This week In ’70s Throwback’ 07/52

1 . Elvis Presley – Polk Salad Annie

Elvis Presley’s approach to “Polk Salad Annie,” originally penned and performed by Tony Joe White, is less a reimagining than a theatrical amplification of its Southern gothic essence.

Presley recorded the track during a 1970 midnight show at the International Hotel in Las Vegas, embedding it within the album “On Stage.” While Tony Joe White’s version climbed to No. 8 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1969, Presley’s interpretation bypassed chart ambitions, positioning itself instead as a staple of his live performances—a clear signal that its true home was always meant to be the stage.

What distinguishes Elvis’s rendition isn’t lyrical reinvention or sonic overhaul but his dynamic stagecraft. Incorporating karate gestures—more a curious exhibition than an obvious complement to pokeweed greens—the live performance teeters between raw energy and calculated spectacle. His Madison Square Garden concert in 1972, as chronicled in “Prince From Another Planet,” exemplifies this, where the track serves as both a nod to rural subsistence and a vehicle for Presley’s undeniable showmanship.

The interplay between composer and performer adds texture. Tony Joe White’s close relationship with Elvis’s camp, including producer Felton Jarvis, lends the rendition an implicit seal of approval. Yet, the recording itself may feel a touch static without the visual cues of Elvis’s stage movements—perhaps why albums like “Walk A Mile In My Shoes” and “The Essential 70’s Masters” function more as archives than revelations.

Ultimately, “Polk Salad Annie” thrives in the liminal space of Elvis’s 1970s concert repertoire—more kinetic energy than standalone triumph, a conjuration of the swamp through artistry uniquely his own.

Lifted from : Elvis Presley records the album ‘On Stage’ at the International Hotel in Las Vegas (1970)

2 . John Lennon – Slippin’ and Slidin’

John Lennon’s “Slippin’ and Slidin’,” nestled on his 1975 album “Rock ‘n’ Roll,” is a potent homage to the formative days of rock and roll, but its charm lies in its simplicity rather than reinvention.

The song, originally penned by Little Richard, Edwin Bocage, Albert Collins, and James Smith, carries the raw 1950s energy Lennon sought to recreate. His interpretation is faithful to its origins, though it rarely ventures beyond nostalgia. Produced by Phil Spector, the track boasts a wall of sound that underpins much of the album, but here it sometimes feels more like a historical reenactment than a fresh take.

Highlights include Lennon’s distinctive vocal delivery, which cuts through the mix with a blend of reverence and exuberance. Still, it’s difficult to overlook the production’s tendency to overshadow the track’s roots—Spector’s saturated arrangements are a double-edged sword, amplifying the song’s drive while muting its grit.

The 1975 live performance at the “Salute to Lew Grade” concert infuses the song with a bit more immediacy, offering a glimpse into its possibilities outside the studio. Yet, it’s the album’s greater context that lends “Slippin’ and Slidin’” its weight, serving as a postcard from a music legend reflecting on the genre that shaped him.

Commercially, the “Rock ‘n’ Roll” album fared well, reaching number 6 on the UK Albums Chart and number 5 in Australia, mirroring the enduring allure of both Lennon and the era he was channeling. By 2020, its inclusion in the “Gimme Some Truth. The Ultimate Mixes” compilation underscored its role in Lennon’s rock ‘n’ roll narrative. While this track doesn’t demand repeated listens, its sincerity as a tribute is undeniable and historically valuable.

Lifted from : John Lennon releases his sixth solo album : ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll’ featuring ‘Stand by Me’ (1975)

3 . Led Zeppelin – Sick Again

Led Zeppelin’s “Sick Again,” off their sprawling 1975 double album “Physical Graffiti,” captures the decadent haze of the band’s mid-’70s zenith with a tone that veers uncomfortably between reflective pity and detached voyeurism.

Written by Robert Plant, the song zeroes in on the “L.A. Queens,” underage groupies encountered during the band’s 1973 US tour. Plant’s lyrics, oscillating between poetic imagery and stark observations, expose the disillusioned trajectory of these teenage hopefuls: “Through the circus of the L.A. Queen how fast you learn the downhill slide.” It’s hard not to hear a tinge of remorse in Plant’s delivery, even as the words themselves bristle with an uneasy mix of pity and complicity.

