Month: March 2018

Top 90 of the ’90s

Posted on by kristen
New Radicals - "You Get What You Give"
The ’90s, what a time for hats.

My husband and I always talk about our “top 90 of the ‘90s” lists, a concept that up until now has been largely theoretical. It’s really easy to say, “Oh yeah, ‘Santa Monica?’ That’s definitely on my list, top 10 for sure.” It’s unclear exactly how many songs have been verbally named to my list at this point, but it’s likely that the top 10 and top 20 now represent mathematical impossibilities.

So I finally decided to sit down and write out my real top 90. As I began this exercise, one thing became immediately clear: it’s impossible. Sure, it’s easy to name 90 great ’90s songs, but it’s also easy to name more than 90 great ’90s songs, so cutting down the list is hard. Then there’s the fact that ranking the songs is so difficult as to border on meaningless. Do I like “You Get What You Give” or “Flagpole Sitta” better? It’s really hard to say. I resorted to a thought exercise where I imagined myself driving my car on a beautiful, sunny day, flipping around the radio. Two songs I’m trying to rank are each playing on a different station. Which one do I pick? That tactic actually helped a lot.

Oasis
Young Oasis, with Liam wearing a very ’90s shirt.

Then there’s the tension between representing personal favorite songs and the best songs of the ’90s. I decided I wanted my list to be the former, but this dichotomy still presented a challenge. I realized that I have a strong mental divide between “songs I like that happen to be from the 90s” and “90s songs.” The first category tends more toward indie, non-hits, and deep cuts. The second category is heavier on one-hit wonders and songs that embody some concept of “90s-ness.” I tend to regard the ’90s category as separate, something I only listen to when I’m deliberately going for a nostalgia trip, so it was hard to integrate them into my “real” favorites. I also struggled with my love for Oasis. They’re my favorite band that was most active in the ’90s, but including, like, 20 Oasis songs in the list just didn’t feel right. So I limited myself to three, though they are all ranked pretty highly.

In the end, I found the most effective strategy was to just do it and not care too much about the finer points of the rankings. I’m sure if I did this again next week or next year, I’d end up with something different. But if nothing else, the result is a list of 90 great songs from the ‘90s that I’d be happy to listen to any time.

