Andrew Gold: 1951 - 2011

I was very saddened to hear of Andrew Gold's sudden death in his sleep yesterday at the age of 59. Gold was truly a musical phenomenon of the 70s and 80s, and even if his name does not sound familiar, you know his songs.

His two biggest hits were the out-of-left-field 1977 psychodrama "Lonely Boy" and "Thank You For Being A Friend," the latter which went on to be the long-running theme song for the TV show "Golden Girls." While these two songs brought Gold his biggest success, they were far from his best work and don't even hint at the amazing jack-of-all-trades talent he was.

Gold's initial impact came as part of Linda Ronstadt's band in the first half of the 70s, when the singer was in her heyday. He helped pioneer the Ronstadt "Southern California" sound blending rock and country by arranging many of her hits and playing a very distinct twangy guitar. Think about the solo in the middle of Ronstadt's cover of the Everly Brothers' "When Will I Be Loved" and you'll know what I mean. Here's Ronstadt performing it on "The Midnight Special" with Gold on the left behind her.



His background vocals were very distinct on her recordings, and if you go through them, you'll definitely hear all those arranging, musical and vocal trademarks.

When Gold stepped out on his own, it was in the era of multi-instrumentalists, where people like Todd Rundgren, Stevie Wonder and Dan Fogelberg played nearly every instrument on their albums through the process of overdubbing. Gold mastered the guitar, bass and piano for many of his solo recordings.

While "Lonely Boy" (from his second album) and "Thank You For Being A Friend" (from his third album) brought him the biggest commercial success, it was his 1975 debut album that was by far his best. Loved by the critics and not selling many copies, Andrew Gold (cover seen above) was Southern California rock at its best, with touches of country and pop, but really the first look at his songwriting. We knew about his singing and playing, but man, this guy could write hooks the size of a skyscraper. Expert musicianship, sounding much like those distinct Ronstadt records, and lots of harmonies. Just a great album with 10 absolutely unforgettable songs.

It's also the first time the public got a taste of Gold's twisted sense of humor and storytelling: the ballad "Endless Flight," with some poor guy on a bumpy flight pondering the future of a relationship at the same time... another guy on the lam from a crime warns his girlfriend to "Hang My Picture Straight"....

Even if the record didn't sell, at least Gold got royalties from Leo Sayer's cover of "Endless Flight."

Beyond those two megahits (and writing the theme song for 90's sitcom "Mad About You"), Gold's song were not destined to last, as country/rock fell out of favor and even Ronstadt had to figure out what her next phase was going to be. Gold periodically released albums, including a mesmerizing tongue-in-cheek tribute to 60s psychedelia under pseudonym Fraternal Order of The All called Greetings From Planet Love. That album had a carbon copy Byrds song called "Somewhere In Space And Time," and nods to "Magical Mystery Tour"-era Beatles, and a John Lennon/Bob Dylan combo called "Mr. Plastic Business Man."

Another side project was really something out of a pop lover's dream -- teaming with 10cc's Graham Gouldman in 1988 to form Wax UK, which had a US cult following and something more than that in Europe. They had one fantastic single, "Bridge To Your Heart," which was accompanied by a crazy Peter Gabriel-ish video.



While many people will remember Gold for those two 70s hits, I will remember him for forging a unique rock sound in that era, writing many memorable songs that nobody would exactly call "easy," superb musicianship and frankly, I can't help but admire a guy who was as talented as he was.

He will definitely be missed.

Gerry Rafferty -- "Baker Street" (1978)

Gerry Rafferty died today at the age of 63 years old after "a long illness."

While the name doesn't ring a bell with many people under the age of 40, I guarantee they've all heard his distinctive voice. I know my kids have. He sang lead on Steelers Wheel's 1972 hit "Stuck In The Middle With You," which of course later went down in cinema history in the famous ear-cutting scene in Quentin Tarantino's 1992 film "Reservoir Dogs."

It wasn't until 1978 that Rafferty achieved his biggest success, the City to City album, which contained several huge hits, but nothing compared to the impact of his "Baker Street" single.

The late 70s was a fruitful period for English singer/songwriters whose sophisticated tunes were carried away by equally imaginative hometown producers. In the hands of mega-producer/engineer Alan Parsons, folkie Al Stewart went through the roof with "Year Of The Cat," "On The Border" and "Time Passages," all elaborately orchestrated productions.

Rafferty followed the same blueprint with City to City, except with a slightly more Scottish flavor. Each song was at least five minutes long, little detailed stories of English lives, and you could best describe them as "sophisticated English folk pop." Producer Hugh Murphy supported each one with the best UK studio musicians, impeccable arrangements, and a warm, homey analog flavor.

"Baker Street" was the album signature song, with a killer saxophone hook that just echoed on and on. Trust me when I say that "Baker Street" was played on every radio station morning, noon, and night. This was another one of those songs where the lyrics were desolate while the melody was deceptively upbeat and happy.

Windin' your way down on Baker Street
Light in your head and dead on your feet
Well another crazy day
You'll drink the night away
And forget about everything
This city desert makes you feel so cold.
It's got so many people but it's got no soul
And it's taking you so long
To find out you were wrong
When you thought it had everything

You used to think that it was so easy
You used to say that it was so easy
But you're tryin'
You're tryin' now
Another year and then you'll be happy
Just one more year and then you'll be happy
But you're cryin'
You're cryin' now

Way down the street there's a lad in his place
He opens the door he's got that look on his face
And he asks you where you've been
You tell him who you've seen
And you talk about anything

He's got this dream about buyin' some land
He's gonna give up the booze and the one night stands
And then he'll settle down there's a quiet little town
And forget about everything

But you know he'll always keep movin'
You know he's never gonna stop movin
Cus he's rollin'
He's the rollin' stone

And when you wake up it's a new mornin'
The sun is shinin' it's a new morning
You're goin'
You're goin' home.

While "Baker Street" cleaned up, there were two other singles from the album, "Right Down The Line" and "Home And Dry" which hit the Top 40. I was a big fan of the first song, "The Ark," probably because it was atypically slow for an album opener, as well as the title "City to City" cut because nothing beats a good train song.

Rafferty never achieved anything close to this kind of success again and eventually faded from sight. He showed up on Mark Knopfler's beautiful soundtrack score to "Local Hero." For some reason, I remember reading an interview with him sometime in 2010 -- still as crusty as ever, railing against the recording industry -- but anxious to release more music.

