The 500 - #104 - Sweet Baby James - James Taylor

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

---

Album: #104

Album Title: Sweet Baby James

Artist: James Taylor

Genre: Folk Rock

Recorded: Sunset Studios, Hollywood, California

Released: February, 1970

My age at release: 4

How familiar was I with it before this week: Fairly

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #182, dropping 78 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Fire and Rain

Before I knew what a “genre” was, before I knew what a chart was, before I even really understood that music had eras, I was already living inside one...courtesy of the adults in my world. The first popular music I ever loved wasn’t flashy, loud, rebellious or even complex and progressive, it was gentle, thoughtful and a little sad. It was the music of soft, folk rock singer-songwriters who seemed as ubiquitous in the early ‘70s as cigarette smoke in public spaces and wood-paneled basements adorned with macrame wall art, with potato chips in pastel Tupperware bowls on glass-topped coffee tables.

Classic '70s living room decor.

It was my primary and junior school music teacher and choir director that I have to thank. She introduced us to Jim Croce, Gordon Lightfoot, and Cat Stevens. I can still sing every word of their respective hits (Time in a Bottle, If You Could Read My Mind and Moonshadow) because we performed them in choir. I loved them all, although Moonshadow, despite its sweet melody, featured lyrics that were oddly unsettling to a nine-year-old who only understood poetry at a literal level:

“If I ever lose my hands…I won’t have to work no more.
If I ever lose my eyes… I won’t have to cry no more.
If I ever lose my legs…I won’t have to walk no more.”

At the time, that felt less like wisdom and more like fatalistic and misguided optimism. Even now, it’s one of several lyrics in the song that makes me pause. But I have to admit, it’s the double negative that bothers me more these days than the hypothetical loss of body parts.

Jack Miner Public School in Kingsville, Ontario where I attended in the 70s.

All of that ‘70s soft rock blurred in my mind. I knew the artists by name and was familiar with their hits and somewhere in that warm, slightly melancholy blend was James Taylor. I couldn’t have told you where one artist ended and another began. They were just part of a beautiful, warm and comfortable atmosphere.

James Taylor in the 70s.

It wasn’t until years later, in 1988, when my future wife and I watched the film Running On Empty that the blurring cleared. Based, in part, on the lives of Bill Ayers and Bernadine Dohrn of the Marxist militant organization, The Weatherman, the film follows a family on the run, living under assumed identities. It’s a quiet, human story about sacrifice, identity, and what parents owe their children, and what children, in turn, learn from their parents’ choices.

Movie poster for the film, Running On Empty.

During the movie, Taylor’s biggest hit, Fire and Rain, appeared and suddenly his folk-rock voice from my youth was back on my radar. Over the next few weeks, my wife and I became mildly obsessed with Taylor, digging deeper into his catalogue, including Sweet Baby James, his second studio record.

Album jacket for the single, Fire and Rain.

Released in 1970, Sweet Baby James became the album that defined Taylor. If his debut hinted at something special, this album delivered it fully formed: sparse arrangements, lyrical intimacy, and a voice that could sound both fragile and assured at the same time.

Born in Boston and raised in North Carolina, he came of age in the 1960s music scene, eventually becoming one of the first American artists signed to The Beatles’ Apple Records In fact, Paul McCartney played bass and George Harrison sang backing vocals on Taylor’s first hit, Carolina In My Mind.

James Taylor's self-titled debut record, on the Apple label.

However, success didn’t arrive as neatly and assuredly for the budding entertainer. There were struggles with addiction, mental health challenges, and stretches of instability that ran parallel to his early career.

Album jacket for the single, Carolina In My Mind. 

About a decade ago, Taylor was on Marc Maron’s WTF Podcast for a lengthy discussion about his life and career, including a tumultuous time in the late 1960s when he was first trying to make it as a musician with a band called The Flying Machine. He described being in New York City, strung out on heroin, broke, and living around Washington Square. He was essentially at the end of his rope and, out of options, he swallowed his pride and made a call to his father.

Album jacket for James Taylor's band, The Flying Machine (1967).

His father didn’t hesitate. He got on a plane immediately, flew to New York, rented a car, and drove him all the way home to North Carolina so he could get the help he needed. No lectures. No delay. Just: “I’m coming. We’ll fix this together”.

WTF with Marc Maron Podcast logo.

That story has stayed with me, not just because of what it says about James Taylor’s life, but because of what it represents: unconditional love in its most practical, immediate form.

