Bringing obscure songs from the 1970s such as deep album cuts, underrated cover songs and forgotten singles back on this blog. The 70s was a great time for music, possibly the best and the most diverse; that some gems that need to be rediscovered
A dazzling soundscape of a track by The Miracles, now pursuing the airy landscapes of their former front man Smokey Robinson, this shows off some excellent arrangment sense, reminscemnt of Norman Whitfield, Stevie Wonder and Roy Ayers.
Flowering daisies of fuzzy korg synthesizers bloom over the track representing the dense clouds if air pollution that spring up from the ground instead of from the sky. The twangy chime of a water saw as it is scraped, adds a horror movie ambience fitting for the dangers of the inner city. The group's honeyed choral vocals loop over, Their gossamer harmonies glide over the track, softening the edges of the harsh instrumentation.
The central instrumental hook is a gargly, mewling synth hook ascending in a wah wah scale to a abrupt yelp at the end. It could represent the industrial factories in the workers in them pumping away on autopilot til the sudden blare at the end of the hook representing them burning out.
The scratchy whine of the water saw clash with the rubbery thudding clop of a pair of castanets.
The plish plosh castanets represent leaky pipes or the sparse drops of water, while the weird synths are the overworked machines from AC units to nuclear generators to the hardworking inhabitants that run til they bust.
The atonal harmonics of the nasally clavinet, plopping castanets and water saw creaks and synth shreiks make this a very Progressive in sound.
This luminescent tune begins by fading in with a Theremin warmly buzzing away like a bee on sunny day. It forms the main hook of the song and intro dominating proceedings. Panned acoustic arpeggios, a sharp flute fill out the rest along with an old timey pipe organ the kind you would hear at a circus, fanfare or carnival capturing the spirit of a new relationship.
The Theremin is an oddity that makes the song memorable, it's fresh unique sound was different for a soft soul ballad. The pinging fuzz sound of the Theremin paints a picture in my mind of sunlight blazing out of a clear vibrant blue sky, partially obscured by a thin lens flare. Though a quirky sound, it works in creating a powerful sense of atmosphere like Kool and the Gang’s Summer Madness with its Dragnet style police siren hyperextended synth stings blazing a trail of fire into the stratosphere
The song is sung from the perspective of someone who feels betrayed as his ex's once vivid declaration of love for him which suggested they had a future now plays back in his head.
"We've got blue skies, now can't you see?
There'll never ever be another love for me"
The statement above acts as the chorus of the song, a line that turns out to be nothing more than an empty promise that now haunts the singer. Nicely in the final verse the singer can now hear her make the same pledge being made to her new lover; a suspicious sense of deja vu for the protagonist. The fatalism of the lyrics is pretty mature for what on the surface sounds like a Strawberry Fields type of psych pop nursery ditty.
The three act structure is magical as the guy goes from initial doubts in the first verse to the strong suspicion surface in the second verse and then the humiliation, emptiness and resignment.
The duplicity of his ex girlfriend is confirmed in the last verse as she recites the perfect blue skies of commitment to her new lover. Though the clouds will soon appear on the horizon knowing her track record.
Michael's little chuckle at the end of each verse is a slightly cheesy addition, that I can only guess is him pretending to reminiscing with good spirit. However when he continues to chuckle in the coda, it starts to sound incredibly forced and awkward
An instrumental credited to the band's long serving bassist Tiran Porter, it's dark mystic mood was one of the aspects of the Tom Johnson era of the band where they added a hypnotic jazzy bent to their folk/blues/southern rock sound. Opening with lapping waves and as a crystal clear acoustic progression chimes away; amidst the bucolic arpeggios, a warm heavily saturated synthesizer plays a series of honeyed sustains that sound sunny reggae organs but with smooth distorted polish. Then there is a hyperspatial Pink Floyd sounding slide guitar pinging off and around with a special polyphonic reverberation. This huge echoey slide guitar has the clean tone of Duane Allman but a spacey reverb adding yet another dimension to a track that doesn't even break the two minute barrier. The Grande echoey guitar remind me of The Eagles' portentous Sci-Fi instrumental Journey of the Sorcerer but without the string section and extended track time, this comes off as a cool studio experiment.
