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.

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.

Brick -- "Dazz" (1976)

The golden eras of disco and funk overlapped in the 70's, and it seemed by the time I hit college in 1975, you couldn't go anywhere without hearing one or the other.

A certified rock and soul kid away from home for the first time, I couldn't get into most disco until years later, when it was more of a nostalgia. I must have been sheltered from all of it in high school, but once in the dorms of Buffalo, if you wanted to hang out at any club, you could not avoid the 4/4 four on the floor and synchronized hi hat.

Brick, and who knows where these guys were from (Atlanta, as I found out many years later), created this ingenious funk riff with clavinet chords, a thomping shuffle kick, a very splashy hi hat working the eighths, and what sounded like a clap and stick mixed together on the 2 and 4 beats. The beat swayed.

These guys were marketing savvy enough to call the style and the song "Dazz" -- "disco" and "jazz" merged together, except that while you could absolutely dance to it, it was definitely not disco in any traditional sense of the word. This was badass funk, not more than one step away from The Ohio Players, that you could jam to. This I had no problem getting into, although the lyrics, like most funk songs, were ridiculous. It was pretty much this...

Everybody go on and dance
If you want to.
Music makes your body move
Well all right!
Funky dancing get up
Get down, shake your booty.
Music makes your body move
Well all right!

Jazz dazz (disco jazz)
Jazz dazz (disco jazz)
Jazz dazz (disco jazz)
Jazz dazz (disco jazz)


OK, so the words were stupid, but that truly didn't matter.

I actually ran out and got a copy of their album Good High (!!!) because the song's full version had a lengthy flute solo and some insane squealing analog synth bass going "wo-o-o-owwww!" I couldn't care less about the rest of the album and I couldn't tell you another song these guys did. This was unquestionably one of the best party songs of the era and I wish instead of playing the same Motown and Aretha hits at weddings and bar mitzvahs, some DJ would be smart enough to lay this one down.

It's worth noting that after this song's success, Brick tried to make lightening strike twice with a follow-up called "Dusic" (!!) but that never made it! Wonder why?

Note to fellow music geeks: do not confuse this song or group with the Dazz Band, who came out later with the equally amazing "Let It Whip" (which truly had not a drop of jazz in it).

Believe it or not, I've got a few videos on this one. First, you have Brick performing "Dazz" live on the great old TV show "Midnight Special" and you'll note that they speed it up considerably. Then a sedentary homemade video of the long album version of "Dazz," which really is one of the mothers of all jams. Finally, some young white guy shows how he plays the electric bass to "Dazz" which was so entertaining, I had to add it. See -- great funk riffs never die, no matter how old you are!

Tommy Tutone -- "867-5309/Jenny" (1982)

This week's New Yorker magazine featured a small profile of former Tommy Tutone guitarist Jim Keller, co-writer of their biggest hit, "867-5309/Jenny." Keller is now living in New York City, running classical composer Phillip Glass' publishing company, and only recently performing in low key joints by himself.

If anybody doubts the staying power of this one-hit wonder from the New Wave era, look no further than Bruce Springsteen's recent "Radio Nowhere," which pretty much copped the riff right out from under the California band.

There can't be a New Wave CD compilation without "867-5309/Jenny" licensed for the deal. This was the perfect song for a time when skinny tie bands were still the rage, and people were still dancing to rock and roll. A jangly arpeggio riff, a singer who sounded like he had cotton in his mouth, a band named after a non-existent entity, and the requisite killed power pop hook.

Yes, there was plenty of phone number hysteria, and woe befell all those who had that phone number. And what's with the backwards slash in the title -- couldn't a parenthesis do the trick?

Although the band pretty much shot their load with this song -- they had three albums on Columbia Records -- they did have at least one other quality song which didn't quite scale the charts like "867" and that was "Angels Say No."

Below are two videos -- Tommy Tutone performing "867-5309/Jenny" in 1983 on the old ABC-TV Saturday Night Live rip-off "Fridays", and then a very cool one from 1979 of "Angels Say No," way before it appeared on an album, shot in Marin County. Jim Keller is wearing the green shirt in the first video and barechested in the second.

The Jim Carroll Band -- "People Who Died" (1980)

I'd been thinking of posting about Jim Carroll's one classic new wave/punk song not long ago when I just heard he died on Friday, September 11th of a heart attack at age 60.

In the late 70's, New York was at the height of the punk movement but at the same time, just scraping by through its financial crises. Carroll was a natural to join the musical fray, having written the underground college classic book "The Basketball Diaries," about his own downward spiral from aspiring street athlete to heroin junkie.

Carroll couldn't sing worth a damn, but he had a rather staggering spoken style of cadence infused with pain. When "People Who Died" came out, its title was easy to dismiss as a novelty number. After all, in the 70's, oddball songs did crack the Top 40.

But this was as startling a number as there could be -- a roll call of friends who OD'd or were brutally killed, all done to gatling-gun breakneck guitars and yes, it rhymed. As a matter of fact, the lyrics are so wild, he repeats them all over again, like a mantra of warning, regret and sadness.

Could you imagine anything remotely like this played on the radio now? No way.


Teddy sniffing glue, he was 12 years old
Fell from the roof on East Two-nine
Cathy was 11 when she pulled the plug
On 26 reds and a bottle of wine
Bobby got leukemia, 14 years old
He looked like 65 when he died
He was a friend of mine

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died

G-berg and Georgie let their gimmicks go rotten
So they died of hepatitis in upper Manhattan
Sly in Vietnam took a bullet in the head
Bobby OD'd on Drano on the night that he was wed
They were two more friends of mine
Two more friends that died.

