Posts Tagged ‘Greatest Hits’

Forty years ago today, I was three months shy of 12 years old. I won’t go too in-depth about the wider world or even mine, as I covered both just a few weeks back, but know this: I was not music savvy. I liked The Sound of Music, enjoyed Donny & Marie and The Brady Bunch Variety Hour, and even had a few Brady Kids LPs. That was it.

Of the Bradys: Like many of my generation, thanks to its endless loop of reruns, The Brady Bunch became a series that I knew (and still know) like the back of my hand – better, in fact, because I never stared at my hand the way that I stared at the TV in those days. It didn’t matter that I never saw the show on Friday nights (we moved to Saudi in 1970, after all, so it was never an option); it was on every day, just like The Partridge Family… and The Monkees.

The Monkees made me laugh. And, too, I liked the songs – quite a bit. So, after school at 5pm, I tuned in (I think) Philadelphia’s now-defunct Channel 48, WKBS, which aired back-to-back episodes of it. And, as I noted in my desk diary this day in 1977, picked up their Greatest Hits, which had been released the previous year. (I’m actually surprised that I forgot about this LP when writing about my first tentative steps into music fandom, but so it goes.)

In the years since, I should mention, I’ve picked up more of their albums and the Listen to the Band box set, and even enjoyed their Head feature film both in an actual movie theater (the TLA on South Street, back when the TLA showed movies) and on video. But this collection, for me, is their best collection…

And, with that: Today’s Top 5: April 23, 1977 (via my Desk Diary) – The Monkees!!!

1) “Last Train to Clarksville.”

2) “Listen to the Band.”

3) “I’m a Believer.”

4) “Pleasant Valley Sunday.”

5) “(I’m Not Your) Stepping Stone.”

And one bonus…

“Shades of Gray.”

Okay, two. Here’s the entire LP, which consisted of 11 songs:

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Yesterday, I explored the Archive – no, not our attic, but an ephemera store in Lansdale, Pa. I was there once before, found its contents fascinating, and with time to kill yesterday spent a good three hours combing through second- and third-hand books, magazines and other things, including 45s, LPs, sheet music, maps, autographed pictures and…did I mention magazines? You name it, chances are they have a copy – though not the “Women in Revolt” issue of Newsweek, sad to say. The treasures I came home with were relatively modest: two issues of Rolling Stone, one Creem from ’81 and two Newsweeks (one from 1966, the other from ’69).

fullsizeoutput_1112This Rolling Stone is dated December 2, 1976; I covered much of the year here, so won’t repeat myself. But in addition to marking America’s bicentennial, the Flyers crushing the Soviets and a presidential election, the year is notable for a few personal reasons: I finished elementary school in the spring, turned 11 in the summer, and entered Loller Middle School, the first of two middle schools in the combined Hatboro-Horsham school district, in the fall. (Hatboro-Horsham had one middle school for 6th and 7th grades and another for 8th and 9th grades.) Oh, and that summer my family moved from a rented townhouse on the edge of Hatboro to a home in its heart, which meant instead of taking the bus, I walked to the school. The trek was about half a mile, and took me past Burdick’s, a newsstand-soda shop that also sold reams of candy.

Oh, and at Loller? Unlike every other school in the district, jeans were banned. (I’m sure that added clothing expense went over well with parents.)

With that said, here’s today’s Top 5: December 2, 1976.

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1) Linda Ronstadt – “Tracks of My Tears.” Linda, whose first Greatest Hits album had just been released, graces the cover. The Cameron Crowe-penned article delves into how her life had changed since the release of her breakthrough album, Heart Like a Wheel, two years earlier. (The entire article is available online.) The set collects her hits from 1967 (“Different Drum” with the Stone Poneys) through 1975’s Prisoner in Disguise, which is where this rendition of the classic Smokey Robinson & the Miracles hit comes from.

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2) Jackson Browne – “Here Comes Those Tears Again.” A simple ad hawks Browne’s fourth album, The Pretender, which was his first release following the March 1976 suicide of his first wife, Phyllis. This song was co-written with Phyllis’ mother, Nancy Farnsworth, but predates Phyllis’ death by a year or so.

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3) Heart – “Dreamboat Annie.” As I explained back in October, the Dreamboat Annie LP took some time to sail up the charts.

 

fullsizeoutput_111b4) Bob Dylan – “Lay, Lady, Lay.” In the lead review, Kit Rachlis calls the Hard Rain album an “enigma,” “atrociously recorded,” “problematic,” “a psychodrama of the most solipsistic sort” and a “revisionist critique of [Dylan’s] of his own past. He is not so much reinterpreting his work as blowing it apart.” That is to say, “Mostly his voice pushes the songs past recognition, beyond interpretation.” Of the performance of this classic song, he observes that it’s “no longer a request, but a demand.” And if, after all that, you’re still not sure what he thinks of Hard Rain, he concludes with: “Like a true primitive, Dylan’s work functions as a direct megaphone to himself. The result has been some of the most brilliant art that popular culture in this country has ever produced. But it also means that Dylan is at once his own best and worst critic. Hard Rain is the product of the latter.”

Unfortunately, I can’t find any tracks from the live album on YouTube. So, instead, here’s a 45 for “Lay, Lady, Lay” from 1969 –

5) Lou Reed – “You Wear It So Well.” Lou’s Rock and Roll Heart album did not win over reviewer Frank Rose, who says that it’s “less a collection of rock & roll songs than a series of meditations” and, after giving Lou his due for the continued influence of the Velvet Underground, observes that “[t]he key phrases [on the album] are all refrains: ‘I’m banging on my drum’; ‘You wear it so well’; ‘You’re caught in a vicious circle’; ‘It’s just a temporary thing.’ Reed chants them like mantras, until they’re almost stripped of meaning. He has scooped out their depth and given us nothing but surface.” Ouch!

And that’s that. Kinda. Here, in descending order, are the concluding sections of the Linda, Heart and Dylan pieces.

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