Pickled Priest Mixtape: Our Favorite Songs of 1972

Here's what you get in Pickled Priest's 1972: Formative favorites, later-life discoveries, lifetime companions, radio warhorses, prime-era funk 'n' soul, prog rock, reggae, and even a couple emerging genres. Is that all?Often, there's a story behind the selections. Sometimes that story is deeply personal, but every selection has personal value in one way or another. Allow us to explain. As always, literally hundreds of songs were left out. Such are the affairs of the heart.

SIDE A

26 "Road to Alaska" | The Bee Gees

The first record I fell in love with as a young boy (around nine, I estimate) was the Bee Gees' To Whom It May Concern.* The album, in truth, isn’t that great, it was just in the right place at the right time. It does contain some strong songs, like “Run to Me” and the sugary “Sea of Smiling Faces,” but it also includes the daffy “Road to Alaska,” a confused travelogue that makes me mindlessly cheerful every time I hear it mainly because it’s fun to sing along with in the car, particularly if a road trip is in the offing. We know the English band (via Australia) had an odd affinity for American geography, notably writing the hit single “Massachusetts,” without having ever set foot in the state. “Road to Alaska” takes that idea even further, using a mishmash of random US locations in its lyrics, most I assume they had not visited before either. I may be incorrect, but there are a couple reasons I believe this to be true. 1) They say they’re “on the road to Alaska, nowhere near Nebraska” which is an odd thing to point out even if it is factual, so surely an easy rhyme must’ve been the sole motivation behind mentioning it. 2) Somewhere along the "Road to Alaska," they inexplicably end up in Cincinnati, which is hard to reconcile logistically. Looks like somebody made a wrong right turn about 3,000 miles back and never self-corrected. Again, my assumption is an attractive syllable count (Cincinnati has a nice rhythm to it) and/or a cheap rhyme with “happy” was to blame. In retrospect, I can see why I was so enamored with the song—there's nothing much to it, really—which can also be said about me back then. A work in progress to say the least.

*One of the great generic album titles ever.

25 "Operator (That's Not the Way It Feels)" | Jim Croce

I imagine you have stories about how and when you first discovered your favorite artists. We all do. Perhaps it was the usual way, a song played on the radio or on the family hi-fi by a parent or older sibling, but maybe you have a few that aren't so typical, too. Jim Croce was one of those artists that came into my life from an odd source. My parents booked us a stay at a family resort in Northern Illinois, one of those all-inclusive deals which seemed like a scaled down version of those famous resorts operating in the Catskills from the 1920s until the early-1970s*: unlimited food, games, crafts, tennis, golf—you name it, it was included. I thought it was pretty amazing. That it was actually kind of a dump didn't register with me at the time, especially considering the availability of chocolate pudding and a pool with a slide (my only requirements). Well, the lodge also had an end-of-week talent show for the guests and it was a pretty farcical affair until a young girl (I'm gonna guess 8 or 9 years old) came to the stage with a giant acoustic guitar (compared to her) and knocked out Jim Croce's "Time in a Bottle," a song with which I was unfamiliar at the time. Even then, I knew a great song when I heard one, and I immediately sought out the original. Thankfully, we had His Greatest Hits at home already. Which is also when I also discovered "Operator," my personal favorite Croce song. Just like the song from the talent show, his songs hinged primarily on his guitar and his voice. I've always been amazed at his ability to say so much, even draw a tear, in such a spare setting. To this day I relish an artist who can do the same thing. This song also makes me wish we still had sympathetic telephone operators to call when we need to talk to someone.

*Check out the charming documentary Welcome to the Kutsher's: The Last Catskills Resort to see what I mean.

