Archive for the ‘Saturday Single’ Category

Saturday Single No. 659

Saturday, September 21st, 2019

The sky is close with clouds this morning. As we ate breakfast, a spattering of rain rattled down onto the deck; with the door open about a foot for the cats to take the morning air, it was loud. I poked my head out, checking on the cats. The only one there was Little Gus, bread-loafing in a lawn chair under the overhang, seemingly unconcerned about the rain.

“If the wind comes up and he gets wet, he’ll come in,” said the Texas Gal.

True enough. And from the looks of the forecast, that might happen as I write: The weather radar shows a band of green approaching us from the west, a band that stretches from near Winnipeg, Manitoba, in the north to the Iowa border in the south. And the Texas Gal suggested that I look this morning for records about rain.

I have likely done so before, but I’d guess it’s been a while, so here goes.

The RealPlayer offers up more than 1,700 tracks with the word “rain” in either the title, the album title, the performers’ name, or somewhere in the notes. We’ll have to do some sorting to get “rain” in the title, and I think we’ll start by sorting those 1,700-some tracks chronologically.

The earliest stuff that comes up tagged with a release or recording year is from the mid-1920s, most of it blues by Ma Rainey. Stuck in the middle of those is “It Ain’t Gonna Rain No Mo’,” a track recorded in July 1925 by Wendell Hall. I recall singing the song – a series of nonsense verses followed by the chorus with the title – at Boy Scout camp and hearing it in vintage cartoons on early 1960s Saturday mornings. It’s intriguing.

But there are no more recent versions of the song in the digital stacks, so on we go, jumping ahead to the 1950s on a whim. And wandering around aimlessly through the listed results, we come upon a tune by one of my favorites, Big Maybelle: “Rain Down Rain.”

The track was recorded on October 29, 1952, and was released as Okeh 6931. It did not make the Billboard R&B Top 40, but it’s good enough for us to be today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 658

Saturday, September 14th, 2019

We’re going back to 1970 again this morning, a year we’ve reviewed in music and events here more often than any other year.

It was, as I’ve said here before, the only full year during which I got my musical fix from Top 40 radio: I began listening in earnest in the late summer of 1969, and by the time the end of 1971 rolled around, I was beginning to listen more to progressive rock and album tracks.

So this morning, we’re going to take the Billboard Hot 100 that lies closest to the mid-point of September 1970 – a time when I was settling into my classes as a high school senior – and look at whatever record might be sitting at No. 100. We’ll start, though, as we customarily do, by taking a look at the Top Ten from that week. Here are those records as listed in the September 19, 1970, edition of the magazine:

“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Diana Ross
“War” by Edwin Starr
“Lookin’ Out My Back Door/As Long As I Can See The Light” by Creedence Clearwater Revival
“Patches” by Clarence Carter
“Julie, Do Ya Love Me” by Bobby Sherman
“25 or 6 to 4” by Chicago
“In The Summertime” by Mungo Jerry
“(They Long To Be) Close To You” by the Carpenters
“Candida” by Dawn
“Make It With You” by Bread

I like nine of those eleven a lot. My only reservations – and those reservations have been in place for forty-nine years – are for the the A-side of the CCR single and for “Patches.” I can hear them clearly in my head as I write, and they’re not malignant earworms, but I’ve just never cared much for them.

The nine others I liked then and still like, some more than others, of course. I have to be in the right mood for “War” and for “In The Summertime” (not the same mood, though). But the others are welcome at any time.

As to the some that I like more than others, five of the lower six in that Top Ten are in the iPod, putting them on the current playlist of 3,900-some tracks. The only one of those lower six that’s missing is “Candida,” which may or may not be added. And I may add the Diana Ross single. I’ll have to think about it.

And now, to our business at the bottom of the Hot 100: We find at that lowest spot a single we’ve written about but that we have not exactly shared here before: Love’s “Alone Again Or.” The track originally showed up on the classic 1967 album Forever Changes (timing out at 3:13.) A shorter version – timed at 2:49 – was released as a single and bubbled under the Hot 100 at No. 123 in the spring of 1968.

