Archive for the ‘What’s At No. 100?’ Category

What’s At No. 100? (Album Edition)

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2020

We spent some time last week looking at the Billboard Easy Listening chart from the third week of 1970. It’s time, I thought, to look at the top ten albums from the Billboard 200 from fifty years ago, by now the fourth week of that long-ago month and then to play an album version of “What’s At No. 100?”

Here’s that Top Ten, published July 25, 1970:

Woodstock soundtrack
Let It Be by the Beatles
McCartney by Paul McCartney
Self Portrait by Bob Dylan
Blood, Sweat &  Tears 3
ABC by the Jackson 5
Déjà Vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
Closer to Home by Grand Funk Railroad
Live At Leeds by the Who
Chicago II

At the time that Top Ten came out, two of those albums were already in my box of LPs in the basement rec room: Let It Be and the silver-jacketed album Billboard calls Chicago II. (The 1970 LP edition and the 2002 CD reissue, both on my shelves, call the album simply Chicago.) In October 1970, Déjà Vu would join them.

Eventually, five of the remaining seven would make their ways during the years 1987 to 2000 onto the LP shelves. The two that have never been here are the Jackson 5 and Grand Funk Railroad albums (although two tracks from the Jackson 5 album and the title track from the Grand Funk Railroad album are in the digital stacks.)

And tracks from seven of those albums are among the 2,700 tracks currently in the iPod (with Déjà Vu, Chicago, and Let It Be most represented). It’s easier to list the three that don’t have any tracks among my day-to-day listening: The albums by the Who, the Jackson 5 and BST.

Now on to our putative main business, checking out the album at No. 100. Turns out to be album I’ve never owned nor been much interested in, but it was home to one of my favorite singles of 1970, “Reflections Of My Life,” a No. 10 record that gave the album its title (at least in the U.S.A.): Reflections Of My Life by the Marmalade.

The album version of the track runs longer than the single I recall hearing from my RCA radio (and there may be more differences than length), and – as usually happens – I do not see any videos of the single version at YouTube. Nor do I have the single, so we’ll listen to the album track as offered by the Marmalade’s account at the website:

And since we’re dabbling with the Billboard 200 today, I thought we might as well drop all the way to the bottom and see what was lurking at No. 200. There, we find an album that I occasionally saw during my record digging days in the 1990s but that I always passed by for something else: Struttin’ by the Meters.

A single from the album, “Chicken Strut,” showed up a couple of months ago when we were playing “What’s At No. 50?” so we’re just going to give a listen to the flip side, “Hey! Last Minute.”

A Quick Look at No. 100 (July 1970)

Friday, July 3rd, 2020

Having been sidetracked by household duties this morning, I was going to let things slide here, but I nevertheless took a look at the Billboard Hot 100 from the first week of July 1970, fifty years ago.

And, as I do, I took a quick look at No. 100, and I was startled to see “Eve Of Destruction” by the Turtles. Really? In 1970?

I mean, the world wasn’t puppies and roses in 1970 by any measure, but Barry McGuire’s No. 1 hit with the song came in 1965, and five years in pop music and radio terms is an eternity. And things got even more strange when I looked at versions of the song at Second Hand Songs because the Turtles were among the first to record the song in 1965.

The website lists songs by release and lists McGuire’s version as the first released in August 1965. Then comes P.F. Sloan in September, and in October, the Turtles’ version came out on their It Ain’t Me, Babe album (as did a version by a Danish group called Sir Henry & His Butlers).

So the question hangs in the air: Why release an album track from 1965 as a single in 1970, especially of such a topical (and idiosyncratic) song? Whatever the reason was, it didn’t work, as the record spent two weeks at No. 100 and then sank from sight. (It was the Turtles’ last record to hit the Hot 100. In November 1970, “Me About You” bubbled under for three weeks, peaking at No. 105).

Here’s the Turtles’ “Eve Of Destruction.”

And I’m going to offer here the heavily accented cover from 1965 by Sir Henry & His Butlers. I’m especially amused by the enunciation of the letter “v” with a “w” sound (“wiolence” and “woting” instead of “violence” and “voting”). It reminds me of life with my host family in Denmark; during the autumn of 1973, my host mother Oda would see me reading the International Herald-Tribune on Tuesdays and – knowing of my interest in Minnesota’s professional football team – would ask me, “How did the Wikings do this week?”

