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This past week has been heartbreaking for those of us who love music — especially if you grew up on the sounds of the ’60s and ’70s.  We lost two absolute legends of Rock and Soul: Sly Stone and Brian Wilson, both coincidentally at the age of 82.

If you’ve read my missives before, you already know the major milestones of their lives and careers.  But if you’re still hungry for more, I recommend their New York Times obituaries:

• Sly Stone
• Brian Wilson

So much has already been said about them this week that I’ll keep this post short and sweet.

While There’s a Riot Goin’ On (1971) is widely considered Stone’s masterpiece, I’ve always had a soft spot for his earlier release of new material, Stand! (1969).

The album’s title track, “Stand!”, cracked the Billboard Hot 100 Top 40 — an impressive feat for a song that doubled as a subtle civil rights anthem. Its message of empowerment resonated broadly, not just with Black Americans, but with all underrepresented groups — including hippies.  Maybe that’s part of why it struck such a chord.  That, and its absolutely infectious melody.

As for Brian Wilson, his masterpiece is Pet Sounds (1966) — and you won’t hear any argument from me.  Just look at how it’s fared in critical rankings over the years:

Year	Organization	Accolade	Rank
1993	The Times	The 100 Best Albums of All Time[522]	1
	New Musical Express	New Musical Express Writers Top 100 Albums[521]	1
1995	Mojo	Mojo’s 100 Greatest Albums of All Time[572]	1
1997	The Guardian	100 Best Albums Ever[573]	6
	Channel 4	The 100 Greatest Albums[574]	33
2000	Virgin	The Virgin Top 100 Albums[575]	18
2001	VH1	VH1’s Greatest Albums Ever[576]	3
2002	BBC	BBC 6 Music: Best Albums of All Time[577]	11
2003	Rolling Stone	The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time	2
2006	Q	Q Magazine’s 100 Greatest Albums Ever[578]	12
	The Observer	The 50 Albums That Changed Music[579]	10
2012	Rolling Stone	The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time[580]	2
2015	Platendraaier	Top 30 Albums of the 60s[581]	7
2016	Uncut	200 Greatest Albums of All Time[523]	1
2017	Pitchfork	The 200 Best Albums of the 1960s[582]	2
2020	Rolling Stone	The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time[583]	2
2023	Rolling Stone	The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time[584]	2
2024	Paste	The 300 Greatest Albums of All Time[585]	10

The standout track? “God Only Knows.”

It’s the most perfect pop song ever written and recorded.  The lead vocal is stunning, the harmonies are flawless, and the instrumentation—courtesy of the legendary Wrecking Crew — is nothing short of sublime.  Wilson, as producer, guided it all.  The Baroque stylings complement the lyrics beautifully, and small touches — like Hal Blaine’s use of sleigh bells (who uses sleigh bells outside of Christmas music?) — elevate it to something transcendent.  It’s one of the few songs that can still bring me to tears.

Even Paul McCartney, no slouch in the songwriting department himself, has often named “God Only Knows” as the greatest song ever written.

As the week winds down, let’s take a moment to honor Sly Stone and Brian Wilson — for making this world a better, more soulful, more beautiful place through their music.

Enjoy… until next week.

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Nearly 47 years ago to the day, the British new wave group The Motors released their hit “Airport” — just a few days before my college graduation.

The song reached #4 on the UK charts and broke into the Top 10 in several other European countries.  While it didn’t bother the U.S. charts, it did receive a fair amount of airplay on college and alternative rock radio stations.

I’m tempted to label “Airport” a UK one-hit wonder, though that’s not entirely accurate. Andrew McMaster — the band’s songwriter, vocalist, and keyboardist — also penned “Forget About You,” which climbed to #13 in the UK.

Although McMaster led The Motors, it was his bandmate Bram Tchaikovsky who arguably found greater post-Motors success. After leaving the group in 1979, Tchaikovsky formed his own eponymous band and scored a U.S. Top 40 hit with “Girl of My Dreams,” which peaked at #37 — making him a one-hit wonder stateside as well.