In the late summer of 1970, Elektra tried again. The video below is posted on the more or less official Love channel at YouTube and is labeled as the “mono single remix,” so I think this is the right one. The second single release of “Alone Again Or” did only a little better, peaking at No. 99 during a three-week stay on the charts.

In 2011, I tried to figure out which version was the 1970 release and ended up posting here the album track. In a note, friend and chart expert Yah Shure pointed that out and wrote: “In my [Joel] Whitburn Pop Annual, the time listed for the 1970 re-do is 2:50. Under the ’68 single’s entry in my Whitburn Bubbling Under chart book, Joel refers to the 1970 #99 release as ‘an enhanced version,’ and that’s what it really is: embellished with additional instrumentation to pack more of a wallop over the airwaves. The difference between it and the original mix is quite apparent.”

So, is the video below right one or not? I don’t know. In any case, it’s a lovely, whirling taste of psychedelia from Albert Lee & Co., and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 656

Saturday, August 31st, 2019

The end of August hangs in the air this morning, and the first thing that comes to mind is acorns. As readers might recall, our acre-plus lawn on the East Side was blessed with thirty-four oak trees, and every other August or so, the lawn and adjoining street would be covered with acorns. We have none here at the condo; the three trees that guard our southern flank are flowering crab, linden and maple. I kind of miss the acorns.

But there’s more to the end of August than that. I still feel the pull of the school year; the end of the eighth month of the year and the beginning of its ninth still feels to me like a major point, an end and a beginning. That’s laid, no doubt to my long connection with education: one year of Kindergarten followed by twelve years of elementary and secondary education, five years of college, two years of graduate school, five years of college teaching, and about twelve years of newspapering in communities where all things school-related – from board meetings to athletics to the activities of the various clubs – were among the major topics of coverage.

Even though I’ve been long separated from reporting and from school matters, the end of August feels like a gateway into a new time. Things other than reporting and school signal that: Football season is here for the colleges, and my Minnesota Vikings take the field in a little more than a week. And then, autumn is my favorite season, as I’ve noted before. So there are those things.

I got to thinking about August’s endings in the past, and two a decade apart raised their heads: August 1983 when I was about to begin my two years of graduate study at the University of Missouri’s School of Journalism and was concerned about how I’d fit in, and – inevitably – August 1973, when I was just days away from boarding a Finnair jet and heading off for a college year in Denmark, somewhat apprehensive of being away from home for truly the first time.

No such import attaches itself to this August about to end. This has not been an entirely uneventful time: The Texas Gal retired yesterday (though she will return to the same non-governmental organization next week as a part-time employee, armed with the leverage of being able to negotiate her tasks and her hours). Otherwise – and I find this reassuring regarding the tranquility of our current life – the only other news of the month is the welcome installation of a garbage disposal unit in the kitchen.

So how to find a tune? Well, we’re going to play Games With Numbers with today’s date – 8/31/19 – and turn that into 58.Then we’re going to drop into the earlier of those two Augusts that came to mind, 1973, and see what record was at No. 58 as August came to a close. I imagine it will be familiar.

And indeed it is: We fall onto “Ramblin’ Man” by the Allman Brothers Band, a record that was on its way to No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 (and to No. 12 on the magazine’s Easy Listening chart). And it’s appropriate, in that the first time I ever heard “Ramblin’ Man” was in the lounge of the youth hostel where most of us on our Denmark adventure lived for at least a portion of that school year.

But it’s overly familiar, too, so we’re going to make an adjustment and listen to the flip side of the single. That, too, is a track I first heard in that hostel lounge distant in both time and space, but it’s heard less often than the hit record. With that, here’s “Pony Boy,” today’s Saturday Single:

Saturday Single No. 655

Saturday, August 24th, 2019

Puttering on Facebook the other day, I ran across a link to a review of a solo performance by Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues. The performance had taken place in the Chicago area, I believe, so, curious, I clicked the link.

It seemed as if it had been a good show. The titles of the songs Hayward performed – with help from three side musicians – were mostly familiar, and it sounded from the tone of the review that the evening had been very pleasant. Most of the tunes performed were, as one might expect, from the Moody Blues’ catalogue with a few of Hayward’s solo pieces tucked in.