Here’s the list! Listen to these songs on Spotify

90. Right Said Fred — “I’m Too Sexy” (1991)
89. Coolio — “1-2-3-4 (Sumpin’ New)” (1996)
88. Lightning Seeds — “Lucky You” (1994)
87. Imperial Drag — “‘Breakfast’ By Tiger” (1996)
86. LFO — “Girl on TV” (1999)
85. Lisa Loeb — “Stay (I Missed You)” (1994)
84. Jimmie’s Chicken Shack — “Do Right” (1999)
83. R.E.M. — “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” (1994)
82. Finley Quaye — “Sunday Shining” (1997)
81. Soul Coughing — “True Dreams of Wichita” (1994)
80. Sloan — “The Lines You Amend” (1996)
79. Super Furry Animals — “Something 4 the Weekend” (1996)
78. Spin Doctors — “Two Princes” (1993)
77. Sparks — “When Do I Get to Sing ‘My Way’?” (1994)
76. Citizen King — “Better Days (And the Bottom Drops Out)” (1999)
75. Nerf Herder — “Sorry” (19996)
74. Seal — “Kiss From a Rose” (1994)
73. The Lemonheads — “If I Could Talk I’d Tell You” (1996)
72. Martin Newell — “She Rings the Changes” (1990)
71. BMX Bandits — “Serious Drugs” (1993)
70. Michael Penn — “I Can Tell” (1997)
69. Old 97s — “19″ (1999)
68. Freedy Johnston — “Bad Reputation” (1994)
67. Deee-Lite — “Groove is in the Heart” (1990)
66. Blind Melon — “No Rain” (1993)
65. The Cardigans — “Lovefool” (1996)
64. Alice in Chains — “No Excuses” (1994)
63. Blur — “Coffee and TV” (1999)
62. Weezer — “El Scorcho” (1996)
61. Foo Fighters — “Big Me” (1996)
60. Skee-Lo — “I Wish” (1995)
59. Jason Faulkner — “Revelation” (1999)
58. Pavement — “Cut Your Hair” (1994)
57. Belle and Sebastian — “She’s Losing It” (1996)
56. Matthew Sweet — “Sick of Myself” (1995)
55. Presidents of the United States of America — “Peaches” (1996)
54. Bend Folds Five — “Philosophy” (1995)
53. Spacehog — “In the Meantime” (1996)
52. Stone Temple Pilots — “Big Bang Baby” (1996)
51. Blur — “Charmless Man” (1995)
50. Cotton Mather — “Lost My Motto” (1994)
49. Third Eye Blind — “Semi-Charmed Life” (1997)
48. Nirvana — “All Apologies” (1993)
47. XTC — “The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead” (1992)
46. The Wonders — “That Thing You Do!” (1996)
45. Pulp — “Common People” (1995)
44. Stroke 9 — “Little Black Backpack” (1999)
43. James — “Laid” (1993)
42. Hootie and the Blowfish — “Only Wanna Be With You” (1994)
41. The Lightning Seeds — “Pure” (1990)
40. Ben Folds Five — “Army” (1999)
39. Blessid Union of Souls — “Hey Leonardo (She Likes Me For Me)” (1999)
38. Polaris — “Hey Sandy” (1993)
37. Jamiroquai — “Canned Heat” (1999)
36. Pernice Brothers — “Overcome by Happiness” (1998)
35. Cornershop — “Brimful of Asha” (1997)
34. Hole — “Celebrity Skin” (1998)
33. Fountains of Wayne — “Radiation Vibe” (1996)
32. Belle and Sebastian — “The Boy With the Arab Strap” (1998)
31. Soup Dragons — “Divine Thing” (1992)
30. Mariah Carey — “Fantasy” (1995)
29. Sixpence None the Richer — “Kiss Me” (1998)
28. Guns N’ Roses — “November Rain” (1992)
27. Teenage Fanclub — “Alcoholiday” (1991)
26. Mary J. Blige — “Real Love” (1992)
25. They Might Be Giants — “Birdhouse in Your Soul” (1990)
24. White Town — “Your Woman” (1997)
23. Backstreet Boys — “I Want it That Way” (1999)
22. Jellyfish — “Baby’s Coming Back” (1990)
21. John Wesley Harding — “The Devil in Me” (1990)
20. Fastball — “The Way” (1998)
19. Sheryl Crow — “Everyday is a Winding Road” (1996)
18. Fountains of Wayne — “Troubled Times” (1999)
17. Harvey Danger — “Flagpole Sitta” (1997)
16. New Radicals — “You Get What You Give” (1998)
15. Oasis — “The Masterplan” (1995)
14. P.M. Dawn — “Art Deco Halos” (1998)
13. Pulp — “Disco 2000” (1995)
12. Macy Gray — “I Try” (1999)
11. Big Audio Dynamite II — “Rush” (1990)
10. Oasis — “Don’t Look Back in Anger” (1995)
9. Aimee Mann — “Fifty Years After the Fair” (1993)
8. XTC — “I’d Like That” (1999)
7. Barenaked Ladies — “It’s All Been Done” (1998)
6. Violent Femmes — “American Music” (1991)
5. Hedwig and the Angy Inch Original Cast — “Wig in a Box” (1998)
4. Blackstreet — “No Diggity” (1996)
3. Everclear — “Santa Monica” (1995)
2. Jellyfish — “Joining a Fanclub” (1993)
1. Oasis — “Whatever” (1994)

Billboard Excavation 1974: Reflections

Posted on by kristen

Disco Tex and his Sex-O-LettesRecently I decided to listen to every song that made the Billboard Hot 100 in 1974. I got the idea from hearing the occasional rerun of Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 on the local oldies station. Casey likes to build up the songs with long, meandering stories or crazy teasers like, “Next up, a man who started beating his wife two months ago.”1 But, surprisingly often, when the payoff comes along, it’s a letdown because I’ve never heard the song before. That experience made me realize that, for any given year, there is a lot of music that was once popular, but for some reason hasn’t survived in the public consciousness.

I decided I wanted to learn more about these forgotten songs and possibly unearth some treasures. I chose a year — 1974 — for no real reason other than that I’m into the ’70s right now. My goal was to put together a one-hour mixtape that highlights lost classics of that year. I envisioned it being like a bizarro version of the hits compilations I used to listen to with my parents when I was a kid. But instead of the same old songs that everyone already knows, it would be filled with songs that sound fresh and new, while still capturing the spirit of the time. You can find that mix, along with notes about each of the songs, on a separate blog post.