Listening to Sweet Baby James, knowing that story, I don’t just hear the songs, I hear the fragility behind them and envision the invisible threads holding everything together.

And it makes me think about how lucky some of us are, including me. I grew up with the kind of support system that you don’t fully appreciate until later; the kind that lets you take risks because, deep down, you know you won’t fall alone. The kind that quietly reassures you…If you mess up, someone will be there for you.

Fortunate are those who have parents as their safety net.

And I did mess up, at times. Nothing spectacularly dramatic, but enough to know what it feels like to need someone in your corner, or maybe someone willing to lend you a few thousand dollars to get out of a financial jam you stupidly put yourself into.

What I always had, and what James Taylor had in that moment, was the knowledge that there was somewhere to land. And, on this weird tumultuous journey through a life filled with risks and pitfalls, that changes everything.

It doesn’t prevent you from falling, but it makes the fall survivable. It gives you permission to try, to wander, to make mistakes, to push beyond what feels safe, because “safe” isn’t something you have to carry on your own.

When I listen to Sweet Baby James now, I hear more than just another piece of that ‘70s singer-songwriter haze that surrounded my childhood. I hear a person in the middle of it all, finding success. I also reflect on my own trials, tribulations and, ultimately, triumphs and I am thankful that my parents have always been there for me.

The 500 - #105 - Modern Sounds In Country And Western Music, Volumes 1 & 2 - Ray Charles

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

---

Album: #105

Album Title: Modern Sounds In Country and Western Music, Volumes 1 &2

Artist: Ray Charles

Genre: Country reimagined as soul, gospel, R&B, Countrypolitan

Recorded: Capital Studios, New York City, and United Western, Hollywood U.S.A.

Released: March, 1962

My age at release: I was not born

How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all, although I did know many songs as country standards.

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #127, dropping 22 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: You Are My Sunshine

This week’s post may be shorter than most, though not for lack of material. If anything, it’s the opposite. June has arrived in that familiar blur that every teacher recognizes, bringing with it the convergence of deadlines, celebrations, and the steady hum of unfinished work. It is an annual rite as the school year ends with a torrent of urgency and anxiety that need to be dealt with. Report cards are being finalized, major projects are arriving in quick succession, and my desk has become an archaeological site of rubrics, feedback sheets, and half-drunk coffees.

My workspace - captured Saturday, June 6 at 1:40 pm.

In Science, my Grade 7s have been building cardboard arcade games as part of our Form and Function unit. The Makerspace is filled with ramps, levers, targets, and the constant classroom  negotiation over design ambition and structural reality.

One of the cardboard arcade games.

Upstairs, my Grade 6s have been writing standardized tests set by the provincial government of Ontario. When students get downtime from these mandatory assessments, I keep them busy with a unit based on Star Wars. It connects to their Science unit on the principles of flight. All of this in preparation for our year-end trip to see The Mandalorian and Grogu.

Poster for The Mandalorian and Grogu.

At the same time, the class has zig-zagged across the globe through Season 35 of The Amazing Race, using each leg of the reality show race as a springboard into geography and social studies. The Grade 6's, in particular, have been digging into Canada’s trading partners, trying to make sense of how goods  and resources move across borders, building international relationships. Balancing two curriculums simultaneously is always a challenge at this time of year. It feels like trying to keep multiple spinning plates on sticks while someone adds more.

Promotional poster for The Amazing Race.

In the middle of all this, life beyond school continues. This weekend,  my dad and his wife visited  to attend my nephew’s wedding. The pace was different, with the usual domestic routines subjugated to conversation, shared meals, car juggling and the small rituals that come with having family nearby. In that environment, It’s in that space, somewhere between a cluttered table of school reports, assignment marking,  blog writing, and formal wear preparation, that this week’s album found its place to shine.

Album cover for Modern Sounds - Volume 1.

Ray Charles’ Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music played in the background throughout the weekend, fitting this moment in a way that last week’s record could not. As much as I appreciated Rocket to Russia, it’s not exactly built for easy conversation over dinner. Ray Charles, on the other hand, perfectly suited the mood. It’s the kind of music that doesn’t demand your full attention, but satisfies it when you give it. More importantly, it’s the kind of record my dad and his wife genuinely seemed to enjoy.

Album cover for Modern Sounds - Volume 2.

Released six months apart, but now available as a single album set, Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, falls into a category that was new to me: "Countrypolitan". It’s a style that sits at the intersection of country and pop.