What stuck with me most, though, was the reviewer’s note that only one of the pieces performed was unfamiliar: “Haunted,” from the 1999 Moody Blues release Strange Times. The reviewer said that after the show, he’d hunted down a copy of the album and was generally pleased. I recalled the opposite reaction when I got a CD of the album in 1999.

Strange Times was the first Moody Blues studio release in eight years, since the release of 1991’s Keys of the Kingdom. (There were a few compilations and a live release in those years.) Prior to that, the band had been releasing a studio album every three years or so, back to the release in 1978 of Octave, which had ended a six-year hiatus.

I ordered Strange Times from a CD club, likely as one of the eight I got for a buck each to join the club. I was optimistic, as the last Moody Blues’ album I’d really listened to was Sur La Mer, a 1988 release that was generally good although there were a few tracks on the LP that seemed a little bland. (I hadn’t heard much of Keys of the Kingdom; I bought the album on cassette, as I did not yet have a CD player in the mid-1990s, and rarely popped it into the player; trying to sort out single tracks for relistening is, of course, awkward with cassettes.)

Anyway, when I got Strange Times, I was underwhelmed. Something about it seemed unfinished, and even though I added it to the digital stacks when I got my first ’Networthy computer about six months later, it wasn’t an album I revisited very often. But having read the review the other day of Hayward’s performance, I did two things:

First, I pulled Strange Times from the stacks and put it in the car, where I could listen to it several times as I drove around town on errands. Second, I figured out which Moody Blues CDs were missing from the physical stacks and ordered them: Days of Future Passed (1967), Caught Live + 5 (1977), The Present (1983), Sur La Mer (1988), Keys of the Kingdom (1991), and a collection of the band’s work from the “Go Now” era, which should, I hope, cover both The Magnificent Moodies (1967, U.K.) and Go Now – The Moody Blues #1 (1967, U.S.). Those two earliest albums, from what I’ve read, had each had four tracks that were not on the other release.

So with that, I’ll have a nearly complete Moody Blues studio catalogue. “Nearly,” for a couple of reasons. First, I will not have a physical copy of December. I just don’t do Christmas albums, although I do have the album on the digital shelves.

And then, there are a few studio tracks that seem to be available only on a 1987 collection of rarities titled Prelude, but it’s currently priced too high at any of the online sites I frequent. And I suppose there are things on other collections and box sets that I’ll miss, too. So it goes. I will have the vast majority of the band’s studio output available, and I’m not much concerned about collecting live performances.

So what’s the point of it all? Well, I’m hoping to put together a series of posts about the band and its studio output, perhaps ranking the band’s albums, maybe after separating the albums into those before the 1972-78 hiatus and those after. I don’t know.

I do know that after running through Strange Times a few times in recent weeks, I like the album better than I did twenty years ago. Why? Well, I’ll let the answer to that wait until I figure out how I’m going to assess the band’s work. For now, we’ll start with the track that triggered this project, however it fills out. Here’s “Haunted,” a Justin Hayward-penned track from Strange Times. It’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 653

Saturday, August 10th, 2019

As this month opened, we did here one of our exercises in Symmetry, matching the number of years in the past with a position on the Billboard Hot 100. In that particular case, we were in the year 1963, and we ended up listening to a dismal Al Martino ditty, “Painted Tainted Rose,” that topped off at No. 15 on the Hot 100 and No. 3 on the magazine’s Middle-Road Singles chart, the chart that these days is called Adult Contemporary.

It was a dissatisfying conclusion, as sometimes happens when blindly heading toward specific positions on specific charts. But as we seek a Saturday Single this morning, I thought we’d head back to the summer of 1963 and take a look at the top ten on the Billboard Middle-Road Singles chart during the second week or August.

