Archive for the ‘1970’ Category

Survey Digging, California Style

Friday, August 10th, 2018

Sometime after World War II, one of my dad’s five sisters – Evelyn – moved to California, where her husband – my Uncle Bill – got into some kind of advertising or promotion business in Los Angeles. They had two kids, a girl and a boy, each about a year older than my sister and me.

Sometime in the late 1950s, another aunt and uncle – Dad’s sister Francis and her husband – headed to California, too. They settled in Oxnard, where my Uncle Newell was a dentist. They, too, had a pair of kids, a girl and a boy, a bit closer in age to me and my sister but still a bit older than we were.

I used to daydream about a California vacation, about visiting those distant relatives in that golden state, about getting to know my cousins better, and about seeing all the things in California that I saw on television and in the magazines and movies. But a California vacation was out of the reach of a state college teacher’s salary in the 1960s and early 1970s, and anyway, Dad’s sisters and their husbands and their kids made their ways back to Minnesota every couple of years, so we didn’t really have to go all the way west to see our relatives.

Digression: As did many kids I knew, I dreamed of going to Disneyland. Every week as we watched the Disney television show – always in black and white on Kilian Boulevard – I’d see the shots of people having an incredibly fun time at the park in Anaheim. For whatever reason, the attraction at Disneyland that grabbed my attention the most was the Mad Hatter’s teacup ride.

Finally, when I was twenty-nine, I got to Southern California covering the Monticello High School Marching Band’s participation in Pasadena’s Tournament of Roses Parade. One of the band’s activities during the week we spent out west was marching in one of the daily parades at Disneyland, with pretty much an entire day of free time wrapped around that half-hour long parade. I headed to Fantasyland, home of the Mad Hatter’s teacups . . . and learned that Fantasyland was closed for a year-long renovation. I enjoyed the rest of the attractions at Disneyland. It was a fun day. But even now, thirty-some years later, when I see a picture of the Mad Hatter’s teacups, there’s a little twinge inside. End digression

Having taken a look earlier this week at what I was hearing on KDWB as the last weeks of summer 1970 played out (not all of which I remembered), I thought today, I would dig into the Airheads Radio Survey Archive and find a survey from this week from either Los Angeles or Oxnard and see what my California cousins heard coming from their radios.

I couldn’t find anything fitting the time frame from Oxnard, but I found the Boss 30 from Los Angeles’ KHJ for August 12, 1970. I don’t expect huge differences from what we were hearing back in the Midwest, but there might be one or two unexpected gems.

Here’s the top half of that week’s Boss 30:

“Make It With You” by Bread
“In The Summertime” by Mungo Jerry
“War” by Edwin Starr
“Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours” by Stevie Wonder
“Everybody’s Got The Right To Love” by the Supremes
“The Sly, Slick And The Wicked” by the Lost Generation
“Long Long Time” by Linda Ronstadt
“Westbound #9” by the Flaming Ember
“Tell It All, Brother” by Kenny Rogers & The First Edition
“Looking Out My Back Door” by Creedence Clearwater Revival
“Soul Shake” by Delaney & Bonnie & Friends
“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” by Diana Ross
“Tighter, Tighter” by Alive & Kicking
“Only You Know And I Know” by Dave Mason

No real surprises there, except maybe the records by Dave Mason and by Delaney & Bonnie & Friends, both of which missed – by two or three places – the Top 40 in Billboard. Some of the other records that hit the Top 40 rank a fair amount higher here than they ever did in Billboard, most notably the records by the Supremes, the Flaming Ember, and the Lost Generation. But nothing looks horribly out of place.

Of the eight records that KHJ tagged as “hitbound,” three of them were new to the survey: “Julie, Do Ya Love Me” by Bobby Sherman (which I mentioned the other day and was pleased the next day or so to hear coming at random from the iPod), “Look What They’ve Done To My Song” by the New Seekers, and “Candida” by Dawn.

