Pickled Priest Mixtape: Our Favorite Songs of 1976

Don't you dare tell me the Ramones aren't making the cut!

PICKLED PRIEST'S FAVORITE SONGS OF 1976

Bicentennial Bloodbath. No, not a cult slasher movie, but it should've been. That's what it was like at the Pickled Priest's offices this week when the year 1976 was introduced as the next installment in our yearly mixtape series. You absolutely would not believe what was left on the cutting room floor this time. It's mind-blowing and embarrassing is what it is. That said, we would've had difficulty narrowing it down to 100 songs, let alone 26. In the end, formative memories and personal experiences trumped classic status, critical credibility, or delicious obscurities.

Oh, and I just couldn't pick just one Ramones song. They all belong together.

SIDE A

26 "Everybody Loves the Sunshine" | Roy Ayers Ubiquity

On which Roy creates a vibe more than a conventional song. Its laconic, hypnotic groove seems created not for the heat, but by the heat. It becomes one with its subject matter—summer in the city, heat on skin, open hydrants, minimal clothing—and just shimmers in the warm sunshine for the duration, unable to find shade anywhere. I wish there was an extended version of this song that loops from sunrise to sundown.

25 "Ain't That a Bitch" | Johnny "Guitar" Watson

Best known for “Space Guitar,” his reverb-heavy, gravity-defying instrumental from 1954 (then known as Young John Watson), Johnny evolved from a blues-guitar innovator into a very un-PC (see album cover above) funk pimp in the 70s. Why? For the same reason humans evolved from apes—you gotta pay the bills, baby. If you can get by the cover-art imagery, which is as subtle as a Howitzer, there’s some wicked-hot guitar showmanship to be found throughout Watson's oeuvre. They don't just issue nicknames without any reason, y'know. “Ain’t That a Bitch” is a funky-ass workout that provides a multi-purpose platform for any number of situations where a kiss-off may be in order. A reckless driver cuts you off one moment, but gets pulled over by the cops the next? “Ain’t that a bitch!”  You’re at the post office and you get the last book of Ring-Necked Duck stamps that are now out of print so no one else in your town can have them? Er—why not?—“Ain’t that a bitch!”  And don't tell me that doesn't feel good. Cuz it duz.

24 "Love and Affection" | Joan Armatrading

There are several instances of family influence on this mixtape and the appearance of Joan Armatrading here is one of them. There are some benefits to being the youngest child other than getting away with murder. I first heard this song emanating from my sister’s bedroom and while I wasn’t a seasoned listener then, I was still subconsciously logging in choruses, voices, riffs, and hooks of note for later use, even if I didn’t know it at the time. With the sultry opening, “I am not in love, but I’m open to persuasion,” I can now see why it took a while to appreciate “Love and Affection.” Let's face it, it’s not a song a pre-teen Kiss fan could have possibly understood at the time. Years later, the song circled back to me and it was only then that I realized what a subtle wonder it is, with Armatrading's vocals playing footloose and fancy-free, equal parts soulful pop and improvised late-night jazz. Add a sophisticated sax solo and a cool baritone background vocal from Clarke Peters (later a character actor most known for his roles in The Wire and Treme), and you've got yourself one stimulating afternoon of sweet lovemaking on your speakers. I mean, why settle for love or affection when you can have love and affection?

23 "Get Closer" | Seals & Crofts

There are certain songs that define 70s AM radio for me and “Get Closer” is one of them. The song preached a form of low-grade common sense and held you to the end with a simple, featherweight melody. It was hard to argue with anything found in the lyrics. Darlin' if you want me to be / Closer to you / Get closer to me! Why didn't I think of that? If you want me to love only you / Then love only me! Of course! Could it be that easy? The song continues in this vein throughout, which is one of the big reasons, I suspect, that it hooked so many people. It was easy on the ears and the mind. And in the 70s, you had to give a song space to breathe so it would still sound good on a transistor radio or shitty car stereo. "Get Closer" is a near perfect song that puts a distinctive stamp on a very specific time in my existence.

