THE DISCOLICIOUS SOUNDS OF THE ’70S

THE FORMATIVE YEARS PART II

Hello all! Once again, my compulsion to show off has taken me way off-track and now I’m collating from an unmanageable mess. As much as I’d like to relate everything I think I know about the 1970s music scene, to try and do so in a single article is simply insane. There’s just simply too darned much ground to cover; metal, prog, and punk will just have to wait*. So, join me now as I reminisce about childhood experiences with the sounds of the ’70s.

* They didn’t enter my life until much, much later anyway.

TV RERUNS in the ’70S

Looking back, one of the things I most appreciate about being a ’70s kid is the variety of programming on TV. And I watched a lot of TV. Yes, outlets were limited, but the bewildering array of sounds and images they broadcast roughly spanned the history of modern music and cinema (1930-1980).

THE CLASSICS

I recall watching a multitude of classic theatrical shorts and full-lengths that dated back to my parent’s youth. On the occasions when I thought to turn on the TV after Mom and Dad’s Friday bowling nights, I caught rough-cut glimpses of Laurel & Hardy and the Three Stooges. Little Rascals/Our Gang and Abbott & Costello movies ran on Sunday mornings before church. Every once in a while, when I was really lucky, I managed to find a Marx Brothers movie.

Vintage black and white Hollywood musicals starring Shirley Temple, the Andrews Sisters, and Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers helped me gain an appreciation for big band jazz orchestras. Old animated Disney cartoons like Snow White, Pinocchio, and Dumbo were always as much fun to hear as they were to watch. Mom and Dad both especially enjoyed color-era MGM musicals like Singin’ in the Rain. The Wizard of Oz was an annual family tradition on-par with Rankin & Bass holiday specials.

MY LIFE IN RERUNS

And then, course, we have the countless hours of old TV reruns I effortlessly absorbed on a daily basis. ’50s situation comedies like I Love Lucy and Leave It to Beaver were ritual afternoon viewing. Family adventure dramas like Davey Crockett and Lassie still aired frequently. The Adventures of Superman and the Lone Ranger reinforced my early interest in costumed heroes.

More than anything, I was exceptionally struck by reruns from the ’60s and early ’70s. Innovative and sometimes daffy sitcoms from that period gave viewers curious scenarios that ranged from talking horses (Mr. Ed) to bumbling super-spies (Get Smart) to WW II POWs (Hogan’s Heroes). Most commonly, however, programmers played with fish-out-of-water scenarios, from displaced city dwellers in humble rural settings (Green Acres) to desert island castaways (Gilligan’s Island). Societal norms/hypocrisies were satirized by high-fantasy comedies like the Munsters, Addams Family, and Bewitched. Some quietly progressive shows (Andy Griffith Show; Brady Bunch; Family Affair) centered around non-traditional families.

MONKEYING AROUND

Few ’60s sitcoms commanded my attention, though, like the Monkees. Equal parts music variety show and surrealistic meta situation comedy, it played like A Hard Days Night meets Monty Python.* The music was catchy and memorable. The lighting-round pace and self-referential bent of the jokes, both visual and narrative, were unbelievable. The quick-quippy chemistry of it’s principal performers – Mickey Dolenz, Davey Jones, Mike Nesmith, and Peter Took – was unlike anything TV would see again until Community arrived in the ’00s. That’s how far ahead of the game they were. How can a scripted show feel so spontaneous? I don’t know, but they nailed it.

* I can’t be the first one to draw that analogy.

CARTOONS AND ADVENTURE SHOWS

Being that I was kid born into the golden age of Saturday Morning Cartoons, animated fare was unsurprisingly consumed by the pound. Streaming didn’t exist yet, but, believe me, I didn’t go wanting… Compilations of classic Popeye, Bugs Bunny, Woody Woodpecker, and Chilly Willy theatrical shorts aired 7-days a week. Weekday afternoons overflowed with repeats of Marvel Super Heroes, Flintstones, Yogi Bear, and Bullwinkle cartoons.

’60s reruns also included a ton of cool sci-fi/action programming to stimulate young imaginations. The Twilight Zone presented twisted morality tales. Lost In Space and Star Trek adventured into uncharted (and often unfriendly) outer space. The colorful live-action Batman program provided an exciting introduction to the caped crusading comics legend. 

MODERN VIEWING

And, of course, I watched tons of contemporary programming. Some of my earliest memories of the ’70 involve morning kids shows like Captain Kangaroo, Romper Room, and Mr. Dressup. PBS fare figured prominently (Sesame Street; Electric Company; Mister Rogers; National Geographic). Saturday mornings meant copious quantities of Hanna Barbara cartoons, Krofft productions, the Bugs Bunny/Roadrunner Show, and Fat Albert. Bi-annual Planet of the Apes and Godzilla weeks were an afternoon movie tradition of our local ABC affiliate. In the late ’70s, live-action superheroes (Six Million Dollar Man; Wonder Woman; Incredible Hulk) and space adventures (Battlestar Galactica; Buck Rogers) kept me engaged during prime-time hours.

