1970s – Page 7 – PowerPop… An Eclectic Collection of Pop Culture

Max’s Drive-In Movie – MAS*H

I pulled out this 1970 movie the other day and ended up enjoying it even more than I did years ago. When I first saw it back in the ’80s, I’d been expecting something different because of the television show. At first, I was confused, but the longer I watched, the more it thrilled me. If you only know MASH from television reruns with Alan Alda smirking through battlefield banter, the 1970 film that started it all might feel like a grenade lobbed into your expectations.

Robert Altman’s MASH isn’t a gentle sitcom. It’s raw, irreverent, chaotic, and somehow all the better for it. This is the war movie for people who hate war movies. It doesn’t glorify anything. It just throws you into the blood, the absurdity, and the humor of a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital during the Korean War, but let’s be real, this is Vietnam by another name. They just couldn’t say it at the time.

What strikes you about the movie is that it looks real. You don’t see a nice clean Army camp; you see authentic rubble, which captures the hopelessness of it all. Altman shot this film like a jazz improvised session. Overlapping dialogue, handheld cameras, and actors wandering through the frame like no one gave them a blocking direction. It feels messy because it is messy. War is messy. And MASH knows that the only way to survive it might be to laugh, so you forget where you are.

The plot? Loosely structured at best. You follow a pair of too-smart-for-their-own-good surgeons, “Hawkeye” Pierce and “Trapper” John McIntyre, as they drink, prank, operate, and generally wreak havoc behind the front lines. And when I say wreak havoc, I mean mocking authority, goading a desk jockey into a breakdown, and broadcasting a fake-suicide funeral for a lovesick dentist.

The cast, Donald Sutherland (Hawkeye), Elliott Gould (Trapper John), Tom Skerritt (Duke), and Sally Kellerman (Hot Lips Houlihan), weren’t exactly marquee names in 1970. Allegedly, Sutherland and Gould, suspicious of Altman’s loose approach, actually tried to get him fired during production. They failed. Years later, they admitted Altman was right all along.

Altman’s rebellious methods created friction with the studio, too. He refused to follow the traditional film shooting formula. He shot scenes with actors talking over one another, dismissed explanations, and downplayed narrative story arcs. Altman called it “anti-movie making,” and it became his signature style.

And that theme song? “Suicide Is Painless.” Written by Altman’s 14-year-old son, no less. A haunting lullaby for the down-and-out, it creeps under your skin and stays there long after the credits roll. The movie was based on a novel written by former military surgeon Richard Hooker.

Hotlips O’Houlihan: [referring to Hawkeye] I wonder how a degenerated person like that could have reached a position of responsibility in the Army Medical Corps!
Father Mulcahy: He was drafted.

…

Joe Ely – Boxcars

I keep going back to the Texas songwriters whenever possible. Joe Ely was the first, other than Townes Van Zandt, who placed me on that road. I think all of them were born with an acoustic guitar, wit, pen, with paper in hand. So many of them write wonderful melodies and lyrics that any songwriter would drool over. Boxcars captures everything great about Texas songwriting in one cold, mournful ride.

Ely was born in Amarillo in 1947 and raised in Lubbock, Buddy Holly’s hometown and a surprisingly fertile ground for musicians. Ely came of age surrounded by dust storms, flat horizons, and rock ‘n’ roll. By the late ‘60s, he was friends with a couple of brilliant kids named Butch Hancock and Jimmie Dale Gilmore. Together, they formed The Flatlanders, a band that barely made a dent at the time but later became a blueprint for alt-country and Americana.

This song was written by Butch Hancock, a close friend and collaborator of Joe Ely. This was on his second solo album called Honky Tonk Masquerade released in 1978. The album is in the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die and was 40 on Rolling Stone’s 50 Essential Albums of the ’70s list. Ely’s first album was released in 1977. He met The Clash the following year in London and both liked each other. They both toured together a bit after that. Ely sang backups on the Clash hit Should I Stay or Should I Go.

He was also involved with a personal favorite pickup band with John Mellencamp called The Buzzin Cousins. He is revered in the music business and by fans alike. He also played in the Los Super Seven. Thanks, halffastcyclingclub, for pointing them out to me a while back. I still need to write one up.

His voice in this one is golden. It’s in Ely’s delivery, equal parts resigned and reverent, like he’s singing about someone he knew once, or maybe used to be.

Boxcars

Well, I gave all my money to the banker this monthNow, I got no more money to spendShe smiled when she saw me comin’ through that doorWhen I left she said, “Come back again”

I watched them lonesome boxcar wheelsTurnin’ down the tracks out of townAnd it’s on that lonesome railroad trackI’m gonna lay my burden down

I was raised on a farm the first years of my lifeLife was pretty good they sayI’ll probably live to be some ripe ol’ ageIf death’ll just stay out of my way

This world can take my money and timeBut it sure can’t take my soulAnd I’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksWatch them lonesome boxcars roll

There’s some big ol’ Buicks by the Baptist churchCadillacs at the Church of ChristI parked my camel by an ol’ haystackI’ll be lookin’ for that needle all night

There ain’t gonna be no radial tiresTurnin’ down the streets of goldI’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksAnd watch them lonesome boxcars roll

Now, if you ever heard the whistle on a fast freight trainBeatin’ out a beautiful tuneIf you ever seen the cold blue railroad tracksShinin’ by the light of the moon

If you ever felt the locomotive shake the groundI know you don’t have to be toldWhy I’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksAnd watch them lonesome boxcars roll

Yeah, I’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksAnd watch them lonesome boxcars roll

…

Max’s Drive-In Movie – Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid

I saw this movie for the first time in the early nineties in my apartment, which I shared with a cousin. I watched it initially for Bob Dylan, but ended up loving the movie. This movie, above all else, treats silence better than any other movie I’ve seen. The characters get to breathe. No one is in a hurry, but when action happens, it makes it all the more dramatic.

In Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, director Sam Peckinpah trades the mythic grandeur of the Old West for something slower, lonelier, and far more tragic. This is a Western all about finality, a farewell to freedom, friendship, and the open frontier. Pechinpah created a great movie out of this.

Set in 1881 New Mexico, the film dramatizes the final days of William Bonney, better known as Billy the Kid (played by Kris Kristofferson) as he’s hunted down by his former friend turned lawman, Pat Garrett (James Coburn). There’s no rush to the inevitable confrontation. Instead, the film moves slowly with purpose, soaking in the dusty landscapes, long silences, and uneasy glances between men who understand their roles in their vanishing world.

Coburn delivers a wonderful performance as Garrett, a man who’s made peace with compromise but not with himself. Kristofferson, younger and looser, plays Billy with charm and recklessness. Their scenes together are understated but filled with unspoken history and mutual resignation. It stands as one of the most introspective and mournful Westerns ever made. It’s not a shoot-’em-up spectacle; it’s a meditation on regret, inevitability, and the bitter cost of survival.

The studio clashed with Peckinpah and released a terrible version in 1973 that was a pale version of Peckinpah’s vision. It was jagged, choppy, and stripped of its emotional weight. Critics panned it. Audiences stayed away. Like many films ahead of their time, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid didn’t stay buried. A bootlegged “preview print” started circulating in the 80s—rougher but far more coherent. It showed what Peckinpah had been aiming for: a slower, sadder, more deliberate tone piece about friendship, death, and the slow extinction of the outlaw soul. Critics and fans alike loved his original version.

In 2005, a “Special Edition” came out, restoring much of what had been lost (though not fully satisfying the purists). Still, it was enough to elevate the film from cult obscurity to a rightful classic. And make no mistake…it IS a classic!

I never thought about cinematography until recently, but John Coquillon did a hell of a job on this movie. It looks beautiful, and the landscapes jump out at you as you watch.

Now let’s talk about the soundtrack by Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan was in the movie and did a good job, but it’s the soundtrack that will be remembered. This isn’t your typical Dylan record. It’s mostly instrumental, often minimalist, and was stitched together for the film. But what you get here is an eerie, atmospheric tone throughout the entire album. Let’s get this out of the way: Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door is the anchor, the standout, the one track that broke free and carved a permanent space in classic rock airwaves. It’s a song so simple it feels like it always existed. Unfortunately, it overshadows the other songs, which I like a lot. Billy 1, Turkey Chase, Bunkhouse Theme, and the rest. It’s an album I like to put on and just soak it in and relax.

…

Ace Frehley – New York Groove

Only in the glittery excess of the late ’70s could a band decide to put out four solo albums on the same day and somehow convince the world it made perfect sense. On September 18, 1978, KISS pulled off one of rock’s most over-the-top stunts: four albums, one from each member, all branded as official KISS releases, all with matching cover art and posters you could piece together. This song had to be at least somewhat inspired by Bo Diddley’s Bo Diddley which was in turn inspired by Hush Little Baby.

I’ve always liked this song from Ace Frehley’s KISS solo album. It peaked at #13 on the Billboard 100, #25 in Canada, and #24 in New Zealand in 1978. The song was written by Russ Ballard and was a UK chart hit for an English band named Hello. The track kicks in with that foot-stomp and hand-clap rhythm, more glam rock than hard rock, and right away it’s clear: this is not a KISS song. It’s got more in common with T. Rex than with Detroit Rock City.

Everything here is built around that simple, addictive beat, a four-on-the-floor thump with congas and claps riding shotgun. Over the top floats Frehley’s talk-sung vocal that is delivered with confidence. Ace was perfect for this song because he doesn’t have a huge vocal range. On Ace’s songs, he doesn’t sound like he is trying to make a hit…just a good song. I also like his guitar playing in general. It’s very Keith Richards like along with his tone.

New York Groove is Ace Frehley’s very own personal anthem. The track is as synonymous with the ex-Kiss member as his silver suit and his smokin’ Les Paul. The egos in KISS were huge; Gene and Paul provoked Ace, even offering help (assuming that Ace would not be able to). However, Ace surprised them both. The best-selling solo album of the 4, in addition to being preferred by most fans and critics.

Ace Frehley: “A lot of people think I wrote New York Groove. It’s not a myth that I’ve perpetuated, but that’s the way it is. I wish I would’ve wrote the song, though. I would’ve made a lot more cash out of it, ha-ha-hargh!”

