A few weeks ago, my lovely English professor, referencing to my blog's uncommon focus, expressed a bit of confusion over my intense interest in the 1970s: "I must say, I've had students who are really into a certain period, like the Civil War era, but I've never had someone who is so interested in the 1970s. It's...interesting."
At the time, I hadn't given my passion for this peculiar decade much thought, and since "I like it because I like it" doesn't really have a nice ring to it, I just smiled and agreed that indeed, it is..."interesting." But it got me wondering, why do I have such an interest in the 70s? So now, seeing as this is my last post on Gospel of the Piano Man (trust me, I'm much sadder than you are) I feel like answering this question will be a nice way to wrap up this series. So without further ado...
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To be honest, the 1970s don't look so great on paper. They're a collection of years tainted by so many tragically memorable events. The violence of the Vietnam War caused an incredible wave of distress and disillusionment. Watergate dethroned our nation's leader and unveiled the ugly truth of corruption in America. The Munich Massacre. The energy crisis. The Kent State shootings. The break-up of the Beatles.
And if that wasn't enough, the decade also has the misfortune of being sandwiched between the psychedelic sixties and the glamorous eighties. I mean, who cares about earth tones and rusty orange when we can talk about Woodstock or the rise of the supermodel?
The common sentiment might be best summed up by Elizabeth Wollman of the Gilder Lehrman Institute of American History who writes:
"The 1970s gets a bad rap. Rarely revered as a glorious- or even particularly memorable- time in contemporary American history, the seventies is more often seen as the sad stepchild to the 1960s, which is celebrated as a decade of peace, love, and revolutionary social change. In sharp contrast with the 1960s, the 1970s was painted, even as it progressed, as an era of crushing disappointment: defeat in Vietnam, bad or downright corrupt political leadership, staggering economic problems, disenchantment, disenfranchisement, and inane fads."
And yet, the 70s remain my decade of choice. I've done some soul searching and uncovered some reasons why the seventies, despite all its faults, will always be my decade, and the first place I travel once we finally master the art of time travel.
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Roots
If you listened to my This I believe podcast or read my post about my favorite place on Earth, you know that my love of history really stems from stories of my mom's 1970s childhood in the suburbs of Philadelphia. So I guess that's where you can say my love of the seventies stems from too. After all, it was from my mom that I grew to love the wonderful 70s music scene, and from my grandparents that I was able to spend time in a home that could have passed for a museum of the home decor and technology of the decade.
Music
This one probably shouldn't come as much of a surprise, seeing that I usually can't go more than one week without writing about my favorite singers of the decade. And can you blame me? The 70s had it all when it came to music. On the west coast you could chill with the likes of the Eagles, Joni Mitchell, and CSNY, then hop over to the east coast and disco the night away (or rock out with the one and only Billy Joel). Whether you want harmony and good vibes or something a bit grittier, the 70s are your one stop music shop.
Hair
Randy Meisner, ca 1970s
I don't have very much to say on this topic, other than that a very surreal moment for me was watching the Eagles documentary shortly after getting a foot of my hair chopped off and some legit fringe added to my forehead and realizing that I had just gotten the same haircut as guitarist Randy Meisner. I consider this both a great honor and a testament to the amazing hair of the 70s.
People
Ugh, I know. It's so hard for me not to be cheesy in these posts (but then again it's my last, so I don't feel that bad about it). In this blog, I've always tried to focus on the people behind the events, the cultural phenomena, the one-hit wonders, and the movements that changed history. Despite the war, despite the economic struggle, despite the corruptness of politics, there were some beautiful things that came out of that decade. Like the cliche classic metaphor of the flower growing out of the crack in the pavement, the people of the 70s made it a decade worth remembering and celebrating.
I love reading self-help career articles (you know, the ones published by Forbes and Fast Company that have titles like "how to ace the interview without selling yourself" and "six habits of highly successful business owners". I probably spend a good few hours a week reading those articles, feeling empowered for all of 15 minutes, and then promptly forgetting everything I just read and starting all over again.
