Archive for the ‘Video’ Category

Back In ’73

Thursday, July 18th, 2019

For the past couple weeks, I’ve been looking at my radio listening and then my LP listening from first 1972 and then 1971, then ending the week with a Saturday Single from that year. It occurred to me sometime in the dreamy hours last night that some weeks ago, I addressed my radio listening during the summer of 1973 but I didn’t think to look at the LPs I’d added to the cardboard box in the basement in the year prior.

Never one to let an easy idea go unused, here’s a look at how my LP collection had grown between midsummer 1972 and the same time of year in 1973, and an assessment of how much those LPs matter to me now:

As the summer of 1973 passed by, I bought no new music. Even though my ideas of what I would find when I went to Denmark in September were very unclear, I was certain that saving five dollars to spend on a beer or three in Denmark in the autumn was a better choice than picking up something by Steely Dan at Axis on St. Germain Street downtown.

So once the calendar hit February 1973 and I knew I’d be going away in September, I spent almost no money on music. The two late winter exceptions, according to the LP database, were a used copy of J.J. Cale’s Naturally that I actually bought at Axis, and a double album of Fats Domino’s 1950s and early 1960s hits that I bought used from a co-worker at St. Cloud State Learning Resources. I think I paid a buck for the Cale and fifty cents for the Domino.

Here are the albums I added to the cardboard box in the rec room from mid-1972 to September 1973:

Beatles VI
A Hard Day’s Night by the Beatles
Live: The Road Goes Ever On by Mountain
In Search Of The Lost Chord by the Moody Blues
Stage Fright by The Band
Retrospective by Buffalo Springfield
Imagine by John Lennon
Sticky Fingers by the Rolling Stones
To Bonnie From Delaney by Delaney & Bonnie & Friends
Seventh Sojourn by the Moody Blues
Naturally by J.J. Cale
Legendary Masters Series by Fats Domino
Exile on Main St. by the Rolling Stones
John Barleycorn Must Die by Traffic

The last two were gifts from a friend at The Table at St. Cloud State. He’d found them underwhelming and handed them to me one evening in June. And that was the last new music I got until May of the following year, 1974, when I spent about fifty Danish kroner – garnered from ten bucks Rick had sent me from home – to buy Sebastian’s Den Store Flugt, the first of what is now a substantial collection of Danish folk-rock and pop on my various shelves.

But back to the 1972-73 acquisitions: The first two entries completed my Beatles collection, giving me all eighteen of the American releases on Capitol/Apple and United Artists. I finished it, as I’d told Rick I would, just weeks before he began his senior year of high school. In the rankings of Beatles’ albums, A Hard Day’s Night was pretty good, but Beatles VI was a little blah. Some of the tracks from the first of those two are in the iPod, but few, if any, from the second are among my day to day listening; the CD shelves do hold everything from those two albums in the British configurations.

Again, I’m struck by how much of this music seems to be formative. Aside from the Beatles’ albums, eight of the twelve LPs listed there are on the CD shelves today, and I have two differently titled Fats Domino collections. The only albums listed there that are not replicated on the CD stacks are those by Mountain, Buffalo Springfield and John Lennon.

So how many tracks from those albums show up in the iPod?

There’s just one – the long version of “Nantucket Sleighride” – from the Mountain album, and none from In Search Of The Lost Chord, which to me has always been the least interesting of the Moody Blues’ 1960s and 1970s albums (though perhaps I should find room for “Legend Of A Mind” with its lilting chorus of “Timothy Leary’s dead . . .”).

The iPod offers eleven of the twelve tracks from the Buffalo Springfield compilation (excluding “Rock & Roll Woman” for some reason). Conversely, only the title track from Imagine is in my day-to-day listening, and that seems to be enough.

Elsewhere in the iPod, we find five tracks each from Sticky Fingers and Seventh Sojourn, four from To Bonnie From Delaney, all twelve tracks from Naturally, nine from Exile On Main St., four from John Barleycorn Must Die, and three from Stage Fright.

