Archive for the ‘1977’ Category

Saturday Single No. 558

Saturday, September 23rd, 2017

Looking for inspiration this morning, I took a glance at the top ten albums in the Billboard 200 from September 24, 1977, forty years ago this week:

Rumours by Fleetwood Mac
Star Wars soundtrack
Moody Blue by Elvis Presley
JT by James Taylor
Shaun Cassidy by Shaun Cassidy
Commodores by the Commodores
CSN by Crosby, Stills & Nash
Foreigner by Foreigner
Going For The One by Yes
The Floaters by the Floaters

We were slowly moving into a time when what was popular was no longer what I wanted to hear. Only three of those albums – the Fleetwood Mac, the James Taylor, and the Star Wars soundtrack – ever made it onto the vinyl stacks.

But there were no surprises as I scanned my way down the list this morning, at least until the very end. The Floaters? Who in the hell were the Floaters? As I limped to the shelf where I keep my reference books, I surmised that the Floaters were likely an R&B group, as it wasn’t rare for an R&B act do well nationally but get little exposure or airplay in the St. Cloud of the late 1970s. Or maybe there had been airplay, but I wasn’t paying attention.

And I was right. The Floaters – as maybe most of those who stop by here already know – were an R&B group, hailing from Detroit. The self-titled album that was No. 10 forty years ago was their first; they recorded three more albums in the next four years, according to Discogs, the last with, evidently, a female vocalist named Shu-Ga. Their single history goes back to 1965, when they released a record – “Down By The Seashore” – with Kenny Gamble before he was Kenny Gamble. It didn’t chart, and it wasn’t until 1976 that the Floaters were heard from again, with “I’m So Glad I Took My Time” released as a non-charting single ahead of its being included on The Floaters.

So there’s all of that (and more, if I wanted to go through every single the Floaters released), but our interest is that debut album, the one that peaked at No. 10, because it did sprout one massive single: “Float On.”

The single topped the Billboard R&B chart for six weeks during a seventeen-week run that started during the summer of 1977. Over on the Hot 100, “Float On” peaked with a two-week stay at No. 2, blocked from the top spot by first, Andy Gibb’s “I Just Want To Be Your Everything,” and then, the Emotions’ “Best Of My Love.”

The single is not quite my deal; having each member of the group introducing himself to some imaginary lady is, to me, lame. But the chorus hangs with me, and anyway, when I discover a smash hit forty years late, I sort of feel as if I need to acknowledge it. That means that the Floaters’ “Float On” is today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 556

Saturday, September 9th, 2017

Boy, you go away for a week, and stuff piles up on you, in this case, folks crossing over. Walter Becker of Steely Dan left us on September 3, and country giant Don Williams and Troy Gentry of Montgomery Gentry both died on September 8. So this is the first moment I’ve had to sit down and really think about any of those deaths, and I’m not sure what to say. I’ll deal with Becker today and probably write about the other two next week, after we’re all unpacked and the laundry from the road is done.

When Steely Dan came along in 1972, I liked what I heard, and I still like it. All of the early albums – from 1972’s Can’t Buy A Thrill through 1980’s Gaucho – are on the digital shelves, even though I haven’t often written about the work of Becker, his partner Donald Fagen and the rest of the folks who laid down those sounds.

But liking Steely Dan isn’t enough for me to know what to say about its music. Trying to describe it, I once wrote of the Dan’s 1974 hit, “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number,” that it had the visceral feel of that convalescent season, combing relief with “dissonance and odd angles and strange transitions.”

A far better assessment of what Becker meant to Steely Dan and to a fervent listener came the day after Becker crossed over. I frequently lean on the work of my pal jb at The Hits Just Keep On Comin’ when I either don’t know what to say or don’t know enough to write intelligently about something. Today I do so again. Go here and read jb’s reflections.

As for this space, it would too easy to post “Rikki” here this morning. So I’m going to dip into 1977’s Aja and the track whose lyrics tell us:

Well, the danger on the rocks is surely past
Still I remain tied to the mast
Could it be that I have found my home at last?
Home at last.