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died.

Mary took a dry dive from a hotel room
Bobby hung himself from a cell in the tombs
Judy jumped in front of a subway train
Eddie got slit in the jugular vein
And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others
And I salute you brother.

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died.

Herbie pushed Tony from the Boys' Club roof
Tony thought that his rage was just some goof
But Herbie sure gave Tony some bitchen proof
"Hey," Herbie said, "Tony, can you fly?"
But Tony couldn't fly, Tony died.

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died.

Brian got busted on a narco rap
He beat the rap by rattin' on some bikers
He said, "Hey, I know it's dangerous, but it sure beats Riker's"
But the next day he got offed by the very same bikers.

Those are people who died, died
They were all my friends, and they died.



Carroll's "The Basketball Diaries" became an early Leonardo DiCaprio film many years later in 1995. Below is Carroll intercut with scenes from the movie. Jim Carroll, we salute you brother.

Hipsway -- "The Honeythief" (1986)

After spotting this CD secretly stashed in my friend's collection last night, I have decided to honor this prototypical New Wave one hit wonder single.

With the British taking American black soul styles and churning them back out for numerous New Wave hits (i.e. Paul Young, Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran, Phil Collins, etc.), Hipsway snuck in there at the end of the era for this dark white funk hit.

As a matter of fact, Hipsway remind me of Duran Duran for their clipped lyrics and sustained, snakey lead vocals. Besides all the catchiness and danceability in a mere 3 minutes and 15 seconds, the song's aura definitely comes from Grahame Skinner's deep menacing baritone lead vocals. When you are oozing out a song about the not-very-subtle "honeythief" of the title, that kind of tone is enough to excite all the girls who were listening in!

Sleek big cat, bible black
Honeysuckle I would never deny

The light of deep regret
Let me see what I don't get
The light of deep regret
Let me see what I don't get

Pass through the heat
Come on, come on and pass
Through the heat
Catch a thief, a honeythief
I am a thief, a honeythief

That's the price you pay
When love gets in the way
Stealth in the night
I come to steal with stealth
In the night
You got the sugar to satisfy
I am the man you can never deny

They sure knew had to make great singles in those days. The whooshing organ that comes out of nowhere for the middle break, the black background singers on the chorus, and that funky guitar line that rips off Spandau Ballet's "Chant No. 1."

But Hipsway was more than that one single. Like my friend, I also have that debut album which contained terrific singles that made it far bigger in the UK than the US, like "Broken Years" and the even more menacing "Ask The Lord."

In the official video, there's some vaguely weird about the African native clips cut in with the band performing and Skinner's strutting around.

The Vapors -- "Turning Japanese" (1980)

The absolute ultimate skinny tie New Wave one hit wonder band (and song) has to be this one by The Vapors, who came and went with this enduring power pop classic.

Leaving no Asian cliche unturned, this ultra-catchy guitar pop tune actually has lyrics worth analyzing because they are just freaky, bizarre and pretty funny. Let's just start right there:

I've got your picture of me and you,
You wrote I love you I love you too.
I sit there staring and there's nothing else to do.
Oh it's in color, your hair is brown,
Your eyes are hazel and soft as clouds.
I often kiss you when there's no one else around .

I've got your picture, I've got your picture,
I'd like a million of them all round my cell.
I asked the doctor to take your picture,
So I can look at you from inside as well.
You've got me turning up and turning down,
And turning in and turning round.

I'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so.
Turning Japanese I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so.
I'm turning Japanese I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so.
Turning Japanese I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so.

No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women,
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark.
Everyone around me is a total stranger,
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger, everyone.


The guy is clearly in an asylum, locked away and going nuts without his girlfriend (if she's even real), and now he's "turning Japanese?" With the whole Oriental octave guitar riffs to add to the whole cliche?

The killer line is "I asked your doctor to take your picture/So I can look at you from inside as well." Hmm, now just what does that imply?

Because of the tongue-in-cheek nature of "Turning Japanese," I don't think it cause much of a racial stir back then. But I wonder if the song was released now, or even covered by another band, would the political correctness police come storming down on it?

I mentioned the song to my Japanese physical therapist, and not only had he not heard of the song, he was kind of amused somebody wrote a song with that title. I don't know how he'd feel if he heard the lyrics and watched the video, but I am going to find a way.

The Vapors - Turning Japanese
Uploaded by mg217

Michael Murphey -- "Wildfire" (1975)

Boy, the things they dared to write about in the 70's soft rock era. "Wildfire" was a mid-tempo ballad about a ghost and her beautiful horse. Is that any better than Henry Gross crooning Beach Boys-style about his dog Shannon being swept out to sea and drowning? And America singing about "A Horse With No Name?"

It's possible that "Wildfire" has retained a small modicum of cool, simply because Michael Murphey sang it on David Letterman's show in May 2007. Paul Schaeffer even went to the trouble to learn the solo piano introduction.

Michael Murphey pioneered the whole "cowboy" thing with a soft rock production, a succesful trend hugely exploited by the "Urban Cowboy"soundtrack in 1980. Even now, many years after "Wildfire" was his one and only biggest hit, he markets himself as a "cowboy" as much as John McCain drops the word "maverick." He's a good looking guy with a beard and a ragged sort of wanderer look, and puts out albums of "cowboy songs."


