This song is so steeped in memories for me.  My parents had this album and it was in heavy rotation at our house.  I hear this song and I can picture my dad, with his long sideburns and cut-off jeans, playing frisbee in the front yard with my Uncle Keith, while my sister and I caught grasshoppers and hung out in the plastic swimming pool and ate popsicles.  Or playing hotwheels in the living room on a Saturday afternoon in the winter, taking breaks when we heard the furnace click on to sit in front of the register vent with a blanket stretched across our laps and tucked under our legs, ballooning up as the air came out of the vent, then running back out (now with warm feet) to keep playing when it shut back off.  The records were stacked on the turntable right after breakfast and would play through until lunch, as my dad went about the business of being a dad on a Saturday morning.  The click of the changer, the whoosh of one vinyl album coming to rest upon the one spinning below it, then the crackle as the needle seated itself in the groove just before the music began to play.  For some reason, there was always the background scent of wet wallpaper — my parents were always either stripping wallpaper off or putting new wallpaper back on. 

All that, just from hearing this song.

Interesting history of BS&T on AMG. It's worth a read to see how they disenfranchised themselves from their fan base by alignining themselves with the "establishment".

William, Where is the long version?

This song is so steeped in memories for me.  My parents had this album and it was in heavy rotation at our house.  I hear this song and I can picture my dad, with his long sideburns and cut-off jeans, playing frisbee in the front yard with my Uncle Keith, while my sister and I caught grasshoppers and hung out in the plastic swimming pool and ate popsicles.  Or playing hotwheels in the living room on a Saturday afternoon in the winter, taking breaks when we heard the furnace click on to sit in front of the register vent with a blanket stretched across our laps and tucked under our legs, ballooning up as the air came out of the vent, then running back out (now with warm feet) to keep playing when it shut back off.  The records were stacked on the turntable right after breakfast and would play through until lunch, as my dad went about the business of being a dad on a Saturday morning.  The click of the changer, the whoosh of one vinyl album coming to rest upon the one spinning below it, then the crackle as the needle seated itself in the groove just before the music began to play.  For some reason, there was always the background scent of wet wallpaper — my parents were always either stripping wallpaper off or putting new wallpaper back on. 

All that, just from hearing this song.

This song is a mess.

This song is a mess.

Grammarcop wrote:
I have always hated loving this song.

I have always hated this song.

more of BS&T is always welcome!

I have always hated this song.

This song is so steeped in memories for me.  My parents had this album and it was in heavy rotation at our house.  I hear this song and I can picture my dad, with his long sideburns and cut-off jeans, playing frisbee in the front yard with my Uncle Keith, while my sister and I caught grasshoppers and hung out in the plastic swimming pool and ate popsicles.  Or playing hotwheels in the living room on a Saturday afternoon in the winter, taking breaks when we heard the furnace click on to sit in front of the register vent with a blanket stretched across our laps and tucked under our legs, ballooning up as the air came out of the vent, then running back out (now with warm feet) to keep playing when it shut back off.  The records were stacked on the turntable right after breakfast and would play through until lunch, as my dad went about the business of being a dad on a Saturday morning.  The click of the changer, the whoosh of one vinyl album coming to rest upon the one spinning below it, then the crackle as the needle seated itself in the groove just before the music began to play.  For some reason, there was always the background scent of wet wallpaper — my parents were always either stripping wallpaper off or putting new wallpaper back on. 

All that, just from hearing this song.

This song is so steeped in memories for me.  My parents had this album and it was in heavy rotation at our house.  I hear this song and I can picture my dad, with his long sideburns and cut-off jeans, playing frisbee in the front yard with my Uncle Keith, while my sister and I caught grasshoppers and hung out in the plastic swimming pool and ate popsicles.  Or playing hotwheels in the living room on a Saturday afternoon in the winter, taking breaks when we heard the furnace click on to sit in front of the register vent with a blanket stretched across our laps and tucked under our legs, ballooning up as the air came out of the vent, then running back out (now with warm feet) to keep playing when it shut back off.  The records were stacked on the turntable right after breakfast and would play through until lunch, as my dad went about the business of being a dad on a Saturday morning.  The click of the changer, the whoosh of one vinyl album coming to rest upon the one spinning below it, then the crackle as the needle seated itself in the groove just before the music began to play.  For some reason, there was always the background scent of wet wallpaper — my parents were always either stripping wallpaper off or putting new wallpaper back on. 

All that, just from hearing this song.

Blue and Country and Polka and Funk and weird time changes and a dead drumset. Oh please die already. And the harmonies just before the end polka bit are from Phantom of the Opera.

BS&Ts version is good — but Laura Nero's (the writer) rendition is the definitive one. Whew, I just may upload some fabulous Laura Nero songs — this is one of her best.
—Shari

the sentiment ain't bad, but the delivery is a bit on the schmaltzy side.

even for david clayton-thomas.

there's a laura nyro version?

let's hear it!

Sorry... I just really hate this.

I know this dates me, but this might be the 2nd or 3rd lp I bought, way back when in 1968? Thanks for the flashback! Perhaps we could here something else from this disc <-o<

I know this dates me, but this might be the 2nd or 3rd lp I bought, way back when in 1968? Thanks for the flashback! Perhaps we could here something else from this disc <-o<

Wow, I guess I am the young punk (31) belly aching now. But this song.....well....how do you say....it really sucks. It sounds like a mix between church gospel, and a parade marching band. I really think this is one of those songs for which you have to "be there" to appreciate it. But without hearing it, I would not be able to have an opinion one way or the other. So keep em comin Bill.