Posts Tagged ‘Steve Miller’

CHART ATTACK!: 11/20/76

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So before we get started with today’s chart, I need to call your attention to those purty lil’ Amazon graphics below. They were created by the awesome Brian Ibbott, the man behind my favorite podcast (after the Popdose podcast, of course), Coverville. I figured Brian had taken them from the Amazon website, and since I couldn’t find them over at Amazon, I just took ‘em straight from Brian. I didn’t mean to be a thief, but turns out I am. So all credit for that nifty graphic that nobody clicks on goes to Brian — thanks, Brian! And if you’re not listening to Coverville, you’re missing out on one of the best, most compelling podcasts on the web. Check it out!

Okay, so now that I’ve stopped Brian’s team of blood-thirsty lawyers in their tracks (kidding!), we can take a look at this week’s chart. And I don’t mean to cast a cloud over this Top 10, but I’m not thrilled with most of these songs. Although three of them did hit #1 (one of them is actually the #1 hit of 1977), five of them didn’t make the Top 100 of either 1976 or 1977 at all. And as you’ll see, the songs that actually did hit #1 aren’t that great either. Things were better earlier in 1976 and later in 1977, but this specific week is, in my opinion, a low point. Do you agree? Let me know — and let’s attack November 20, 1976!

10. Do You Feel Like We Do — Peter Frampton null
9. Beth — Kiss null
8. Just to Be Close to You — Commodores null
7. Rock’n Me — Steve Miller null
6. The Rubberband Man — Spinners null
5. Disco Duck (Part 1) — Rick Dees null
4. Muskrat Love — Captain & Tennille null
3. Love So Right — Bee Gees null
2. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald — Gordon Lightfoot null
1. Tonight’s the Night (Gonna Be Alright) — Rod Stewart null

10. Do You Feel Like We Do — Peter Frampton

nullOne day, if I’m lucky enough to have kids as geeky as I am (seems kind of inevitable), I’ll sit them down and tell them about the improbability of this song’s success. Sure, I’ll have to explain terms like “double album,” “record label” and “radio,” but I think it’ll be worth it. I’ll explain to them how Peter Frampton managed to remain on a major record label, A&M, despite the fact that his first three albums (as well as his first eight singles) didn’t even crack the Hot 100 (”what’s the Hot 100, daddy?”) and his fourth album peaked at #32. And that despite these failures, A&M decided that his next release should be a live album — and when he turned in the live album, the head of the record label (Jerry Moss) complained that it was too short (!) and should be a double album (!!). And so Frampton — who had recorded most of the album at the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco, went to record more tracks live at SUNY Plattsburgh, better known as the least sexy of all the NY State-owned colleges. (I know. My dad went there.) “Do You Feel Like We Do” was one of the tracks recorded on the college campus. Unedited, it clocks in at 14:15. And children, guess what? “Radio stations,” as they were known back then, actually played the full, unedited version of the song! “Disc jockeys,” who were the people who actually had some control over what songs were played on the radio, used the song as an excuse to go to the bathroom or do other things that I’ll tell you about when you’re older. A&M understood that some stations might not want to play a 14-minute song, though, so they reasonably edited the song…to 7:19. 7:19 was considered reasonable, children!

At this point, my kids will probably be asleep from boredom, and that’ll be a shame, because I haven’t even explained to them why the unedited version of this song became so successful. Two words: TALKBOX SOLO. And here’s what I want to know, people: why do I have to wait SEVEN MINUTES AND 25 SECONDS for the talkbox solo? There should have been one in the beginning, in the middle, and then another one at the end. No, wait: the end one should be a false ending, and then there’d be another one after that one. There. That’s your perfect song. And I know the audience would have agreed, because you can hear how loud they cheer when he starts using the damn thing. You can’t deny the power of the talkbox. The talkbox is so powerful that the audience forgets the fact that anybody using one looks like a total douche.

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“durrrrrrrrrrr!”