24 "Treat Her Like a Lady" | Cornelius Brothers & Sister Rose

The two Cornelius Brothers, Eddie and Carter, joined up with their sister Rose in 1971 and then shot their entire wad by the end of 1972 with two million-selling hits under their belt, the soul classic “Treat Her Like a Lady” and the more subdued “Too Late to Turn Back Now,” each great in their own way. Other than some minor blips here and there, and the addition of second sister Billie Jo, that was it. Off the radar, career pretty much over. But how great to have a “Treat Her Like a Lady” to pay the bills for the rest of your lives, a real juicy slab of vintage R&B with a succulent groove and some of my favorite backing vocals ever. Just once, I’d like to be tucked stage right chiming in the perfectly timed interjections, which provide just the right amount of extra spunk to every line of the chorus. I also dig that this song advocated for the proper R-E-S-P-E-C-T for the opposite sex. Aretha must’ve been beaming when she first heard this one on the radio. 

23 "Supersonic Rocket Ship" | The Kinks

I don’t know how they do it, but the Kinks always seem to slip a song onto every mixtape from any year where they released an album, even if that album isn’t considered one of their classics, such as their 1972 record, Everybody’s in Show-Biz. While it did contain the Kinks classic “Celluloid Heroes,” my real affection is for “Supersonic Rocket Ship” a couple songs earlier on side two. This whimsical little rocket ride is no Blue Origin/Elon Musk deal that caters to billionaire wives and overrated pop stars either. Instead, Ray Davies promises, “Nobody needs to be hip, nobody needs to be out of sight, nobody has to travel second class, there’ll be equality, no suppression of minorities…” In other words, space travel for the commoners! The same people the Kinks have celebrated regularly in their music for most of their career. This ride sounds a lot more fun, too. A total hoot.

22 "Something Fine" | Jackson Browne

I saw Jackson do this song back-to-back with “Looking Into You” at a concert once and in a set full of hits, several of them taken from the same debut album—“Doctor, My Eyes,” “Rock Me on the Water,” “Jamaica Say You Will”—what stands out decades later is that quiet eight-minute span behind his grand piano. You could hear a pin drop in the theater. Never has a song made me want to go somewhere quite the same way as this one does.

Now if you see Morocco I know you'll go in style

I may not see Morocco for a little while

But while you're there I was hoping you might keep it in your mind

To save me just a taste of something fine

21 "Everybody Plays the Fool" | The Main Ingredient

To this day, I don’t know what else is on the group's Bitter Sweet album, for in 1972 it was all about the 45 single for most kids, me included (kinda like it is now, albeit in a different format). The Main Ingredient's "Everybody Plays the Fool" is one of the very first singles I remember purchasing back in the day and it has that playful, open-air spaciousness that was favored by AM radio in the 70s so it sounded good on everything from a transistor radio to a high wattage sound system. In fact, for a soul trio (Cuba Gooding Sr. on lead vocals!), it was remarkably lightweight, like it was going to float away if not held in place by a relaxing paperweight melody. But there was no denying the message, applicable to every man, woman, and child. It made so much sense and it has such a broad appeal you could almost overlook how well-written the song was. A true smooth soul platter in every way with an irresistible hook that I’ve loved since I first started getting into music.   

20 "I Feel Like Breaking Up Somebody's Home Tonight" | Ann Peebles

"Breaking Up Somebody's Home" | Albert King

I’m including two 1972 versions of this song (with slightly differing titles), written by Tim Matthews and legendary Stax drummer Al Jackson Jr., because each offers a slightly different yet still sinister perspective on a similar theme—the desire to sabotage your ex's new relationship just because you can. Either way, it’s downright dastardly. Ann's is my favorite of the two on most days because a woman plotting her revenge is more compelling to me somehow. Perhaps I just expect more maturity from the fairer sex. Ann's vocal seems downright ominous here: at home alone, likely a few drinks into it, concocting a revenge plot that she may or may not put into action. We don’t know if she will yet, but she seems confident enough to pull it off. Albert’s version has a more bluesy feel, predictably, but his also has a more palpable threat implied. I don’t think he’s having an existential crisis at all. You get the feeling he’s already got one foot out the door.

