Every Kinda People
Robert Palmer died today at the age of 54. He’s best known for his 1986 number-one single "Addicted to Love" and its infamous video, but before that transformation to a rock singer (who produced a fairly forgettable body of work in that guise), he had been one of the best blue-eyed soul singers in the business. Twenty-four years ago this month, he played the Orpheum Theater here in Madison, and even though I have seen lots of shows since, Palmer’s remains the best concert I’ve ever seen. Essential album: Double Fun (1978); essential tracks: "Sneaking Sally Through the Alley" (1974), "Man Smart, Woman Smarter" (1976), "Every Kinda People" (1978).

I was listening to a lot of music from 1970 while I was on the road this week, and I couldn't help noticing the number of overtly political songs that were major hits that year.

• Creedence Clearwater Revival had two of them—the mournful "Who'll Stop the Rain," in which people wait in vain for their leaders to solve the nation's problems, and the scornful "Fortunate Son," which sounds like it could have been written last week.

• Edwin Starr's scarifying "War," which was the number one song in America 33 years ago today, was even blunter, ending with another lyric that is not so much history as it is news: "They say we must fight to keep our freedom/But Lord knows there's got to be a better way."

• The most political of all songs to make the Top 40 in 1970 is quite possibly the angriest record ever to hit the charts. Not angry because my woman treated me wrong, or because my parents didn't love me—not angry in narcissistic ways—but genuinely, righteously angry at the shocking realization that the country in which we live is not the one we thought it was: "Ohio." No Top 40 hit has ever been filled with so much pain, dread, and horror. Even though it was released under the name Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, it's Neil Young's record all the way—the chunky, searing guitar, the ragged croaking vocal, and the chilling refrain, "Four dead in Ohio." You can read the lyrics, but they're just words on a page until you hear them. Then imagine hearing the record on the radio during the turbulent summer of 1970—amazingly, it hit the charts only seven weeks after the Kent State shootings it memorializes.