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I also really love the muppets (stay with me here). I love their bright colors, their zany personalities (looking at you Animal), and honestly I just enjoy saying the word "muppet." But most of all, I love this musical number from Disney's 2011 film The Muppets, starring Jason Segel and muppet "Walter":
That song is definitely one of the happiest (and funniest) things I've ever seen-- which got me thinking... who is the man who started it all? So this week, I want to tell you about the man behind the muppets: the one and only Jim Henson.
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You really can learn a lot about a person from watching his/her funeral (yes, I am aware of how creepy that sounds). But really, as I was researching Henson's life for this post I kept happening upon articles and videos from Henson's memorial services in 1990. And from reading about his requests that no one wear black, to watching the moving musical numbers by Big Bird and the muppets (really), to listening to moving eulogies by his friends, I felt that I gleaned so much about Henson and his life. What struck me most was that he was incredibly loved by everyone who knew him-- something rather uncommon for a person of his immense success. He actually reads like a poster child for how to succeed in life and your career. So (and this is where that first part comes into play) I'd like to use my recent obsession with self-help and my fascination of Henson to give you some advice that I might imagine Henson giving if he had written a self-help book.
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Pursue other creative outlets
Henson is best known for blessing the world with his wonderful and whimsical puppets that became the famous characters of The Muppets and Sesame Street. But did you know that he was nominated for an Academy Award in 1966 for an experimental short film he made? Or that he came this close to opening a nightclub named Cyclia "that would immerse its patrons into a perfectly synchronized environment of music, images, and dance?" Henson focused on the ventures that brought him commercial success, but also set aside the time to pursue his "passion projects."
The takeaway: No matter what you do, make room in your schedule to pursue your passions. This will bolster your creativity and lead you to performing better in your worklife.
Pay attention to detail
In a eulogy both hilarious and truly touching, Henson's work partner and close friend Frank Oz tells a story about a homemade gift Henson once gave him for Christmas. And what struck Oz most about it was the attention to detail and the intricacy of the piece. Henson took the time to pay attention to the tiniest details of his work in order to achieve the effect he wanted.
The takeaway: It's important to go the extra mile; if you notice the little things, people will notice you.
Be grateful
According to Oz, Henson not only noticed the little things- he truly appreciated them and soaked in their presence whenever possible. He appreciated so many of the things we take for granted on a daily basis: warm weather, taking walks, and especially dessert. And Oz believed this was a part of Henson's magic: "I think life was just this dessert for him. I really don't believe that Jim could have been such an extraordinary creator if he hadn't been such an extraordinary appreciator."
The takeaway: Show appreciation and gratefulness for the small joys and successes in your life; positive energy can take you far.
Create Something
Above all, Henson's legacy is the beautiful things he brought into the world: his films, his sesame street characters, his muppets. Henson was able to give back by creating something that continues to have a positive impact on the world- decades after his passing. His work continuously brings laughter, song, and education to children and adults alike.
The takeaway: Life is better when you create things.
Care about people
Must I say more?
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Bonus: Here is a picture of my sister Chrissy with the Jim Henson statue at the University of Maryland (their shared alma mater).
"Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me"
- Three Dog Night
If you hadn't noticed, I have a tendency to get a bit 'deep' in my blog posts. One second I'm writing an innocuous description of film in the 1970s, and the next I'm contemplating the very purpose of life itself. It's just part of my personality I suppose. But for this post, I'm determined to keep things light-hearted, because the truth is, not everything needs to have some mysterious and profound meaning to be special. And as much as I may like to believe it, not everything in the seventies can be linked to the tragedies and triumphs of the human spirit.
Some things just were, and that was enough. So in this installment of "oh no she's about to talk about music again" I'll be providing my curated list of feel good 70s hits, no analysis or deep thoughts required (but always encouraged). Enjoy!
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For when you want to be transported to another world...
