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From the Merriam-Webster Dictionary: (noun) - riff /rif/ a short repeated phrase in popular music and jazz, typically used as an introduction or refrain in a song.
Riffs, however, are not limited only to lead guitar. What about rhythm phrases, bass lines, drum and keyboard intros, or horn solos? All, in my opinion, can be considered riffs.
Beginning with letter A, here’s my compilation of essential classic rock artists and remembrances. Everyone will have their preferences, but I’ve only chosen my favorites. Also, the list is ongoing, so it may take some time to reach ZZ Top!
AC/DC - I heard AC/DC in 1977 after the band released their third album, Let There Be Rock. Lead guitarist Angus Young's stature (5’2”), schoolboy uniforms, and singer Bon Scott's raspy vocals set AC/DC apart from the competition. The title track and “Whole Lotta Rosie” received the most airplay from Chicago rock stations. I can't recall many cover bands in the area playing any AC/DC, probably because no one could sing like Bon Scott. Others complained that AC/DC's music was “too basic.” Huh? Basic is often better than overly complex rock compositions. For example, their song “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” is as powerful, IMHO, as any punk recording of the era, and Bon Scott's roar at the end of the song is classic. In July 1979, while I was in Boston studying at the Berklee College of Music, AC/DC released Highway to Hell. The title track has a brilliant opening chord progression and crunchy rhythm guitar.
After Bon Scott's death by “misadventure” in February 1980, the band hired vocalist Brian Johnson as his replacement and recorded their classic album Back in Black. The first track, “Hell's Bells,” has an introduction that lasts 1:28, a departure from the usual four-bar intro demanded by corporate record company executives and music publishers. “Hell's Bells” is a genuine heavy anthem, still heard at numerous professional sporting events around the country, and one of the best hard rock songs ever recorded. I had a chance to see them in Chicago in August 1978, with Aerosmith and Foreigner, but I couldn't get out of work. Too bad!
Aerosmith - I first heard Aerosmith’s debut album in my best friend’s basement around 1975. It featured the single “Dream On,” the only song on the album to receive airplay. Even today, in 2023, it’s the only song corporate radio will allow when, in my opinion, “Make It” and “Mama Kin” are much better. The record had a blues-rock feel, and the guitars sounded like Fender Stratocasters.
Their second album, Get Your Wings, was more polished due to the fluid lead guitar work of Joe Perry and memorable riffs on “S.O.S. (Too Bad)” and “Same Old Song and Dance.” The album also featured a cover version of “Train Kept A Rollin,” initially recorded in the 1950s by the Johnny Burnette and the Rock & Roll Trio and later by The Yardbirds. I’m not sure what instruments Perry and rhythm guitarist Brad Whitford were using, but this time around, they sounded like Gibson Les Paul’s.
Aerosmith’s following two albums, Toys in the Attic and Rocks, were bonafide masterpieces with superior production, arrangements, and heavier-sounding guitars. I wore out the grooves on both of those records. Joe Perry was a guitar god back then; his classic riff and tone on “Walk This Way” might be one of the best from the 1970s. I wanted to play like him but didn’t have the chops; I was strictly a rhythm player. Sadly, I never saw them in person, and from what my friends told me, their live shows were great.
The last Aerosmith album I purchased was Draw the Line, which came out in 1977; it was a letdown compared to Rocks. Their later work in the 1980s and beyond didn’t interest me. They seemed to have morphed into a band of balladeers courtesy of corporate radio.
Alice Cooper - I first started listening to Alice in eighth grade, around 1972. The album was School’s Out, and its cover resembled an old wooden top-opening desk, heavily scratched and marred with all the band members’ initials. Inside was a pair of paper panties. The single “School’s Out” had one of the most monumental guitar riffs ever written and a message no kid could deny. Although “School’s Out” was the only cut on the album to receive airplay, I favored two other tracks, “Luney Toon” and Alice’s tribute to West Side Story, “Gutter Cats vs. the Jets.” My friends and I would strut down the hallways of Hobart Junior High between classes, snapping our fingers and mimicking the lyrics about rival street gangs ready to rumble.
