Now that I've got your attention, I'd like your opinion on a significant musical matter. Ready?
Among the dozens of aging baby boomer singers who have taken a turn crooning classics from the Great American songbook - Gershwin, Porter, Rodgers, et al - which, in your view, has been up to the challenge? To my ears, there are three clear tiers. Cue the violins. In descending order ...
Tier one includes the first boomer to take a real shot at this songbook - Carly Simon - whose 1981 recording called Torch, set the bar for others who followed. Carly's follow up - My Romance (1990) - was almost as good. Also in my tier one are Kenny Rankin - whose voice was meant for these songs - and Linda Ronstadt, who had the good sense to hire Nelson Riddle as her arranger starting with her first recording of standards, 1983's What's New.
My tier two - boomers I'll listen to sing these timeless songs only in a pinch - includes, among others, Rod Stewart. I'll say this for Rod the Mod - at least he takes the time to learn the correct lyrics, picks keys he can manage, and avoids elongating any notes.
My tier three i.e. don't even get me started, has several would-be crooners but one stands out in this "What were they thinking?" category. Bob Dylan is an important, seminal, influential songwriter who almost single handedly changed the musical landscape in the mid 60's. Some of his covers of blues, folk, and country songs are worth listening to. But Bob - Harold Arlen, Hoagy Carmichael, Jerome Kern? Please say it ain't so.
OK, I'm ready. Who do you put in each of these three tiers? And, will you take a check? Bitcoins?
About Me
- Pat Barton
- My most recent single release - "My True North" - is now available on Bandcamp. Open my profile and click on "audio clip".
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
Sunday, April 28, 2019
Got A Junker You Want To Dump?
"Make America grateful again."
When I recently spotted the above on a bumper sticker, it marked only the second time in my driving life that I was seriously tempted to adorn my car with a provocative slogan. So far, just like in the first instance, I've resisted. Ever succumbed to the temptation to poke other drivers via a statement that felt as right to you as the one above feels to me? If yes, what did your bumper sticker say? If you've seen one that you really liked but decided against putting it on your car, what stopped you?
My hesitation is probably closely linked to a fear of igniting the road rage of some unhinged person or finding my car keyed somewhere it is parked. Those fears may not be ill-considered, especially here in my over-heated home State, but it still shames me a bit being so timid. Is it plausible the worst I might face would be drivers frequently flipping me the bird? Readers with more bumper sticker moxie than I: What has been your experience?
"I love my country but I think we should start seeing other people". That was the winner I resisted back in 2009. Some days my restraint feels like good common sense. Other days it feels more like moral cowardice. Maybe I'll indulge myself, buy a used piece of junk, and put one on each bumper.
When I recently spotted the above on a bumper sticker, it marked only the second time in my driving life that I was seriously tempted to adorn my car with a provocative slogan. So far, just like in the first instance, I've resisted. Ever succumbed to the temptation to poke other drivers via a statement that felt as right to you as the one above feels to me? If yes, what did your bumper sticker say? If you've seen one that you really liked but decided against putting it on your car, what stopped you?
My hesitation is probably closely linked to a fear of igniting the road rage of some unhinged person or finding my car keyed somewhere it is parked. Those fears may not be ill-considered, especially here in my over-heated home State, but it still shames me a bit being so timid. Is it plausible the worst I might face would be drivers frequently flipping me the bird? Readers with more bumper sticker moxie than I: What has been your experience?
"I love my country but I think we should start seeing other people". That was the winner I resisted back in 2009. Some days my restraint feels like good common sense. Other days it feels more like moral cowardice. Maybe I'll indulge myself, buy a used piece of junk, and put one on each bumper.
Wednesday, April 24, 2019
Ouch
"If I cannot see some good in all of us and hope that the pain we all share will come to an end, what kind of man am I?"
How often do you ask yourself a question as difficult as that? I sincerely believe the world would be a more civil place if we each tried to see more good in others. And I know I'd like myself a little more if I routinely integrated that kind of grace into my life.
"We are none of us innocent."
Pointing the finger at others is so much easier than looking at ourselves, isn't it? How much healthier I'd be if I considered my complicity in the injustices of the world instead of demonizing the folks who have been publicly declared guilty of wrongdoing. Why expend energy in such a negative way?
"It must be a terrible thing to know you've been a bad parent, but it's worse to know you have been an ungrateful child."