As a side effect of this exercise, I learned a lot about 1974 and spent a lot of time reflecting on the nature of hits and the Billboard charts. This companion article shares some observations about the boogie-filled, politically tumulus year that was 1974, as well as some big theories on what makes music endure.

Methodology

To do this project, I used Billboard’s excellent online Hot 100 charts, which let you page through each week of chart history and are visually quite well designed. I started with the week of January 5, 1974, scanned through the chart, and added every song I wasn’t already familiar with to a “new to me” playlist on Spotify (or bookmarked it on YouTube, if it wasn’t available). For the first week, 77 out of 100 songs weren’t familiar to me — quite a high percentage, and probably more than I was expecting. I listened to all the songs and copied any that I liked to a second, “would hear again” playlist. That first week, there were 12 songs that made the cut.

From there on out, things got easier. For each new week, I just had to scan the chart and look for new entries. I ended up with probably 5-10 new songs to hear for each Billboard week. I didn’t keep detailed stats on how it all broke down, but in the end, I listened to 419 songs on Spotify, and maybe another 40-50 on YouTube. Of these, 63 were good enough to hear again. I chose 16 for my final mix, all songs that had their chart peaks in 1974. 2

As an outcome of my method, the definition of “lost classic” became “song Kristen has never heard before.” Who’s to say these songs are really that obscure? I didn’t live through the 70s, and someone who did may end up knowing many of them already. All I can say is that I’ve listened to a lot of oldies and classic rock radio in my life, and I’m very alert to incidental music in my environment. I have a pretty good feel for what’s well-known and what’s not. As a check, I played this mix for my husband, and he didn’t know any of them either, so I think my instincts were sound.

One caveat: I didn’t usually listen to songs that I already knew, since I wouldn’t be considering them for my final mix. But I did notice a lot of what was on the charts, and it’s definitely informed my perception of the year. I also want to acknowledge that there are plenty of great songs from 1974 that were not hits, and many of those may be ironically more well-known now than some of my lost classics. (Big Star’s Radio City came out in ’74, for instance.) And there are probably a lot of great, lost non-hits as well. But the Hot 100 served as a convenient bucket of songs that at least a few people must have liked at some point, and it helped me put some boundaries around the project.

The sounds of ’74

Eddie Kendricks

There’s no question the dominant musical trend of 1974 was soul. The chart was absolutely filled with all variety of soul from slow jams to funk to early disco. Stevie was literate and melodic on “Living for the City,” Marvin smooth on “Let’s Get it On,” James Brown defiant on a track brilliantly titled “Papa Don’t Take No Mess.” Disco Tex turned out the gloriously shambolic “Get Dancin’” and First Class pioneered some powerful, female-led dance tracks. It was also a breakout year for soul artists gone solo. Eddie Kendricks of the Temptations had a big album yielding multiple hits, and as did Motown songwriter Lamont Dozier.

For all that, soul also demonstrated a pattern that held true across genres. For every great track with original melodic and lyrical ideas, there were two or three songs that were straight up dull. Not technically bad or incompetent, just lacking hooks and inspiration, content to coast along sounding mostly like a lot of other songs that were popular at the same time. These songs tended to follow trite romantic conventions like “Sexy Mama” or “Bring Back the Love of Yesterday.” Occasionally, a few artists went off the rails just enough to be noticeable, usually on the lyrical end of things. The sometimes-excellent Chi-Lites turned out two notable clunkers: “Homely Girl” and “There Will Never Be Any Peace (Until God is Seated at the Conference Table).” Oof.

From a rock perspective, 1974 is usually seen as a post-Beatles, pre-punk doldrums, and there’s certainly some validity to that. I found it difficult to represent rock music on my final mix, largely because all rock songs seemed to disqualify themselves in one of two ways. Some were awesome mega-hits that everyone still knows: “Jet,” “Bennie and the Jets,” “D’yer Maker,” “Rikki Don’t Lose that Number” — you get the picture. Everything else was pretty uniformly bad, tending toward boring medium-hard rock by Grand Funk imitators or phone-ins by the already-famous, including Dylan and Ringo. One rare bright spot was “Candy’s Going Bad,” a lesser hit by Golden Earring from the same album as “Radar Love.”