Below are a few videos of Rafferty's hits from City to City -- "Baker Street" in its 4-minute form (originally 6 minutes on the album), "Right Down The Line" and "Home And Dry." Enjoy them -- Rafferty's best gleaming moments in music that he gave us.

Al Kooper -- "(Please Not) One More Time"

When you're the so-called "Zelig of rock and roll," you're entitled to do what you please.

Al Kooper can merit many pages of biography -- from the guy who played organ on Bob Dylan's "Like A Rolling Stone" to the man who discovered and produced Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Tubes, and perhaps you know he helped found Blood, Sweat & Tears? That's just the tip of the iceberg. Read his web site's bio and his "selected" discography.

Let's turn the dial back to 1977, and Kooper's seventh solo album, Act Like Nothing's Wrong, shows up at the college radio station as well as the school paper's music section. The cover catches my eye because let's face it -- it is damn weird with Kooper's head on a babe's body and the back cover is the reverse. And he is Al Kooper, he's got loads of credentials, and frankly, I didn't know what he sounded like as a solo artist.

Open up the record (on the late lamented United Artists label), and the inner sleeve reads: "Dedicated to my influences"followed by a long, long list of rock, pop, and soul artists. Never has a dedication worked so well on double duty describing what the album actually is.

Kooper has taken a collection of original and semi-obscure tunes and re-arranged them into the many recognizable styles of popular artists of the 70s. The whole album is a fun game of "spot the artist."

His own 60s hit, "This Diamond Ring," is reworked into a minor-key Little Feat funk workout. "Hollywood Vampire" is a paean to the dire L.A. landscape of Joe Walsh and The Eagles, notably the power chords of "Turn To Stone." And yes, that is Mr. Walsh guesting on slide guitar, in case you didn't make the connection.

For this post, I came really close to picking "She Don't Ever Lose Her Groove," a bobbing Al Green tribute where Kooper gets all soulful and hot and bothered, the Tower of Power horns doing a perfect mock-up of Willie Mitchell's old arrangements, and a killer fluid guitar solo at the end.

We went with the ridiculously catchy "(Please Not) One More Time," which can best be summed up like this: Steely Dan's "My Old School" meets The Beach Boys. Recorded with some of Nashville's finest musicians, Kooper meticulously gets every Fagen and Becker nuance right, with a hefty dose of Brian Wilson: up and down clavinet riff, ascending chord structure, mock horn riffs (including the dead-on break arrangement), and yes, lots and lots of layered Endless Summer-like vocals courtesy of the Ron Hicklin Singers.

And instead of tackling the good old days at Bard College, Kooper gets caught in the cross fire of a long-distance relationship between California and Atlanta, GA, along with some double-entendre rumors thrown in (not having the "energy to go down one more time?"). Hey, there can only be one Fagen and Becker.

Doesn't matter. Here is the very non-subtle "wear your influences on your sleeves" tune along with a video I created which is as much a tribute to Kooper as it is to the song itself.

Mike Finnigan -- "Just One Minute More" (1978)

What Boz Scaggs had wrought.

When Silk Degrees became a multi-million selling album in 1976, he basically busted open the door for blue-eyed soul like never before. Suddenly, it totally cool for white guys to sing soul music blatantly in the style of Motown, Philly and Stax. Of course, the guys who really took that concept to the bank were Daryl Hall and John Oates, right through most of the 80s.

But let's go back to the Silk Degrees era. In 1977, English guitarist Dave Mason had the biggest selling album of his career when Columbia Records paired him with producer Ron Nevison for a slickly-produced collection of catchy rock tunes. Mason's band was a collection of immensely talented musicians and composers. The single that drove it through the roof, "We Just Disagree," was written by his guitarist Jim Krueger. Also in the band was keyboardist Mike Finnigan, who had already played on Jimi Hendrix's Electric Ladyland and other classic rock records.

Mason's album Let It Flow sold tons, so all of a sudden those talented guys in his band had solo albums released on Columbia, who probably thought they could duplicate that success. While we will discuss Krueger's impressive Sweet Salvation another time, Finnigan released what was actually his second album under his own name, called Black and White.

Not a subtle reference, Black and White was like the Boz Scaggs album that Boz never did. Also produced by Nevison, Finnigan sounds remarkably like Mr. Scaggs' deep voice, powerful and emotional all at once. Other than covering Krueger's straightforward rock ballad, "The Words," every song is right out of the Philly and Chicago soul playbook, and it seems they were all written by, yes, white guys! One exception -- his completely fitting cover of The Soul Survivors' "Expressway To Your Heart."

Finnigan's keyboards are right up front, either with a B3 organ or piano, sometimes very gospel-ish, or downright bluesy. And this guy could sing. The obvious single was the unforgettable lead-off tune from the album, "Just One Minute More," co-written by music legend Al Kooper. All slick guitars, orchestration, Finnigan's insanely pleading vocals ("He wants you for decoration/But I need you just to live!"), and thumpety drums. It's just one of those songs you can't get out of your head, right out of another era.

These days, Finnigan is touring all over the world, welcomes just about anybody to friend him on Facebook (over 4,600 of them as of this writing), and contributes to the political blog Crooks & Liars in pretty much the same way he performs -- no holding back. If you want to hear true songcraft style and singing, well, let's go to the video... (and if you'd like the song, you can download the album from Mike himself)...

Walter Egan -- "Only The Lucky" (1977)

One of the 70's biggest one hit wonders deserved a far better fate. Walter Egan's prom song "Magnet and Steel" was positively tongue in cheek and far inferior to the rest of the material he recorded. So let me set the record straight for everybody right now.

A Queens boy who went to Georgetown University, and then headed west to join surf bands, Egan had it all -- good looks, a very distinct voice (sort of reminiscent of Gerry Rafferty), and a knack for writing great little rock songs. He ended up being Lindsey Buckingham's first outside production job after his initial Fleetwood Mac album went through the roof.

They had an awful lot in common: an obvious worship of Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys, as well as a passion for innocence and simplicity. For their Egan's debut Columbia album, Fundamental Roll, Buckingham enlisted a coterie of prime southern California band musicians, and had his amour, Stevie Nicks, sing with Egan on at least half the tracks.