Ouch. The quotes above are from John Boyne's unsparing novel A History of Loneliness (2015). The narrator and central character - Odran Yates - is an insular Catholic priest who has tended a library as the cancer in the Church has metastasized and the payoffs to purchase silence have been authorized by Rome. The architecture is masterful, the prose is solid, the story is compelling. But I recommend it only to those unafraid to look inward.
How often do you ask yourself a question as difficult as that? I sincerely believe the world would be a more civil place if we each tried to see more good in others. And I know I'd like myself a little more if I routinely integrated that kind of grace into my life.
"We are none of us innocent."
Pointing the finger at others is so much easier than looking at ourselves, isn't it? How much healthier I'd be if I considered my complicity in the injustices of the world instead of demonizing the folks who have been publicly declared guilty of wrongdoing. Why expend energy in such a negative way?
"It must be a terrible thing to know you've been a bad parent, but it's worse to know you have been an ungrateful child."
Ouch. The quotes above are from John Boyne's unsparing novel A History of Loneliness (2015). The narrator and central character - Odran Yates - is an insular Catholic priest who has tended a library as the cancer in the Church has metastasized and the payoffs to purchase silence have been authorized by Rome. The architecture is masterful, the prose is solid, the story is compelling. But I recommend it only to those unafraid to look inward.
Saturday, April 20, 2019
A Seder With My Tribe
Although I have no clear recollection of specifics, I'm reasonably sure the Seder I just attended was not my first. After all, over my almost seventy years, more than a few Jewish people have been important to me. I certainly have fond memories being the guest of friends at bar mitzvahs for their sons.
I do know this particular Seder will remain with me. I struggled to maintain my composure several times; I was not alone. The modern relevance of the ancient words from the Haggadah was striking. It was comforting to know that the twenty adults sitting around that table, none of whom I knew just eighteen months ago, shared some important values with me. We all abhor oppression and injustice, celebrate tolerance, believe people deserve to be treated with dignity. I was honored to be there. (Added bonus: Every so often, a Hebrew word was either recognizable or easily pronounceable; I relished jumping into the shared readings at that point.)
On some days, the incivility of modern life can wear me down. You? This affirming Seder gave me a lift I plan on holding onto for as long as I'm able.
I do know this particular Seder will remain with me. I struggled to maintain my composure several times; I was not alone. The modern relevance of the ancient words from the Haggadah was striking. It was comforting to know that the twenty adults sitting around that table, none of whom I knew just eighteen months ago, shared some important values with me. We all abhor oppression and injustice, celebrate tolerance, believe people deserve to be treated with dignity. I was honored to be there. (Added bonus: Every so often, a Hebrew word was either recognizable or easily pronounceable; I relished jumping into the shared readings at that point.)
On some days, the incivility of modern life can wear me down. You? This affirming Seder gave me a lift I plan on holding onto for as long as I'm able.
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Got Three Words?
Compromise, laughter, trust.
All day yesterday, as my wife and I celebrated the anniversary of our first date in 1978, I'd planned to close the day publishing a blog post about our reasonably healthy long term partnership inspired by a NY Times feature called What We've Learned.
Compromise, laughter, trust.
After several false starts, I gave up around midnight and then resumed trying first thing this a.m. But my usual model of asking questions (e.g. What have you discovered are the critical elements to help a long term partnership thrive?) and aiming for three terse paragraphs just wasn't working. I'm grateful beyond measure for the life my wife and I have shared for forty one years. And, like all long term partnerships - like yours - we've struggled. Still, for me, at least this moment, three words nail it.
Compromise, laughter, trust.
Got three words that nail it for you?
All day yesterday, as my wife and I celebrated the anniversary of our first date in 1978, I'd planned to close the day publishing a blog post about our reasonably healthy long term partnership inspired by a NY Times feature called What We've Learned.
Compromise, laughter, trust.
After several false starts, I gave up around midnight and then resumed trying first thing this a.m. But my usual model of asking questions (e.g. What have you discovered are the critical elements to help a long term partnership thrive?) and aiming for three terse paragraphs just wasn't working. I'm grateful beyond measure for the life my wife and I have shared for forty one years. And, like all long term partnerships - like yours - we've struggled. Still, for me, at least this moment, three words nail it.
Compromise, laughter, trust.
Got three words that nail it for you?