Musically, the band exhibits its usual synergy. Jimmy Page’s electric guitars churn out snarling riffs that teeter between menace and mockery, while John Paul Jones offers a bassline sturdy enough to ground the chaos. John Bonham’s drumming remains relentless, emphasizing the undercurrent of unease that runs through the track. Collectively, the instrumentation aligns with the album’s hard-edged yet sprawling aesthetic, although “Sick Again” lacks the polish or dynamism of its more celebrated counterparts.

In live settings, the band prioritized the track, frequently slotting it as the second number on their 1975 and 1977 tours. The inclusion of a live rendition in the 2003 “Led Zeppelin DVD” reinforces its standing as a performance staple, though the studio version doesn’t crackle with the same immediacy.

While “Sick Again” never charted, its place on an album that topped charts and moved 8 million copies in the US secures its historical context. Yet, its reflection of the exploitative dynamics within the rock industry of the time is as unsettling as its addictive, grimy swagger. Perhaps that unease is the point, though whether it’s a critique or an admission remains ambiguous.

Lifted from : Led Zeppelin are in New-York (1975)

4 . Genesis – Watcher of the Skies

“Watcher of the Skies,” the opening salvo from Genesis’s 1972 release “Foxtrot,” stakes its claim on atmosphere before melody, building an eerie sonic cathedral through Tony Banks’s hauntingly extended keyboard prelude.

This calculated creep is as emblematic of early progressive rock as the song’s structure is unabashedly complex, signaling the band’s intent to challenge rather than comfort. Mike Rutherford’s compositional hand pairs with Banks here, crafting a multi-part opus that seems to uncoil deliberately yet unpredictably.

Lyrically, Banks’s vision pulls science fiction into the moralizing tradition, spinning a tale of an otherworldly entity surveying Earth’s human-wrought desolation. This choice imbues the track’s grandeur with a thread of bleak social commentary, though it risks tipping from evocative into heavy-handed polemic.

In its live incarnations, the track’s dramatic intro routinely set the stage as Genesis’s opener—including during a Montréal performance in April 1974—evidently favored for its immediacy and theatrical flair. Yet that same flair borders on indulgence; the elongated intro could alienate audiences unwilling to surrender so fully to the band’s cerebral machinations.

While “Watcher of the Skies” did not chart independently, its significance radiates through “Foxtrot’s” success, which climbed to number 12 on the UK charts. The song’s enduring complexity earned it an odd kind of prestige, exemplified by Phish’s risky yet revealing homage during the 2010 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony for Genesis.

As a piece of Genesis’s early repertoire, “Watcher of the Skies” feels both audacious and alienating. Its ambition is unmistakable, but the mannered grandiosity may leave some listeners questioning whether the journey justifies the effort.

Lifted from : Happy Birthday Peter Gabriel. ‘Big Timer’

5 . Rod Stewart – This Old Heart of Mine

Rod Stewart’s 1989 version of “This Old Heart of Mine,” featuring Ron Isley, pairs nostalgia with polish, cleverly remodeling a Motown classic for a late-‘80s audience.

Originally penned by the prolific Holland-Dozier-Holland trio, this track was first recorded by the Isley Brothers in 1966, radiating heartbreak and urgency set against a quintessentially upbeat Motown framework.

While Stewart’s first attempt in 1975 largely faded into obscurity, his second take brought the song renewed visibility, bolstered by Isley’s presence—a wise move, considering his initial command of the vocal on the Isley Brothers’ version.

Included on Stewart’s “Vagabond Heart” album, this rendition leans into its collaborative identity, splitting lines between Stewart’s gruff rasp and Isley’s smooth tenor. The result is a vocal tug-of-war that underlines the emotional fracture at the song’s core.

Musically, Stewart’s rendition transposes the tune into A major and maintains its light “dance floor heartbreak” energy, though without the raw immediacy of the Isley Brothers’ original. Where Motown thrived on tight, sinewy grooves, the 1989 update glosses things up with grander production, reflecting the era’s penchant for slickness.

Its success was undeniable, landing at #10 on the Billboard Hot 100 and taking the top spot on the Adult Contemporary chart. The accompanying video, drenched in 1960s pastiche, did its fair share to airbrush this heartache into MTV rotation.

