"Life and Times," Jim Croce (1973)

The Jim Croce phenomenon that swept the nation in the first half of 1974 was unlike anything I can remember in the years I’ve been listening to music.

For those who weren’t around at the time, Croce was an immensely likable and completely unpretentious singer-songwriter in the early 1970s.  He basically wrote two kinds of songs – sensitive love songs like “Time in a Bottle,” “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song,” “Dreamin’ Again” and “Photographs and Memories,” and what I’ll call “slice of life on the road” songs like “You Don’t Mess Around With Jim,” “Roller Derby Queen,” “Speedball Tucker” and “Workin’ at the Car Wash Blues.”  His “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown,” which falls into the latter category, hit #1 on the charts in the summer of 1973, and it appeared that Croce would have a long, successful career ahead of him.

But it was not to be.  Croce, his longtime musical collaborator Maury Meuheleisen, and five others were killed in a small plane crash in September 1973, the day before his single “I Got a Name” was released.

And that’s when things got a little crazy.  “Time in a Bottle,” a song from his first album, was released as a single near the end of the year, and went straight to #1 – as did the album from which it came.  His other two albums, “Life and Times” and “I Got a Name,” both rocketed into the Top 5, and all three stayed there for about 4 straight months.  During that time, Croce had a string of Top 10 singles that finally ended when “Workin’ at the Car Wash Blues” could only make it to #17.  And then, it was over.

Listening to his albums today, it’s clear that Croce had limits as an artist, but at the same time he was a breath of fresh air compared to much of what could be heard on AM radio.  There’s no reason to think that he couldn’t have continued in the same vein for a long time.  And every now and then, with songs like “Operator,” “Salon and Saloon” and even “Leroy Brown,” he came up with songs that rose well above the rest.

The Best of Spinners (1978)

The collaboration between producer Thom Bell and Spinners in the 1970s was the very definition of “lightning in a bottle.”  Their string of massive hit singles didn’t last forever (in fact, only about 3 years), but man was it fun while it lasted.  There are ten songs on this album – “I’ll Be Around,” “How Could I Let You Get Away,” “One of a Kind (Love Affair),” “Mighty Love,” “Ghetto Child,” “Then Came You” (with Dionne Warwick), “Sadie,” “Could It Be I’m Falling in Love,” “Games People Play,” and “The Rubberband Man” – and every single one is a great, great song.  I can still remember how exciting it was in the Fall of 1972 to hear the first strains of “I’ll Be Around” coming out of the radio, and that was just the tip of the iceberg.

I’m still not sure that Bell gets the due he deserves today.  He was the Burt Bacharach of his day, not just a brilliant producer and arranger but also a terrific songwriter.  And give credit to the members of Spinners as well – all great vocalists, with three singers (Henry Fambrough, Phillipe Wynne, Bobby Smith) capable of handling the lead.  Together with Bell, they made magic together.

"Trust," Elvis Costello (1981)

From time to time, I wonder whether Elvis Costello’s career would have survived his “drunken racist incident” in this modern era of social media, TMZ, Hollywood Access et al.  The intervening years have clearly shown that Costello is not a racist (nor for that matter, did the years before), but on the other hand he did say some genuinely horrific things in his drunken state on that night in 1979.  And if you have no idea what I’m talking about, just Google “Elvis Costello Repents” and read his 1982 Rolling Stone interview with Greil Marcus.  Marcus doesn’t let him off easy, and notwithstanding the interview’s title, I’ll leave it to each individual reader to decide whether Costello really does explain himself to any degree of satisfaction.

By the time “Trust” was released in 1981, the story was off the front pages, and the days of “Angry Young Elvis” – when he might show up for a concert, play 20 minutes and then storm off the stage – were over.  And while “Trust” wasn’t quite as angry an album as “This Year’s Model” (what could be?), it had its share of venom.  In retrospect this feels like a transitional album, taking the first steps from that earlier, angrier era to the second stage of his career, where at times it seemed as if he wanted to become the Cole Porter of his time.  For my part, I’ve always loved the album – and so did just about all of my friends in Deutsch Hall (UC Berkeley) that Spring.  There were days when you could stop on four different floors in our dorm, and “Trust” is what you’d hear playing.  My only regret is that, still a little spooked by the stories of 20 minute shows and doing my best to protect my pocketbook, I passed up on the opportunity to see what I’m told was a great show that April in San Francisco.

Christgau: A. “…here he makes the music make the words as he hasn't since This Year's Model. This is rock and roll as eloquent, hard-hitting pop, and Elvis has turned into such a soul man that I no longer wish he'd change his name to George and go country.”

"Aja," Steely Dan (1977)

“Aja” is the album where Steely Dan gave up all pretense of being a real band. Donald Fagen and Walter Becker had been heading in that direction since “Pretzel Logic” three years before, steadily moving towards the sound that Robert Christgau referred to as “well-crafted West Coast Studio Jazz.”

Consider for a moment the fact that “Aja” came out the same year as the debut albums from The Clash, Talking Heads, Blondie, Elvis Costello, not to mention “Rocket to Russia” by the Ramones and the Sex Pistols’ “God Save the Queen. The difference in sound on “Aja” from those albums is so stark that it might as well have come from a different planet.

And as much as I love all of those albums, I also love “Aja.” For me, it’s the one time that Fagen and Becker perfected their “West Coast approach.” “The Royal Scam” sounded a little thin to these ears, and “Gaucho” was expertly crafted but ice cold in the heart department. But the seven songs on “Aja” wear their heart on their sleeve to such a degree that…well, let’s just say that sometimes I wonder whether that was really the intent, and if the album was an accidental masterpiece.

But never mind all that. The entirety of the first side is spectacular, even with just three songs – “Black Cow,” the title track, and the immortal “Deacon Blues” (with the line about the Alabama Crimson Tide more relevant than ever in the 21st Century). The second side isn’t quite as good, but has the hits (“Peg” and “Josie”) and manages while barely breaking a sweat to maintain the sound and approach begun on Side One.

1977 is one of my favorite years in music history because it was all over the place. And “Aja” was a big part of that.

Christgau: B+. “I hated this record for quite a while before I realized that, unlike The Royal Scam, it was stretching me some; I still find the solo licks of Larry Carlton, Victor Feldman, et al. too f*cking tasty, but at least in this context they mean something. I'm also grateful to find Fagen and Becker's collegiate cynicism in decline; not only is "Deacon Blues" one of their strongest songs ever, it's also one of their warmest.”

R.I.P. Paul Kantner

"Red Octopus," Fall 1975.

Album of the Day - "Hotter Than July," Stevie Wonder

“Hotter than July” always makes me think about the difference between saying that an album is an artist’s “best” as opposed to “my favorite.”

My head says that Stevie Wonder’s “best” album is either “Songs in the Key of Life,” or “Innervisions,” or “Talking Book,” or “Music of My Mind.”  But my heart is clear – my favorite Stevie Wonder album is 1980’s “Hotter than July.”

From start to finish, the album is a winner – great fast songs, great mid-tempo tunes, and a classic ballad.  It’s got “Master Blaster,” it’s got “Happy Birthday,” it’s got “Lately,” and a host of other instant classics.  And it features Stevie playing with a full band, one that keeps topping itself with each song.

Trust me, you can’t go wrong with this one.

Christgau: A-.  “Between his free-floating melodicism and his rolling overdrive, his hope and his cynicism, he seems more and more like the best thing the '60s ever happened to. Sure outlasted Jerry Garcia, now didn't he?”