A slick soul track from the late 70s that rides on an acoustic guitar lick based around hammer-ons and pull offs that lull you in with its ascending step by step feel. The clear acoustic guitar with tasteful kickdrum throbbing in the background dominates over the traditional sweeping strings, another notable touch is the the bubbling over wah wah watson slide guitar that ends each verse. The acoustic guitar and gospel backing harmonies along the ascending scale of the songs' main hook give the track a golden sunrise gleam while the hushed lead vocals add a soothing seductive vibe.
The acoustic lick is the anchor that kicks off each line of the verse and runs throughout the song like motif that has more to say than the lyrics. However, the lyrics are pensive and meditative in mood, gliding along and opening up our own personal Ocean of thoughts and dreams.
Supposedly based on an incident where a local power station almost blew up half of Detroit, it is also named after a 1975 book on the same subject, it features ghostly echoed synthesizers mimicking the lead vocal with a cool, subtle spookiness that embodied most of Scott-Heron's work. His literary voice, crisply detailing some prose, very visual and tangible and earnest to the core. His melancholy always just slipping underneath the surface of every line, while he is backed by TONTO's Expanding Head Band; a duo whose multi analogue synthesizer setup was a go to for many soul artists of the mid 70s era providing unique textures for each note like an orchestra over the usual synth combo and effects patches. A stunning plea from the wrecks of a once mighty juggernaut of a city. The cold urban landscape captures in the meandering pools of Synthesizer pads and markedly captures the desolate car graveyards of Detroit, where the American Dream died. Laying on a bed of fading blues licks and muted keyboard flutters, the tone of desperation is similar to Marvin Gaye's What's Going On but is accentuated by Herons citified growl; so gentle yet unspeakably ominous and drenched in foreboding, like he is almost resigned to his fate. It reminds me of the quieter, comedown spaced out numbers of Sly Stone but arguably with more socio potency.
Starting with some corny cracks of thunder from an effects library and some overused wind wailing, we get an incredible jolt as a heavily tremolo guitar rings out while a synth zaps a laser bolt like note. The enchanting flute, soothing strings and earthy vocals all combine with the guitar basic tracks to create a very evocative, humid atmosphere; it isn't helped by the corny rain sounds that keep returning. However nothing can take the shine off Wah Wah Watson's guitar work, the rattlesnake torqueage, the clangy, ramshackle chords echoing out in lopsided fashion. The dragged tremble chords act like sploshing puddles as they ripple with every disturbance of its surface while the darting Synthesizer ping; like an beaming ray gun discharge that fires off deep into the dark recesses like a shot to the heart, a zing to a string or even a massive rain drop slipping off a ledge into endless oblivion.
The track begins mid groove, a rhythm guitar sort of lurches around almost sounding like it's two guitars. Then the chirpy 'Morse code' sounding lead guitar of Marc Bolan enters, at first squeaking away in the background before interjecting with that now iconic guitar riff. Staunchly robust, like Link Wray's Rumble, The Kingsmen' Louie Louie or The Kinks' You Really Got Me; all you need is a short, sharp, simple little doodle that grinds itself into your brain.
The sax tail offs at the end of each guitar riff help provide a neat turnaround phrase, so we can swing right back into the start of the riff again. The partially hidden elements of the song, from the bawling saxes to the zinging piano glissandos to the droning backing vocals that creep in from time to time, they all somehow blend seamlessly into the fabrics of the track, which is made up of trembling vocals, leaden guitar, trebly bass and biscuit box drums.
This is a car song in some ways, the way the verses crank up for the ear drum busting chorus or the way the guitar, bass and sax all rev up during the bumping chorus before the ecstatic cry of "Get It On"
What's remarkable is this manages to be both an immortal ode to 50s rock and roll whilst smacking of that soulful/ hipcocking strut that frequently dominated the early 70s rock scene.