Saturday Single No. 694

Saturday, June 27th, 2020

So what do I think of when I see No. 694? Well, I think of the Twin Cities’ Interstate Highway 694, the half-loop that crosses the Twin Cities’ northern and eastern suburbs, providing a way for drivers to avoid I-94’s route through the downtowns of both St. Paul and Minneapolis.

I’ve driven portions of 694 probably hundreds of times, and I lived near it twice, first during the winter of 1975-76, when I was a sports intern for an independent television station in the suburb of Golden Valley, and then during the autumn and winter of 1991-92, when I was beginning my work at the Eden Prairie News, a paper – as I noted not long ago – that no longer exists.

Musically, the earlier time period is more interesting, but of course, it’s not winter right now. We are in the early days of summer, the early days of one of most confounding, confusing and worrisome summers I can ever remember. It’s quite a contrast to the summer of ’75, my last undergraduate summer, when I was twenty-one, knew what I was doing, knew where I was going, and thought I knew what I would find there when I arrived.

Hah!

So let’s twist this up and take a look at the top ten in the Billboard Hot 100 for the fourth week of June 1975, when – except for having a steady girl – absolute certainty ruled my life:

“Love Will Keep Us Together” by the Captain & Tennille
“When Will I Be Loved/It Doesn’t Matter Anymore” by Linda Ronstadt
“Wildfire” by Michael (Martin) Murphey
“I’m Not Lisa” by Jessi Colter
“Love Won’t Let Me Wait” by Major Harris
“The Hustle” by Van McCoy & The Soul City Symphony
“Listen To What The Man Said” by Paul McCartney & Wings
“Get Down, Get Down (Get On The Floor)” by Joe Simon
“Magic” by Pilot
“Cut The Cake” by the Average White Band

Boy, those first eight singles are imprinted musically and with memories, the Ronstadt double-sided single a little less than the other six. They remind me of working with my pal Murl and the rest of the inventory crew, cruising through my four physical education courses and my last general eds, hanging around The Table with a slightly changed cast (summer sessions were different), sipping coffee at the Country Kitchen with a variety of young women . . .

It was one of the great summers of my life, now forty-five years in the past.

As to the last three of that Top Ten, I remember the records by Pilot (currently adapted to sell a pharmaceutical) and the Average White Band, but they never meant much to me. And I had to go to YouTube this morning to verify that I don’t recall the Joe Simon single. My listening those days was mostly WJON and WCCO-FM on the radio, and the jukebox at the student union, and I don’t think those three gave the Simon a lot of play.

So, how many of those seven records are on my day-to-day playlist forty-five years later? Let’s look at the iPod (still a work in progress after firing up the new computer). Turns out that only the Jessi Colter single got into the device during the early sessions. But by the end of the morning, five more of those in that Top Ten – the rest of the top seven except the Ronstadts – will be in the device.

Our final business this morning, as long as we’re here, will be to look at the bottom rung of that long-ago Hot 100 and see what we find. And I’m reminded that no matter how long I’ve dug into music, there will always be something new to find. The No. 100 record forty-five years ago this week was “What Time Of Day” by Billy Thunderkloud & The Chieftones.

Thunderkloud and his band were a country group made up of First Nations musicians from British Columbia, and they were backed on the single – obviously – by a children’s chorus. It’s a pleasant little tune but no more than that, and it peaked at only No. 92 on the Hot 100. It did better than that on the other charts, getting to No. 32 on the magazine’s Easy Listening chart and to No. 16 on the country chart. (Later in the year, the group hit No. 37 on the country chart with “Pledging My Love,” a cover of the 1955 hit for both Johnny Ace and Theresa Brewer.)

Here’s “What Time Of Day.”

What’s At No. 100? (June 1972)

Wednesday, June 10th, 2020

It’s been a while since we looked a chart from 1972, so let’s pull up the Billboard Top Ten from June 10 of that year – exactly forty-eight years ago today – and then head to the bottom slot in that week’s Hot 100.