Original Version by Hello

New York Groove

Many years since I was here,
On the street I was passin’ my time away
To the left and to the right,
Buildings towering to the sky
It’s outta sight in the dead of night

Here I am, and in this city, with a fistful of dollars
And baby, you’d better believe

I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
Back in the New York groove, in the New York groove

In the back of my Cadillac
A wicked lady, sittin’ by my side, sayin’ ‘Where are we?’
Stop at Third and Forty-three, exit to the night
It’s gonna be ecstacy, this place was meant for me

Feels so good tonight, who cares about tomorrow
So baby, you’d better believe

I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
Back in the New York groove, in the New York groove

I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove

Kinks – Celluloid Heroes

When I heard this song, I loved the movie star references, and that got my attention. He namechecks the legends: Greta Garbo, Rudolph Valentino, Bela Lugosi, and Bette Davis. But he doesn’t dwell on their fame; he dwells on what fame cost them. Some went mad, some died alone, some were used up by the studio system and spit out into forgotten gossip columns.

Ray Davies never really left England in spirit, but with Celluloid Heroes, he made one of his most haunting visits to America. Walking the Hollywood Walk of Fame, shoulder to shoulder with the ghosts who made generations laugh, cry, and dream on the big screen.

By 1972, The Kinks released Everybody’s in Show-Biz, it was their 6th straight concept album and they had just released Muswell Hillbillies the year before. This one was part cabaret, part social commentary, part rock and roll vaudeville.

He wrote the song when he visited Los Angeles. He stayed at a hotel near the Walk of Fame and was intrigued by how it represented success alongside failure. It is one of those Kinks songs that doesn’t get the same attention as Lola or Waterloo Sunset, but it should.

The song was released as the second single from Everybody’s in Show-Biz but failed to chart. However, the track received decent airplay on AOR radio stations in the US, and it remains a song that is often played when these stations mark the passing of a Hollywood star.

Everybody’s In Show-Biz peaked at #63 in Canada and #70 on the Billboard Album Charts. It didn’t chart in the UK. Ray was subtle in this song, and he sings like he means it.

Single Version

Album Version

Celluloid Heroes

Everybody’s a dreamer and everybody’s a star
And everybody’s in movies, it doesn’t matter who you are
There are starts in every city
In every house and on every street
And if you walk down Hollywood Boulevard
Their names are written in concrete

Don’t step on Greta Garbo as you walk down the Boulevard
She looks so weak and fragile that’s why she tried to be so hard
But they turned her into a princess
And they sat her on a throne
But she turned her back on stardom
Because she wanted to be alone

You can see all the stars as you walk down Hollywood Boulevard
Some that you recognize, some that you’ve hardly even heard of
People who worked and suffered and struggled for fame
Some who succeeded and some who suffered in vain

Rudolph Valentino looks very much alive
And he looks up ladies dresses as they sadly pass him by
Avoid stepping on Bela Lugosi
‘Cause he’s liable to turn and bite
But stand close by Bette Davis
Because hers was such a lonely life

If you covered him with garbage
George Sanders would still have style
And if you stamped on Mickey Rooney
He would still turn round and smile
But please don’t tread on dearest Marilyn
Cause she’s not very tough
She should have been made of iron or steel
But she was only made of flesh and blood

Everybody’s a dreamer and everybody’s a star
And everybody’s in show biz, it doesn’t matter who you are
And those who are successful
Be always on your guard
Success walks hand in hand with failure
Along Hollywood Boulevard

I wish my life was non-stop Hollywood movie show
A fantasy world of celluloid villains and heroes
Because celluloid heroes never feel any pain
And celluloid heroes never really die

You can see all the stars as you walk along…
You can see all the stars as you walk down Hollywood Boulevard
Some that you recognize, some that you’ve hardly even heard of
People who worked and suffered and struggled for fame
Some who succeeded and some who suffered in vain

La la la la….

Oh, celluloid heroes never feel any pain
Oh, celluloid heroes never really die
I wish my life was non-stop Hollywood movie show
A fantasy world of celluloid villains and heroes
Because celluloid heroes never feel any pain
And celluloid heroes never really die

Peter Gabriel – Solsbury Hill

I will be the first to admit that I don’t know much about Peter Gabriel. In 2020, Graham from Aphoristic Album Reviews had a B-side by Genesis called Inside and Out. He also had a B-side from them the year before that really impressed me. It was one of the first real exposures I’ve had to that era of Genesis, and it was quite different from what I expected. I liked what I heard from Peter Gabriel’s era at that time.

I was reading blogs last week when I read Nancy’s blog on this song. I listened to it and loved it, and I urge everyone to go see her post. My friend Dave has also posted some of Gabriel’s music.

Genesis had grown into a theatrical beast, complete with fox-head costumes and fifteen-minute suites. But Gabriel was feeling hemmed in, creatively and spiritually. He needed air and some risk. This was Peter Gabriel before Sledgehammer, before Shock the Monkey, before he was an international ambassador for world music.

