Poco: Rose of Cimarron; a timeless classic

 

Rose of Cimarron is the most well-known song of the American Country rock band Poco. Their name means ‘little’ in Spanish and in some ways is all too apt. Their contemporaries The Eagles outgrew their mentor Linda Ronstadt and their inspiration Jackson Browne to eventually bestride the world as Rock Megastars. In this shade, Poco struggled for sunlight and exposure, despite the pedigree they sprang from. Lead singer Richie Furay and Bassist Randy Meissner had been in Buffalo Springfield along with Stephen Stills and Neil Young. These two joined up with Graham Nash and David Crosby to form a ‘supergroup’.

 Graham Nash had recently left the Hollies and Crosby the Byrds; their sound with Stills and Young produced some wonderful harmonies. Furay brought that love of harmonic singing into Poco and the Eagles embraced it too. Meissner left Poco for the Eagles and later so did Timothy B Schmidt. Both the Eagles and Poco were guitar bands that branded themselves using images from the Midwest of America; The animal skull on the Eagles Album covers and the Hacienda look of the building on Rose of Cimarron album cover both evoke that cowboy vibe which was a dominating motif of 1970’s culture.

 The band’s most successful album Crazy Eyes, had reached #38 on the American Billboard chart; by contrast the  Rose of Cimarron album only made #89. But in the UK, the title track Rose of Cimarron remains a popular song on AOR radio stations and, after 43 years has attained classic status. I believe this is because although it is a genre song, it has elements that transcend that narrow definition. Also, it has an undefinable feel to it that moves the soul; it is the sort of song that unconsciously demands an emotional response.

 So let’s take a look at it’s constituent parts:

 Rose of Cimarron begins with a sure rhythm that to me evokes a gently cantering horse, it moves you along. The lyrics reinforce this: 

‘roll along, roll on, dusty days are gone, Rose of Cimarron’.

 The lyrics tell a story; of Rose Dunn, who became romantically involved with an outlaw, George Newcomb. So the story goes, she kept house for him and provided domestic comforts for his gang when they returned from their raids:

 

‘Trails that brought them home, echo names they’ve known, Four days high and lonely, comin’ to you only’

 The song pays tribute to the importance they attached to having a female influence in their lives:

‘you’re the one they turned to, the only one they knew

Who’d do all her best to be around, when the chips were down’

 But the song really takes wing after the basic story has been told. The vocalist hums along to the rhythm a while until the guitar solo kicks in; a liquid sound with just a hint of aggression that moves up the register before sliding down again to introduce Timothy B Schmidt’s soaring falsetto:

 ‘Hearts like yours belong, following the dawn,

Wrapped up in a song, Rose of Cimarron’

 As he sings you hear equally soaring violins keeping him company and after the abrupt guitar break and ringing piano that slows the song right down they are joined by counterpointing cellos. As these slowly fade away the piano keeps the song going and just as you think it has nothing else to give a banjo joins in, providing a rippling coda until the fadeout.

By the time the last note has played the song is into it’s seventh minute. When it finally finishes the listener is left emotionally satisfied. You may find yourself blinking back a tear at this point, for no reason you can pinpoint. Perhaps you should listen to the songwriter, band member Rusty Young, the one constant member of the band over the years:

 

‘I love everything about that song, from the very visual lyrics to the beautiful melody’

 Rose of Cimarron is one of those songs that, whilst being of its time and genre, somehow transcends both to become a piece of musical magic. Give it a listen and see if it tugs at your heartstrings too:

 Rose of Cimarron

 

 

1972-1976; The Golden Age of Christmas songs?

 

The Golden Age of the Christmas Single

The Christmas single has a long and chequered history; including some of the best, and worst, recordings ever released. Semi-religious offerings rub shoulders with lewd bad taste songs and megastars and one-hit wonders jostle for position. Of the songs that retain their position on the playlists, some go back a long, long way; I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa, It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas and of course White Christmas date from the 1950’s, whilst 1960’s artists such as the Ronettes and the Beach Boys successfully released Christmas offerings. Elvis Presley released entire albums of Christmas songs, which were enhanced by his voice and his ability to project sentimentality with absolute sincerity. Perhaps only Michael Buble has done as well since.