She comes down from Yellow Mountain.
On a dark, flat land she rides,
On a pony she named Wildfire.
With a whirlwind by her side,
On a cold Nebraska night.

Oh, they say she died one winter.
When there came a killing frost,
And the pony she named Wildfire.
Busted down its stall,
In a blizzard he was lost.

She ran calling Wildfire. [x3]

By the dark of the moon I planted.
But there came an early snow.
There's been a hoot-owl howling by my window now.
For six nights in a row.
She's coming for me, I know,
And on Wildfire we're both gonna go.

We'll be riding Wildfire. [x3]


Sensitivity sold a lot of records in the 70's (see Dan Fogelberg, Eric Carmen), so "Wildfire" arrived at virtually the perfect time. You've got a good looking singer with a nice folksy voice, a gorgeous classical piano motif that both opens and closes the song, lots of nice major 7th chords, a poignant ghost story and a rousing chorus where there's a-whoopin' and a-hollerin' at the end.

In 1975, they ate that stuff up. Yes, there was a decent wimp factor, I'm not denying it. I remember not even knowing whether I was supposed to even like it or not when it came out. But I can filter out the slight sappiness because it's just really a very good song. I like that classical piano opening and closing, even if it does verge on the pretentious. When the song kicks in on smooth bounding major/major seventh chords, those high electric guitar notes can either be felt as "genuine wilderness outdoors" or "give me a break!"

So let's roll back to 1976, when Murphey performed "Wildfire" on TV's "Midnight Special."

Wild Cherry -- "Play That Funky Music" (1976)

The absolutely greatest one hit wonder party song of all time.

This one is absolutely tough to beat. "Play That Funky Music" was the song that when put on the stereo system at any party virtually guaranteed the place would go nuts. I don't know how many times I strategically placed this song on party tapes in the early to mid 80's for maximum impact. From Kew Gardens and Forest Hills to Fire Island, have song, will travel.

In the second half of my freshman college year, this song was unstoppable. It was the ultimate in-joke: the band being order to "play that funky music, white boy," that it was OK for white people to listen and dance to funk and disco (which for more subtler reasons implied that funk and disco were normally not associated with white people -- aha!).

Despite its noteriety as one hit wonder, at this critical cultural junction when disco was barging its way in, this was the most overt invitation for white rock and roll fans to drop the pretenses and dig the funky groove.

Of course, if you were repulsed by disco (and that included me), hearing a bunch of white guys sing about the glories of disco music in such a tongue in cheek way, accompanied by nothing less than a searingly wild electric guitar solo, your first thought may have been: "Heresy!"

But in what you might call "a self-fulfilling prophesy," the song was just too powerful for anybody, no matter what race, to resist its rascally charm, insanely funky distorted guitar lick, thumping drum beat, and the maniacal singing of Rob Parissi. In the pre-chorus, when he shouts "somebody turned around and shouted," the dance floor crowd literally turned around in a 360 degree circle in place. And believe me, everybody was screaming "Play that funky music, white boy!"

There was a funky singer
Playin' in a rock and roll band.
And never had no problems yeah
Burnin' down one night stands.
And everything around me,
Got to stop to feelin' so low.
And I decided quickly (yes I did),
To disco down and check out the show.

Yeah they was
Dancin' and singin'
and movin' to the groovin'
And just when it hit me somebody turned around and shouted
Play that funky music white boy.
Play that funky music right.
Play that funky music white boy.
Lay down that boogie and play that funky music till you die.
Till you die, oh till you die

Hey wait a minute
Now first it wasn't easy
Changin' rock and roll and minds.
And things were getting shaky
I thought I'd have to leave it behind.
But now it's so much better (it's so much better)
I'm funking out in every way.
But I'll never lose that feelin' (no I won't)
Of how I learned my lesson that day.

When they were
Dancin' and singin'
and movin' to the groovin'
And just when it hit me somebody turned around and shouted
Play that funky music white boy.
Play that funky music right.
Play that funky music white boy.
Lay down that boogie and play that funky music till you die. (Till you die!)


Playing "Play That Funky Music" is unacceptable at any party unless it is the full four and a half minute version, where you not only get the extra verse, but the song climaxes with a few repeats of the "play that funky music" line with big rousing choruses and that classic cowbell and then it just lifts up one key higher, and nirvana is reached. Talk about perfect timing!

The first time I saw Wild Cherry was in this video below from the TV show "Midnight Special," and I'm sure you'll love it as much as I do. Smack out of the 70's fashion handbook, there are the barechested musicians, nice 'fros, and the only two black guys in the band -- the horn players! I was surprised to see them playing Gibson guitars (or maybe I should not have been), as Gibsons have a heavier thicker tone more closely associated with rock than funk and disco. But after all, these were reformed rock and rollers "funkin' out in every way."

Phil Seymour -- "Precious To Me" (1981)

Phil Seymour is an important footnote in the history of power pop music. Although nowhere as well known as the big names of The Raspberries and Badfinger, Seymour was much loved in his brief career before passing away in 1993.

Seymour was one of the two power pop guns to come out of Tulsa -- the other was Dwight Twilley. As a matter of fact, Seymour and Twilley were signed to Shelter Records as The Dwight Twilley Band, both of them playing nearly all the instruments (Seymour played drums and bass). Out of nowhere, they had a huge single with "I'm On Fire," which would mark their style of simple major chord power pop with a distinct twangy guitar, usually courtesy of Bill Pitcock IV.