He had left Genesis the year or so before, stepping away from the elaborate costumes, the long storylines, and the prog rock labyrinth he helped create. Many expected something equally grandiose for his solo debut. Instead, he delivered a track so personal, introspective, and melodic that it was firmly down to earth. This song was about his dealing with his departure from Genesis and anticipation of his new challenge as a solo artist. Solsbury Hill is a real place near Bath, England, where Gabriel reportedly walked to clear his head after leaving Genesis.

The song was released in 1977. The single did well for a debut. It peaked at #13 in the UK, #92 in Canada, and #68 on the Billboard Album Charts. The album was called Peter Gabriel, as were his next 3 albums. It peaked at #7 in the UK, #30 in Canada, #38 in New Zealand, and #38 on the Billboard Album Charts.

Solsbury Hill

Climbing up on Solsbury HillI could see the city lightWind was blowing, time stood stillEagle flew out of the night

He was something to observeCame in close, I heard a voiceStanding, stretching every nerveI had to listen, had no choice

I did not believe the informationJust had to trust imaginationMy heart going “Boom-boom-boom”“Son, ” he said“Grab your things, I’ve come to take you home”Hey, back home

To keep in silence I resignedMy friends would think I was a nutTurning water into wineOpen doors would soon be shut

So I went from day to dayThough my life was in a rut‘Til I thought of what I’d sayWhich connection I should cut

I was feeling part of the sceneryI walked right out of the machineryMy heart going “Boom-boom-boom”“Hey, ” he said“Grab your things, I’ve come to take you home”Hey, back home

When illusion spin her netI’m never where I wanna beAnd liberty, she pirouetteWhen I think that I am free

Watched by empty silhouettesWho close their eyes but still can seeNo one taught them etiquetteI will show another me

Today I don’t need a replacementI’ll tell them what the smile on my face meantMy heart going “Boom-boom-boom”“Hey, ” I said“You can keep my things, they’ve come to take me home”

…

Allman Brothers – Blue Sky

This has one of my favorite solos ever. It was written and sung by guitarist Dickey Betts, and it sounds like a warm spring day that never ends. The story goes that Betts wrote it about his Native American wife, Sandy. The real romance here is between the guitars. His and Duane’s twin leads don’t duel, they dance. And it’s beautiful. Just my opinion here, but Ramblin’ Man may be Bett’s biggest hit, but this was his masterpiece.

There’s a myth that Southern Rock had to be gruff and bombastic. But Blue Sky throws all that out the window. It’s melodic and pastoral. It’s as much Big Star as it is Muddy Waters. That’s the beauty; it blurs the lines. This could’ve easily been a power pop hit in another era if you just swapped the guitars for chiming Rickenbackers, but I’m glad they didn’t.

This song was on the great album Eat a Peach that arrived in the shadow of tragedy. Duane Allman had died in a motorcycle crash just months before it was finished, but somehow, Blue Sky sounds like pure serenity. The song really showed what we lost with Duane. He picked Dickie Betts to be in the band and those two formed a bond personally and musically that never was replicated. They pushed each other to new heights.

Betts wanted the lead singer, Gregg Allman, to sing it. Duane stepped in and told Dickey no, he should sing it because it was his song, so Betts did. I have heard a recording of Gregg singing this one in a rehearsal, but as great as Gregg’s voice was, it just didn’t fit this one as well. I think Duane saw this.

The album was released on February 12, 1972, and it peaked at #4 on the Billboard 100 and #12 in Canada. The original name was going to be Eat A Peach for Peace.

This is The Allman Brothers live with Betts AND Duane on Guitar in Stony Brook 1971.

Blue Sky

Walk along the river, sweet lullaby
They just keep on flowin’, they don’t worry ’bout where it’s goin’, no, no
Don’t fly, mister blue bird, I’m just walkin’ down the road
Early morning sunshine, tell me all I need to know

You’re my blue sky, you’re my sunny day
Lord, you know it makes me high
When you turn your love my way
Turn your love my way, yeah

Good old Sunday mornin’, bells are ringin’ everywhere
Goin’ to Carolina, it won’t be long and I’ll be there

You’re my blue sky, you’re my sunny day
Lord, you know it makes me high
When you turn your love my way
Turn your love my way, yeah, yeah

Pet Rocks

Sometimes pop culture takes a turn so bizarre, so ridiculous, that you can’t help but admire it. Why can’t I think of something like this? Gary Dahl did and became a millionaire.

The pet came in a box with holes…of course, so the Rock could breathe and have a nest. They were $3.95 each, and each box contained “One Genuine Pedigreed” Pet Rock…A 32-page manual was included on how to take care of your special pet. The timing was perfect. In a post-Watergate America, cynicism was in, and irony was king. People were ready to buy something utterly meaningless just for the hell of it.

You want to understand the ‘70s in a nutshell? Forget disco and mood rings, look at the Pet Rock. It was the perfect gag gift in a world suddenly obsessed with kitsch, sarcasm, and pop irony.

More than a million people bought Pet Rocks as Christmas gifts in 1975. Gary Dahl, of Los Gatos, California, had the idea while joking with friends about his easy-to-care-for pet, a rock.

This pet ate nothing and didn’t bark or chew the furniture. Pet Rocks were sold with a funny manual that included tips on how to handle an excited rock and how to teach it tricks. By 1976, Gary Dahl was a millionaire, and Pet Rocks were the nation’s favorite pet.