Here’s the Top Ten:

“The Candy Man” by Sammy Davis, Jr.
“I’ll Take You There” by the Staple Singers
“Oh Girl” by the Chi-Lites
“Song Sung Blue” by Neil Diamond
“Sylvia’s Mother” by Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show
“Nice To Be With You” by Gallery
“The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” by Roberta Flack
“Morning Has Broken” by Cat Stevens
“Outta-Space/I Wrote A Simple Song” by Billy Preston
“(Last Night) I Didn’t Get To Sleep At All” by the 5th Dimension

Well. That’s not a very inspiring set of eleven singles. The only one of those that grips me very hard at all these days is “I’ll Take You There.” The Chi-Lites’ single was a favorite back then, and I still like the singles by Neil Diamond, Gallery and Roberta Flack (although that last wore its welcome out in 1972 and is still on some form of repetition probation).

None of the others matter one way or the other except for “The Candy Man,” which approaches “Seasons In The Sun” territory on the “The First Time Ever I Heard The Record I Hated It” scale. I turned nineteen that year, and the presence at No. 1 of the “The Candy Man” in the spring and then Chuck Berry’s “My Ding-A-Ling” in the autumn taught me at that early age to be skeptical of the tastes of the masses.

So how many of those records matter to me today? Normally, we’d take a look here at the contents of my iPod. But since I got a new computer and had to reload things, the iPod is being balky, so we’ll look at the iTunes library and its 2,800-or so tracks, which remains a work in progress. How many of those eleven singles are in my day-to-day listening?

Right now, four: The records by Gallery, Robert Flack, Cat Stevens and the Billy Preston A-side are there. Likely joining them as the library is re-seeded will be the Staple Singers, the Chi-Lites and Neil Diamond. The 5th Dimension? Maybe.

Now, on to our supposed main business here: The record at No. 100 forty-eight years ago today. And we come across one of Petula Clark’s last records to make the Hot 100, her cover of Mary Wells’ No. 1 hit from 1964, “My Guy.” Clark’s cover went to No. 70 in the Hot 100 and to No. 12 in the Billboard Easy Listening chart.

Clark would have two more records in the Hot 100: Her cover of Noel Paul Stookey’s “Wedding Song (There Is Love)” would go to No. 61 in the autumn of 1972, and “Natural Love” would get to No. 66 in 1982. Both of those would hit the Easy Listening chart (at Nos. 9 and 24, respectively), and “Natural Love” would be Clark’s only entry on the country chart, going to No. 20.

Here’s her take on “My Guy.”

What’s At No. 100 (May 1971)

Wednesday, May 27th, 2020

We’re gonna look around in late May of 1971 today, forty-nine years ago. It was that week or the next – my memory fails me and I don’t want to dig for documentation – when I put on a blue cap and gown and graduated from St. Cloud Tech High School. (I also wore an orange and black woven cord, signifying that I was graduating with honors, a fact that baffled me and surprised and pleased my parents.)

Here’s the Billboard Top Fifteen from May 29, 1971:

“Brown Sugar” by the Rolling Stones
“Joy To The World” by Three Dog Night
“Never Can Say Goodbye” by the Jackson 5
“Wants Ads” by the Honey Cone
“It Don’t Come Easy” by Ringo Starr
“Put Your Hand In The Hand” by Ocean
“Bridge Over Troubled Water/Brand New Me” by Aretha Franklin
“Sweet And Innocent” by Donny Osmond
“Me And You And A Dog Named Boo” by Lobo
“Chick-A-Boom (Don’t Ya Jes’ Love It)” by Daddy Dewdrop
“Rainy Days And Mondays” by the Carpenters
“Love Her Madly” by the Doors
“If” by Bread
“Superstar” by Murray Head & The Trinidad Singers
“I Don’t Know How To Love Him” by Helen Reddy

There’s some good radio in there. Let’s take them five at a time:

Three of the first five are five-star records: “Brown Sugar,” “Joy To The World,” and “It Don’t Come Easy.” And the other two – the Jackson 5 and the Honey Cone singles – are not far behind. But then, this was a time when top 40 radio was my musical focus, and it’s hard to separate the times from the music that was the soundtrack for those times. And my senior year of high school, though it had its challenges, was a pretty good time.

