Nature's Way, Spirit (1970)

One month before Richard Nixon created the Environmental Protection Agency, teens were hearing from the world-conscious L.A. band Spirit about life's fragility and the importance of caring for the environment.

A beautiful song sung by the late Randy California, who formed the group as a teenager with his stepfather Ed Cassidy, Nature's Way was a very harmonic convergence of jazz, folk and rock. As one of the founders of my high school's first Earth Day earlier that year, the song resonated, to put it mildly.

A chance meeting with Jimi Hendrix in New York City led the precocious guitarist California, at the tender age of 15, to a regular gig for 3 months with Hendrix' precursor band, Jimmy James and the Blue Flames. (This interview with Randy has some nifty background on those days in Hendrix' orbit.) Randy just missed becoming part of the Jimi Hendrix Experience when his parents nixed the idea of him accompanying Jimi on tour to England in 1966.

The much-older Cassidy had played drums with the legendary Art Pepper and Thelonius Monk. These and other influences pervaded Spirit's eclectic and genre-defying repertoire.

Come See About Me, Jr. Walker and the All Stars (1967)

Again with the covers. But walk on by, Supremes version. Impaled on Junior Walker's squealing tenor saxophone, Holland-Dozier-Holland had a whole new song on its hands.

Says Clarence Clemons in a Rolling Stone interview, "Junior Walker and King Curtis were the two biggest influences on me. All those jazz cats were just too abstract for me; Junior was more animated, and he got straight to the point. He knew it wasn't how many notes you play but what each note says - quality, not quantity."

That principle is very much in evidence in Come See About Me. The individual notes of the wailing intro give me the shivers. Then I hop up and dance my brains out through the wailing outro. The 'adapted' lyrics exhorted us to "come see about Junior," and who could help themselves? No one could play sax like Junior, or had more fun doing it. (Unfortunately, this isn't on youtube, so here's the legendary Shotgun, which I was originally going to write about until I remembered how much I loved Come See ... )

Perhaps the only Motown instrumentalist who received his props while he was actually working there, Junior became a Motown artist after the label he originally worked for was acquired by Berry Gordy. Still, I'm not certain it was a natural home for him and the All Stars; they were a bit too rough-and-ready, too hard soul, for Hitsville USA. A really interesting factoid that just surfaced in my research: Steve Winwood based the original Traffic on the All-Stars!

Sometime in mid-to-late 80s, I had the privilege of seeing Junior at The Dell, a very intimate venue in Columbus, Ohio. At one point, he was so caught up in his groove that he walked off the stage and out the front door, playing all the while, and continued to blow on the sidewalk outside the club, serenading passers-by for some minutes before returning to the stage. He never skipped a beat.

I Should Have Known Better, I'll Be Back, The Beatles (1964)

A youtube commenter writes, "I wonder what it would be like living when the Beatles were around. I'd love to have lived back then, even if it would make me 60 years old today ... "

Ouch! I am both amused and not amused by that comment. But the harsh reality is that those of us who were fortunate enough to be participants in Beatlemania are now middle-aged. All things considered, I wouldn't have it any other way.

For today's selection, I've decided to pair another set of Beatles songs - there are so many and not enough time in life to discuss them all. A Hard Day's Night was the first of their albums comprised entirely of Lennon-McCartney compositions. I go through stages where I listen obsessively to the old stuff, and it became apparent to me with this one (the British release, not the U.S. version, which has a slightly different track list) that these two songs are the ones to which I've had the most consistent reaction and attachment for, God forbid, 44 years.

From a yin-yang perspective, I Should Have Known Better and I'll Be Back are the perfect pair - Idealism vs. Realism on parade. In the first, our subject is gobsmacked with euphoria, awash in the happiness of infatuation. In the second, the blush is well off the rose, it's all gone terribly wrong and our subject is overcome with such despond that he's resorted to threatening his love object.

John's opening harmonica strains in I Should Have Known Better set the stage for what I consider to be the quintessential early Beatles song - one just brimming with exuberance lyrically, melodically, rhythmically. It's the gleeful kind of song that I associate with the endorphin rush - probably because I get one every time I hear and sing along with it. At the same time, it can make me sad if I really think about it, because John's natural edginess soon played itself out in songs that, for most of the rest of his life, were largely darker and more cynical, and for me, not as beloved.