The pair fell out and Twilley hit the road as a studio musican, singing backup on a number of albums, including early Tom Petty. Signed to Boardwalk Records, Seymour's first solo album was like a poppier, cleaner version of the music he'd been doing with Twilley. For some reason, his adopted that striped half-sleeve shirt not only on his album cover, but his videos and live performances. I guess in a weird symbolic way, the style fit him, as his music was still quite simpley arranged power pop.

"Precious To Me" was his only big hit off the record, although there were many other great little songs on there. If "Precious To Me" was released 10 years earlier, it may have been some Frankie Valli hit (with a little of Bob Gaudio's production razzle dazzle, of course) or perhaps would have seemed right on the "Urban Cowboy" soundtrack in a honky tonk version a year earlier. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to keep it basic and simple, which "Precious To Me" is, not deep, not ornamented, but lots of Seymour vocal overdubs, a nice tambourine on the two and four beats, and an easy guitar lick.

Two "Precious To Me" videos: the first, the official black and white version, and then Seymour -- in red and black stripes -- performing it on a TV show.

Tonio K. -- "The Funky Western Civilization" (1978)

Where do you start with one of the most cult-like outrageous musical figures of the 70's, maybe ever? Guaranteed that most people who read this blog will have no idea who Tonio K. is, although he went on to write a bunch of 90's pop hits and lyrics for Burt Bacharach. Not kidding.

But let's rewind to late 1978, my college senior year, when I was a music writer for The Buffalo Evening News. The college paper, The Spectrum, solicited all of the local music critics for their top 10 albums of the year, and I noted a handful of votes for Tonio K.'s Life In The Foodchain.

I didn't know what that was, so requested a copy from Epic Records, and it arrived shortly in the mail on green vinyl. Being a rabid album credit reader, I noted a number of names I've seen many times before, like producer Rob Fraboni and guitarists Earl Slick, Albert Lee and Dick Dale.

Now granted, it took me about two or three spins to appreciate Life In The Foodchain. Accompanied by ragged tearing rock, Mr. K.'s voice was what you would call "an acquired taste." But first you had to get through the tons of lyrics of what can best be described as nine over-the-top satirical and misanthropic tales, of ecology gone wild (the title song), amorous vampires ("How Come I Can't See You In My Mirror?") to probably one of the most vicious (and hilarious) put down songs ever recorded ("H-A-T-R-E-D").

"The Funky Western Civilization" is about as close as what passed for a hit from that album. Hard-charging power chords and drums that careened into a genuinely funky James Brown chorus with horns, this was Tonio K.'s ironic very dance-able paean to society looking the other way in the face of self-destruction. Heavy satire to a dance beat.

Chicken-picked electric guitars give way to an R&B down on the farm screaming solo workout, and then, you what is probably the only musical cameo appearance in history by Joan Of Arc. Yes, that's what I said. Joan of Arc. In French. Why wait -- you've got read all the lyrics to appreciate this and believe me, there's more here than the entire Billboard Top 100 today put together:

Come on everybody
Get on your feet
Get with the beat
There's a brand new dance craze
Sweeping the nation
and it's called the funky... western... civilization.

Well there's a riot in the courthouse, there's a fire in the street
There's a sinner bein' trampled by a thousand pious feet.
There's a baby every minute bein' born without a chance
Now don't that make you want to jump right up and start to dance?

Let's do the funky
The funky western civilization
It's really spunky
It's just like summertime vacation .
You just grab your partner by the hair
Throw her down and leave her there.

They put Jesus on a cross, they put a hole in JFK,
They put Hitler in the driver's seat and looked the other way.
Now they've got poison in the water and the whole world in a trance,
But just because we're hypnotized, that don't mean we can't dance.

We've got the funky
The funky western civilization
It's really spunky
It's just like summertime vacation.
You just drag your partner through the dirt
Leave him in a world of hurt.

You get down
Get funky
Get western
(own up to it boys and girls)
And if you try real hard... maybe you can even get, you know, kinda civilized!

Joan Of Arc: Mesdames et messieurs, bon soir. This is Joan of Arc. Tonio has asked me to personally deliver a rather special message. He say he just cannot get enough of my 15th-century wisdom. He say he loves it when I talk with him like this. And after many a Saturday night of doing ze Funky Western Civilization together, I know for a fact he agrees with me when i say
[in French: You can bullshit the baker and get the buns,
You can back out of every deal except one!]

This is the funky
The funky western civilization
It's oh, so very spunky
It's just like summertime vacation
All's you gotta do is find some little kid somewhere
And throw him way up in the air
(never mind the parents)
Yes it's a funky
A funky western civilization
And it may seem kinda skunky, you know
But it's hitting every nation (all across the universe)
That's 'cause all's you gotta do is grab your partner by the hair
Throw her down and leave her there!

What did I tell you? And who is Tonio K. anyway, with the Franz Kafka moniker? Rumors circulated that was a former member of Buddy Holly's band The Crickets. Not really true -- he played in a band with those former members in the early 70's on a couple of albums. Wikipedia has a whole bio on the guy (real name: Steve Krikorian), who went hopping from record label to record label after Life In The Foodchain... understandable, given the unconventional nature of his work compared to the corporate rock of the 80's. And the biggest irony of them all is that he co-wrote one of 1993's biggest adult contemporary hits, Vanessa Williams' "Love Is."