At its best, this version shines as a nod to the past filtered through the lens of its time; at its worst, it feels like a photocopy—pinning the passion but not the pulse of the original. Still, kudos to Stewart for unearthing a Motown jewel and giving it a second life, even if it sparkles less brightly. B+

Lifted from : Rod Stewart rocks Melbourne (1977)

6 . Deep Purple – Burn

“Burn,” the fiery opening track from Deep Purple’s 1974 album of the same name, inaugurates the Mark III lineup with conviction and flair.

David Coverdale, the freshly minted vocalist, brings a robust lyrical narrative steeped in medieval imagery and supernatural undertones, spinning the tale of an accusatory mob and a sorceress condemned to flames. It’s witchcraft by way of hard rock—a thematic pivot that fits comfortably within the band’s evolving style.

Ritchie Blackmore’s guitar work delivers the kind of blistering finesse expected of him, stitched together by a musical backbone allegedly inspired by the Gershwin standard “Fascinating Rhythm.” Yet the interplay between individual contributions here feels more like a calculated handshake than a revolutionary blend, with Blackmore dominating the instrumentation while Coverdale’s lyrics circle the flames.

Recorded in Montreux, Switzerland, during November 1973, and debuting to respectable album chart success, “Burn” showcases Deep Purple’s transition rather than pure reinvention. Its chart performance—the single peaking at a modest No. 45 in the UK four years after its release—suggests it burned bright but not broadly. Nevertheless, the album’s top-three placement on the UK Albums Chart reveals its enduring appeal in the full LP format.

As a live staple for two years, “Burn” cemented itself not so much as a rallying cry but as reliable kindling for Deep Purple’s new sound. Pragmatically hard-rocking and stylishly theatrical, its legacy ultimately rests on how it framed the band’s ambitious lineup shifts rather than any groundbreaking innovation.

Lifted from : Deep Purple release their eighth album : ‘Burn’ featuring David Coverdale on vocals (1974)

7 . Black Sabbath – N.I.B.

“N.I.B.” stands as a pivotal moment on Black Sabbath’s self-titled debut album, released on February 13, 1970, an effort famously hammered out in a single twelve-hour session.

Emerging fourth on the tracklist, the song’s roots lie in long-form stage jams during grueling European tours where setlists often stretched to fill time. The recorded version condenses that raw improvisational energy, beginning with Geezer Butler’s bass solo, altered in the studio with a wah-wah pedal under producer Rodger Bain’s guidance, morphing it into a centerpiece not often afforded to the instrument in heavy metal of the era.

The title, a nod to drummer Bill Ward’s beard resembling a pen nib, reflects Black Sabbath’s ability to pair introspective, ominous themes with unexpected levity. The song’s lyrics, penned by Butler, upend conventional depictions of Lucifer, presenting a narrative of the devil softened by love—an inversion of doom-laden archetypes that suggests a conceptual ambition amid the power chords.

While “N.I.B.” wasn’t hoisted onto charts as a single, it cemented its presence within the album that carved out Black Sabbath’s early legacy. The band performed the track live frequently, with a notable rendition at the Olympia in Paris on December 20, 1970, demonstrating its evolution from studio precision to visceral onstage impact.

Reinforcing its weight, “N.I.B.” has been revisited by others, including a charting cover by Primus featuring Ozzy Osbourne for “Nativity in Black II” in 2000, proving the song’s adaptability across decades. Positioned between its lyrical audacity and genre-defining sludge, “N.I.B.” persists as a strange but essential cornerstone, seldom yielding to over-refinement, yet spanning eras with its uncompromising pulse.

Lifted from : Vertigo publish ‘Black Sabbath’ their eponymous debut album featuring ‘N.I.B.’ (1970)

8 . Peter Frampton – All I Want To Be

“All I Want to Be (Is by Your Side)” quietly anchors Side Two of Peter Frampton’s debut album, “Wind of Change,” released in 1972. At 6:36 minutes, the track unfolds like an unhurried conversation—introspective yet tinged with a sense of longing that seems tailor-made for Frampton’s mellifluous voice.

