Let's do this. Here are the first twenty-five of Music of the Weak's 50 favorite songs/singles of that year, with links to streaming mp3s or YouTube era-appropriate live performances, when available.
50. The B-52’s – “52 Girls”
The sound that The B-52’s pioneered on this B-Side to their career-making first single, “Rock Lobster,” is enjoying a mild resurgence at the moment. “52 Girls” is the song you play for people in order to prove that Veronica Girls are a bunch of posers. The B-52’s counter the goofy ebullience of the A-side with impending doom and suggested malice—created by Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson’s minor-key harmonizing over a relentless 1950’s car-chase rhythm section, while Fred Schneider’s immediately recognizable exclamations remain entirely absent. It’s the sound of the band The B-52’s thought they were going to be before “Rock Lobster” made them who they are.
49. Culture – “Love Shine Bright”
Recorded in the same sessions as their seminal Two Sevens Clash, Culture’s “Love Shine Bright” typifies everything that the venerable roots reggae crew does well—laying a simple message over a simple groove and punctuating it with an unfadeable horn riff. But the most memorable thing about “Love Shine Bright” is the high pitched whine, like the sound of someone letting helium out of a balloon, which pervades the verses and choruses. Though it’s easy to overlook now that reggae has been the poster-genre for dorm rooms and stoners for the past couple of decades, the most endearing thing about reggae in the late 70’s is that, even at its most straight-forward, it’s still fucking weird.
48. Hot Chocolate – “Every 1’s a Winner”
Throughout the 70’s, Hot Chocolate had a string of hits in Britain, beginning with a John Lennon-endorsed reggae version of “Give Peace a Chance” in 1969. In the U.S., they’re known for “You Sexy Thing”—because it showed up in so many box office comedies in the late 90’s, it must have been worked into the studio contracts—and the slightly less ubiquitous “Every 1’s a Winner.” The song revolves around a brittle electric guitar lick—possibly the shining moment of guitarist Harvey Hinsley’s career—but is really a showcase for Erroll Brown’s confident, if slightly affected, vocals. If “You Sexy Thing” was Hot Chocolate’s pick-up line, “Every 1’s a Winner” is their cheeky pillow talk.
47. Talking Heads – “The Big Country”
More Songs About Buildings and Food only spawned one actual single (the Al Green cover “Take Me to the River”), as opposed to the three that Talking Heads’ debut contained. Perhaps David Byrne and company were chasing after something deeper and more resonant than, say, the explosive but kitschy “Psycho Killer.” Whatever the motivation for toning down their mannerisms, Buildings and Food’s best song, “The Big Country,” manages to be quirky, touching, nostalgic, bitter, wistful and ironic all at once—and Byrne finds a way to be poignant without sacrificing one bit of his eccentricity, ending the song with some typical David Byrne baby talk.
46. Earth, Wind and Fire – “September”
Earth, Wind and Fire have become a signifier for the type of grocery store loudspeaker funk that either drives people to buy check-out aisle R&B collections, or drives them away from the genre altogether. Fittingly, “September” sees the group at their most bubblegum—it’s a move to capitalize on the disco craze as calculated as “December, 1963 (Oh What a Night).” Also like The Four Seasons’ hit, it’s as catchy as a cold sore—with a handful of wordless melodies to sing along with on the dance floor. “September” isn’t going to change anyone’s mind about the relative worth of Earth, Wind and Fire, but it’s too good at what it does to care.
45. Yellow Magic Orchestra – “Firecracker” (also released in the U.S. as “Computer Game” in 1979)
Historians, please note: In 1978, we were already through the looking glass. Producer/bassist Haruomi Hosono hired a couple of session musicians to use synthesizers to recreate “Firecracker”—a hit for exotica godfather Martin Denny (off of the album Quiet Village—the inspiration for the modern duo with the same name) which homogenized traditional Japanese musical themes. With an introduction stolen from the video game Circus, “Firecracker” kick-started a legitimate career for the three musicians—which still results in reunion concerts thirty years later. Between the vaguely silly band name, and the mash-up of Eastern and Western styles (Japanese musicians using a popular German sound to cover an American song with Japanese themes and a tropical Latin bent), Yellow Magic Orchestra were making an early pitch for a post-racial musical landscape.