So, as I’ve concluded from earlier posts looking at the music acquired in 1970-71 and 1971-72, this stuff still matters greatly to me. Interspersed among the 3,900-some total tracks in the iPod, the tunes from those first three years of serious listening and collecting don’t pop up often, but when they do, they remind me of the foundations of my listening habits.

Here’s one of those foundational tracks: “Living On The Open Road” by Delaney & Bonnie & Friends from 1970. (One of those friends is Duane Allman, who adds slide guitar here.)

Saturday Single No. 649

Saturday, July 13th, 2019

We’re still in 1971 today, pulling four tracks from that year at random out of the RealPlayer. As noted earlier this week, those tracks number about 3,900. We’ll sort them by running time, then we’ll drop the cursor in the middle and go.

And our first stop is a brief – 2:15 – piece of easy listening titled “Portrait Of Nancy” from an album titled The Rhythms, Sounds and Melodies of Jean Bouchéty. According to discogs, Bouchéty, a French composer and bass player, released ten or so albums of easy listening music between the late 1960s and the mid-1980s and worked on several soundtracks. It was one of those soundtracks – 1967’s The Game Is Over, written with fellow Frenchman Jean-Pierre Bourtayre – that brought me indirectly to his music. John Denver took the music from one track of the soundtrack, added English words, and offered the resulting tune, “The Game Is Over,” on his 1970 album Whose Garden Was This. Denver’s track led me to the soundtrack, which led me to more of Bouchéty’s work. “Portrait Of Nancy” is a sweet tune with, as one might imagine, a slight Gallic flair.

We move on to “Show Me The Way” from the album One Fine Morning by the Canadian band Lighthouse. The album’s title track was, of course, a hit, reaching No. 24 on the Billboard Hot 100. “Show Me The Way” is a mid-tempo ballad, with the singer asking for direction in being a better man: “Take my hand. Gotta show me the way.” It’s not at all clear if the singer is talking to a lover or to God. It could easily have been the latter, given that the record came out in the era of Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar. It’s not a bad track, and it has some tasty horns in the background. But it’s not “One Fine Morning.”

It’s our day for instrumentals, as we fall on “Madelin,” a gentle plucked tune by the British folk group Tudor Lodge, found on the group’s self-titled debut album (rereleased in recent years on an Italian label). The group’s music, notes Jo-Ann Greene of AllMusic, is nothing but pastoral:

[T]heir music is the sound of a summer’s day in centuries past, where “grey-backed squirrels run to safety,” (“Forest”), ladies “disappear into the sunset, shrouded in organdie and wine” (“Willow Tree”), and even bloody battlefields become a place for quiet contemplation (“Help Me Find Myself”). And, all the while, clarinets twinkle, violins sigh, and cellos call to one another across the verdant fields.

And since British folk music scratches one of my major itches, I’m quite content to let the intricate string work carry me away to Merrie Olde England.

Returning to 1971, we find another example of religion in pop music with Noel Paul Stookey’s cover of Arlo Guthrie’s “Gabriel’s Mother’s Hiway Ballad #16 Blues.” Stookey was, of course, the Paul in Peter, Paul & Mary, and the track can be found on his solo album Paul and. The rather lengthy tune is simple, made up of four-line verses, with the musical backing going from relatively simple piano chording and guitar plucking to a more complex (and somewhat intrusive) backing as the end of the track approaches.

Mellow is the mood today, with four understated tracks found along the way. And we’re going with the last of them. Here’s “Gabriel’s Mother’s Hiway Ballad #16 Blues” by Noel Paul Stookey. It’s today’s Saturday Single.

Back In ’71, Part 2

Friday, July 12th, 2019

So what was I listening to at home during my summer of lawn-mowing and floor cleaning? Well, the radio, some of the time. But most of my free hours at home found me in the basement rec room, lazing (or reading) on the green couch and listening to albums on the RCA portable stereo.