By 1977, the fad had already burned out. Sales dropped. The joke wore thin. The world moved on. But like most pop phenomena, the Pet Rock was never really about longevity. It was about the moment. And it absolutely nailed it. He later referred to the Pet Rock craze as “a good joke that got out of hand.”

Here is the first part of the manual. I will not list the 32 pages of care…at the bottom is a very short old news report on this novelty item. Kids today don’t know what they are missing…they have iPhones….we had Pet Rocks.

Item 1.
Your new rock is a very sensitive pet
and maybe slightly traumatized from
all the handling and shipping required
in bringing the two of you together.
While you may look in on your new
pet from time to time, it is essential
that you leave your rock in its box for
a few days. It is advised that you set
the box in an area of your home
that is to become your PET ROCK’S
“special place”. Some PET ROCK
owners have found that the ticking of
an alarm clock placed near the box
has a soothing effect; especially at
night.
It takes most PET ROCKS exactly
three days to acclimate themselves to
their new surroundings. After seventy-two
hours have passed you may remove
the rock from its box and begin
enjoying your new pet.

Yes, I do have a pet rock and the box somewhere in storage.

Warren Zevon – Werewolves of London

He’s the hairy-handed gent who ran amuck in Kent
Lately he’s been overheard in Mayfair
Better stay away from him
He’ll rip your lungs out, Jim
I’d like to meet his tailor

I’ve heard this song so many times, but it does not get old to me. Zevon was one of the darkest songwriters I’ve ever heard, but kept a sense of humor about it. His vocal delivery is more spoken than sung, dry as gin and twice as sharp. The way he tosses off lines like “I saw a werewolf drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic’s — and his hair was perfect” is pure poetry.

Warren Zevon was a very clever songwriter. He went where other songwriters don’t often go. This song was off his critically acclaimed album Excitable Boy released in 1978. The song peaked at #21 on the Billboard 100, #18 in Canada, and #87 in the UK. It’s simply a great album with tracks like this one, Excitable Boy, Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner, and one of my favorites, Lawyers, Guns, and Money.

Zevon was working with the Everly Brothers in their backup band. He had just hired Robert “Waddy” Wachtel on guitar. The song started as a joke. Phil Everly tossed out the title during a casual songwriting session, half-daring Zevon to write a song called “Werewolves of London.” Phil had just watched Werewolf of London and thought Warren could make it into a dance craze.

Zevon thought about it and took it up with his musicians, guitarist Waddy Wachtel and bassist Leroy Marinell. When Wachtel heard the idea, he mimicked a wailing wolf, “Aahoooh,” which became part of the howling chorus. What came out of that session was a Frankenstein’s monster stitched together from old horror flicks.

This track was produced by Jackson Browne. The songwriters were LeRoy Marinell, Waddy Wachtel, and Warren Zevon. John McVie and Mick Fleetwood played on this song.

Werewolves of London

I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain
He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook’s
Gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein

Aaoooooo!
Werewolves of London!
Aaoooooo! (Repeat)

If you hear him howling around your kitchen door
Better not let him in
Little old lady got mutilated late last night
Werewolves of London again

Asoooooo!
Werewolves of London!
Aaoooooo! (Repeat)

He’s the hairy-handed gent who ran amuck in Kent
Lately he’s been overheard in Mayfair
Better stay away from him
He’ll rip your lungs out, Jim
I’d like to meet his tailor

Aaoooooo!
Werewolves of London!
Aaoooooo! (Repeat)

Well, I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen
Doing the Werewolves of London
I saw Lon Chaney, Jr. walking with the Queen
Doing the Werewolves of London
I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic’s
And his hair was perfect

Aaoooooo!
Werewolves of London!
Aaoooooo! (Repeat)
Draw blood…

Chris Smither – Love You Like A Man

First, I want to thank M.Y. for suggesting Chris Smither to me. M.Y. is one of my best commenters, and thank you again! She told me about Smither a while back, and I’ve been listening to his music since. When she first told me, I thought he would be a typical singer-songwriter like James Taylor. No, he has some serious guitar skills, and that comes off immediately. His music has a nice edge to it. I’ve heard this one before because Bonnie Raitt covered it in 1972.

Chris Smither is a singer-songwriter and guitarist. He is best known for his music that blends folk and blues. Smither grew up in New Orleans, Louisiana, which influenced his musical style. He was inspired by blues artists like Mississippi John Hurt and Lightnin’ Hopkins, as well as folk musicians such as Bob Dylan. That is a great combination.

He made his way up north in the ‘60s, just as the Boston folk scene was humming. And while Dylan acolytes were everywhere, Smither had something different. There was a quiet place in his songs, built on John Hurt’s fingerpicking and Lightnin’ Hopkins’ style, but laced with the lyrics of the blues. This guy should have been noticed more over the years.

If you are looking for a combination of New Orleans soul, Delta blues, and folk club music, Smither’s your man. This song was on his debut album, I’m A Stranger Too! released in 1970. Chris has released 19 studio albums, including one in 2024 called All About Bones.