But in recent years, certainly since the millennium, the quality, if not the quantity, has definitely fallen off. The hi-jacking of the Christmas number one slot by the X-Factor winners contributed to this. Why even attempt to compete with that juggernaut? But possibly today’s artists are finding that coming up with a Christmas hit is harder than it looks. In 2017 Sia only managed to reach no 39 on the chart with Santa is coming for us, whilst Arianna Grande only reached 29 with Santa tell me in 2014.

What makes a great Christmas song? The status of the artist is no guarantee; Its Christmas (baby please come home) is on very few Youtube playlists. Do you even recall that the artists are U2? Similarly Santa Claus Is Coming To Town is on few people’s lists of favourite Bruce Springsteen songs. You can identify some musical commonplaces; sleigh bells, an uptempo beat, a catchy chorus. Lyrically, songs that evoke the atmosphere and anticipation of Christmas have a lasting appeal, but there is a strong sub-genre of sad Christmas songs that bemoan the absence of a lost love. Blue Christmas, Last Christmas, Lonely this Christmas all represent this group.

So rather than waste time trying to define the undefinable (no sure-fire song-writing formula would ever come up with a song that starts: “it was Christmas Eve babe, in the drunk tank) I want to celebrate the classics that burst forth, like Athena from the head of Zeus, in the period 1972 to 1976. Why these years? Well, I was eleven in ’72 and fifteen in ’76, so you can argue those are the years of peak susceptibility to these songs. But they are also the years that brought some of the most enduring perennials that still, nigh on fifty years on, are still played, sung and drunkenly danced to. So here goes.

1972
We start with the first Christmas song I ever bought; Happy Christmas (war is over) by John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Reaching number 4 in December ’72, this song complements Imagine as an exemplar of John and Yoko’s world view. Superficially listened to it can seem rather trite, Merry, Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year/Let’s hope it’s a good one, without any fear. Simply platitudes, sneered some. But even at the age of eleven, I heard it differently. To me, Lennon was saying look, war won’t be over, but we need to live in hope, because without hope we are lost. Of course, he wrapped this message up with Christmas Bells and a children’s choir to sing the catchy chorus. But is must have something, because today’s teenagers can sing along to this song.

1972 also gave us Gaudete by Steeleye Span. Sung in Latin by a folk group, it may seem an unlikely Christmas hit, but it is typical of the eclectic nature of the charts in the 1970’s that there was a place for it. The olde English male folk harmonies married perfectly with the ethereal purity of lead singer Maddy Prior’s voice to make a wonderful sound that referenced the message of Christmas: Christus es natus, ex maria virginae Gaudete (Christ is born of Mary the virgin, worship him).

1973

Next is Slade; Merry Xmas Everybody (a.k.a Noddy Holder’s pension plan) which dominated the chart of 1973. This is the quintesssential rowdy sing-along which, more than any other, encapsulates our experience of the British family Christmas: Does your granny always tell you that the old songs are the best, then she’s up and rock and rolling with the rest?

There’s no mystery to this song, it is quite simply joyous, from the first line; Are you hanging up your stockings on the wall? The clever hint of naughtiness; what will your daddy do when he sees your mummy kissing santa? to that genius band reference; do you ride on down the hillside in a buggy you have made/when you land upon your head then you’ve been Slade.

And best of all, even those of us, like me, who can’t sing a note, can shout along to this. On this song, the band are in your living room, having Christmas alongside you. It’s quite simply irresistible!

From the same year comes Wizzard’s contribution. Like ELO’s Jeff Lynn, Roy Wood came out of the Move, and always wanted to be a chart act. They had other hits (Ball Park Incident is fabulous) but I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day is the song they are remembered for. Like Lennon, it employs bells and a kids choir, all rolled up with the bands signature saxophone breaks. When the Snowman brings the snow- bang, you’re there; winter, Christmas, fantasy. The chorus is slightly more musical than Slade’s and when the kids come in with it at the end it just finishes you off. A classic indeed.