And here are the albums I’d added to the cardboard box between May 1970, the last month of my junior year of high school, and July 1971:

Let It Be by the Beatles
Chicago (the silver album)
Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by the Beatles
Best Of Bee Gees
Hey Jude by the Beatles
Revolver by the Beatles
Magical Mystery Tour by the Beatles
Déjà Vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
The Band
The Beatles (White Album)
Symphony No. 5 in E Minor by Dvořák/The Moldau by Smetana
Crosby, Stills & Nash
St. Cloud Tech High Choirs 1971
“Yesterday” . . . and Today by the Beatles
Pearl by Janis Joplin
Ram by Paul & Linda McCartney

Getting the least play, certainly, would have been the choir album. I imagine I listened to it once and then tucked it away. I still have it. And I had to be in the right mood for the Dvořák/Smetana LP, which offered me pieces I’d played in the high school orchestra.

The most played? Well, probably Pearl and Ram, the most recent additions. I know that the first LP of the Chicago album got a lot of play, usually the second side, with the long “Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon,” but I also liked the first side. Sides three and four didn’t interest me all that much (and still don’t).

Obviously, the Beatles got a lot of play, and so did the self-titled album by The Band. The Bee Gees collection probably came in last among the pop-rock albums.

So, almost fifty years down the pike, which of those albums matter now? As always, we’ll measure that by seeing how many tracks show up among the 3,900-some on the iPod, which provides my day-to-day listening.

It’s hard to sort the Beatles’ tracks out, as the listings in the iPod show the album titles as they came out in Britain (or U.S. single catalog numbers), not the sliced and diced albums that came out in the U.S. A quick glance shows that all those Beatles albums are represented about equally in the iPod. Their music still matters to me a great deal.

The same is true of The Band, as ten of its twelve tracks are in the iPod. But I’ve trimmed the Chicago album down to “Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon,” “25 or 6 to 4” and the single edit of “Make Me Smile.”

About two-thirds of Crosby, Stills & Nash and Déjà Vu are in the device; interestingly, among those absent from the first of those two albums are “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” and the two Graham Nash compositions, “Marrakesh Express” and “Lady Of The Island,” and among the absent from the second are the two Nash compositions, “Teach Your Children” and “Our House.” I must not like Nash’s work as much as I like that of the others in that bunch. (And I make a mental note to see if I can find room in the iPod for “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.”)

About two-thirds of the Bee Gees’ collection shows up, too. And most of Ram is present, as is about a third of Pearl.

And all of that leaves me wondering: Are these albums over-represented in my day-to-day listening because they were among the first LPs I got when I became vitally interested in pop and rock? Or are they that good? I don’t know the answers to those questions.

So what do I feature from these albums that still matter to me almost fifty years after they came into my life? Well, here’s one of the strangest tracks from among those albums, the Bee Gees’ “Every Christian Lion Hearted Man Will Show You.” It came originally from the 1967 album The Bee Gees 1st.

Back In ’71

Thursday, July 11th, 2019

Having messed around in 1972 last week and finding not many ideas percolating in my brain this week, we’re going to basically do the same thing this week with 1971: A post looking at radio listening followed by one looking at LP listening, capped by a Saturday random post from the 1971 tracks on the digital shelves. (There are about 3,900 such tracks.)

So we’ll start with a stop at Oldiesloon and the KDWB 6+30 from July 12, 1971, forty-eight years ago tomorrow. Here’s the top ten at the Twin Cities station:

“Don’t Pull Your Love” by Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds
“It’s Too Late” by Carole King
“You’ve Got A Friend” by James Taylor
“Never Ending Song Of Love” by Delaney & Bonnie & Friends
“That’s The Way I Always Heard It Should Be” by Carly Simon
“Sooner Or Later” by the Grass Roots
“Get It On” by Chase
“When You’re Hot, You’re Hot” by Jerry Reed
“Rainy Days & Mondays” by the Carpenters
“Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again” by the Fortunes

That’s a great stretch of music right there. I’d even be happy hearing the Jerry Reed single again. (It was not one of my faves back in ’71.) And I’m reminded of a comment that came from my pal jb some years ago when I wrote about “It’s Too Late” and its opening piano figure. That intro, he said was “the sound of the summer of ’71 distilled to a few seconds.”