Good grief! I remember game shows (Bowling for Dollars; Price is Right; Gong Show). Pesky sportsball events (Monday Night Baseball/Football; Wide World of Sports) frequently played in the background. Reruns of ’70s adult comedies like Sanford & Son and Rhoda ran during the daytime hours when, I guess, all impressionable youth were assumed to be in school or otherwise engaged in, you know – anything else.

After bedtime, I remember listening-in on my parent’s viewing choices – shows like M.A.S.H., Three’s Company, Rockford Files, All in the Family, and Taxi. When ABC aired James Bond flicks I usually managed to stick around the living room long enough to eat some popcorn and catch the pre-credits action sequence before being toted off to bed. Yeah, like I said, I watched a lot of TV (sigh).

NOSTALGIA FOR A TIME THAT NEVER EXISTED

The great American hangover that followed the civil rights movement & Vietnam War was often reflected in ‘the’70s media. Many films (All the President’s Men; Deer Hunter; Network) mirrored the citizenry’s growing disillusionment toward once hallowed institutions. Shows like the White Shadow, Good Times, Maude, One Day at a Time, and Diff’rent Strokes considered changing attitudes toward “traditional” societal norms. But all not all media of the day was bent of reminding us how screwed up we were. Some ’70s media merchants, hoping to restore our collective (false) sense of security, trended toward blind nostalgia and “pure” entertainment.

ROCK REDUX

One example of how the entertainment industry romanticized the past is the emergence of rock oldies radio. How do you make people feel good? Play music that reminds them of the time before things went all to hell. You know – the “good ol’ days.”

Too young to really have an awareness of why vintage rock was “in” again, I just enjoyed the ride. Thanks to this trend, I grew up listening to rock’s first superstars (Chuck Berry, Elvis, Buddy Holly, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Smokey Robinson) alongside the American rock bands (Beach Boys; Byrds; Simon & Garfunkel), soul acts (Marvin Gaye; Supremes; Four Tops), and British Invasion bands (Beatles; Rolling Stones; Kinks) that immediately followed them. No complaints here.

GET NOSTALGIC

The nostalgia paradigm is also evident the way contemporary artists persistently referenced past music eras in their work. In keeping with the rock and roll revival, many artists (ELO; Elton John; Billy Joel; Bay City Rollers) mined early rock heroes and styles for inspiration. Don McClean’s “American Pie” – arguably the most nostalgic song of the rock era – famously lamented “the day the music died.”

Other modern artists, betraying much broader influences, called back to earlier popular 20th century forms to inform their work. Harry Nilsson frequently channelled classic Tin Pan Alley songwriters (“1941“). Bette Midler’s cover of the Andrews Sisters’ “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” and Stevie Wonder’s tribute to “Sir Duke” exhibited the respective singers fondness for vintage big band jazz orchestras.

NOSTALGIA AT THE MOVIES

Period pieces are nothing unusual in Cinema. Here are some top examples of how nostalgia films played in the 1970s.

Redford’s Romanticizing

Two Robert Redford period pics made waves on the record charts in the early ’70s. First up, the depression-era caper film The Sting reunited Redford with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid co-star Paul Newman. The soundtrack peaked at #1 in four countries while re-popularizing Scott Joplin’s 1902 piano rag “The Entertainer.”

The second film, The Way We Were is a sociopolitical romantic drama set between 1937 and 1959. Topping all accolades garnered by the film, the title track earned composer Marvin Hamlisch an Oscar for best song and scored Barbara Streisand her first #1 pop single. Op! I almost forgot. Streisand also won the Oscar for Best Actress for her performance in the film.

REMEMBER WHEN ROCK WAS YOUNG

George Lucas’ American Graffiti boasted a killer 4-sided official soundtrack loaded with hits spanning rock’s first ten years.

In a similar vein, John Landis’ raucous 1960s college romp Animal House featured many well-known r&b and garage tracks from the late ’50s-early ’60s (“Shout”; “Louie Louie”).

LET’S DO THE TIME WARP

Subversive naughty-campy cult glam musical comedy Rocky Horror Picture Show is a wild ride. Stitched together from a shopping list of ’50s nostalgia tropes, the movie satirized traditionalist America’s vain pining for simpler days, old-time rock ‘n’ roll, b-grade science fiction movies, and much more.