Imagine a very Fleetwood Mac-sounding album, except truly from a single west coast guy's point of view. From the first few moments of "Only The Lucky," when the drums smash the downbeat, and the acoustic and electric guitars jangle big major chords in unison, you know you are in "Go Your Own Way" territory, but without the complex Mick Fleetwood drum patterns. It's wistful betrayal, with a taste of defiance, done simple and true, going down to the minor chord for the chorus. Nicks is all over the song, even with that "ya-ooooo" during the fade out. And yes, that can only be Buckingham's distinct high up the neck guitar solo, right out of "Second Hand News." Notice that last chorus change to "Only the lucky and I will survive."

I had a dream just the other day
I dreamed that you would never be leavin' me
I still recall what you had to say
You said that you would always believe in me

Then I woke, as I always do
My dream was gone like darkness from the sky
Felt the pain and I saw the truth
Only the lucky in love survive

Only the lucky in love survive
Without love, you're just half alive
Only the lucky in love survive
Without love, I'd just as soon die

I gave my love and I gave my best
God only knows how good it felt to try
In the end, I'm alone again
'Cause only the lucky in love survive

Only the lucky in love survive
Without love, you're just half alive
Only the lucky in love survive
Without love, I'd just as soon die

Only the lucky in love survive
Without love, you're just half alive
Only the lucky in love survive
Without love, I'd just as soon die

Only the lucky and I will survive
Only the lucky and I will survive
I will

Studying many classic 60's based songwriters, like Neil Diamond, Paul McCartney, and Carole King, their chords were basic and easy -- they were all about the melodies and hooks. Egan mastered this craft as well, for the whole Fundamental Roll is just classic rock hook after hook, and the instrumentation is just right for his tales of lust, partying, girls, and cars -- sometimes going up a half a key just at the right moment. A couple of tunes have that early 60's kick drum "bum...bumbum" of many girl group hits.

If you are a Fleetwood Mac fan (especially Fleetwood Mac and its Rumors sequel), Walter Egan's first two albums are mandatory purchases (Fundamental Roll and Not Shy). Because of "Magnet and Steel," Not Shy came back into print a while ago on the Razor & Tie label then disappeared, while Fundamental Roll stayed dormant until recently, when Egan began reissuing copies of his early records. Those first two albums are now a two-fer on one CD. They can be bought new or used through Amazon, or as sparkling downloads from the very same site.

Any discussion of Fundamental Roll can not leave out the album's front and back covers. Israeli-born photographer Moshe Brakha, whose distinct style evoking movement, artifice, and sexiness, first made a splash with his cover shot for Boz Scaggs' Silk Degrees album. For Egan's debut record, the clear theme was "teenage lust," something that I could not possibly imagine him getting away with in this current hyper-sensitive era. At dusk, there's the boy-ish Egan standing next to a black muscle car while two sexy cheerleaders are crouching up to him approaching crotch level. And if that's not enough, the back cover was the same setting with Egan squeezing both girls standing up, their skirts hiked up, with white panties clearly showing. Some innocence!

After his album sales crashed, Egan rejoined the surf band he belonged to when he first made his way to California, the Malibooz, which still record and play to this day. One last Walter Egan fact you can amaze your friends with: he wrote the song "Hearts On Fire" for Gram Parsons' classic pioneering country-rock album Grievous Angel.

Enjoy this video I put together for "Only The Lucky," with audio the way it was meant to be heard! And below that, early MTV does a short news segment on the surf music revival, and interview Egan in his Malibooz guise.

Chilliwack -- "Fly At Night" (1977)

Canada's sort of answer to the Eagles came blasting through down the hall from me at the very beginning of my junior year at SUNY at Buffalo.

Chris came from Ogdensburg, NY, a small city located in the very north corner of New York State, on the St. Lawrence River, right across from Canada. Setting up the first week of the semester, he put on Chilliwack's Dreams, Dreams, Dreams album on his stereo and had the whole floor mesmerized. And it was the lead off cut, "Fly At Night," that had everybody wondering who they were.

Living on the Canadian border probably gave Chris a lot of exposure to their FM rock radio. We didn't know who Chilliwack was, except they were named for some city in British Columbia and the lead singer had this crazy falsetto. No, not like fellow Canadian Geddy Lee, but imagine if somebody lit a fire under Bread's David Gates, told him to put down the wimpy guitar and sing hard and loud.

Starting with a beautiful D major arpeggio on acoustic guitar, "Fly At Night" was one of those patented rock group road songs, much like Grand Funk Railroad's "We're An American Band," Lynyrd Skynyrd's "What's Your Name," Canned Heat's "On The Road Again" and CSN's "Just A Song Before I Go." Except no girls, no drunks, no fights... it's Chilliwack's anthem about the magic of touring and connecting with the audience.

The band kicks in after the introductory verse, blending electric and acoustic guitars, a nice fuzzy Wurlitzer EP, turning this into one kick-ass road anthem. It's pure propelled gas from there, shifting into an A minor gear, and lead singer/songwriter Bill Henderson really catches you with that high pitched "Ah-aa-aaaaaaaa!" Think of the classic rock catalog, and you just don't hear lead falsettos all that much. Now here comes one and you say "What's that?"

Four men in a rock 'n roll band
Fly at night in the morning we land
Fly at night 'til we're satisfied
See the morning from the other side

And when you close your eyes
Sleep comes fast
When you fly the universe
Well, you need some rest
Yeah, you need some rest

Ooh, we like the big wide spaces
Yeah, we like a sea of faces
Time is just a rubber band
Time is at our command

And when we look out
And see you there
You seem much closer
And you feel so near
Yeah, you feel so near

Well we fly by night, it's like a rocket flight
And baby that's just what it's for
Yeah, we fly by night, it makes you feel alright
It keeps you coming back for more

[Guitar break]

Well we fly by night, it's like a rocket flight
And baby that's just what it's for
We fly by night, it makes you feel alright
It keeps you coming back for more

[Guitar break]

Four men in a rock 'n roll band
Fly at night in the morning we land
Fly at night 'til we're satisfied
See the morning from the other side.


It's funny but now listening to the song a few times over, it really is like that "rocket flight" described in the lyrics -- starting mid-tempo on acoustic guitar, bringing in the rest, careening at a breakneck speed, solos going all over the place and then screeching like brakes when it returns to the acoustic guitars again, and then one last mad run-through.

Two years later, mucking through graduate school at Syracuse University, I turned my roommate Vic onto the song, and it became a bit of an anthem for our apartment. We'd pull out our guitars and play and sing along because this was an absolute blast. Frankly, nobody knew who Chilliwack was unless you lived north of the Peace Bridge, but this song was imprinted and crystallized like our little secret.

