Chicago Transit Authority

Place that Band: Battle of the Geo Groups

Rock and roll band names are always a fun subject and historically have fallen into specific categories. Early on, bug names were popular: Buddy Holly and the Crickets inspired the Silver Beetles (later the Beatles), and we went from Iron Butterfly to the Spiders from Mars; it all culminated in the legendary Mosquitoes, secretly rehearsing on Gilligan’s Island to escape their adoring fans.

In the psychedelic era, crazy food-related names abounded (Strawberry Alarm Clock, Chocolate Watch Band, Ultimate Spinach, Peanut Butter Conspiracy) but as we got into the 70s, the somewhat grandiose idea of naming your group after a (usually) large city, or even a country or continent, took hold. Sometimes (but certainly not always) it reflected where the group was from. This trend has continued somewhat crazily into the present, as we will find out at the bottom of the post.

But here we are mostly sticking with better-known groups from the 70s to the millennium. There is a subjective group rating and a ROBTL rating (Relation of Band to Location). Only straight-up geographic group names are considered (sorry, New York Dolls) and the locations are limited to our home planet. But in case you’re wondering, there IS a group called Uranus.

CHICAGO

This is one of the most famous, even though they were originally called Chicago Transit Authority, until transportation officials from the Windy City objected.  Many of the members from the original septet met while in college in Chicago. They were originally an adventurous, even political, jazz-rock ensemble over the course of their first three albums (all two-record sets). They gradually lost their way in the woods of MOR pop pablum after the tragic death of guitarist/guiding force Terry Kath.

Group Rating: B+ for the first five albums, after that you’re on your own. ROBTL Rating: Good, considering their roots

This track from their debut features demonstrators’ chant from the Chicago Dem Convention in 1968.

AMERICA

An interesting one, as the three members were U.S. Air Force brats living in England at the time of their formation. But their sound, influenced by the CSN&Y type sound of the day, was very un-British. They went on to great success, of course, with songs like “Ventura Highway” (inspired by a stretch of road in California) and that one about a lonesome Western desert where for some reason you can’t remember your name.

Group rating: B ROBTL: Good I guess, since it was a bit of a mission statement.

BOSTON

This Tom Scholz-invented band is a tough one, since they were from the area but were not exactly road-tested locals, like Aerosmith or J. Geils Band. Mostly a studio creation, thanks to Scholz’s whiz-kid tech knowhow, that didn’t stop them from claiming they were “just another band out of Boston” on their debut album which sold 17 million copies. Then they started touring.

Group rating: B- ROBTL: Not great, even that line about playing in Hyannis was not about them but instead was inspired by the drummer’s previous experience of playing in bar bands down on Cape Cod.

BERLIN

Crossing over the Atlantic, kind of. Berlin, fronted by icy-sultry singer Terri Nunn, was from Los Angeles. Nunn, who posed for Playboy while underage, was (and would later be) an actress, and she once auditioned for the part of Princess Leia. She had the perfect look and voice for the band’s stylish 80s synth-pop sound, which would be fair to say, drew some influence from Krautrock pioneers like Kraftwerk.

Group rating: B ROBTL: Pretty good, considering.

LINDISFARNE

This accomplished British folk-rock outfit, once led by guitarist singer Alan Hull, were from Newcastle and named themselves after the nearby monastery castle that I had the pleasure of visiting last year (see my photo!).

Lindisfarne often drew from locales known to them and it would be easy to imagine the ghostly “Lady Eleanor” from their most famous song roaming the drafty corridors of that edifice.

Group rating: A- ROBTL: First in class.

ASIA

Another very famous name and a progressive-rock supergroup made up of former (and in some cases future) members of Yes, King Crimson and ELP. I’m a huge prog fan but at the time of their big debut LP (1982) I was much more in thrall to the likes of the Replacements and the Psychedelic Furs than this machine-tooled AOR approach. Even guitarist Steve Howe, who would do much much better work in Yes) admitted that the production of said album was “Journeyesque,” not a good thing. But they fared well on middle-of-the-road rock stations and sold lots of plastic.

Group rating: C ROBTL: Nil, unless you count Roger Dean’s somewhat Oriental cover art. (see top image)

EUROPE

Staying on the continental theme, we doubt anyone ever looked to these lugs for a representation of European culture. The glam-metal Swedes did have their moment in the sun (not that I noticed) and got a recent ironic boost due to their famous Geico commercial featuring their biggest hit.

Group rating: C- ROBTL: Nothing doing.

ENGLAND

This prog-rock band was destined to be under-appreciated, seeing that their excellent debut album, “Garden Shed,” came out in 1977, the same year that the Sex Pistols and the Clash were shaking up things in their native land. England were led by keyboardist-singer Robert Webb and they hailed from Kent County, an area known as the Garden of England. Later reevaluations and rereleases of their work led to reunions (and some new work) first in 2006, including a nice 2-disc CD edition of “Garden Shed.”