Along with “It’s Too Late,” I’d note a few other records from those ten as major pleasures: The records by Chase, Carly Simon, the Grass Roots, and Delaney & Bonnie & Friends.

I was likely not listening to KDWB as much that summer as I had been other summers. This was the summer I spent working maintenance at St. Cloud State, mowing lawn for about six weeks and then working as a custodian for another six (with the last four of those spent roaming the campus with my new pal Mike as a two-man floor cleaning crew). A couple of days during the first six weeks, inclement weather kept the mowers inside doing odd jobs, and we could have a radio then, and I think Mike and I had a radio we moved from room to room as we scrubbed, waxed and polished floors. So there was music during working hours maybe a third of the time.

And in the evenings at home, I listened to WJON across the tracks, and my bedtime listening came courtesy of WLS in Chicago.

Still, most of the 6+30 from this week in 1971 is familiar. I had to look up “Double Barrel” by Dave & Ansel Collins, which was sitting at No. 15. It’s a decent reggae record that got to No. 7 at KDWB and to No. 22 in the Billboard Hot 100.

And at No. 33 on KDWB was Tom Clay’s “What The World Needs Now Is Love/Abraham, Martin And John.” It’s an audio collage that opens and closes with conversations with children and includes sounds associated with the upheavals of the 1960s, especially the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy. It’s all backed with music from the two songs in the title (with vocals by the Blackberries, according to Joel Whitburn).

Clay was a disc jockey at KGBS in Los Angeles when he put the record together. It spent the first two weeks of August at the top of KDWB’s 6+30; it peaked at No. 8 on the Hot 100.An album featuring the single went to No. 92 on the Billboard 200.

It’s an interesting artifact of the times, and it makes me a little melancholy.

Saturday Single No. 648

Saturday, July 6th, 2019

Well, since we’ve been in kind of a 1972 groove this week, I thought we’d stay there today and let the gods of randomness have a moment. There are about 3,300-some tracks from 1972 in the RealPlayer, and we’re going to sort those by length, drop the cursor into the midpoint and go random four times. We’ll skip past stuff we’ve listened to here before.

The Trammps were still six years away from the glory of “Disco Inferno” when “Scrub Board” came out as a B-side of “Sixty Minute Man” on the Buddah label. As B-sides go, well, it’s a B-side – 3:11 of orchestral riffs that might have been a decent backing track for some vocals. The A-side, “Sixty Minute Man,” was more energetic and interesting, but still a little limp. It bubbled under the Billboard Hot 100 for two weeks, getting to No. 108, and I’m sure that any music director that gave the flip a chance didn’t listen too long. Since we’re locked into the B-side, these are not the riffs we’re looking for.

One of my recent dishwashing music sequences for Facebook brought me around to “Propinquity,” a track from Earl Scruggs’ 1972 album I Saw The Light With Some Help From My Friends. The brief tune – it runs only 2:21 – is a tale of finally seeing clearly, and with love, someone who’s been close for a long time. It came from the pen of Mike Nesmith (one of the Monkees, of course, but a very good country-rock musician and writer on his own), and on Scruggs’ album, it features the vocals of Jeff Hanna of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. I came upon the album only two years ago – there is so much music still to learn about – and have been enjoying it greatly.

And next we get “It’s Only A Dream” by Mama Lion, your basic early ’70s rock joint, with some intrusive driving guitar and catchy drum work, a decent piano riff and some vocals over-sung by lead singer Lynn Carey. As I’ve noted before, Mama Lion released two albums of competent but hardly ground-breaking rock; Preserve Wildlife, the source of “It’s Only A Dream,” was its first. I’ve sometimes thought that Carey’s post-Lion work might be worth seeking out, but I’ve never made it a priority.