I know that Steely Dan and a romantic notion seem as odd a pairing as cognac and Cheez Whiz, but it would be nice to think that Becker is – in whatever way he might have wished – home at last, so “Home At Last” from Aja is today’s Saturday Single.

Saturday Single No. 542

Saturday, May 27th, 2017

In between helping the Texas Gal with setting up and planting the garden and helping my sister coordinate financial and medical details for my mom, I’ve not had a lot of time to think this week. Add to that my annual spring sinus infection, and my energy level is low. So we’re going to do a quick and easy post here this morning. Here’s the Billboard Top Ten from forty years ago this week, the end of May 1977, when I was midway through my term as arts and entertainment editor at St. Cloud State’s University Chronicle.

“Sir Duke” by Stevie Wonder
“When I Need You” by Leo Sayer
“I’m Your Boogie Man/Wrap Your Arms Around Me” by KC & The Sunshine Band
“Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac
“Got To Give It Up (Part 1)” by Marvin Gaye
“Gonna Fly Now (Theme From Rocky)” by Bill Conti
“Couldn’t Get It Right” by the Climax Blues Band
“Lucille” by Kenny Rogers
“Lonely Boy” by Andrew Gold
“Feels Like The First Time” by Foreigner

At the time, I was listening to albums and album rock at home, to Top 40 in the Chronicle newsroom, and to whatever it was that was offered by jukebox in the Atwood Center snack bar. And I knew all of those during the spring of 1977 except maybe “Wrap Your Arms Around Me” and the Marvin Gaye record.

Did I like the ones I knew? Not many. I truly liked the Stevie Wonder and the Fleetwood Mac, and I loved – as readers will know – the Bill Conti (though I heard it far less on the radio than I did Maynard Ferguson’s version of “Gonna Fly Now”). I didn’t care about “Boogie Man,” “Couldn’t Get It Right” or “Lonely Boy,” and I disliked the singles by Rogers and Foreigner.

This morning, “Wrap” was still a stranger, but I know the Gaye record not only from hearing it over the years since but from the hoo-ha about its having been appropriated in 2013 for “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams. (I’m still baffled that I don’t remember “Got To Give It Up” from 1977.)

But what else I there in that Hot 100? Let’s do some games with numbers, taking today’s date – 5/27/17 – and checking out Nos. 22, 32 and 44 to find a Saturday Single. Just for fun, we’ll also check out No. 100.

Sitting at No. 22 forty years ago was “Calling Dr. Love” by Kiss, coming down from a peak at No. 16. While I know many loved the painted ones, Kiss has never been on my list. So I’ll refrain from comment except to note that the record was the group’s tenth of an eventual twenty-seven in or near the Hot 100 between 1974 and 1990.

Things sound better at No. 32, at least for fans of quirky one-hit wonders, for sitting in that spot forty years ago this week was “Ariel” by Dean Friedman. The only appearance by the singer from Paramus, New Jersey, in the Hot 100, the record is one I remember fondly from evenings in my tiny mobile home in Sauk Rapids. “Ariel” peaked at No. 22, and I still think its tale reflects accurately at least a portion of the odd carnival that was the mid-1970s. As I wrote nine years ago, “Friedman got the details right about post-hippie, pre-disco America, from the peasant blouse to the Legion Hall.”

Parked at No. 44, we find “Hollywood” by Rufus featuring Chaka Khan, heading up to No. 32. I know the record now, but I don’t recall hearing it anywhere during those months forty years ago. It showed up for me on the album Ask Rufus during 1997, and was pleasant listening but no more than that.

And finally, we look at the No. 100 record during that week forty years gone: “Freddie” by Charlene. A tribute to the late actor and comedian Freddie Prinze that peaked at No. 96, it’s soggy and pathetic. (Charlene, of course, was the perpetrator in 1982 of the No. 3 hit “I’ve Never Been To Me.”)

Given the options, I have little choice, but that’s okay: Dean Friedman’s “Ariel” is today’s Saturday Single. [This is the album version, not the single version, but so it goes.]