Poster for a Countrypolitan Radio Station
Orlando, Florida, 1965.

A helpful overview on Wikipedia traces this shift back to the early 1960s, when the polished Nashville sound began to face serious competition from two very different directions. On the country side, the raw, stripped-down Bakersfield sound pushed back against established country music's slickness, while on the pop front, the British Invasion reshaped music tastes entirely. These developments were deeply affected by the tragic deaths of two of Nashville’s leading voices -- Patsy Cline and Jim Reeves, both lost in separate plane crashes.

Record cover for Nashville Sound, featuring Cline and Reeves.

In response, Nashville doubled down on refinement. This new sound evolved into countrypolitan, a smoother, more commercially minded style characterized by lush string arrangements, full orchestras, and frequent adornment of  rich background vocals often provided by choirs. The goal was clearly to appeal to mainstream audiences.

A Countrypolitan Record from 1966.

Enter Ray Charles, who prized these Country and Western music standards for their melody and directness of their lyrics. However, it is important to note that Charles was not asked to create a Countrypolitan sound. He chose to reimagine these songs by replacing "fiddle and steel" arrangements by adding strings, horns and backing vocals. He also infused elements of gospel, R&B and soul into these orchestrations. It was textbook Countrypolitan, but Charles got there independently.

Ray Charles performing live with an orchestra.

Listening to Charles' Modern Country now, in the middle of a chaotic June weekend, it’s striking how effortless it feels. One wouldn't think this was a record that was challenging expectations. It sounds natural and comfortable; as if it has always belonged.  It is another reminder that makes working through The 500 so compelling. I came into this project thinking I’d be revisiting familier and discovering new artists. What I didn’t expect was how often I’d be reframing what I thought I already knew. An album I had never listened to before this week turns out to be a bridge, between country and soul, between markets, between generations, and, in a small way, between my classroom chaos and a weekend spent with family.

I guess the post wasn't that short after all. Regardless, it is back to report cards and family visits.

The 500 - #106 - Rocket To Russia - The Ramones

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

---

Album: #106

Album Title: Rocket To Russia

Artist: The Ramones

Genre: Punk, Surf Rock, Pop Rock

Recorded: Media Sound and Sundragon Studios, New York City, U.S.A.

Released: November, 1977

My age at release: 12, but my guest blogger was not born

How familiar was I with it before this week: I knew some songs, but my guest blogger was new to it

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #385, dropping 279 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Cretin Hop

For the sixth consecutive year, I asked the students in my class if they would be interested in being a guest poster on my #The500Blog series. To my delight, Hadley volunteered. This year our school was reorganized in September, and my Grade 7 class became a Grade 6/7 split. Although I lost five Grade 7 students, I was delighted to welcome 10 enthusiastic Grade 6 pupils into our learning space. Among them was Hadley, an infectiously positive and funny 11-year-old who immediately shared her love of music with me. I was thrilled when she offered to write this post and is now the youngest guest-blogger I have hosted. Enjoy her discovery of Rocket To Russia, by The Ramones.

A recent picture of Hadley, with our classroom's NHL Stanley
Cup Tournament behind her.

Helloooo, world. I’m Hadley and I'm a Grade 6 student at Sir Arthur Currie Public school in London, Ontario. I am your guest blogger for this week and I chose to write about Rocket to Russia by The Ramones. The album was released in 1977 and I wasn't born yet. In fact, I wouldn't be born until 37 years later...talk about an age gap, eh? Let me tell you a little about myself! I’m 11 years and 9 months old. I play rugby, draw in my free time and listen to music!

I picked Rocket To Russia because I already was familiar with some of the Ramones' music and their high energy sound. When I was around seven my eldest sister introduced me to them, and I liked them right away. I am a fan of punk rock music.

The Ramones in 1977, (l-r) Dee Dee, Tommy, Joey and Johnny Ramone.

Originally, I was supposed to write about Aftermath by The Rolling Stones, which was on the list a few weeks ago at #109, but unfortunately I got very sick so I was unable to do it. I had picked it because I am a fan of the song, Paint It Black. 

Album cover for Aftermath by The Rolling Stones.

My favourite artists currently are Noah Kahan, Hozier and Mitski, but I'm open to any type of music. I've listened to everything from Taylor Swift to Rush, currently my favorite song is Copacabana by Barry Manilow. It's a great song and I definitely recommend it.