The next five are a little tougher. The Ocean record no longer speaks to me, and I never liked Donny Osmond’s single. Daddy Dewdrop was a hoot, but not one with legs, and the Lobo record, well, I don’t mind hearing it, but it’s not a big deal. The A-side of the Aretha record is a great performance, but I found it later and don’t remember it at all from 1971. (My digging at Oldiesloon seems to say that the record did not get into the survey at the Twin Cities’ KDWB’s but I’m not sure.)

Finally, the five records at Nos. 11 through 15: I liked all five and still do, though the order in which I’d rank them has changed in nearly fifty years. Back in 1971, I likely put “Love Her Madly” at the top of that small heap; today, I’d put either “If” or “Rainy Days And Mondays” there. And seeing the Helen Reddy record in a springtime chart feels odd. I heard it on the radio, sure, but I heard it a lot more the next autumn coming from many rooms in the two women’s dorms I visited at St. Cloud State, so it feels like a college-time record more than one that comes from my high school days.

Usually, at this point I check the records in the chart against my iPod, but I got a new computer last week and I am still in the process of reloading about 3,900 tracks into iTunes and the iPod from the 80,000-some in my main music files. So we’ll see which ones are among the 2,900 or so in the device right now and I’ll make some notes as to which of the remainder will get there, too.

Right now, of the top five, the Stones, Ringo and Three Dog Night are in the device. Honey Cone and the Jackson 5 will follow.

None of the second five are in the iPod, but Lobo likely will be, once I get to the “L” folder, and the Aretha A-side might, depending on my mood, when I get to “F.” Donny Osmond, Daddy Dewdrop and Ocean? No.

From the final set of five, “If” and “Superstar” have already made the cut. The Carpenters and the Doors likely will follow. I did the second half of the alphabet first this time, so I’ve already passed on the Helen Reddy single, but I may change my mind. I did pull in four of her tracks already (“Ain’t No Way To Treat A Lady,” “Angie Baby,” “Don’t Make Promises,” and “Somewhere In The Night”).

And then, there’s our nominally main business today: Checking out the single at No. 100 in that long-ago chart. And it’s “Love Means (You Never Have To Say You’re Sorry)” by the Sounds Of Sunshine. We’ve run across it before. Finding it inspired the following (edited a bit):

The Sounds Of Sunshine were actually three brothers from the Los Angeles area – Walt, Warner and George Wilder – and the sound they offered on their only hit record owed a lot to the Lettermen and the Sandpipers (and probably a few other vocal groups that don’t come to mind at the moment).

For a one-shot hit, the record did pretty well, peaking at No. 39 in the Hot 100 and at No. 5 on the Adult Contemporary chart. The album from which the single was pulled got to No. 187 on the Billboard 200.

The source of the song – written by Warner Wilder – is, of course, the most famous line from the movie Love Story, a 1970 film “about a girl who died” co-starring Ryan O’Neal and Ali McGraw. In the film, after the two lovers have a spat, McGraw’s character tells O’Neal’s, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

The line became the 1970s equivalent of a meme: It was impossible to avoid and to ignore. Originated by Erich Segal, who wrote both the screenplay and the novel on which the film is based, the famous line is, however, bullshit.

Now, pop culture offers all sorts of twaddle to its audiences as wisdom. Listeners, viewers and readers can, if they are so moved, pull epigrams or advice on living well from almost any bit of pop culture ephemera. (Well, “Disco Duck” might be a stretch.) And if those epigrams help those pop culture consumers make their ways through the crabgrass of life, that’s just fine.

But I think that a large swath of the Baby Boomer demographic closed Segal’s book or walked up the theater aisle during the closing credits of the movie with the thought circling through their minds that maybe love really does mean never having to say you’re sorry. I wonder how many college relationships foundered because one or the other of the individuals involved held to the wisdom of Segal and McGraw during a disagreement when a simple “I’m sorry” would have repaired a lot of damage.