Saturday Single No. 534

Saturday, April 1st, 2017

Forty years ago today, I gathered up all the stuff I’d moved from my folks’ house over to St. Cloud’s North Side and packed it into my blue 1967 Falcon station wagon. I then moved most of that stuff to the little burg of Sauk Rapids and its Blue Skies Mobile Home Park. (Some things, like the dresser and the bed, went back to Mom and Dad’s because the small mobile home I was now renting from my friend Murl had both a built-in bed and dresser.)

The move didn’t take long. Beyond the furniture that went back to Kilian Boulevard – and I’m not entirely certain how my friend Bill and I got it there; I have vague memories of borrowing a friend’s pick-up truck – there were only a few boxes of clothes and books and miscellany and, of course, my two cats. It only took a couple of trips.

And by the end of the day, I was safely ensconced in my new digs, a 35-foot by eight-foot mobile home. Small, yes, but for one person with few possessions, it was fine. (And I had few possessions: I was still a student, in the first of two quarters aimed at adding a print journalism minor to my radio-television news major.) And it was the first place where I’d ever lived by myself, and that pleased me.

As I settled in that evening, there was, I am certain, music. I had an AM radio in the kitchen, tuned to St. Cloud’s WJON, and I had an AM/FM clock/radio on the bedroom dresser. That radio was tuned at first to KVSC, St. Cloud State’s student-run FM station and then later on – maybe in just a week or two – to WHMH-FM, a Sauk Rapids-based station that offered a format that I remember as half album rock and half hits that weren’t too far to the pop side of the pop/rock divide.

So what might Bill and I have heard on the car radio that day as we drove back and forth from St. Cloud’s North Side to Blue Skies? Here’s the Top Ten in the Billboard Hot 100 that came out the next day:

“Rich Girl” by Darryl Hall & John Oates
“Dancing Queen” by Abba
“Don’t Give Up On Us” by David Soul
“Don’t Leave Me This Way” by Thelma Houston
“Love Theme From ‘A Star Is Born’” by Barbra Streisand
“Southern Nights” by Glen Campbell
“The Things We Do For Love” by 10cc
“Hotel California” by the Eagles
“I’ve Got Love On My Mind” by Natalie Cole
“Maybe I’m Amazed” by Wings

Well, that’s a mix. I love “Dancing Queen,” and I like “Southern Nights” and “Hotel California” well enough. The David Soul single has an unhappy memory attached to it. The singles by Thelma Houston, 10cc, Natalie Cole and Wings don’t matter to me one way or another. I’m not fond of the Hall & Oates record. And I detest the Streisand single. (It would be during the approaching summer when I took a Streisand-loving young lady to see A Star Is Born on a date that turned into the Night of the Buttered Falcon.)

But as we often do here, we’re going to look deeper into that Hot 100 and play Games With Numbers. We’re going to look at No. 17 for 2017, No. 40 for the number of years it’s been since my move, and No. 77 for 1977.

Sitting at No. 17 forty years ago this week was Bob Seger’s “Night Moves,” a single well-regarded enough here that it showed up in my long-ago Ultimate Jukebox. It was coming down the chart after peaking at No. 4.

The No. 40 record forty years ago this week was “Angel In Your Arms” by Hot, a classic cheating song by an interracial trio of women from Los Angeles that was on its way up the chart to No. 6. I recall it as an okay record.

And parked at No. 77 was “Cinderella” by Firefall. This was the group’s third foray into the Hot 100. During the summer of 1976, “Livin’ Ain’t Livin’” went to No. 42, and in the autumn, “You Are The Woman” had gone to No. 9. “Cinderella” would peak at No. 34.

Well, the Seger record – as I noted – is one of my all-time favorites, but, as I also noted, it’s been featured here before. “Angel In Your Arms” is just another record. As to “Cinderella,” well, even though I have had very little of Firefall’s work on my physical or digital shelves over the years – three LPs now gone, no CDs and just twelve mp3s – there is something in the sound of the band from Boulder, Colorado, that just feels like 1977.

Add to that the fact that over just more than ten years, I’ve mentioned the group only four times and have never featured its music here, and it’s an easy call this morning to make Firefall’s “Cinderella” today’s Saturday Single.