When I first heard the title Rocket to Russia I thought of, well, what anybody would think of, a rocket traveling to Russia. As I stated earlier I was familiar with some of the Ramones’ music but this record was new to me. I was curious and picked it as the album to write about because of that unusual title. When I listened the first time, several songs intrigued me. The first three, Cretin Hop, Rockaway Beach, and Here Today, Gone Tomorrow are catchy and energetic. However, it was the track Teenage Lobotomy that first resonated with me because the title was so surprising. However, after listening through the record a few times I settled on Cretin Hop, the first track on the album. 

Album cover for the single to a live version of Cretin Hop.

A "cretin" is a word usually used as an insult for someone who is extremely stupid or foolish. Originally, the word used to be used in the medical world because a “cretin” referred to someone afflicted by cretinism, a congenital medical condition caused by untreated thyroid deficiency (often due to a lack of dietary iodine) that results in stunted physical growth and intellectual disability. The Ramones were aware of the word's history when they wrote this song which does not insult people who may be cretins. Instead, they are identifying with people who are different and the song is supposed to show support for all misfits and outcasts who don't easily fit into the world.

From Wikipedia, a person afflicted with Cretinism.

I personally liked this song the most on the album because of the catchy beat and the flow of the lyrics. I also like the way that the Ramones found a way to work in dark humor, which I also like to work into my conversations with friends. They are a band that doesn't take itself too seriously and I like that about them.

To finish off I decided to interviewing my teacher, Mr. Hodgkinson.

Me: Were you familiar with the band?

Mr. H: I was. I first heard about them when the movie Rock and Roll High School was in theatres. It was advertised in some of the magazines I loved, including National Lampoon.  That movie came out the summer before I went into Grade 9 and I really wanted to see it, but it wasn’t playing at the theatre in the small town where I lived. I was intrigued by it because it seemed to be a little dangerous and I was already a big fan of comedies like that. I was also starting to figure out what kind of music I liked. The poster looked like something out of Mad Magazine and was similar to the Animal House poster -- another movie I was desperate to see because of the reputation it already had among my friends.

Rock and Roll High School and Animal House movie posters.

Me: Were you familiar with this album in particular?

Mr. H.: I knew of the album, but did not own it. I am now familiar with many of the tracks, but I don’t think I ever listened to it in order until it came up on this list.

Me: Speaking of the songs, which is your favorite?

Mr. H: I’ve always liked Rockaway Beach, I love all things New York City. I’ve been there many times and even got married there. One of my favorite things to do there is to visit places made famous in songs and movies. So, I’ve been to Coney Island and Brighton Beach, but I have yet to make it to Rockaway Beach -- that is a future trip, for sure. I also love the cover songs on the record -- Do You Wanna Dance? And Surfin’ Bird.

Rockaway Beach lyrics.

Me: After listening to the album, what's your overall favorite thing about it?

Mr. H: I love the energy it brings. It is the kind of record that makes me want to move. I can see it being motivating during a gym workout. I also like that it is fearless. As you know, I often tell my students to “be willing to be a little ridiculous” when we are doing improv games or drama activities. The Ramones seem fearless and give themselves permission to have fun. I think I dismissed this music too easily as a kid because I was drawn toward more complex music - Rush, Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis. Now I realize that there is something wonderful about unabashed energy, enthusiasm and just trying something, like punk rock music, because it is fun.

Me: Thanks.

In my eyes the Ramones will always be legendary band no matter if I’m 11 or 26 they are forever in my thoughts and forever a brilliant band!

Thank you for reading!

Hadley

The 500 - #107 - Portrait of a Legend - Sam Cooke

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

---

Album: #107
Album Title: Portrait of a Legend (1951-1964)
Artist: Sam Cooke
Genre: Soul, R&B, Gospel
Recorded: Multiple Studios

Released: June, 2004
My age at release: 39, but songs were recorded before I was born
How familiar was I with it before this week: Fairly
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #307, dropping 200 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: A Change Is Gonna Come

There are songs we attach to artists. These are the signature pieces that feel inseparable from the person who recorded them. You hear the opening notes and you don’t just think of the song, you think of them. A few that immediately come to mind for me...(and are also, unsurprisingly, on The 500 list) include:

• Born To Run - Bruce Springsteen
• Purple Rain - Prince
• Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen
• Stairway To Heaven - Led Zeppelin
• (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction - Rolling Stones

And then there are few, legendary songs that don't quite stay put. They still belong to an artist, but they outgrow him or her. They become something else...something that doesn’t feel locked to a single moment or a single voice.