Entering the Boss 30 the previous week and tagged as hitbound were: “Joanne” by Mike Nesmith & The First National Band, “Hand Me Down World” by the Guess Who, ‘Summertime Blues” by the Who, “I (Who Have Nothing)” by Tom Jones, and “Cracklin’ Rosie” by Neil Diamond.

So there’s nothing real surprising there. What does surprise me – having dug into the blog archives as I’ve written – is that in more than eleven years and some 2,200 posts, it seems that I’ve only mentioned the tune “Only You Know And I Know” two or three times, and always in the context of the cover version released by Delaney & Bonnie in 1971. I’ve entirely ignored Mason’s original, which showed up on his 1970 album Alone Together. It went to No. 42 in Billboard and was obviously more popular than that at KHJ. So here it is:

‘Never Goin’ Home’

Tuesday, August 7th, 2018

Having messed up bigly in tracing Mungo Jerry’s “In The Summertime” at KDWB the other week (and I still can’t figure out how my search went so awry), I thought I’d dive into the data at oldiesloon again this morning and take a look at the KDWB 6+30 from August 10, 1970.

As the second week of that August rolled in, most scheduled summer activities – enrichment classes, music programs, the state trap shoot – would have been over.

But the three weeks of summer football practice for the Tech Tigers had most likely just started, with me tending to boxes of footballs, bins of scrimmage jerseys, a primitive medical kit, and more. And before and after practice, the radio in the locker room’s small training room was almost always tuned to KDWB. I heard a lot of KDWB at home, too, but there, evenings belonged to WJON across the tracks and late evenings belonged to Chicago’s WLS.

Anyway, here are the Top Fifteen from that KDWB 6+30, records I would have heard nearly every day:

“(They Long To Be) Close To You” by the Carpenters
“Make It With You” by Bread
“Ball Of Confusion” by the Temptations
“O-o-h Child” by the Five Stairsteps
“Ohio” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
“Tighter, Tighter” by Alive & Kicking
“Spill The Wine” by Eric Burdon & War
“Song Of Joy” by Miguel Rios
“War” by Edwin Starr
“Band Of Gold” by Freda Payne
“I Just Can’t Help Believing” by B.J. Thomas
“Big Yellow Taxi” by Neighborhood
“Go Back” by Crabby Appleton
“Mama Told Me (Not To Come)” by Three Dog Night
“Are You Ready?” by Pacific Gas & Electric

That’s a pure hour of bliss for me. At least today it would be, forty-eight years after the fact. At the time, I might not have been too thrilled by “Song Of Joy” and I vaguely recall that I tired rapidly of “Spill The Wine.”

Looking further down the survey, “In The Summertime” (the record that started this) was at No. 18, up from No. 27 the week before. Gene Chandler’s “Groovy Situation,” a record that popped up on my iTunes yesterday, was sitting at No. 27, up three spots from the previous week. And there were three new records in the 6+30: “Overture From Tommy (A Rock Opera)” by the Assembled Multitude was at No. 31, “Never Goin’ Home” by Owen B. was at No. 34, and Bobby Sherman’s “Julie, Do Ya Love Me” was at No. 36.

I’ve written about two of those three newcomers seemingly many times. The Assembled Multitude record was one of my favorites that season, and the Bobby Sherman record stays in my memory banks because years after the fact, I realized that there was a Julie who, if she didn’t truly love me, at least liked me a lot, and I never noticed.

I don’t remember the record by Owen B. and searching it out on YouTube this morning sparked no recognition. It turns out that Owen B. was a band from Mansfield, Ohio, that had one record reach the Billboard Hot 100: “Mississippi Mama” went to No. 97 over a two-week period in March 1970. “Never Goin’ Home” never made the Hot 100, and it didn’t stay on KDWB very long. The following week, the record had fallen to No. 35, and a week later, it was gone.