‘A Wednesday Car’

Wednesday, December 7th, 2016

It’s Wednesday, it’s cold outside – 13 degrees, but it feels like zero – and I have to go out a little later today to see the foot doctor and get some groceries for my mom. I think she’d like to go along, but I’m going to discourage that; it’s just too cold out there.

Anyway, I did some digging in the files for something for a cold Wednesday when I can’t seem to get things going, and I came across “A Wednesday Car” from Johnny Cash. It was on his 1977 album The Rambler. It’s good for a chuckle (if not a little bit of thought about the truth of the song).

The assembly line is runnin’ slow on Monday
They’ve been livin’ it up and layin’ up Saturday and Sunday
On Tuesday, they’re about to come around
But they still feel bad and they’re kinda down
And mad ’cause they’ve got four more days before the weekend rolls around
On Wednesday they’re feelin’ fine again
And they’re workin’ like a dog and diggin’ in
Tryin’ to do everything they should, puttin’ them cars together good
And I got me a car that was made on Wednesday, on Wednesday
If you’re gonna buy yourself a new car,
You just better hope you’re lucky enough to get one made on Wednesday

On Thursday, the weekend is in sight
And they’re in a hurry and they don’t do nothing right
Friday is the worst day of the week, that’s the day they make the lemons, dogs, and freaks
If your car was made on Friday, friend, you’ll soon be in the creek
Cause it’s payday and the loafin’ has begun
Lord, them Friday cars, just hope you don’t get one
Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday
Are all bad days, and the only try day is Wednesday
And my car was made on Wednesday, on Wednesday
If your car wasn’t made on Wednesday I’d advise you not to even leave home any.

Back To Sipping Wine

Wednesday, October 5th, 2016

A couple of interesting comments showed up on older posts here late last month. We’ll look at one today and the other later this week. The first was from Shane Valcich, adding a thought or two to a couple of posts from a little more than a year ago

In those posts – they’re here and here – I looked at a seeming contradiction – or mistake – in the titling and crediting one of my favorite tunes from the 1970s. I first knew the tune as “Sip The Wine,” written by Rick Danko and included on his self-titled 1977 album, and I wrote about how that tune and that album had provided some evening comfort and a sense of home for me as I settled into a couple of new apartments in Columbia, Missouri, in the late summer of 1990:

One of the tracks from Danko’s album that’s most evocative of those evenings is “Sip The Wine.” It’s a love song, and for the most part, it had no bearing on my life at the time, but I remember hearing the closing repetitions of “We must sip the wine” and nodding in agreement. The wine I was sipping wasn’t as sweet as that quaffed by the lovers in the song, but that was okay. I still found comfort in the song.

A couple of days later, after the random function on the RealPlayer alerted me, I wrote about the same song being released in 1972 – five years earlier than Danko’s release – by Tracy Nelson and Mother Earth under the title “I Want To Lay Down Beside You.” Credited to musician and songwriter Tim Drummond, the track was on the album Tracy Nelson/Mother Earth:

Digging into the contradiction, I made the assumption that Drummond was the songwriter and some type of error resulted in its being credited to Danko in 1977. But in the comment Shane left at the second post, he noted that it might have been the other way around. Here’s his comment, edited slightly.

Just a theory but I wonder if the error isn’t on the 1972 album.

Seems more likely that Rick wasn’t paying attention, didn’t care or gave away the song credits to Tim Drummond for the 1972 release. Rick was busy and highly successful in the early 70s with the Band and touring with Bob Dylan in 1974.

Seems less likely that Tim Drummond would get credit for playing bass on two tracks on Rick’s [1977] album while losing out on the higher paying writing credits for “Sip the Wine” on the same album, all while in a far less hectic time period when these musicians were all starting to decline in popularity and were looking for credit and royalties. Also he is properly credited for tons of writing and performing.

But inversely, maybe Tim’s success resulted in him giving the credit to Rick for his debut album seeing that Rick’s popularity may have been in more jeopardy than Tim’s. Or he was so busy he didn’t care or notice.

I will just have to head down to visit Rick’s grave in Woodstock and ask him while I smoke a joint with his spirit.