Also released for the first time in this year was Step into Christmas, by Elton John. It did better chart wise in subsequent years; but is a golden era example of an A list artist getting it right by putting just as much effort into it as any other song. We can watch the snow fall, for ever and ever…. What’s not to love?

1974

Moving on a year we have Mud, with Lonely This Christmas, their homage to Elvis. As already discussed, there is a place for the sad song at Christmas; It’ll be lonely this Christmas, without you to hold, and Les Gray milks it for all it’s worth, even down to the Elvis style spoken words; Merry Christmas darling, wherever you are. Number one for four weeks, it shares with Slade and Wizzard Top of the Pops appearances looking ridiculous, in Mud’s case wearing Christmas tree baubles as earrings. One to fall back on when your love life’s gone south, it remains a favourite. Speaking of 1974, an honourable mention here for Showaddywaddy’s Mr Christmas by the way.

1975

By 1975 we’d moved on from Glam Rock but the Christmas songs just kept on coming. Chris De Burgh, known for off the wall songs like Spanish Train, whose protagonist plays cards with the devil, released A Spaceman came Travelling, which riffed on the was God an alien idea popularised at that time by Erik Von Daniken. A gentle, reflective song, it represents it’s year very well. With a nah, nah, nah, nah chorus, it retained some singability too. The same year also gave us Mike Oldfield’s In Dulce Jubilo, an instrumental that throws the sink at us bells wise and is instantly hummable. It simply yells Christmas and has a jaunty tune that makes you feel good.

1976

And so to 1976. At the end of our period we have Johnny Mathis, the heir to the likes of Bing Crosby and Perry Como, with When a Child is Born, reminding us that Christmas is at heart a religious festival. Mathis pulls off the spoken section at least as well as Les Gray and you’d have to have a heart of stone not to feel a warm glow after listening to him deliver this.

So for me, these years are the golden age of Christmas songs, when you could be sure each Christmas would throw up a new classic. These songs have stood the test of time because we entwine with the memories of Christmas past, but also because, for whatever reason, the muse of Christmas music was hanging around street corners, in the Black Country and other places, just waiting to inspire any artist she could.

There have been great ones since; Wham, Mariah Carey, the Pogues. But somehow, if you asked people to name a top ten, Slade Wizzard and John Lennon, it’s a fairly safe bet, would be in there. 

Links:

Happy Christmas (War is over)

Gaudete: Steeleye Span

A Spaceman came travelling

In Dulce Jubilo

(You don't need a link to Slade and Wizzard!)

1975; a year in Rock Albums

 

In my previous post I looked at the chart singles of 1975. I acknowledged that there was a lightweight component to the hits of that year. This was in part a product of the fact that the dominant form at this point was not the single but the album. When you look at 1975 from an album perspective there is no room for doubt; it was a vintage musical year. Just take a look at these artists and albums; Bruce Springsteen- Born to Run, Bob Dylan- Blood on the Tracks, 10cc- Original Soundtrack, Elton John- Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboys, Queen- Night at the Opera, Joan Baez, Diamonds and Dust, Rush- Fly by Night, The Eagles- One of These Nights, Pink Floyd- Wish You Were Here, Led Zeppelin- Physical Graffitti, Patti Smith- Horses, David Bowie- Young Americans, Parliament- Mothership Connection and Paul Simon- Still crazy after all these years.

What that list has in common with the singles successes is diversity and eclecticism. Folk, Heavy Metal, Funk, Country Rock, Progressive music, Philly style soul and, in Springsteen and 10cc, music that defied obvious pigeon-holing.

With these, as well as other albums and artists, there are a number of themes emerging, including a willingness to experiment and artistic self-confidence.

Experimentation

We are all familiar with the chameleon like nature of David Bowie’s image and music. Even so, Young Americans was an abrupt hand-brake turn from the hard rock of Diamond Dogs and before that Ziggy Stardust. It sprang from Bowie’s discovery of the Disco scene, which he described as the folk music of the great cities, welling up from the streets rather than imposed from above. It bears a relationship to Parliaments Mothership Connection, a weighty slab of industrial funk powered by George Clinton, with bass, horns and syncopated drums up in the mix.

