Yes, that Terry Jacks, and from the same album as that song. Because there was a time, call it 1972, when the most divisively sentimental artifact of pop poison the world knew could cohabit with an oddly heartfelt little ditty about urban alienation, the mindless paving over of paradise, the sheer sadness inherent in being alive and alone in a world that was clearly going to hell, sentimental or otherwise.
“There was a point in the mid-70s when it was easy to think that the Horslips might just be the next big amazing thing. They had a cool Irish folk thing going, and a rock thing, and they could think big, epic even. Which is what Book of Invasions was all about, a goddamned Celtic Symphony, of which Ride To Hell is climax. Unfortunately, it was released in 1977, the year punk truly erupted and laid so much of the old world to waste. Oh well.” (Philip Random)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_PjGiuJI1M
1968 was a huge year for the Rolling Stones, coming as it did after a 1967 that included both serious legal concerns and an album that, for all its apparent embracing of the dark lord, mostly just stumbled (according to the experts). Child of the Moon (released as a b-side) was a cool bit of psychedelia that nicely bridged the gap between all that and its world stomping a-side Jumpin’ Jack Flash, making for one heavy duty seven inch chunk of black plastic.
Elephant’s Memory are one of those they-really-coulda-been-somebody bands. Songs on the Midnight Cowboy soundtrack, John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s band of choice when they were slumming in NYC in the early 70s. But for whatever reason, it never really happened for them. Which doesn’t mean they didn’t drop a few strong albums along the way, including 1972’s Elephant’s Memory, which is where Madness can be found.
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Our current focus is How 2B Confused (aka the 1499 Records we all need to hear Before the Eschaton Immenatizes) — our longest, least concise countdown yet.
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“NYC proto-hipster types Bongwater take on a Moody Blues classic and pay it no respect at all. That’s just how things were in the 80s. The 60s were officially a bad trip and, if you were halfway cool, you were doing everything you could to bury them. Because they really did need to be dead for a while, so they could be reborn out of some caustic storm of superlative noise. At least that’s what it felt like at the time, the so-called Winter of Hate.” (Philip Random)
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