We've reached the Top 20 of the 1975 Hideaway 100. Thanks to our loyal viewers for making the previous eight posts among our most viewed posts this year. Here are the bottom ten songs of the top 20.
Another great sing-a-long track I first heard on the Cow Talk jukebox late in the Summer of 1975. This was one of the first 45s I bought after returning home from a summer spent in Texas. Another memory associated with this song and that 45 in particular: it was the first time Dad asked me if he could borrow one of my records. 
All the points "Hurricane" has racked up were scored in the past decade. Can't say I've ever heard the song on the radio, and certainly never an abbreviated version but I've played the full version a lot since my father passed in 2015. Not that the song has any connection to Dad's passing and he was never a fan of Dylan's music. I made a conscious and concentrated effort to expand the scope of music I listened to after Dad left us and "Hurricane" popped up on shuffle and was added to my personal soundtrack.
I remember hearing "SOS" all the time on WLS during the fall of 1975. Still have never tired of it. Don't know what it's about but I sing along like the trained monkey I am, loving every minute of it. Our favorite parts of the song today are those opening piano chords and that whirling keyboard riff at :40 and again at 1:40.
By definition, I was a young American in 1975, spending the first four months of the year as an eight-year-old before turning nine. However, I was not one of the young Americans Bowie was alluding to in "Young Americans". As an Englishman, Bowie was a curious observer of American society, his lyrics informed by the music, movies, news headlines, and popular culture emanating from the States. My folks were (still) young Americans in 1975 and in hindsight, I see my own origin in Bowie's first verse. Despite the emotional detachment and melancholy of the lyrics, we've always enjoyed the song's musical backing in particular, with David Sanborn's sax lines riding over a funky rhythmic groove.
Through an unknown miracle of science, I was born with a natural affection for the music of the Spinners. The sweet sounds of their vocals and Thom Bell's masterful arrangement and production have never disappointed me. Bass voice Pervis Jackson even gets his own lines in a split verse of this song. If you're like me, you try to sing all the parts of "They Just Can't Stop It (Games People Play)" in all the voices and fail miserably with a big smile.
Discovering different edits or versions of songs is always fun, especially when it comes to single edits versus album versions. When I first heard the original 1973 version of the Bay City Rollers "Saturday Night" with Nobby Clark on vocals, I was shocked. And grateful that the decision was made to re-cut it with Les McKeown singing. We are huge Rollers fans and really enjoy their stuff from the hit version of "Saturday Night". The power of the song was evident the other Saturday when I was driving home with my wife, niece, and sister in the backseat, and "Saturday Night" came on and my wife and sister started shouting along. I looked in the rearview and saw my blind niece turn and tilt her head, which she does when she hears something unfamiliar. After the song was over she said it was the best song she had heard all year.
The lyrics are gobbledygook but the song's punchy rhythm helps convey a feisty attitude that I've always enjoyed. Traded away my copy of the 45 for a copy of "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" and a sweet kiss back in '76.
While I had heard "Love Is The Drug" because I have it on two K-Tel albums it wasn't until the early Eighties that the song connected with me. If I had to pick three words to describe "Love Is The Drug", I'd pick sophisticated, slinky, and cool.
The high lonesome sound of the apparently out-of-tune steel guitar that opens and then plays throughout "Fire On The Mountain" is beautiful. The steady, galloping rhythm further sets the stage for singer Doug Gray's tale of the California gold rush.
During the months of preparation before launching The Drive, I spent a few nights on Broadway, prepping equipment and software with the station engineer and uploading our massive music database. The station's address was 64 East Broadway in a building known as The Scott so we adopted "Nights On Broadway" as a theme song of sorts, adding it to the station's playlist, as we readied the station. I was called out at least three times in the middle of the night when the station went off the air and could not be brought back up from my house. One of those times when I got the station back on the air, the first song played was "Nights On Broadway" and that is the memory movie that plays in my head when I hear the song these days.
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