Surprisingly, Bowie was not the only established act to be influenced by funk. Led Zeppelin’s offering for this year was Physical Grafitti. It includes Kashmir, cited by band members as the archetypical Zeppelin song, which bears the influence of Arab music. But also on Grafitti is Trampled Underfoot, which is powered by a driving funk rhythm, all springy bass and supple guitar licks. It is all a long way from the pure Blues wail of You Shook me or Dazed and Confused.

Experimentation of a different kind can be heard on Original Soundtrack. 10cc had built themselves a solid following through a series of hit singles, ranging from sixties pastiche (Oh Donna) semi-humorous storytelling (Rubber Bullets, the Dean and I) to conventional rock (Wall street shuffle). With Original Soundtrack they were playing with a number of ideas, one of which was the concept album. As the title suggests, film history was on their minds, especially Film Noir. ‘one night in Paris, is like a year in any other place’ these lyrics were allied to subtle musical tones that harked back to the past.

Also on the album was a song that transcended anything the band had done before; I’m not in Love. This song, with its lush production, including a string section, marked their emergence as mature talents. The lyricism on this song is remarkable. The narrator makes a series of statements claiming that he doesn’t have any feelings for the object of his attention, which cumulatively build up to leave the listener in doubt that, actually, he is head over heels in love with her. Like the best songs, it doesn’t belong to the era it was made in, but is timeless, never going out of fashion. (By contrast, Life is a Minestrone, which harks back to songs such as the Dean and I, feels out of place on this album, being the last glimpse of their previous horizons).

Artistic Self-confidence

A number of established artists released albums that demonstrated their musicality, their lyricism and their willingness to plough their own furrow. Paul Simon, for instance, with Still Crazy after all these years, moved even further from his folk roots and towards a world music sound. Joan Baez, another folkie, came up with Diamonds and Rust. The title track of that album shows a mature woman expressing herself emotionally and musically with total confidence.

Perhaps the most confident disc of all was Night at the Opera, Queen’s move into the big league. Their hard rock sound had already been infiltrated on Sheer Heart Attack by songs like Killer Queen, lyrically clever and musically subtle. On Night at the Opera this process went so much further. You’re my Best Friend, for instance was entirely keyboard led, whilst 39 could have been a Lindisfarne song. The culmination of this of course is Bohemian Rhapsody, a swaggering tour de force that broke the rules and defied pigeon-holing. The band famously stuck to their guns when the record label baulked at releasing it as a single and were triumphantly proved right.

Close behind Night at the Opera was Wish You were Here, Pink Floyd’s follow up to Dark side of the Moon. This was a record that made no concessions to any-one, the record company, the radio stations or even the audience. It was the band doing what they wanted and demanding acceptance. The result was music that, like most of Floyd’s output since Dark Side, really doesn’t belong to a year or an era. Shine On You Crazy Diamond was the concept album track on steroids, whilst the title track was played at the Olympic Opening Ceremony in 2012 by an up and coming musician called Ed Sheeran (It did his career no harm at all).

So this year, that was merely a dip, a pause between greatness, a time of decline, has given us some enduring music by a wide range of artists. As I said at the outset, eclecticism is the hallmark of 1975. And no artist or album personifies the true worth of this year more than Bruce Springsteen and Born to Run. His third album saw Bruce refine the sound of the East Street Band, making it at once sparser and more epic, with nods to the past (the Duane Eddy guitar on Born to Run), great storytelling (Meeting Across The River, Jungleland) and a masterclass in lyricism (Thunder Road), that managed to be a concept album, (as Springsteen expresses it, imagine the action in the songs playing out over the course of a single day) a glimpse of the future and an appeal to romance and freedom.

Of course, I’m biased. I was fourteen in ’75; at that age music tends to burn its way into your mind and make you feel things you’ve never felt before; rebellion, desire, anticipation, a sense of possibility and growing awareness of your independence from your parents. Still, objectively, I feel I have made my case. Feel free to comment and disagree……..

