In one scene, Kath is seen racing his motorcycle around the mountains. Unfortunately, Kath had acquired another dangerous hobby: guns. Naturally, Loughnane, who still plays the song most nights on tour, is reluctant to bite the hand that feeds.
Number One all over the world and it still works today. According to him, Kath brought his guns into the apartment and began cleaning a 9mm semi-automatic pistol at the kitchen table. Johnson warned him to be careful. Kath then put the clip back into the gun and began waving it around, believing the chamber was empty.
According to Johnson, the guitarist waved the revolver near his temple, with his finger on the trigger, and accidentally released the round. He died instantly. His eyes were wide open, staring off blankly into the distance. The drummer was still there when the police arrived. He refused. Rumours of suicide circulated, but everyone in the Chicago camp disputes this. The band talked about splitting up, then decided against it.
He lasted two albums. His voice trails off. There have been further line-up changes over those years. Ultimately, there are two Chicagos: the one with Terry Kath and the one without. There will always be a compromise. Not a ton of Chicago riffs that you'd be likely to mistake for Tony Iommi at any point, but the chugging of Chicago VIII deep cut "Hideaway" is vicious enough that you kinda expect it to turn it into "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath" in its early minutes -- even before you get to its blistering solo.
The band found the majority of their success using a much lighter touch, and were wise to do so, but kudos to axeman Kath for showing when necessary that the band knows how to swing it. Look away, baby, look away. Perhaps best-remembered for its action-packed music video, "Stay the Night" was also one of the most striking singles of Chicago's early '80s pop period, captivating from its opening drum hits through to its staccato verse synths and melodic left turn at the chorus.
Some of the song's more aggressive lyrics "I won't take no if that's your answer" haven't aged particularly well, but the sneering chorus cry remains such a brain-sticker that the dudes in Foreigner are probably still seething at not having thought of it first. A lovely little romantic devotional from Chicago VIII , probably held back from single status by its shape-shifting nature -- the song takes turns sounding like Supertramp and the Beach Boys -- though it never loses its quintessential Chicago heart or horns.
Also perhaps hurting its case: Framing a song on the band's eighth album about never having been in love before. Well then what exactly were all those other songs about, Peter?!??
The trill-laden horn work here is strong, and the song has aged well as a fluttering warm-weather track. It an exciting song with message that is unfortunately a little too timeless. Oh, to have witnessed the confused faces of those who spun Chicago VII and had to wade through a solid 25 minutes of instrumentals before the vocals to finally kicked in. At the peak of their soulful early days, Chicago kicked off their blockbuster second album with this sizzling piano groover, featuring the gritty vocals of Kath at his absolute Cockeriest.
The second-side closer to the jazzier first LP of Chicago's double album is an unassuming sort of sun-baked ditty, gliding by on a lightly samba-ing saunter and one of Peter Cetera's most blissed-out early vocals. Yes, Cetera can't help himself from sticking in a little "skittle-ee-bee-bop! A sublime slice of gentle acoustic melancholy from its opening ocean waves, "Wishing You Were Here" proved just how evocative mid-'70s soft rock could be in the hands of the experts. Speaking of: Yep, that's Chicago tourmates the Beach Boys joining in on backing vocals for the song's interrupting refrain, splintering each titular lament into a veritable dirty bomb of longing in five-part harmony.
The magic was real on Chicago II. Surprisingly, it's the Chicago rendition from a year later that's the much funkier version, tighter and punchier and with an absolutely killer horn hook -- one that improbably infiltrated two separate future generations of jock jams, via pop smashes from The Bucketheads and Pitbull.
One of the most buoyant breakup songs ever written, the forever open-hearted Peter Cetera co-wrote this '70s AM perennial with trombonist Pankow about "healing and moving on after the end of a relationship," which with the song's shiny horns and repeated "Oh-ohhhh yeah!
And in case you doubt that Cetera really is getting his strength back, the song goes double-time at the end, still gaining momentum right through the fade out. Good-looking fella laughs.
In other words, the listener can detect that the quietly talented Loaded cabal has kept in mind that these songs live and breathe most robustly if they kick ass in a sweaty club, if they touch people on record and then through the souvenir memory of a live show that imprints itself on the forehead of a fan converted. But we definitely have our own twist.
But sure, overall the album is darker and sicker and more twisted. Listen duff-loaded.
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