Sunday, April 14, 2019
Tuning Up Our Planning Mojo
My reactions on those infrequent occasions when I've re-visited blog posts written on the same date from years back have been unpredictable. I've been both pleased and embarrassed about my writing. I've been proud I accomplished things I publicly committed to and chastened by my lack of progress. I've wished I'd had courage to say more and wished I'd kept my opinions to myself. Through all those ups and downs, one thing has remained constant: I'm glad I started this blog and have stuck with it.
https://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2012/04/future-filled-with-parks.html
Case in point: Although our National Park mission - declared in the post above from April 14, 2012 - has moved forward, re-reading it reminded me we're going to have to pick up the pace over the next several years. Since that 2012 visit to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky, we've visited about a dozen others. (A few favorites over the seven years: Denali in Alaska and Big Bend in Texas.) But somehow, no parks got included while planning our 2019 trips. There are two we've yet to visit that are within reasonable driving distance - Cuyahoga Valley in Ohio and Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee - so 2019 is not yet a lost cause.
Still, most of the six remaining National Parks in Alaska we haven't yet seen will be a real challenge unless we get our planning mojo working more efficiently. If I happen to re-read this post seven years from now and we still haven't made it to Kobuk Valley - not to mention American Samoa - the post I publish on April 14, 2026 could be a bit more wistful than this one.
https://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2012/04/future-filled-with-parks.html
Case in point: Although our National Park mission - declared in the post above from April 14, 2012 - has moved forward, re-reading it reminded me we're going to have to pick up the pace over the next several years. Since that 2012 visit to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky, we've visited about a dozen others. (A few favorites over the seven years: Denali in Alaska and Big Bend in Texas.) But somehow, no parks got included while planning our 2019 trips. There are two we've yet to visit that are within reasonable driving distance - Cuyahoga Valley in Ohio and Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee - so 2019 is not yet a lost cause.
Still, most of the six remaining National Parks in Alaska we haven't yet seen will be a real challenge unless we get our planning mojo working more efficiently. If I happen to re-read this post seven years from now and we still haven't made it to Kobuk Valley - not to mention American Samoa - the post I publish on April 14, 2026 could be a bit more wistful than this one.
Thursday, April 11, 2019
Testing Pat's Theory Of Relativity
Because today's post has several parts, it's longer than my usual length; I hope you'll indulge me. Those parts include a disclaimer, a link to a website you'll use in assisting me to test a theory, and a request involving that theory.
The disclaimer: Knowing the capitals of the fifty United States is neither useful nor important. And memorizing those capitals early in life - with assists from childhood dinner conversations - does not make a geography nerd like me smarter than anybody who could care less, my family's obnoxious braggadocio aside. This post is specifically aimed at folks who could care less. But, each of you will need a list of those capitals to help test my theory so here's the website to keep handy.
https://state.1keydata.com/state-capitals.php
Theory: I submit, interest aside, there are three levels of familiarity with State capitals and each level has an easy-to-predict percentage of people who could correctly identify the capital, willingly or not.
Level 1.) are capitals that the majority of people, would be able to name. Included in my level 1 are Atlanta, Boston, Denver, Phoenix and a few others. But my tally needn't be the same as yours. Look at all fifty and you decide how many of the capitals belong in this easy-even-for-the-uninterested-to-guess group. Use yourself as a representative example. If the capital seems really obvious to you - I'm assuming you could care less - it's probably the same for many others. All I want is your help testing my theory. Your sample of people to ask needn't be bigger than three. If two of your three get the easy capitals right that would be a majority, i.e. my theory has been proven. And, you don't have to test the uninterested/unwilling with all your level 1 capitals; just say Georgia and if two of your three say Atlanta, that's good enough for me.
Level 2.) are capitals that the majority of folks would not be able to name, i.e. this level includes those capitals that just one of your sample of three would get right (unless you're as nerdy as me and go for a bigger sample.) Included in my level 2 are many, though not all, of the capitals from the "groups of four" - four capitals ending with the word City, four that have the same first letter as their respective State, four named after a President. FYI, two of those - Oklahoma City and Jefferson City - straddle two of those groups. Also included in this level - this is the kind of trick us memorizing nerds use all the time - are the five capitals with two words (not including those ending in City), and a few others that are arguably more memorable (e.g. Columbus, Ohio?). My total for level 2 is around twenty two capitals. But, before making a final decision about what belongs in your level 2, consider level 3. Also: Note the caveat, because where the folks in your sample are from can skew your results if you're not careful.