22 "I'm Going Down" | Rose Royce

The soundtrack to Car Wash is criminally underrated, always missing when lists of the great movie soundtracks are made. Maybe people view it as a one-song wonder, the title-track being one of those #1 smash-hits that everyone knows. I get it. But if that's where you leave it you are missing a real treat. This Norman Whitfield production was deep, generating not only three top-ten hits, but a bunch of killer off-tracks as well ("Yo Yo" alone is worth the price of the record). Whitfield had just signed Rose Royce to his new record label (after leaving Motown) and decided to tap them right away for a soundtrack project, installing a powerful lead singer he discovered, Gwen Dickey (aka Rose Norwalt), at the helm. I'm pretty sure it's the greatest debut that was also a movie soundtrack in music history (mainly because I can't think of another one that qualifies). "I'm Going Down," a showcase for Dickey, is one of the great undervalued soul ballads in my opinion, with Gwen delivering a vocal, complete with mid-song tears, that'll leave you gasping for air as you listen to her heart swirl slowly down the drain of love.

21 "Keep Your Eye on the Sparrow (Baretta's Theme)" | Sammy Davis Jr.

I loved the grittiness of Baretta back when I was a kid. It was surely the most realistic crime show on TV at the time. Tony Baretta was a strong, rough and tumble fireplug of a cop with a parrot named Fred* frequently seen perched on his shoulder inside his shitty sty of an apartment. He routinely tapped into a bunch of unreliable friends and eccentric informants to get the case solved—characters one can only find in the back alleys of New York City circa the mid-70s. A cop like that needed a streetwise theme song to go along with his ass-kicking image and they found one in Sammy Davis Jr.’s version of “Keep Your Eye on the Sparrow,” a recording that featured the backing of a funky Latin rock band named El Chicano. Their music oozed the sound of the streets, bringing the eclectic areas of the city to life, while Sammy brought the city slicker cool that made him a staple on the Vegas strip in its early years. The song was also a primer on how to survive in the gritty city, especially if you’re a criminal being chased by a no-nonsense cop. A few tips...

Don’t go to bed with a price on your head

Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time

Don’t roll the dice if you can’t pay the price

Don’t run your feet down no dead-end street

To “Keep Your Eye on the Sparrow” basically meant that if you're going to live a life of crime, you had better keep focused on your goal and don’t slip up. In other words, be smart motherfucker, or your ass could end up in jail. In the end, the song and the show were the perfect match; without a doubt one of the greatest TV theme songs ever recorded.**

*His Triton cockatoo was actually played by twin birds named Lalah and Weird Harold. Why they didn’t keep the name Weird Harold in the show is lost to time, but it’s an objectively great name for a character in a cop show like this one. Maybe Lalah was the jealous type.

**It killed me not to include "Welcome Back" by John Sebastian on this list as well, but there wasn't enough room. It also demands its place in the Greatest TV Theme Songs Hall of Fame. Plus, I was an even bigger fan of Welcome Back Kotter than I was of Baretta.

20 "Crazy On You" | Heart

Nancy Wilson’s sublime, unofficially-titled “Silver Wheels” intro to “Crazy On You” is one of the most inspired creative decisions in 1970s rock and roll. The transition from her miraculous (and complex) acoustic solo into the meat of the song begins at the 0:37 mark with Nancy hard-strumming the song’s iconic intro, then giving way to an epic electric guitar riff gives me goosebumps each and every time it appears. The wait is almost unbearable, like a rollercoaster slowly climbing to its apex. The same concept it accomplished with Ann’s astonishing vocal. Like Nancy, she enters peacefully and sweetly, almost toying with you, holding back the payoff even though she knows you want it, and then she too suddenly explodes alongside the very same riff that blew a hole in the song earlier. This song features a genius level control and release on multiple levels and its domination over me gives me exquisite pleasure every time I hear it.