Well, maybe not all that many. I don’t know. I’m sure there were those who thought “Love means never having to say you’re sorry” was a sweetly romantic idea, but I’d also like to think that most of those folks realized that what works in the movies rarely works in real life. For my part, I was not all that experienced in what worked in love at the time, but even at seventeen, I knew that a philosophy of no apologies would be more nearly lethal than nurturing to a romantic coupling.

Ah, well, it’s a line from a movie that inspired Warner Wilder to write a pretty song. If we dismissed all the songs based on bullshit, then the pop charts would be a lot shorter and not nearly as much fun.

That’s probably much more than you wanted this morning. Here’s the Sounds Of Sunshine single:

No. 46 Forty-Six Years Ago

Wednesday, May 20th, 2020

We’re going to fire up the Symmetry machine this morning and jump back to the third week of May in 1974. Why then? Because it was during that week – on May 21, to be precise – that I returned to Minnesota after my college year in Denmark. I don’t think I’ve ever looked to see what was atop the Billboard Hot 100 at the time (And if I have, it was evidently so long ago that another look won’t hurt.)

Here’s the Top Fifteen as of May 18, 1974, three days before our St. Cloud State contingent got onto a Finnair jet in Copenhagen to come home.

“The Streak” by Ray Stevens
“Dancing Machine” by the Jackson 5
“The Entertainer” by Marvin Hamlisch
“The Loco-Motion” by Grand Funk
“The Show Must Go On” by Three Dog Night
“Bennie & The Jets” by Elton John
“Band On The Run” by Paul McCartney & Wings
“Midnight At The Oasis” by Maria Muldaur
“(I’ve Been) Searching So Long” by Chicago
“You Make Me Feel Brand New” by the Stylistics
“TSOP (The Sound Of Philadelphia)” by MFSB feat. The Three Degrees
“I Won’t Last A Day Without You” by the Carpenters
“Tubular Bells” by Mike Oldfield
“Help Me” by Joni Mitchell
“Just Don’t Want To Be Lonely” by the Main Ingredient

Let’s take these five at a time. The top five has three sure station-turners (assuming one would ever hear them on an oldies station while in the car these days): the singles by Stevens, Grand Funk and Three Dog Night. None of Stevens’ work has aged well in this corner of the universe; “The Loco-Motion” shows Grand Funk at its sludgiest and most boring; and “The Show Must Go On” just feels silly, not nearly up to the level of Three Dog Night’s work from the years 1969 to 1971.

That leaves two of those five: “Dancing Machine” and “The Entertainer.” They aren’t gems, but hearing them once in a while is fine.

The next five are a different matter altogether. Any of those can pop into my ear anytime they want, even the Chicago, despite some of the things I’ve said about the band’s mid-Seventies work. My favorite among those would be “Midnight At The Oasis,” which was the fuse for my fascination with Muldaur’s oeuvre: Between vinyl and CD, I have six of her albums; those albums and more make up the more than 200 tracks from Muldaur on the digital shelves.

The bottom five of the list above is not quite as stellar: I don’t mind the Carpenters’ single, but it’s not something I seek out; and I cannot recall the last time I heard the “Tubular Bells” single. I do recall listening to Oldfield’s Tubular Bells album on occasional Sunday mornings in Missouri as I read newspapers from Columbia, Kansas City, St. Louis, Chicago and New York. The album is probably still here – and both sides of the single are likely on the digital shelves – but I don’t really go looking for any of it.

On the other hand, “TSOP,” “Help Me,” and “Just Don’t Want To Be Lonely” are welcome here any time at all.

So let’s use our usual measuring stick on those fifteen. How many of them are among the 3,900-some tracks on my iPod and thus are among my day-to-day listening? Well none of the top five are there, and four of the second five are, all except the Stylistics’ single. Two of the bottom five – the Mitchell and Main Ingredient tracks – are there, and “TSOP” should be.

So all in all, that’s not a bad Top Fifteen.

