A Black Music Month Tribute to Soft Rock
by Mark Anthony Neal | NewBlackMan
For much of my childhood, I lived an undercover life. Growing up in the Bronx and amongst my friends, I was, for the most part, a normal nappy-headed Negro—that is until I retreated into the safety of my bedroom and my transistor radio, and listened to stations like WAMC-AM, WCBS-FM and WXLO—99X (in the years before 98.7 Kiss). It is in those moments that I fell in love with Soft Rock—a secret I was able to keep, until I was exposed one day, after a trip to the record store and some of my friends discovered the copy of Andy Gibbs’ “Shadow Dancing” in my bag and followed with the quip, “you listen to that shit.”
Indeed there were many afternoons, holed up in my room, listening to Harry Harrison or Dan Ingram on WABC, while playing dozens of games of Strat-o-Matic Baseball. Even today, it not unusual during long drives with the family, to put on my playlist “Harry Harrison” (recently renamed “Chuck Leonard” to acknowledge the late Black jock who broke through on Pop-Top 40 radio, before beginning a long career and 98.7-Kiss-FM), much to the dismay of my family, especially when I break out in-sing-along with Paul McCartney on Wings’ “With a Little Luck.”
Below is my small “Black Music Month” tribute to Soft Rock.
Todd Rundgren—“I Saw the Light” (1972)
Came to appreciate Rundgren’s songwriting as an adult, listening to the Isley’s version of his “Hello It’s Me,” (they also covered Seals and Crofts’s “Summer Breeze”) but it’s “I Saw the Light” that finds me hitting the repeat button—often. Something about that feeling of a new relationship and that sense of whimsy and surprise in his vocals.
England Dan and John Ford Coley—“Love is the Answer” (1979)
The duo is most well known for the track “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight”—which I didn’t like. I always managed to catch “Love is the Answer” in the middle, right before the Gospel choir breaks out in song. For years I thought it was Cliff Richards, until a successful Google search a few years ago directed me to England Dan and Coley (both from Texas, incidentally). Turns out there was a Rundgren connection; song was written by Rundgren and originally recorded by his group Utopia in 1977.
Ambrosia—“How Much I Feel” (1978)
The year was 1978 and I was in 8th grade, experiencing my first real romantic relationship (if you could call it that at age 12). Was in the midst of an afternoon nap when I first heard Ambrosia’s “How Much I Feel” and immediately loved the story that the group was telling, about the ups and downs of a relationship. The post-breakup third verse has always stayed with me: “how’s your life been going on? | I got a wife now, for years we been going strong…”—a line I have imagined saying to any number of my ex-girlfriends. With songs like “The Biggest Part of Me” (later covered by Take 6) and “You’re the Only Woman,” Ambrosia remains one of my favorite pop groups from that era.
Bee Gees—“Fanny (Be Tender with My Heart)” (1976
I was never a big fan of the Bee Gees, but after Saturday Night Fever (1977), I absolutely hated them. Give the Brothers Gibb some credit—they could write some songs. Folk often forget that Al Green was covering them, on his classic “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart.” “Fanny” was the third single from their first Gold album Main Course (1975) which also included “Nights on Broadway” and “Jive Talkin,’” the latter signaling their entry into Disco.
Boz Scaggs—“Lowdown” (1976)
So for the record, Boz Scaggs shouldn’t be on this list; he’s the only White artist from the 1970s (save Elton John or David Bowie) that I would have heard on both WABC and WBLS in New York. “Lowdown” was quintessential 1970s Pop radio, taken from his breakthrough Silk Degrees. When I later heard “Lido Shuffle” on 99X, I was surprised to find out that it was from the same artist. But Scaggs wasn’t just slumming on Soul street, as a track like “JoJo” (1980) later showed.
Rickie Lee Jones—“Chuck E’s in Love” (1979)
While my parents listened to Black radio in the 1970s, namely WBLS, and I was trolling on AM Top-Pop-40, I was largely obvious to FM rock stations, of which 99X was one of the most prominent in New York. The introduction came courtesy of my bestie Frank Paul, whose older sister Stacy was a fan of the station. With access to groups like Queen, ELO and Steeley Dan, my musical palate was immediately expanded. It was in that same Paul household where I was introduced to Rickie Lee Jones’ “Chuck E’s in Love,” and Jones bluesy' slur of a voice (clearly influenced by Billie Holiday, though I was oblivious to that in 1979). Returned to Jones’ self-titled debut years later when Jazz vocalist Dianne Reeves covered her “Company.”
Andy Gibb and Olivia Newton John—“I Can’t Help It” (1981)
As I mentioned in the intro, had a bit of a thing for Andy Gibb’s music when I was young. Bought singles from both of his first two albums with “I Just Want to Be Your Everything” (1977) and “Everlasting Love” (1979) being particularly favorites. My favorite Gibb song though is from his last studio album—as his career would be derailed by drug addition until his death at age 30 in 1988. “I Can’t Help It,” paired Gibb with friend Olivia Newton John—the Brothers Gibb, Newton John, and Air Supply (the group that practically defined Soft Rock) were all part of an Australian music invasion. There was a sweetness about “I Can’t Help It” that I recognized even as a 15-year-old—a sweetness that I return to fairly regularly on my iPod.
Dave Mason—“We Just Disagree” (1977)
The joy on the MP3 era is that if you liked a song, you could just download that song—and such was the case with Dave Mason’s “We Just Disagree.” I don’t know any other Mason songs, except “Feelin’ Alright,” a song he wrote while with the band Traffic and was later recorded by Joe Cocker. Given the era it was released, I always thought the song was a post-1960s remembrance of that time—two friends, one who might have gone to Vietnam, another, who left for Canada, reconnecting; turns out it’s a song about divorce. Go figure.
Motherlode—“When I Die” (1969)
“When I Die” was a song that I recall hearing on three separate occasions between 1983 and 1997. First heard it during one of WCBS-FM’s weekly top-20 countdowns from the past—1969—and of course I didn’t get the name of the song or the band, but the song just affected me. Heard it again on two occasions while living in the Buffalo area in the 1990s, which I would later find out made some sense, since the band was from just across the border in Ontario and got a lot of airplay in places like Buffalo and Detroit (more on that in a bit) during their heyday. Enough of the melody and lyrics had stayed with me, that when I heard the song in the car of my colleague, Northwestern political scientist Richard Iton, I gasped for air, figuring that my long search was over (which it was). Iton, who had roots in the Caribbean and Ontario, was aware of the song from his youth, but had taken an additional interest in the song because of a now celebrated Detroit producer—James Yancy—who sampled the song (on his deathbed) for “Welcome to the Show” (Donuts). And yes, one of them is Black.