Grease Is the Word

Grease, starring John Travolta, completed leading lady Olivia Newton-John’s transition from pop-country singer to full-blown mainstream pop superstar. Set in the late ’50s, the “flipped”* re-imagining of Taming of the Shrew features a title song performed by Frankie Valli, a cameo from former teen idol Frankie Avalon, a lengthy appearance by Sha Na Na, and enough ’50s inflected hooks fill a high school gym. …Or a drag strip… Oh, forget it…

* The “good girl” must turn “bad” to get her guy. Real nice.

jailhouse rock

My personal favorite is 1980s The Blues Brothers (another John Landis entry), starring John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd. Absolutely packed with classic ’60s r&b/soul standards and covers, the comedy romp also features a who’s who of jazz/blues/soul royalty (Cab Calloway; James Brown; Aretha Franklin; Ray Charles; STAX/Booker T. & the MGs Steve Cropper and Donald “Duck” Dunn). An absolute classic!

NOSTALGIA ON THE TUBE

A lot of shows on television in the 1970s, new and old, looked backward. Westerns – a staple of network television since the very beginning remained popular in reruns. Holdovers from the ’50s, like Bonanza and Gunsmoke, ran uninterrupted until the early ’70s and then lived on in syndication. What I remember best from that period are reruns of programs that worked modern culture’s more recent interest in science fiction (Wild Wild West) and martial arts (Kung-Fu) into the standard western premise.

Old-fashioned contemporary programs like Little House on the Prairie and Grizzly Adams romanticized frontier/pioneer America. The Waltons reflected on working-class family life during the Great Depression. Wonder Woman’s first season positioned the Amazonian princess in WW II as part of the allied forces efforts to stop Hitler.

Beloved long-lived Korean war dramedy M.A.S.H. mutated the darker, subversive traits of the film that inspired it into a more family-friendly platform for moralizing the physical and psychological hazards of life. Also, in stretching a four-year conflict to eleven, it engaged in a lot of revisionist history. For example – I don’t care if the actors didn’t want to look “square” – professional men, let alone those in the military, did not wear long hair, let alone scruffy mustaches, in the early 1950s.

AYYYYYYYY!

Happy Days was the most influential of all the nostalgic 1970s television shows. Premiering on the heels of American Graffiti and set during the heyday of sock hops, soda fountains, hot rods, and poodle skirts, the show fed the decade’s ’50s craze; complimenting the rise of rock oldies radio and, consequently, helping to extend the rock and roll revival.

Henry Winkler’s Fonzie – originally a background character – became a pop culture icon. Popular character catchphrases became part of the national vernacular (“Sit on it“; “Ayyyyy“). Hoping to repeat Happy Days‘ massive success, ABC used the show to spawn numerous spin-offs. Some of these projects worked (Laverne & Shirley; Mork & Mindy); some not so much (Blansky’s Beauties; Joanie Loves Chachi). Many episodes included musical numbers performed by regular cast members & guests (Frankie Avalon; Suzi Quatro).  

Unfortunately, as is very common with programs that outlast their creative peak, Happy Days “jumped the shark” about 3/4 the way through its run. Although the show remained extremely popular as the seasons piled up, it struggled to maintain authenticity. Where it at least once attempted to present a reasonable, if stylized, facsimile of suburban middle-America in the mid-late ’50s, quality control issues led to increasing reliance on gimmicky storytelling devices, the shedding of original cast members, and lax continuity. The clash of contemporary fashions, hairstyles and social content against the show’s time period was just too much. Throw in some f-bombs and moments of random extreme violence and you have a Quentin Tarantino movie.

Nostalgia in Contempoarary Settings

Some shows set in the then-present day romanticized the past as a contrast against the always forward-moving realities of life. Archie Bunker – the eternally frustrated patriarch from All in the Family – vocally opposed the changing times (“Those Were the Days”). The good ol’ boys from Dukes of Hazzard sentimentalized the past by naming their car “General Lee” and painting a Confederate flag on top of the cab.

THAT’S PURE ENTERTAINMENT

Beyond the opaque nostalgia that saturated American media in the ’70s, further evidence confirming the entertainment industry’s move toward pure escapism can be found in a preponderance of TV variety programs that aired during my childhood. I still don’t know why the medium achieved peak popularity at the time. Was it due to honest demand or because it accounted for (seemingly) 2/3 of all available viewing options. No matter. The wide range of programming offered something of interest for all ages and proclivities.

TALK TALK

Before sensationalized shock-talk/reality formats staged a hostile takeover* of daytime TV in the ’80s and ’90s, homemakers (and their non-school aged kids) filled rare gaps in their afternoons with soaps and talk-variety programs.