19 "Re-Make/Re-Model" | Roxy Music

I have seen my rock and roll future and its name is Roxy Music. I say that fifty years late because I didn't say it back in 1972. I was far too young for Roxy Music in the 70s, so I forgive myself. I never would've understood them anyway. All I know now is that "Re-Make/Re-Model" and the whole of the band's debut album still sounds ahead of its time over 50 years later (confirmed by their 50th Anniversary Tour no less). Many of the things I look for in music now can be found on this 1972 record and that fact blows me away: adventurousness, ambition, artfulness, noise, and experimentation all within the context of real, raw rock and roll songs. All this from a song with a license plate in its chorus: CPL 593H! I'm soon going to be compiling my favorite "Album One, Song One" playlist (inspired by High Fidelity) and "Re-Make/Re-Model" will be on it, mainly because my rock and roll future is much clearer to me now than it used to be.

18 "Golden Country" | REO Speedwagon

If you think REO is for wimps, you may have a point. Especially if your line of demarcation is 1980. I'm a proud lover of High Fidelity anyway, but I won't go much later than that. Real fans know that before they exploded commercially, they could bring the rock and roll in a big way. Witness the absolutely electric power of 1972's “Golden Country,” a song that simmers and boils with more raw anger and intensity than many critically approved bands of the era. On top of that, the song takes no prisoners lyrically. Kevin Cronin joined just in time for this album and believe it or not he had some balls on him then and didn't just sing about unrequited love or losing his girl to a "tough guy." Instead, the song takes on American greed, systemic poverty and hunger, racial inequality, sex crimes, housing discrimination, and the marginalized in general, all while rocking the fuck out like a true rock band. They were woke long before woke was even a thing. Oh, and the chorus is a monster, a plea for action to everyone listening: The time has come for you my friend / To all this ugliness we must put an end / Before we leave we must make a stand. Imagine living in 1972 and having all these problems. I'm so happy we don't have to deal with any of these issues today.

17 "Thick as a Brick" | Jethro Tull

Why yes, the whole goddamned thing, thank you very much! OK, I'll negotiate with you a bit. Let's limit it to a still mixtape sabotaging Side A only, but I will not go below 22-minutes and change and I'm certainly not down for the 3:00 radio edit, a progtrocity of the most heinous kind. We demand that our high concept wankery stay as close to the source material as is reasonable possible. And believe me, I was this close to jamming ELP's "Trilogy" on here as well, and trust me, I would've if space wasn't at such a premium in 1972. If you insist on giving me any grief, I'm going to retroactively add Genesis's 22-minute "Supper's Ready" as punitive damages. So be thankful this epic Tull track is all you get this time. And, by Pickled Priest mandate, I must say this: Put Jethro Tull in the Motherfucking Rock Hall already, you fucking bastards!! In no world should Foo Fighters get in before Jethro Tull. Are we all insane?

16 "Italian Girls" | Rod Stewart

When I was younger and had no spending money, I used to tape "The Midnight Album" on a Chicago radio station because it was an easy way to educate myself on rock history. I'd wait patiently for the DJ to stop introducing the album of the night with my finger hovering over the "record" button of my tape deck, then I would spring into action with precision to catchy the first note. Sometimes, I'd get a little DJ bleed on those tapes, but it didn't matter, I had most of the album free and clean. Rod's Never a Dull Moment was one of my most successful bootlegs and one of the albums I was most fascinated with mainly because many of the songs didn't seem like conventional songs at all. They were chorus-less yarns set to music told by the coolest bloke in the pub. Two of those songs opened the record, "True Blue" and "Lost Paraguayos," both fabulous, but my personal favorite remains "Italian Girls," which tells the tale of Rod meeting a girl at an auto show in Turin, Italy who "...was tall, thin, and tawny and drove a Maserati, faster than sound..." a couplet I particularly loved. It just seemed so exotic to an impressionable young music lover wearing headphones in his basement bedroom. Oddly, Rod would never cut another record or write another song quite this loose and unstructured again. Too bad, I like this version of him.

15 "I'll Take You There" | The Staple Singers

This is Mavis Staples at the top of her game, belting it out under the influence of a higher power, but fully aware of how things are done down here on planet Earth. The M.O. of the Staple Singers in general was to exhort black people to lift themselves up in the present with the understanding that their ultimate future was secure in the arms of God. "I'll Take You There" is an incantation, an invocation, a conjuration, a declaration, and a celebration all at once. It's gospel in every sense of the word, complete with a singer who seems to be channeling a divine message much like a baptist preacher, but the trick is that is was veiled just enough to get on secular radio. But rest assured, we all knew what they were singing about.