Finally, we fall on the title track of an album I’ve surprisingly mentioned only once here: “Toulouse Street” by the Doobie Brothers. The album is home to the group’s first hits – “Listen To The Music,” “Jesus Is Just Alright” and “Rockin’ Down The Highway” – but the title track has always seemed to me one of the most atmospheric of the group’s recordings. With its chorus of “I just might pass this way again,” the track – the B-side to “Listen To The Music” – seems like an eerie progenitor of – and possibly the inspiration for – Seals & Crofts’ 1973 hit “We May Never Pass This Way (Again)”

So the gods of randomness have batted .500, and that’s good enough. I was ready to feature “Propinquity,” but a nighttime walk through the Crescent City altered that idea. Here’s the Doobie Brothers’ “Toulouse Street.” It’s today’s Saturday Single.

Back In ’72, Part 2

Friday, July 5th, 2019

Having examined the other day what I was listening to on the radio as the summer of ’72 rolled on, I thought I’d take a look at the LP log and see what new tunes had found their way into the cardboard box in the basement rec room on Kilian Boulevard.

New acquisitions in the past year had been:

Stephen Stills
Jesus Christ Superstar
Abbey Road by the Beatles
Something New by the Beatles
13 by the Doors
Aqualung by Jethro Tull
Meet the Beatles
Naturally by Three Dog Night
The Concert For Bangla Desh
Rubber Soul by the Beatles
Greatest Hits, Vol. II, by Bob Dylan
Portrait of the Young Artist by Mark Turnbull
Joe Cocker!
‘Get Your Ya-Ya’s Out!’ by the Rolling Stones
Early Beatles
Yellow Submarine by the Beatles
Clapton At His Best by Eric Clapton
The Beatles Second Album
A Special Path by Becky Severson

Obviously, I was still pulling together my complete collection of the Beatles original albums (which I would finish by the end of August 1972), and those albums got lots of play in the rec room, especially Abbey Road and Rubber Soul. Others that got frequent play were Stephen Stills, Aqualung, Joe Cocker!, Clapton At His Best, and the albums by Dylan, the Doors and the Rolling Stones. (Some records brought home earlier than the summer of 1971 were also in heavy rotation.)

As I noted the other day, Becky Severson’s album was one I likely played only once until I ripped it into mp3s in 2007. Similarly, the Mark Turnbull album most likely got played only once until I ripped one track about ten years ago. Becky’s album is still here; Turnbull’s is not.

So, which of those albums still speak to me?

Well, Abbey Road for certain; I pop it into the car CD player on occasion and most of it is in the iPod. The four early Beatle albums were the American mishmashes pulled from the British albums and stand-alone single releases, all of which I have on CD in differing configurations, so I don’t listen to the American releases as albums anymore. A good number of the tracks from those CDs are in the iPod, as is one from Yellow Submarine.

Stephen Stills remains one of my favorite albums of all time, likely Top Ten, certainly Top 20, and all ten of its tracks are on the iPod.

What else shows up on the iPod? (That’s as good a measure as any of what music matters to me in my day-to-day life.)

Two tracks from Jesus Christ Superstar. Ten of thirteen from the Doors album (and only two other Doors tracks are on the iPod, underlining my contention that the Doors were a great singles band that made mediocre albums). Five tracks from Joe Cocker! None from Aqualung. Seven tracks from The Concert For Bangla Desh. Pretty much everything from the Clapton and Dylan anthologies, which were two of the most influential album acquisitions of my life. Two from the live Stones album. And one from the Three Dog Night album.

That’s about what I would have guessed, though I’m a little surprised by the absence of anything from Aqualung.

Anyway, here’s a track from those 1972-era acquisitions that popped up on the iPod the other day. It’s been mentioned here a couple of times over the past twelve-plus years but never featured. And it’s pretty damned good. Here’s the Beatles’ “Hey Bulldog,” recorded at Abbey Road in February 1968 and released on Yellow Submarine in 1969.

Back In ’72

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2019

I shared here the other day a repost from 2007, a piece about my high school friend Becky and how I found a track from her 1972 album, A Special Path, on an anthology titled Wayfaring Strangers: Ladies From the Canyon. I admit that I likely never listened more than once to Becky’s album – Christian folk was never my genre – but I made sure that I kept it the other year when I sold about two-thirds of the LPs on my shelf.