Among the surveys collected at the Airheads Radio Survey Archive, only one other station gave “Never Goin’ Home” any attention. That was WCOL in Columbus, Ohio, where the record went to No. 1 during the first week of July. And that’s not surprising, as Columbus is just sixty miles from Owen B.’s home of Mansfield.

(If you’re interested in learning more about Owen B., there’s a brief history of the band in a 2013 post – seemingly written by band member Tom Zinser – at the blog Rockasteria.)

What interests me this morning is how – and why – “Never Goin’ Home” got any attention at all at KDWB. From what I can tell, the record never got into the 30 Star Survey at WDGY, the Twin Cities’ other Top 40 station. And from listening to the record several times this morning, that was a good decision. I mean, it’s not a bad record, but nothing much separates it from a thousand other records of the time.

I’ll let you make up your mind:

Chart Digging: Four Julys

Wednesday, July 25th, 2018

It seems that there were only four times during the years that interest us here that Billboard published on July 25: 1960, 1964, 1970, and 1981. The gaps between years – one remarkably short and another remarkably long – came for two reasons. First, I think that the magazine shifted its publication date from Monday to Saturday, creating the four-year gap between the first two charts we’ll look at; and then, the insertion of Leap Year Day – February 29 – into 1976 shifted days, so that July 25 moved from a Friday in 1975 to a Sunday in 1976.

All of that leads us to confirm an idea hatched here some years ago that anything that happens because of February 29 does nothing but cause trouble. Anyway, we have four instances of a Billboard Hot 100 to examine this morning, and we’re going to play some Games With Numbers, turning today’s date, 7-25, into No. 32 and see what treasures may lie at that spot in those four charts. We’ll also, as we customarily do, check out the No. 1 record for each of those weeks. So let’s get underway:

During this week in 1960, when a six-year-old whiteray was wandering through the summer before second grade, he and his pals were probably unaware of anything on the Hot 100 except perhaps Brian Hyland’s “Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polkadot Bikini” because the title was fun to sing and it was a little bit daring. I’m not certain what my pals knew beyond that fifty-eight years ago, but I certainly was unaware that “Pennies From Heaven” by the Skyliners was sitting at No. 32.

In Top Pop Singles, Joel Whitburn describes the group from Pittsburgh as a doo-wop outfit, and that certainly held true for 1959’s “Since I Don’t Have You,” but the group’s cover of “Pennies From Heaven” sounds more like Vegas and the Rat Pack than an East Coast serenade from a brownstone’s step. The record had peaked the week earlier at No. 24 and was on its way down the chart. It was the last of three Top 40 hits for the Skyliners, although they kept trying, releasing singles into the late 1970s.

I wasn’t listening to KDWB at the time, of course, but from what I can see at Oldiesloon, “Pennies From Heaven” never reached the station’s survey.

The No. 1 record in the Hot 100 fifty-eight years ago today was Brenda Lee’s “I’m Sorry.” (And in my head, I hear Golden Earring.)

We jump ahead four years to the summer of 1964, when sixth grade (and an intense crush on a young lady who lived about ten blocks south on Kilian Boulevard) was approaching but still out of sight. Parked at No. 32 fifty-four years ago today was the classic “Chapel of Love” by the Dixie Cups, heading toward a three-week stay at No. 1. Do I remember it from then or just from repeated hearings over the years since? I have no idea (and that’s true of many records from before, oh, 1967 or so). Over the next year, the Dixie Cups placed five more records in or near the Hot 100, including the classic “Iko Iko,” which went to No. 20 in 1965. (That record, Whitburn notes, was a reworking of “Jock-O-Mo,” written and recorded in 1953 by James “Sugar Boy” Crawford & His Cane Cutters.)

At KDWB, “Chapel of Love” peaked at No. 3, parking there for three weeks.

The No. 1 record in the Hot 100 fifty-four summers ago this week was “Rag Doll” by the Four Seasons.

