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| They would have been doing the Frug to this. |
To put it another way, imagine, in the year of "Space Oddity", "Time of the Season", and "Pinball Wizard", one of the Top 20 songs was "O'Brien is Tryin' to Learn to Talk Hawaiian", released in 1917.
Yet today, Norman Greenbaum's "Spirit in the Sky", released in 1969, sits comfortably week alongside tunes by folks named Lil Nas X, Anderson Paak & Silk Sonic, and Masked Wolf. As the kids text, SMDH.
That's just the top of the charts. The Top 100 features even more singles ranging from the early 1970s to the early 2000s. Is today's music so bad that the kids are tuning out? Or is the final roar of the dinosaurs before they're killed off?
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| The same year Fleetwood Mac dominated radio, Elvis Costello & the Attractions wanted to destroy it. |
Frankly, I have no dog in this fight -- it's likely none of the contemporary music I listen to is in the same area code as the Top 20, 40, 100, or 243.
But what bugs me is that most of the oldies there now are what I hated then. The post-Peter Green version of Fleetwood Mac (five songs!), Lynyrd Skynyrd (the redneck Bob Seger), Bob Seger (the Northern Lynyrd Skynyrd), Bon Jovi (don't get me started)... All they're missing are the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt, Joni Mitchell and Crosby, Stills & Nash to complete my list of "Music To Avoid at All Costs".
Even the two oldies I like on the current iTunes Top 100 -- Billy Idol's "Rebel Yell" and Pet Shop Boys' "Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money)" -- are likely misinterpreted respectively by Confederate-loving Trump voters and wannabe Tik Tok influencers. That last word is so nauseating that my spellcheck doesn't even acknowledge it as real, which further boosts my theory.
As usual, it's up to me to straighten things out. Many of the songs on the list are from the 1970s, which, by and large was a terrible decade for Top 40 radio. So instead of the usual suspects that are forever making their presence known, often on commercials, let me suggest ten songs from that decade which didn't qualify as hits in America. Chrysler will never license them to sell their SUVs, which, of course, makes them all the better. Click on each, and weep for what we've lost.
"Baby's On Fire" by Brian Eno (1973). One of the founding members of Roxy Music, Eno went his own way following a power struggle with lead singer Bryan Ferry. Eno's first solo album, Here Come the Warm Jets, was filled with terrific off-kilter music, none more famous than "Baby's On Fire". As with the best records, it still sounds far ahead of its time. Listen to it and picture any record company executive signing Eno to a long-term deal today.
"This Town Ain't Big Enough for Both of Us" by Sparks (1974). Fronted by brothers Ron and Russell Mael, Sparks had to leave their native city of Los Angeles for London to achieve success -- unfortunately, only in Europe. "This Town...", the opening cut of their third album, zoomed to number one in England, and, almost 50 years on, continues to be their "Hey Jude": the number they have to perform at every concert. The most unique chart-topper in history. And Ron's moustache is an homage to Chaplin, not Hitler, OK?
"Out of Time" by the Rolling Stones (1975). Kind of a cheat -- Mick Jagger's vocal was a recorded as a guide for UK singer Chris Farlowe almost a decade earlier, while the backing the track is from the latter's single. When released by the Stones' former label in 1975, it barely cracked the UK Top 50. Unlike the official version, this "Out of Time" is a Phil Spectorish production that sounds nothing like the Rolling Stones -- which makes it so good.
"Grass" by the Pretty Things (1970). In case you haven't heard of the Pretty Things, David Gilmour referred to them as the band that the Rolling Stones wanted to be. So yeah, their name is supposed to be ironic. My favorite Pretty Things periods were during their psychedelic years and their final few albums in the mid-2000s. This particular cut, "Grass", sounds like a cross between the Beatles and Pink Floyd. And I mean the good, post-Roger Waters Pink Floyd.
"Salty Dog" by Procol Harum (1969). Yeah, yeah, it's a '60s cut, but close enough to 1970. Besides, I never heard it until the mid-'70s on late-night FM radio. It's a shame that the only thing people know Procol Harum for is "Whiter Shade of Pale", because cuts like "Salty Dog" are at least as good, if not better. A few years ago, my wife and I saw Procol Harum singer/keyboardist Gary Brooker (supported by the Paul Winter Consort) perform this during a concert at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. You should've been there. Really.
"The Jet Song (When the Weekend's Over") by the Groop (1969). Again, close enough to the '70s to make it on the list. I would call the Groop a one-hit wonder, but I'm not sure "The Jet Song" cracked the charts. By the way, despite the song's name, it has nothing to do with West Side Story. It is, instead, a four-minute pop delight (with fabulous vocal and instrumental arrangements) that my friend Leo referred to as a cross between "Up, Up and Away" and "A Day in the Life", which should be enough to get anybody interested in hearing it. One of those songs that make me feel tingly all over, and wish I had written, dammit.
"Bake Me a Woman" by Keith Barbour (1970). No, this isn't some kind of a horror movie theme, but the most bizarre love song ever recorded. There's no point in me explaining it. You have to hear it to "appreciate" it. I think the kids would want to cancel it today, which makes it all the more reason to revive it.
"Sacred Songs" by Daryl Hall (1977). Daryl Hall recorded the album Sacred Songs while on a brief hiatus from his usual partner John Oates. With Robert Fripp producing and on guitar, Hall presented the album to his then-label RCA, which promptly shelved it for three years for being "uncommercial" (meaning not "Rich Girl"). Naturally, it was a great album. The title track's punchy, live-in-the-studio production is the opposite of much of today's Top 40, which tends to be overproduced and Autotuned to hide the general lack of talent.
"Lord Baltimore" by Mark Richardson (1970). A kind of depressing song sung from the point of view of a lord of the manor who's getting the heave-ho from his father, and wonders just how he's going to make it in the real world. That's real roll-up-the-rug material, right? I have no idea who Mark Richardson was, where he was from or what else he recorded, but his voice is well-suited to the despondent lyrics. Consider it the anti-rich kid rap number.
"Mill Valley" by Miss Abrams and the Strawberry Point Fourth Grade Music Class (1970). Well, that artist's name is fairly self-explanatory. Rita Abrams was a real grade school music teacher when she wrote this paean to the California town where she worked. In a world increasingly going off-course, "Mill Valley" might actually strike a chord with many people today, even as (or because) the recorder solo at the beginning fairly shouts early 1970s. And the video was directed by Francis Ford Coppola a year before he started work on The Godfather! Leave the homework, take the lunchbox.
Fun fact: according to Rita Abrams (now 77 years of age), many of the fourth-graders on "Mill Valley" are now grandparents. Feel free to cry and take a nap.
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