A few other genres made a respectable showing in 1974. Country music was a consistent presence on the charts and demonstrated a good deal of heart and humor, without the overly slick, faux-redneck crap that would mar it in the ’90s. You had lovable simpletons like Tom T. Hall, classy guys like Glen Campbell and Hoyt Axton, and great singer-interpreters like Linda Ronstadt. Novelties were also huge, particularly those by Dickie Goodman, who interspersed fake news interviews with borderline nonsensical responses culled from popular songs. Q: “Mr. President, what really caused the energy crisis?” A: “Smokin’ in the boys room.” Hilarious? Maybe. Finally, bubblegum and light rock continued to have their day. Seals and Crofts turned out pretty, delicate harmonies on “The King of Nothing,” Blue Swede created their immortal “ooga-chaka” backing vocals on “Hooked on a Feeling,” and Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods deliver a surprisingly acidic anti-war message on “Billy Don’t be a Hero.”

On the whole, however, there was nothing on the charts that felt particularly unique or revolutionary. It was a perfectly ordinary year filled with some great songs that that distinguished themselves on craft and performance, lots of mediocre songs that coasted in their wake, and only a small handful of truly awful tracks.3

The wider world

Listening to the music of 1974 opened a window into what was happening in the world at that time, from politics to social trends. Sometime in the February charts, Dickie Goodman’s “Energy Crisis ’74” appeared, followed shortly after by NRBQ’s “Get that Gasoline Blues” and Jerry Reed’s “The Crude Oil Blues.” The degree of humor afforded to the energy crisis is hard to contextualize, because I think people really were panicked at the time, but they also seemed to be laughing about it. It’s probably more apt to compare these songs to today’s YouTube videos and late night comedy sketches than anything on the current pop charts. Parody of world events is still a constant, it’s just changed venues.

After two years of Watergate controversy, Nixon finally resigned in the summer of 1974. While Goodman released his trademark interview send-up, a lot of songs treated these events more seriously. Lamont Dozier’s “Fish Ain’t Bitin’” is eloquent and direct in its hopelessness, ending with the plea, “Tricky Dick, stop your shit.” James Brown, who I sometimes think should have just released a series of song titles and called it a day, turned his attention to Gerald Ford in “Funky President (People It’s Bad).” The song encourages a range of dubiously helpful behaviors from “Get on your good foot, change it!” to “Turn on your funk motor.” Less cogent, perhaps, but equally urgent.

Perhaps directly related to these events is a slew of songs about patriotism. Some are presumably meant to be a conservative backlash to public opinion about the president. However, 1974 conservatism seems borderline liberal by today’s standards. Case in point: Donna Fargo’s “U.S. of A.,” which delivers the unsubtle message, “And when one of/My brothers makes a mistake/Be he peasant or a President/I will try to treat him/As I would want to be treated/With compassion and understanding.” And, yet, the very next lines are “And I will continue to be proud/To pay taxes for the opportunity to live/In the greatest nation in the world.” 4 Jud Strunk’s song-poem “My Country” has a similar mix of now-incompatible views, extolling nature, the Kennedys, veterans, and Jesus, before declaring, “And I don’t stand for everything my country is about/But I am willing to stand for my country.” Despite these moderately refreshing attitudes, all of these songs are pure schmaltz musically and unlistenable except as historical curiosities.

On the lighter side, 1974 was peak streaking, with Ray Stevens’s novelty “The Streak” hitting number one and staying there for three weeks. This song is not very good, and I can’t imagine anyone enjoyed seeing a bunch of random naked people all that much either. 1974 was also the ramp-up to peak boogie, with everyone from rockers to soul singers to country balladeers working this word into their songs with a complete lack of irony. No one sums up the boogieing craze — and perhaps 1974 itself — better than Brownsville Station on the opening to their song “Kings of the Party”: “You can always count on about one hundred to five hundred people/Down at the very front row screaming one word/At the top of their lungs/BOOGIE!!”

What makes a hit endure?

