Stick to Me (1977)

It's probably going too far to say this represents a shadow of a lost album but it's still an interesting story. With some buzz at their backs from the first two albums of the year before, Graham Parker and the Rumour toured a bunch and then retreated to the studio to lay down the third album before embarking on more touring. A lot of work went into it, it sounds like—string sections, a high concept for a long psychedelic soul song, and all the usual angsty blood, sweat, and tears, which I suspect is more than most people (me included) generally know to get an album in the can. Then, all finished, something turned out to be wrong with the master tape, and suddenly it was all lost. They had literally one week before they were set to travel. They went back to the studio. Nick Lowe presided over the board and the band pounded through the set, treating it necessarily more like live performance than whatever it was they had worked out before. For me, only dimly aware of the story, it was the first Graham Parker album I heard and it just lit me up. It was easily my favorite until I checked out the first two and discovered Heat Treatment. Once I knew the Stick to Me story I could hear the rushed quality of it, from which "The Heat in Harlem," the stab at psychedelic soul, clearly suffers most. I don't know that it ever had enough in it to compete seriously with "Time Has Come Today" (long version) but I do wish I could hear the original to judge. Otherwise I think the circumstances may have actually served the session well, contributing to what makes it so good, however unpleasant it must have been for the players at the time. The music is irresistible, spry and quick to make its points, but with an impatient edge, restless, constantly prowling and moving and hitting sweet spots on practically every track. I like the way it retreats to the Muscle Shoals soul moves they have so fully absorbed. I like the way it entertains romantic American migratory history ("Soul on Ice," "The New York Shuffle," "The Heat in Harlem," "The Raid")—the fascination for some heroic American vision is so ingenuous it's adorable, and perfectly winning. And I will say this about "The Heat in Harlem"—it fails for me, as too long though not altogether wearing out its welcome, only when I start to think about it too much. Otherwise it's all of a piece from when I was first infatuated with the album. It had me at the needle drop and the roaring title song, which takes off like a jet and drags everything else behind it, supersonic style. Both sides good.