Level 3.) are capitals that the overwhelming majority of all people, including your sample of three (that would be none), would not be able to name. I've got about twenty one here. Important caveat for this level: Be sure to consider where the folks making up your sample were raised and/or have spent a good part of their life residing. This is important in validating my theory. Included in my level 3 is the capital of my own State because few people in Oregon or North Dakota or Kentucky would ever guess Trenton is the capital of New Jersey the same way few people in New Jersey would ever guess Salem or Bismarck or Frankfort for their respective States. Albany and Harrisburg go in my level 3 for the same reason, i.e. unless you were raised or have resided in a nearby State, I maintain your guesses for capitals would be New York City or Buffalo for New York and either Philadelphia or Pittsburgh for Pennsylvania. But again, use that list and you decide. Just test my theory.
OK, now my request: My pending offer from the Einstein Foundation for the Continuing Study of Important Theories by Certified Geniuses (EFCSITCG) stipulates my compensation - proving or disproving my theory - is tied to the amount of data I collect. So, please get back to me ASAP with your results. Apologies to those folks who are accustomed to the periodic posts I put on my Facebook wall being much briefer than this. Given my current shortage of funds, and the potential windfall from EFCSITCG, enlisting help from Facebook friends today seemed financially sensible.
The disclaimer: Knowing the capitals of the fifty United States is neither useful nor important. And memorizing those capitals early in life - with assists from childhood dinner conversations - does not make a geography nerd like me smarter than anybody who could care less, my family's obnoxious braggadocio aside. This post is specifically aimed at folks who could care less. But, each of you will need a list of those capitals to help test my theory so here's the website to keep handy.
https://state.1keydata.com/state-capitals.php
Theory: I submit, interest aside, there are three levels of familiarity with State capitals and each level has an easy-to-predict percentage of people who could correctly identify the capital, willingly or not.
Level 1.) are capitals that the majority of people, would be able to name. Included in my level 1 are Atlanta, Boston, Denver, Phoenix and a few others. But my tally needn't be the same as yours. Look at all fifty and you decide how many of the capitals belong in this easy-even-for-the-uninterested-to-guess group. Use yourself as a representative example. If the capital seems really obvious to you - I'm assuming you could care less - it's probably the same for many others. All I want is your help testing my theory. Your sample of people to ask needn't be bigger than three. If two of your three get the easy capitals right that would be a majority, i.e. my theory has been proven. And, you don't have to test the uninterested/unwilling with all your level 1 capitals; just say Georgia and if two of your three say Atlanta, that's good enough for me.
Level 2.) are capitals that the majority of folks would not be able to name, i.e. this level includes those capitals that just one of your sample of three would get right (unless you're as nerdy as me and go for a bigger sample.) Included in my level 2 are many, though not all, of the capitals from the "groups of four" - four capitals ending with the word City, four that have the same first letter as their respective State, four named after a President. FYI, two of those - Oklahoma City and Jefferson City - straddle two of those groups. Also included in this level - this is the kind of trick us memorizing nerds use all the time - are the five capitals with two words (not including those ending in City), and a few others that are arguably more memorable (e.g. Columbus, Ohio?). My total for level 2 is around twenty two capitals. But, before making a final decision about what belongs in your level 2, consider level 3. Also: Note the caveat, because where the folks in your sample are from can skew your results if you're not careful.
Level 3.) are capitals that the overwhelming majority of all people, including your sample of three (that would be none), would not be able to name. I've got about twenty one here. Important caveat for this level: Be sure to consider where the folks making up your sample were raised and/or have spent a good part of their life residing. This is important in validating my theory. Included in my level 3 is the capital of my own State because few people in Oregon or North Dakota or Kentucky would ever guess Trenton is the capital of New Jersey the same way few people in New Jersey would ever guess Salem or Bismarck or Frankfort for their respective States. Albany and Harrisburg go in my level 3 for the same reason, i.e. unless you were raised or have resided in a nearby State, I maintain your guesses for capitals would be New York City or Buffalo for New York and either Philadelphia or Pittsburgh for Pennsylvania. But again, use that list and you decide. Just test my theory.