“Girl of My Dreams” is Tchaikovsky’s ode to his inflatable doll:

Some of the late ’70s and early ’80s power pop still holds up surprisingly well — even if only as a guilty pleasure.

Judy was an American girl
She came in the morning with the U.S. mail
Didn’t say nothing but she looked pretty good to me

Golden hair that shined so bright

Loving eyes that seem out of sight

She could keep the secrets that we shared in my world of dreams

Some of the late ’70s and early ’80s power pop still holds up surprisingly well — even if only as a guilty pleasure.

Enjoy… until next week.

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I just learned that David Thomas, the leader of the avant-garde rock band Pere Ubu, died yesterday. In his honor, I’m reposting a SotW that was originally sent to my mailing list on July 18, 2009. You can read more here: https://www.theguardian.com/music/2025/apr/24/pere-ubu-david-thomas-rewrote-rocknroll RIP.

The song of the week is “Heaven” by Pere Ubu.

The Cleveland based band pioneered the “art punk” genre and were a major influence on any number of groups, from Talking Heads to The Pixies.  Here’s a description of the band from the Trouser Press:

In its first incarnation, Ubu combined disorienting, often dissonant, rock and urban blues in a stunningly original and outlandish mix, but never lost an urgent, joyous party atmosphere. Lead singer David Thomas’ plebeian warble, the band’s most noticeable sonic feature, colors all of Ubu’s proceedings in a bizarre light; casual listeners might, as a result, overlook the powerful, polished musicianship. One of the most innovative American musical forces, Pere Ubu is to Devo what Arnold Schoenberg was to Irving Berlin.

“Heaven” was originally released as the b-side to their indie single “Modern Dance” in 1977.  It was later included on the Datapanik In The Year Zero EP (1978).

About two decades ago I made a mix tape that my cousin Tom listened to on a cross country trip.  “Heaven” was on it. He later told me the tape saved him from hours of boring, heartland country music stations.  If that’s true, it was because songs like this get better with every listen. 

Enjoy… until next week.

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The Radiants were a R&B/soul group in the ‘60s.  As was typical of the day, the group underwent several personnel changes.  They hit their stride as a trio led by Maurice McAlister, who was also half of the duo Maurice and Mac (McLarin Green) who recorded the timeless “You Left the Water Running” (1968).

In 1964, the Radiants scored a #51 hit on the Billboard charts with “Voice Your Choice,” a Curtis Mayfield-inspired track.

This song is masterfully played (dig the horns) and beautifully sung.  Dave Marsh, in his book The Heart of Rock & Soul – The 1001 Greatest Singles Ever Made, notes, “The singers switch the lead from line to line, their pleas rising and falling with varying amounts of tension and raunch.”  Marsh positioned the track at #348.

Though its lyrics aren’t political, this track is a staple every election day. It tells the story of choosing one love over another — a terrific example of Chicago-style soul.

Enjoy… until next week.

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Now that the presidential election is over, I’ll be stepping back from the news and tuning into other things on TV — probably more sports and binge-watching some series.  Before I started a heavy travel schedule in mid-September, I began rewatching The West Wing from the beginning.  I wish Jed Bartlet were really running for president. Now that was a man of character!

One of my favorite scenes is from Season 1, Episode 18, “Six Meetings Before Lunch.”  In this episode, the White House staff successfully confirms their first Supreme Court nominee, Justice Roberto Mendoza.  The team throws an impromptu celebration party, and they coax C.J. Cregg (Allison Janney) to perform her iconic lip-sync routine to “The Jackal.”

“The Jackal” is a track by British guitarist Ronny Jordan, released in 1993.  The Grammy-nominated Jordan was known for his style of music, often called “urban jazz” or “acid jazz.”

