Published on May 11, 1998
You don’t hear too much from the rock band Chicago these days
(never mind the fact they have a new album due out May 12th), but
at one time, this rock and brass ensemble was putting out some of
the best-known singles of their time. And even though it might be
unhip to people in my age group to admit to it, I still like a lot
of Chicago’s singles – the same music I grew up with in the mid- to
late-’70s.
Unfortunately, the band’s albums could be spotty, and often
you’d have to wade through some real granola to get to the songs
you liked. (This is one reason why “greatest hits” compilations are
so popular – you don’t need the musical pooper-scooper.) As an
example, let’s look at Chicago’s 1969 debut album,
Chicago Transit Authority. This longer title, by the way,
used to be the band’s name – that is, until then-mayor Richard J.
Daley got pissed off and threatened to sue the band.
At first glance, who would think such a combination would ever
work? On the rock side, you had lead guitarist/vocalist Terry Kath,
basisst/vocalist Peter Cetera, keyboaridst/vocalist Robert Lamm and
drummer Daniel Seraphine. On the “horn” side, you had Lee Loughnane
on trumpet, James Pankow on trombone and Walter Parazaider on
woodwinds. Admittedly, this was a strange mixture -never mind the
fact that Jethro Tull had successfully worked a flute into a rock
band, and Blood, Sweat & Tears had pulled off a similar
combination.
But on the first record of this set, Chicago shows they have the
capability to pull off such a combination, as well as combining
rock and jazz (and even a touch of blues) into the mix. Two early
hits, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?” and “Beginnings,”
demonstrate the mystique and power that Chicago had in these early
days. Pankow’s chances to solo should serve as a surprise to any
kid whose parents are “making” them take music lessons on an
instrument like the trombone. (Ironically, Pankow graduated from
the same high school that I went to… but that’s giving almost too
much away about who I am…)
The first record continues to hold its own quite well, even on
some of the lesser-known tracks (at least lesser-known these days)
on “Questions 67 And 68” and “Listen”. But by the time you hit
“Poem 58,” one rather nasty habit of Chicago’s becomes evident:
their playing often seems self-absorbed, and that hurts the overall
groove. “Poem 58” is a jazz mixture that is seemingly played for
its own sake, and the track, while not atrocious, doesn’t hold up
as well.
The second album is where the problems really come into their
own – and makes me wonder if lopping this double-set into a single
release wouldn’t have been a bad idea in 1969. “Freeform Guitar”
pretty much lives up to its name, as Kath makes his axe sound like
he’s thrown it into a wood chipper – it ain’t pleasant to hear.
“I’m A Man” goes off into a bizarre tangent in the middle that
doesn’t seem to have a logical ending in it at all – so they just
jump back into the song. Bad idea.
The fourth side is the weakest, a side that epitomizes the anger
and the excess that was in the United States in the late Sixties.
Two cuts revolving around the protests that occurred at the
Democratic National Convention in Chicago in 1968 (including one
which is just a soundbite from a protest outside the Convention)
echo the anger in the country at the time – would I be wrong to say
this was part of the Yippie movement? The “power-to-the-people”
message was relevant in 1969, I’m sure, but it sounds ever so dated
now, almost 30 years afterwards. (Plus, the Democrats have been
back to Chicago since then, and have made nice-nice with the
city.)
The excess of that time took the form of improvisational
“jamming,” as witnessed in the almost 16-minute gutbuster
“Liberation”. There are a few good moments to this piece, but after
a while, you find yourself praying for the song to end. Now, there
aren’t that many bands that can pull improvisational material off
that well, though there are a small handful that come to mind.
(Even the Dead couldn’t do it successfully every night.) Why should
Chicago be an exception on their first album?
Admittedly,
Chicago Transit Authority is not a bad album overall, and on
subsequent listens you do find more to enjoy. But no matter how
many times you slap this one on the turntable or in the CD changer,
it is hard to get past the filler and the more dated material on
the album – and that may be the biggest obstacle that Chicago would
have to overcome. (It didn’t seem like they learned their lesson by
the time they reached album number four, a four-record live set
that you have to be either a sadist or a fanatic to get through in
one sitting.)
Chicago Transit Authority showcased a young band that, when
they had all the cards aligned, demonstrated their great abilities
and their future stardom. But when you have to pick through the
album to find those songs, you understand the popularity of the
greatest-hits compilations.
I often wish that the liner notes gave a clue as to who was
performing the lead vocal on what track. I know Cetera’s voice; you
can tell that’s him on “Questions 67 And 68,” but I’d guess that
Lamm handled the bulk of the lead vocals on
Chicago Transit Authority.