Between radio gigs and freelance writing assignments, I am busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest right now, and I expect to find myself with much, much less time to noodle around with this blog over the next few weeks. So until the siege of actual remunerative labor eases, a lot of what you read here will be repeats of earlier posts. Because even old-time readers don’t have an encyclopedic knowledge of all 1350-some posts that have appeared in this blog’s history, and new readers are coming along all the time, this seems like an OK idea. I’ll write new stuff when I can, but I don’t know how much or how often.
I was never sorry to see school start in the fall. I recall asking my mother one time if she thought that was weird. She said, “No, it’s your job, and everybody needs to get back to work.” (I remember this, but it doesn’t mean it really happened. But it’s the kind of thing I would have asked and she would have said, so it’s true either way.) Looking back over the record charts from various back-to-school weeks, the most vivid comes from 1972. The radio was always on in the summertime, but that August, I must have lived with it even more intensely than usual, because the chart fairly drips with humidity, and the light comes brightly back even at a distance of 35 years. Several of these records put me back into the waning days of summer, or aboard the school bus on some rural road, or in some classroom noticing some girl I’d never noticed before.
1. “Brandy”/Looking Glass. (up from 2) I didn’t buy this on a 45, although my brother did, and I played his copy a lot. This is AM radio glory that you couldn’t improve upon.
4. “Hold Your Head Up”/Argent. (up from 6) Pretty heavy stuff for the Top 40, even in its edited form (to less than three minutes from over six), but that was the great thing about the Top 40, right?
6. “I Don’t Want to Be Right”/Luther Ingram. (down from 5) I would not have been able to talk knowledgeably about the glories of Southern soul at that point; all I knew was that there was something different about this kind of music, and I liked it.
7. “Goodbye to Love”/Carpenters. (up from 9) Karen Carpenter doesn’t often get the recognition she’s due for possessing a beautiful and unique voice. (Try singing along with her sometime. Even if you’re a guy, can you get that low?) As for “Goodbye to Love,” it’s a vastly underrated record in the Top 40 pantheon, containing as many killer hooks as any Carps record ever did.
10. “Guitar Man”/Bread. (up from 14) Although they’re synonymous today with mellow makeout music, in ’72 Bread had rocked within recent memory on records like “Let Your Love Go” and “Mother Freedom,” so the slide and wah-wah they deploy on “Guitar Man” wasn’t as great a departure then as it seems now.
11. “Back Stabbers”/O’Jays. (up from 18) This was the year I would become a confirmed Philly soul freak. I’d bought my first Stylistics record earlier (“You Are Everything”), and before the year was out I’d be introduced to the Spinners, Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes, Billy Paul—and the O’Jays.
13. “Rock and Roll Part 2″/Gary Glitter. (up from 25) I bought this on a 45, too, and if there were ever a record made for 45s and AM radio—and public-address systems in arenas and stadiums—this is it. Play it on FM or CD and it loses almost everything that made it such a smash back in the day.
15. “Happiest Girl in the Whole USA”/Donna Fargo. (down from 11) Fargo’s crossover success from country, with this and its even-bigger followup, “Funny Face,” is a bit hard to figure. That this could play on the same station in the same quarter hour with Gary Glitter or Argent makes me woozy.
17. “Black and White”/Three Dog Night. (debut) More cowbell from a band with an all-access pass to the Fountain of Hooks.
2o. “Beautiful Sunday”/Daniel Boone. (up from 21) As a genre, bubblegum’s day was largely past by 1972, but its influence never went away. It’s heard on this relentlessly happy record, which describes the kind of Sunday that seemed pretty appealing to my 12-year-old self. And to my 47-year-old self, too.
(Originally posted August 31, 2007.)