As is still the case today, the Tonight Show aired late at night, so I have few solid recollections of Johnny Carson in the ’70s. Likewise, Dick Cavett changed networks and time slots often – mostly in the late evening hours. Therefore, my first meaningful experiences with variety/talk formats came via popular, mild-mannered daytime hosts (Mike Douglas; Dinah Shore; Merv Griffin). Like their late-night counterparts, daytime talk shows mixed interview segments and live performances with varying degrees of social commentary and humor. Viewers never knew who would turn up!

* Thank you Phil Donahue.

THANKS FOR THE ’70s MEMORIES

Still very much rooted in vaudevillian tradition, straight variety show formats balanced comedy bits with performance segments. Like a lot of programming in the ’70s, the overall quality of these shows fluctuated wildly. Suffice to say, the odds were good that anyone experiencing their “15 minutes” at any point in that decade had a time slot waiting.

Program frequency ranged between one-offs, annuals, bi-monthly, and series. Squeaky-clean MOR entertainment institutions like Bing Crosby, Perry Como, and Andy Williams typically hosted annual Christmas specials. Actor-crooner holdovers from old Hollywood (Dean Martin Show) and former hippies-done-good (Sonny & Cher Comedy Hour) occasionally enjoyed a good run. Regular spots were afforded to comedians who played to broad demographics (Flip Wilson; Paul Lynde). Averaging just under 6 shows annually over a 47-year span, the undisputed king of the variety special – hallowed comedic actor Bob Hope – hosted 272 specials for NBC between 1950 – 1996.

Primarily, though, viewers were just trampled under by a parade of kitschy/schmaltzy, mostly short-lived vehicles for amiable flavors of the day (Tony Orlando & Dawn; Donny & Marie; Captain & Tenille; Sha Na Na).

AND OUR VERY SPECIAL GUESTS

In all the above scenarios, hosts and musical guests alike were generally sexy, if unthreatening, contemporary figures like Olivia Newton-John and Andy Gibb. Veterans of big band pop tradition (Frank Sinatra; Sammy Davis Jr.) turned up frequently. Execs also loved to lean on big names from the golden age of television (Groucho Marx; Milton Berle; George Burns).

In-line with the ’50s revival, early rock acts, such as Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry, were sometimes deployed to play their hits. However, as I said before, the overwhelming proportion of music figures conscripted were safe choices. As such, musical guests with 1950s roots were typically former teen idols (Paul Anka), pop country sweethearts (Teresa Brewer), and lightweight r&b singers (Chubby Checker) who appealed to (white) conservative, middle-aged, middle-Americans.

Ah one, and ah two, and ah…

Popular live-music-based variety programs of the ’70s seldom entered my sphere. Of course, exceptions occurred, but generally only when I happened to be playing in the living room when they happened to be on. To folks with an ear for saccharine melodies who were born before, or in close proximity-to, World War II (like Mom and Dad; grandparents), the Lawrence Welk Show was their jam. Anyone looking to hear the latest and greatest in rock tuned-in late Friday and Saturday nights to the Midnight Special and Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert.

By all appearances, early Saturday afternoons appear to have been the agreed upon time to broadcast music shows that intermingled “live”performances by contemporary stars with clips of dancing audience members. Dick Clark’s American Bandstand was laughably obvious at times regarding the practice of having bands mime to a backing track. I’m sure this happened on Soul Train as well, but I’ve been watching videos on YouTube; they at least let James Brown strut his stuff in front his fully functioning band the way the “good foot” intended.

sketch comedy

Variety sketch comedy programs have been a fixture in network television since the beginning; jump-starting countless careers along the way. For example, Mel Brooks (Blazing Saddles), Neil Simon (The Odd Couple), Carl Reiner (Oceans 11), Selma Diamond (Night Court), and Imogene Coca (National Lampoon’s Vacation) all worked on Sid Caesar’s Your Show of Shows in the 1950s.

Keeping the tradition well, some ’70s sketch shows proved to be some of the most influential of all variety programs that aired during that time.

SOCK IT TO ME!

Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In (’67 – ’73) launched the careers of future movie stars Goldie Hawn and Lillie Tomlin. Further, the show raised the profile of emcee voice actor Gary Owens (Space Ghost), and boosted the careers of character actors Artie Johnson, Ruth Buzzi, Henry Gibson, Jo Anne Worley, and Richard Dawson.

CBS’ Carol Burnett Show (’67 – ’78) made legitimate stars of TV veterans Burnett (Gary Moore Show), Tim Conway (McHale’s Navy), and Harvey Corman (Blazing Saddles).

Hee Haw (’69 – ’93) introduced Gen X-ers to bluegrass legends Roy Clark and Buck Owen and made “Minnie Pearl” a household name.