19 "Too Old to Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young to Die" | Jethro Tull

I grew up in a progressive household. Not in our politics, but in our rock and roll. I’m not talking about my parents either, rather my brother. He was a lover of bands like Emerson, Lake & Palmer, Yes, and Jethro Tull back in the 70s and I glommed onto them via osmosis. I'll always have a sweet spot for the grandeur of prog even though I normally prefer my rock and roll raw and unpolished. Ironically, Jethro Tull was a prog band that looked backward for their inspiration in lieu of a more futuristic sound. The 18th century to be exact, which is where they found their band name in the first place. To this day, I love everything Tull, even the lesser albums, including the unfairly dismissed Too Old to Rock ‘n’ Roll: Too Young to Die! (exclamation used in the album title, but not in the song title). The album’s title-track is one of those songs that embodies the ‘It’s better to burn out than fade away’ rock and roll aesthetic favored by many a young rocker. Ironically, few bands seem to want to admit they are too old to rock and roll anymore and in some cases that’s proven to be a good thing. In most cases, however, it is not. Then again, nobody back in the 70s was banking on the level of nostalgia the world would hold for the glory days of rock music that we now see in the year 2026. These days, we see rock stars touring well into their 80s, playing the old hits for aging fans who insist their heroes haven’t lost a step over the years despite the fact they had to play half the set sitting down. Here, back in 1976, Ian Anderson tells us the story of a "fictional" rocker (clearly based on himself) that finds he's too old to rock and roll, but far too young to die, dealing poorly with his slow fade into irrelevance (in comic book format, which I loved as a kid). It’s kind of a sad, pathetic tale until the very end, when the main character finally figures out that, “No, you’re never too old to rock and roll if you’re too young to die.” At that realization, the song accelerates, seemingly energized by the new revelation. As I myself age rapidly, I’m counting on him being right.

18 "Tom Traubert's Blues (Four Sheets to the Wind in Copenhagen)" | Tom Waits

In my mind, the quintessential Tom Waits song. Lonely, drunk, heartbroken, beaten down by life, unlucky at love, destined to go it alone like an aimless drifter. It pretty much checks all the requisite boxes. The basic facts behind the song are readily available on the internet: Traubert was a guy Waits knew of that died in prison after a hard life. “Waltzing Matilda” is Australian slang for a wayward hobo (and a good one, too). Almost immediately, the song became a de facto anthem for lost souls everywhere, which aligns well with Waits' established persona and was the start of a new artistic direction for Tom, particularly when it came to his vocal style. To me, this song sounds like a drunk sat down at a saloon piano and started playing and singing, unaware the whole place has stopped to listen to his strangely moving back-alley poetry. It makes you want to dust him off, get him a cup of hot coffee, give him a warm meal, and buy him a plane ticket back home.

17 "Back in the Saddle" | Aerosmith

Has anyone used a single word in a song with more gusto than Steven Tyler singing "back!" in "Back in the Saddle"? I seriously doubt it. His scream just hits the feeling and intent dead on. He wants to announce his return in no uncertain terms. To what, I don't know, but I doubt it's really a saloon in Deadwood. Tyler does loves his double-entendres after all, as everyone who's heard one Aerosmith song knows. Too bad Instagram wasn’t around in Michael Jordan’s heyday, because his famed “I’m back” fax when he un-retired would’ve been much more dramatic as an Insta or Tik Tok post with this song playing in the background. Tyler’s wail is the ultimate “I was down, but I’m not out” declaration. I’ve used it on numerous occasions in my own way. After a three-day battle with the flu, on my way into work after a week off, with my first beer after recovering from a massive hangover. Its utility is endless. There are very few vocals who can bring such nastiness with a single word. It’s the reason I keep coming back to it.

