Have you ever had guests in your house for a party or get-together and they just can’t take a hint when it’s time to go? Well have no fear, because I have the answer. Play this song and they’ll run screaming for the door. They’ll be jabbing pencils in their ears and have violent nightmares trying to get this awful song out of their head.
How in the hell did this song reach #3? Cashbox Magazine made it #1, saying it was more popular than Elton John’s Crocodile Rock?!?!? Now it’s the not the worst song I ever heard and in fact it could have been a very sweet nostalgic song had not the Hurricane cut a devasting swath across our eardrums.
The man recording this song had engineered all of the Beatles recordings right up to Rubber Soul as well as produced early Pink Floyd LPs. I would expect more from someone of that caliber. The guy could have booked some serious talent on this session. Instead he has some guy torture us with a sax solo that sounds like someone strangling the Aflac duck. And that’s me being kind. He should have built up countless free hours at Abbey Road studios. Then he could have taken his time to get the best takes available. Instead he comes off sounding like a cracked-out hobo. When he strain-sings “babe” on the chorus, it sounds like John Lennon just punched him in the neck. If he didn’t, then he should have.
Am I being too harsh? Take a listen and tell me…