The number of careers ignited by Lorne Michael’s Saturday Night Live (1975 – present) and SCTV (’76 – ’84), on the whole, is too long to list here. So I’ll how about I just offer a list of the ones they launched in the 1970s…

SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE (SNL)	SECOND CITY TELEVISION (SCTV)
Dan Ackroyd John Belushi Chevy Chase Jane Curtain Al Franken Garrett Morris Bill Murray Gilda Radner Paul Shaffer	John Candy Joe Flaherty Andrea Martin Rick Moranis Catherine O’Hara Eugene Levy Harold Ramis Martin Short Dave Thomas

And now for something completely different

I very rarely ever saw the BBCs Monty Python’s Flying Circus (’69 – ’74) as a child. To begin with, the show was far too naughty and delightfully weird/random to suit my parents. What’s more, it was only ever on way past my bedtime after it reached the states. So, my fandom grew slowly in the ’80s. First, through glimpses of random reruns captured from PBS in the ’80s. Then, from gradual familiarity with the Pythons that grew from films like A Fish Called Wanda, Time Bandits, Yellowbeard, and Eric the Viking. And then, finally, clinched with my first viewing of Monty Python and Holy Grail. You always know when fellow Python fans are near when the talk of silly walks, dead parrots, and spam begins. Just brilliant!

muppetsational

The Muppet Show – a personal favorite from my childhood – was the absolute best! Yes, I was extremely young during it’s run, and my bias for Jim Henson’s work on Sesame Street surely figures in my high esteem for the show, but it really was that funny. Kids loved it for the colorful characters and sight-gags! Parents loved it for all the subtle adult in-jokes that sailed right over their kids’ heads! And, in contrast to most modern “family friendly” media, Henson did it all without being overtly crass or smugly speaking above or below his audience’s perceived intelligence level.

Muppet characters were all distinct, nuanced and (figuratively) 3-dimensional. Repeated gags always had enough new angles to prompt fresh laughs (and groans). Guest hosts (Rita Moreno; Big Bird; Alice Cooper; Steve Martin; Loretta Lynn; Edgar Bergan) hailed from diverse enough realms of acclaim to appeal to virtually all generations living at the time. …And their house band had the snazziest name ever (Dr. Teeth & the Electric Mayhem). Great stuff!

COUNTRY GOES POP

Another case that exemplifies nostalgia’s grip on ’70s culture was the ever-presence of country-western music entertainers.

As evidenced by countless screen westerns starring singing cowboys, country music has been a significant player in popular culture since at least the ’30. The influence ebbs and flows in the mainstream, but it’s always there. In the 1960s, a number of singers with southern roots who’d enjoyed success in the ’50s pop/rock scene (Teresa Brewer; Brenda Lee; Jerry Lee Lewis) transitioned to careers as straight-up country artists. Interestingly, the move didn’t just bring rock closer to country; it brought country music full-on into the pop mainstream. 

COUNTRY Rock Rising

Right around the same time, the work of ’60s American folk rock icons Bob Dylan, the Byrds, and Grateful Dead also began to explicitly express the country traits that’d always been evident in their music; influencing, in turn, the rising roots rockers that dominated AOR in the ’70s (Allman Brothers; Lynyrd Skynyrd; Eagles).

Pop country Peaks

By the ’70s, pop country entertainers were everywhere. They infiltrated TV (Johnny Cash Show; Glenn Campbell Goodtime Hour; Hee Haw). They acted in films (A Star Is Born; Oh, God!; Smokey & the Bandit). On the pop charts, country icons Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, and Willie Nelson, respectively, scored hits with “The Gambler,” “Here You Come Again,” and “On the Road Again.”

DISCOLICIOUS

Disco – arguably the most influential touchstone of 1970s culture – had already sewn itself into the fabric of the world by the time I was out of diapers. Sure, other significant trends were happening, but almost everything in the mainstream had been seduced. Architecture and décor; fashion; TV & film scores (Kojak; Love Boat; Wonder Woman; Charlie’s Angels; Starsky & Hutch/Car Wash; Dirty Harry; Rocky; Xanadu); popular music… All aspects of life seemed to fall to its sway.

Obviously too young to have partaken in the disreputably decadent ’70s club scene, my impressions of disco culture are principally summed up from what I saw on TV. I remember blinking, Technicolor checkerboard dance floors. All women were pretty, bone-skinny, had long, well groomed hair, and wore blousy strapless dresses. All men were smarmy-looking hyper-macho “players” with helmet hair in wide-open, flared-collared leisure suits (man-perm, gold medallion, pinky ring, & porn ‘stache sold separately). …And mirror balls. My GOD the mirror balls.