Love You Like A Man

All these men you’ve been seein’
They’ve got their balls up on a shelf
And you know they could never love you, baby
When they can’t even love themselves
You need someone who can
I could be— you know I could be your lover man
Come on, believe me when I tell you
I love you like a man

‘Cause I’ve never seen such losers
And I bet you never tried
To find a man that can take you home
Never takin’ you for a ride
If you need someone who can
I could be— I bet I could be your lover man
Come on, believe me when I tell you
I love you like a man

Yeah, you’re comin’ home sad
You’re laying down to cry
You need a man to hold you
Not some fool to ask you why
Yeah, you know you need someone who can
Come on, believe me when I tell you
I love you like a man
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Yeah, ’cause they all want you to rock ’em
Like their back ain’t got no bone
What you need is a man who can rock you like your backbone was his own
You need someone who can
I could— I think I could be your lover man
Come on, believe me when I tell you
I love you like a man

Yeah, ’cause all these men that you’ve been seein’
Got their balls up on their shelves
And you know they could never love you, baby
When they can’t even love themselves
You need someone who can
And I could— I bet I— I think— I know I could be your lover man
Believe me when I tell you
I love you like
I love you like
I love you like a man

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Lynyrd Skynyrd – Mississippi Kid

This is the first studio album, other than a greatest hits package, that I listened to by them. What makes Mississippi Kid so good is that it feels lived in. It’s loose without being sloppy, gritty without being too intense. This was unplugged before unplugged. This is no bombastic song from the band that had many of them. After the release of their first album, they opened up for The Who on their Quadrophenia tour. Pete Townshend, who rarely paid attention to opening bands, was backstage and stopped mid-sentence and told someone…They’re really quite good, aren’t they?

This song is a deep-fried sleeper on a record that didn’t exactly lack for well-known songs. Mississippi Kid is Lynyrd Skynyrd unplugged, a country-blues song tucked away on their 1973 debut album (Lynyrd Skynyrd (Pronounced ‘Lĕh-‘nérd ‘Skin-‘nérd)) like some Southern back porch blues the band just happened to catch on tape. It’s the kind of song that makes you picture a jug of moonshine on a wooden table and a dog asleep under the porch.

It took me a while to get used to them because it seemed that people thought every southerner should like them like a requirement. I don’t like those terms, so I stupidly stayed away from them for a long time because I hate following a crowd. They sound like late sixties and early seventies British rock. Free and Cream were their biggest influence around this time. It makes sense because they were probably more popular in the UK than in the United States til the mid-seventies.

The mandolin was courtesy of the producer and founder of Blood, Sweat, and Tears, Al Kooper. He also famously played the organ on Bob Dylan’s Like A Rolling Stone. He would go on to produce their first three albums and also signed them to MCA Records. He found them in a bar and offered to sign them after a few nights. Right after that, someone broke into their van and stole all of their equipment. Van Zant called Al Kooper and asked him if he could help them out. Kooper said yes, of course, and sent the band $5000, and Van Zant told him…“Al, you just bought yourself a band for five thousand dollars.”

They only released 5 albums in their career before the crash. Of those 5 albums, 3 were great and legendary, and 2 were really good.

At the time of his death, Ronnie Van Zant was trying to plan an album with Merle Haggard. I think they would have sounded great together. It’s a shame they never got to do it.

Mississippi Kid

I got my pistols in my pocket boysI’m, I’m Alabama boundI got my pistols in my pocket boysI’m, I’m Alabama boundWell, I’m not looking for no troubleBut nobody dogs me ’round

Now, well I’m going to fetch my woman, peopleTri-Cities, here I comeOh, well I’m going to fetch my woman, peopleTri-Cities here I come

‘Cause she was raised up on that cornbreadAnd I know that woman’ll give me someGive me some baby

Oh, when this kid hits Alabama, peopleDon’t you try and dog him ’roundNow when this kid hits Alabama, peopleDon’t you try and dog him ’round‘Cause if you people cause me troubleLord, I’ve got to put you in the ground

Well, I was born in Mississippi, babyI don’t take any stuff from youThough I was born in Mississippi, babeAnd I don’t take any stuff from youAnd if I hit you on your headBoy, it’s got to make it black and blue

Ah, well, I’m going to Alabama got my pistols out by my sideHmm, yes, I’ll ride to Alabama with my pistols out by my sideCome down in Alabama, you can run, but you sure can’t hide

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Peter Green – In The Skies

I like to post on the weekends because I get to expand my musical palette so to speak. I love finding new/old music that I missed in real time. Peter Green’s solo work is new to me. I will continue to go through his albums. I listened to this album this week, but not like I usually do because of time or the lack of. I listened and took the two that stood out. The instrumental Slabo Day and the title cut of the album In The Skies. His guitar tone is beautiful and clear on these songs.

This is not the Peter Green of Oh Well or The Green Manalishi here. No unhinged guitar howls or walls of feedback. In the Skies is mellow, reflective, and fluid. Peter released 6 solo albums from 1970 to 1983. In The Skies was released in 1979. After what he went through, it’s a miracle we have anything from him. When I listen to it, I get the feeling he wasn’t trying to make a hit; he just wanted to play and record again after 9 years.