The entire side one of Dreams, Dreams, Dreams was a pleasure to listen to. However, "Fly At Night" is truly one of the greatest rock road anthems that nobody ever heard. Below is my homemade video.

The Knack's Doug Fieger -- in memorium

Doug Fieger, lead singer and songwriter of the successful and influential power pop band The Knack, died on Valentine's Day after a long battle with lung cancer. It's a very sad end to an amazing musical life.

I knew he was sick during this time, but he still continued to give interviews. He gave a terrific one in January 2008 to Vintage Guitar magazine about his amazing collection of equipment, growing up loving rock and roll, and the impact of the classic single "My Sharona." There was no mention of his illness in the article.

"You can have the same equipment, but unless you've got Jimmy Page's fingers, you ain't gonna sound like Jimmy Page," Fieger says. "Still, as a collector, I like having what a lot of the players that inspired me had."

According to the obituary that appeared in his hometown Detroit News newspaper, Fieger told the paper just last month, "I don't know any better than anyone else when I'm going. I've had 10 great lives. And I expect to have some more. I don't feel cheated in any way, shape or form."

The Knack's premiere album, Get The Knack, sold 6 million copies and brought back a love for 60's-era British invasion guitar rock and roll to the world. Although their aping of the Beatles caused a huge backlash and ridiculous expectations for the band's second album, they kept plugging away making great music and giving no quarter.

If you have any doubts of the staying power of "My Sharona," then you can remember the funny scene from the 1994 film "Reality Bites" (shown below) or that the song is featured in an edition of the video game Guitar Hero.

Their third album, Round Trip, produced by Jack Douglas (Aerosmith, John Lennon), gave them a bigger, in-your-face sound, and featured one of my favorites of theirs, a tour de force called "Africa."

Leaving Capitol for Charisma for the one off Serious Fun, old Detroit buddy Don Was roughed up the band's sound, gave the guitars more edge, but the songs were still there, like "Rocket o' Love" and the title cut.

The band continued releasing records periodically with mixed results, such as Zoom and Normal As The Next Guy.

What Fieger should be remembered for is finding a grand musical vision and sticking with it. Clearly, he was mesmerized by the melodic rock songwriting of the 60's, grew up learning how to play and collecting these instruments that mean so much to him. Even when the critics turned on The Knack and eventually the public went along, he still believed in the three-minute rock song with hooks and harmonies, lots of guitars, and the angst of a teenager.

I own a wonderful DVD the Knack did in 2002 called Live From The Rock 'n' Roll Fun House, where three quarters of the original band do a fantastic staged run through of many of their great songs.

Below is a video memorial for Doug Fieger and The Knack, starting with a local cable interview he did in Rhode Island. You'll notice that a number of these performances were from the past few years, when Fieger was battling cancer, but that did not stop him. Rest in piece, Mr. Fieger.

Rick Derringer -- "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo" (1973)

One of the forgotten 70's rock classics, this is one of those songs that when you hear it, you can't help saying to yourself, "Damn, that is a good song. Can't get tired of that one." This should be a staple of every 70's rock cover band.

Rick Derringer had himself quite rock and roll resume. As a member of the McCoys, he played on their one big hit, "Hang On Sloopy." He went on to join Edgar Winter's White Trash, which fused blues, rock and R&B, best known for their horn-driven FM cult favorite, "Keep Playing That Rock and Roll."

Derringer had originally written "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo" when he was with the band, yet it was recorded first by Edgar's brother Johnny and then on the Edgar Winter's White Trash live album, Roadwork, with Johnny on guest vocals and absurdly Texas-fried distorted guitar.

With his boy-ish good looks, pop songwriting leanings and insane guitar talent, it was a no-brainer for Derringer to step out on his own with a deal on CBS-distributed Blue Sky Records. All-American Boy was a highly-polished affair that came bursting out of the gate like a rocket with a revved-up "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo," the one Derringer could claim as his own and the true classic. Producer Bill Szymczyk was already making himself known as a commercial rock producer, who would go on to produce The Eagles, Joe Walsh, Dan Fogelberg and others.

Derringer's version had hit written all over it -- boogie rhythm, catchy melody, nonsense "teen" lyrics about a night out listening to a band called the Jokers, picking up a girl and having sex with her "behind the barn," a ridiculous blues tag played after every verse line, and one of the best guitar solos laid down in the 70's.

Since I was teaching myself guitar in high school, I was picking up everything I could learn like a vacuum cleaner. One night I went to see a few guys jam in a neighborhood basement, led by a guitarist nicknamed "Mousy" (!) and they played "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo" note for note. It was that night that I learned the power of the barre chord -- hammering the index finger down across the fret to create not only play inversions but fuller sounding chords. I discovered "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo" was a barre chord field day from the very opening F chord to the slipping and sliding over the chorus.

In under four minutes, there were actually a lot of little catchy moving parts for a guitarist to learn: the bending G note on the bottom string that went down to the E just before every verse, the sliding E7th notes that started on one octave and zipped up another right that part, that A minor blues lick after every verse line, and the precision stops and starts of the final chorus.

While Rick never duplicated the success of "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo," he did pretty well for himself. He had the fortune (misfortune?) of marrying and eventually divorcing rock photographer/quasi-groupie Liz Derringer. I met Liz years later shooting concerts at Radio City Music Hall and she didn't have many nice things to say about her ex.

Derringer discovered Weird Al Yancovic (yep!) and played on and produced his first albums. And if you're a Steely Dan fan, he had his moments with them, adding slide guitar to "Show Biz Kids" on the Countdown to Ecstacy album and one of the many who contributed to Katy Lied. Not long ago on SiriusXM radio, I heard a cut from a recent blues album Derringer had recorded and it sounded so good, that it's on my shopping list now.

You want to get a dose of that dynamo in his prime, here is Rick doing "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo" backed by The Edgar Winter Band (yes, that's Dan Hartman you'll see there). And that's followed by Johnny Winter sitting down playing a stripped-down electrified cover version with just a bassist.

Graham Parker and The Rumour -- "Mercury Poisoning" (1979)

Part of the three great angry English men who burst out of the music scene in the late 70's (the other two were Elvis Costello and Joe Jackson), Graham Parker earned his chops on the famous pub rock circuit, which gave us Nick Lowe, Dave Edmunds, Brinsley Schwarz and much of the late Stiff label roster.