OK, now my request: My pending offer from the Einstein Foundation for the Continuing Study of Important Theories by Certified Geniuses (EFCSITCG) stipulates my compensation - proving or disproving my theory - is tied to the amount of data I collect. So, please get back to me ASAP with your results. Apologies to those folks who are accustomed to the periodic posts I put on my Facebook wall being much briefer than this. Given my current shortage of funds, and the potential windfall from EFCSITCG, enlisting help from Facebook friends today seemed financially sensible.
Monday, April 8, 2019
Confessions Of A Page-Numbering Book Geek
It's official - Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind - is now the book that took me the longest time to finish over the nine years of my post full time work life.
How do I know this? Because of the start and finish date noted in my book journals. Was Sapiens the longest book I've read since initiating those journals in 2010? Nope - Anna Karenina was twice as long. Was Yuval Noah Harari's 2015 masterwork the most technical? It was not - that distinction arguably belongs to the superb - and longer - The Emperor of Maladies: A Biography of Cancer (Siddhartha Mukherjee - 2011). Was Sapiens the most dense? In my view, Collapse: How Societies Choose To Fail or Succeed - Jared Diamond's equally excellent 2005 volume - owns that label. BTW, Collapse is also longer than Sapiens.
Did my attention wander while reading Sapiens? Not once. Was my life unusually busy? No. Was I reading other books at the same time, did I misplace it a few times, was the pace lumbering or the prose unsatisfying? None of the above. Have I dragged this out long enough?
In the end, it would have been wise for me to purchase Sapiens and mark it up. Instead, I took over thirty pages of notes; writing down that much took a lot of time. And, each time I re-opened the book, I re-read many of my notes; there was so much I wanted to remember. The longest break in the book warranting no notes? Twenty pages. How do I know this? I write down page numbers. I know this is geeky - note the non-ironic title of this post.
I cannot recommend this book enough, especially for fans of non-fiction. I promise you: There are startling insights as well as potential learning for almost everyone on nearly every page, all wrapped in an easy-to-understand and digest package. But do yourself a favor: Buy a copy and save some time.
How do I know this? Because of the start and finish date noted in my book journals. Was Sapiens the longest book I've read since initiating those journals in 2010? Nope - Anna Karenina was twice as long. Was Yuval Noah Harari's 2015 masterwork the most technical? It was not - that distinction arguably belongs to the superb - and longer - The Emperor of Maladies: A Biography of Cancer (Siddhartha Mukherjee - 2011). Was Sapiens the most dense? In my view, Collapse: How Societies Choose To Fail or Succeed - Jared Diamond's equally excellent 2005 volume - owns that label. BTW, Collapse is also longer than Sapiens.
Did my attention wander while reading Sapiens? Not once. Was my life unusually busy? No. Was I reading other books at the same time, did I misplace it a few times, was the pace lumbering or the prose unsatisfying? None of the above. Have I dragged this out long enough?
In the end, it would have been wise for me to purchase Sapiens and mark it up. Instead, I took over thirty pages of notes; writing down that much took a lot of time. And, each time I re-opened the book, I re-read many of my notes; there was so much I wanted to remember. The longest break in the book warranting no notes? Twenty pages. How do I know this? I write down page numbers. I know this is geeky - note the non-ironic title of this post.
I cannot recommend this book enough, especially for fans of non-fiction. I promise you: There are startling insights as well as potential learning for almost everyone on nearly every page, all wrapped in an easy-to-understand and digest package. But do yourself a favor: Buy a copy and save some time.
Friday, April 5, 2019
Free At Last
Nine years ago my full time work life concluded.
A partial list of mundane things I don't miss includes having to rise each morning at about the same time, dealing with rush hour traffic, wearing a tie. Speaking of ties, which mysterious elements in the fashion universe coincided to help codify that utterly senseless business convention?
But different mundane annoyances comparable to those above are part of my post full time work life as well. And those past annoyances were as easily tolerable as the current ones. What I miss least about the daily grind - and have worked to avoid since April 2010 - is pretending to be interested in conversations about things of no value. Infrequently, one of my "business" conversations comes back to me in some detail. These rewinds can make me laugh out loud at myself. How did I keep a straight face back then? Conversational flashbacks like this sound familiar to anyone who has left the world of full time work? Those of you still working full time: When was the last time a work conversation bored you so much you wanted to scream, sleep, or pummel the others involved?