Unfortunately, Tonio K. never made a video for his insane cult classic, but somebody has made one for him. Check it out and if you can, download the song for your collection.

Focus -- "Hocus Pocus" (1971)

Definitely file this under the "what the hell was that?" category. With prog rock roaring in the early 70's, the Dutch threw their hat into the ring, and as always, it was nothing less than interesting.

Focus had one of the most off-the wall instrumental hit singles of the decade, veering close to self-mocking and classical parody. The long version of "Hocus Pocus" was several minutes long, and guaranteed to be heard on the FM progressive rock stations at the time, while the much shorter single was on the AM and usually found in current compilations of the era.

You know the prog rock cliches and they were all here, regardless of where these guys came from: long hair, high-speed quasi-classical precision flourishes on their instruments, high-pitched vocals, unusual time meters and key changes, largely expanded drum kits, and those analog synths.

The song revolves around guitarist Jan Akkerman's highly distorted rock riff front and center, starting on A minor and working its way around some unusual progressions, then breaks into the song's signature yodeling melody. Yes, leave it to the Dutch to bring yodeling to prog rock. The yodeling, done by organist Thijs van Leer, sings out a nonsensical melody, and then gets higher and higher until you expect thousands of sheep to come herding in.

If you listen to the full version, van Leer's vocals get even wackier in one verse, where it seems like he's choking on an Irish jig (at least that's what it sounds like to me!). They even chuck in a Viking-ish flute break, as if the kitchen sink wasn't thrown in already.

A joke on the audience? A sophisticated out-of-the-blue show of musical and vocal chops? Whatever it was, this song was an FM radio staple but then again, radio was embracing a lot of strange stuff in 1971, from the ridiculous Mac and Katie Kissoon's "Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep" and Coven's "One Tin Soldier" to the icky "Stay Awhile" and "Put Your Hand in The Hand."

"Hocus Pocus" is far better and outlived all that pap, and now considered a respectable classic rock song.

The October 1973 video below from NBC-TV's "Midnight Special" is quite entertaining, from Gladys Knight's unlikely introduction ("Musically, they're one of the most exciting and together groups going") to van Leer's bizarre nervous tic facial expressions before, during and after yodeling.

The Five Stairsteps -- "Ooh-Child" (1970)

One of the most enduring one-hit wonder soul songs of all time, you just can not help but love the Five Stairsteps' claim to musical fame. It stands up amazingly well after more than 35 years with its dazzling optimism, impassioned vocals, emotionally-charged arrangement, and irresistible melody.



I have vague memories of the song playing on Top 40 radio. The song's timing was perfect, coming at the turn of the decade when blacks were fighting for equal opportunity in jobs and education, and the musical tide was turning with socially-driven artists like Curtis Mayfield, the Norman Whitfield-powered era of The Temptations, Marvin Gaye's What's Going On, and The Staple Singers. What makes "Ooh Child" stand out on its own is its inherent sweetness, letting listeners read between the lines of its upbeat message of hope.

The lyrics basically come down to these two passages:

Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oo child, things'll get brighter
Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oo child, things'll be brighter.

Some day, yeah
We'll put it together and we'll get it all done.
Some day
When your head is much lighter.
Some day, yeah
We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun.
Some day
When the world is much brighter.


Musically, the song is truly marvelous. The "Ooh child" verses are a descending three-chord pattern while the "Someday" verses take the same chords up three steps. Between the two, it creates a "softness" during the verses, and strident fuller choruses with the whole family joining in accompanied by horns and strings. The song really kicks into overdrive during the instrumental break when the whole group is singing "La la la" as the melody, then the drummer does a hyper-fast snare and tom fill when it lifts up those three keys, and everybody is just soaring in layered choruses. The ending is just perfect, when the family hammers in "Right now" while ad-libbing around it, the horns popping in and out.

You want to see an amazing video, check out this one with the group performing the song live on the "Barbara McNair" TV show a year or so after the song became a hit and they now called themselves the Stairsteps. The clothes are right out of the early 70's quasi-white flash look, and you can see somebody actually conducting the band behind the singers. These guys are totally into it, and you absolutely realize why this song still brings chills. Wow.

Sniff 'n' The Tears -- "Driver's Seat" (1978)

One of the very best in New Wave one hit wonders, Sniff 'n' The Tears' "Driver's Seat" had a fast four on the floor beat, led by the constant snare drum snap on the 8th notes. This was a rock toe-tapper in every sense of the word, backed by the hard acoustic guitar strums of lead singer/songwriter Paul Roberts, all based on three chords.

New Wave was probably the last great period of danceable rock and roll, with plenty of short named bands, or just slightly twisted ones like these guys. "Driver's Seat" was made for the skinny tie crowd with that pulsating snare beat.

Tightly arranged, "Driver's Seat" has a very cool production trick at the song's start that bears a few listenings. I'm actually convinced it may have been an accident. The song's three acoustic guitar chords are played hard twice through, then the drums come in with that precision beat, but it sounds like somebody let the reverb go on for a couple of seconds, and then dial it back quickly back down down. It's a slightly subtle effect, and if you listen to the official video below in the first 10 seconds, you'll distinctly hear it.

"Driver's Seat" is one of the New Wave era's two big driving songs (the other was the Tom Robinson Band's "2-4-6-8 Motorway"), much in classic rock's tradition like Golden Earring's "Radar Love" and Thin Lizzy's "The Boys Are Back In Town." You crank it up in the car for a few good reasons -- 1) the pulsating beat, 2) it's about driving and 3) it's a great song, so what other reason do you need?