I became an instant fan of Alice’s music and purchased several more albums, including Love It to Death and Killer, both released in 1971. Although I wasn't crazy about Love It to Death, except for “Ballad of Dwight Fry,” the back cover photo showed the guitar players posing with their instruments. I thought that was so cool. Killer, however, was a different story. It featured powerful guitar-driven songs with unique arrangements, such as “You Drive Me Nervous,” “Halo of Flies,” and “Dead Babies,” about a little girl who dies after eating a jar of aspirin.
The final Cooper album in my collection, and my all-time favorite, with the original lineup of guitarists Michael Bruce, Glen Buxton, bassist Dennis Dunaway, and drummer Neil Smith, was Billion Dollar Babies, which came out in 1973. The green snakeskin-looking album package contained autographed photos, a few concert images, an oversized one billion dollar bill, and the ultimate rock stardom shot of the band dressed in white, with hair down to their waists, petting bunny rabbits and sitting on a pile of cash.
The saddest part of my Alice Cooper experience was that I never saw their incredible live show featuring snakes, guillotines, and bloody mannequins. I had a chance to watch them on a 1972 TV program called In Concert, but I fell asleep before they hit the stage.
Alice in Chains - In 1992, I lived in Astoria, Queens, and had a part-time tech job at Bandicoot College in Manhattan. Once or twice a week after work, I'd head down to the East Village to enjoy a few pints and puffs of the green stuff if I could find any. The music in most dive bars I frequented wasn't your typical corporate-approved crap but a mixture of classic, alternative, and grunge.
My stereo consisted of a small front-loading analog radio/cassette player I kept on the refrigerator. Whenever a song grabbed my attention, especially one I hadn't heard before, I'd press the record-play buttons simultaneously, and presto, a new rocker for the collection. Although a crude method of listening to music, it suited my purposes at the time. One night, as I rolled the dial toward the lower frequencies, possibly to the college station WFUV, I heard the songs “Rooster” and “Them Bones.” Man, what a sound. Great vocal harmonies and powerful guitars. Rewind play, rewind play—I was in heaven! Later, I learned that Alice in Chains was part of the Seattle grunge scene, along with Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam.
Allman Brothers Band - The first Allman Brothers song I ever heard was “Ramblin Man” on a jukebox at the Tastee-Freeze diner in my hometown of Hobart, Indiana. I was thirteen years old. In my early twenties, I held a mixed opinion of the band. While I admired the Allman's blues-based sound, which I was into then, especially their classic “Whipping Post,” one of the best blues songs ever written, I wasn't a big fan of Southern rock. It annoyed me. In 1979, I joined a short-lived cover band, unaware that the drummer and lead guitarist worshipped the “Allmonds,” as I called them, and Lynyrd Skynyrd, whose songs dominated our mediocre musical repertoire. To this day, I cringe whenever I hear “Sweet Melissa” and “Freebird.” Ahhh!
Amboy Jukes, The - The Amboy Jukes was a Chicago and, later, a Detroit-based band featuring young Ted Nugent on lead guitar. I remember four of their albums spun regularly on my friend Tom Sullivan's turntable: Journey to the Center of the Mind (with the classic psychedelic sounding title track as the albums single), Survival of the Fittest, Call of the Wild, and Tooth, Fang & Claw. The only tunes I can recall were “Journey” and “The Great White Buffalo.”
In an era where most lead guitarists played Fender, Gretsch, or Les Pauls, Ted chose a hollowbody Gibson Byrdland, a guitar most associated with jazz. He also wore the guitar high on his chest, unusual for a rocker. All his work in the Amboy's set the stage for Ted's great solo career. Sadly, the corporate rock stations still refuse to play anything by the Amboy Jukes.
Animals, The - I never bought any records by The Animals, but several of their songs were essential to me as a musician.
