TAKE ME BACK TO CHICAGO

It is not easy being a fan of the band Chicago. It’s doubly tough if you’re a music-criticism camp follower, since you’re forced to read about how one of your favorite bands is generally regarded as one of the least-deserving popular acts of the rock and roll era.

“Lounge act.” “Schlockmeisters.” “Neither swinging nor rocking.” “The album covers are more interesting than the albums.” Chicago’s been blamed for everything from the rise of “lite rock” radio to the 1987 stock market crash, it seems. I, for one, am tired of it. Not only is Chicago not the musical sinkhole they’re claimed to be, they’re a deeply influential band long overdue for critical reappraisal.

First, the numbers: Chicago charted 35 singles between 1970 and 1991. They’ve had three #1 pop singles and seven #1 adult-contemporary hits. That alone is a significant body of work. Chicago has also charted albums in five different decades, something no other artist (not even Elvis or the Beatles) has done.

Of course, this won’t be enough to shut up the critics. They’ve been taking aim at Chicago for a long time. And I’ve been paying attention. So hang on, because I’m going to attack the canonical list of anti-Chicagoism, and when I’m done, I think I’ll have made my case for why Chicago matters for non-nostalgic reasons.

We address the most common criticisms individually:

1. Chicago was just a ballad band.

Well, this is the easiest to take care of. Just listen to their first three albums. And no, I don’t mean Chicago XVI, Chicago 17, and Chicago 18. Go back to the Chicago Transit Authority album and work forward. Hardly the work of a “ballad band.” Can you imagine Breathe or Savage Garden recording anything like “Poem 58″ or “Liberation”?

Now remember that, so far as anyone can tell, Jimi Hendrix only had kind words for one guitarist of his times: Chicago’s Terry Kath. In fact, Hendrix thought Kath was better than he was. Again, does that sound like a “ballad band” to you?

Finally, Robert Lamm’s “A Song For Richard And His Friends” was written to call for Nixon’s resignation–in 1971, before Watergate even happened. Do ballad bands espouse that sort of political notion?

2. Chicago’s early album tracks were pretentious and self-indulgent.

Compared to what–everybody else’s album tracks at the time? Did anybody need 17 minutes of Rare Earth riffing on “Get Ready”? Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s “Pictures at an Exhibition”? John Lennon’s experimental work with Yoko? The early 70s were a time of musical self-indulgence and decadence; when compared to what most other similar artists were doing at the time, Chicago’s stuff is no worse and in most cases considerably more restrained than most. And even so, there’s no crime in writing and recording something like “Ballet for a Girl in Buckhannon.” All rock doesn’t have to fit into three-minute singles–and all popular music doesn’t have to “rock,” anyways.

3. Chicago may have been creative at first, but they sold out with “If You Leave Me Now.”

There’s no question “If You Leave Me Now” forever changed Chicago’s musical destiny by giving them a formula which radio loved. And it did, in fact, make the band a ton of money by becoming their first #1 pop hit. But it was their fourth adult contemporary #1, and they’d already charted six top-ten singles on the pop charts before. So if “IYLMN” was a sellout, it was a late payment.

What made “IYLMN” so different for Chicago was that it was their first song which (a) didn’t really include the horn section, and (b) showed no discernible jazz influence, unless you count Terry Kath’s Wes Montgomery-like guitar lines. They’d already hit with ballads, including ballads sung by Peter Cetera–but they were all unmistakeably Chicago songs. “IYLMN” didn’t sound too much like the band everybody already knew.

But that’s not to say that it was a bad song. Musically, it’s still fairly interesting underneath the violins and French horns.

The song was certainly a product of its times, but that’s not the same thing as being a “sellout.” Unless, that is, you’re prepared to call KISS’ “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” and the Stones’ “Miss You” sellouts to the disco era. “IYLMN” hit #1 on October 23, 1976, a time when the music industry was in a mellow phase. The three biggest hits of ‘76 were Rod Stewart’s “Tonight’s The Night,” Wings’ Chicago-influenced “Silly Love Songs,” and the Elton John/Kiki Dee duet “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.” I still don’t think it was a sellout, but if you must make that move, consider what everybody else was doing at the same time.

