New Slaylist songs: '70s easy listening edition

Treasures to trove from Seals & Crofts, England Dan & John Ford Coley, and Gerry Rafferty

Good tidings to all. Let’s make like Gerry Rafferty and fly right back into the Slaylist (which, as always, can be found at Spotify) with some new looks at some old classics.

“We May Never Pass This Way Again,” Seals & Crofts. Your first impression might be that this is part of an amorphous blend of 1970s soft rock, but I think it breaks out of the mold to become something special. My favorite part comes very quickly in the build from the second verse to the chorus, with Jim Seals and Dash Crofts bringing a brief but memorable abandon. The song won’t have its listeners fightin’ in the streets, but 50 years after its release, it can still go a few rounds.

“Get Closer,” Seals & Crofts. Okay, I wasn’t gonna do this, but I had second thoughts about choosing “We May Never” over “Get Closer,” so what the hell, let’s do both. The main reason for my change of heart? Not Seals, not Crofts, but the superb guest work of Carolyn Willis.

Both songs topped at No. 2 on the Billboard Easy Listening charts in the U.S. Yep, the Easy Listening charts were a thing.

“I'd Really Love to See You Tonight,” England Dan & John Ford Coley. Although I praised the S&C songs for breaking the Easy Listening formula, that doesn’t mean the formula can’t win. This vintage ’70s duo plays it straight down the middle with this 1976 hit — becoming No. 1 in Easy Listening — but from the Bicentennial to the upcoming Semiquincentennial, we’re talking about an American classic.

Footnote No. 1: It took me decades before I understood that the first lyric of the chorus was “I'm not talking 'bout moving in.”

Footnote No. 2: England Dan never lived in England. He was born in McCarney, Texas, and his nickname came from how he would pretend he had an English accent, thanks to his love for the Beatles. (There’s a Breaking Away analogy here for those who are in the know.)

Footnote No. 3: England Dan’s full name was Danny Wayland Seals, and he was the younger brother of Jim Seals. So with their respective duos, the bros were ascending the higher realms of the Easy Listening charts at the same time.

“Baker Street,” Gerry Rafferty. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it at least four times: Soulful sax can be a musical nightmare, the cheese on top of the cheese. But right from the start, you know that “Baker Street” is having none of that. The sax player was Raphael Ravenscroft, a name befitting the inspiration of the song, the London street that Sherlock Holmes called home. (Take that, England Dan.)

“Baker Street,” comes with no shortage of backstory, not the least of which is a he said/he said debate between Rafferty and Ravenscroft about the sax solo, with each claiming to have written the riff. It was no small thing. The Cambridge Companion to the Saxophone describes its impact as nothing less than the “Baker Street” Phenomenon.

No one really knows why, but following the success (and consequent air-play) of this number, it seemed that every self-respecting band had to include a saxophone. Soon after that an enormous percentage of TV advertisements had a sultry tenor or wailing alto also taking prominence, and in the mid-1980s the saxophone became the most popular instrument for youngsters starting out. Raphael Ravenscroft, the player in question, can thus be said to have initiated the biggest boom in saxophone sales since the craze of the 1920s.

If that weren’t enough, the sax solo was enough to hook Lisa Simpson.

Much more could be said about the beautiful lyrics, filled with melancholy and hope. “Baker Street” reached No. 4 in Easy Listening — but rose even higher to No. 2 in the overall Billboard Hot 100. If you really want a deep dive, here’s a 30-minute retrospective with Gerry’s daughter Martha Rafferty. Gerry died in 2011.