In the early 1970s a band lived and died by radio, and Chicago ruled the ’waves with a brass fist, creating a vast catalog of distinctive andwholly original songs that helped the medium make a smooth transition from America’s hit-happy Top 40 to the more sophisticated and expansive "free-form" FM format. They were the first rock group to feature a horn section as an integrated lead instrument.
In an interesting twist, this same pioneering outfit would mature by mid-decade into one of rock ’n’ roll’s most dependable singles bands. Along the way, 15 of their albums would go platinum, selling one million or more copies apiece.
The Chicago story began, appropriately enough, in the Windy City, where saxophonist and aspiring orchestra man Walt Parazaider assembled a band in 1967 with fellow DePaul University students Lee Loughnane (trumpet) and James Pankow (trombone). The idea, Parazaider later explained, was to pick up a little pocket change playing rock ’n’ roll in clubs around DePaul and the South Side. Parazaider himself was angling for a "real" gig with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. The budding group shortly came to include guitarist Terry Kath and pianist Robert Lamm, both adept singers, and drummer Danny Seraphine.
They called themselves the Big Thing, and it was evident right out of the box that they were different. While Kath was an innovative and exciting guitarist (Jimi Hendrix later became one of his biggest fans), the band’s focal point was its mighty horn section. They played The Beatles’ "Got To Get You Into My Life" and "Magical Mystery Tour," songs more conventional outfits couldn’t touch, and blew the doors off many a South Side bar. This blend would soon be augmented by bassist Peter Cetera, who joined up that first year, and his high tenor voice proved the perfect harmonic mix. A sound was born.
James William Guercio, an old pal from DePaul who’d had some success producing The Buckinghams for Columbia Records, became The Big Thing’s manager. Predicting Big Things for them, he moved the band to Los Angeles, California, in order to be closer to the music business.
It took Columbia a year to make up its mind about Guercio’s new discovery. Luckily, that year found the producer guiding Blood, Sweat & Tears’ self-titled sophomore album. Its runaway success convinced the label that a blend of rock and horns could actually make money, and Guercio began production on the debut from his band of buddies, now renamed Chicago Transit Authority, in the early weeks of 1969.
Released that spring, Chicago Transit Authority was an ambitious two-record set of 12 selections, seven of which lasted more than six minutes each. It married hard rock, R&B, jazz, and furious improvisation from each of the band’s seven members. The debut was an instant smash on the then-more-experimental FM stations, but a hit single failed to materialize.
But that status would change soon enough—with only a small sacrifice—in January of 1970, with the release of another self-titled double-LP set, Chicago (also known as Chicago II), under a somewhat abridged name. Guercio had shortened it for logistical as well as practical reasons: The real Chicago Transit Authority, back home in Mayor Richard J. Daley’s Windy City, had threatened legal action.
This minor loss would be rendered insignificant by the album’s commercial performance, led by the breakthrough "Make Me Smile" (paired here with "Now More Than Ever"), written by Pankow and sung by Kath, as well as Lamm’s "25 Or 6 To 4," with lead vocals by Cetera. "Smile"_was excised from trombonist Pankow’s suite "Ballet For A Girl In Buchannon," which took up almost all of Side Two. As a single it was so full of energy that it literally exploded from car speakers. With racy horns punctuating Kath’s gritty R&B vocals, "Make Me Smile" was unlike anything else at the time. The delicate "Colour My World," also from "Buchannon," would become the new decade’s quintessential prom song, foreshadowing Chicago’s not-too-distant future as a "big ballad" band.
Although FM loved it, Chicago’s tendency to fuse segments and improvisations together in "suites" and "movements" made life difficult for the CBS brass, who were determined to keep the early momentum going. Chicago III_was released in January 1971, and Chicago Transit Authority went under the editing-room blade, an act that yielded three huge yet belated hits, all from the pen of Robert Lamm: "Questions 67 And 68," "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is" and "Beginnings." By the end of that year, Chicago had put eight songs—old and new—in the American Top 40, most of them chiseled from longer and more ambitious works.
