Original Release Date:

1979

Reviewed by
Woody Wilkins


It was a summer day in 1979, in that small cradle between high school graduation and Navy boot camp. What was that sound I heard? A steel drum? On mainstream radio, no less. This, in a year when the top 100 songs included such fare as “My Sharona,” The Knack (1); “Y.M.C.A.,” Village People (8); “Makin’ It,” David Naughton (14).

David Naughton?

Only two instrumental pieces made the list: Herb Alpert’s “Rise” (80) and “Music Box Dancer” by Frank Mills (49). Of course, in those days, a good number of vocal songs had some pretty impressive instrumental breaks – a guitar solo here, a bass or sax solo there, and stations weren’t afraid to play the full-length versions. Among those to hit the airwaves in 1979 were “Good Times” by Chic (20), “Sultans of Swing” by Dire Straits (61) and “Time Passages” by Al Stewart. The latter of those featured guitarist Peter White, who went on to become a mainstay in smooth jazz. Interestingly, those three songs are as dear to me now as they were 30 years ago – especially “Time Passages.”

Yet, while the top 100 is loaded with forgettable acts if not forgettable music, this one song isn’t on it. Fascinating, considering the group that created it is my favorite non-vocal musical act of all time.

The song: “Morning Dance.” The band: Spyro Gyra.

To be fair, instrumental music was part of the rotation on many of the same stations that played Cheap Trick, Randy Vanwarmer, Parliament, Van Halen and The Jacksons. In the two years preceding the release of “Morning Dance,” several brassy sounds cracked into the pop music rotation: Chuck Mangione’s “Feels So Good,” and several movie or television theme song covers by another favorite, Maynard Ferguson.

But something about this tropics-flavored song made it special. The steel drums, of course, were very different from anything I’d heard on radio. Jay Beckenstein’s rich saxophone melody is so firmly ingrained, that even people who don’t like instrumental music find themselves humming along whenever I play it. Dave Samuels’ marimba solo is a thing of beauty. And although fans of the group love it for its versatility and sense of moving forward, any concert without “Morning Dance” is almost sacrilegious.
But it’s not just the song. The entire album is fabulous.

“Jubilee” is a high-energy jam that cuts across genres. There are elements of rock, funk and even a hint of New Orleans. The ballad “Rasul” is one of Beckenstein’s most beautiful compositions ever, especially the way his middle solo builds, underscored softly by piano and cymbals, with the bass, guitar and horn section coming in. It’s a stunning, romantic soprano sax piece done seven years before Kenny G’s “Songbird” would come to define, for many, what smooth jazz is.

For years, “Song for Lorraine” was the one song more than any other from this album that got repeat play. I love the way it shifts from its carnival atmosphere in the main melody and the keyboard solo, to an almost straight-ahead jazz format when the piano takes over, and then shifts back. “Starburst” gets everybody into the act – background strings, horns, percussion and, of course, the core group. “Heliopolis” is more of a hard-edge piece. It was my first experience with Beckenstein’s high-low, rumbling wail on the alto sax – a signature that I would later hear on songs like “Café Amore,” “Cashaca” and “Amber Dream.”

“It Doesn’t Matter” features guitarist Chet Catallo. An easygoing piece that’s part ballad, part Sunday drive. The Latin-flavored “Little Linda” again features Samuels, this time on vibes. The album ends with guest guitarist Rick Strauss’ “End of Romanticism,” a complicated song that fuses elements of hard rock and classical music.

After 30 years, Morning Dance still thrills. Each song holds up well on its own, making this one album where to repeat play one favorite means sacrificing another. And the title song is the epitome of what “timeless” music is about. I never tire of hearing it. And, unlike some of those top 100 songs of 1979, “Morning Dance” isn’t filled with audible clichés that make me think more of the year it was released than of the song itself. And that is why it remains a favorite.