44. Amii Stewart – “Knock On Wood”
With its insistent horns and classic soul performance, Eddie Floyd’s original 1966 version of “Knock On Wood” was ripe for a dance floor makeover. Amii Stewart—who had been a Broadway actress—ups the drama with back-up singers and (in some versions) wacky sound effects; juices up the horn line; and absolutely commands the vocal. It was a mixed blessing for Stewart, who attempted to follow the massive hit with a disco cover of “Light My Fire,” and inevitably faded into obscurity, but the idiosyncratic “Knock On Wood” will be forever emblematic of disco itself.
43. The Bar-Kays – “The Holy Ghost”
The Bar-Kays should have disbanded about seven times over by the time they had a top ten hit with “The Holy Ghost” in 1978. Not only did 2/3 of the band’s original line-up perish in the same plane crash that killed Otis Redding (who they were backing on tour) on December 10, 1967, but the reformed band continually stalled out commercially—their only hit, following 1967’s “Soul Finger,” was “Son of Shaft,” a riff on the monster hit by Isaac Hayes, who they backed on Hot Buttered Soul and Shaft. When Stax, their longtime label, folded in 1975, The Bar-Kays could have easily called it quits. Instead, they came back strong—receiving their first gold record in 1977 and triumphing again the following year with “The Holy Ghost,” which had been recorded years earlier in one of their Stax sessions. Ultimately, “The Holy Ghost” would become one of The Bar-Kay’s biggest legacies, being sampled in one of the best songs of the 1980’s, “Pump Up the Volume” by M/A/R/R/S.
42. Buzzcocks – “Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)?”
The Buzzcocks were the dick joke to the Sex Pistols’ rock-through-a-window. They wrote songs about sex and cars and being sixteen, so it’s little surprise that arguably their greatest achievement would be a heart-on-its-sleeve love song with lyrics that could describe the plot of a John Hughes movie. Yet “Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)” is so forceful and urgent on its own terms that it sets a completely different bar for punk than, say, “God Save the Queen” or “Beat on the Brat” does—passion over aggression, anguish over anger.
41. Chic – “I Want Your Love”
Of course “Le Freak” was the hit—it came with a chant, a “new dance craze,” and a ridiculously luscious bass rumble courtesy of Bernard Edwards—but follow-up single “I Want Your Love” is the more rewarding song in the long term, which may be why it had a longer chart-life. “I Want Your Love” gives each of Chic’s incredible musicians ample opportunity to strut—Norma Jean Wright and Alfa Anderson turn in lush, continually unfolding vocals; Edwards’ bass parts are loose and subtle; the trumpets get a chance to shine; and Nile Rogers’ drives the song without ever dominating it. When people refer to Chic as one of the best bands of the seventies, this is what they’re talking about.
40. Black Devil – “Timing, Forget the Timing”
When Black Devil’s debut EP resurfaced in 2004, it was thought to be a fake (in some corners, it still is). Listening to the EP’s second track, “Timing, Forget the Timing,” it’s easy to see why—as it uses tape loops and imagines the future of house music and Italo disco, sounding as contemporary, if not more contemporary than many of 1978’s great songs. Sure, plenty of points in the group’s mythology do sound pat—the duo that comprise Black Devil are library musicians, rumored to have been rediscovered by an acid-tripping Richard D. James, and even the EP’s iconic album cover of a topless disco vampire is a little on-the-nose—but the mystery alone makes “Timing, Forget the Timing” one of 1978’s must-hears.
39. Sun Ra – "Where Pathways Meet"”
“Where Pathways Meet” is a perfect example of why 1978’s Lanquidity frequently gets referred to as Sun Ra’s “dance album” (proving that, yes, in fact, everyone was making dance albums in 1978). Over a downright swinging rhythm, Eddie Gale (the trumpeter now making appearances with the East Bay’s The Coup); longtime Sun Ra sideman, tenor sax player John Gilmore; multi-instrumentalist Marshall Allen ; and Sun Ra himself all attempt to one-up one another with their solos. They sound like they’re having the time of their life.
38. Joe Jackson – “Is She Really Going Out With Him?”
In retrospect, it’s pretty obvious why she’s going out with “him” and not Joe Jackson—because he’s a whiny little man-child. The guy sits up in his window, drinking cold coffee, and wondering why he can’t pull the women that ugly gorillas can. Not to mention, he can’t even muster up enough confidence to fool himself into thinking he looks real cool. Get in the game, dude! Songs like this make it seem like it’s okay to be one of these guys. It’s not okay.