14 "Midnite Cruiser" | Steely Dan

I've no time for Steely Dan haters. Especially when considering the deep magnificence of their first record, Can't Buy a Thrill. I've always respected artists who sound nothing like anyone else, so why should that not extend to these early purveyors of sophisticated, fussed-over, jazz-pop-lite? It's the same thing as picking on higher education these days like that's a bad thing. Fuck 'em all. No need to dumb yourselves down to appease the masses. When the line "Where is your bounty of fortune and fame?" appears in the middle of "Midnite Cruiser" the answer is clear. It's in songs like "Do It Again," "Dirty Work," "Reelin' in the Years," and "Only a Fool Would Say That" among others. Let's face it, this is pretty much a greatest hits record. The reason I ended up here, with "Midnite Cruiser," is mainly because I love how the beginning features the meeting of two old friends getting together one more time to "let your madness run with mine," even if the world may have left them behind when they weren't paying attention. Have you ever felt such chemistry with a friend? That spark you don't get with anyone else? Even if diluted by time, it's still there. I guarantee you, the madness is still in there somewhere.

SIDE B

13 "Superfly" | Curtis Mayfield

Perhaps the movie didn't deserve such an amazing soundtrack, but we'll take it anyway. That said, it did feature the adventures of a badass cocaine dealer named Youngblood Priest, which would've also made a great name for this blog. Feel free to use it. The title track of the film is what I have now dubbed "Ultimate R&B," a song which combines a little of everything that's great about black music of the era: Temptations psych, Stax toughness, Marvin Gaye's Motown cool, and raw 1970's funk all in once silk-suited package. Which is not to say Curtis's music is derivative, just that he was present for all of it and often was the inspiration for it. A true innovator and musical genius. There are only a few falsettos I can handle in bulk and Curtis possesses one of them. It's the perfect counter to everything going on in the background, especially when the moral of the story is "do or die." Super fly is, coincidentally, the perfect way to describe this song.

12 "Baby Boomerang" | T. Rex

Give me all the trashy glam swagger ya got, Marc Bolan! You['re] talking with your boots and you're walking with your mouth! That's nonsensical glam genius is what it is (Marc Bolan's 115th dream?) and there's an orgy of it throughout 1972's The Slider, a record I love even more than the previous year's Electric Warrior. I mean, take your pick of any song and don't look back, but for me "Baby Boomerang" really shifts my attitude into a previously unknown gear. I love singing along to extemporaneous sounding lyrics like those found here, in fact that's why my blog is named Pickled Priest in the first place, after another song (The Who's "Athena") with ridiculous, cracked-off lyrics sung like there's absolutely nothing peculiar going on whatsoever. Windows down, volume up, people. Or don't you want to be the coolest cat in your neighborhood?

11 "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" | Looking Glass

Oh, Brandy, my fine girl, thank you for inspiring this AM radio sea shanty, no matter how misguided the love of your life may be. I mean, given the choice between the girl and the sea, you take the girl, right? I suppose that sentiment is informed by a guy who needed a Dramamine to stomach the water rides at Great America as a child, but still, I don't get it. This song is a storytelling masterclass, touching on just enough detail to provide us with a fully fleshed-out narrative in just about three-minutes. The scene is set, the love story is established, the climax heartbreaking, but thankfully the chorus almost makes you forget all that. Before I head out to sea again, I leave you with my favorite moment in the song: Brandy wears a braided chain, made of finest silver from the north of Spain / A locket...that bears the name, of the man that Brandy loved. There's a slight pregnant pause after "A locket..." that slays me every time, almost like the song is trying to collect itself before moving on. This song could me made into a major motion picture feature right now, but Hollywood would probably make us change the ending to get it made. And that would ruin it.