Green had all but disappeared from the public eye after the early ’70s, battling mental health issues and withdrawing from rock and roll entirely. So when In the Skies was released in 79, his first studio album in nearly a decade, it was a re-introduction of him, if anything.

I liked the title cut because there’s an almost spiritual quality there, something you’d expect from someone who went through what he did. I did listen to his next album Little Dreamer. It’s a bit more focused to me and not as free flowing as this one, but I like this one as well. He was getting back into the game with this one and was loose.

The album peaked at #32 in the UK and #12 in New Zealand in 1979.

In The Skies

Oh, there’s a way to keep the dark from the lightAnd there’s a way to take the cold out of the nightAnd when I see its glowThe sun and moon are shadowedBy the everlasting day

When I reach up my handTo the loving son of manThe bread of life will keep my soul alive

There’s a place where rivers flow in the streetWhere fruit and healing leaves are seen on a treeWhere emerald walls shine clearAnd golden streets run far and nearBehind the gates where his angels names appear

When I reach up my handTo the loving son of manThe bread of life will keep my soul alive

And he will wipe away the tears from our eyesAs we watch this old world fade when it diesAnd a new one shall comeAnd it will be heavenAnd it’s waiting for us there in the skies

In the skiesIn the skiesIn the skiesIn the skies

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Hollies – He Ain’t Heavy (He’s My Brother)

What a soulful song this is coming out of the Hollies. After Graham Nash left the group, they started to change into more of a 70s rock band.

The Hollies may be best known for their chiming guitars, close harmonies, and pop feel on songs like Bus Stop or Carrie Anne, but in 1969, they took a hard turn straight into emotional overdrive with this song. This wasn’t your typical British Invasion earworm. This was a slow-burning ballad with a title that sounded like scripture. The star of this song is Alan Clarke’s lead vocal. A gut-wrenching vocal that makes Clarke sound like he lived the song.

It was released in 1969 and was written by Bobby Scott and Bob Russell. A young Elton John played piano on the song. It peaked at #7 on the Billboard 100, #11 in Canada, #3 in the UK, and #7 in New Zealand. It was used in a commercial in 1988 and in that year went to number 1 in the UK charts. I always thought the song had a spiritual sound to it.

Speaking of the songwriters, Bobby Scott was a jazz pianist, and Bob Russell was writing these lyrics while battling terminal cancer. The phrase “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother” came from a story involving a Scottish orphanage and a child being carried on another’s back. Back in 1918, a boy named Howard Loomis was abandoned by his mother at Father Flanagan’s Home for Boys, which had opened just a year earlier. Howard had polio and wore heavy leg braces. Walking was difficult for him, especially when he had to go up or down steps. Soon, several of the Home’s older boys carried Howard up and down the stairs. One day, Father Flanagan asked Reuben Granger, one of those older boys, if carrying Howard was hard. Reuben replied, “He ain’t heavy, Father… he’s my brother.”

Tony Hicks: “In the 1960s when we were short of songs I used to root around publishers in Denmark Street. One afternoon, I’d been there ages and wanted to get going but this bloke said: ‘Well there’s one more song. It’s probably not for you.’ He played me the demo by the writers [Bobby Scott and Bob Russell]. It sounded like a 45rpm record played at 33rpm, the singer was slurring, like he was drunk. But it had something about it. There were frowns when I took it to the band but we speeded it up and added an orchestra. The only things left recognizable were the lyrics. There’d been this old film called Boys Town about a children’s home in America, and the statue outside showed a child being carried aloft and the motto He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother. Bob Russell had been dying of cancer while writing. We never got, or asked for, royalties. Elton John – who was still called Reg – played piano on it and got paid 12 pounds. It was a worldwide hit twice.”

He Ain’t Heavy(He’s My Brother)

The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows where
But I’m strong
Strong enough to carry him
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he to bear
We’ll get there

For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

If I’m laden at all
I’m laden with sadness
That everyone’s heart
Isn’t filled with the gladness
Of love for one another

It’s a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we’re on the way to there
Why not share

And the load
Doesn’t weigh me down at all
He ain’t heavy he’s my brother

He’s my brother
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother, he ain’t heavy

Sweet – The Ballroom Blitz

In the early seventies, I noticed a single that my sister had. It was on Bell Records, a band called The Sweet, and the song was Little Willy. The more I heard their hits, the more I couldn’t believe it was the same band. This song is explosive, yes, but it’s also tight, controlled chaos.

It kicks off like a scene from a glam rock horror movie. “Are you ready, Steve?” Andy Scott answers, “Uh-huh,” and one by one, they check in like a gang about to knock over a ballroom. Then BOOM, you’re punched with that guitar riff, drums, and the Sweet launch into one of the most over-the-top rock singles ever recorded.

This song was inspired by a real onstage attack. The Sweet were playing at the Grand Hall in Kilmarnock, Scotland, when the crowd went into an almost riot and started hurling bottles at the band. Most acts might’ve run for cover or written a moody ballad. The Sweet? They wrote a glam rock anthem with more drama than a Saturday night punch-up at a neighborhood pub.