 Joan Baez: Diamonds and Rust Diamonds and Rust

David Bowie: Young Americans Young Americans

10CC: Original Soundtrack- I'm not in love: I'm not in love

Led Zeppelin: Trampled Underfoot: Trampled Underfoot

Bruce Springsteen: Thunder Road: Thunder Road

Pink Floyd: Have a cigar

 

The Year of the Cat; Al Stewart's masterpiece remembered

A brief dissertation on a classic from my youth

It’s a staple of the pub quiz- guess the song from the opening lines. Sometimes it can be less easy than you think. ‘I never thought it would happen, with me and the girl from Clapham’. That’s the opening line of a Squeeze song that has two unique selling points; it batters you relentlessly with rhyming phrases (‘I got a job with Stanley, he said I’d come in handy’) and it never repeats a line, forcing you to pay attention as you listen to the tale of young love it spins. The title of the song is in the last line; ‘and so it’s my assumption, I’m really up the junction’.

We all have our favourites: ‘watching the people get lairy, is not very pretty I tell thee’, ‘all your dreams are made, when your chained to the mirror and the razor blade’. I want to talk about a song that starts with a classic opening line, one that sets up the story, slips in a cinematic reference or two and keeps up the high standard it sets itself all the way through. The song is ‘Year of the Cat’ by Al Stewart. It is the title track of an album from 1976, of which more later, which blends poetry and musical excellence to create a masterpiece. Here are the opening lines:

‘on a morning from a Bogart movie, in a country where they turn back time,

You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre, contemplating a crime’.

By the time you hear those words you are already over a minute into the song (this is the 1970’s, when six minutes and forty seconds is par for the course for an album track). It starts with an upbeat piano riff to which acoustic guitar and drums are smoothly added, before Stewart's fluid vocals begin to tell the story. Peter Lorre of course was a supporting actor in more than one Bogart movie, which sets the mood for what is unfolding. 

I rate the next lines as among the greatest lyrics ever written:

‘she comes out of the sun in a silk dress running like a watercolour in the rain’

If the opening lines establish the listener as the hero of the scenario (again, this is the 1970’s, so it’s about a hero) the next lines introduce the female lead, mysterious, sensual and seductive. You the listener are in deep waters now, abroad in a foreign place, never quite specified but somehow Mediterranean, ‘by the blue-tiled walls near the market stalls, there’s a hidden door she leads you to’. The two protagonists go through the door and it is left to the imagination what occurs. But if the song doesn’t go into details, the music provides all you need to know.

 The middle section of the song is to my mind simply perfect. It starts with some subtle Spanish Guitar foreplay, leading into an urgent lead guitar solo that reaches a peak and morphs almost unnoticed into a saxophone break, an extended ecstasy of sound that gradually subsides via soaring strings to a repeat of the opening piano. How was it for you darling?

As the lyrics resume the consequences show themselves;

Well morning comes and you’re still with her, and the bus and the tourists are gone/and you’ve thrown away your choice, and lost your ticket, so you have to stay on’, but there is no need for regret, because ‘the drumbeat strains of the night remain in the rythm of the new-born day’.

At this point the listener understands that they have had a glimpse of a classic holiday romance, the kind of escape from normal life that is too wonderful to last ‘you know sometime you’re bound to leave her’ but that was completely worth falling into and will be remembered and cherished lifelong. The saxophone resumes as a passionate reminder of what has occurred as the song plays out.

Year of the Cat, the song and the album, are exemplars of the kind of moment that often occurs all too rarely; when an artist experiences a congruence between their creative powers, the right musicians to bring that creativity to fruition and a receptive audience. It also serves as a reminder that the standard narrative of the middle years of that decade being a low point between the high point of ‘71/72 and the outburst of rage and innovation that was triggered by punk rock can be a carelessly lazy description of what was going on. 1975 and 1976 had their share of duds, but they also benefited from a gloriously eclectic set of charts that saw artists like Dolly Parton and Gordon Lightfoot rub shoulders with Cockney Rebel, ELO and reggae acts such as Susan Cadogan and of course Bob Marley.

The B side of Year of the Cat, the vinyl single, was also from the album; Broadway Hotel. In those days, if you bought the single, you would often go on to buy the album as well. So my vinyl copy is something of an artefact in its own right.

So now you've read the review, go ahead and listen to the song. Remember to don your linen suit or silk dress first to get into character.....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ak_MTXQALa0