It is often said that "history repeats itself". I’ve never been sure that’s true and  believe it is more accurate to say that "history echoes". The same shapes return, the same tensions surface, but never in exactly the same way. Some songs work like that, too. They don’t just mark a moment, they wait for the next one. Such is the case I will make for A Change Is Gonna Come, the 29th track on the 30 song anthology from Sam Cooke, Portrait of a Legend (1951-1964).

Label to the 45 RPM single for A Change Is Gonna Come.

The story of this song began on October 8, 1963. Sam Cooke and his entourage of musicians and family members arrived in Shreveport, Louisiana for a pre-booked reservation at the local Holiday Inn. They had just finished performing as the headliners at the Municipal Auditorium on a bill that included many other African American artists.

A battered poster from the October 8th show.

When they reached the front desk, they were told there were no vacancies. The explanation rang hollow and Cooke immediately recognized what was happening. He refused to accept the situation quietly and demanded to see the manager, standing his ground even as those around him, including his wife, urged caution. Eventually, the group left, but frustration spilled out as horns blared and words were shouted into the night. By the time they reached another motel downtown, the police were already waiting. Cooke and others were arrested for disturbing the peace.

Postcard for the Holiday Inn at 1906 North Market St. in Shreveport, Louisiana.

The next day, a New York Times headline reduced the incident to something easily dismissed...and woefully myopic: “Negro Band Leader Held in Shreveport.”

However, within Black communities, the reaction was anything but placid. There was outrage born from the understanding that this wasn’t an isolated incident, but part of a larger, familiar pattern in the Jim Crow South.

Jim Crow laws were a system of state and local laws
in the American South that enforced racial segregation
and denied Black Americans basic rights.

After his release, Cooke reflected on the protest song Blowing In The Wind, which had been released by Bob Dylan that autumn of 1963. Cooke was moved by Dylan's lyrics, but also wondered how such a poignant anthem for civil rights had been penned by a white musician. He would later say he was ashamed that he had not written something so important himself.

Lyrics to Blowing In The Wind - Bob Dylan.

Cooke was further influenced by the message in the now-famous I Have A Dream speech that had been delivered earlier that summer in Washington by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.  As winter approached, Cooke sat down to write A Change Is Gonna Come, reportedly completing it in less than an hour on his guitar. Not content with his initial, stripped down version, Cooke wanted it to be recorded with a full orchestra with each verse presented as a different movement. The string section would carry the first, the horns the second and the timpani delivering the bridge. In the final movement, it all comes together However, instead of swelling to a big crescendo, it remains restrained. It is the sound of waiting...waiting for the change that is "gonna come".

Lyrics to A Change Is Gonna Come.

A Change Is Gonna Come delivered the cultural gut-punch Cooke intended and it was embraced by the Civil Rights Movement and audiences in general, placing well on contemporary music charts. However, it is a song that was not tied down by that generation. It has continued to resonate for more than 50 years.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivers his I Have A Dream speech.

Wisely, Cooke speaks in general truths and not specifics. He does not name a place, a law, an event or a protest. He has penned a song that seems to hold hope, anger, defiance and uncertainty in equal measures. Consequently, the line "it's been a long time coming" can fit any generation. In 1964, it sounded like a promise and in each subsequent decade it echoed like a necessary reflection.

Sam Cooke recording in a smoky studio, 1960s.

In the 1970s, the song settled into an era still grappling with the promises of the ’60s. By the 1980s, when I first heard it, it was appearing in documentaries and biopics, becoming a kind of shorthand for unfinished business. In the 1990s, as contemporary black artists recorded their own versions, the recording took on an educational role, offering moral clarity as the century closed. In the 2000s, it surfaced again, aligning with the optimism of the Obama era. And in 2020, it returned once more, sounding as relevant as ever during a summer marked by the deaths of young black men at the hands of police.

More than half a century later, Shreveport finally atoned for the blatant racism with an apology delivered from a festival stage, offered to Cooke’s daughter, Mary. The world was very different from the one her father had stood on that fateful night in 1963.  And though the events could not be undone, the city’s acknowledgement of a big social wrong was a sure sign that change had indeed come.  Hopefully, similar gestures will continue in order to craft a better world.

Mary Cooke accepting the key to the city and an apology
on stage in Shreveport, June 22, 2019.