16 "Rock & Roll Band" | Boston

Write about what you know. That’s what they always tell aspiring writers. Which is why we have so many songs about being in a rock and roll band. Some act as reality checks (“Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page,” AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top”), others warn of the potential hazards ahead (“Have a Cigar” by Pink Floyd, Jackson Browne’s “The Road”), and some end tragically (Neil Young's "The Needle and the Damage Done," Bad Company’s “Shooting Star”), but most still give the impression that the joy of playing music is still worth the risk. That said, I do love those songs that chronicle only the positive side of the rock and roll lifestyle, where everything is done for the love of the music and any possible downsides haven’t revealed themselves yet (“We’re An American Band” by Grand Funk or "Rock and Roll All Nite" by Kiss). “Rock and Roll Band,” from Boston’s ubiquitous debut album (to this day, I’ve never seen a record collection without it), is another. It’s a love letter to being in a band and achieving some success along the way. But success redefined. Success can mean playing in a small town in Massachusetts or a tiny gig in Rhode Island. It can mean just being in a band with your buddies. For many bands, that's where it might end. Things do eventually work out in this instance and later in the song, the single line “Oh, sign a record company contract!" is sung in a high pitch, almost like they can’t believe it is actually happening to them. You can feel the elation and promise in the air. And that’s where it ends, thankfully. No nightmare descent into drugs and alcohol, no Fentanyl overdose, no band infighting. Just the joy of being in a band with a bright yet unknown future ahead. 

15 "Beautiful Noise" | Neil Diamond

The second song on this list inspired by my sister’s record collection, I am a proud, card-carrying, unabashed Neil Diamond fan and I don’t care who knows it. I love pretty much all of it; all the cheese, all the overemoting, the blown kisses after every song, everything. With the exception of “Sweet Caroline” perhaps, a great song ruined by relentless, robotic abuse at every sporting event worldwide. One thing was for sure: the women loved Neil. My mom and sister (and mother-in-law) were no exception, but I soon started to appreciate his natural talent for songwriting and performing. I can’t think of any concert I've seen that had the same dynamic as a Neil Diamond show. It's what I image Elvis was like in the early 70s. He was one of one—his own boutique industry. One giant boutique. “Beautiful Noise” was a love song to music and I’ve always been drawn to songs that celebrate the magic of making it (“I Write the Songs,” “Sir Duke,” “Drift Away,” et al.). This one was the first one to put into words what I have felt from a very young age.

14 "Devil Woman" | Cliff Richard

A chart legend in the UK (15 #1 singles, 69 in the Top 10), a passing fancy in the US (0 #1 singles, 3 in the Top 10), Cliff came up with a couple killer AM radio tracks in the second half of the 70s even though his prime years were generally considered to be well behind him. Both songs are among my favorite 70’s hits. “We Don’t Talk Anymore” found success in the US, hitting #7 on the Billboard Top 10 in 1979. “Devil Woman,” hit #6 three years earlier in 1976 making it his highest charting US single ever. “Devil Woman” is a genius idea for a pop song. Guy gets the whammy put on him by a cat with green eyes, goes to a voodoo psychic for a potion to break the spell, then realizes it was the psychic who was responsible for the spell to begin with! Diabolical! Equally diabolical is the song’s hook, which casts a spell of its own on anyone who listens. You can’t escape it. If you try, it will find you. It will get you from behind!

SIDE B

13 "The Rubberband Man" | The Spinners

Get out of here with that single edit, my misguided friend, for only the long version will do. That goes without saying, I hope. Just like the rubber band itself, it’s more fun when you stretch this song out as far as it can reasonably go. The Spinners’ funky tale of the "The Rubberband Man," a musician known throughout the land for stretching a large rubber band between his two big toes and toe jamming with his band onstage, is as groovy and elastic as its title promises. Only Bootsy Collins, leader of the funkiest Rubber Band in the world, would fully understand the get-down possibilities of such an instrument.

12 "Silver, Blue & Gold" | Bad Company

I’ve always wondered why this song isn’t held in as high esteem as some other Bad Company classics. It’s my personal favorite of all their songs, plucked from side two of the HOF band’s third record, Run With the Pack. The cover of the album was silver for good reason. Because of this song. Of all the catchy choruses Bad Co. wrote back in the 70s, none are better than “Silver, Blue and Gold.” It soars and arcs through the clouds like a rainbow that’s overdue, to paraphrase the lyrics. You can feel the heartache in the vocals, which lament the loss of a love presumed permanent. As the song builds and builds a final one-kneed plea is offered, ‘Don’t forsake me cause I love you’ . It's positively dramatic and surely futile, but it was worth a shot.