"Mexico" by James Taylor-- A song with a sunny disposition and the glorious harmonizing of James Taylor is all I need to take a three-minute beach vacation. After listening to this, you'll be asking your bewildered classmate to pass the sunscreen.
"September" by Earth, Wind & Fire-- It's impossible to sit still while listening to this song. I've never thought of September as my favorite month, but those "ba-dee-dahs" make me wish I were 'dancing in September.'
"December, 1963" by The Four Seasons-- I've never mentioned it on this blog because the majority of their music was produced before the 1970s, but Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons are my favorite guilty pleasure band. And listening to the disco-tinted "December, 1963" is like consuming copious amounts of your favorite artificially-hued candy, with none of the regret.
For when you want to kick back and bask in your idealism...
"Peace Train" by Cat Stevens-- The style of this song is so cool (the alternating rhythm, the gospelesque backup, the fact that it's sung by a guy named Cat Stevens), and that's before you even start to listen to the lyrics. Where can I get tickets to the peace train?
"Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night-- This song is the embodiment of the carefree and harmonious world we all long to live in, and best of all it knows not to take itself too seriously.
"I'd to Teach the World to Sing" by the New Seekers-- Yes, this is the song of Coke commercial fame, and I actually enjoy the Coke version better than the one untainted by American capitalism (I am only slightly ashamed).
For when you just want to listen to an awesome song...
"Rosalita" by Bruce Springsteen-- Honestly, there isn't much I'd rather do than listen to the sprawling, rasping voice of The Boss convince the forbidden Rosie to "come out tonight" in this sequence of jubilant pleas.
"Bennie and the Jets" by Elton John-- I first heard this song featured in what I consider the defining scene in the rom-com classic 27 Dresses, so I couldn't care less that I have absolutely no idea what Elton John is singing about. If it's good enough for Katherine Heigl and James Marsden, it's good enough for me.
"Beast of Burden" by the Rolling Stones and "The Weight" by The Band-- In my humble opinion, you really need to watch Jimmy Fallon (and Billy Joel! and the Muppets!) perform these songs before you can claim to have lived.
Okay, first of all I just want to say that the title of this post definitely sounds like the name of Broadway's next offbeat but critically-acclaimed musical. But I digress...
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I've always loved learning about the presidents. In general, I find it the most rewarding to study history through the eyes of the people who lived it, but there is something about the presidents in particular that truly fascinate me. How their roles and ideologies have evolved over centuries, how a single person can shape so much of our world, and how these men who are supposed to be the embodiment of "presidential" are flawed people, just like the rest of us. The standards, the scandals, the style- I love it all.
However, I cannot say that my love is spread equally: there are two presidents in particular that most often peak my interest-- and coincidentally, they both served in the 1970s (I know you must be shocked). They are our 37th and 39th presidents: Richard M. Nixon and Jimmy Carter (respectively).
So you may be wondering, what is so interesting about these two people? And why do I love comparing things so much? The latter question I'm afraid I cannot answer, but the first I most certainly can. Keep reading and prepare to meet your new favorite presidents.
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Richard Nixon served as president from 1969-1974, before resigning in the middle of his second term (he is the only president to ever resign from office). You probably know him best from the Watergate Scandal- the direct cause of his resignation to avoid impeachment. You probably think he's a crook. But did you know that before his presidency went down in flames, he had impressively high ratings and won his second term by the largest margins in history? Indeed, it was Nixon who improved relations with the USSR and China, Nixon who passed legislation to limit the production of nuclear arms, Nixon who brought an end to American involvement in the Vietnam War, Nixon who created the EPA. I'm not saying that Nixon's presidency was flawless (his economic policies brought trouble for the latter half of the decade) but it's difficult to deny that as far as presidents go, he was downright successful.