And now to our other business. What was at No. 46 forty-six years ago? Well, these things sometimes happen, as we land on a record that I didn’t like then and I still don’t like: John Denver’s “Sunshine On My Shoulders.” The record was on its way back down the chart after peaking at No. 1 at the end of March. At least I wasn’t around when the record was in heavy rotation on the radio. Here it is:

What’s At No. 100? (January 1965)

Tuesday, January 28th, 2020

I thought that today we’d venture fifty-five years back and look at the Billboard Hot 100 from the last week of January 1965, checking out the Top Ten and then dropping down to the last spot in the chart.

Here’s the Top Ten:

“Downtown” by Petula Clark
“You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” by the Righteous Brothers
“The Name Game” by Shirley Ellis
“Love Potion Number Nine” by the Searchers
“Hold What You’ve Got” by Joe Tex
“How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You” by Marvin Gaye
“This Diamond Ring” by Gary Lewis & The Playboys
“Come See About Me” by the Supremes
“Keep Searchin’ (We’ll Follow The Sun)” by Del Shannon
“All Day And All Of The Night” by the Kinks

Well, I was eleven and in sixth grade when these records ruled, and there are only three of those ten that I can say with certainty I remember from the time: “Downtown” was pervasive; whether one liked it or derided it, you knew the hook. “This Diamond Ring” for some reason wended its way into my memory. I still like both of those. And I recall “The Name Game,” which I detest. I suppose I heard “Greg, Greg, Popeg . . .” once too often (though I have no direct memory of the event).

Six of the other seven, I’ve learned about over the years. The one exception, the one record I had to seek out today to see if it were familiar, is “Keep Searchin’ (We’ll Follow The Sun).” It turns out to be on the digital shelves, and it’s not an awful record, but it’s not at all familiar, except for the sound of the cheesy organ solo.

So, using as our measuring stick the 3,900-odd tracks in the iPod, do any of those records matter today?

It turns out that four of them do: “Downtown,” “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’,” “This Diamond Ring,” and “Come See About Me.” And I don’t see that I’d add any of the other six to the device.

But what about our other business here? When we drop to the bottom of the Hot 100 from the last week of January 1965, what do we find?

Well, we find a version of a favorite tune that I did not know about until this morning: “Goldfinger” by Jack La Forge, His Piano & Orchestra. The record was in its first week on the chart, and it would hang around for another four weeks, peaking at No. 96 (and reaching No. 20 on the magazine’s easy listening chart).

It was the only charting record for LaForge, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. His entry at discogs.com lists eighteen singles, most of them on the Regina label. Joel Whitburn tells us in the 2009 edition of Top Pop Singles that LaForge was born in 1924 in Manhattan. Neither Whitburn nor discogs list a death date, and a little bit of digging this morning yielded nothing. The man would be ninety-five today.

It’s a decent easy listening version of the song.

What’s At No. 100? (December 1969)

Monday, December 2nd, 2019

We’re back after a week filled with snow, a holiday and more snow. We probably got eleven or so inches of snow here, though the official count for the city showed less. And the two storms were sandwiched around Thanksgiving; we made our customary trip to Maple Grove, fifty miles away, and celebrated with my sister, her husband and their son.

And all we’re going to accomplish in this corner today is a brief post looking back again at the late autumn of 1969, checking out the Billboard Hot 100 from around this time during that season, looking at the Top Ten and then dropping down to the bottom of the chart.

The Top Ten fifty years ago this week was:

“Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye” by Steam
“Leaving On A Jet Plane” by Peter, Paul & Mary
“Come Together/Something” by the Beatles
“Take A Letter Maria” by R.B. Greaves
“Down On The Corner/Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival
“And When I Die” by Blood, Sweat & Tears
“Wedding Bell Blues” by the 5th Dimension
“Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yesterday” by Stevie Wonder
“Some Day We’ll Be Together” by the Supremes
“Eli’s Coming” by Three Dog Night

Well, wow. That’s fifty minutes of living in a country long gone but still present. I’ve probably written, sometimes at length, about all twelve of those records singly – certainly about most of them – but seeing them stacked like 45s in sequence leaves me, well, wordless. I remember how I felt back then – the only record from that time that would make this stack more potent would be Lou Christie’s “I’m Gonna Make You Mine”* – but trying to put that into words this morning is a task I cannot accomplish.