10 "Rocks Off" | The Rolling Stones

Any old way you choose it, as Chuck Berry would say. You don't pick a song from Exile On Main Street, you just don't. You grab them by the bushelful and run. So don't take this as an endorsement of one song per se, but as a placeholder representation of a masterpiece. That said, I would argue "Rocks Off" has everything that defines the Stones in one killer single and I would be right. But I could make the same argument for the rest of the songs on the album as well.

09 "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" | Elton John

I've spent a lot of time reading Bernie Taupin's words with an eye toward their poetic value, agnostic to the melodies that would eventually bring them to life. It's challenging, especially when the songs are as weaved into the fabric of music history as those on Elton's classic Honky Chateau album from 1972. You cannot help but read them with a musical mindset so engrained are they in our subconscious. If you sit down and read Bernie's lyrics to "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" you'll discover the high-level brilliance of a master wordsmith, but you'll also find yourself in awe at Elton's sheer compositional brilliance. Not in a million years would I read Bernie's words and hear this melody with these changes sung in this way. And that's the magic of their partnership, at its absolute peak in the early 1970s.

08 "The Harder They Come" | Jimmy Cliff

On the short list of the greatest soundtrack songs of all-time, Jimmy Cliff's "The Harder They Come" is an axiom in full color, unabashed, unrepentant, strong-willed, and unforgiving. All set to that evergreen reggae riddim that makes everything go down much easier. The song exists on the in-between; we have a limited time to make our mark on this planet so we should make the most of it, but it's also survival of the fittest and not everyone will survive long enough to get that chance.

07 "Let's Stay Together" | Al Green

If Al Green wants to stay together, you stay together. End of discussion. Who are you to question someone with such a smooth voice and pure heart? It's yet another song in Al’s secular arsenal that could be converted to non-secular if the word “Lord” is substituted for the word “baby” throughout. I do think his work on both sides of that fence was equally effective, but his brand of unbridled joy was needed way more by the sinners than it was by the saints.

06 "Watch the Sunrise" | Big Star

The sun abides! When I placed “September Gurls” #1 on my Favorite Songs of 1974 mixtape, I mentioned how its opening guitar chords could immediately transport me to a specific time and evoke a specific mood—a kind of Indian summer melancholy. The feeling was palpable. Well, two years earlier, Big Star did the exact same thing with “Watch the Sunrise,” from their absolutely loaded first album, #1 Record (how’s that for optimistic!). Despite the presence of numerous rock standards throughout the album, particularly on Side A, I again land deep on Side B for my representative from the album (“September Gurls” also a late-Side B masterpiece). Again, the song gives me that same peaceful feeling, neither bad nor good. It just revels in its time, enjoying what is given without demanding anything more. The guitar again makes me yearn for that feeling no matter where I’m at when I hear it. The vocal just perfect; there, but not invasive, not anything more than it should be. This proves that Big Star’s magic was right there for all to see on day one.

05 "You're So Vain" | Carly Simon

On my shortlist of songs with the best opening lines is “You walked into the party / Like you were walking onto a yacht / Your hat strategically dipped below one eye / Your scarf it was apricot.” You can vividly picture the douchebag in your mind, working the crowd, flattering the ladies. And then it continues to make us hate the guy even more: “You had one eye in the mirror as you watched yourself gavotte.” If you’re wondering, the first apricot/gavotte rhyme in music history and the first use of the word “gavotte” ever, which is a French dance if you must know. But let’s face it, the guy had game and he wasn’t afraid to wield his substantial powers over the opposite sex, even if it meant breaking the hearts of his naïve lovers now and then. Carly was just another notch on his belt, it turns out, and she’s not particularly pleased, which can be told right from the beginning when she whispers “Son of a gun” under her breath as he arrives in all his self-loving splendor. All this and we haven’t even hit the song’s iconic chorus yet—one that everybody knows by heart after one listen. The target? Well, this was the 70s, so she couldn’t have known about Trump yet, but there were countless actors, rockers, and rich pricks around back then to fuel rampant speculation for decades until Carly clarified that the second verse, at least, was about Warren Beatty, which makes perfect sense. A bit of a pretty boy he was, at least at the time. She’s said two others inspired the remaining verses, but she ain’t naming names. Perhaps saving such tasty morsels for her deathbed. The lyrics paint quite a pretentious picture of a guy who never loses and has no moral conscience: "You gave away the things you loved, and one of them was me." Objectively, a brilliant line. And elsewhere, there's not a word out of place, even when she shoehorns a rhyme of Saratoga and Nova Scotia near the end.     