By the summer of 1970, the next time Billboard released a Hot 100 on July 25, I was a dedicated Top 40 listener, so one would expect familiarity at No. 32. And that’s just what we get with “In The Summertime” by Mungo Jerry. The record came from a skiffle band from England, with Ray Dorset on vocals, and it was seemingly everywhere that summer, reaching No. 3 in the Hot 100. (It also went to No. 30 on the magazine’s Easy Listening chart.) But I’m not altogether sure where I heard it, as the record never made the KDWB 6+30 survey, according to the lists at Oldiesloon. Well, no matter where I heard it, it seemed to be everywhere, and the lines “If her daddy’s rich, take her out for a meal. If her daddy’s poor, just do what you feel,” seem now to be awful advice.

As it happens, “In The Summertime” is a perfect one-hit wonder, as the group never had any other records reach the Hot 100 or even bubble under.

(As the note below from faithful reader Yah Shure makes clear, “In The Summertime” did get plenty of air play on KDWB, which is what I recalled. I clearly messed up the search somehow and did not trust my memory and look again. Note added August 7, 2018.)

The No. 1 record in the July 25, 1970, Hot 100 was “(They Long To Be) Close To You” by the Carpenters.

And from 1970, we jump to July 25, 1981, smack in the middle of one of the six summers I spent as a reporter for the Monticello Times. As I’ve noted many times more than once here, I was listening less and less to Top 40 during those days, first because I had less leisure time and also because I liked what I was hearing less and less. Still, I do remember that week’s No. 32 record, “America” by Neil Diamond.

One of three Top Ten hits from Diamond’s movie The Jazz Singer, “America” had peaked at No. 8 on the Hot 100 and spent three weeks on the top of the Adult Contemporary chart. (The other two hits from the movie were “Love On The Rocks,” which went to No. 2, and “Hello Again,” which peaked at No. 6.) Diamond, of course, had a lengthy list of records in the Billboard charts, with the 2009 edition of Top Pop Singles showing fifty-six records in the Hot 100.

There are no 1981 surveys from KDWB at Oldiesloon, nor are there any from WDGY, the Twin Cities’ other Top 40 station.

Sitting at No. 1 thirty-seven years ago today was “The One That You Love” by Air Supply.

One Chart Dig: July 1970

Tuesday, July 17th, 2018

Here’s what the top of the Billboard Hot 100 looked like in mid-July 1970, as I wandered through the last months before my senior year of high school:

“Mama Told Me (Not To Come)” by Three Dog Night
“The Love You Save/I Found That Girl” by the Jackson 5
“(They Long To Be) Close To You” by the Carpenters
“Band Of Gold” by Freda Payne
“Ball Of Confusion (That’s What The World Is Today)” by the Temptations
“Ride Captain Ride” by Blues Image
“Lay Down (Candles In The Rain)” by Melanie with the Edwin Hawkins Singers
“O-o-o Child/Dear Prudence” by the Five Stairsteps
“Gimme Dat Ding” by the Pipkins
“Make It With You” by Bread

I don’t recall ever hearing the B-sides of the Jackson 5 and Five Stairsteps singles. Otherwise, every one of these records echoes in my head today, forty-eight years after their time. Did I like them all? Actually, yes, even the juvenile silliness of “Gimme Dat Ding.”

My pal Mike – whose mother was soon to banish me from their home because of my approval of the Beatles – brought the Pipkins single over one Saturday morning. We headed to the rec room in the basement, and I tried to tape the single, but without suitable equipment, every take was ruined by household noise. Finally, we were seconds away from getting the job done when Rick – coming over from across the street – gave me his regular signal of his arrival by tapping three times on the basement window. In exasperation and amusement, we gave up.

With that, we’re going to leave that Top Ten behind and dive deep, checking out – as we’ve been doing recently – the very bottom of the Hot 100, the record parked this week in 1970 at No. 100. And there we find “Long Lonely Nights” by the Dells.