WITH DISCO COMES WISDOM. EVENTUALLY

God knows I’m guilty of casting stones from time to time. …Especially when seeing and/or hearing things my brain perceives as utter excrement. But I never understood the vitriol of the Demolition that marked the de facto nadir of disco in mid-’79. Well, ok, I understand some of the hate… When thinking back to the embarrassingly tacky, sequin smothered superficiality of the clothes worn by revered, legacy acts (Elvis; Neil Diamond). But this was the world I was born into.  This was “normal” for the ’70s. Anyway… Whatever all the insecure white dudes in too-tight blue jeans and Led Zeppelin t-shirts choose to believe, it wasn’t all bad.

My folks liked disco music and were very good dancers, but, with four kids to feed, a mortgage, car payments, and so on, they were too busy “adulting” to stay current with all the latest pop culture trends and worry about being “cool.” If anything, they actually appeared to be willfully devoted to being “uncool.” That said, now firmly (if restlessly) ensconced in middle-age myself, I can look back and relate on a number of levels. 1 – I now see that they were comfortable with who they were and knew what they liked. 2 – What they liked tended to be pretty good when viewed through the wide lens of history. And 3 – I too no longer give two (expletives) about being cool. That ship has sailed.

DISCO’FECTS

As I alluded to earlier, disco had been simmering for few years before it caught fire in the U.S c. 1975. Born of a multitude of forms, it pulsed with Latin polyrhythms and grooved like the black “Moses of soul” (Isaac Hayes). It’s lush sound borrowed from Phil Spector’s “Wall of Sound” and the symphonic rock of Electric Light Orchestra. Some soul artists who came to be identified with disco, like Earth, Wind, and Fire, complimented deep-in-the-pocket funk bass and drums with full brass sections and, as an added bonus, dressed like Glam rockers.

Once media moguls realized disco’s commercial potential, it was, of course, exploited (weaponized) to the nth degree. By the late ’70s, its influence was felt everywhere. Disco corrupted pop groups (“Stayin’ Alive“), r&b icons (“Upside Down“). Blues rock institutions (“Miss You“), and art rockers (“Golden Years“). Country acts (“The Devil Went Down to Georgia“), metal collectives (“I Was Made For Lovin’ You“), and new wavers (“Heart of Glass“).

Eventually, disco superstars, like KC & the Sunshine Band, Donna Summer, Chic, and Village People, began to arrive fully formed expressly within that collection of styles. A multitude of one-hit wonders and novelties cluttered the airwaves (“The Hustle,” “Kung-Fu Fighting“; “Disco Duck“). Disco composers adapted well known screen and classical pieces (“Star Wars“; “A Fifth of Beethoven“). Oh yes, things got a little out of hand.

That Crazy Scottsman

My Dad has always been a resolute fan of classic, Sinatra-style big band crooners. As such, his response to flamboyant performers is typically rough; falling into the category of “intolerance punctuated by unflattering expletives.” This being said, he sometimes makes exceptions for colorful showmen like Rod Stewart.

Back in the late ’70…I think we were watching Solid Gold… Out bounds Stewart to sing his sellout disco single “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy.” For those who don’t know or remember what Stewart was like in those days, he was covered in full animal-prints with spiked-hair that went everywhere. He jumped and hollared like his pants were on fire. This was before hair metal. It was a scene, man. Dad usually can’t tolerate rock and rollers, but there he was – laughing and enjoying the show.

To this day, he still brightens up when we reminisce about “that time we saw that crazy Scottsman… On TV… You know…awwwww (shifting modes to scold himself) c’mon Al, what’s his name!?” Good old Dad (smile).

TAKE THOSE NEW RECORDS OFF THE SHELF

As I mentioned earlier, my parents were older and busy “adulting,” so buying new music wasn’t really a high priority. As such, most of the records filed in the family record cabinet dated to ’60s and earlier. Show tunes; big bands; Herb Alpert; classical recordings; kids stuff… That sort of thing. This being the case, most of the then-current pop music I encountered reached my ears through television and radio rather than the family hi-fi. Notable exceptions did occur, however…

Star Wars Original Soundtrack by John Williams, 1977

Although not technically “pop,” this record broke the modern classical/popular music barrier as a consequence of Star Wars‘ overwhelming success. At home, it provided a perfect backdrop for activities. Regardless of whether I was playing, drawing, or simply chilling with the album sleeve, I stayed engaged as it played-through. FYI – “Johnny” Williams also composed the music for another childhood favorite sci-fi epic – Lost In Space. Further, after Star Wars, he went on to score virtually every future film by George Lucas and/or Steven Speilberg. In the end, although Williams’ work didn’t change my preference for rock music, it certainly influenced my receptiveness to prog and “true” orchestral forms.