The track features a spoken-word vocal by Dana Bryant, telling the story of a streetwise ladies’ man, with heavy use of ‘70s street slang:

Fly boy was in the buttermilk, hard, livin’ fast, livin’ large, 6 foot 4 and not an ounce of fat!

When women asked, ‘is you a Cat?’ He said ‘I did more that that.

I’m the froest of the fro

And in case you hadn’t known, they call me ‘The Jackal’.

Jordan passed away at the young age of 51 in 2014, leaving behind a legacy in jazz that’s still celebrated by fans today.

Enjoy… until next week.

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Guest contributor Jim Iacoponi wrote today’s SotW.  Jim is a tie-dyed-in-the-wool fan of the Grateful Dead.  He attended over 50 Grateful Dead concerts before Jerry Garcia died in 1995 and has seen countless more shows in the various group configurations since.  Besides being a Dead Head, Jim is a talented engineer, an artistic ceramist, and an exceptional pizzaiolo!  TM

On Friday, October 25^th, the music world lost a deeply loved and most talented musician, the Bay Area’s own Phil Lesh. He was 84.

A founding member of the Grateful Dead, Phil was rarely in the spotlight when the band performed its 2,284 concerts from 1965 through 2015, leaving that largely to Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir. Back in the day, “let Phil sing” was often shouted out by fans. He rarely did.

Of the 484 songs (original and cover) that the Dead performed over the years only 4 were penned by Phil. Yet it was his bass that drove the band, its pace, and strength, and his deep musical connection with Jerry that bent each show to the heights and breadth of where jams could go. If Jerry was the explorer and Bob the storyteller, Phil was the bedrock from which the group launched its trips.

In the early ‘70s my high school friend Peter had the first (and best) car cassette player I’d ever seen with 30 watts per channel and two 8-inch speakers in his Impala. Peter had hours of live Dead shows: Carousel Ballroom, Winterland, Eugene, Cow Palace. We cruised a lot! And there I first met Phil.

The Dead’s 2^nd sets were known for their spacey jams, moving from one song to the next with epic wandering and reconnection. They captured their and the crowds’ moment, hitting that ‘high point’ for the evening. No two sets were alike. “The Other One” was a 2^nd set fan favorite. Phil’s bass opens it with a riff all Heads know and continues to pulse and push, as Bob’s voice tells a tale of a trip on a bus driven by Cowboy Neal (Cassady, of Merry Pranksters fame) to Nevereverland.

Those magical bootleg tapes and Phil’s bass hooked me for life.

The well-known song “Truckin’” always got fans back up on their feet after a slower ballad and with Jerry, Phil’s bass jumpstarts the tune and carries the rhythm through to the end. “Truckin’s” lyric traces the band on a US tour with stops in cities out East and commentary on a few:

On January 30, 1970, the Dead’s hotel in New Orleans was raided and the band was busted on marijuana charges:

…Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on Main Street

Chicago, New York, Detroit and it’s all on the same street

Your typical city involved in a typical daydream

Hang it up and see what tomorrow brings

Dallas, got a soft machine

Houston, too close to New Orleans

New York got the ways and means

But just won’t let you be…

Sittin’ and starin’ out of the hotel window

Got a tip they’re gonna kick the door in again

I’d like to get some sleep before I travel

But if you got a warrant, I guess you’re gonna come in

Busted, down on Bourbon Street

Set up, like a bowlin’ pin

Knocked down

It get’s to wearin’ thin

They just won’t let you be…

In classic Phil fashion, his bass tees up the song’s beloved refrain. Even today at shows by all of the bands that celebrate the Dead’s music, his driving riff is memorialized, and the crowd responds, singing at the top of the top of their lungs:

…Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me

Other times I can barely see

Lately it occurs to me

What a long, strange trip it’s been…

Phil and Dead lyricist Robert Hunter wrote what I think is one of the most poignant of the Dead’s songs, “Box Of Rain.” Phil was coming to terms with his father’s succumbing to cancer, thinking about the past, wondering about the future, and how to bring peace and comfort in such distress:

…Look out of any window

Any morning, any evening, any day

Maybe the sun is shining

Birds are winging or rain is falling from a heavy sky

What do you want me to do

To do for you to see you through?