But for most Americans, his legacy doesn't extend far past his scandal. For some, he will always be a disgraced criminal, for others, a foolish figure whose legacy resurfaces every few months when the newest scandal embeds itself in the pop psyche: Deflategate, Bridgegate, Donutgate. In the weeks leading to Nixon's resignation, his Secretary of State Henry Kissinger pondered that Watergate would be a "minor footnote" in history and that in due time people would come to respect Nixon for his successes. He was wrong.
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Before I say anything about Jimmy Carter, I want you to know that our 39th president of the United States, now 91, won A GRAMMY this year. Which is amazing, but probably wasn't that exciting for Carter, considering that he ALREADY HAD A GRAMMY. That's right, Jimmy Carter has TWO Grammys, and although he's no Taylor Swift (his awards are for the audio recording of his memoirs), he's still a lot closer than me.
But onto the Jimmy Carter that history cares about. In terms of his presidency, Jimmy Carter is pretty much the mirror opposite of Nixon. He was an unpopular one-term president who in many ways simply didn't fit the decade. He was an idealist, and at a time when the United States was becoming increasingly on edge with international affairs, Carter's main goal was to make government "competent and compassionate" and make humanity the driving force in diplomacy.
His disastrous "Crisis of Confidence" speech alienated most of the American public (he essentially placed the burden for America's problems on the back of the nation's "poor spirit"), and the Iran Hostage Crisis sealed the deal for his 1980 defeat by Ronald Reagan.
But after his presidency ended, Carter went on to work heavily with Habitat for Humanity and vigorously advocated for basic human rights in Africa, Central America, and Asia. In 2002, he won the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts with his organization, the Carter Center. He is considered to be one of the most successful ex-presidents in history.
A successful president whose own paranoia destroyed his legacy. An idealist whose values tarnished his presidency but validated his work in the twilight of his life. I love the 70s, but I would find these two fascinating in any decade.
There's just something special about a one-hit wonder. There are millions of aspiring singers and bands who never make it out of the garage or the local bar, and there are thousands more who produce hits that consistently climb to the top of the charts. But there are only so many of that rare breed of performer who are seemingly blessed by the music gods only once in their career. For them, fame may be fleeting, but their work lives on in quirky and nostalgia-inducing ways, often encapsulating both the five weeks spent at the top of the Billboard Hot 100 and years to come.
So without further ado, my three favorite one-hit wonders of the 1970s:
----------------------------------------------------- Harry Chapin: "Cat's in the Cradle"
This folksy classic from 1974 tells the poignant story of the strained relationship between a son and his dad, and features a final verse that really packs a punch. Despite being Chapin's only number one hit, this song is considered a staple of the folk-rock genre. And what did Chapin do after his music career? He went on to become a humanitarian and vocal advocate in the fight against world hunger, and has event won a Congressional Gold Medal- not too shabby.
I know, I know- Don McLean isn't technically a one-hit wonder (he has a second #1 hit: "Vincent") but I'm willing to bet that the vast majority of Americans know McLean only for his epic masterpiece "American Pie," which cryptically recounts the deaths of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J.P. Richarson in 1959. Despite being composed of mostly nonsensical (yet iconic) lyrics, the song is still easily recognizable on both an emotional level and an "I just want to dance and sing along" level. It's also one of the most musically diverse songs I've ever heard, featuring a tone that shifts from somber to jubilant and back to somber again over the course of its eight-minute runtime. "American Pie" spent four weeks at number one in 1972, and has since been named the #5 song of the century by RIAA.
Norman Greenbaum is my favorite one-hit wonder of all time. Of course, I love "Spirit in the Sky," but I love the story behind it so much more. For anyone unfamiliar with the perennial hit, the song is basically this folksy singer/songwriter gospel mashup. Many find the lyrics odd, especially one in particular ("I'm not a sinner // I've never sinned // I've got a friend in Jesus"). Anyone familiar with Christianity knows that one of the religion's basic pillars is that all humans sin. So why would Greenbaum include a line like this in his song? Because he's Jewish! His inspiration for "Spirit in the Sky" came from watching Dolly Parton sing a gospel on TV- Greenbaum got out his pencil and wrote the lyrics to his most famous hit in less than 15 minutes.