The production, shared by Frampton and Chris Kimsey, whispers rather than declares its intent. Mick Jones’s guitar, Rick Wills’s bass, and Mike Kellie’s drums entwine seamlessly, offering a restrained, almost meditative backdrop. Andrew Bown’s contributions on percussion and Mellotron push the song into lightly orchestral terrain, adding subtle layers that suggest depth without overwhelming. Yet for all these touches, the arrangement verges on too polite, lacking the urgency one might crave in such an emotive piece.

While it flew under the radar as a single, the album “Wind of Change” only reached a modest number 177 on the Pop Albums chart. This could hint at the song’s unwillingness—or inability—to demand immediate attention. Even its live counterpart on “Frampton Comes Alive!”—a commercial juggernaut certified 8-times platinum by 2011—finds itself as a contemplative breather amid more propulsive tracks. Here, the song functions less as a centerpiece and more as a reminder of Frampton’s reflective side.

The live version gained a second wind in cultural esteem, owing partly to “Frampton Comes Alive!” being inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2020. But the song itself never quite leaves its shadow. Its appeal is its understatement, but that same quality occasionally edges toward complacency. Frampton crafts mood well—but does mood alone suffice when so much else feels transient?

Lifted from : Peter Frampton celebrates Valentine Day in New-Jersey (1976)

9 . Heart – Magic Man

“Magic Man,” Heart’s breakout single from their debut album “Dreamboat Annie,” carries the volatile allure of a tale spun from personal history.

Anchored by Ann and Nancy Wilson’s songwriting, the lyrics vividly unfold the perspective of a young woman caught in the magnetic pull of an older, more worldly “Magic Man,” a figure who becomes both seducer and symbol of defiance against a disapproving maternal shadow.

The autobiographical layer—rooted in Ann Wilson’s relationship with then-boyfriend and band manager Michael Fisher—gives the narrative an edge of raw intimacy, striking an equilibrium between confession and theatrical drama.

Musically, it balances polished rock sensibilities with a daring instrumental flair. Roger Fisher’s inventive EADGDG guitar tuning opens a distinctive sonic space, while Howard Leese’s Minimoog swirls conjure a vivid atmosphere. On the album version, a lengthy two-minute-plus break dominated by guitar solos offers both texture and indulgence—elements clipped in the radio-friendly single edit, boiling it down to just over three minutes without completely diluting its essence.

Released in Canada in 1975, the song initially found modest footing, peaking at number 62 on the RPM chart. However, its resurgence in 1976, both in Canada and the U.S., gave Heart their first top 10 hit stateside, landing at No. 9 on the Billboard Hot 100. Internationally, it established modest success, reaching the Top 10 in countries like Australia and the Netherlands, further expanding the band’s reach.

Mike Flicker’s understated production stitches the track together neatly, allowing Ann Wilson’s commanding vocals to shine while the band propels the track with precision. Yet, for all its craftsmanship, it’s the duality of the song—raw yearning versus polished execution—that remains its most compelling feature. This is no mere flirtation with the occult magic the title implies but a deft manipulation of rock’s storytelling power.

Lifted from : Heart release their debut album : ‘Dreamboat Annie’ featuring ‘Magic Man’ and ‘Crazy on You’ (1976)

10 . The Pretenders – Stop Your Sobbing

As a reimagined twist on Ray Davies’ work from The Kinks’ 1964 debut, “Stop Your Sobbing” becomes something altogether sharper and glossier in The Pretenders’ hands.

Produced by Nick Lowe, the 1979 single trades the wistful simplicity of the original for a clean, carefully packaged modern-retro shine.

It’s a move that didn’t just signal the start of the band’s career—it defined the sound of their self-titled debut album, “The Pretenders,” released in January 1980.

Lowe’s production may feel a bit safe—polished but somewhat reluctant to dig deeper into the band’s rebellious core, which becomes better defined in later tracks like “Precious.”

That said, it’s a calculated safety that paid off modestly on the charts, hitting #65 in the US and climbing to #34 in the UK.

This isn’t the anthem of snarling punk energy; rather, it nods to 60s girl groups with its melodicism while neatly sidestepping camp.

Chrissie Hynde’s voice is the focal point here, blending an understated vulnerability with just enough bite, making the song’s plea—stop your sobbing—feel like both an invitation and a command.