And thinking about July 1972 – when Becky delivered her album to my door – I got to wondering what I was listening to at the time. Part of that was easy. I was working half-time as a janitor at St. Cloud State’s Campus Lab School that summer, and a radio tuned to the Twin Cities’ KDWB was never far away (though never turned up very loud).

Neither Oldiesloon nor the Airheads Radio Survey Archive has a KDWB survey from July 1972, but Oldiesloon has the July 7 Star Survey from WDGY, the Twin Cities’ other Top 40 station of the time. The Top Ten at ’DGY was:

“Lean On Me” by Bill Withers
“Too Late To Turn Back Now” by the Cornelius Brothers & Sister Rose
“Layla” by Derek & The Dominos
“Rocket Man” by Elton John
“Daddy Don’t You Walk So Fast” by Wayne Newton
“Brandy” by Looking Glass
“Day By Day” by the cast of “Godspell”
“Conquistador” by Procol Harum & The Edmonton Symphony Orchestra
“Song Sung Blue” by Neil Diamond
“Alone Again (Naturally)” by Gilbert O’Sullivan

A few of those underline the summer for me. The first, the O’Sullivan single was omnipresent; I recall hearing it at work, in the car, around me as I wandered around with friends, just everywhere. I got tired of it rapidly and dismissed it when it showed up again over the years (until a recent hearing of it on one of our cable channels reminded me how tightly crafted a pop song it is).

The other two that hang in the air of my summer of ’72 memories are “Brandy” and “Layla.” The Looking Glass single was a large part of the soundtrack to the trip that I took with Rick and our pal Gary to Winnipeg in August. No matter what Top 40 station we found on the radio of my 1961 Falcon, “Brandy” was sure to pop up very soon. As to “Layla,” well, I’d heard the first half of the classic track two years earlier when Atco released an edited version that ended before Jim Gordon’s lyrical piano coda. The 1972 single from Polydor included that portion, which I’d never heard before, being clueless about Derek & The Dominos to that point in my life.

(Beyond being a beautiful piece of work, Gordon’s piano part – which, given things I’ve read over the years, should also have been credited to Rita Coolidge [not Bonnie Bramlett, as reader David helpfully pointed out] – was the first piece of pop music that I was able to play on piano simply by listening to it on the radio. My two recently completed quarters of music theory along with lots of piano practice had given me new tools that I was thrilled to use.)

There are a few other records a bit lower on that WDGY survey that immediately say 1972: “Where Is The Love” by Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway is one that I singled out a few years ago as the record of the summer, and the Hollies’ “Long Cool Woman,” America’s “I Need You,” and Jim Croce’s “You Don’t Mess Around With Jim” also bring back that time pretty vividly.

Wandering afield from what I was listening to that summer, there are a couple of records listed on the WDGY survey from July 7, 1972, whose titles I do not recognize: “We’re Free” by Beverly Bremers at No. 15 and “We’re On Our Way” by Chris Hodge, at No. 18. So I head to YouTube.

Bremers’ record, a paean to being lovers without being married – a topic at least slightly controversial for a record in 1972– is utterly unfamiliar to me. According to ARSA, it went to No. 2 or No. 3 in a number of markets: in Anchorage, Alaska, in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, in Honolulu, Hawaii, and – surprisingly –in Nashville, Tennessee, and Lynchburg, Virginia. And it went Top Ten in about ten more markets across the country. Overall, though, its performance was just so-so, as the record peaked on the Billboard Hot 100 at No. 40.

A quick listen to Hodge’s record – a release on the Beatles’ Apple label – reminds me that I sought it out once and dismissed it. It’s a mid-tempo rocker about UFOs, a woman riding on moonbeams, and bringing the “truth to planet Earth,” all of which, one would think, would have played well in 1972. The surveys gathered at ARSA show the record making the Top Ten in Syracuse, New York, and Saginaw, Michigan. It went to No. 44 on the Billboard Hot 100.