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Thanks for reading- see you back next time!
Before the 1970s, people didn't really run "for fun," and jogging was nowhere close to being in vogue. The 1972 Munich Olympics changed that: it was there that Frank Shorter became the first American since Johnny Hayes (1908) to win the men's marathon. The dramatic event, broadcasted on ABC and the source of one of the most famous sporting lines of all time was the spark of what would eventually become known as the running boom of the 1970s. The television broadcast of the marathon brought the sport of long-distance running into the living rooms of millions across the United States, and changed people's perceptions of what the sport could be (or educated them- many people had never even heard of a marathon).
Steve Prefontaine
At the same time, other well-known runners were skyrocketing the popularity of running. Perhaps the most celebrated is Steve Prefontaine- the young running prodigy from Coos Bay, Oregon who never lost a single race in his NCAA career at the University of Oregon, and who ultimately died tragically at the age of 24.
Prefontaine (also known affectionately as "Pre") was a middle and long distance runner who won 120 of the 153 races he ran, and at one point held the American record in seven different track events. Unlike other runners who typically mesmerize crowds, Prefontaine didn't run elegantly or smoothly; rather, he made a show of the immense effort he put into his craft, and often looked "ravaged" by the end of a race. Known for his mustache and long hair, Pre quickly became a recognizable and iconic figure in the running community.
Oh, and his coach was the legendary Bill Bowerman, who you might know as the co-founder of Nike. You may know that it was Bowerman who first designed and manufactured the classic waffled Nike sole pattern, but did you know that he actually used his wife's waffle iron (and eventually ruined it) to achieve the effect? Bowerman employed many of his running protegees (including Prefontaine) at the company- thus truly merging the sport and the product.
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Many long distance runners enjoy competing because it provides an opportunity to challenge and better oneself- it's both an introspective and exhilarating endeavor. It's true that you're always racing against yourself.
Those unfamiliar with the sport may associate it with solitude, or a lack of the comradery-building teamwork associated with sports like soccer or football. But ultimately, running is about the community- the people who run every day and know how challenging it is to do so. This quality has been a prominent element of the sport since its start. Prefontaine was good friends with both Bowerman and Shorter, and on a much grander scale fought for the rights of all amateur athletes. And perhaps more importantly, he was most assuredly a fixture in his community of Northeastern Oregon: a testament to the fact that, like so many other things in the 70s, the running boom was a grassroots movement that transformed the nation.
"Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities.
Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning."
- Gloria Steinem, feminist icon
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... there I was, researching Steve Prefontaine quotes for the post I had planned to write on the 1970s running boom when "It's Too Late" by Carole King came on Pandora. As I cheerfully bobbed along, an exceptionally distressing thought crossed my mind- "Oh my God. I haven't written about any women."
This I am sorry to say, is true. Over the span of five months of blogging and seven posts on seventies culture, I never once talked at length about any influential women from the decade. Suffice it to say I was mortified by this discovery. Today I am going to right my wrongs.
Being one of the millions of women who have reaped innumerable benefits from the second-wave feminist movement that flourished in the seventies, I feel it's my privilege (and the least I can do) to tell you a bit about my favorite women of the decade. And because it was the superb voice of Carole King that informed me of my worrisome forgetfulness (and because it seems that I have a penchant for writing about musicians anyway) I figure it's only fitting that this week I'm writing about the women who ruled the radio in the seventies- specifically two of the most widely celebrated songwriters of the decade: Carole King and Joni Mitchell.
Prefontaine will have to wait. This post is all about the girls.
-------------------------------------------------------------- Carole King
Carole King is perhaps best known for her album Tapestry, which held the number one spot on the Billboard 200 for 15 consecutive weeks in 1971 and has since sold over 25 million copies worldwide. Her earnest harmonies made her a leading figure in the singer-songwriter explosion of the early 70s (along with longtime friend and collaborator James Taylor).