Frampton does a talkbox solo for four full minutes, making “Do You Feel Like We Do” not only our CHART ATTACK! Song of the Week, but perhaps The Greatest Song of All Time, Excluding “What a Fool Believes.”

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CHART ATTACK!: 8/28/82

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Howdy, everybody! Hope you’re all enjoying the last of your summer days, while I sit indoors and listen to ten artists who are likely never be found on the Top 10 — hell, probably the Top 40 — ever again. Let’s take a look back at the week ending August 28, 1982!

10. Take It Away — Paul McCartney Amazon iTunes
9. Wasted On the Way — Crosby, Stills & Nash Amazon iTunes
8. Vacation — Go-Go’s Amazon iTunes
7. Keep the Fire Burnin’ — REO Speedwagon Amazon iTunes
6. Even the Nights Are Better — Air Supply Amazon iTunes
5. Hard to Say I’m Sorry — Chicago Amazon iTunes
4. Hold Me — Fleetwood Mac Amazon iTunes
3. Abracadabra — Steve Miller Band Amazon iTunes
2. Hurts So Good — John Cougar Amazon iTunes
1. Eye of the Tiger — Survivor Amazon iTunes

10. Take It Away — Paul McCartney

I consider myself relatively well-versed in Paul McCartney’s post-Beatles career (though I do not know a single song from Press to Play), and yet I think I need someone who knows his stuff a little better to explain what the difference is between this song — a Macca solo song from Tug of War — and a Wings song. Production-wise, this doesn’t sound much different from “Listen to What the Man Said.” But what do I know. “Take It Away” features Ringo on drums, who also appears in the video with Tug of War producer George Martin on piano. I didn’t like this song the first time I heard it, but like so many of his songs, I just can’t get it out of my head now.

9. Wasted On the Way — Crosby, Stills & Nash

In 1982, Crosby, Stills & Nash peaked here at #9 (their second highest charting single behind 1977’s “Just a Song Before I Go”), and also had a #18 hit with “Southern Cross.” Do you think they were thinking, “Hello, ’80s!”? Because that certainly didn’t happen. Not that it matters, but “Wasted On the Way” was their final Top 40 appearance.

Interesting story behind Daylight Again, the album containing the single: it was intended to be a Stills & Nash project, mainly due to Crosby’s never-ending drug problems. They went straight to the B-list for possible replacements, including Art Garfunkel and the Cryptkeeper Timothy B. Schmit, but the folks at Atlantic Records pretty much told ‘em they had to get Crosby or the album wasn’t happening. Crosby and Nash tried to hold their ground, even paying for the recording sessions out-of-pocket, but eventually relented and asked Crosby to join the project. Personally, my imagery goes straight to Crosby in a Hawaiian shirt, being dragged on his back by his ponytail into the studio while eating a slice of pizza, never quite realizing what’s happening, and the scary thing is that it might not be far from the truth.

For all that I love harmony and acoustic music, I’ve never been much of a CSN fan. One of the guitarists in my band is always asking me why I don’t care for CSN, so I was excited to tell him that I actually like this one. You know what he said? “Oh, that one’s so wimpy.” I said, “…As opposed to what?” Either way, I do think this is a nice song. I think the instrumentation on the studio version is pretty much unnecessary; I like this live version from 1982 instead. You really do get the sense that Crosby has no idea where the hell he is. Check out the part where he makes the “shhh” motion, either to an already-quiet audience or the goblins doing a rain dance in his head. It doesn’t matter, though; they sound fantastic.

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Chartburn: 1/4/08

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Mainstream Rock: Steve Miller Band, “I Want to Make the World Turn Around” (1986)

Scott: Man, I really like this tune. Its moodiness and slinky backbeat really resonate. His guitar playing reminds me of Gilmour in his ’80s heyday. I don’t even mind that sax part.

John: Well, it’s no “Bongo Bongo,” that’s for sure. Talk about making a hasty retreat from synthpop to Glenn Frey-ville. Some people call him the Midnight Cowboy — I call him the Gangster of Sludge. (more…)