Saturday Night Fish Fry

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On account of I miss hearing from Gurlitzer lately, here is some bait to lure herself out of her lair. I'm pretty sure she was in our party at the Roosevelt University Auditorium in Chicago in December 1971 to hear the boys "premier" (or so they said) this very song: Mother.



Listen to the intro by poor Terry Kath: he sounds like his brain has been toasted to the size and mental capability of a raisin. I think it's hilarious that he start's picking out the stock lullaby theme (go-to-sleep, go-to-sleep...) as he's talking, then dribbles off like he's got the somnambulas.

As an adult I became pretty critical of Chicago because I felt they squandered their talent. I stopped following them after their third album, from which this is, er, from. (Not counting Carnegie Hall, which was their fourth.) I feel that none of the members improved an iota, technically, after "Chicago Transit Authority." Knowing little about the band, biographically speaking, I would assume that they were a victims of their meteoric rise to fame and hip-capitalist management. I can almost hear it: You boys could be as big as The Beach Boys if you let us help you write some "relevant" lyrics and pick out some nice "threads". We can also make your hair look sexier while still being hip! Yeah---and you can have all the "pot" you want for free! So I feel the fellas became too famous, wealthy, and high for their own good, and ours too. Maybe that's unfair, but I felt that much of their second album was pretty much only going through motions dictated by some insidious devitalizing force. By the third, it all sounded canned and labeled to me. Their lyrics explored the safe perimeter of pseudo-profundity, and the ensemble horn arrangements mostly sounded like rote variations or fantasias on riffs from Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon.

No one in the band was a virtuoso... and I feel that's actually OK. After all, Chicago was just a rock band... of which some of us had unduly high expectations if we were suckered by the most-of-them-studied-music-at-college marketing. (There's not a thing wrong with a good street-quality jazz-rock band in my book, but I wanted Chicago to exceed the high points of the first album every time out.)
 
The Carnegie Hall album is full of distracted, mediocre moments. But this track is not one of them, despite Kath's soporific introductory ramble. The composition isn't much but isn't bad either---head-shop-type lyrics about man's inhumanity to Mother Nature, changing meters several times before a 5/8 section that is supposed to "resemble industry, and money-making, and pollution". But what a surprise to my cynical 21st century earbones! I'd forgotten. Everybody sounds like they really mean it on this cut, especially during the 5/8 jam! James Pankow starts it with some frantic trombone that may draw from bop chops he learned at college. And Walt Parazaider, bless his heart, really takes his chances on tenor. Maybe he's just running up and down arpeggios from his methods book, but he just gives it up and dives in. Hard to believe this is the same guy who struggled with improvising Dixie and Battle Hymn of The Republic on flute a little earlier in the program. Then Pankow comes back at the end with quite a sensitive elegy-type solo that even made me feel emotional when I reheard it for the first time after buying the Rhino reissue several months ago. The whole collection, even with its flaws, is like an under-appreciated friend.

Mother, Chicago (1971, from "At Carnegie Hall," CD reissue Rhino R2 76174), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial commentary, critical discussion, and educational purposes.