04 "Sail Away" | Randy Newman

The album Sail Away is more important to me than about 99.999% of all other albums made. Newman’s genius is stamped all over it. I could write a book about it. In fact, I just read Robert Hilburn’s bio of Newman, A Few Words in Defense of Our Country (a timely title), and it’s a must read; a portrait of a uniquely gifted and brilliant musical mind emerges that was so undeniable his record label gave him free creative reign even when his initial sales weren't as expected. Imagine, after an album that didn't sell, checking in with a song like "Sail Away," a privileged white guy's ballad about the devious practices used to lure Africans into the American slave trade. That's gold, baby! Start printing the money! I doubt this song would've been released today. Newman's genius was to take such a powerful subject and turn it into a song with a beautiful melody and a sweeping chorus. If you didn't pay attention that's all you'd hear, but as with everything Randy Newman, the real reward is underneath all that.

03 "Use Me" | Bill Withers

I used her, she used me, but neither one cared

We were gettin' our share

-"Night Moves" by Bob Seger

Hey, there's nothing wrong with a little consensual abuse in the afternoon and maybe a bit more in the evening (to paraphrase Nick Cave's "Go Tell the Women"). As long as you're both good with it, so should everybody else be. And frankly, sometimes keeping things fresh is worth the calculated risk. Others may not understand, but while it's nice to have friends and family looking out for your well-being ("My friends feel it's their appointed duty..." is one of my favorite opening lyrics ever), at some point it's your life and you'll do what you want, to paraphrase yet again, this time the Animals. Bring in one of the 1970's greatest funk hooks to support the theory, and in my mind, the case should be behind closed doors from now on. Use him up!

02 "Papa Was a Rollin' Stone" | The Temptations

It was the 3rd of September, that day I'll always remember.

This, perhaps the ultimate Father's Day track, sprawls out for almost a full two-minutes (longer on the album version) before the story begins. Why? Perhaps, that's the time needed to figure out how to explain the life of an absentee father to his young son. It's delicate territory to say the least, but if the boy wants the whole truth, the truth it shall be. She listens patiently as he presents the "street view" of his father one repulsive rumor at a time, but her response is refreshingly unvarnished and succinct. You surely know the whole chorus by now, but the only line that's truly important is the last one: "And when he died / All he left us was alone." Admittedly, sometimes the insistent groove of the song and its funky chorus can cause us to forget that the Norman Whitfield/Barrett Strong-penned Motown classic is actually just one tragic story from a community plagued by fatherless children and single mothers. I was obviously joking when I called this the "ultimate Father's Day track" earlier. In truth, it may actually be the ultimate Mother's Day track. Here, she's the hero of the story. Holding down the fort, making ends meet, handling the tough questions, telling the God's honest truth.

01 "Superstition" | Stevie Wonder

Suffice it to say, my 1972 playlist singlehandedly opens and closes the argument for the continued viability of the electric clavinet in rock and soul music. The instrument, a small keyboard (Casio-esque) played by hitting tensioned strings with a keystroke, was used to spectacular effect on our #3 song, "Use Me" by Bill Withers, and now here it is again in "Superstition," the greatest clavinet song of all-time by some distance. The instrument was quite simply reinvented and dominated by Stevie Wonder in the early 70s, inspiring countless funk songs to follow suit. After a spare opening ten seconds featuring a basic drum beat, Stevie lays down the track's irresistible rubberband groove, becoming one of the most iconic musical passages of all time in the process. There's simply no human on this planet who doesn't respond to it. I've never seen it happen and don't expect to for the rest of my days.

__________________________

Sad to leave the 70s. I want to live here forever. But duty calls. See you in another decade soon.

Cheers,

The Priest