For this is all a dream we dreamed

One afternoon long ago…

The singer offers a ‘box of rain’ as a way to bring solace, and love to lighten the load:

…What do you want me to do

To do for you to see you through?

A box of rain will ease the pain

And love will see you through…

And while he didn’t sing lead often, Phil’s uneven voice carried the audience through “Box of Rain,” offering its closing lyrics with depth and personal tenderness:

…And it’s just a box of rain

I don’t know who put it there

Believe it if you need it

Or leave it if you dare

And it’s just a box of rain

Or a ribbon for your hair

Such a long, long time to be gone

And a short time to be there.

“Box of Rain” was the last song in the encore of the Dead’s last show (at Soldier Field) in 1995, before Jerry died.

Almost two years ago my family committed our Dad’s ashes to the Pacific under the Golden Gate Bridge in a beautiful ceremony of remembrance, kinship, and closure. I chose to say “see you around” to Dad by playing the Dead’s “Brokedown Palace” on the boat that day.

While not one of Phil’s four songs, it lives because Phil did. The song ends:

..Fare you well, fare you well

I love you more than words can tell

Listen to the river sing sweet songs

To rock my soul.

It is indeed a fitting farewell to the life-long friend of that tie-dyed tribe Phil helped guide for nearly six decades.

Thank you, Phil. For Deadheads and music fans everywhere, you’ll live on because the music you made for all those years will always live on. What a long, strange trip indeed!

Enjoy… until next week.

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Today’s post is the next episode of my “Contrast” series.  The subject is the use of the phrase “wrecking ball” as a metaphor.

The concept of a “wrecking ball” has inspired numerous musicians across different genres, each bringing their unique style and interpretation to the metaphor. This post will compare and contrast “Wrecking Ball” by Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, Ryan Adams, Bruce Springsteen, Joe Walsh, and Miley Cyrus, focusing on lyrical themes, musical style, and emotional impact.

The first song I heard using “wrecking ball” was on Neil Young’s Freedom (1989) album.  Emmylou Harris’s cover of “Wrecking Ball,” from her 1995 Grammy Award-winning album of the same name, produced by Daniel Lanois, presents a haunting and ethereal sound.  The song features lush, atmospheric production, blending elements of country, folk, and rock.

Young’s lyrics, as sung by Harris, convey a sense of longing and introspection, as she sings about love and loss with a poignant, almost spiritual quality.  The song’s slow tempo and Harris’s emotive vocals create a melancholic yet beautiful listening experience.  Young’s wrecking ball refers to the place where he will meet his love interest.  It’s a play on the use of the word “ball” as a dance.

Gillian Welch’s “Wrecking Ball,” from her critically acclaimed 2003 album Soul Journey, offers a more stripped-down, acoustic approach.

Welch’s song stays true to her Americana and folk roots, featuring simple guitar and banjo accompaniment. The lyrics depict a narrative of resilience and determination in the face of adversity. Welch’s warm, earthy voice delivers the story of her self-destructive behavior as a young woman with a sense of intimacy and raw emotion, making it a personal and reflective song.

I was just a little Deadhead
A fallen daughter on a scholarship
I got tired and let my average slip

Then I was a farmer in the Pogonip
Where the weed that I recall
Was like a wrecking ball

Ryan Adams’s eponymous 14^th album became known to his fans as Self-Titled (2014).  I saw him perform solo at The Guild, in Menlo Park, where he played the full album, in order, to celebrate its 10th anniversary.  A standout was “My Wrecking Ball.”

Ryan Adams’s “My Wrecking Ball,” combines elements of rock and folk. The song is characterized by its melancholic melody and introspective lyrics, reflecting on themes of heartbreak and emotional turmoil. Adams’s plaintive vocals and the song’s sparse arrangement create a sense of vulnerability and desolation, making it a poignant exploration of personal struggle.