When I started this project, the big question I wanted to answer was “What makes a hit endure?” Having done it, the trait I’d say most correlates with a song’s longevity is it’s memorableness. In many cases, this can be roughly equated with quality, which is a good thing. Songs that have great hooks and melodies, powerful vocal performances, or virtuosic playing tend to be memorable. “The Joker,” “Waterloo,” “Jungle Boogie,” “Rebel, Rebel,” — everyone knows these songs and they hold up. Memorableness can also be the result of more ambiguous sources, including gimmicks, weirdness (how many times do I have to reference Blue Swede?), and even badness. People love to make lists of bad songs, and one of 1974’s biggest hits, Paul Anka’s “(You’re) Having My Baby,” has been a frequent contender for one of the worst songs of all time, even decades after its original release.

This theory is consistent with the 1974 lost classic mix I put together. I’ve really enjoyed listening to the tracks I selected and I think the overall quality is on par with many more famous songs of the day. But I will say that many of these songs took me several listens to really appreciate. Joni Mitchell’s “Free Man in Paris” is a good example. The melody is gorgeous, but I didn’t catch on to it immediately. Contrast this with Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi,” which was actually less successful on the charts, but more remembered today. The instantly memorable “don’t it always seem to go” line is a big reason why. Without an immediate hook, songs seem to stand less of a chance of making it to household name status.

Another factor in the endurance equation is the commercial structures that deliver music to our ears. You can hear music from 1974 on oldies and classic rock stations, but in either case it’s only a sliver of what was actually popular at the time. Since these stations are generally covering the better part of three decades, it makes sense that they play a only few songs from each year and that they choose songs that people like best — determined by extensive market research. One perhaps unintended outcome of this structure is a pro-rock bias. It’s not surprising, since classic rock has an entire radio format of it’s own, while I’ve never encountered, say, a classic soul station.5 I’d hypothesize that this bias is a result of the demographics of U.S. listeners, and even more so the demographics of U.S. radio station owners and executives. The end result that that rock gets a lot of air time and thus is better remembered, while genres like soul, vocal pop, bubblegum, classic country, and comedy must always share their exposure with rock, at least in the mainstream.

The Bee GeesFinally, you can’t discount the role of luck in a song becoming a hit, much less becoming an enduring classic. I recently read a novel called Shadowbahn that explores this idea by imagining that Elvis had never been born. Without Elvis, the Beatles never made it big, and rock/pop fizzled completely as a genre. So one element of luck is the existence of a genealogy of previous music all leading up to your moment, allowing your vision to succeed because the groundwork has been laid. You can see this in the chronology of The Bee Gees. Their 1974 album, Mr. Natural, while incorporating subtle soul elements, didn’t make it big, perhaps because it didn’t sound enough like the zeitgeist. Their next album, Main Course, was a stunning success, maybe because their ideas were more fully realized, but also because they struck while the disco iron was hot.

Big Star’s Radio City was another classic example of bad luck in 1974. It got good reviews, but the band’s record label ran into distribution problems, so copies of the record simply could not be sold. However, attention from music critics in later years has resulted in Radio City ultimately becoming better remembered — at least by a certain crowd — than songs that were hits at the time. You could even say that Big Star’s early obscurity has contributed to their mystique, enhancing their cult status even more. These are factors that no artist can control, yet they have great impact on their trajectory in the public memory.

It’s only natural, given all of these factors, that many deserving hits have been forgotten. But there’s a big bright spot for lost classics, and that’s the current greatness of the internet as a music platform. Even 10 years ago, it would have been very difficult for me to listen to all of these songs without spending an enormous amount of time and money. I probably would never have done it. But thanks to Spotify, YouTube, Mixcloud, and other services, anyone can go back in time, dig up hidden treasure, shine it up, and share it with the world. If nothing else, this project has been a testament to the depth of the pop era and power it still has for renewal and rediscovery.

Sounds Delightful #10: Billboard Excavation 1974

Posted on by kristen

I made this mix of 1974 lost classics by systematically listening to every Billboard Hot 100 single of that year and picking the best songs I had never heard before.  I was inspired by Casey Kasem’s American Top 40, which always seems to be full of once-popular songs that no one remembers. These 16 songs, which all had their chart peak in 1974, sound just as good as the better known hits, plus they feel shiny and new!