I expected a sad tune, but the hard hitting “Lonely nights!” intro – which seemed to promise something up-tempo – threw me. And after that bit of oddness, the record settled into a standard Dells joint: Harmonies and sad sounds, swirling strings and punchy horns, a little bit of spoken word melancholy. Then, at the end, we get an unsettling reprise of the up-tempo “Lonely nights!” It’s as if the Dells and producer Bobby Miller weren’t sure what kind of record they wanted to make.

And whether it was the odd mix of up-tempo and slow sounds or something else, the record didn’t do very well. It peaked at No. 74 in the Hot 100 and at No. 27 in the magazine’s R&B chart. Here it is:

Saturday Single No. 599

Saturday, July 7th, 2018

From the time I was seven – when I started taking piano lessons – to the time I moved from my folks’ house on Kilian Boulevard when I was twenty-two, I had access to a piano almost every day. There was a period of about four years, ending when I was sixteen, when I played rarely, but other than that, I played the piano at home in the evening and – during my college years – in the practice rooms at St. Cloud State’s Performing Arts Center during the day.

Even when I was in Denmark, I could play. My Danish family had a piano, and there was a piano in the lounge at the Pro Pace youth hostel where I lived for most of the last four months of that adventure. (I have vague memories of playing at several youth hostels during my major travels around Western Europe as well.)

Then during the summer of 1976, I moved to the drafty house on the North Side and, nine months later, to the mobile home I rented from Murl. I was still in school most of that time, so I could still play piano on campus, but it wasn’t nearly as convenient as walking into the dining room.

In late 1977, I moved to Monticello and then to other places and I didn’t get to play very often at all. In Monticello, I occasionally went to the Lutheran church the Other Half and I attended and played there. In Columbia, Missouri, I sometimes walked across campus to the University of Missouri’s performing arts building, and I made similar walks when I taught at Minot State in North Dakota and at Stephens College during a later stop in Columbia.

When I was in Jacques’ band during the late 1990s and early 2000s, I got to play a very good electronic keyboard every week. After a while the guys in the band pitched in and bought me a keyboard and sound module for my home, but then I was asked to leave the band, and over time, the touch of the keyboard they gave me deteriorated as did the quality of the module’s sound.

And then we moved to St. Cloud and I hardly ever played. The night before the closing of the sale of the house on Kilian in late 2004, I went over and said goodbye to the old Wegman upright, and from that night until the time I began playing at our church almost five years ago, I didn’t play at all.

I’ve played a lot since then, but it’s still required heading over to our church and making sure that nothing’s been scheduled for the meeting rooms there that my playing either the grand piano in the sanctuary or the Yamaha Clavinova in the office would disturb. So my playing has required scheduling.

That won’t be true any longer. Just this morning, one of these was assembled and installed in my half of the family room:

Korg LP-180

It’s a Korg LP-180, with a full 88 keys and about ten voices. My external speakers will be in on Monday, but even so, its own speakers sounded wonderful when I gave the keys their first whirl about twenty minutes ago. So what did I play?

Well, after noodling a bit to hear the various voices and to get a sense of the keys’ feel, I launched into the first piece of music I was able to pull from the radio and replicate on the Wegman without resorting to sheet music. That happened in the spring of 1972, and it was a major advance in my growth as a musician.

The piece? Jim Gordon’s lovely coda to Eric Clapton’s “Layla.” (I learned to play the first portion of the piece from sheet music shortly thereafter.) And though it’s nowhere near rare, and it’s no doubt been featured in this space more than once, Derek & The Dominos “Layla” from 1970 is today’s Saturday Single.

One Chart Dig: May 30, 1970

Wednesday, May 30th, 2018

With the Texas Gal on vacation for a couple days following the holiday, it’s been a lazy time here. But I thought I’d take a few moments during a humid afternoon to look briefly at the Billboard Hot 100 from May 30, 1970, forty-eight years ago today.