Doing alright, a little drivin' on a Saturday night.
And come what may, gonna dance the day away.


Jenny was sweet, show a smile for the people she meets.
I'm trouble, let's drive, I don't know the way you came alive.


News is blue (the news is blue), has its own way to get to you.
What can I do (what can I do), when I remember my time with you.


Pick up your feet, got to move to the trick of the beat.
There is no lead, just take your place in the driver's seat.


Paul Roberts had the required disaffected lead singer tone of New Wave bands, his being a bit light and rough around the edges. The background vocals are derivative of doo wop, of all things, with a basso singer doing the "yea-aah" during the brilliant a capella break, and at other times, brilliantly echoing some of the lines with shuffled variations ("What can I do-o-o-o?").

Other highlights: fuzz guitar lines, octave guitar chords, and the square wave synth solo that twists and turns around the last part of the song.

Got to love the fact that you can buy a "Best of Sniff 'n" The Tears" CD, but there was only one real hit for the band. Below is the official video, which is amusing for three reasons 1) Paul Roberts is playing an electric Fender Telecaster but the part is an acoustic guitar, 2) the band's debut album cover conveniently laid across the prominently viewed kick drum, and 3) the cheek and sexist camera pulling away from that kick drum revealing the drummer placed perfectly between a pair of girl's legs. That's followed by the band's appearance on "Top Of The Pops" (Where Roberts at least has the acoustic guitar this time!).

SNIFF 'N' THE TEARS - Driver's Seat ( 1978)
Uploaded by exDrBob

Tasmin Archer -- "Sleeping Satellite" (1992)

Did you ever hear a song somewhere that made you stop and say, wow, what a voice... and what a song?

That was the case with Tasmin Archer, when I bought one of those various artist compilation discs on a London trip. I've got a bunch of these at home, all stuffed with UK Top 40 and indie label hits at the time of their release.

I had no idea who Tasmin Archer was, but when this song came on right after Annie Lennox's "Walking On Broken Glass," I was like wow, let me play that again. And I did... many times over. "Sleeping Satellite" barely scratched the surface of anything resembling a hit in the States, it made a brief blip and was then gone, so it became my song to put on friends' mix tapes and turn them on. In the UK, "Sleeping Satellite" went right to #1.

The first thing that grabbed me was this nearly cold opening right on the song's dramatic chorus with a forcefully strummed minor chord on an acoustic guitar and startling lyrics sung by an equally strident female voice and nothing else:

I blame you for the moonlit sky
and the dream that died
with the eagle's flight.
I blame you for the moonlit nights
when I wonder why
are the seas still dry?
Don't blame this sleeping satellite...

In an example of a singer/songwriter matched with an arrangement that matches her vocal command, "Sleeping Satellite" then just gallops with a breezy snare, piano and lightly chorused guitar. And it's not until the end of the second verse when Archer really lets the bottom drop in her voice with guttural declaration:

Did we fly to the moon too soon?
Did we squander the chance?
In the rush of the race
in the reason we chase is lost in romance
and still we try
to justify the waste
for a taste of man's.. greatest adventure.

And it's on those "greatest adventure" words where she powers it up like a chainsaw and you know you are heading into an emotional ride, a really great song.

With every subsequent chorus, more instruments come into the mix, the beat picks up slightly, the drums, guitars and keyboards increasing in volume and urgency, a handclap blending with the beat after the break, and a simple slightly detuned organ notes gliding around.

I found a copy of Archer's debut album, Great Expectations, released on EMI, and I noticed on the cover that she was an attractive black woman singing rock. Of course, my initial thought was "here's another Tracey Chapman." Except where Chapman's sound was raw, dark and based in blues and protest music, Archer was much smoother and carried by London's top studio musicians. Unfortunately, nothing else on the album could match the impact of "Sleeping Satellite."

Online, there are two different "official" videos for "Sleeping Satellite": the hokey somewhat gothic-visualed British version (I don't know what they could have possibly been thinking) with the song's original mix; and the completely different US version, which is fairly better and a different mix (with a noticeable electric guitar solo at the end).

There are also numerous cover versions done by various artists from European countries, including a very slow "quiet storm" acoustic version by some Barcelona band, and a remix to a hip hop drumbeat!

I'm going to spare you the UK video, and give you Archer's live performance on "Top of The Pops," followed by a really beautifully done anime cartoon using "Kingdom Hearts" clips done to the song (excellent acoustics too). Listen to this second one in how the drums get pushed up front when Archer finishes the second verse -- that's how to mix and arrange a song!

Malo -- Suavecito (1972)

Why did Carlos Santana become the five-decade legend and Latin Rock pioneer, while his brother Jorge's band just squeak out this one marvelous classic?

Was Carlos' material that much more superior? Was the marketplace only taking one Santana at a time?



In the magical early 70's, when artists were not manufactured from reality TV shows, MTV didn't exist and FM radio was not the playground of consultants and publicly-traded corporations, could a song like this make the Top 40. Looking back, there were so many songs that you could consider flukes, both good and bad, but they became hot numbers because the radio business was different and the public was still absorbing an art form in its early years.

I am not familiar with any of Malo's other material other than "Suavecito" and there's not much rock to it, but plenty of "Latin." We're talking about a mambo, for God's sake, that topped the Billboard chart in 1972! There were no high-up-the-fretboard guitar antics, but tons of guiros, timbales, bongos, congas and shakers. Oh, and that joyful Latin trumpet like a Mongo Santamaria workout.