4. The Carnegie Hall album stunk.

Even the band thought so. You can read what they have to say about it here.

5. The band’s jazz influence is overstated; they were just a pop band with a horn section.

This one is a favorite of fundamentalist music critics who think all jazz began and ended with John Coltrane and his spiritual/mathematical explorations. You’ve got to consider Chicago in its formative context, the late 60s. Who was the hottest thing in ensemble jazz at that time? Don Ellis. Ellis’ music was known for breakneck ensemble lines, odd times signatures, clanging dissonant chords, and the influence of classical forms and structures. As such, he was a major (but often unrecognized) influence on Chicago’s aesthetic. (And don’t try to tell me a bunch of guys who were hanging around the De Paul music department in the mid-60s wouldn’t have known about him!) Songs like “Canon” or “The Approaching Storm” or even “Fancy Colours” wouldn’t have been out of place on a Don Ellis album.

If you really want a good example of how Chicago’s jazz roots go deep, just do an A/B listen of Chicago II and Chicago III with, say, Maynard Ferguson’s roughly-contemporary MF Horn I and II. Then tell me which group sounds “jazzier.”

Another source of this criticism is that Chicago was strongly influenced by Latin jazz, which some critics don’t regard as “authentic.” Pity them, for they are fools.

6. Once Peter Cetera’s ballads starting hitting, they went back to the well once too often.

This is probably true in the broadest sense. By the time “Hard To Say I’m Sorry” hit in ‘82, the band wasn’t writing all its own material anymore, and no other Chicago member sang lead on a hit single until Cetera departed. But who created that monster? The band? No, they still recorded uptempo numbers with Robert Lamm and Bill Champlin singing. Their producers? Maybe, but they were there for a reason.

The truth is, they kept pumping out Cetera-sung ballads because that’s what the fans wanted. There’s no shame in keeping the customer satisfied, since music is certainly a business, and nobody goes into the recording studio hoping to go broke.

7. The band was reduced to being Peter Cetera’s backup band; when he left, they should’ve quit.

After leaving Chicago, Peter Cetera charted five singles (six if you count his contribution to Az Yet’s remake of “Hard To Say I’m Sorry”). After Cetera left, Chicago charted seven singles. Cetera sold more albums, to be sure, but it’s not like Chicago dried up and withered in his absence.

8. OK, well, I just really don’t like Peter Cetera’s music.

Neither do I, but I think we have to accept that there’s a whole bunch of people who feel otherwise. And the guy’s a pretty good bass player.

9. But you have to admit, their stuff hasn’t aged well.

What stuff are you talking about? “Old Days” and “Feeling Stronger Every Day” (for example) sound highly dated to me now, but even after 35 years, “Beginnings” is exquisite. “Questions 67 and 68″ has the stink of the late 60s about it both lyrically and musically, but it’s a good performance. And, even though I think “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is” sounds a lot like the Spiral Starecase’s “More Today Than Yesterday,” the two songs were written at roughly the same time, so it’s doubtful that either influenced the other.

Now, let’s consider some of the musical sins Chicago hasn’t committed:

• They never made a disco album.
• They did make a Christmas album, but at first it was only available through their fan club.
• After Cetera left, they still performed his music, not letting any bitterness affect their desire to please the audience–even though this meant they still had to pay the guy royalties.
• They have never recorded any new versions of Chuck Berry songs, always a sign of desperation.
• They didn’t ditch the horns even though I’m sure they got that particular piece of advice about a bazillion times throughout their career.

I feel like a lone voice crying out in the wilderness. It’s probably a lost cause trying to get the musical cognoscenti to reconsider the case of Chicago, even in a summer where there’s nothing more interesting musically than the 90s necrophilia of Velvet Revolver. But it’s worth noting that there are a few of us wannabe hipsters who find lots to appreciate in this unjustly maligned band. For 35 years, Chicago has been distinctive and single-minded in their pursuit of a musical vision. They are guilty of no crimes that haven’t been committed more flagrantly by others. And they have left behind a body of work that any musician could and should be proud of. It is time for them to have their day in the sun. Listen to a Chicago record once in a while, people.