10 Songs About The Power Of Music, Part 1

Every now and again, we like to mix things up at “You Must Hear This Album.” This time, we’re spotlighting 10 notable songs about songs, in two installments: melodic odes to music itself, the very thing that inspires us, excites us, comforts us, and informs us. Music accompanies us through all of our rites of passage: when we get married, when we graduate, when we drive to work, and when we celebrate. It’s the soundtrack of life, and as such, this writer believes music to be essential to life and deserving of a little praise. These featured songs and artists, while not representative, definitive, or even "cool," (to wit, some great songs that didn’t make the cut: “Where It’s At,” by Beck, “Sultans of Swing,” by Dire Straits, “I Dig Rock-andRoll Music, by Peter, Paul, and Mary, and “Still Rock-and-Roll To Me,” by Billy Joel, etc.), are certainly worthy of searching out. Accordingly, the songs are not listed in any particular order, but taken together, represent a harmonious sampling of our collective dependence upon musical expression, one of our greatest treasures.

We’ll begin the first installment with “We Will Rock You,” by Queen. This 1977 double-sided #2 smash hit (“Rock You” was the “b-side” to “We Are The Champions”) was inspired by the band’s desire to involve their fans more in their rock shows, being moved on one occasion by an audience singing “You’ll Never Walk Alone” to the band for an encore. An understandably powerful moment for the lads. Not only is “Rock You” the band’s singular promise to their fans, but the song has transcended the music world, morphing into the standard rallying cry at athletic matches of every variety. And who can resist the catchy, “stomp, stomp, CLAP! stomp, stomp, CLAP!” hook that permeates the record. Instantly recognizable. Instantly classic. Powerful. Punchy. Perfect. Just like the band.

“I Love Rock and Roll,” by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts. Joan Jett and The Blackhearts performed the definitive 1982 version of this song, written by Alan Merrill and Jake Hooker, from the British band, “Arrows.” Jett’s iteration spent seven weeks at number one that summer and featured one of the cheesiest/coolest music videos in the early days of the medium (was I the only pre-teen who worried that Jett might be a biter?). Just watching the video made me suspect my parents weren't telling me everything (turns out, they weren't). The song was ubiquitous on the radio that spring, and for me, turned into summer’s invocation; it was so visceral and rebellious and kick-ass; the perfect jolt in the arm this 11 year-old needed as I prepared to matriculate into a new school the next town over. It was my go-to song that summer and into the fall, until this little album titled, Thriller, came out that November...

“Drift Away,” by Judson Spence. While it’s deservedly best-known incarnation was released in 1973 by the late Dobie Gray (#5), who sadly left us in 2011, “Drift Away” has received numerous treatments over the decades, covered by such heavy-hitters as Willie Nelson, Tina Turner, and the Rolling Stones, to name a few, but my all-time favorite version comes from a relatively unknown artist who debuted in the late 1980’s and whose lifespan on the pop charts was short-lived. Judson Spence’s reading of the 1970’s classic demonstrates a gifted interpreter of rock classics; I wish he would have done an entire album of these. And fortunately, Spence’s version is actually available today on iTunes. It’s featured on the soundtrack to the late-1980’s television program, “The Wonder Years.” The album is an inoffensive tribute to music from the late 1960’s / early 1970’s, featuring originals from the likes of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young as well as covers by Julian Lennon and Debbie Gibson, who closes the set with an amiable tune about what it feels like to grow up in the suburbs. Fitting for the program. Fitting for the soundtrack.

“Sing,” by Carpenters. Richard Carpenter reportedly regrets recording this Grammy-winning hit song (#3 in 1973), seeing it as trifle, compared to their other recordings (as well as a waste of time, given the precious few years of recording they ended up having during Karen’s lifetime), but nonetheless, this Sesame Street classic stands as a tender tribute to the inspirational power of music, and while targeted at children, it’s message transcends age and time: everybody has a theme song and shouldn’t be afraid to sing it out loud (what’s yours?). What’s mine, you ask? Naturally, it’s “Warm It Up,” the 1992 #13 hit by Kris Kross.

“Music,” by Madonna. You may not remember this, but in the late-1990’s, many folks had written off the Queen of Pop. Apparently, with the late-90’s rise of grunge and the short-lived girl singer-songwriters (I’m looking at you, Jewel, Fiona, Joan, and Alanis) the “Material Girl” had apparently outstayed her welcome. With the love-it-or-hate-it Erotica album, in 1992, and the all-over-the-place Bedtime Stories, in 1994 (and the Evita debacle in 1996), the Madonna hit-machine seemed to have blown a gasket. But late in the dingy decade, Stella got her groove back, releasing the dazzling one-two punch of the Ray Of Light album, in 1998, and Music, in 2000. The title song on the latter album is a sassy, dance floor lolly about the transcendence of music. Favorite line referencing our need for music: “It's like ridin' on the wind and it never goes away, touches everything I'm in, got to have it everyday.” Well said, your “Madjesty.”