Sitting at No. 1 was Ray Stevens’ “Everything Is Beautiful,” a record I might have liked the first time I heard it. I soon tired of it, and today I find it trite and bathetic. But we rarely do much business around here with the top of the charts, and today, Odd, Pop and I are playing a quick bit of Games With Numbers and looking at the record parked at No. 30.

And we find a record that’s never once been mentioned here in more than eleven years and about 2,400 posts: “Soolaimon” by Neil Diamond. That’s a little odd, given that I like Diamond’s work enough that his name is among the artists listed in the side column of both this site and the Echoes In The Wind Archives, which collects posts from early 2007 into 2009.

“Soolaimon” came from the 1970 album Tap Root Manuscript, where it was part of “The African Trilogy (A Folk Ballet),” a suite that took up the entire second side of the LP. I do wonder today exactly how African the suite truly is, but that’s a question for another time and for others more qualified than I to answer. (And I fear getting caught up in questions like: Should current concepts like cultural appropriation be applied to artistic works from earlier – and different – times?)

But back to “Soolaimon” the single: I liked it well enough when it was on the radio, I liked it when I heard it across the street at Rick’s place, and I still liked it when I heard it from my own vinyl copy of the album, which I finally collected in Wichita, Kansas, twenty years after its release. (And as I write, I’m pondering whether I should shell out a few bucks to get the CD; I likely won’t.) So why have I never written about it? I have no idea.

As it happens, we’re catching the record on the anniversary of its peak, as it had been at No. 31 a week earlier and would return to that spot as June began. So, with all that, here’s Neil Diamond’s “Soolaimon.”

‘Raise The Candles High . . .’

Wednesday, May 16th, 2018

Glancing at the Billboard Hot 100 from May 16, 1970 – an astounding forty-eight years ago today – I played a quick Games With Numbers and converted today’s date – 5/16/18 – to thirty-nine. And sitting at No. 39 forty-eight years ago today was Melanie’s “Lay Down (Candles In The Rain),” the anthem she composed after the experience of performing at Woodstock the previous August.

Recorded with the Edwin Hawkins Singers, the single had jumped twenty-three spots in the previous week and was on its way to a peak position of No. 6. It got there during the second week of July, about the time that the state trapshoot took place at a gun club just outside the St. Cloud city limits. I heard the record often as I sat in a trap for four long days, loading clay targets on a scary humming machine and trying not to get my fingers broken.

And since I’ve never featured the single here (and because long ago I characterized Melanie Safka in this space as the quintessential hippie chick), here’s “Lay Down (Candles In The Rain).”

(I think this is the single version, but there are so many versions offered at YouTube that I’m really not sure.)

‘How’

Wednesday, May 9th, 2018

So, today we finish our project titled Journalism 101, combing the digital stacks for tunes that have in their titles the various one-word questions that make up the foundation of reporting: Who, what, where, when, why, and how.

It’s finally time to look at ‘how,” and when we sort the 72,000 or so tracks currently in the RealPlayer for that word, we have 1,164 of those tracks remaining. Many, of course, must be discarded.

That includes more than 160 tracks by Howlin’ Wolf, more than 100 tracks from the Old Crow Medicine Show, the soundtracks by Howard Shore from all three films in The Lord of the Rings series, two full albums – Howlin’ and Howlin’ at the Southern Moon – by a group called Delta Moon, the 2005 album titled How To Save A Life by the Fray (except for the title track), full albums by Howdy Moon, Jan Howard, Howie Day, Catherine Howe and Steve Howe, and the wonderful album Showdown! by bluesmen Albert Collins, Robert Cray and Johnny Copeland.

And that’s maybe half of the chaff we have to discard. Still, there’s plenty of grain, and we’re going to let the RealPlayer decide, ordering the tracks by time, setting the cursor in the middle and going random four times.