While Costello drew from early 60's rock and Jackson rocketed across short, sharp songs, the always-in-aviator-shades Parker was heavily influenced by Motown and other soul music genres which he wore on his sleeve. He infused his rock periodically with Funk Brothers licks and reggae beats ("Don't Ask Me Questions"). With his mates, Parker played as a true band and their recordings were full of energy, a totally live vibe, and often with his own four-piece horn section.

In the first years of his recording career on the Mercury label, Parker cut cover versions of soul classics like a stomping "Hold Back The Night" (by the Trammps), that had the twin guitar attack Thin Lizzy made famous, and The Jackson Five's "I Want You Back," which stays true to the original, as much as nobody sounds like Michael and his brothers!

However, unlike those R&B songs he clearly loved, Parker was full of rage and agony. His lyrics showed a man who didn't believe in compromises in love and friendship, yet often felt betrayed. He didn't suffer fools, and wasn't afraid of sharpening that poison pen in his lyrics. He always had a penchant for two things: somehow bringing in the weather in his lyrics (often raining, with thunderstorms) and making his chorus the entire title of his song ("Passion Is No Ordinary Word," "Discovering Japan," "Stick To Me"). Parker's tunes were anthemic and bluntly confessional sometimes ("Fool's Gold" and "Pouring It All Out"). My friend John's college floor hockey team was named after Parker's "Heat Treatment" and blasted it before each game.

Savvy artists covered his songs, notably his buddy Dave Edmunds ("Back To Schooldays" and "Crawling From The Wreckage") and what I consider to be the definitive version of his song "Thunder and Rain," performed on a long out-of-print album on CBS by singer/actress Ellen Foley (definitely the subject of a future post -- she belted the female date role in Meat Loaf's famous "Paradise By The Dashboard Light").

Parker wanted to break the US market in the worst way, and deservedly so considering his talent. Watching his buddy and former producer Nick Lowe climb on to US radio with "So It Goes" and "Cruel To Be Kind" didn't sit well with him. Finally, after he released a three-sided live album The Parkerilla to fulfill his contract (yes, in the vinyl days, you could do this!), Parker moved to Arista Records.

His first post-Arista signing recording was a bootleg single aimed right at the record company who he felt failed to promote him properly. Usually wrath is incurred towards ex-girlfriends and other creeps, but Parker packed all the venom he could to blast Mercury Records, which truly marked the end of his "pub rock and soul era." A collector's item (which I have somewhere in a box in my basement), the one-sided "Mercury Poisoning" single had a skull and crossbones on the label. And yes, this is probably the catchiest singalong record label blow-off you'll ever hear.


No more pretending now,
the albatross is dying in its nest.
The company is crippling me,
the worst trying to ruin the best, the best.

Their promotion's so lame
They could never ever take it to the real ball game.
Maybe they think I'm a pet,
Well I've got all the diseases
I'm breaking out in sweat, you bet, because

I got, Mercury poisoning
It's fatal and it don't get better!
I got, Mercury poisoning
The best kept secret in the
we--est, hey the we--est.

The boys and me are getting real well known around town
But every time we try to spread the action
Someone always brings it down, down.
I ate the orange and I don't feel well
For them it's inconvenience for me it's hell.
The geriatric staff think we're freaks.
They couldn't sell kebabs to the Greeks, the geeks,
Inaction speaks, and

I got, Mercury poisoning
It's fatal and it don't get better!
I got, Mercury poisoning
The best kept secret in the
we--est, hey the we--est.

Is this a Russian conspiracy,
no it's just idiocy.
Is this a Chinese burn
I gotta dinosaur for a representative
It's got a small brain and it refuses to learn!

Their promotion's so lame
They could never ever take it to the real ball game.
Listen I ain't a pet,
I ain't a token hipster for your monopoly set
You bet because...

I got, Mercury poisoning
It's fatal and it don't get better!
I got, Mercury poisoning
The best kept secret in the
we--est, hey the we--est.


Now a triple live video treat from Graham Parker -- one original and two covers from the Mercury era: First, "Mercury Poisoning" from Japan in 1979... then "Hold Back The Night" from the BBC's "Top Of The Pops in 1977... and finally, "I Want You Back" (featuring some inaccurate voiceover in the beginning talking about Parker's first two albums "in 1969!").

Leon Russell -- "Tightrope" (1972)

Leon Russell was sort of the white man's Billy Preston -- he played on a ton of famous artists' albums and then struck out on his own.

Part of a group of Oklahoma musicians who migrated to LA's burgeoning recorded music scene (including Bread's David Gates), Russell was writing and playing on all kinds of hit songs throughout the 60's. He actually co-wrote one of my favorite 60's pop tunes, Gary Lewis & The Playboys' "She's Just My Style" and the Carpenters' made a signature tune out of their cover of his "Superstar."

Russell was jamming in everybody's band, bringing a flourishing rock style of piano that combined New Orleans ragtime and gospel blues feel. He had to of the most famous live gigs in the late 60's -- part of the all-star band on George Harrison's "Concert for Bangladesh" and having a few moments of his own with a "Jumping Jack Flash/Young Blood" medley... and Joe Cocker's "Mad Dogs and Englishmen" tour, where they slammed out their famous reworking of The Box Tops' "The Letter."

As was the case with many artists before the 90's, Russell cranked out solo albums that didn't sell much until fate smiled on his solo album Carney. It was probably one of those magic moments where the music just clicked with FM radio at the time, perhaps they were just getting used to his highly slurred voice, because I remember New York rock radio playing "Magic Mirror," "Roller Derby" and more than anything else, "Tightrope."

"Tightrope" was just a plain strange song, clearly the inspiration for the sideshow-like title of the album. Dealing out the metaphor of musician as circus performer, the song jaunted along like a see saw, with brief pauses for a kick drum pounding out three beats. The piano sounded detuned, like it had been played on and moved around for years. Russell's voice sounds like's it's slithering all over the place, on the verge of goofy, especially when he sings "like a rubber necked gi-raffe."

The most ingenious part of "Tightrope" was the break, where Russell plays traditional circus chords, while the snare builds up as if following a tightrope walker, and then he ends it with a schmaltzy C9th up the keyboard (Russell loved his 6th and 9th chords).

I'm up on the tightrope
one side's hate and one is hope
but the top hat on my head is all you see.

I'm up on the tight wire
one side's ice and one is fire
it's a circus game with you and me.

And the wire seems to be
the only place for me
a comedy of errors
and I'm falling.

Like a rubber-neck giraffe
you look into my past
well maybe you're just to blind to - see.

I'm up in the spotlight
ohh does it feel right
ohh the altitude
seems to get to me.