The first was their version of “House on the Rising Sun,” a traditional folk song about a life gone wrong in New Orleans. It begins with guitarist Hilton Valentine's arpeggiated chord progression, where he picks each note individually (using downstrokes) instead of simply strumming the chords. It's not as easy to play as it sounds, and I dare any guitarist to attempt this song at the exact tempo as Valentine for nearly three minutes. Along with Alan Price's reverberant electronic organ sound and Eric Burden's vocals, “House of the Rising Sun” is a classic that never gets old.
Beginning with Chas Chandlers' memorable bass line, the second tune is “We Gotta Get Out of This Place,” with the chorus, “If it's the last thing we ever do.” This song was important to me in my early twenties as I contemplated leaving my hometown for destinations unknown.
And finally, “Sky Pilot,” a classic seven-minute-long anti-war song released in 1968, featuring strings, horns, a bluesy fuzzed-out guitar section, bagpipes, and the sounds of military aircraft shot down from the sky. Perhaps it's just a coincidence, but after the 9-11 terrorist attacks, I never heard “Sky Pilot” again on any corporate or oldies radio stations. However, it lived on for many years inside the jukebox of my once favorite, now-defunct East Village dive bar, Grassroots.
Asia - There was a buzz around the music industry in 1981 with rumors of the possible formation of a new rock supergroup consisting of progressive heavyweights guitarist Steve Howe (Yes), bassist John Wetton (King Crimson), drummer Carl Palmer (Emerson, Lake & Palmer), and keyboardist Geoff Downes (Yes and the Buggles.)
They called themselves Asia, and their debut album, released in 1982, contained no less than three singles that received considerable FM airplay—“Heat of the Moment,” “Only Time Will Tell,” and “Sole Survivor.” Incidentally, these were the first three tracks off the album. I remember reading reviews from music critics who didn't seem overly impressed. Most expected a multi-instrumental, progressive jazz/rock fusion tour de force filled with complex arrangements and time signatures similar to groups like Weather Report and Return to Forever. Instead, Asia produced a slick commercial package of radio-friendly pop rockers and ballads. I never purchased the album and didn't know anyone who had, and none of the local cover bands included any Asia songs in their repertoires. Still, unlike most 1980s music, I have no bad memories associated with Asia. I even wrote a lyric based on the meter of “Sole Survivor.”
Although they've released thirteen albums since 1982 with different lineups, I've haven’t heard one track on the corporate rock stations. Strange.
Babe Ruth - I can't remember exactly when I heard this band since they hadn't received much airplay on Chicago FM, except for maybe WKRT. But I bought their album First Base in late 1977, maybe because of its graphic cover of spacemen playing baseball while shark surfing. Track one, “Wells Fargo,” has a heavy Led Zepplinish riff throughout and a powerful bluesy vocal performance by singer Jenny Haan, reminiscent of Robert Plant and Janice Joplin. When I heard the third track, an instrumental called “King Kong,” with guitarist Alan Shacklock and keyboardist Dave Punshon trading riffs, I could have sworn I was listening to Yes, off one of their early albums. The last cut on the album, “Joker,” is an all-out rocker with a great Steve Howe/Brian May guitar tone, which I borrowed as a band rehearsal tune in 1978. First Base is yet another classic album ignored by the corporate rock morons.
Babys, The - I first heard The Babys at my friend Tom Sullivan's house in 1978. The album's title was Broken Heart, and the only two tracks I recall were “Isn't It Time” and “A Piece of the Action.” I've never been one to sit and try to analyze or decipher song lyrics. Still, I've always equated “action” with the God-given right to have and enjoy as much heterosexual sex as possible while still young and physically able. Unfortunately, I never got my fair share back then, but that's another story.
My problem with The Babys was the album cover itself. The package and design seemed too feminine, with shell pink lettering and the title—Broken Heart. Also, and maybe it's just my imagination, all four group members appear to be wearing blush, which, along with their dainty crushed velvet outfits, gave them an annoying, pretty boy appearance. For all I know, it might have been intentional, given the name 'Babys.'
Although I read somewhere that the album sold well, I just can't picture some teenage kid at a record store in 1977 flipping through the 'B' section and choosing 'Babys' over the likes of Black Sabbath, Bad Company, or Bachman-Turner Overdrive.