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.
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.
Randophonic 