 C.W. McCall If you've never heard a name to go with the song, C.W. McCall (alter ego of advertising executive William Fries) is the … er … genius that gave the world "Convoy." This song was almost totally responsible for instigating one of the most baffling fads to ever consume white America: the 18-wheeler/CB-radio craze of the 1970s. C.W. has a pretty likable voice, a deep baritone not too far removed from Johnny Cash, though not quite as deep. His best delivery is a half-sung, half-spoken style … when he tries to outright croon, it doesn't work. His contributions stopped at the singing and writing, though. Some of the songs were actually produced by Chip Davis (not to be confused with my high school chum, Chipp Davis) of Mannheim Steamroller (not to be confused with my high school band, Manheim Steamroller) fame, and at times the music backing the often-goofy lyrics is kinda stunning. The visceral appeal of this disc shouldn't be underestimated. The cover of the CD features C.W. (who looks like John Denver after a two-week bender) lying in the grass, propped up on one elbow, sniffing a small yellow wildflower. That's some kind of perfect. "Convoy" was a number one hit in 1975, and was the sole reason my family had the album Black Bear Road. There were a couple other good songs on that album, both of which appear on this CD, so that was enough reason for me to get it. Yeah, it's a horribly, horribly dated song, but, like masturbation, I still enjoy it immensely. The female back-up singers, who crop up on damn near every other track on the disc, are delightful and well, who could not love the immortal Rubber Duck? The other two songs off Black Bear Road, incidentally, are "Silverton," a story about the supposedly legendary Silverton train which runs up a narrow mountain pass in Colorado, and "Black Bear Road," a two-minute breathless staccato number detailing a family outing gone wrong. Both bring me back to my early youth, lending perhaps more enjoyment than the typical listener might derive. The undiscovered gem of this disc would be "Four Wheel Drive," which details C.W.'s efforts to elude police in his Jeep CJ5. This song also contains a surprisingly blatant reference to marijuana, or as he pronounces it, mara-joo-wana. It's not exactly a good choice for a high-speed chase, but who am I, O.J.? To pick other likable tracks, I'd have to go with "Classified" and "Crispy Critters," but neither is particularly strong. "Roses For Mama" is a real snoozer, definite skip. The rest are pretty innocuous and unmemorable country songs of the late 70s, albeit with a bit more of a sense of humor. I bought this disc during a phase wherein I sought out the stuff that comprised music experiences. As with ABBA Gold, which I got to rekindle memories of my much-abused ABBA Greatest Hits 8-track, the C.W. McCall Greatest Hits is a proxy for Black Bear Road. As part of this phase, I also visited, several times, a prostitute in a town two counties over who looks uncannily like my mom circa 1978. How sweet is that?!
Review by Mario Speedwagon |