And that’s a reminder that back then – fifty years ago – a lot of my life ran through music, mostly through the radio but increasingly through LPs and cassettes as well: I had the Beatles’ two singles and the Blood, Sweat & Tears record on tapes and the 5th Dimension single on an LP. I was listening to the same music as my peers, and that was new to me. The autumn of my junior year was, in most ways, a fine time.

And as if I need confirmation that those records mattered to me and still do, every one of those twelve singles has a place among the 3,900 or so tracks in the iPod.

But what of our other business today? What do we find lurking on the lowest rung of the Hot 100 from fifty years ago this week? We find a rarity, a record that spent one week at No. 100 and then went away forever: “Camel Back” by a group called A.B. Skhy. And as it happens, we’ve dabbled in this Hot 100 before, about six years ago. Here’s what I wrote about A.B. Skhy and “Camel Back” then:

In Top Pop Singles, Joel Whitburn notes that the group came from San Francisco, but the notes at the video I found this morning indicate a significant Wisconsin background for the group, and Wikipedia in fact says that the group began in Milwaukee during the late 1960s as New Blues. Once in California and playing as A. B. Skhy, the original lineup – along with a seven-piece horn section, according to William Ruhlmann of All Music Guide – recorded one self-titled album for MGM and released the one single, which was written by the group’s keyboard player, Howard Wales. (After some personnel changes, the group recorded and released a second album in 1970.)

That was six years ago, and that’s long enough for the record to have a second listen here. Here’s “Camel Back” by A.B. Skhy:

*It turns out that Christie’s record had left the Hot 100 after the November 8 chart.

What’s At No. 100? (November 19, 1977)

Tuesday, November 19th, 2019

Of all the Billboard pop charts released on November 19 over the years – based on a quick glance this morning (meaning I might have missed something) – none falls into my sweet spot, into the time between the summer of 1969 and the beginning of 1976. The closest are the Hot 100s that were released in 1966 and 1977.

I was thirteen and in eighth grade at the time the first one of those came out and twenty-four, living in the little burg of Sauk Rapids and working for a government agency in St. Cloud at the time of the second. And the data tell me that we’ve dabbled in 1966 eighty-five times since February 2010 and in 1977 only forty-eight times. So we’ll look at the Hot 100 from November 19, 1977, forty-two years ago today, and play our game of “What’s At No. 100?”

First of all, here’s the Top Ten:

“You Light Up My Life” by Debby Boone
“Boogie Nights” by Heatwave
“Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue” by Crystal Gayle
“It’s Ecstasy When You Lay Down Beside Me” by Barry White
“Baby, What A Big Surprise” by Chicago
“How Deep Is Your Love” by the Bee Gees
“Heaven On The 7th Floor” by Paul Davis
“We’re All Alone” by Rita Coolidge
“Blue Bayou” by Linda Ronstadt
“Nobody Does It Better” by Carly Simon

Listening this morning, I don’t recall the Barry White record at all, and the only reason I recognize “Boogie Nights” is because I sought out the Heatwave album Too Hot To Handle in the late 1990s when Chazz Nelson – Prince’s cousin – recommended it to me. (Most of Chazz’s tips were on target; that one wasn’t.) The rest of those, I remember well. Too well, in a few cases.

I liked five from that list mid-November 1977, when my radio listening was pretty much limited to drive time to and from work and a little bit of time in the evening puttering in my rented room in Sauk Rapids (unless I joined the other guys in the house in the living room for an evening of television). No doubt, I heard all of them except the White and the Heatwave more often after I moved to Monticello in just a week and spent more time in the car driving from one reporting assignment to another.

Anyway, the five records I liked were those by Crystal Gayle, the Bee Gees, Rita Coolidge, Linda Ronstadt and Carly Simon. The Paul Davis and Chicago records I can take or leave these days, and I heard “You Light Up My Life” often enough back then to never need to hear it again. (It shows up on the digital shelves only as a cover by Ferrante & Teicher.)

How many of those records matter today? Well, of the five I liked back in the late 1970s, four show up in my current listening on the iPod. The one that’s missing is Carly Simon’s “Nobody Does It Better.” I think it will stay that way.