I interpret Adams’s use of the phrase “wrecking ball” as a substitute for the idiom “knock me off my feet.”

Driving through the streets tonight
It’s hard I got the windows down
I wish I could call you
I wish you were still around
Nothing much left in the tank
Somehow this thing still drives
You forgot what it needed
But somehow still survives
And all the walls we built they must come down
Hey, you’re my wrecking ball
Won’t you come and maybe knock me down

Bruce Springsteen’s 17^th studio album was titled Wrecking Ball.  The title song was originally released as a live single in 2009, but later ended up in a studio version on the 2012 album release.

Bruce Springsteen’s “Wrecking Ball,” takes on a more socio-political angle.  The song serves as an anthem of resilience and defiance, addressing the struggles of the working class and the challenges faced by modern America.  Springsteen’s rock-influenced sound, combined with his powerful lyrics and energetic delivery, creates an uplifting and motivational atmosphere. The song’s chorus, with its call to “bring on your wrecking ball,” embodies a spirit of resistance and determination.

I was raised out of steel here in the swamps of Jersey, some misty years ago
Through the mud and the beer, and the blood and the cheers, I’ve seen champions come and go
So if you got the guts mister, yeah, if you got the balls
If you think it’s your time, then step to the line, and bring on your wrecking ball

Bring on your wrecking ball
Bring on your wrecking ball
Come on and take your best shot, let me see what you got
Bring on your wrecking ball

Joe Walsh released his album Analog Man (2012) with the help of Jeff Lynne.  It also has a song called “Wrecking Ball” that was co-written with country artist Tommy Lee James.

Joe Walsh’s “Wrecking Ball,” infuses his signature classic rock style with a bluesy edge.  The song features Walsh’s distinctive guitar work and a driving rhythm, creating a dynamic and energetic sound.  Lyrically, Walsh uses the wrecking ball metaphor to address themes of change and upheaval, both personal and societal.  It is a call to live your life with fearless, reckless abandon.  His gritty vocals and the song’s robust instrumentation make it a powerful and anthemic track.

Live your life like a wrecking ball
Just get carried away
And then you bounce back from another close call
Live your life like a wrecking ball

In 2013, pop star Miley Cyrus dropped a single called “Wrecking Ball” that soared all the way to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100.  In fact, it reached #1 twice, with a nine-week gap between its runs to the top.

Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball,” is arguably the most commercially successful and widely recognized of the songs listed.  This pop ballad, produced by Dr. Luke and Cirkut, features a blend of emotional vulnerability and powerful vocal delivery.  The lyrics discuss the pain and devastation of a broken relationship, with the wrecking ball metaphor symbolizing the destructive force of love. Cyrus’s passionate performance and the song’s catchy, dramatic chorus have made it a standout hit in her career.

I came in like a wrecking ball
I never hit so hard in love
All I wanted was to break your walls
All you ever did was wreck me
I came in like a wrecking ball
Yeah, I just closed my eyes and swung
Left me crashing in a blazing fall
All you ever did was wreck me
Yeah, you, you wreck me

The diverse interpretations of “Wrecking Ball” by Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, Ryan Adams, Bruce Springsteen, Joe Walsh, and Miley Cyrus highlight the versatility of the metaphor and its ability to convey a wide range of emotions and themes. From personal heartbreak to societal defiance, each artist brings their unique perspective and style to the concept, creating distinct and memorable musical experiences.

Enjoy… until next week.

I recently learned that alto sax player David Sanborn died on May 12th. In tribute to his artistry, I’d like to post a SotW essay I originally published on July 5th, 2008.

Sometimes a song immediately transports you back to a certain time and/or place.  When it comes on, you can remember every detail of some moment in your life when it was playing.

This week’s song is that way for me.  It is called “The Finer Things” and is credited to saxophonist David Sanborn.  But it was written by Donald Fagen and is performed by the usual Steely Dan cast of characters (that also included Sanborn), so it sounds to me more like The Dan than Sanborn’s usual smooth jazz.