Of the two, Bremers’ record is more interesting, and it made the Top 40, if only barely. So here it is:

Saturday Single No. 646

Saturday, June 22nd, 2019

We stopped at the St. Cloud farmers market this morning, hoping to connect with the woman from Browerville from whom we buy cucumbers every summer. Alas, she was not there today. Nor were there many other vendors; it’s still early – especially given the wet, cool spring – for much produce to be available.

So we and a friend wandered through the rest of the market, and we bought some green onions, though I’m not certain what plans the Texas Gal has for them. I considered a lamb chop before deciding against it. And then the three of us had a late breakfast/early lunch.

A stop at the grocery store followed, and we came home already tired and ready to sneak in a nap. So I’m making this brief.

Here’s a loose and loopy Saturday song: “Big Time Saturday Night” by the Goose Creek Symphony. It’s from 1970, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

What’s At No. 100? (June 1974)

Friday, June 21st, 2019

So we’re going to look today at the bottom of the Billboard Hot 100 that came out as June 1974 hit the three-quarter mark and see what there is to listen to. But first, as we do with these exercises, we’re going to look at the Top Ten from that time and see if any of those records still have a shelf life around here.

Here’s the Top Ten from the Hot 100 released June 22, 1974, forty-five years ago tomorrow:

“Billy, Don’t Be A Hero” by Bo Donaldson & The Heywoods
“You Make Me Feel Brand New” by the Stylistics
“Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot
“The Streak” by Ray Stevens
“Be Thankful For What You Got” by William DeVaughn
“Band On The Run” by Paul McCartney & Wings
“If You Love Me (Let Me Know)” by Olivia Newton-John
“Dancing Machine” by the Jackson 5
“Hollywood Swinging” by Kool & The Gang
“The Entertainer” by Marvin Hamlisch

Well, seven out of those ten would make some good listening, back then and even today. Two of them I’ll dismiss from class early: The story-song of “Billy, Don’t Be A Hero” didn’t do much for me in 1974 and still doesn’t today. It’s benign, though, unlike the Ray Stevens record, which I dislike greatly.

Then there’s “Hollywood Swinging,” a title I do not recognize. And listening to the track this morning rings only very faint bells. My Top 40 listening at the time would have come from the Twin Cities’ KDWB in the daytime (though that was limited), from St. Cloud’s WJON in the early evening and from, well, who knows what later in the evening. I could not find a KDWB survey from the week in question, but one released ten days later, on July 1, 1974, finds the single absent. So I might have heard it in 1974, but if I did, it obviously didn’t matter to me.

The other seven, though, I liked. How much? Well, four of them – those by Lightfoot, McCartney & Wings, Newton-John, and the Stylistics – are among the 3,900 tracks in the iPod, which gives them some kind of stature around here. The other three? Well, I’ve featured the DeVaughn single here at least once, and I don’t wince when the other two show up.

Actually, at the time this Hot 100 came out, I wasn’t listening to a lot of Top 40, except maybe in the evening. I was pretty much confined to home, recovering from a mysterious lung ailment that set in a week after I got home from Denmark, and my days were spent mostly on the green couch in the basement rec room, getting reacquainted with my album collection and going through the piles of Time and Sports Illustrated that my dad had set aside for me while I was gone. So the fact that four of those ten are still in my queue is pretty good, I think.

But what of our other business with the Hot 100 from June 22, 1974? What lies at the very bottom of that list?

Well, it’s a piece of funk from Smokey Robinson titled “It’s Her Turn To Live,” on its way off the chart after peaking at No. 82 and reaching No. 29 on the Billboard R&B chart. I doubt I’ve ever heard it until this morning, but it’s pretty good. Here it is:

Saturday Single No. 645

Saturday, June 15th, 2019

It’s time for Games With Numbers!

We’re going to take the numerals from today’s date – 6/15/19 – and add them together to get 40. Then we’re going to look at four Billboard Hot 100s from the mid-point of June and see what we find at No. 40. We’ll use the chart in each year closest to June 15, and along the way, we’ll note the No. 1 and No. 2 records of those weeks. I think we’ll start in 1966 and jump three years at a time, hitting 1969, 1972 and 1975 along the way.