Group rating: B+ ROBTL: Very high

JAPAN

This London-based group started out in 1974 as more of a glam act and evolved a synth-heavy, futuristic approach in the New Wave era. Not my cup of tea and initially their records flopped in the UK, but they found fame in the Land of the Rising Sun. Not sure how much that had to do with their name. They did release a single called “Life in Toyko” but it oddly featured the catch phrase “life can be cruel.”

Group rating: C+ ROBTL: Well, they sold out Budokan three nights running.

NEW ENGLAND

Getting back to my neck of the woods, this Boston-based group was managed by Queen impresario Don Aucion. They got a peek at the Top 40 with “Don’t Ever Wanna Lose Ya” (#40 in 1979) but their career soon stalled. Although stubbornly a product of their Asia-Journey age, New England did poke at the edges of several genres, including Art Rock. Seeking a sales lift, they came up with the multi-part “Explorer Suite.” Brimming with dramatic vocals and flashy keyboards, they were hoping the “Bohemian Rhapsody” lightning would strike twice, but to no avail.

Group Rating: B- ROBTL: Nothing you would notice.

NANTUCKET

Another New England locale, but these guys were from North Carolina and got their start as an oceanside bar band. They named themselves after the song “Nantucket Sleighride” by Mountain. There is some of that influence here, but also of arena-rock plodders like Foghat. Nothing special but I like their energy and the cheeky covert art of their first album is a 70s guilty pleasure.

Group Rating: B ROBTL: Very little.

KANSAS

I really don’t want to talk about these guys. You know them, you love them. Well, you know them anyway. Me, I always get them mixed up with Styx, another location-named band, though in this case a presumably fictional one. Anyway, I don’t dislike them, but I don’t regard them either. They did find a curious common denominator in pop history. “Carry On My Wayward Son,” is annually one of the most played song in classic-rock radio formats.

Group Rating: B- ROBTL: Well, they are from Topeka.

MANASSAS

I don’t much want to talk about Steve Stills either. He’s one of rock’s least likable characters. If you care for a taste, consult the interview of jazz drummer (and one-time Joni Mitchell squeeze) in the book “Girls Like Us” or check out Steve’s belligerent reaction to a little healthy criticism in the festival film “Celebration at Big Sur.” Having said that, Manassas (named after the Virginia town where the first great land battle of the civil war took place) were a good band for him, esp. in the case of second-billed Chris Hillman, the reliable wing man late of the Byrds and Flying Burrito Bros. Their first album was one of Stills’ stronger efforts (and a double LP no less) and I’ll be happy to post my favorite track.

Group rating: B ROBTL: Well, it is kinda country rock.

CHILIWACK

Chiliwack’s 1971 single “Lonesome Mary” was one of my favorite obscure near-hits of my early radio-listening days I remember the DJ telling listeners that the group was from Canada, and so far north there that there “drummer is a grizzly bear.” They were actually from Vancouver and named themselves after a cool-sounding town nearby. “Lonesome Mary” was one of those killer 3-minutes slabs of power rock, with Bill Henderson’s urgent vocals and blazing guitar.

Later, Chiliwack dabbled in progressive rock, which was still evident in their 1979 album “Breakdown in Paradise” which I picked up on cassette in a Quebec City shop last year. In the early Eighties, they got their commercial due with a few poppier U.S. Top 40 hits, most notably with “My Girl (Gone Gone Gone)”, and are still a going concern these days.

Grade: A (just because) ROBTL: Grizzly bear or no grizzly bear, they representing!

The geo band phenomenon continues to this day, although reading up on the subject can cause confusion. There’s an Indiana band called Brazil but formerly called themselves London. The group Spain are from California, and Jamacia are from France. That’s not even mentioning the ones named after planets and constellations, though I do want to check out Uranus, lol.

Make Mine a Double #23: “Chicago Transit Authority” (1969)

Chicago’s career trajectory as a band is the equivalent of that guy you knew in college who was a bit of a hotshot and always there making his presence known at the biggest parties and campus demonstrations. When you catch up with him decades later you find he has moved to the most strait-laced town in your state, where he has ended up on the board of selectmen, voting down a new skateboard park or marijuana dispensary. Oh, how I kid the guys in Chicago. When this rock-group-with-horns busted out big-time from the Windy City, they were a septet known for their musical experimentation and leftie politics. But less than a decade later, on the cusp of the Reagan era, they were safe-as-milk mainstays of the Soft Rock category.

Yet the band’s keen pop sensibilities were already much in evidence on their dauntless debut, a double album released in April of 1969. Here, three Top 40 Billboard singles were in the mix along with the esoteric touches and long jams common to that period.