I'll Be Back is startling in its wretchedness. Its alternating major and minor keys make it distinctively different from the rest of the album. Immediately, anyone who knows what it's like to be unable to let go of a love gone bad is transported to that miserable place. When they blurt You / Could find better things to do / Than to break my heart again, it's almost like being punched in the stomach. I've felt like that more times than I can count. Well, I can count that high, but I don't want to.

You're My Woman, Van Morrison (1971)

I became a rabid Van Morrison fan when he was singing blues-rock with Them in the early 60s with hits like Gloria and Here Comes the Night (especially the latter).

As a solo artist, Morrison, a rock troubadour if there ever was one, is a mesmerizing performer. He commits to his music to such a profound degree you cannot help but be swept away by it. I love two comments over at youtube about him: "Van could sing 'take me out to the ballgame' and bring me to tears," was one; the other, "It's more like a soul with a voice than a voice with soul."

Of all the songs on his 1971 recording Tupelo Honey, You're My Woman is the pinnacle. Rolling Stone called it "one of the genuine masterpieces of Van's recording career." At 6:40, the song builds and builds to such emotional intensity that I sometimes can't stand it but never want it to end. It is a love song of monumental proportions, one of the best I've ever heard.

The accompanying horn, piano and rhythm section arrangements on this are also exquisite. This song isn't anywhere to be seen on youtube, but if you want to witness the Irish dynamo in his element, check out this gem as a substitute. Something else to look for: Martin Scorcese's series on the blues, specifically the Red, White & Blues episode that Mike Figgis directed. Here you'll see an astonishing session with Van, Tom Jones and Lulu, accompanied by Jeff Beck. For anyone who loves the blues, I can't overstate what a treasure it is.

Hang On Sloopy, The McCoys (1965)

Everyone's all in a lather today about football, and I understand that Eli's Coming has enjoyed quite a workout thanks to the New York Giants, but the only football I know about is Ohio State football, so I'm going to give a shout-out to one of the goofiest songs to go to the top of the charts during the 60s, Hang on Sloopy.

One of those songs that you jive to whether you really want to or not, and I know I did, it had such a feel-good vibe to it that I guess it was only a matter of time before The Ohio State University, my alma mater, decided to make it the unofficial fight song of Buckeyes football. I still laugh when I hear it, the more so because the State of Ohio went one step further in 1985 and made it the official state rock song, of all things, after Columbus Citizen-Journal columnist Joe Dirck wrote a column about a proposal the State of Washington was considering to make Louie, Louie its state rock song.

The actual legislative resolution, which can be read in its entirety here, includes this remarkable language, to wit:

"WHEREAS, Rock music has become an integral part of American culture, having attained a degree of acceptance no one would have thought possible twenty years ago; and

WHEREAS, Adoption of "Hang On Sloopy" as the official rock song of Ohio is in no way intended to supplant "Beautiful Ohio" as the official state song, but would serve as a companion piece to that old chestnut; and

WHEREAS, If fans of jazz, country-and-western, classical, Hawaiian and polka music think those styles also should be recognized by the state, then by golly, they can push their own resolution just like we're doing; and

WHEREAS, "Hang On Sloopy" is of particular relevance to members of the Baby Boom Generation, who were once dismissed as a bunch of long-haired, crazy kids, but who now are old enough and vote in sufficient numbers to be taken quite seriously; and

WHEREAS, Adoption of this resolution will not take too long, cost the state anything, or affect the quality of life in this state to any appreciable degree, and if we in the legislature just go ahead and pass the darn thing, we can get on with more important stuff; and

WHEREAS, Sloopy lives in a very bad part of town, and everybody, yeah, tries to put my Sloopy down; and

WHEREAS, Sloopy, I don't care what your daddy do, 'cause you know, Sloopy girl, I'm in love with you; therefore be it Resolved, That we, the members of the 116th General Assembly of Ohio, in adopting this Resolution, name "Hang On Sloopy" as the official rock song of the State of Ohio; and be it further Resolved, That the Legislative Clerk of the House of Representatives transmit duly authenticated copies of this Resolution to the news media of Ohio."