Has every conversation I've had since 2010 been valuable, rich with ideas, scintillating? What do you think? The biggest difference is how I now search for value and how easy it can be - with all my time my own - to find situations that are likely to yield that value. No more excuses, no more pretending, no more acronyms or abbreviations. Free at last.
A partial list of mundane things I don't miss includes having to rise each morning at about the same time, dealing with rush hour traffic, wearing a tie. Speaking of ties, which mysterious elements in the fashion universe coincided to help codify that utterly senseless business convention?
But different mundane annoyances comparable to those above are part of my post full time work life as well. And those past annoyances were as easily tolerable as the current ones. What I miss least about the daily grind - and have worked to avoid since April 2010 - is pretending to be interested in conversations about things of no value. Infrequently, one of my "business" conversations comes back to me in some detail. These rewinds can make me laugh out loud at myself. How did I keep a straight face back then? Conversational flashbacks like this sound familiar to anyone who has left the world of full time work? Those of you still working full time: When was the last time a work conversation bored you so much you wanted to scream, sleep, or pummel the others involved?
Has every conversation I've had since 2010 been valuable, rich with ideas, scintillating? What do you think? The biggest difference is how I now search for value and how easy it can be - with all my time my own - to find situations that are likely to yield that value. No more excuses, no more pretending, no more acronyms or abbreviations. Free at last.
Wednesday, April 3, 2019
#54: The Mt. Rushmore Series
This iteration of my long-running Mt. Rushmore series was inspired by a recent comment I received when I solicited help for my next music course. My March 29th post entitled Cover Me prompted an anonymous reader to suggest Every Time You Go Away, a great song written by Darryl Hall in 1980 and made famous by Paul Young in 1985. Presto - My newest mountain began forming in my addled brain. By the time I learned Paul Young was not a one-hit wonder - turns out he had another big hit, a cover of the Chi-Lites Oh Girl - construction on my monument had already begun.
So, if you had to select just four one-hit wonders to put on a musical Mt. Rushmore, which would you choose? A one-hit wonder is an artist who had only one single that reached the top forty over an entire career. Apologies for the baby boomer whiff coming off my monument. Alphabetically ...
1.) Angel Of The Morning (1968) by Merrilee Rush & the Turnabouts - Written by Chip Taylor (who also wrote, infamously, Wild Thing) this simple tune holds up beautifully more than 50 years later.
2.) Baby It's You (1969) by Smith - Both the Shirelles and the Beatles had a hit with this song before the band Smith (not to be confused with the Smiths) tore it up in 1969, never to be heard from again. Gayle McCormick's scorching vocal immortalized this atypical Burt Bacharach composition.
3.) Play That Funky Music (1976) by Wild Cherry - If you can keep your feet from tapping and your face from smiling while listening to this classic, I'd suggest checking your pulse.
4.) Union Man (1974) by the Cate Brothers - Though the Cate Brothers never made the top forty again, this winner cracked the top twenty. Unfortunately, this tune gets less airplay nowadays than the other three on my mountain. Too bad; it has energy and attitude to spare and those guitars - whew!
I'm looking forward to hearing which one-hit wonders you'd enshrine.
So, if you had to select just four one-hit wonders to put on a musical Mt. Rushmore, which would you choose? A one-hit wonder is an artist who had only one single that reached the top forty over an entire career. Apologies for the baby boomer whiff coming off my monument. Alphabetically ...
1.) Angel Of The Morning (1968) by Merrilee Rush & the Turnabouts - Written by Chip Taylor (who also wrote, infamously, Wild Thing) this simple tune holds up beautifully more than 50 years later.
2.) Baby It's You (1969) by Smith - Both the Shirelles and the Beatles had a hit with this song before the band Smith (not to be confused with the Smiths) tore it up in 1969, never to be heard from again. Gayle McCormick's scorching vocal immortalized this atypical Burt Bacharach composition.
3.) Play That Funky Music (1976) by Wild Cherry - If you can keep your feet from tapping and your face from smiling while listening to this classic, I'd suggest checking your pulse.
4.) Union Man (1974) by the Cate Brothers - Though the Cate Brothers never made the top forty again, this winner cracked the top twenty. Unfortunately, this tune gets less airplay nowadays than the other three on my mountain. Too bad; it has energy and attitude to spare and those guitars - whew!
I'm looking forward to hearing which one-hit wonders you'd enshrine.
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