11 "Mohammed's Radio" | Warren Zevon

Don't it make you want to rock and roll

All night long

Mohammed's Radio

I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful

On the radio, Mohammed's Radio

Ah, the redemptive, healing power of rock 'n' roll. I assume you've experienced it. Whenever life gets you down, turn to the radio and maybe you'll find a song that'll alter your perspective a little bit, even if it’s only temporary. Who was Mohammed in this scenario you ask? Conventional explanations tell us Zevon saw a guy dressed as an Arab on Halloween and he was holding a radio to his ear, listening to music as he walked. That sounds as plausible as anything else you could tell me about a Warren Zevon song.

10 "I Wish" | Stevie Wonder

Where did Stevie find this insidious rubber band groove? Maybe the better question is how did he find it? The answer is he had access to an area of the brain the common man does not, allowing him to find previously unknown forms of musical expression within himself. An early clue was when he titled his 1972 album Music of My Mind, as if he knew he was tapping into things from a mysterious reservoir of creativity. With that album and all the way through Songs in the Key of Life in 1976, he went on one of the most mind-boggling creative tears in music history. I remember vividly watching the Grammy Awards in 1977 and Stevie won every award he was nominated for that night. Even better, he didn’t show up for the ceremony.* At the time, I was a kid and hadn’t even heard the record being celebrated, but even then, it was being treated as a landmark musical accomplishment. Everybody knew he was going to win far in advance (a lame list of fellow nominees didn’t hurt). Nobody else got close to touching hardware if Stevie was also nominated in their category. Even the most confident music lover would hav trouble choosing one song from the album, but my final two was a toss-up between “Sir Duke” and “I Wish” with the latter winning out mainly because it kind of reminds me of my own troubled youth—getting into shit I shouldn’t have been getting into, the usual stuff. No, I wasn’t a “nappy-headed boy,” that’s where our similarities ended, but I did profoundly disappoint my mom frequently in my early years (she once called me a “Juvenile Delinquent” which changed my life forever and for the better). Later in life, and I don’t know where it came from exactly, my natural predisposition for songs with soulful grooves began to emerge, almost like it was intertwined with my genetic material. Only then did Stevie’s music start to make more and more sense to me, his genius becoming crystal clear over time. Now, I can only sit back in awe at what came out of one man’s spectacular musical vision (if you'll pardon the irony).

*He was in Ghana at the time reconnecting with his heritage and covertly planning to leave the record business entirely. They did link up with him via satellite so he could accept his awards, but when presenter Andy Williams, trying to establish communication, asked Wonder, "Stevie, can you see us?" it went down in Grammy blooper history.

09 "Summer, Highland Falls" | Billy Joel

This is for all the manic depressives out here tonight.

-Joel during Shea Stadium concert intro to “Summer Highland Falls”

My favorite Billy Joel song of them all is this classic from Turnstiles, although the best version can be found on the live Songs in the Attic a few years later (less rushed, allowing for each word to resonate). The lyrics are tightly appointed, allowing for some highly calibrated syncopation down to the syllable level. They tumble forward as if custom forged to fit together as complementary pieces, just like a Swiss timepiece. Making it look simple is what all that behind-the-scenes detail work is all about. So we end up with a very short number, three stanzas and out, each ending with the same “It’s either sadness or euphoria” refrain. It’s a song worth dissecting for its clever lyricism, but it’s also how the piano keeps up with the words, guiding them along, that makes it all come together. No wonder Billy himself has called it his favorite piece of music that he has written. Mine, too.   