If Danko has any guidance for Shane from beyond the veil, I hope Shane shares it here.

‘Thunder’

Wednesday, August 10th, 2016

Well, it’s seven in the morning and the weather forecast calls for a sunny day with no chance of precipitation. But it’s darker than December outside, the thunder is rumbling, and the weather radar shows a green blob with yellow highlights heading this way from the northwest.

But that’s not ruining my day. Instead, it moves me to offer a random selection from the RealPlayer, where the tracks on the digital shelves now total more than 89,000. (I have about the same amount of music from various sources – friends, libraries, dark corners of the ’Net – sitting unsorted in folders on my external hard drive. If I were so inclined, I could work on sorting and tagging that for days.)

Anyway, here are three about thunder:

First up is “Drive Like Lightning (Crash Like Thunder)” from the Brian Setzer Orchestra. One of the first CDs I owned – obtained through a record club in 1999 – was the group’s 1998 effort The Dirty Boogie, which featured a cover of Louis Prima’s “Jump Jive an’ Wail” that went to No. 23 on the Billboard Hot 100. (The album itself went to No. 9 on the Billboard 200.) After a while, I tired of the group’s work and traded the CD for something else; Setzer’s approach to the jump blues he so obviously loves didn’t – for some reason – settle into my system well. “Drive Like Lightning” is from the group’s 2000 album Vavoom!, and it’s got a sound more rooted in a mythical late 1950s aesthetic (with some 1960s surf guitar tossed in), and like 1940s jump blues, that’s another interesting place to be. But even though I have a fair amount of music by the former Stray Cat front man and his group on the digital shelves – including another copy of The Dirty Boogie – Setzer’s work remains only of passing interest to me. Whenever I listen to more than one track at a time, I get the sense that Setzer and his mates are more interested in mugging at the audience than focusing on the groove.

From there, we bounce back to the late 1970s and some sessions that Bobbie Gentry did, evidently, for Warner Brothers. “Thunder In The Afternoon” and a few other tracks wound up on an early 1990s best-of release in the United Kingdom and were the subject of some discussion on a music board I stumbled upon about a year ago while putting together a post about Gentry’s version of Patti Dahlstrom’s “He Did Me Wrong But He Did It Right.” Likely recorded in 1977, “Thunder In The Afternoon” fits in nicely with the rest of Gentry’s oeuvre, though perhaps with a little less tang than her Delta-tinged early stuff. The question of what happened to Bobbie Gentry is one that music fans and writers return to from time to time. One of the latest writers to take on the topic was Neely Tucker of the Washington Post. Tucker’s piece, from June of this year, includes this teasing passage near the top: “Gentry spoke to a reporter, for this story, apparently for the first time in three decades. We caution you not to get too excited about that. It’s one sentence. Could be two. Then she hung up.”

The track that made me focus on “thunder” in this morning’s exercise instead of “rain” is, happily, our third random track today: “You’ll Love The Thunder” by Jackson Browne. Found on Browne’s 1978 live album Running On Empty, the track has long been one of my favorite Browne tracks, certainly my favorite from the live album. I think I just got tired of hearing “Running On Empty” and “The Load-Out/Stay” when they were overplayed on radio back in 1978. (The title track went to No. 11, and “Stay” – with “The Load-Out” on the B-side – went to No. 20.) The track still seems fresh almost forty years after I first heard it, and – as happens every time one of Jackson Browne’s early pieces pops up – I think briefly that maybe I should dig more deeply into the music he’s done in recent years. But even minor excavations into Browne’s later work always seem to leave me luke-warm. Why? I dunno, and I no longer try to figure out why. I have better ways to spend my time, like cuing up “The Late Show” or “Here Come Those Tears Again” or even “That Girl Could Sing.” Or “You’ll Love The Thunder.”

‘Thirteen’

Friday, November 13th, 2015

It’s Friday the Thirteenth, and the only reasonable thing to do is to look for tracks on the digital shelves with either “thirteen” or “13” in their titles. The take turns out to be slender: four tracks.