So let’s look at our other business today and check out the record at No. 100 in that Hot 100 from forty-two years ago today. Well, it’s a record I’ve almost certainly never heard from a group that’s only been mentioned twice here in the more than twelve years I’ve been throwing stuff at the walls: “Georgia Rhythm” by the Atlanta Rhythm Section.

ARS was, of course, a group that evolved from a cluster of Georgia studio musicians. Their biggest hits were “So Into You” (No. 7 in 1977) and “Imaginary Lover” (No. 7 in 1978). Three of their albums came home with me during my vinyl madness period in 1999 and 2000, but the only thing that’s ever made its way to the digital shelves is the 1974 single “Angel.” I’m not at all sure how it got there.

So here’s “Georgia Rhythm.” It’s not bad, kind of reminds me of a smoother Larry Jon Wilson, which I guess makes some sense. It didn’t do well on the chart, peaking at No. 68.

What’s At No. 100? (August 1969)

Thursday, August 29th, 2019

It was in August 1969, as I’ve noted before, that I went down to the basement one evening and adopted my grandfather’s old RCA radio, which had been sitting on a shelf near my dad’s workbench, mostly unused, for some time. (As I think about it this morning, the radio might not actually have been that old: I vaguely recall that Grandpa had won it in a contest or something and didn’t need it, so he gave it to us, and it went on the shelf in the basement, obviously waiting for me to need it.)

I was just becoming interested in pop/rock radio in August 1969, so I asked if I could bring the brown and white radio up to my room. Dad had another radio by his workbench (always tuned to the country sounds of WVAL in nearby Sauk Rapids), so the RCA became mine.

So, as August 2019 nears its end, I thought we’d play What’s At No. 100, taking a look at the Billboard Hot 100 from the last week of August fifty years ago. But since we looked a 1969 Top Ten the other week when considering Woodstock Weekend, we’ll do things a bit differently this time. We’ll look at the records at No. 10, No. 20, and so on until we get to No. 100. Most of the records we chance on, I assume, will be familiar; some may not. (The number in parentheses at the end of each entry is its peak in the Hot 100.)

No. 10: “Crystal Blue Persuasion” by Tommy James & The Shondells (No. 2)
No. 20: “Workin’ On a Groovy Thing”: by the 5th Dimension (No. 20)
No. 30: “I Can’t Get Next To You” by the Temptations (No. 1)
No. 40: “It’s Getting Better” by Mama Cass (No. 30)
No. 50: “Simple Song Of Freedom: by Tim Hardin (No. 50)
No. 60: “Lowdown Popcorn” by James Brown (No. 41)
No. 70: “Ease Back” by the Meters (No. 61)
No. 80: “You, I” by the Rugbys (No. 24)
No. 90: “I Want You To Know” by the New Colony Six (No. 65)

The first four of those are familiar, of course, with the 5th Dimension single being more familiar back then from my having the album than from radio play. I noted the other week that I had to go to YouTube to refresh my memory of the Mama Cass single.

The lower five of that list, though, are fuzzy shading to blank. I doubt that I’ve ever heard the Tim Hardin single until today, although I’ve heard covers of the tune by Bob Darin and by the Voices Of East Harlem. I’ve also likely never heard “Lowdown Popcorn” or “Ease Back” until today, which is a result of my digital shelves having not nearly music from James Brown or the Meters. Too much music, too little time.

The Rugbys’ fuzz-charged single is vaguely familiar only because I came upon it not quite ten years ago when I dug into a WDGY survey from September 1969, and “I Want You To Know” is, again, only vaguely familiar.

So that didn’t go so well. But what’s at the bottom of the chart, right at No. 100? Well, we find a piece of funky blues from B.B. King, “Get Off My Back Woman.” That one is on the digital shelves here although I’m not at all certain where I found it. And it was received by listeners about the way most of his singles were received: It peaked at No. 74 on the Hot 100 and went to No. 32 – a little lower than I would have guessed – on the magazine’s R&B chart. (In just a few months, though, King would release the biggest hit of his career, “The Thrill Is Gone,” which went to No. 15 on the Hot 100.)

Chart success or not, “Get Off My Back Woman” is exactly what you want a B.B. King record to be: funky, melodic and plaintive.