And we start with a country crossover lament: “The Last Word In Lonesome Is Me” by Eddy Arnold. He was, of course, one of the giants of post-World War II country, putting 128 records into the Billboard country chart between 1945 and 1982, with twenty-eight of them reaching No. 1. He had twenty-nine records chart on the Hot 100; his highest ranking record there was 1965’s “Make The World Go Away,” which got to No. 6. As to “The Last Word In Lonesome Is Me,” it would go no higher than the No. 40 spot where we found it on the June 18, 1966, chart. On the country chart, it got to No. 2, and it went to No. 9 on the magazine’s easy listening chart. It’s a pretty record, but it doesn’t scratch any itches for me.

Parked at No. 1 during mid-June 1966 was “Paint It, Black” by the Rolling Stones, while the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind” was at No. 2.

Off we go to mid-June in 1969, and we find ourselves a chewy piece of bubblegum: The No. 40 record on June 14, 1969, was “Special Delivery” by the 1910 Fruitgum Company. The Fruitgum Company wasn’t really a band, of course; it was a revolving group of players brought together by producers Jerry Kasenetz and Jeff Katz to back lead singer Joey Levine, who also sang lead on records for Ohio Express, Crazy Elephant and Reunion (and maybe more, I suppose). By the time June 1969 rolled around, the Fruitgum Company had put three singles into the Top Ten: “Simon Says,” “1, 2, 3, Red Light,” and “Indian Giver.” But the group’s brand of bubblegum had lost it flavor, it seems, as “Special Delivery” would stall at No. 38. The group had only two more singles reach the Hot 100, one reaching No. 57 and the other bubbling under at No. 118. “Special Delivery” is catchy, of course, but nothing much, except I do love the saxophone intros.

The No. 1 record as the middle of June 1969 approached was “Get Back” by the Beatles with Billy Preston; sitting at No. 2 was “Love Theme From ‘Romeo & Juliet’” by Henry Mancini and his orchestra.

Next up is 1972, and the record that sat at No. 40 in the Hot 100 released on June 17 was the mournful plaint (with a few power moments mixed in) of “All The King’s Horses” by Aretha Franklin. There’s no point in digging too deeply into the astounding numbers; it’s enough to say that “All The King’s Horses” was the fifty-fourth single Franklin had put in or near the Hot 100, with another thirty-four to come. The record was on its way to No. 26; it went to No. 7 (along with its B-side, “April Fools”) on the magazine’s R&B chart. I like it, but the shift from plaintive to powerful along the way disorients me; maybe it’s supposed to, but I find it distracting.

Sitting atop the Hot 100 at mid-June 1972 was “The Candy Man” by Sammy Davis, Jr., and “I’ll Take You There” by the Staple Singers was at No. 2.

And as we reach our final stop of 1975, we find ourselves a sweet ballad, Melissa Manchester’s “Midnight Blue.” It was the first of an eventual eleven Hot 100 hits for Manchester, with two more bubbling under. It was on its way to No. 6, and it spent two weeks at the top of the magazine’s easy listening chart. And it’s a potent earworm: Just reading the title off the chart this morning, I hear in my head, “Whatever it is, it’ll keep ’til the morning . . .” And it brings back in full the summer of ’75, a great season in the middle of one of the most potent years of my life.

The No. 1 record in the Hot 100 released June 14, 1975, was America’s “Sister Golden Hair.” Parked at No. 2 was “Love Will Keep Us Together” by the Captain & Tenille.

So, as we look for a single for this mid-June Saturday, I have to admit I was a little disappointed in the first three candidates we found. I was on the verge of offering up “Special Delivery” by the 1910 Fruitgum Company simply because it was bubblegum, which doesn’t get a lot of play here. But the instant the first words of “Midnight Blue” sailed into my head, I was lost. And a quick check of the archives tells me that I’ve mentioned the record only twice in twelve-and-a-half years (has it truly been that long?) and have never posted it here.

So here, from the summer of 1975, is Melissa Manchester’s “Midnight Blue,” today’s Saturday Single.