Interestingly, the song’s choice wasn’t random; Hynde herself was a fan of The Kinks, and her enthusiasm clearly shines through the careful execution.

This connection even led to a personal and professional entanglement with Ray Davies, resulting in a relationship that carried its own weight of mythology.

Still, there’s irony in Lowe’s initial skepticism toward the band’s potential despite agreeing to produce their debut single—an impatience that history would plainly disprove.

As part of the album that would later hit #1 on the UK Albums Chart and linger there for four weeks, “Stop Your Sobbing” may not cut to the bone, but it succeeds as a sleek, charming introduction to what The Pretenders could—and would—become.

Lifted from : On TV today, The Pretenders at ‘TOTP’ (1979)

11 . Electric Light Orchestra – Evil Woman

Recorded in 1975 at Musicland Studios in Munich, “Evil Woman” is Jeff Lynne’s quick study in turning necessity into invention, a song reportedly written to fill out ELO’s “Face the Music” album.

For something created on the fly, its polish betrays none of its hurried origins. The piano-driven opening riff feels almost like a conversation starter, a confident strut that soon dips into the lush orchestral arrangements ELO is known for. The strings, layered later in an English studio, lend the track a smooth, cosmopolitan texture, a far cry from the barnstorming brashness of their earlier work.

Lyrically, Lynne delivers a narrative of manipulation and fallout. Lines like “There’s a hole in my head where the rain comes in” nod wryly to the Beatles’ “Fixing a Hole,” but lack its introspective nuance. Instead, the song leans into its slick charm—a knowing tale of revenge that’s more nightclub lothario than morning-after regret.

Chart performance suggests that charm worked. It climbed to #10 in the UK and #9 stateside. This wasn’t a slow burner; it shot out of the gate and settled comfortably into Top-40 playlists, its blend of rock instrumentation and orchestral flourishes perfectly capturing the shifting airwaves of the mid-’70s.

Critically, “Evil Woman” is as much about context as it is content. It reflects not just turbulent relationships but the evolving soundscape of the era. If Lynne threw it together in a day, he also captured a moment—of growing string sections, falsetto backing vocals, and disco-adjacent grooves. A striking achievement, though perhaps one that glides by on style more than substance.

Lifted from : On TV today, ELO at ‘TOTP’ (1976)

12 . Kate Bush – Moving

“Moving,” the opening track of Kate Bush’s 1978 debut album “The Kick Inside,” is a fitting curtain-raiser for an artist whose work continually emphasizes physicality and transformation.

Beginning with a haunting whale song sampled from Dr. Roger S. Payne’s “Songs of the Humpback Whale,” the track immediately establishes itself as exploratory but grounded in intimate detail. The dedication to Lindsay Kemp, Bush’s mime teacher, underscores this—his influence on her understanding of movement becomes the song’s thematic backbone. Unlike vague tributes, Bush’s lyrics weave aqueous metaphors, comparing her muse to water, capturing both grace and fluidity while avoiding sentimentality.

Musically, “Moving” is sparse but well-orchestrated, featuring Kate Bush on piano and vocals, anchored by Stuart Elliott’s understated drumming, David Paton’s bass, Ian Bairnson’s guitar, and Duncan Mackay’s electric piano. Andrew Powell’s production is clean, prioritizing Bush’s piercing yet tender vocal performance, though the arrangement occasionally feels restrained compared to the audacity of her later efforts.

Released as a Japan-only single paired with “Wuthering Heights” and failing to chart, “Moving” nonetheless made a significant impression in live contexts. From her performance on “Saturday Night at the Mill” to captivating an audience of 35 million at Tokyo’s Nippon Budokan for the Tokyo Music Festival—where she secured the silver prize—the song’s live reputation reflects its evocative nature.

While never a commercial juggernaut, “Moving” resonates as an artistic statement, framing Bush’s fascination with movement as an innovative, almost radical artistic lens. It might not reach the visceral highs of later works, but its quiet confidence sets a tone for the album’s blend of poetry and pop structure. Bush’s ability to find the extraordinary in the elemental would only grow from here, but “Moving” is a luminous and fitting start. B+

Lifted from : EMI publish Kate Bush’s debut album : ‘The Kick Inside’ featuring ‘Wuthering Heights’ (1978)