"Suavecito" was a mid-tempo romantic song, a really out of this world swooner.

Never, I never meet a girl like you in my life
I never, no, no, yeah
I never meet a girl like you in my life

The way that you hold me in the night
The way that you make things go right
Whenever you're in my arms
Girl, you're filling me with all your charms

Suavecito, mi Linda
Suavecito
The feelin' I have inside for you
Suavecito, mi Linda
Suavecito

The feelin', the feelin' that I have inside for you
'Cause ever since the day I met you
I knew you that you were my dream come true
But I think I've found that day
Gonna make you mine in every way

The group-sung "la-la-laaa-la-la-la" hook that is heard throughout "Suavecito" was lifted by Sugar Ray for their 1999 "Every Morning" hit. I once pointed that out to my former staff, since they had never heard of "Suavecito" but they certainly knew the Santana surname.

Enjoy these two clips of "Suavecito" -- 1) a live 1972 performance from the TV show "Rollin'" which shows what a large band Malo was... note the host's mispronunciation of Jorge's name... you may think that's Jorge Santana singing the song up front with his timbales, but that's song composer Richard Bean (Santana was a guitarist), and 2) a homemade video of the full 6-minute version of the song.

The Bells -- "Stay Awhile" (1971)

Once a year, an early 70's piece of fluff comes on the radio that causes such personal revulsion and such disbelief in its inanity, that I will actually listen to the whole thing in very much the way people check out car crashes on the side of the highway. It's a rarely-played song that happened to play this morning over XM Radio's 70's channel on my drive to the train station. I had to remind myself that this song actually was a hit.

And that song is The Bells' "Stay Awhile."

This is not one of those things that is "so bad, it's good." It's just bad.

"Stay Awhile" was one of the bigger soft rock horndog hits at the time, a duet of a girl and a boy having the most sensitive caring sex of their lives. Sylvia's "Pillow Talk" was probably even steamier," but it at least had slightly more redeeming value (just slightly).

When "Stay Awhile" comes on, you feel like you should be lighting scented candles, hanging posters of kittens and sunsets on the walls, and popping the bottle of wine you've been hiding in the fridge. It's all soft acoustic guitar arpeggios, piano chords, fizzy cymbal rolls, finger chimes, and light drums with a rimshot keeping the beat. As a matter of fact, the volume level of the whole song is defiantly low, like it was made to be played when seducing the chick in the dorm room next door.

The girl starts first, whispering in the most come hither voice made for phone porn you've heard on a song, and you're half expecting her to break into a giggle. Every syllable is clearly enunciated and the ending "s" is held slightly for effect (notably on "creeps" and "peeps").

Into my room he creeps,
Without making a sound.
Into my dreams he peeps,
With his hair all long and hanging down

How he makes me quiver,
How he makes me smile.
With all this love I have to give him,
I guess I'm gonna stay with him awhile.


Then it's the boy's turn and this was nothing macho about this. He sings just as softly, describing the babe that just entered his bedroom with nerve-wracking anticipation.

She brushes the curls from my eyes,
She drops her robe on the floor.
And she reaches for the light on the bureau.
And the darkness is her pillow once more.

How she makes me quiver,
How she makes me smile.
With all this love I have to give her,
I guess I'm gonna stay with her awhile.


Then there's the harmonica solo.

The couple sing the chorus a few more times together, it slows down and the girl sighs and whispers "I guess I'm gonna stay" just as the final chord fades.

You can throw up now.

Ian Lloyd -- "Slipaway" (1979)

Off the top of my head, this seems like the only song Ric Ocasek gave away that became something of a cult New Wave hit.

Luckily it landed in the hands of Ian Lloyd, better know as the lead singer of another one hit wonder band, Stories (interracial love tale "Brother Louie," which was also a cover tune).


Lloyd had been singing background on various song and albums. When he cut this solo album Goose Bumps for Scotti Brothers Records, this was the one tune written and produced by Ocasek, featuring all his fellow members of The Cars. The song's original demo can be found on the double-album Just What I Needed: Cars Anthology, but this version beats it by miles.

"Slipaway" is best described as a 60's party song as remade by Ocasek. It's faster than most Cars songs, probably as fast as "Don't Cha Stop" from the debut album. It's got an absolute pumping beat, with a matching bass going up and down with it and a killer analog synth hook that sounds suspiciously like a really old Virginia Slims cigarette commercial (now I know I'm really dating myself!). Lots of hand claps, heavily shouted background vocals of "That's right" and some cool bottle rocket effects that make the whole production seem like it's going to explode.

Trademark Ocasek lyrics: obtuse, name-dropping, and a bit of biting sarcasm...

I can tell that you're wild
and you love their aching smile
and I know I'm on the list to be kissed.

When you're givin' out the name
of the one you want to blame
you'll be on the brink of tears, that's right

Could I talk you out of stayin' here tonight?

Well I see that you're cute
in your Fiorucci suit
and your eyes have seen the shadows that you hide.

I could be a little sweet
that would come off very neat
you'd be on the brink of tears, that's right

Could I talk you out of stayin' here tonight?

And of course, you can clearly hear Ocasek singing back to Lloyd "something's gotta change now" during the chorus.

This is one tough little record to get. The album is long out of print and I don't know of any collections it can be found on. Truly one of the great rare singles of the New Wave era.

But somebody has done us all a favor and put together a neat little video for the song, so kudos to them!