I'm up on the tight wire
flanked by life and the funeral pyre
putting on a show
for you to see.


I don't think the radio every really played any Russell album after Carney, but he's still raking in the royalties from one song in particular off that collection -- jazz guitarist George Benson turned "This Masquerade" into a cocktail jazz classic that sold a billion copies in 1976 and beyond.

Here's Leon Russell's original version of "Tightrope," followed by a solo live version from 2002, in his old hippie long white flowing beard and hat look. Notice how his mouth is so close to the microphone, that he looks like he's going to eat it.

America -- "Three Roses" (1971)

At first, it's not quite apparent why three Army brats with acoustic guitars would become a certified smash with their breezy, nonsensical hit "A Horse With No Name." You could not go three minutes without hearing that song on the radio with its "laa laa la-la-la-la" chorus and Neil Young-like singing.

Looking back, I'm convinced that these guys were kind of a musical bridge between the tumultuous 60's and the post-war early 70's. These good looking hippies were deeply rooted in acoustic folk music, and not threatening or singing about war or pain, but represented a safe nomadic freedom.

America didn't become a "pop group" in the formal sense until Warner Brothers paired them with Beatles producer George Martin three albums later. They were far more interesting when you could actually hear them playing their guitars. For all the grief the band took over the years from critics calling them wimps, there were far wussier acts (i.e. Air Supply, who I always thought epitomized the musical artist that truly needed to be shot and made to disappear immediately).

Because of those acoustic leanings, America were the poster boys for 70's soft rock. In 9th grade, one of my friends used to make fun of their sometimes obtuse lyrics. Later on in my college junior year, there was a guy named Sal down the hall who absolutely worshiped them, and a sure fire way to get him ticked was getting him drunk and making fun of America (hard to believe).

The debut album was a mixed affair. Besides the sand and congas "Horse With No Name" and the disaffected and sappy "I Need You," there were two cult FM radio hits -- the foreboding "Sandman" (with its hard A minor strums that everybody seems to recognize even now) and the brisk "Three Roses."

If you say "well, what did America really bring that was unique to rock music" and even though they may not be hip enough to ever be elected to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, "Three Roses" showed what would happen if you miked acoustic guitars very close, made the EQ quite airy on the high end and played full, open ringing chords -- their trademark for years to come.

When Fountains of Wayne's Adam Schlesinger was interviewed a couple of years ago about producing America's very recent Here and Now album (with former Smashing Pumpkins guitarist James Iha!), he actually cited loving those very same musical techniques. So if a pop whiz like Schlesinger could endorse America, then their hipness badge was finally earned. It's now totally acceptable to like America, even as a guilty pleasure.

"Three Roses" was just flat out ear-catching because of the aforementioned guitar style and an unusual set of chords concocted by America's Dewey Bunnell. You had a piercing A major 7th up the neck, an F#m 7th with an E bass, a very open E minor 9th then back to that F#m 7th, all accompanied by a lively conga player, then joined only by a warm and active electric bass. No drums. The strings were brushed across very fast so they almost sounded like a harpsichord to me. A light and pretty melody, slightly corny lyrics ("Three roses were bought/With you in mind") and uplifting harmonies.

For me, this was a perfect song to play along to because it was all big acoustic guitar chords. I was not used to playing the instrument with such big open chords at such fast speed. I used my pick to make the treble notes ring, especially on the Emin9th-A7th chorus, then figured out the solo that ends the last minute or so of the song, right until it transitions to an Fmaj7th-G pattern at the end.

Blue Magic -- "Sideshow"/"Stop To Start" (1974)

Any discussion of Blue Magic's Side Show has to begin with this observation: between classic Motown and 70's Philly soul, composers had the most incredible run of slogans, warnings, metaphors, plays on words and sayings incorporated into songs. That was a formula that couldn't miss. Bonus points for a mention of "mama."

"Shop Around." "Ball of Confusion." "You Can't Hurry Love." "Stop! In The Name of Love." "Signed, Sealed, Delivered." "The Tears Of A Clown." "The Hunter Gets Captured By The Game." "I Second That Emotion.""Can I Get A Witness." "Standing In The Shadows of Love." "ABC." "The Love You Save." "Love Train." "One Monkey Don't Stop No Show." "Want Ads." "Pay The Piper." "Crumbs Off The Table"

OK. Now I've got that out of my system...

The great Philly soul sound of the 70's was not just made by Gamble & Huff or Thom Bell, but other related production teams who just perfected was already in the bag. For Blue Magic, it was the WMOT team, starring producer Norm Harris, who packaged former members of the Delfonics and other local doo-wop groups (as was often the case), backed them with the legendary Philadelphia house band MFSB and out came the hits.

Could you tell the difference between Blue Magic and the Stylistics? Not really. But the quality was high in all cases.

Now it wasn't just the impeccable orchestral and brass arrangements, the major seventh chords, the corny lyrics, the glowing harmonies, the matching ruffled suits, or even the enviable falsetto of Ted Mills for groups like Blue Magic.

It was the moves.

Everybody was in classic precision with each other, much like the Motown groups like The Temptations and Gladys Knight & The Pips before them. There was always the lead singer -- kind of like the straight man who did his own thing -- and then there was the rest of the group, who twirled, swayed, and spun around in mechanical lock-step choreography.

Blue Magic's two incredible hits from 1974 -- "Sideshow" and "Stop To Start" were state of the art Philly soul musical productions with the robotic moves to match, true snapshots of an amazing era in soul performances. You have got to love the opening touches of "Sideshow" with the carnival barker calling: "Hurry! Hurry! Step right up and see the side show in town for 50 cents." And the chorus for "Stop to Start," that is inane when you think about it but it just works for this time period: "I only stop/So we can start all over again."

Special note: other real Blue Magic song titles (do you sense a gimmick?) -- "Three Ring Circus." "Born On Halloween." And the real album titles: The Magic of The Blue. How about Thirteen Blue Magic Lane?

Watch both of these 1974 videos from the TV show Soul Train because they are just unbelievable. A bit campy? Somewhat jaw dropping? Even I feel that way looking at them now and I lived through this back then! It's packaged soul music like we shall never see again.


STOP TO START / BLUE MAGIC　[レンタルサーバー]

The Doobie Brothers -- "Neal's Fandango" (1975)

Buying The Doobie Brothers' Stampede album in my final months of high school represented a sort of coming of age for me musically. It was the first time I had bought a full length 33 1/3 vinyl album without having heard one hit.