08 "Kid Charlemagne" | Steely Dan

That’s right. Billy Joel straight into Steely Dan. Don’t let people tell you either isn’t cool; make those decisions for yourself. One thing is for certain: if someone has to tell you what’s cool, you ain’t cool and never will be. But I digress. “Kid Charlemagne” broke good in 1976, telling the tale of a prominent psychedelic chef (Owsley Stanley) in San Francisco who made the purest acid in town in a “Technicolor motor home,” earning him fame and fortune for a while. Sound familiar? Clearly Vince Gilligan was listening when he wrote th initial scripts for Breaking Bad. The cool thing is that it doesn’t sound like a drug song. It's too precise, too complex, too catchy, and to quote Walter White himself, features “pure musicianship.” There’s no other chorus quite as dynamic on The Royal Scam. I'd be lying, however, if I claimed these are the primary reasons it made my 1976 mixtape. Nope. For me it comes down to the line "Is there gas in the car? Yes, there's gas in the car" sung by Donald Fagen with kind of a goofy flourish in his voice. It's a touch of whimsy late in the song that I've always loved and appreciated. To this day, I rarely fill up my car at the gas station without this song running through my head for at least a few seconds.

On a side note: Some might wonder, if they’ve seen our blog mascot Fezz (photo in the About section), why we didn’t choose “The Fez” instead of "Kid Charlemagne," especially because the song is partially responsible for inspiring his name (an additional Z added for visual appeal). The bottom line is that “Kid” is just a better song, one we’ve loved since we first discovered the band (dat unknown). That said, “Kid Charlemagne” would also make a pretty good dog name, so feel free to use it (“Kid Charlemagne, your dinner's ready!).  

07 "The Boys Are Back in Town" | Thin Lizzy

The ultimate song for any group of males returning home after an extended time away. It's been rumored to b about Thin Lizzy coming home after a long tour or the so-called Quality Street Gang that would hang out at singer Phil Lynott’s mother’s bar in Manchester when he was a youngster. Either way, I love how the song is told from the perspective of a neighborhood gossip, one of those guys who stayed home while the others went out to experience the world. He’s clearly excited to reconnect with his old buddies, even doing some research on the whereabouts of a hot girl they used to know in the hood in the process. I love how he tells the girl they were asking “How you was, where you could be found,” just as boys might talk while tossing back a few pints. The second verse features some reminiscing after the boys reconvene—they drink, tell stories, and bust each other’s chops just like Danny Zuko and the Thunderbirds did in Grease (“If that chick don’t wanna know, forget her!” sounds like it could’ve come from that movie). The interesting thing that’s never been mentioned in any article is that the narrator equates the arrival of summer with the return of his friends. Could it be they were away at college and now they’re back for the summer to raise hell in the old hood for a few months? The flexibility of the song allows for a number of possibilities.

06 "Don't Ask Me Questions" | Graham Parker

Graham was a nasty, snarling pub rocker from London when he emerged in 1976 with one of the all-time classic debut albums, Howlin’ Wind. The world needed a tough, brawling rock band with R&B influences more than they realized. The record still sounds vital today. Parker was a defiant sonofabitch then and, albeit tamed by time, he still has that same streak now. "Don’t Ask Me Questions" features him under a hot interrogation lamp in a heated debate with the Lord himself. Graham is incapable of justifying his actions here on Earth and he knows it. "Hey Lord, don’t ask me questions / There ain’t no answer in me." Instead of begging for forgiveness, he turns the tables demanding answers from the Lord for his blatant violation of his own established commandments. "Who waves his mighty hand and breaks the precious rules?" Turnabout is fair play. Nobody challenged the establishment, any establishment, with quite the same bite as Graham Parker. That’s why he’s one of my all-time favorite artists. He calls it as he sees it. He backs down from nobody.

05 "Shout It Out Loud" | Kiss

In 1976, I basically listened to one record all year for I was a one-band boy back then. As is well documented in other posts, Kiss was my first love and in 1976 there was no room in my life for anyone else. Hence, I know Destroyer better than almost any other album I own. Which makes the choice of songs all the more difficult. At one point or another, I’ve considered just about all of them. In the end, I defaulted to my younger self, the kid who euphorically sang “Shout It Out Loud” at the top of his lungs at his very first concert. It just seemed fitting in such profound historical context to include it here.