1. Disco Tex and the Sex-O-Lettes — “Get Dancin’”
Chart peak: #68, December 7, 1974

It’s a shambolic, early disco mess, but the main hook of the chorus — “TRUCKIN’ with his Sex-O-Lettes” — is terrific, especially with the little harmony overlaid on that line. Tex’s “real” name was Sir Monti Rock III, and he was a celebrity hairdresser turned staple of ’70s New York, appearing frequently on Johnny Carson and Merv Griffin. I love his call outs, especially “Nobody cares how you wear your hair, darling!”

2. Hoyt Axton — “When the Morning Comes”
Chart peak #54, June 29, 1974

The perfect example of the kind of smooth, classy country that could be found the ’70s. There’s a gentle humor that’s very appealing as well. The female singer here is Linda Ronstadt, shining on her solo and harmony vocals. More of a country staple, Axton is perhaps best known in the pop world for writing “Joy to the World” for Three Dog Night.

3. William DeVaughn — “Be Thankful for What You’ve Got”
Chart peak: #4, June 29, 1974

“Be Thankful for What You’ve Got” went to #4 — the biggest hit on this mix — so I’m surprised I’d never heard it. The lines “Diamond in the back/Sunroof top/Diggin’ the scene/With a gangsta lean/Ooh-ooh” are the centerpiece of the song and an excellent hook despite being almost an afterthought to the chorus. And while it’s not a radio staple, this song has clearly been an influence on R&B and hip-hop. It may be one of the earlier uses of the word “gangsta” in a song and the phrase “diggin’ the scene” has also made its way into the lexicon, notably on TLC’s “Creep.”

4. The Bee Gees — “Mr. Natural”
Chart peak: #93, March 23, 1974

This is my one cheat for this mix, as “Mr. Natural” is a song that I’ve grown to love in the past year. However, it barely squeaked into the Hot 100 and the only reason I know it is because I fell in love with The Bee Gees and decided to actively listen to all their albums. I’ve never heard it in the wild. 1974 was really The Bee Gees’ forgotten year, coming right before their transition to disco superstars. But “Mr. Natural” and its eponymous album are fantastic and deserve to be more well-known. I’ve already covered this topic extensively on my blog, so let me just sum it up here: hooks, melody, harmony, pop perfection.

5. Joni Mitchell — “Free Man in Paris”
Chart peak: #22, September 28, 1974

“Free Man in Paris” was Joni Mitchell’s second biggest chart hit, even bigger than “Big Yellow Taxi.” It just goes to show that sometimes the charts are a bad predictor of which songs make the jump to mass culture. This one was a grower for me, but after two or three listens, I found myself really enjoying the melody of the chorus, particularly the “star-maker machinery” line. It’s beautifully produced by Mitchell herself, with lots of clear, bright instrumentation and subtle backing vocals by David Crosby and Graham Nash. I like how the male perspective (based on her friend David Geffen) breaks down the expectation that a first-person song necessarily has to express the direct experiences of the singer.

6. Golden Earring — “Candy’s Going Bad”
Chart peak: #91, November 2, 1974

I struggled to include rock music on this mix, and “Candy’s Going Bad” was the only song that made the cut. My theory is that a pro-rock bias has resulted in almost every good rock song of 1974 being fairly well-remembered today, leaving mainly the dregs as potential lost classics. Golden Earring are actually pretty good English lyricists for being Dutch. Individual phrases like “champagne desert” or “the studs and mares of the night” conjure a seedy alternate reality. The instrumental outro is intriguingly moody.

7. Tom T. Hall — “I Love”
Chart peak: #12, March 2, 1974

I challenge you to listen to this song all the way through without smiling. Go on, try it. If you’re not grinning like an idiot by the time you get to “little fuzzy pups,” you might want to take a serious look at your ability to enjoy life. Actually, “I Love” is deceptively good lyrically, ostensibly sung from the perspective of some kind of simpleton, but employing a perfectly balanced mix of country life, cute animals, non-sequiturs (“onions”??), and a few more adult pleasures (“bourbon in a glass and grass,” a line that was actually censored). Musically the strings are a bit schmaltzy, but overall an enjoyable and unique song.

8. Eddie Kendricks — “Son of Sagittarius”
Chart peak: #28, June 15, 1974

Kendricks, one of the original Temptations, was known for his falsetto, and it’s a great one, especially in conjunction with the backing vocalists. Good songwriting here too, by dark horse Motown player Frank Wilson and a couple others. The minor key and planetary/astrological references give it an air of mystery.

