Precious and Few

October 14, 1996
The Breithaupt brothers are brave. Long before the craze for '70s nostalgia reared its ugly head, these part-time musicologists were up in Canada spinning 45 after 45 at wild '70s dance parties, hoping to redeem the reputation of the era's pop music. Critics have tended to dismiss nearly everything heard on the radio between the break-up of the Beatles and the Bee Gees' Saturday Night Fever movie soundtrack. The Breithaupts aren't critics, they're fans of the music would-be taste makers love to ignore: the Osmonds, Neil Sedaka, Linda Ronstadt, the Bay City Rollers. They give equal time to such true pop genuises as Al Green and Van Morrison, but the Breithaupts are bigger fans of big hits. Their appendix chronicles Grammy nominees and winners from 1971-1975, as if those awards evaluate anything beyond the obvious. Their singles-only aesthetic probably works well when choosing music for nostalgic dance parties, but there's no ignoring the import (and popularity) of album-oriented radio in the early '70s. The era's most lasting contribution was more than a collection of hit singles.

December 1, 1996
Singer/songwriter Don and his brother Jeff try to reclaim the music of their youth. Beginning in 1971 after the breakup of the Beatles and ending in 1975 with the advent of disco, they devote 31 brief chapters to AM-radio hits of the early Seventies. The authors deal with such trends as the Philadelphia sound of Gamble and Huff, the folk-pop of James Taylor and Cat Stevens, late Motown hitmakers such as Stevie Wonder and Diana Ross, and the progressive rock of Yes and Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. They also address more obscure Canadian popsters, novelty records, and religious pop. Though paying homage to most of the rock/pop icons of the era, the brothers Breithaupt present a jumbled confusion of categories: They label such diverse artists as Elton John and the Carpenters as "self-pity pop," Harry Chapin and Tony Orlando as "story songsters," Linda Ronstadt and Helen Reddy as "feminist pop," and Herbie Hancock and Gino Vannelli as "jazz/pop." Their work quickly becomes a disorganized, seemingly endless compendium of early-Seventies hits that seldom explains the authors' obvious excitement about the music to the reader. Not recommended.--David P. Szatmary, Univ. of Washington, Seattle