K-Tel Pure Gold, 1977

This collection from ’70s compilation kings K-Tel harvested hits from 1976, including “Torn Between Two Lovers,“I’m Your Boogie Man,” and “Right Back Where We Started From.” Truth be told, this 2-disc didn’t impact my musical preferences in any immediate way. But I do recall being exceptionally interested in the album sleeve design. Titled in a large, chunky, rounded faux-neon font, the cover featured pics of contemporary popular artists encased in circular graphic borders against against a backdrop of pyramid-stacked gold bricks. It screams “tacky,” I know, but it was the ’70s. Regardless, the impression left by sleeve pics of Heart, ABBA, Hall & Oates, Linda Rondstadt, and Seals & Crofts has lasted four decades.

Barry Manilow Live, 1977.

Barry Manilow owned easy listening radio in the ’70s but, honestly, there isn’t much I can recall that distinguishes this album. I believe it belonged to my oldest sister and remember the cover. Manilow covered most of his hits. I liked it well enough when it played, but the only song that sticks out is its rendition of “Daybreak.” 

Saturday Night Fever Original Movie Soundtrack, 1977

The Saturday Night Fever soundtrack was a fixture on my parent’s turntable in the late ’70s. Thus, absorbed by way of countless repetition, it remains permanently etched into the inner-reaches of my consciousness to this day.

Perfectly distilling the virtues of disco*, Fever collected the best-of-the-best artists working within that style at the time. The Bee Gees – going with their recent rebirth as new-slick-gods-of-the-dance-floor, contributed eight tracks, including “Staying Alive,” “You Should Be Dancing,” and “If I Can’t Have You” – the latter performed by singer-actress Yvonne Elliman. KC & the Sunshine Band, Kool & the Gang, chipped-in songs as well. Interestingly, right around the same time David Shire’s “Night On Disco Mountain” caught my ear, the classical composition it was adapted from – Mussorgsky’s original “A Night on Bald Mountain” – made its way into my consciousness via Disney’s Fantasia. Pretty cool.

Now, regarding the Saturday Night Fever film itself, I agree with my folk’s response of disappointment. But where they were turned off by an unfavorable ratio of bad language vs. dancing and music, I was bored by the shallow story and general absence of likeable, relatable characters. Maybe it plays better to city crowds? I don’t know. Either way, it would’ve likely tanked like so many other disco films if it not for all those glorious tunes.

* Yes, you heard me right – I said “virtues.”

THE MAGIC OF ABBA

ABBA-mania had largely run its course by the time The Magic of ABBA and Super Trooper LPs entered heavy rotation on my parent’s hi-fi in 1980. The anti-disco movement meant nothing within the cultural bubble of my childhood home. Thus, influenced by Mom and Dad’s appreciation for sweet melodies and flowing, danceable rhythms, we enjoyed these records as a family for many years.

However, starting at age 10 (c. ’82-83), my personal preferences began to diverge greatly. My personal journey took me through MTV darlings (Duran Duran), ’70s classic rock/prog (Rush), alternative (Red Hot Chili Peppers), post-punk rock classicists (XTC) and so on. Then, finally, about twenty years ago, I finally came back around again to the favored sounds of my childhood (Beatles). Now, having rediscovered ABBA after several decades of peer-influenced denial, I can admit that their long-term impact has been unquestionable. I get it now. In retrospect, of all the artists stigmatized for lacking substance when the rock “purists” came for everyone’s disco records in ’79, I feel that ABBA deserves a lot better.

ABBA: the Phenomenon

Swedish pop perfectionists ABBA achieved stardom after their Eurovision song winner “Waterloo” swept the globe in 1974. In ’76 they become international pop sensations thanks to the disco inflected hit “Dancing Queen.” Although they never reached the saturation levels in North America that they achieved abroad, I still remember the phenomenon well. Their faces stared at me from posters, magazine racks, t-shirts, toy shelves, binder folders, trading cards boxes. Ads for their concert film, ABBA: the Movie, chased Star Wars promos in newspapers in 1977. New record releases and TV appearances always received maximum hype (Olivia!, ’78; ABBA in Concert, ’80). Being among the first to fully exploit the music video medium, promotional clips for their songs periodically filled gaps in TV programming before the advent of MTV. They were unavoidable.

THIS AIN’T JUST NO DISCO

While generally associated with disco, I observe that ABBA was less a straight dance outfit than a classic girl group-inspired glam/power-pop confection filtered through a “Wall of Sound.” Were they an almost too-varnished-to-be-authentic embodiment of the disco aesthetic? At times they were, of course. Disco didn’t get much more “disco” than the big, driving beats and aural melodrama of “Voulez Vouz.” But then, looking beyond the spectacle, one  witnesses a mannered stage presence more reminiscent of the Lawrence Welk singers than Alicia Bridges or Bony M.