The seventies were a time when people were searching for a message they could hold onto. King drew inspiration from the ubiquitous uneasiness caused by the Vietnam War and mixed that with her own personal turmoil (volatile relationships, mainly) to craft songs so authentic that they spoke to nearly everyone, making her music as much a product of the decade as of her own pen and piano.
What I find most endearing about King is that she didn't start out looking for stardom- she was originally a writer. She and her then-husband Gerry Goffin penned hit after hit for famous bands and singers throughout the sixties (most notably "Natural Woman," Aretha Franklin's soaring power ballad). King has been the brains behind over 100 Billboard entries and has gone on to record many of those hits herself. And in the seventies, her natural look and bold, untouched curls redefined what a beautiful woman could look like at a time when supermodels were on the rise.
Perhaps best summed up by George Scott, the director of a biographical documentary on the singer, the secret to King's mass appeal lies in the idea that "her music is literally the soundtrack to so many people's lives. People always wanted to be singers, but there are a handful of people who can be an Aretha or a Barbra Streisand. But you believe you could be Carole King."
My first introduction to Joni Mitchell was in Love Actually- specifically, the scene in which Emma Thompson's character Karen tells her husband "Joni Mitchell is the woman who taught your cold English wife how to feel." A rendition of Mitchell's hit "Both Sides Now" is subsequently featured in the film's iconic and most heartbreaking scene.
Unsurprisingly, Mitchell's music nearly becomes its own character in the movie, a telling detail that I think highlights her ability to create music that is truly about capturing the essence of people. Mitchell hit her stride in the 70s, but her music adapts to new stories wherever it goes.
Where King ricocheted off of the tensions of the world with her comforting lyrics, Mitchell found inspiration closer to home in the communities she lived, particularly New York. Mitchell has said that she used to just walk down the streets of New York, taking it all in because "there are a thousand stories in a single block... you hear the songs immediately."
Her songs are of the singer-songwriter variety, but with a significant bohemian twist that makes her songs uniquely hers and infuses them with a literary quality- almost more akin to poetry than pop. Like King, Mitchell's work inspired and challenged many of the male singers of the decade (she dated both David Crosby and Graham Nash, of CSN, as well as James Taylor).
-------------------------------------------------------------- Of course, Carole King and Joni Mitchell were by no means alone. There were scores of other female singers who paved the way in one of many male-dominated industries: Linda Ronstadt-- the country-pop star who can basically take credit for creating the Eagles. Carly Simon-- singer of the instant classic "You're So Vain", onetime wife of James Taylor, icon of the sexual liberation movement. Stevie Nicks-- a singer and performer so talented that her solo career somehow matched her time in the mega-popular band Fleetwood Mac. (just to name a few)
These independent performers proved that women could be gifted storytellers capable of holding their own in the world. They sang wildly different songs and possessed one-of-a-kind voices, but they all were connected to each other in some way. They played at the Troubadour, they lived in the legendary Laurel Canyon, they overlapped boyfriends and husbands. But on a deeper level, they all sang with a striking authenticity that comes from listening. They listened to their own experiences, to their peers, to the energy of the world, and then they crafted stories that unified people.
In many ways, the rise of the independent female singer mirrored the feminist movement that was gaining ground throughout the country. In the seventies, women from all races, sexualities, and backgrounds came together to fight for the ERA and to break free from the restraints of the "51% minority." The seventies were the decade that feminism became mainstream, an idea cemented in 1975, when Time awarded their "Man of the Year" award to "American Women."
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I think Emma Thompson got it right in Love Actually: songs like "So Far Away" and "Both Sides Now" pull the emotion out of you. They prompt you to sing along. They elicit standing ovations. In small yet persistent ways, music makes us feel, makes us empathize, makes us question standards, inspires us towards change. And in order to make music, we need to listen.
People will tell you where they've gone
They'll tell you where to go
But until you get there yourself you never really know