This band seemed to sound like a different band on many of their singles. They were rock, glam rock, pop, some disco, and bubblegum rock. This song has been covered by several different artists. I first heard the song by Krokus in the 1980s. The song peaked at #5 in the Billboard 100 and #2 in the UK in 1973. Their other well-known songs were Little Willy, Fox on the Run, and Love is Like Oxygen.

This was written by Nicky Chinn and Mike Chapman, who wrote many glam songs. They also wrote Sweet’s Blockbuster, Suzi Quatro’s Devil Gate Drive, and Tony Basil’s Mickey.

The Ballroom Blitz

Are you ready, Steve? Uh-ha!

Andy? Yeah!

Mick? Okay.

All right, fellows, let’s go!Oh, it’s been getting so hard

Livin’ with the things you do to me, ah-ha

My dreams are getting so strange

I’d like to tell you everything I see, mmOh, I see a man at the back as a matter of fact

His eyes are red as the sun

And a girl in the corner, let no one ignore her

‘Cause she thinks she’s the passionate one

Oh yeah, it was like lightning
Everybody was frightening
And the music was soothing
And they all started grooving
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

And the man at the back said: “Everyone attack”
And it turned into a ballroom blitz
And the girl in the corner said: “Boy, I wanna warn ya”
It’ll turn into a ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz

Oh, I’m reaching out for something
Touching nothing’s all I ever do
Oh, I softly call you over
When you appear, there’s nothing left of you, ah-ha

Now the man at the back is ready to crack
As he raises his hands to the sky
And the girl in the corner is everyone’s mourner
She could kill you with a wink of her eye

Oh yeah, it was electric
So frantically hectic
And the band started leaving
‘Cause they all stopped breathing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

And the man at the back said: “Everyone attack”
And it turned into a ballroom blitz
And the girl in the corner said: “Boy, I wanna warn ya”
It’ll turn into a ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz

Oh yeah, it was like lightning
Everybody was frightening
And the music was soothing
‘Cause they all started grooving
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz
It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz
It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz
Yeah, it’s a ballroom blitz

Mahavishnu Orchestra – Birds of Fire …album review

We are taking a different path with this band today. It’s not the music I usually post, but I never post something I don’t like. I had the flu this week, and I listened to this band with headphones while recovering. This band really moved me in a lot of ways. It’s totally different for me, maybe you will be impressed like I was. Just pure music, and it takes you down a long, winding river.

I tried picking out a song from this album and tried a few other songs from different albums, but it didn’t work. To write up this band, you have to listen to the complete album. First of all, I’m out of my pay grade here. When I first listened to these guys, I was overwhelmed. I guess you could call this progressive, but I don’t buy that with this band. That is too easy a tag. After I listened to this album, I went through a couple more, and it affected me quite a bit.

You don’t listen to Mahavishnu Orchestra, you pretty much surrender to it. The first time you hear songs like Meeting of the Spirits (from their debut album) or Birds of Fire, it doesn’t matter if you’re coming from artists like Zeppelin, Rush, Miles Davis, or Ravi Shankar. What hits you is the raw voltage of their music. This is fusion played with the intensity of a rock band, but the complexity of a classical symphony. I think that sums it up. I compare it to being led into many different hallways in a huge mansion and visiting a new room at every turn.

I’ve been telling other people about them. I’m not sure I can put this in words, but listening through headphones feels like I’m seeing the music. It’s like I’m seeing molecules for the first time, making up the whole. Listening to them, I hear things and figure out things I have never done with music before. Why does a beat fit here but not there? They have some of the most perfectly constructed music I’ve heard. I normally like music raw and imperfect, but I do make an exception with this band. The reason is that they keep an edge, and it doesn’t get boring.

Another thing I like about the songs is that they keep them the right length, and you don’t have any 30-minute songs. You can tell each song was part of something bigger. Each song is like another brick in this structure

A couple of weeks ago, I saw a clip of John McLaughlin live at a Jeff Beck Tribute. His playing was beyond great. I started to look at some of the bands he has been a part of. In the past few weeks, I’ve brushed up on my bass playing by dragging a bass out while listening to rockabilly. The Mahavishnu Orchestra is way above my level but yet I’ve picked up a few things.

After playing with Miles Davis on fusion albums like Bitches Brew and In a Silent Way, John McLaughlin formed the Mahavishnu Orchestra in 1971. The name “Mahavishnu” was given to McLaughlin by his spiritual guru, Sri Chinmoy, reflecting the band’s philosophical, spiritual, and musical ambitions. Their albums were always evolving; they never just stayed put.

This album seeped into the mainstream. It peaked at #5 in Canada, #15 on the Billboard Album Charts, and #20 in the UK in 1973. Their membership was fluid through the years. They were together from 1971 – 1976 and from 1984-1987. John McLaughlin was the one constant member. On this album, it was McLaughlin on guitar, Rick Laird on bass, Billy Cobham on drums, Jan Hammer on keyboards, and Jerry Goodman on violin.

In closing, yeah, this is different from what I usually post and what you listen to and read about here. Some unknown critic at the time described this album as …Miles Davis jamming with Led Zeppelin on a Himalayan cliffside. So put that way…it fits.

If you want the complete album on YouTube.

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