37. Rich Kids – “Ghosts of Princes in Towers”
By 1978, many of punk rock’s architects were already rejecting the genre—giving it one of the fastest hype-cycle turnarounds in rock history. While his former band mate John Lydon tinkered around with dub in Public Image Ltd., ex-Sex Pistol Glen Matlock used his punk pedigree to lend credibility to the power pop generated by his new band, Rich Kids. The Mick Ronson-produced “Ghosts of Princes in Towers” tears through three and a half minutes of fairy tale moralizing, generous melody, and hand claps, all without ever sounding ingratiating or un-punk. After this, Green Day was inevitable.
36. The Cramps – “Human Fly”
The Cramps debut single was a straight-forward cover of The Trashmen’s 1963 classic, “Surfin’ Bird,” a fairly anonymous introduction to one of the most iconic bands of the era—which they never would have been if they hadn’t followed it with “Human Fly.” Obviously, The Cramps wanted to establish themselves as the aural equivalent of a cult film at a midnight drive-in, and “Human Fly” is, fittingly, a character sketch of a B-movie monster—but it does so much more than that. Steeped in the punk and garage aesthetics of their CBGB scene peers, The Cramps also openly reference ? and the Mysterians’ “96 Tears”—not only with the lyrics, but with the simple chord progression that carries the song. Plus, “Human Fly” is legitimately funny, with Lux Interior reveling in his own word-play and even pulling a bait-and-switch when his human fly turns out to be the unzipped kind.
35. Marvin Gaye – “When Did You Stop Loving Me When Did I Stop Loving You”
Of all the gut-scraping songs about the death of his marriage on Hear, My Dear, “When Did You Stop Loving Me When Did I Stop Loving You” is Marvin Gaye’s most uncomfortably beautiful. It begins with a spoken introduction by Gaye that immediately sounds emotionally off-kilter—he’s talking about marriage vows, and how the wording should be changed so that when the marriage falls apart, you haven’t lied to God. Then he lets his voice fly over some stream-of-consciousness riffing on the same subject, his vocals in constant conversation with a brilliant tenor sax solo by Charles Owens. By the time he asks the title’s question, he’s already answered it in dozens of ways.
34. Dire Straits – “Sultans of Swing”
If you close your eyes and imagine Rolling Stone publisher Jann S. Wenner’s slipperiest wet dream, the soundtrack will probably be Dire Straits. The British band have become a signifier/punchline for everything horrible about the blues-based trad rock that the venerable magazine and its disciples can’t get enough of. True to form, Dire Strait’s first truly great song, “Sultans of Swing,” is about a group of pub musicians who play Dixie and Creole music, but get no respect as an actual rock band. Of course, the real show is Mark Knopfler’s indefatigable blues rock guitar playing, which bridges the gap between Keith Richards and Stevie Ray Vaughn.
33. Bob Marley & The Wailers – “Is This Love”
There’s nothing particularly profound or political about the big hit off of Bob Marley & The Wailers’ Kaya. “Is This Love” simply picks a loping, confident groove and lets Marley ask the question, hoping for the best—being together, sharing a bed, playing some cards maybe, loving you every day and every night. Who could resist that? Guitarist Junior Marvin is the secret hero of the song, providing fluttering, bluesy licks that counter Marley’s hopeful assurance with a restless undercurrent—the heart palpitations under Marley’s alluring smile.
“Surrender” may have been Cheap Trick’s first legitimate hit, but the band was certainly prepared for it. Before they even released their first album in 1977, the band had already opened for AC/DC, Queen, and, yes, KISS (who provide the soundtrack to the song’s narrator’s parents’ make-out session.) They’d held onto “Surrender” since 1975, but didn’t record it until their third album, Heaven Tonight, and its success paved the way for their biggest triumph, the live album At Budokan (which features Robin Zander introducing “Surrender” with the “This is the first song off our new album” clip famously sampled for the Beastie Boys’ “Jimmy James.”) Maybe the move to hold off on recording “Surrender” was calculated in order to give it an appropriate audience; maybe they had an idea of the horrible power pop the immaculately written “Surrender” would inspired over the following decades—maybe they tried to contain it, and the song was just too good to be contained.
31. Boney M – “Rasputin”
Possibly the greatest disco song that uses both Serbian and Turkish folk songs to outline the romance between a hemophiliac Russian queen and her mystic lover/advisor—who was famously murdered and castrated, and whose penis has its own Wikipedia page—by a group of Caribbean transplants living in West Germany and singing in English. Ever.