Regardless of its other merits or lack thereof, Hang On Sloopy's ability to rev up a stadium crowd is undeniable. With lead vocals and guitar by 16-year-old Ricky Zehringer, later to become known as Rick Derringer, its catchy rhythm and ridiculous lyrics perhaps exemplify as well as anything that last gasp of innocence before things got too serious in our world. It wouldn't last long - the week that Sloopy was #1, right behind it on the charts was Barry McGuire's Eve of Destruction, a strident cautionary protest against racism, Vietnam and the nuclear arms race.

It Ain't Me Babe, The Turtles (1965)

I think I've established that I am not a cover version snob, and here's another example of why I'm not. As a genre, folk-rock wasn't one of my early favorites - that developed later - but I believe the Turtles' version of It Ain't Me Babe (as well as the Byrds' cover of Mr. Tambourine Man a few months earlier) made me curious about Bob Dylan sooner than I would have been otherwise.

The longer I do this, the more I realize how much I appreciate the "perfect single," and the fact that the constraints of AM radio in the 60s weren't necessarily a bad thing. It's not easy to create something memorable in under 3 minutes, and I'd rather be left wanting more than to be beaten over the head with a song that goes on too long.

As is the case with every Dylan song, the lyrics are what gave me pause from the start. Everyone's been in the position of having others - either romantically or otherwise - wanting from you that which you cannot give, and I don't think that frustration and defiance has ever been better expressed. (It's been said that Dylan's motivation, in fact, was entirely based on his desire to not be held up as the 'voice of a generation', which he was being saddled with at the time, to his great dismay.)

What the Turtles did was take the song, which had been recorded by Dylan the previous year, and broadcast it out to a larger universe of people than would have been the case otherwise. Howard Kaylan and Mark Volman had been a cappella singers in their L.A. high school choir, and their lovely voices brought a certain accessibility to the hard-bitten sentiments of the song without sacrificing the gritty impact of it. According to one account, Kaylan was trying to mimic the style of the Zombies' She's Not There, which I didn't know until now, but since I pronounced that one of my perfect songs in an earlier post, it all makes sense!

The Losing End (When You're On), Neil Young & Crazy Horse (1969)

Most people associate Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (one of the best titles ever) with the title song and with Cinnamon Girl, Down By the River and Cowgirl in the Sand. In terms of sheer tonnage, that's understandable. And I will go on record as saying I love the whole album - if I had to pick just a handful of LPs that automatically remind me of that time of my life when I was transitioning from wide-eyed high schooler to college malcontent, this would unquestionably be one of them.

In Young's maiden collaboration with Crazy Horse - members of a band known as the Rockets whom he met while making his first LP - he and Danny Whitten, Billy Talbot and Ralph Molina created a musical gem of blazing musicality that still gives me thrills and chills.

But from the standpoint of a song that gets in there and gets the job done in about 4 minutes, it doesn't get much better than The Losing End. Today, I love this song about how pathetic unrequited love can make you feel as much, if not more, than I did then. It packs such a punch! "It's so hard for me now / But I'll make it somehow / Though I know I'll never be the same / Won't you ever change your ways? / It's so hard to make love pay / When you're on the losing end / And I feel that way again ... " The combination of mournful country-style lyrics and blistering guitar licks - and let's face it, Young's singular vocals - can't be improved upon.

To my mind, the symbiotic relationship between Young and Crazy Horse has produced some of his greatest work. He'd been sitting in with them from time to time after leaving Buffalo Springfield, and once they got together, they recorded the whole album in two weeks. It does have the feel of a jam session.

Although Danny Whitten died in 1972 of a heroin overdose (the heartbreaking Needle and the Damage Done was, in part, inspired by him), decades later Talbot and Molina were still in the picture, touring with him as recently as 2001; Ralph Molina plays drums on last year's Chrome Dreams II and will tour with him in 2008. When the long-awaited Archives project comes out - only on DVD and Blu-ray - I fervently hope we'll see some footage of these guys giving it their all.