5 pop songs that defined the 1970s

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The Jackson Five
The Jackson Five | Hulton Deutsch/GettyImages

To musical bluebloods, or blue-ears, or whatever you might call them, pop music has always been seen as an opiate for the masses. Listeners with taste never go for the most popular. They are more elevated. Bill Murray, as John Winger, summed it up for his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend at the beginning of Stripes.

“Tito Puente is going to be dead and you’ll say, ‘I’ve been listening to him for years. He’s fabulous.”

That was 1981, and the girlfriend in question was more likely listening to Hall & Oates or Juice Newton.

John Winger is trying to convince his girlfriend that Tito Puente is better than any of the mindless pop she hears on the radio, which is a conversation we’ve all had. It grows out of the fundamental belief that it must not be good if it's popular. It’s unadulterated snobbery.

Pop songs of the 1970s that helped define the decade

Now, there’s a germ of truth in the prejudice therein contained. Popular music often appeals to the broadest possible demographic and smooths out the rougher edges at the heart of artistic innovation. Pop songs are usually produced within an inch of their lives, using the latest technology to favor the perfect over the human. And that can result in mind-numbing pap.

But if you listen to enough music, you realize every genre has gems. Every genre has it duds. You may prefer jazz to punk or metal to country, but you can still enjoy some Black Flag or Shania Twain.

Today’s mission is to pick five very popular songs from the 1970s that were ubiquitous and also very good. This is an interesting list because I came to like and respect each of these songs at different points in my life. Some I loved from the first time I heard them as a kid. At least one of them I began liking a couple of hours ago.

I suppose it just proves that you should never really close the door of music.

“Cracklin’ Rose” by Neil Diamond (1970)

I realize that “Sweet Caroline” will forever be recognized as “the” Neil Diamond song. It came out in 1969 and is an undeniably catchy sing-along. For me, the follow-up, “Cracklin’ Rosie,” is his best song. The debate over whether the song was inspired by a woman or a bottle of wine misses the point of art. It can be both, which is how I choose to interpret it.

But I’m not worried about the meaning because the melody is pure 1970 pop. You can accuse Diamond of being silly and overwrought – a Brill Building kid’s conception of what Vegas glitz sounds like. I can’t deny any of that. I also can’t deny that it all works in both “Sweet Caroline” and “Cracklin’ Rosie” – far better than in some of his more belabored hits from later in the decade.

Diamond had been around for about a decade by 1970. He was a veteran. But he wasn’t jaded yet. He was still joyful. A decade hence, love would be “on the rocks” – a far more maudlin blend of love song and drinking song. 1970 Diamond still had “all night to set the world right.”

“ABC” by the Jackson Five (1970)

Bubblegum pop was already a force in pop music when Berry Gordy unleashed five brothers from Indiana on the world. It was “bubblegum” because it was sweet. Literally sweet – “Yummy, Yummy, Yummy” or “Sugar, Sugar.” A British band would filter the basic vibe through glam rock a few years later. They were called … Sweet.

The Jackson Five, produced ideally by the hitmakers in Motown, added a touch of funk to the mix, so they were often labeled as bubblegum soul.

But it was all pop, in that it was extraordinarily popular. “ABC” was a virtual clone of their first hit “I Want You Back,” only even better – less restrained and more reliant on how lead singer Michael’s high tenor worked with older brother Jermaine’s gruff baritone. Wrecking Crew pros like bassist Wilton Felder, drummer Gene Pello, and guitarist Louis Shelton provide the funk.

The Wrecking Crew was a loose collective of L.A. session players who also performed on the Neil Diamond song (the same collective, but different players).

“Rainy Days and Mondays” by Carpenters (1971)

The songwriting team of Paul Williams and Roger Nichols wrote “We’ve Only Just Begun” for Karen and Richard Carpenter in 1970. The song climbed to number two on the Billboard pop chart. The following year, Williams, Nichols, and the Carpenters teamed up again for “Rainy Days and Mondays,” with the same chart result.

But “Rainy Days and Mondays” was a step forward. It is one of the decade's most poignantly beautiful pop songs.

From the mournful harmonica that opens the song, Karen’s extraordinary voice picks up the story as only she could. Singing Williams’ lyrics that managed to be both of their time and eternal – “Talkin’ to myself and feeling old – Sometimes I’d like to quit – Noting ever seems to fit” – Karen was 21 years old but had a lifetime of experience in her tone and phrasing.

Even her brother’s typically over-saturated arrangement stays on the subdued side for the most part. He keeps the strings very subtle and uses Bob Messenger’s sax solo to pleasing effect. You probably can guess where the session players came from. Yep – more of the Wrecking Crew.

The only kink in the production is when Richard allows the background singers to get a little overbearing in the middle. When you had a voice like Karen’s, that was entirely unnecessary.

“Alone Again (Naturally)” by Gilbert O’Sullivan (1972)

In case you’re wondering, this is the song that I only just started liking. I liked it as a kid because it was insanely hummable. And O’Sullivan had that infectious Irish accent. But even as a kid, I recognized that it was somewhat silly and maudlin (though not nearly as icky as his other major hit “Clair.”)

So why is a silly, maudlin song about suicide and the meaninglessness of life on a pop song list like this? Precisely because of that uneasy balance. It’s remarkable – like Foster the People giving a pop sheen to the unspeakable horror of “Pumped Up Kicks,” or Springsteen rocking out to America’s demise in “Born in the U.S.A.”

Something about this song touched a chord during a very dark hour for the nation.

As for my newfound respect, I think it has something to do with hearing Vonda Shepard do a beautifully spiritual cover and then hearing the Dollyrots do a kick-ass punk cover within a few weeks of each other. This is a classically composed tune that lends itself to many interpretations.

“Then Came You” by Dionne Warwick and the Spinners (1974)

Disco was beginning its ascent in the middle of the decade. But there was still room for top-notch soul. Thom Bell – the giant of Philadelphia Soul - got two major hitmakers together, and the result was magic.

Dionne Warwick (who was going by “Warwicke” at this particular moment) could sing anything. She had proven that by handling the complex rhythms of Burt Bachrach and Hal David so effortlessly in the late ‘60s. Meanwhile, the Spinners had proven they could amp up the drama without losing any of the groove on another Thom Bell song – “I’ll Be Around.”

Bell builds his production on a dramatic piano and then adds classic (strings) and funky (guitar) touches as with any duet worth its weight, Warwick and Bobby Smith bounce off each other gloriously.

There were plenty of other good pop songs from later in the decade, but so much of the genre was overwhelmed by disco rhythms that it deserves its list.

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