The band’s albums would always sell well, sometimes extremely well, but their destiny as a singles act was foretold—this despite Guercio’s somewhat pretentious insistence in the Chicago liner notes that "this endeavor should be experienced sequentially." Chicago was among the few ’70s acts to rack up hit after hit with multiple lead singers, each with his own vastly different, distinctive voice. So strong, so unified, and so recognizable was the band watermark that Lamm, Kath, and Cetera all had lead vocals on huge singles. Success gave them enough confidence to avoid repeating themselves. Once the juggernaut began, Chicago continued unchallenged as the most consistently successful American group of the time. Regardless of the tenor, the tempo, or the lead singer, every one of their singles charted, most magnificently so.
It’s a sound that’s at once evocative of its era and universal. "Feelin’ Stronger Every Day," from 1973’s Chicago VI, still exemplifies all that was great about early Chicago. Its clearheaded enthusiasm is contagious from Cetera’s first "oh, yeah," and it builds continuously, to a breathtaking finale punctuated by brilliant, joyful horns. Likewise, "Saturday In The Park" is deceptively simple—like most great pop singles, the listener can’t hear the arrangement’s complexity until he actually makes a point to listen for it. It just sounds good.
Radio embraced the band’s every release, from the buoyant ("Just You ’N’ Me") to the nostalgic ("Old Days"). The Chicago train rolled along for a few years without any major upsets (why tinker with success?), although its conductors, thanks to the rigors of constant touring, were compelled to abandon the double-album concept pretty quickly. They also moved from their L.A. base to Guercio’s newly-built Caribou Ranch studios in the Rocky Mountains. But the West Coast wasn’t left behind entirely; for "Wishing You Were Here," from 1974’s Chicago VII, Guercio recruited Beach Boys Carl Wilson, Dennis Wilson, and Al Jardine for a dreamlike California harmony.
Chicago’s close-knit brotherhood began to buckle in 1977, when Guercio was dismissed for business and creative reasons. The musicians had long resented their mentor’s insistence on album titles with Roman numerals (such a thing had become passé by the mid-’70s, and Chicago was already up to XI by then), and his album covers, which inevitably featured a variation on the familiar band logo but not the band members themselves.
So Chicago was treading new ground in 1978, when they released their first numberless title, Hot Streets, whose cover included the famous logo, but only as a minor element within a full-color group shot. Hot Streets was also their first record without Kath, who’d died earlier that year after accidentally shooting himself. The sudden and horrific loss of their longtime soul mate devastated Chicago, but in time they realized that Kath’s death and Guercio’s dismissal were signs that the band’s second phase was beginning.
A label change to Full Moon/Warner Bros., along with the addition of producer David Foster, hugely popular single, Cetera and Foster’s "Hard To Say I’m Sorry," from Chicago 16, in 1982. Its smooth, middle-of-the-road balladry did not sit well with some band members, but no one could argue that a second wind had blown Chicago’s way. Their 16 and 17 albums would both be certified platinum, virtually unheard of for an act of such longevity.
Singer, guitarist, and keyboardist Bill Champlin, who had joined the roster for 16, resparked the band’s trend of high-charting multiple-vocalist singles, sent Chicago 17’s "Hard Habit To Break" up the charts in 1984. His gritty, soulful delivery gave the group the shot in the arm it needed, and Chicago seemed poised to own the ’80s. "Only You" became an international hit. However, after one more big ballad hit, "You’re The Inspiration," Cetera left to concentrate on a solo career.
Not missing a beat, the remaining members brought in bassist Jason Scheff to handle the high vocals on their subsequent releases. It was a perfect match. "Will You Still Love Me?," from Chicago 18, and Chicago 19’s "I Don’t Wanna Live Without Your Love" were enormous successes. The latter album was certified platinum following the success of "Look Away," a Champlin-sung power ballad from the pen of ’80s hit machine Diane Warren, with Albert Hammond. The single went gold in America, and became one of Chicago’s all-time biggest sellers.
Chicago’s "Street Player," a track from the 13 album, was sampled by Brooklyn producer and DJ Kenny "Dope" Gonzalez in 1995, under his nom de studio The Bucketheads, for a huge U.S. and U.K. dance hit "The Bomb! (These Sounds Fall Into My Mind)."
Although the hit era effectively ended with 1991’s "Chasin’ The Wind" and "You Come to My Senses," both from Twenty 1, Chicago continues to make bold creative statements—check out their stunning take on Louis Prima’s "Sing, Sing, Sing" (aided by The Gipsy Kings), from 1995’s Night & Day: Big Band. Even if they never played another note, the world is a richer place for the brilliant and timeless music contained in this collection.