One of the great things about this track is how Marc Bolan draws you in with his slithering, entrancing delivery; he never actually overdoes it, there is no lisping or overly camp pronunciations, unlike in other parts of his discography. The repetitive verses with their backstreet metaphors work a charm, you can almost picture Bolan with his jet black, leather jacket swank, coming on to a woman during this song. The leering, suggestive lead vocal, his idling Les Paul guitar, just ticking over; the surging rhythm guitar is the anchor, a calm before the storm before the riotous chorus cracks into life. Suddenly the harmonies wail, the saxes gargle and the guitar screeches fly right off the neck. They are then all bottled back up again, the restless energy is brought back into submission as we slip back into that chug, always ready to explode back into life again.
The underlying tension of the verses are palpable from the subtle scoring of vocal hums; gradually building in size as band members join in on the act, one by one, the volume of the hums increasing as they are steadily pushed further forward in the mix. It sounds like a choir of throat singers or a human didgeridoo at full blast before dropping off again, occasionally returning in waves before dissipating out again; lurking around, waiting to seap back in, ultimately creating an unsettling sense of unease.
The juxtaposition of the agitated, pared down verses into the white hot, yelping chorus with its busy sound and those inimitable harmonies jolting you with shrieking orders to 'get it on', and 'bang a gong' while you're at it, in that order; is it a about drug use, sex or just oriental percussion?
Few cover bands exist that can even attempt T Rex, for many reasons, from the fact Bolan hit such a perfect balance of gritty and yet smooth to the stodgy, glam rock bop to the fact those harmonies were so impossibly shrill and high. For example, the harmony vocal does something unusual; usually the pitch of a vocal line naturally lowers as the vocal drops off, but here the vocal line increases in pitch almost inflecting upwards with each word. Speaking Get It On, the words would all stay flat on the same tone with no deviation, but on the track, Flo and Eddie start high on the first word as they shriek 'Get' then continue to go up, ending even higher on 'on'. It's so hard to replicate as your natural instincts are to lower the pitch as the vocal goes out.
The bump and grind rhythm guitar and cooing snarl of Bolan are poised like a coiled snake ready to pounce as they do in the big hook of the song.
Proceeding at a staggered pace, the guitar riff continues to pip up at the end of every couplet during the verse and each call during the rave up chorus; kinda like an imitation of what a horn part would play in those fills. The rock steady drum beat keeps the whole thing from being let loose and or go off the rails for a few more bars of foreplay, then turning into a heavy oil drum pounding when the chorus begins to rave up, before releasing the tension once again on cue as we slide back into that endless groove.
It's early 70s hard rock in its sensational dynamics and cool swagger, shifting from the gruff masculine verses, which are almost mumbled, to the 'clear as daylight' penetration of those big choral harmonies. The ghostly backing vocals in the chorus are strained and euphoric for the orgasmic chorus, the tempo is driven up, the drum beat ramps up and the song almost climaxes before swiftly shifting down gears for the sensual verses. In between all these elements are Bolan's thrusting posteurs; tossing off axe and vocal licks aplenty and don't forget contributing the initial guitar riff and possessing that almighty, quivering voice that seems to be dragged along by the locked in grooves like a phone on vibrator mode. Bolan bursts out the words, 'Take me!' in an exasperated and breathless tone of voice before unleashing a little guitar part that temporarily fools us into thinking we're gonna get a solo. Instead we continue on this exhausting blues rock carousel; it feels like workout of rock tune, like running on the treadmill with someone constantly putting your pace settings up every four bars.
The monotonous groove, the circular riffs that seem almost synchronised or set off by a timer, as well as the repeated, cheap corner store couplets add to this idea of rock as a western form of mantra; lulling you in whilst exciting all your physical senses. Songs like this are almost transcendental, compared to any club track being played or overplayed in any nightclub, they never get old or too familiar, you're just stuck listening to it on repeat for it's excited highs; trapped on it's catchy conveyor belt. Finally one last point, this song is the epitome of Rock and Roll, in how it rolls along in the teasingly flirtatious verses and then literally rocks you in the chorus.