30. The Rolling Stones – “Miss You”
In the mid-70’s, The Rolling Stones had to begin confronting the fact that they were no longer trendsetters. They’ve been confronting that fact ever since. When “Miss You” was released in 1978, the Stones had already fucked around a bit with dance music on their previous album, 1976’s Black and Blue, but now they also had punk rock to contend with—not to mention accusations from the punk scene and critics alike that they were too fat and rich to rock and roll. For a song like “Miss You” to be a hit in this environment, it essentially had to be everything to everyone. What’s miraculous is that it just about succeeds on all levels—as a disco jam, as rock, as a showcase for the dynamic personalities of Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and newbie guitarist Ron Wood. Plus, in its wordless refrain, “Miss You” invents a disco cat call as utterly inescapable as anything else of that era.
29. Gloria Gaynor – “I Will Survive”
Admit it. Someone, somewhere has dedicated this song to you. Gloria Gaynor’s deathless “I Will Survive” pinpoints so acutely the moment of pressing on after getting one’s heart ripped out through one’s colon, that it manages to transcend its origins as a disco crowd pleaser. It has become the boot-in-the-ass heard around the world—which is doubly amazing because, don’t forget, Gloria Gaynor is the one who got dumped. Try to imagine anyone else in the same situation convincingly pulling off the “You’re making the worst mistake of your life” argument, and you’ll realize just how much of an achievement “I Will Survive” actually is.
28. The Soft Boys – “(I Want to Be an) Anglepoise Lamp”
An Anglepoise lamp has a heavy base, and three places for the lamp to bend—at the base, in the center, and at the top. It is a dope but under-appreciated piece of office furniture—and there’s probably not much more in the way of a reason that The Soft Boys’ Robyn Hitchcock claims to want to be one on his band’s 1978 single (wait for it) “(I Want to Be an) Anglepoise Lamp.” At the time of its release, the song failed to connect with, well, just about anyone, and The Soft Boys were dropped from their label. That may be because “Anglepoise Lamp” tries to run alongside the punk scene while taking the piss out of it, beginning with the line, “Man, you’re going to be a woman someday” and only getting more inscrutable from there.
27. Steely Dan – “FM”
If the trailer is any indication, the 1978 movie FM was basically Airport set in an MOR radio station, with DJs that believed that playing music like Steve Miller Band’s “Fly Like an Eagle” or Linda Rondstat covering “Tumbling Dice” was their shot at empowering the people, maaan. Amidst all of this, Steely Dan cap off arguably the greatest six albums in six years run in history (I’m looking at you, Beatles) with their immaculate title song for the film’s soundtrack. Between the lyrics to Dire Straits’ “Sultans of Swing” and Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen advocating for reggae music and high-heeled sneakers on “FM,” there seems to be plenty of evidence that soft rock really was palpably threatened by punk. It’s not just a myth.
26. Gang of Four – “Damaged Goods”
The drum breakdown at the center of Gang of Four’s “Damaged Goods” could be dance punk’s spirit animal. Through most of the song, Andy Gill plays so sharply and precisely that he practically turns his guitar into a percussion instrument. When Hugo Burnham finally starts wailing on the drums, the song becomes about the dueling rhythms. Even John King’s singing is staccato—that is, until the middle of the song, when everything drops out except the beat. Burnham plays unaccompanied for a few seconds before King begins to sing “Damaged goods/ Send me back” while backed up with a wordless chant that’s nearly disco in its hookiness. Gang of Four only got artier and dancier after this, but “Damaged Goods” remains the most dance-punk standard bearer three decades later.
NEXT WEEK: A TV theme song, the whitest reggae ever, and the best song of 1978.
-Martin Brown, 2009
The Beast Must Die accidentally left this comment on The Police write-up, but I'll respond to it here:
"Dude. 'Big Country' is so far from being the best song on 'More songs..' Try 'Stay Hungry' or 'Warning sign'."
I mean, I honestly think that you could make an argument for most of the songs on Buildings and Food. After "Big Country," I jump to "Thank You For Sending Me an Angel" or "I'm Not In Love." But there's something about "Big Country" that strikes me in a completely different way as everything else--it manages to be wistful and ironic, which is one of the directions that David Byrne headed in that made me bond with him as a songwriter when I was a kid. I might feel differently a year from now.
Posted by: Marty | 2009.05.10 at 11:37