It comes from the soundtrack to Martin Scorsese’s black comedy, The King of Comedy.  Incidentally, that soundtrack also includes out takes and special one off recordings by several other top notch artists such as Robbie Robertson, Van Morrison and Rickie Lee Jones. It’s worth picking up.

But let’s get back to my visceral connection to this song…  Back in the early 80s I spent a few 4ths of July at the beach in Ogunquit, ME.  At the end of one long day of tanning in the sun, it seemed like the whole beach decided they’d had enough at the same time.  As the exodus of beach goers packed up and started walking back to their cars, bars or motel rooms, I popped a cassette tape of this song into a boom box I was carrying.  The song (more or less an instrumental) seemed to perfectly capture the mood of the moment.  As we walked along, a couple of different strangers even tapped me on the shoulder to ask what was playing.

Every time I hear this song I “feel” the heat of the sun in my tanned skin.  I “see” the tired crowd of people dragging their coolers and beach chairs toward town.  I can “smell” the salt water and sun tan lotion.  (Remember Bumble?  Debbie?)

Obviously, this song won’t have the same meaning for you, but if you like Steely Dan (and who doesn’t?) I know you’ll enjoy this selection.

Until next week.

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My wife is reading Gold Dust Woman: The Biography of Stevie Nicks (2017), by Stephen Davis.  She occasionally reads a section to me that she finds to be particularly interesting.  I will have to read it myself when she finishes.

So to celebrate Stevie, I’ll make today’s SotW a Nicks’ obscurity – a cover of the Atlanta Rhythm Section’s “Imaginary Lover.”

April Fools!

This recording is actually the Atlanta Rhythm Section played at a higher speed.  But you have to admit… it really sounds like Nicks!

The legend is that back in 1978, when both Fleetwood Mac and ARS were at the top of their games, a radio DJ accidentally played “Imaginary Lover” at 45 rpm rather than 33 1/3 and was amazed at how much it sounded like Nicks.

A Rolling Stone article by Cameron Crowe reported:

News quickly reached Nicks in Los Angeles. She rushed out to buy the record and played it at the wrong speed. “I got chills,” says Stevie. “It sounds exactly like something I’d sing, the way I’d sing it. I even played it for Christine [McVie], mixed in with some other demos for the new album. She complimented me on it.”

Out of respect for the ARS, here’s their original, played at the proper speed.

Think of the fun we’re missing out on, now that radio stations only play digital recordings!

Enjoy… until next week.

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Today’s SotW has very little actual music.  Instead, it brings some levity to the holiday with a few bits of ‘70s stoner Christmas comedy.  Who even knew that was a thing!?!

Let’s start with my favorite comedy troupe of all time, The Firesign Theatre.

Only the Firesign would use a Christmas hymn (The First Noel) as a vehicle for their absurdist humor.

“Toad Away” was the lead track from Dear Friends (1972).  Dear Friends was a compilation of routines that the Firesign recorded from the radio show they had on KPFK in Los Angeles, from September 1970 to February 1971.

Who better represents ‘70s stoner humor than Cheech & Chong?  Their first release on a single was their holiday bit, “Santa Claus and His Old Lady” (1971).

Aside from the politically incorrect references to Santa’s wife as his “old lady” and the elves as midgets, this is still a pretty entertaining story.  The part where Santa gets held up at the border shows that things haven’t changed much in 50 years.

I first discovered “Santa Doesn’t Cop Out on Dope” (1972) on the Warner Brothers Loss Leader album All Singing – All Talking – All Rocking (1975).  Do you remember those terrific samplers?

“Santa Doesn’t Cop Out…” is typical snarky Martin Mull humor.  It was later covered by Sonic Youth for the Christmas compilation Just Say Noel (1976).

Now I’m primed to hit the spiked eggnog.  Merry Christmas!

Enjoy… until next week.