"2:00 A.M. Paradise Cafe'," by Barry Manilow

I like Barry Manilow. Well, I like his music, anyway; I’ve never met the legendary entertainer, who stepped onto the pop music landscape in 1973, wearing platform boots and a sequined, blue jumpsuit and hasn’t been out of the spotlight since. Now, mind you, I’m not a “Manilooney,” one of the superfans who follow Manilow around the country, show to show, like the “Deadheads” to The Grateful Dead, but I would consider myself at least a rank-and-file fan of “the old songs.” Don’t laugh. You know you stop on “Copacabana” when you’re by yourself in the car. Admit it. And, besides, there’s no shame in appreciating songs adored by ba-jillions. I mean, legions of “Fanilows” can’t be wrong, right?

Still a skeptic? Humph! Then don’t take my word for it, let the evidence speak for itself: from 1974 to 1983, Manilow placed 25 songs into Billboard’s Top 40 charts, with three number ones and millions of albums sold in a career that’s lasted almost 40 years. I'll grant that album sales, alone, do not, necessarily, place an artist on a "Must Hear" list, but consider that in the early 70’s, Frank Sinatra reportedly said of Manilow, “He’s next.” Not a bad endorsement. Even Axl Rose, 1980's icon and metal head, purports to have been inspired by Manilow’s first hit, “Mandy.” True story. Look it up. And today, Manilow is undeniably woven into the fabric of popular culture, being lampooned and heralded simultaneously over the years in television shows, like “Night Court,” in the 1980’s and more recently, “Ally McBeal,” “The Simpsons,” and even having his own “theme night” on “American Idol.” Not convinced yet? Sigh…whatever. Bob Dylan agrees with me (Again, true story. Look it up).

But while his best-known songs and albums from the 1970’s get most of the attention, in 1984, Manilow quietly recorded what many consider to be his very best album: the smoky, jazzy, barroom-in-the-middle-of-the-night, sleeper, 2:00 A.M. Paradise Café. The album was a change of pace for the adult contemporary superstar, who had spent the previous decade ubiquitous on the radio, but by the early 1980’s, Manilow had sputtered into a rough patch, artistically. While each, new release was hitting the coveted, million sales mark, he was in a holding pattern, creatively, and suddenly, he found his polished pop records playing awkward kid brother in a “Top 40” playground filled with future classics, like The Clash’s “Rock The Casbah,” John “Cougar” Mellencamp’s, “Jack and Diane,” The Human League's, “Don’t You Want Me?” and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts’ “I Love Rock & Roll.” Not likely to compete in the new-wave and rock-dominated radio landscape, Manilow seemed to purposely remove himself from the contest, and the resulting album was one of the most memorable of his career.

The concept of Paradise Café started by accident, when Ginger Mercer, the wife of the legendary songwriter, Johnny Mercer, sent Manilow a cache of Mercer’s lyrics, inviting him to compose music to any of the verses that piqued his interest. Manilow obliged, writing the music for the astounding, nostalgia-tinged poem, “When October Goes.” Stemming from that piano masterpiece, Manilow conceived the idea of an entire album of original, jazz-styled songs hovering around the motif of a nightclub at 2 o’clock in the morning, whose customers should have called it a night, but who, for that moment, the skuzzy little bar seems to offer more than whatever is, or whatever isn’t waiting at home.

What I also love about this album is the “samey” feeling the melodies have, each riffing off the title track, but also holding their own as individual songs. Manilow recruited legendary jazz musicians to assist on the record, including Gerry Mulligan, Bill Mays, Mundell Lowe, Mel Torme’, and Sarah Vaughan, the latter two sharing vocals on two songs, “Big City Blues,” and “Blue,” respectively. The duets are standouts on the album, and Manilow’s exchanging lines with Torme’ and Vaughan reveals, not a vocal peer, but a fan, enraptured by this once-in-a-lifetime chance to share his songs with the very artists, who inspired him to become a musician in the first place.

I posit that Manilow’s contribution to the pop pantheon ended after Paradise Café, and while many thought the album, departure that it was, to be only a brief detour, for the next 35 years and up to present day, he’s never really returned to his pop roots, rarely even recording any of his own compositions. In fact, after Paradise, the musician’s modus operandi was to turn-in album after album of gimmicky, concept records, from swing music to show tunes to big band music, to three Christmas albums, to the horrifyingly contrived series that followed: the “Best Songs Of The 50’s,” “Best Songs Of The 60’s,” “Best Songs Of The 70’s,” “Best Songs Of The 80’s,” Sigh…was their a 90’s iteration? Who knows? Who cares? The albums were an awful dénouement in the oeuvre of a gifted entertainer. but Manilow is in the studio as I write this, working on his next album, which is rumored to harken back to his glory days of the 1970’s. If you’re reading this, Barry, we're all tryin’ to get the feelin’ again. Don’t let us down.

Post Script: I argue that the gist of Paradise Cafe', like much of Manilow's career, is more about the love of music than forging "new ground" or pandering to the "hip" rock scene, and over the years, Manilow often showed this hand by singing songs about songs (to wit: “I Write The Songs,” “This One’s For You,” “Beautiful Music,” “The Old Songs,” and I Made It Through The Rain, a #10 hit in 1980, that’s original lyrics lovingly describe the craft of song writing), maybe it was inevitable that Manilow relegate himself to an oldies act, or maybe the music and passion just went out of fashion for him. I guess we have to wait and see…