This week we go back to the year we covered when I did that "sneak preview" a couple months back. Here's what Casey counted down during my first few days of Grade 5.
40 - "I'm in Love," Evelyn King
39 - "Straight from the Heart," The Allman Brothers Band
38 - "Just Once," Quincy Jones featuring James Ingram
37 - "When She was My Girl," The Four Tops
36 - "Some Days are Diamonds," John Denver
35 - "General Hospi-tale," The Afternoon Delights
34 - "Chloe," Elton John
33 - "We're In This Love Together," Al Jarreau
32 - "You Could Take My Heart Away," Silver Condor
31 - "I've Done Everything for You," Rick Springfield
A lot of R&B/soul in this first section. Evelyn King (not billed as "Champagne" on this one) stalled at 40 with this funky little declaration of affection. Nothing special in the lyrics department, but very good. Quincy Jones introduced the world to previously-unknown session singer James Ingram about an on again-off again relationship and the couple's search for a way to "make the magic last for more than just one night." Ingram would later perform this song in the 3-D House of Beef on SCTV. The Four Tops returned to the 40 after an eight-year absence with a reminiscence of a lost love. Not up there with their best material, but as I've said before, I'll always have time for a Levi Stubbs vocal. And jazz singer Al Jarreau was 41 when he made his pop breaktrhough with this smooth tune about a love that "like berries on the vine, it gets sweeter all the time." It's waiting-room music, but very good waiting-room music.
There's rock here. Gregg Allman and his band are here with a song where he's asking a woman (presumably not Cher) for a second chance. It's an okay Southern rock ballad, with the band's signature guitar sound, but it's marred somewhat by some overly-bright 80s keyboards. Silver Condor were a short-lived band that featured Earl Slick, a frequent David Bowie sideman. Their only hit was this midtempo ballad about looking for brief relief from loneliness. To me, they sound like a much better version of The Little River Band. And Rick Springfield followed up his smash breaktrhough "Jessie's Girl" with this rockin' complaint about the inequity in his current romantic entanglement. I wouldn't say that it does nothin' for me, but it doesn't do much.
A little bit of the easy stuff. John Denver cracked the Top 40 for the first time in four years with a country number about how since his lover left him, he has his good and bad days. Although judging from the lyrics, more of his days are stones than diamonds. He would only hit the 40 one more time after this. Elton John is here yet again with a ballad about a very understanding lady who takes "all the pain I give you, loving blindly in return." The string arrangement brings back memories of his better 70s stuff, but otherwise, this is just okay.
Lastly, we come to this week's Uneasy Rider. The soap opera General Hospital was a white-hot phenomenon at this time, led by the "Luke and Laura" storyline that would lead to their much-watched wedding that November. To cash in on this, a group of Boston singers cut this disco record that featured one of the women rapping about various storylines (adultery, stolen gold, insanity, etc.). "I just can't cope without my soap," she declares. A novelty very much of its times. And the last syllable of the title is pronounced to rhyme with "gal" or "pal."
30 - "Fire and Ice," Pat Benatar
29 - "Hard to Say," Dan Fogelberg
28 - "Draw of the Cards," Kim Carnes
27 - "Private Eyes," Daryl Hall and John Oates
26 - "Super Freak," Rick James
25 - "Share Your Love With Me," Kenny Rogers
24 - "Really Wanna Know You," Gary Wright
23 - "Breaking Away," Balance
22 - "I Could Never Miss You (More Than I Do)," Lulu
21 - "In Your Letter," REO Speedwagon
This time we begin with the rock. Pat Benatar is here doing her passionate-belting thing on this song about trying to resist falling for a guy who's love runs hot and cold. For some reason, I always found her a comforting presence on the radio. I don't usually classify Hall and Oates as "rock," but the urgency of this stalkeriffic classic that would become their second #1 doesn't fit at all in the easy-listening category, so here they are. Gary "Dream Weaver" Wright had his last Top 40 with this midtempo rock ballad in which I think he means the title in the more familiar sense, not the Biblical one. At least not immediately. Besides, this doesn't immediately conjure up visions of back-of-van sex the way his other two hits do. But it has its own spacey charms. And REO Speedwagon continued their transition from under-the-pop-radar rock journeymen to Top 40 stalwarts with this retro-sounding pop-rocker about a particularly nasty Dear John letter. There's some nice piano and keyboard soloing, and the whole thing has a very catchy vibe to it. I like this much better than the big ballads they're best known for.
We walk quite a bit on the mild side in this bunch. MOR superstar Dan Fogelberg is here with a song he apparently wrote while recovering from surgery. If he had written it before, they could have used it as anasthetic. Really, sometimes you listen to this guy and legitimately question whether or not he has a pulse. Kim Carnes followed up "Bette Davis Eyes" with this snakey semi-rocker that uses playing cards as a metaphor for the randomness of fate. No mystery why this didn't come close to duplicating "Bette"'s success. Kenny Rogers was on the charts at this time with a cover of a 1970 Aretha Franklin hit. I haven't heard Aretha's version, but I'm sure it's way better than this. And I probably should, because even though Kenny doesn't really do very well with it, the quality of the song shines through. Balance are a faceless band whose only hit was this peppy breakup song that sounds like it could have been done by Starship in the latter part of the decade. And no, that's not a good thing. And Scotswoman Marie McDonald McLaughlin Lawrie, best known for the title song to the Sidney Poitier movie To Sir, With Love, made her return to the U.S. charts after a dozen years with this sultry disco-lite protestation of need. It was worth the wait.
And we finish with soul/funk's only rep in this section, Rick James's immortal ode to "a very kinky girl, the kind you don't take home to mu-THAAA." Yes, it's to blame for that blight on the summer of 1990, "U Can't Touch This." But just listen to the down-and-dirty original with open ears and you will forgive him.
Tomorrow: odes to a spy, a superhero, and a drunken playboy.
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