around the internet for trivia about today's song, and in the process found possibly the strangest straight news article I've ever read:

Chikumbutso Mponda of Ntchisi is behind bars after he fell down from a magic plane on his way to his home village....

Kandiado said since it was at night and fearing for their lives, the convict and a friend decided to use a magic plane for the remainder of the trip.

"Unfortunately, Mponda fell from the magic plane after it flew over a house at Mponela Trading Centre, which was heavily protected magically," said Kandiado.

Photo: A new day on Wilburn Avenue.

SEE THEM GLOW

SEE THEM GLOW by Lake.

So speaking of yacht rock, guess who's playing B.B. King's tonight? If I didn't have CMJ duties...

A year or so ago this concept of Yacht Rock was sweeping the internet. This is basically just SoCal soft rock from the 70s, but it's all the congenial, gormless stuff that sounds good on a jukebox and that we love around here.

Stu sent us this track so we don't know much about it. Even though these guys are German, it's got the yacht rock sound down cold. Can't you just imagine a bunch of dudes in beards bobbing along with this tune if someone slipped it on at K&M Bar?

LISTEN.

Photo: All kinds.

DALLAS

DALLAS by Poco.

Even though I hate the f*cking Eagles, man, they're permanently embedded in my DNA from years of exposure to classic rock radio, so I have to confess that one time I was stuck in an airport bar in Hawaii and played four of the songs from The Eagles Greatest Hits three times before my plane arrived. The only other album I knew in that jukebox was Was (Not Was) and that was not going to happen.

The Timothy B. Schmidt factor has pretty much scared me off of Poco, but when I heard that Steely Dan wrote a song for the group I had to check it out. You can totally hear the Dan's influence in Dallas melodically and structurally, but it's understandable why Becker and Fagen didn't keep it for themselves. Their poisonous relationships are strictly bi-coastal. I've been in Dallas and it ain't that nasty.

LISTEN.

Photo: Highway relic.

MATTIE'S RAG

MATTIE'S RAG by Gerry Rafferty.

Here's how this blogging lark goes: sometimes we look at the music and think we'll never pick anything worth posting, and sometimes there's a flipping embarrassment of riches. This week we're feeling blessed. I've got some amazing Peruvian pop music lined up; Amy is planning a J-pop week that will be awesome if we can secure the right mp3s; some killer Stones covers, some drinking songs, some Ottoman military marches, and on and on.

So we flipped a coin and decided to continue with the jukebox theme a little bit this week. As a man of many useless talents, I'm pretty good at picking radio hits from the 70s languishing on the jukeboxes of the dive bars of New York. Like Little River Band at the Village Idiot (RIP), .38 Special at Milady's, Jeannie C. Riley at Doc Holliday's, Cliff Richard at Muldoon's, and on and on. Oh, and Gerry Rafferty at Molly's.

Most people know a little Gerry Rafferty. Inevitably there's Stuck In The Middle With You, but also Baker Street, with the greatest sax in the universe. Most people don't know, though, that Baker Street is on a great, great album called "City To City." I spent about 4 years looking for it on somebody's recommendation, and finally found it in a dumpy CD reseller in Toronto.

This is all a long-winded way of saying that this song Mattie's Rag is on "City To City," and more people should here it, because it's catchy, Irishy, & worth a quarter in the bar if you ever find it.

LISTEN.

Photo: I love the classics.