I already owned The Captain and Me, and God knows every kid who ever picked up a guitar in my neighborhood, including me, could play the riff to "China Grove." I felt like had to be ahead of the curve, before embarking into the unknown far away from home at college. This was going to be my my record collection that I was going to be packing up and taking with me, so it may as well contain the latest and greatest.

I guess I identified with this western-themed Stampede cover, heading to my own personal new frontiers. I had already heard the opening "Sweet Maxine" on FM radio, with its Billy Payne barrel house piano opening and roaring guitars. But it was the second cut, the fast-driving "Neal's Fandango" with its double drum propulsion, and steam engine chords that have stuck with me through the years.

Guitarist/singer Pat Simmons stuffed a ton of words into this three-minute song about being inspired by "beat" author Neal Cassady, and the thinly disguised druggie road trips that formed Jack Kerouc's On The Road novel. Rock stars like writing their road songs and this was Simmons' 100 mph wind-in-your-hair country-inflected literary take, complete with giddyap pedal steel and electric guitar solos.

I had to listen to the lyrics many, many times to get every word down, as Simmons really packed'em in in the second verse.


Well, a travelin' man's affliction makes it hard to settle down,
But I'm stuck here in the flatlands while my heart is homeward bound.

Goin' back, I'm too tired to roam, Loma Prieta my mountain home
On the hills above Santa Cruz, to the place where I spent my youth.

Well it was Neal Cassady that started me to travelin'
All the stories that were told, I believed them every one.
And it's a windin' road I'm on you understand,
And no time to worry 'bout tomorrow when you're followin' the sun.

Papa don't you worry now and mama don't you cry
Sweet woman don't forsake me, I'll be comin' by and by

Goin' back, I'm too tired to roam, Loma Prieta my mountain home
On the hills above Santa Cruz, to the place where I spent my youth.


Stampede has special meaning for me too, as this was the last album the Doobie Brothers would record in their original rocking incarnation before hiring Michael McDonald and adding lots of R&B & soul to their style, taking them to even greater commercial heights and a very different direction.

Below are two videos of the band performing the song live from different eras. The first is from February 1975, before the album was even released, when they were a full blown long-haired and mustachioed rhythm section attack with the unmistakable Jeff "Skunk" Baxter right there in the front with Simmons and fellow lead singer/songwriter Tom Johnston (they also play "Road Angel," from the earlier What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits album). Then there's the very gray and longer-haired Patrick Simmons with the 2004 incarnation of the band at Wolf Trap, now all polished, still cooking, but the audience is all polo-shirted baby boomers!

Tower of Power -- "Only So Much Oil In The Ground" (1974)

In the early 70's, Warner Brothers/Reprise Records had a counterculture-spiked advertising/promotional campaign that they ran in magazines like National Lampoon and Rolling Stone promoting their lively roster of artists including from Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, Wildman Fisher (!!), Norman Greenbaum, The Grateful Dead, Bonnie Raitt and Tower of Power. Featuring Robert Crumb-inspired art, they offered a free promotional record to sample their artists. It's hard to forget that promotion, as it appeared regularly and was given out at record stores.

Then sometime in 1974, still in high school, I read a rave review of the new Tower of Power album, Urban Renewal, singling out "Only So Much Oil In The Ground" as perceptive, topical, and... uh, funky. Then everybody started talking about that song. Maybe I heard it once on the radio, I don't exactly remember -- Tower of Power was never embraced by radio, for some reason.

But this was the heyday of record album buying, where I absorbed rock critics in newspapers and magazines, and if they thought this was outstanding, I was going to spend my $5 or $6 a buy the record. And that album cover was not exactly a big fish hook to reel'em in, a demolished building is not a pretty sight.

The first thing that hit me when I put the album on was everything. That bulldozer horn section knocks you over from the very opening of "Only So Much Oil" and really doesn't stop. Horns, drums, bass, organ -- all cooking at the same time. Unlike, say, a typical pop record which actually builds, layering on more instruments and licks, these guys operated on full steam for nearly every song.

Why wasn't the band on the cover? You could see them on the back cover in a tightly cropped photo -- this ensemble was nearly all white boys playing in your face soul and funk. Only keyboardist Chester Thompson and singer Lenny Williams were black. This was the same year the Average White Band broke through with a similar concept on "Pick Up The Pieces" (and they were not on their album covers either), so you'd think TOP would get their radio play with less obstacles by this time. Nope, and this was two years before Wild Cherry would just make fun of the whole thing with the classic "Play That Funky Music (white boy)."

Ironically, with a topical leadoff single and a staggeringly timely cover, the rest of Urban Renewal was not going to be the next socially-conscious What's Going On. Heavily influenced by James Brown's horn jams (except with twice as many brass players!), TOP swooped and cut like daredevils through funky numbers, all musicians at the top of their game, much like Frank Zappa always had the cream of the crop. This was the Oakland, California sound, patented in their previous album, Back To Oakland.

Everything was complex... but it totally cooked. There were swooning ballads ("Willing To Learn," "It Can Never Be The Same," "I Won't Leave Unless You Want Me To") and always the dizzying 6-minute instrumental jam (in this case, "Walking Up Hip Street"). Taking from the Motown tradition, they wrote lyrics based on old sayings, slogans, warnings, double entendres and metaphors -- "It's not the crime/It's if you get caught!" "Maybe it'll rub off!" "(To Say The Least) You're The Most."

To record a large group like this requires quite an engineering job and even on vinyl during those days, you couldn't help but be impressed by how these records sounded. Full of life, everything clear and crackling, giving the speakers the full workout.

The members of Tower of Power were always worshiped like musical gods, now in their 40th year. Co-founders Emilio Castillo, bassist Rocco Prestia and the professorial looking Stephen "Doc" Kupka always get the familiar screams and yells. David Garibaldi is known as one of the best funk and soul drummers anywhere (and I own his drum sample/loop disc "Tower of Funk"). Former saxophonist Lenny Pickett would do the wildest things on record and stage with that instrument, stoking the crowds into loud screams, shouts and whistles, and he would eventually leave to be in Saturday Night Live's house band. Trumpeter Greg Adams spent 25 years arranging the magical material until he left to release solo albums (and I own his loop/samples DVD, "Greg Adams Big Band Brass" -- check out the cool music on his web site).

The band has been through more lead singers than Spinal Tap has with drummers. Old school TOP fans still think Lenny Williams was the best of the long line, some of whom sounded eerily like the man himself.