04 "A Passage to Bangkok" | Rush

One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster.

-Murray Head, "One Night in Bangkok"

I'm not living on Chinese rocks

I'm in Bangkok

-Alex Chilton, "Bangkok"

When I think of bands hitting the road in search of the world’s finest weed, Rush doesn’t spring to mind, but yet here they are spanning the globe looking for constant varieties of doobage. If pot was legal from the get-go, would this song even exist? Ponder that the next time you fire up a fatty. There's no doubt the attraction of the drug was at its peak back in 1976, but its illegality was half the fun. These days, every suburban dad has a "secret" stash in his golf bag or fanny pack. In a way, the experience has been partly ruined for me. Nonetheless, pack up your kimonos and let’s get on the train for a little sampling trip. Back to 1976 we go. Our first stop, once again is in Bogatá. We'll wing it from there.

03 "Roadrunner" | The Modern Lovers

The versatile “Roadrunner” is one of the ultimate driving songs. It is also one of the ultimate songs about the magic power of radio. On top of all that, it’s one of the ultimate songs about rock and roll. An impressive list of accomplishments for a single four-minute rock song. Jonathan Richman’s stuffy-nosed vocal makes it seem even more liberating. He comes off like a rebellious kid who stole the keys to his parents’ car and is tasting personal freedom for the very first time, road rushing under his wheels (faster miles-an-hour!), radio on, adult oppressors in his rear view. 

02 "American Girl" | Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers

I can name countless songs played to death on AOR stations that I regularly skip over when they come on. But not “American Girl,” a thrilling escape from reality each and every time. It’s a song that has soundtracked significant moments of my life. It was playing when a friend and I took a nine-day car ride to the East Coast, where we slept off hangovers on a beach on the Jersey shore. It was there when we saw Petty countless times in various venues over the years. It was there every time I watched one of my favorite movies, Silence of the Lambs. And Fast Times at Ridgemont High. It made my “greatest last songs” list and my favorite “girl songs" mixtape. It was also on my list of the 25 favorite songs of all-time. Never once have I skipped it, either. It’s as much a part of my existence as the ears I hear the song with. It’s an amazing song to come off any album, let alone a debut album. Every moment is iconic, from the first few seconds to the fade-out. It’s a companion piece, soundtracking my life all the while, waiting for the next chance to add another life moment to its resume. 

01 "Night Moves" | Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band

The narrative economy of Bob Seger’s songs continues to amaze me decades after I first fell in love with them back in the early 80s. He could paint a vivid picture with just a few well-chosen words. I marvel at his ability once again today as I relisten to “Night Moves” for the millionth time, a song that magically takes us from adolescence to adulthood in a matter of minutes. Bob's horny teenage years come alive in the song as kids work on “mysteries without any clues.” Let's be frank, all a young man desires as a teenager is to see a girl’s perky boobs "way up firm and high," maybe touch an inner thigh if he's lucky. Those are the gateway drugs. Crude, perhaps, but true. In “Night Moves,” however, it’s not a one-way street. "I used her, she used me, but neither one cared / We were getting our share" in the backrooms, alleys, or the trusty woods—the usual locales of the privacy challenged. It takes two to tango after all. These experiences cannot be recreated or relived, just fondly remembered. And that's what Seger does until thunder cracks act as a teleportation device to a much later time where the excitement of life has been diminished by experience and adulthood. After one of the greatest pregnant pauses in rock and roll, the song kicks in again, a persistent acoustic strum now accompanied by background vocalists for maximum impact. They seem to tell us that we may be beyond our formative years, but those memories live on, there for us whenever we need to call upon them. Maybe they'll even make us feel young again for a while, at least until the mortgage comes due.

_____________

Brutal. Just brutal. But worth it.

Cheers,

The Priest