That’s the kind of stuff that was playing on the radio stations we listened to on Kilian Boulevard at the time, when I was preparing for fifth grade and reading news stories in the Minneapolis Star that I didn’t entirely understand about places like Mississippi and Vietnam. I imagine I’ll recognize some of that top ten and find a tune suitable for an August morning fifty-six years later. So here we go:

“Blowin’ In The Wind” by Peter, Paul & Mary
“More” by Kai Winding
“Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport” by Rolf Harris
“Hopeless” by Andy Williams
“Abilene” by George Hamilton IV
“Green, Green” by the New Christy Minstrels
“Detroit City” by Bobby Bare
“Danke Schoen” by Wayne Newton
“My Whole World Is Falling Down” by Brenda Lee
“True Love Never Runs Smooth” by Gene Pitney

Well, I’m familiar with seven of those, and I’d say I remember four of them from that long-ago season. The three I’m not familiar with by title are those by Andy Williams, Brenda Lee and Gene Pitney; none of the three show up in the digital stacks. (I thought the Pitney might, as I seem to recall scavenging a Pitney anthology once upon a time.) Even after a trip to YouTube, I recall none of the three.

And then there are the three I know most likely from other times: “Danke Schoen,” “Abilene” and “Detroit City.” I know Newton’s single, and I’ve never liked it (just as I’ve never liked anything I’ve heard from Newton, probably because of his voice). I know the song “Abilene,” most likely from a different version, as I have no memory of Hamilton’s version, which was itself a cover of Bob Gibson’s 1957 recording. And I know Bare’s “Detroit City,” but only because I’ve come across it in the many years since. I doubt I knew any of those three back in the summer of 1963.

Then, there are four from that top ten that I generally recall hearing from the radio either at home or at friends’ homes or wherever: “Blowin’ In The Wind,” “More,” “Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport” and “Green, Green.” I recall the Rolf Harris single mostly because I didn’t understand that the word “me” in the title was a possessive; I wondered why the singer wanted to be tied down like a kangaroo.

The other three have been part of my musical environment since that summer, especially the Peter, Paul & Mary and New Christy Minstrels singles. In the case of “More,” I have no doubt recalled the song itself over the years more than the specific single; versions of “More” floated around the easy listening world in amazing numbers. (I once put up a post here that offered the original version of “More” from the film Mondo Cane and eighteen covers of the song.)

Still, when I plunged into music collecting online in early 2000 and came across Winding’s version of the song, I was pretty sure it was the version I recalled hearing when I was a sprout. Call it eighty percent certainty.

As to the other two singles, I’m not sure I need to say anything. I remember hearing them – and liking them – in 1963, and Peter, Paul & Mary have popped up here often enough to make my opinions of them obvious. I also recall assessing “Green, Green” here favorably.

So how to decide between the two records this morning? Well, I’ve featured “Green, Green” here before at least once, and as far as I recall (and I may be wrong), for as many times as I’ve written about the music of Peter, Paul & Mary, their cover of perhaps Bob Dylan’s greatest song has seemingly never been featured here. And it was omnipresent during the summer of 1963. It was No. 1 on the Middle-Road Singles chart for five weeks and went to No. 2 on the Hot 100. And the album from which it was pulled – In The Wind – was No. 1 on the Billboard 200 for five weeks.

So here’s Peter, Paul & Mary’s version of “Blowin’ In The Wind.” It’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 652

Saturday, August 3rd, 2019

During the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Top 40 didn’t always thrill me, as those who’ve been regular readers here know well, so looking at the Billboard Hot 100s from those years doesn’t seem to work when I’m looking around for a topic.

But, I wondered early this morning, what about the Adult Contemporary chart? That’s where KSTP-FM, the station that the Other Half and I listened to most evenings at home, had its niche. And quite often on those long ago evenings, one or the other of us would turn a page in a book or a magazine and say, “Good music tonight.” And the other would murmur an assent.

The station – which called itself KS-95 – used as its tag phrase in the early 1980s something like “The hits of the Sixties, the Seventies and today.” These days that would be a pleasant place to park my radio dial. So lets’ take a look at the AC Top Ten from the first week of August 1979 and see how it would sound today:

“Lead Me On” by Maxine Nightingale
“Morning Dance” by Spyro Gyra
“Mama Can’t Buy You Love” by Elton John
“Shadows In The Moonlight” by Anne Murray
“The Main Event/Fight” by Barbra Streisand
“I’ll Never Love This Way Again” by Dionne Warwick
“Different Worlds” by Maureen McGovern
“Heart Of The Night” by Poco
“When You’re In Love With A Beautiful Woman” by Dr. Hook
“Suspicions” by Eddie Rabbit

Well, this might not have been that good an idea. Many of those titles ring faint bells at best, and most of those I recall clearly would not inspire a murmur of “Good music tonight.” Time to head to YouTube.