We could expand the search into albums. A numeral search would bring us Lee Hazlewood’s 13 from 1972 or Blue Magic’s 13 Blue Magic Lane from 1975, and a word search would call up Laura Nyro’s 1968 album, Eli And The Thirteenth Confession. And if we wanted, we could look into a couple of albums from Thirteen Senses, a current British group whose own website describes its sound as “indie/melodic.”

But we’ll stay with our four titles.

First up, alphabetically, is “Thirteen” by Big Star, the legendary power pop group of the early 1970s fronted by Alex Chilton. The track is from the group’s 1972 debut album, No. 1 Record, and describes the reactions of Chilton and fellow band member Chris Bell to witnessing a performance by the Beatles at the age of thirteen. In its listing of the 500 greatest songs of all time, Rolling Stone ranked “Thirteen” at No. 406. Big Star, like a lot of other groups and performers, is something I missed (both in the 1970s and during the band’s brief reunion in the 1990s). Listening now, I wish I hadn’t. But there was only so much time and money, and at least I got to No. 1 Record and all the rest eventually.

There are three albums on the digital shelves by the British group Charlie – No Second Chance, Lines and Fight Dirty, from 1977, 1978 and 1979 respectively – and none of them really stand out. All three are pleasant, they’re competently played, and they sound as much like Southern California work of the time as anything British (except for the occasional Brit accent or bit of slang). I remember seeing the group’s albums in the store – noted as they were for the pretty young women on their covers – but I was never tempted, and listening occasionally nearly forty years later, I’m not sure I missed much. But “Thirteen” from No Second Chance is melancholy and affecting, the tale of a girl grown up too quickly:

When she fell in love with her first boy, she was only just thirteen
She never had another look, this one could buy her dreams
So she signed away her life at sixteen

When you cue up a J.J. Cale track, you know pretty much what you’re gonna get: A relaxed, shuffling tune with some tasty guitar fills, no matter what he’s singing about. And that holds true for “Thirteen Days” from his 1979 album 5, which turns out to be a salute to life on the road:

Thirteen days on gig down south
We got enough dope to keep us all high
We got two girls dancing to pick up the crowd
Sound man to mix us, make us sound loud

Sometimes we make money
Sometimes we don’t know
Thirteen days with life to go

Having listened several times to Steve Forbert’s “Thirteen Blood Red Rosebuds” while following along with the lyrics, I have no idea what the song is about. He sings:

Hang your hopes on sun but the ships don’t sail
Storm clouds rule everything
Sailors pack both bars and Marlene works hard
More cheap engagement rings

Thirteen blood red rosebuds
Five weird weekend crimes
Sixteen sincere smiles while
Nobody’s lyin’

But that’s okay. It’s Steve Forbert. The track carries echoes of his 1979 hit, “Romeo’s Tune,” which I like a lot. “Thirteen Blood Red Rosebuds” is from his 2010 album, Mission Of The Crossroad Palms.

Six From The ’70s

Wednesday, November 4th, 2015

So we’ve sorted the tracks in the RealPlayer and found about 24,000 from the 1970s. Let’s go find six at random to think about this morning.

“In the corner of my eye, I saw you in Rudy’s. You were very high.” So starts “Black Cow” from Steely Dan’s 1977 album Aja, one of two Steely Dan albums I had before the 1990s (when I, as is well-known around here, went a little mad and bought more than 1,800 LPs over those ten years). My memory, aided by a look at the LP database, tells me that I won Aja for answering a trivia question on WJON while I lived in St. Cloud in late 1977, but there was a delay on the radio station’s part in getting the album, and then there was a delay on my part in getting to the station after I moved to Monticello. The delays didn’t bother me because Steely Dan wasn’t really in my sights at the time. I had Pretzel Logic on the shelves because of the presence of “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number” (and I liked the rest of the album), but the work of Donald Fagen and Walter Becker wasn’t high on my list. Still, I wasn’t going to pass up a free album, so I took Aja home, and I liked it okay. But it’s probably not on my Top 200. So, “Drink your big black cow and get out of here.”