We start with a track from one of the two acclaimed country rock albums Gram Parson recorded in the early 1970s. (He called his stuff “Cosmic American Music”). “How Much I’ve Lied” come from the 1973 release GP, and it’s a weeper, with Parsons telling the object of his affections that he’s an unworthy and dishonest rascal:

A thief can only steal from you, he cannot break your heart
He’ll never touch the precious things inside
So one like you should surely be miles and miles away from me
Then you’d never care how much I’ve lied

I’ve never liked a lot of Parsons’ stuff. With the Byrds, with the Flying Burrito Brothers and on his own, he got all the notes right, but seemed to miss the feel of the music more often than not. Maybe if I’d heard his work back when it came out, if the music Parsons made with those two groups and on his own had been my introduction to the genre, I’d feel differently. But from where I listen, the music of the short-lived and admittedly tragic Parsons falls short of country glory.

We leap ahead to the 1990s and a far different aesthetic: “How Will You Go” by Crowded House, with the close harmonies and musical production values that meant that nearly every review of the group’s work during the late 1980s and early 1990s included the word “Beatlesque.” The track comes from the group’s 1991 album Woodface, one that I had on cassette about the time it came out. I don’t know it as well as the group’s self-titled 1986 debut album, but I recall liking Woodface on those 1990s evenings on Pleasant Avenue when I turned to the stack of cassettes on my bookshelf instead of the bins of LPs on the floor. I can’t say I noticed “How Will You Go” back then, but it’s pleasant enough listening, though the lyrics seem a bit uncertain in direction. The track includes a surprise tack-on of about a minute of “I’m Still Here,” not noted on early track listings.

And courtesy of the massive Lost Jukebox project we get a nifty, poppy 1970 tune called “Teach Me How” by the Harmony Grass. The record, according to the notes at a site that catalogs all 170 volumes of the LJ (each with, I would guess, more than twenty-five tracks), was a United Kingdom release on RCA Victor. It’s got a nice backing track, it’s got tastefully stacked vocals with some Four Seasons flourishes, and its tale is one of a young man imploring his loved one to teach him how to survive when she leaves him: “You are my shoulder to lean on. What will I do when you’re gone?” Written by Neil Sedaka and Carol Bayer (before she appended the Sager), the record is a gender-flipped cover of a Chiffons B-side from 1968. Today, we’d call the tale one of dysfunction and co-dependence, I suppose, but I would have liked it if I’d heard it come from the speakers of my old RCA radio in 1970.

Our last stop is a familiar one: “You Don’t Know How It Feels” by Tom Petty. Pulled from the 1994 album Wildflowers, a single release went to No. 13 in the Billboard Hot 100 and won a Grammy for Rock Male Vocal. I’ve never written much about the late Mr. Petty, though I like a lot of his work, including this one. So let’s just listen:

Saturday Single No. 589

Saturday, May 5th, 2018

A search through the RealPlayer for tracks with the word “down” in their titles yields a result of 1,827 titles. That’s a lot of “down,” and that’s fitting, as a cold has settled in my head overnight and I’m going to be settling down for a good portion of the day.

I’ll be saving my energy, as we have a dinner with a friend this evening and then will attend a dance performance at the College of St. Benedict in the nearby burg of St. Joseph. So I’m going to sift through the “down” tracks and offer one of them for a tune this morning.

And I find one of my favorite tracks from Stephen Stills’ 1970 self-titled solo album, and a search tells me that somehow in more than eleven years of writing about the music I love, I’ve never once mentioned the track. I find that astounding, especially since I have at times written about the album, long one of my favorites.

So here is Stephen Stills’ “Sit Yourself Down,” today’s Saturday Single:

Forty-Eight Years

Friday, May 4th, 2018

May 4, 1970: Four Dead In Ohio

Allison Krause
Jeffrey Miller
Sandra Scheuer
William Schroeder

Here’s the original Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young single of “Ohio” from 1970, written by Neil Young.