Possibly our last trip to the first year I covered here. Ah, memories...
40 - "Frankenstein," The Edgar Winter Group
39 - "Daddy Could Swear, I Declare," Gladys Knight and the Pips
38 - "Angel," Aretha Franklin
37 - "Soul Makossa," Manu Dibango
36 - "I'll Always Love My Mama," The Intruders
35 - "How Can I Tell Her," Lobo
34 - "I'm Gonna Love You Just A Little More Baby," Barry White
33 - "Here I Am (Come and Take Me)," Al Green
32 - "One of a Kind (Love Affair)," The Spinners
31 - "Where Peaceful Waters Flow," Gladys Knight and the Pips
A bucketload of soul/funk/R&B in this group, so let's start with the two songs that don't fall into that category. Edgar Winter and band are back from May with the last gasp of their iconic monster-inspired instrumental. The sax part is underrated.
And Lobo is here again, trying to go all sensitive-guy to cover up the fact that he's a cheating dog. And not one named Boo, either.
We'll divide the R&B into group and solo categories. Gladys K. and her reinforcements are here twice. First, they come with a funky reminiscence of a father who was as loving and caring as you'd want a dad to be, but when angered, was capable of language that could peel the paint of the walls. Then they go into gospel mode on a song in which Gladys promises that when you're down and lonely, she will take you by the hand to a quiet place and "teach you how to smile." That may sound suggestive out of context, but it's just pure beautiful friendship. Lovely. Philly soul footnotes The Intruders reveal themselves to be big ol' mother lovers on a song in which they declare their undying devotion for the woman who "used to clean somebody else's house just to buy me a new pair of shoes." This was a big week for parental appreciation, apparently. And The Spinners are here with a typically smooth jam about the delights of romance. But there are some people who thought they heard lead singer Philippe Wynne sing "you just gotta fuck her," near the end. That's not smooth at all. Hearing the allegedly offending line, I must say, I can't make out what is being said, but I know in my soul that The Spinners would not Trojan horse vulgarity into one of their records. They're not the kind.
Closing this part out are the singletons. Aretha opens her entry here with a spoken word intro about her sister Carolyn calling her over to talk and telling her how badly she needs someone to love. Seems a little odd to be sharing a sister's romantic confessions, but since Carolyn co-wrote the song, I guess it's okay. Cameroonian saxophonist Manu Dibango's example of the African dance genre "makossa" was discovered by prominent New York tastemakers, made its way to radio stations across the U.S.A., and is now regarded by many as one of the first disco hits. Fantastic. Barry White is here with his first hit, which introduced his smooth baritone and loverman rap to a receptive world. Like that kinda gothic opening. And Al Green returns with the song that prompted me to confess my ignorance of his oeuvre all those months ago. Have I learned as much about his work as I'd intended to since then. I can't say that I have. But I know more than I did. And I know he's an absolutely deserving legend.
30 - "Uneasy Rider," Charlie Daniels
29 - "Live and Let Die," Wings
28 - "Satin Sheets," Jeanne Pruett
27 - "If You Want Me to Stay," Sly and the Family Stone
26 - "I Believe in You (You Believe in Me)," Johnnie Taylor
25 - "Doin' it to Death," Fred Wesley and the J.B.s
24 - "Brother Louie," Stories
23 - "Misdemeanor," Foster Sylvers
22 - "Get Down," Gilbert O'Sullivan
21 - "My Love," Paul McCartney and Wings
We start with country. Charlie Daniels is here with the tale of a hippie's run-in with rednecks was on the first BGC chart, and it lives on in the weekly award for the song that most sticks out like a sore thumb on the chart. But no, it doesn't win this week. And Jeanne Pruett had by far her biggest hit with an old-school lament about a woman married to a man who gives her everything who longs to give it all up for the guy she really loves. I used to roll my eyes at songs that sounded like this, but I've grown to appreciate ones that are done really well. And this is one.
Then we rock. Wings are in this section twice, but only once with their leader getting featured billing. First they contribute one of the great Bond themes, with music and lyrics that evoke the proper amounts of action and intrigue. Then they're in ballad mode with a super sincere declaration of love for a woman. Could have been sappy, but it works fine. And "Brother Louie," you'll recall, was Number One that very first week, and I'm happy to say that this time, Casey played the unedited version of the tale of interracial romance. Good song, but still not convinced it's of #1 caliber.
The soul domination continues. Sly and his unrelated Family are back with their last big hit. Fittingly, it's a funky, laid-back song about a funky, laid-back departure. Love it. Johnnie Taylor is here with an atypically tender song about sharing a love that others don't think should be. This is better that 100 "Disco Lady"s. "Doin' it to Death," is a funky strut that's credited to trombonist Fred Wesley and James Brown's backup band, but James himself is present and correct, promising "a funky good time." And he delivers, with no small assistance from Wesley's prominent horn work. And before he joined the rest of his family on smashes like "Boogie Fever," young Foster Sylvers hit the charts with this fun little trifle in which he compares the theft of his heart by a girl to minor offenses like illegal parking or running a red light. It's like a poor-man's Michael Jackson single from that period, but I mean that in a good way.
We close with Gilbert O'Sullivan, who stands alone because I'm certainly not going to call him country, rock, and certainly not soul. I'm still not sure if "Get Down" is about a woman or a dog, but it doesn't really matter. I just find it incredibly odd that this guy of all people was one of the biggest pop stars in the world for a period of 12-18 months. It may be the biggest mystery I've come across in this whole process.
Tomorrow: a rare hit from one of the decade's biggest band's, a faux-physician from Louisiana, and for a few minutes, it's 1941 again.
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