I've seen them live half a dozen times and if you think they're a party on record, then you haven't seen nothing yet. A TOP concert is a bring down the house experience, with more people playing "air horns" and "air drums" than any other act I can think of.

I do have to give a tip of the hat to my friend down the hall at SUNY at Buffalo during freshman year, Doug Alpern, for coming armed to school with more TOP albums and opening the whole scene to me.

So here they are, live from the Montreux Jazz Festival in 2006, is Tower of Power knocking everybody out with "Only So Much Oil In The Ground," which still seems to be a timely message today.

The Greg Kihn Band and their live cover songs

I was updating my entry from two years ago for The Greg Kihn Band's Byrds-like cover version of Bruce Springsteen's "For You" with a homemade video, which brought up memories of seeing them perform at My Father's Place in Roslyn, LI back in 1981. "The Breakup Song" finally got him into the Top 40, but his biggest chart topper, "Jeopardy," was two yearsaway.

Kihn had toured relentlessly behind behind five very solid rock albums before "Jeopardy" become a hit and he put on a hell of a show. Real essence of rock and roll, stripped down, all emotion and sweat.

He's now the morning DJ at a classic rock station in San Jose, CA, still performing with a band, and even with four horror novels under his belt! And his son's name is Ry, after Ry Cooder, so there's more serious cool.

Finally found out what the striking five-sided guitar Kihn is always playing as his trademark: it's a Vox Phantom XII.

Springsteen returned Kihn the favor by giving him "Rendevous" for the With The Naked Eye album. Kihn loved doing covers, not only on albums, but in concert too. Let me share with you some of those live tunes on video, and you'll see what you're missing from a long time ago.

"Rendevous" (Bruce Springsteen)


"Roadrunner" (Jonathan Richman)


"For Your Love" (The Yardbirds)


"Sheila" (Tommy Roe)


"Higher and Higher" (Jackie Wilson)


"Telstar" (The Tornados) (this video from 1978)

Genesis -- "Mad Man Moon" (1976)

Although a number of albums made a huge and lasting impression on me during my four years at SUNY at Buffalo, one of the records that hit the hardest was Genesis' A Trick Of The Tail.

I certainly enjoyed my share of 70's heyday prog rock from Yes and Emerson, Lake & Palmer, but this was the first one that really cut to me emotionally. I was not a particular Genesis fan entering college, and about the only song I knew from the band was "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway."

What I was just discovering was that Buffalo was a city with musical tastes all its own, and living there, you couldn't help being widely exposed to artists that were not even registering a blip elsewhere. This was a Midwestern blue collar city by Lake Erie that happened to be located on the northwest corner of New York State, just a Peace Bridge ride to Canada and Toronto.

Much like Washington D.C. adopted Little Feat and Baltimore took in Crack The Sky, Buffalo was a Genesis city.

Although the release of A Trick of The Tail didn't even register with me, the album was soon blasting loudly through the UB dormitories, and when spring came, out the windows as often as Peter Frampton Comes Alive.

I succumbed to the incredibly melodic snapshots, sweeping Melotron strings, Steve Hackett's acoustic guitar arpeggios and ringing chords, and Phil Collins' numerous ripping drums. Each song was its own little story, with the characters illustrated on the front and back covers of the album: a nurse sedating her patient ("Entangled"), a hunter seeking a mythical creature that turns into a "pool of tears" ("Squonk"), a thief who constantly denies his guilt right up until his death ("Robbery, Assault and Battery"), and a mythical creature who outwits his captors ("A Trick Of The Tail").

All magnificent and epic, but the real stunner to me was keyboardist Tony Banks' "Mad Man Moon," a complex ballad of mixed time signatures, a shift from its E minor verses to a magical D flat major interlude in the middle, and then a yearning return to the verses. It was as close to classical Chopin preludes as Genesis was ever to get, and a true showcase of Banks' piano and synth skills. Only in the prog rock genre could you get away with a tale of lost love, mortality, and madness on an epic poetic journey such as this, all seven and a half minutes and not one moment wasted.

Was it summer when the river ran dry
Or was it just another dam
When the evil of a snowflake in June
Could still be a source of relief

Oh, how I love you, I once cried long ago
But I was the one who decided to go
To search beyond the final crest
Though I'd heard it said just birds could dwell so high

So I pretended to have wings for my arms
And took off in the air
I flew to places which the clouds never see
Too close to the deserts of sand

Where a thousand mirages, the shepherds of lies
Forced me to land and take a disguise
I would welcome a horse's kick to send me back
If I could find a horse not made of sand

If this desert's all there'll ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me, a fall of rain?
That must have been another of your dreams
A dream of mad man moon

Hey, man, I'm the sandman
And boy have I news for you
They're gonna throw you in gaol
And you know they can't fail
'Cause sand is thicker than blood

But a prison in sand is a haven in hell
For a gaol can give you a goal
A goal can find you a role on a muddy pitch in Newcastle
Where it rains so much, you can't wait for a touch
Of sun and sand, sun and sand

Within the valley of shadowless death
They pray for thunderclouds and rain
But to the multitude who stand in the rain
Heaven is where the sun shines

The grass will be greener till the stems turn to brown
And thoughts will fly higher till the earth brings them down
Forever caught in desert lands one has to learn
To disbelieve the sea

If this desert's all there'll ever be
Then tell me what becomes of me, a fall of rain?
That must have been another of your dreams
A dream of mad man moon.


Buffalo was certainly ahead of its time, as this was way before Genesis decided to go the pop route and hit the top 40. A Trick of The Tail was Genesis' first album after Peter Gabriel left the band, when they decided to put drummer Phil Collins in front of a mic and step into those big shoes. As assured as Collins was as a vocalist, this album belonged to Banks and guitarist Hackett, who both stepped forward with their respective instruments, and the former as a composer. Collins was pretty unknown -- his goofy persona and Motown phase were still a long way off, thank God.

Their next album, Wind & Wuthering, was a sequel of sorts to A Trick of The Tail, except they got a bit silly ("Wot Gorilla," "All In a Mouse's Night") and dipped their toe into the pop pool successfully to their own surprise ("Your Own Special Way"). After that album Hackett left, Genesis became a threesome, dropped the "prog" part of their style, and headed on the fast track to the Top 40. All those big hits like "Invisible Touch," "No Reply At All," and "In Too Deep" bore almost no resemblance to all that great music when they were with Hackett and Gabriel.