The Outfield -- "Your Love" (1986)

For years, I've had this theory that when a major musical artist disappears for a while, or maybe they no longer record, sometimes another act appears that sounds just like them and gets a hit single out of it.

Previously on this blog, I noted the group Flash mimicked prog rockers Yes for their one single "Small Beginnings." Other examples: when Springsteen took years between albums, questionable acts like Billy Falcon, D.B. Byron, and some say Meatloaf stepped into the void.

The theory definitely holds true for the English band the Outfield, and their one big hit single "Your Love," which could have been easily mistaken for The Police, who broke up two years before this tune appeared. For a clone song, it is very good and you have to give credit where credit is due.

The lead singer sounds almost exactly like a yelping Sting. The instrumentation is sparse and the guitars are heavily chorused, just like The Police. The drums are compressed and gated, just like the Police. The group is British, just like the Police, yet they have a very American name, tagged after a sport that never ever caught on in the UK.

So if you can forget that these guys are soundalikes, you have a great well-arranged little pop-rock single that made it to #6 on the US charts. The song starts "cold" -- no intro -- just vocals and only a heavily chorused rhythm guitar accompanying on D, Bm and A chords:

Josie`s on a vacation far away, 
Come around and talk it over 
So many things that I wanna say 
You know I like my girls a little bit older.
I just wanna use your love tonight. 

Then the overdubbed background vocals echo "I don't wanna lose your love toni-ight."

Two big simultaneous smashes on the snare and hi hat, and the whole band drops in, with the
bass anchoring that mid-tempo beat and the drums miked all over for airy ambiance, pounding like a train engine.

The little thing you notice in this song: when the singer goes back to just his voice over a drum this time, the beat pattern changes to a Phil Spector-type "bum...bum-bum" like the kind you hear on the beginning of The Four Seasons' "Rag Doll." Just a cool little touch to keep things interesting in the middle.

Two albums later, still unable to recapture the heat of "Your Love," the Outfield released Voices of Babylon, produced by David Kahne, which I consider one of the sleeper rock albums of the 80's. Not one hit off this album, unfortunately, but the songs are actually far more consistent than Play Deep, with lots of delays and reverbs moving them slightly more away from The Police sound.

Here's the official video of "Your Love," which has an extended intro.

Bloodstone -- "Natural High" (1973)

As with the earlier discussed Chi-Lites from Chicago, the early 70's was an overflow of doo wop-based soul and R&B acts who evolved with better production, more elaborate arrangements, and on-the-nail songwriting.

Like the Chi-Lites, Bloodstone came from the Midwest -- Kansas City -- and began as the doo wop group the Sinceres. in the early 60's. Toiling along for years in relative obscurity, Bloodstone actually did what the Stray Cats did nearly 10 years later, go to London to find fortune and fame. And when they came back, they came back big with "Natural High."

A prototypical early 70's soul ballad, "Natural High" had a piercing falsetto lead, light as a feather background vocals, and that kind of slow jam groove made for swaying back and forth. The song begins with a striking see-saw opening with the Strat playing the lead line, an occasional bell in the background, then in drops down with the bass, stops, and then three spectacular stuttering snare and kick drum fills for an intro. Throughout the song, there are jazzy guitar runs going up the fretboard, the group whispers "I... don't... know... you," and then the song changes tempo altogether for a melodic clean Gibson solo that races all over the high register, swallowed up by that old "ahh" breathing out vocal trick into the next verse.

There's also one of those "little things" that sort of watermark the song: in the verse after the first chorus, they sing: " If you have anything to do/Call me and I will do it for you/And I don't even know you." Just before he goes into the next verse, it sounds like they're whispering: "Hey Jeannie." You can definitely hear it on the "Soul Train" video below.

For some reason, despite having really shot their biggest load with "Natural High," Bloodstone convinced somebody two years later to finance a film starring the group, Train Ride To Hollywood. I remember the film vaguely coming out, and wondering how it actually got made and who would see it. I don't know if anybody did, but you can still get a used DVD of it from Amazon. Reading the IMDb plot description, I can understand why it wasn't exactly up there with Superfly and Shaft: "Harry Williams, member of the rhythm & blues band Bloodstone, is about to go onstage for a concert when he is hit on the head. The rest that follows is his dream. The four band members become conductors on a train filled with (impersonated) actors and characters from the 1930s such as W.C. Fields, Dracula, and Scarlett O'Hara. Patterned after movies by the Marx Brothers and the Beatles, 'Train Ride' features various songs. The thin plot requires the singing conductors to solve a mystery; Marlon Brando is murdering Nelson Eddy, Jeanette McDonald, and others by suffocating them in his armpits. Arriving in Hollywood, the Bloodstone boys are turned into wax sculptures by Brando."

However, the biggest compliment for "Natural High," certifying it as ultra-cool, is that Quenin Tarantino used it prominently in his film Jackie Brown, when Robert Forster first sees the title character, played by Pam Grier (see video below).

Before that video, Bloodstone performing "Natural High" on Don Cornelius' "Soul Train" TV show. I love that each guy is playing a different guitar, from the black and white Strat all the way ont he left, and then, from left to right, a gold-plated Gibson Les Paul, a Fender bass, a Fender Telecaster, and what looks like a black semi-hollow-bodied Gibson (I think). Am I imagining things when I hear the vinyl crackle on this lip-synch performance?
Soul Train 1973 - Bloodstone -Natural high