So much more than mere disco poseurs, they specialized in good old-fashioned, hooky melodies, honey-dipped productions, professional playing, and tonally rich/pitch perfect vocal harmonies – all achieved without the benefit of Pro-Tools or Auto-Tune. Benny & Bjorn had to actually write the songs from scratch (no templates). Agnetha & Anni-Frid had to actually sing that well to stay in key. All the musical tracks for mixes had to be laid down by living, breathing, musicians! Imagine that.

listen closely

Further, the range of their music was out of this world! Yes, admittedly, “Take a Chance On Me” was a swinging disco number. But what about the fetching bubblegum pop track “Honey Honey” and the kitschy ’50s-inspired charmer “I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do?” How about the sophisticated new wave inflected “Super Trooper? “Chiquitita“ somehow seamlessly melded tender Spanish balladry to Bavarian Biergarten folk songs. Each tune is memorable and distinctive. Nary a single melodic hook digs or lands the same way. Yet their signature sound remained intact from beginning to end.

That, my friends, is something lesser songwriters/performers simply cannot do. It was certainly beyond the chops of the average, ho-hum, conveyor belt disco act. Look – one doesn’t have to be a #1 superfan in order to find value and give credit where it’s due. By reflexively lumping ABBA in with the Village People, the anti-disco crowd proved that they weren’t listening closely enough to develop informed opinions, much less voice them.

* Ex: Nine #1s – one; favor Germany over U.S. 

LET THERE BE ROCK

As I stated earlier, ’70s hard rock forms were pretty much outside of my childhood experience. Yes, heavy-hitters like Led Zeppelin were part of the cultural zeitgeist, but I don’t remember hearing them during that time. The only acts permitted to break-through from FM AOR to AM pop radio were those our beloved corporate media overlords deemed safe for mass consumption. Therefore, slickly melodic groups (Eagles; Fleetwood Mac) got in and hard rockers (Deep Purple; Black Sabbath) were left out. That said, can you imagine, then, what it must have been like to watch darkly ostentatious heavy-glam-rockers KISS ascend to the highest level of pop culture oversaturation.

KISS was everywhere and their image was everything. They performed on prime time TV variety specials and made movies. They targeted youth via Halloween costumes, lunch boxes, comic books, pin ball machines, trading cards, toys – you name it. It was a mass-media campaign worthy of the Beatles.

In terms of showmanship, only their fellow glam rockers (Bowie; Gary Glitter), Parliament and, maybe, Liberace could compare. But musically, they weren’t doing anything that ground-breaking. Underneath the caked-on black & white horror makeup, black & silver spandex, fake body armor, and (in bassist-vocalist Gene Simmons’ case) silver stilettoed demon-headed boots, KISS were (are), fundamentally, just a straight-forward, if not particularly accomplished, hard rock band. They had some good songs, but probably wouldn’t have blown-up if not for their commitment to marketing the image.

Catching a New Wave

By c. 1979, the musical tastes of my high-school-aged eldest siblings began to diverge. Where my sister leaned toward soft rock (Barry Manilow; Carpenters; Air Supply) and bubble-gum glam acts like Bay City Rollers, my brother shifted attention to the FM dial – meaning too-loud/weird-for-the-parents hard rock and prog. Because we were roommates, my brother’s listening habits became mine. Whatever he plugged into his trusty old portable Panasonic tape player-recorder, I was there to hear it. When he got into Boston, the Who, ELP, ELO, Asia, Yes, and Rush, I got into them as well. Anyway, at one point in the late ’70s/early ’80s, he discovered a new wave favorite – The Cars. 

Good Times Roll

In short order, he acquired their first three cassettes (The Cars; Candy-O; Panorama) – which he played with dogmatic reliability virtually every night at bedtime for what must have been a solid year. Talk about reinforcement. I still remember being called-out by 2nd grade school-mates for incessant finger tapping as “Just What I Needed…” What can I say? The songs continued to play in my head long after the tapes ended (hiss-delay… “click”).

Don’t let the skinny ties fool you. The Cars were never just another fluffy new wave act in puffy shirts and gull-wing hairdos. My brother and I listened to a lot of rock oldies radio in the ’70s; we always knew that their appeal lay in their unique blending of old sounds with the thrill of the new.

Greg Hawks’ synths and Rik Ocasek’s disaffected vocals and may have bubbled and quirked like new wave, but the band’s heavy riffs and melodic hooks betrayed a power-pop-esque affinity for old time rock & roll. Elliot Easton’s tuneful guitar solos were on par with those of Rick Nielsen of Cheap Trick. Many of their songs exhibited these traits, but never better than on the 1981 hit “Shake It Up.” In the mid-’80s, innovative music videos during MTV’s boom years spurred their commercial peak, but those first few albums will always be my favorite.