9. Seals and Crofts — “King of Nothing”
Chart peak: #60, June 22, 1974

“King of Nothing” starts out as an jangly, acoustic pop ditty, but has a surprising build around the midpoint with the horn arrangement taking on depth and some nice key changes, too. The trumpet is superb throughout. I also find the lyrics really relatable. I think it’s easy as a young person to assume your life will naturally develop into something incredible, only to come to terms with your relative ordinariness as you get a bit older. The switch from minor to major key between the verse and chorus suggests there can be a joy and freedom that comes with this realization.

10. Barbra Streisand — “All in Love is Fair”
Chart peak: #63, April 20, 1974

You have to give ’74 Babs some credit for song choice. (Seriously, you need to hear her version of Bowie’s “Life on Mars?” recorded later that same year, but unfortunately not a hit.) This Stevie Wonder ballad is great any way you slice it, and Streisand adds her trademark melodrama and vocal flourishes. There’s a certain iciness to the vocal that’s not inappropriate for the subject matter, but it does make me miss the warmth of the original just a little.

11. Lamont Dozier — “Fish Ain’t Bitin’”
Chart peak: #26, July 27, 1974

One-third of the legendary Holland-Dozier-Holland Motown songwriting team, Lamont Dozier had some solo chart success in the mid-70s. “Fish Ain’t Bitin’” is explicitly political, addressing itself directly to “Tricky Dick,” but it still has plenty of hooks and a great arrangement with lots of pre-disco strings.

12. Jerry Reed — “Crude Oil Blues”
Chart peak: #91, March 9, 1974

Along with Nixon resigning, the energy crisis was one of the major national news stories of 1974. It had a surprising impact on the charts, with three energy-crisis themed songs making the Hot 100. “The Crude Oil Blues” is probably the best of them. It’s undeniably silly, but catchy and good-humored. And as someone who hates being cold, I respond deeply to the line “Honey, when you’re cold, you’re cold.”

13. The Main Ingredient — “California My Way”
Chart peak #75, November 30, 1974

This song has so many brilliant little flourishes in the interplay between the main vocalist and back-up singers. Among the best ones: the low and high “yeahs” on the line “I’ve got my bags packed, yeah (yeah),” the whoa-oh after “any day”/“right away,” and the comic “Hollywoooood.” Another stellar trumpet line here too. There’s an earlier recording of this song by the Fifth Dimension provides a useful counterpoint to illustrate just how cool and smooth this version really is.

14. The Wombles — “Wombling Summer Party”
Chart peak #55, August 31, 1974

It’s a good thing “Wombling Summer Party” is fun and catchy, because it would have been very hard for me not to include it. For some reason, I cannot seem to avoid the Wombles in my life. I first became aware of them through a WFMU-produced DVD of bubblegum performances on ’70s variety shows. Then, I became obsessed with a car in my neighborhood with a “Wombles” license plate. Then, I traveled to England and ended up at an AFC Wimbledon football match — their mascot is a Womble! For Americans, The Wombles are British children’s book characters. They are mole-like creatures that live on Wimbledon common and clean up trash and recycle it. In the ’70s, they got translated into a bubblegum group, churning out decently well-crafted Womble-themed songs. This one is a straight-up Beach Boys pastiche, impressive for its ability use the word “Womble” in nearly every line.

15. First Choice — “The Player”
Chart peak: #70, October 19 1974

First Choice was turning out fully-formed disco throughout 1974. It’s a shame they were a little early, because they represent the genre at it’s best: powerhouse vocals, extravagant horn and string arrangements, plenty of hi-hat.

16. The Isley Brothers — “What It Comes Down To”
Chart peak: #55, March 2, 1974

It’s instructive that my favorite soul group, The Isley Brothers, made a cottage industry out of recording transformative  covers of soft-rock hits in early ’70s. Their music takes some of the melody and lightness of the Laurel Canyon sound and marries it to rhythm, dynamic vocals, and the extraordinary, burbling guitar sound of Ernie Isley. This lesser-known original ticks all the same boxes. I especially love how Ronald Isley’s vocal on the affected low notes (“I got moi-ine”) picks up something of the tone of the guitar.