Having refreshed my memory, those ten records wouldn’t have been as dismal a stretch as I first thought, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as good as I hoped. I don’t remember fondly the records by Maxine Nightingale, Barbra Streisand, Dionne Warwick or Dr. Hook, and I’m not that sure about the Eddie Rabbit single. As it happens, the only one of those five that I find among the 78,000 tracks in the main digital archive is “Suspicions,” and its low bit rate tells me that I grabbed it early in my excavations of the ’Net when I was not being at all particular. I’ll have to listen to it again and see what I think.

How about the others? Four of them are okay, but the only record I really like there is “Heart Of The Night,” which turns out to be the only one of that bunch that’s on the digital shelves here. (It’s also the only one of those ten that’s in my current listening on the iPod.)

As it happens, “Heart Of The Night” has been mentioned here only once in these twelve years, and that was in passing. That’s a little surprising. It went to No 20 in the Billboard Hot 100, and forty years ago this week, it was at No. 8 on the AC chart, heading down after peaking at No. 5.

I imagine that those who celebrate Poco for its country rock of the late 1960s and early 1970s find “Heart Of The Night” to be a weak reminder of what the band once was. It’s true that it’s neither very adventurous nor really very country-ish (beyond some twang in the guitars). But it’s a lovely record and its first lines set a tone that – even if I have almost entirely ignored the record in this space – I still find affecting:

In the heart of the night
In the cool Southern rain
There’s a full moon in sight
Shining down on the Pontchartrain

And it’s today’s Saturday Single:

Saturday Single No. 651

Saturday, July 27th, 2019

Okay, so 651 is an area code around here, mostly covering St. Paul and the eastern suburbs of the Twin Cities area. What else is 651?

Well, it was a year, of course. And in the year 651, Wikipedia says (noting that it’s an approximate date), King Clovis II of Neustria and Burgundy married Balthild, an Anglo-Saxon aristocrat sold into slavery in Gaul. She had been owned by one Erchinoald, Clovis’ mayor of the palace. Erchinoald, says the website, gave Balthild to Clovis, hoping to curry favor with the king.

Also in 651, according to Wikipedia:

In the Arabian Empire, “The Qur’an is compiled by Caliph Uthman ibn Affan in its present form. The text become(s) the model from which copies are made and promulgated throughout the urban centers of the Arab world.”

The Hôtel-Dieu de Paris is founded by Saint Landry. Still in existence, it is the oldest hospital in the city.

King Yazdegerd III of Persia is murdered by his followers in a miller’s hut near the city of Merv (a major oasis on the Silk Road). His murder ends both Persian resistance to Arab conquest and the existence of the Sassanid Empire.

That’s about it for the year of 651, except for the death of Aidan, the bishop of Lindisfarne, who founded the famed monastery on the holy island off the northeast coast of England.

And that tumbles us easily into Lindisfarne, the English folk-rock band that hailed from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, about sixty miles south of the island. So here’s “Run For Home,” a lush ballad from the group’s 1979 album Back & Fourth. It’s today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 650

Saturday, July 20th, 2019

I’m here briefly and woozily, following a night of poor sleep and heading into a day of a few unavoidable tasks. So this is a place-holder, just to show people that I was here today.

And since it is July 20, the fiftieth anniversary of Neil Armstrong’s “One small step,” I’m going with a moon song. I could have dressed it up with memories of that remarkable evening half a century ago, but you know, I have no great insights about that evening, at least on this rainy, blurry morning.

We sat in the living room – Mom, Dad, my sister and I – and, like everyone else, watched those ghostly figures move around on the moondust. I knew I was watching a miracle of science and courage, but beyond that, I got nothing this morning.

So here’s a somewhat moon-related tune I’ve been hearing a lot lately, as I listen to my new Jimmie Spheeris CD – it offers his first two albums, 1971’s Isle Of View and 1973’s The Original Tap Dancing Kid – as I wander through my errands. This is “Moon On The Water” from the 1973 album, and it’s today’s Saturday Single.

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.

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.