Canny marketers as well as classically trained musicians, the duo of Ferrante & Teicher rarely missed a trend in the 1960s and 1970s, and as the world hit the dance floor in the late 1970s, Ferrante & Teicher followed, providing us in 1979 with Classical Disco, one of the stranger albums of the duo’s nearly forty-year recording career. Covering pieces ranging from composers Rachmaninoff and Khachaturian to Grieg and Tchaikovsky, the album closes with a thumping version of Felix Mendelssohn’s famed “Wedding March” (cliché that it is). Given the move in recent years toward massively choreographed wedding processionals and recessionals (some staid, many not), I can see a couple and their friends putting together a disco processional to the beat of the Ferrante & Teicher track. If it were my wedding and up to me, I’d save it for the reception.

Head On was a late 1975 release from Bachman-Turner Overdrive, and its relative failure in the charts portended the end for the rockers from Canada. The group’s previous three albums of new music had all gone Top Ten in the Billboard 200, but Head On stalled at No. 23. A single from the album, “Take It Like A Man” (with a backing vocal from Little Richard) went to No. 33 in early 1976, but the band’s moment had passed. Fittingly, then, the track titled “It’s Over” is the one that pops up from Head On. It’s a decent enough track, not unlike most of the stuff in the group’s catalog, but its unsubtle pleasures didn’t offer listeners anything new as 1975 was turning into 1976.

As an object lesson that one can find almost anything online these days, we move next to “Tiffany Case” from John Barry’s soundtrack to the 1971 James Bond film Diamonds Are Forever. When the RealPlayer offered the track to me this morning, I winced, but not because of the music. (It’s a decent bit of quiet and pretty musical fill for the movie, nicely portraying the soft side of Ms. Case, played in the film by the lovely Jill St. John.) The wince was for an expected difficulty in finding the track at YouTube. (I’d already made and uploaded one video this morning.) But there it was, and a quick click on the #JohnBarry hashtag shows me that what appears to be the vast majority of Barry’s work is now officially available at YouTube. I will have to do some digging there soon.

Whenever I write anything about Bobby Womack, I always feel as if I don’t know enough about the man or his work to write anything substantial. Today is no different, even though I know more about him and have heard more of his stuff now, thanks to a little bit of concentrated effort in the past few months. Anyway, what we have this morning is “Natural Man” from Womack’s 1973 album Facts Of Life. It’s a gender-flipped version of the Gerry Goffin/Carole King song “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” best known for the 1967 hit version by Aretha Franklin. It doesn’t seem to work, but then covering a classic is risky territory, and doing so with a gender-flip seems to make things all the more awkward. Womack’s delivery is fine, as usual. But it just feels, well, odd.

Speaking of covers of classic records, we close our expedition this morning with Ellie Greenwich taking on “Chapel Of Love” from her 1973 album Let It Be Written, Let It Be Sung. Greenwich, of course, wrote the song with Jeff Barry and Phil Spector, and the Dixie Cups had a massive hit with it in 1964, with the record sitting at No. 1 for three weeks. For her own album, Greenwich and co-producers Steve Tudanger and Steve Feldman take the song in an interesting direction, with bare-bones instrumentation and layered and entwined vocals, coupled with some ringing bells in the middle. It works for me.

‘Rub-A-Dub-A-Dub’

Thursday, September 17th, 2015

As likely noted here before, I usually do laundry – a task that takes about eight hours – on Mondays. This week, Monday was the last day of the Texas Gal’s vacation, so I set the task aside. Tuesday, my sister and I had scheduled a midday lunch to celebrate my birthday, so I punted again.

And then yesterday afternoon, my mom had a dental appointment, so I delayed things once more.

I likely should have done half of the laundry early Tuesday and finished it yesterday, but I’m not always a good planner. So here I am on a Thursday, working on ten days’ worth of clothes and towels.

So even though the gender is wrong (and I don’t need to use a washboard), I feel very much like the subject of “Washer Woman,” as offered in 1977 on the self-titled album by Levon Helm & The RCO All-Stars. (The All-Stars included Booker T. Jones, Dr. John, Paul Butterfield, Fred Carter, Jr., Duck Dunn, Steve Cropper, Alan Rubin, Lou Marini, Tom Malone and Howard Johnson.)