Chicago Transit Authority (which was then the band’s name until the actual CTA threatened legal action) opens with a lively mission statement called “Introduction” which is written and sung by guitarist Terry Kath. “Sit back and let us groove/And let us work on you, yeah,” cajoles the husky-voiced Kath and indeed the song’s arrangement follows what would become a tried-and-true formula they would develop with their producer James William Guercio. After a couple verses, the song takes off into an extended, multivariate instrumental section led off with by the horn section. This trio (Walter Parazaifer on sax, Lee Loughnane on trumpet and James Pankow on trombone) gave the group a jazzy cosmopolitan sheen that proved to have strong appeal. They yield to a solo by Kath, often the band’s ace-in-the hole, before coming back strong for a final verse where Terry notes on how they “turned around the mood/We hope it struck you different/And hope you feel moved.”

Well, something worked as the album’s next three songs were all hit singles and were all written and sung by keyboardist Robert Lamm.  The original side one is filled out by “Does Anybody Know What Time It Is?” and “Beginnings” both featuring strong melodies and vibrant playing. Listeners on the AM side may have been hearing these longish numbers in edited form as the piano prelude in the former song and the two-minute percussion outro in the latter were excised for the Casey Kasem crowd.

This edited single version of reached #7 in the U.S.

The hits keep on coming at the start of side two with “Questions 67 and 68,” with lead singing shared with bassist Peter Cetera. The song is also notable for the supple, momentum-driving drum fills of Danny Seraphine, who has never really gotten his full due as one of classic-rock’s great stickmen. From here on out, though, your results may vary. There is one more chart entry, a vigorous cover of the Spencer Davis Group’s “I’m a Man,” curiously released two years later as a double-sided single with “Questions 67 and 68.” Future adult-contemporary crooner Cetera helps out here with a muscular bass line and swapping out macho lead vocals with Lamm and Kath. But things also get pretty self-indulgent over the final two sides, starting with the seven-minute “Free Form Guitar.”

Faster than a speeding El train, Terry Kath shreds away in concert.

Terry Kath, who tragically died of an accidental gunshot to the head in 1978, was a major talent (and reputedly one of Jimi Hendrix’ favorite guitarists) but I’m not sure what justified this fingernails-on-blackboard exercise in musique concrete. But considering that Guercio devotes a whole paragraph to it in his immodest liner notes, I’m willing to shift the blame. It’s esp. confounding since “FFG” is bookended by two songs that showcase Kath’s torrid soloing within amenable blues-rock contexts: “Poem 58” and “South California Purples.”

After touching on the events of the previous year’s turbulent Democratic Convention in their hometown with “Someday” (with the inclusion of “The whole world is watching!” chant), the album ends with a brash free-form instrumental (credited to Pankow) called “Liberation” that clocks in at a healthy 15:41. While nowadays this jam may only appeal to Terry Kath completists and the odd speed freak, it does show a band willing to think big and take chances.

This spirit carried on to the next two albums (also double disc affairs) where adventurous compositions sat cheek by jowl with accessible rockin’ hits like “Make Me Smile” and “25 or 6 to 4.” Not content with three doubles, they upped the ante with the four-LP At Carnegie Hall, a lavishly-packaged and rather self-congratulatory box that only featured one new song. Their first single disc was 1972’s Chicago V (fans would become used to the Roman numerals and the band’s persistent curlicue logo) and what, for me, was an early red-flag on the song “Dialogue.” Although written by Robert Lamm, the song features a back-and-forth between a concerned college student (Kath) and a hedonistic friend (Peter Cetera, tellingly) that comes down on the side of complacency (“If you had my outlook, your feelings would be numb,” is Peter’s crowning comment). OK, maybe I’m reading too much into it, and Chicago did have a fistful of attractive hits on thru the mid-70s, like “Saturday in the Park” and “Feeling Stronger Every Day.”

But for many folks, especially rock geeks, the wheels came of the bus following the death of Terry Kath in early 1978. Although several original members remained, the band dabbled in disco but mostly became known for Peter Cetera’s treacly romantic numbers, which were indistinguishable from many other power ballads of the time from the likes of REO Speedwagon and Foreigner. Granted, this trend started before Kath’s passing (“If You Leave Me Now”) but steadily tracked downward with cliched love-song rhymes and sterile 80s production values featuring lots of electric piano. If you need examples, check out “Loser with a Broken Heart”, “Stay the Night” (don’t miss the absurd video!), and culminating in 1984’s mind-numbing “Hard Habit to Break” (from Chicago 17 if you’re keeping track). Cetera, probably miffed at having to share the profits at this point, left for a solo career shortly after.

Am I being too hard here? Chicago was not the only band from that era whose politics now seem like a fashion and whose target audience shifted from hard rock buffs to lovesick teenage girls and divorced single moms for whom songs like “Hard to Say I’m Sorry” was the purest poetry. You’re supposed to get more comfortable as you get older and for Chicago that meant hitting the summer-shed tour circuit with other mellowed-out acts like the Doobie Brothers, who started life as a de facto Hell’s Angels house band. So, to tweak the analogy I started with, Chicago Transit Authority is like that old hell-raising high-school buddy that you see again for the first time at your classes’ fortieth reunion. When you ask him what has been up to since then, he replies “nothing much.”

—Rick Ouellette