YACHT ROCK: A DOCKUMENTARY (A-minus) - You don't have to love the melodic guy-pop of the '70s and '80s to appreciate this documentary about the retro-fitted genre of yacht rock -- though there is bound to be at least one earworm that you didn't realize was still gnawing at a remote region of your brain.
Garret Price, a veteran editor, curates a loving, insightful, and funny tribute to the sophisticated pop epitomized by Steely Dan, Michael McDonald (of the Doobie Brothers, above left) and Kenny Loggins. They were soulful dudes who borrowed from jazz and R&B to meticulously craft smooth songs that punks back then loved to hate. The era probably peaked with Christopher Cross (above right) and "Sailing" in 1979 and faded about as quickly as Cross' career (with his second-album flop in 1983).
There was a lot of overlap between artists back in the day -- McDonald sang backup on Steely Dan songs like "Black Friday" and "Peg," and in 1978 he wrote "What a Fool Believes" (the yacht rock anthem) with Loggins. And there is the famous collaboration between McDonald and Cross, "Ride Like the Wind."
But the true connective tissue comes from the session musicians who formed Toto. They were the yacht rock Zeligs, whose gigs spanned genres from Steely Dan albums to Michael Jackson's "Thriller." (It's a good thing that the members of Toto seized the opportunity to play on such memorable tracks, because their own songs were pretty bad. I'll give them "Rosanna"; won't forgive them for "Africa.")
The members of Toto make for great talking heads -- Steve Lukather laments playfully, "Where's my yacht? I played on all those records!" -- as does the soft-spoken McDonald. Price recruits the rascals behind the mid-Aughts comedy web series that coined the term "yacht rock" and which spoofed the songs and personalities of the era. He grabs insightful music critics Amanda Petrusich and Steven Hyden. And there is a gaggle of superfans, including contemporary artists Questlove and Thundercat (and the ever-reliable Fred Armisen). The only obvious exclusion here is Donald Fagen, the surviving member of Steely Dan -- and just wait for the perfect punch line at the end of the move which explains it.
It's easy to look back and mock that SoCal light rock of yesteryear. Apparently the magazine Jacobin described yacht rock as "endlessly banal, melodic and inoffensive, fit to be piped into Macy's changing rooms." But some day you'll have to pry my Steely Dan box set from my cold dead hands. I still remember where I was when I experienced the band's masterpiece "Aja" -- in my best friend's basement on his quality stereo system. I had no idea a recording could sound so sophisticated and three-dimensional. We flipped it to side B and savored the entire album.
This documentary appreciates the double-edged sword at play here. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. Price gets the details right. He notes that "Aja" helped electronics retailers sell a lot of stereo speakers in the late '70s. (When I made my first major speaker purchase, it was Fagan's pristine solo album "The Nightfly" that pried the credit card out of my wallet.) He is smart enough to bring Cross back and let him tell his backstory. (Did you know the baby face of adult contemporary used to be a drug dealer?) Cross still has that somewhat stunned look on his face, as if he is still processing the news from his agent that his sophomore album tanked.
This is smart, joyous filmmaking that artfully jumps back in time and savors the scene for an hour and a half. It's fun and educational. It dives in, hits the highlights, and then fades out. It drinks its big black cow and gets outta here.
BONUS TRACKS
Another emblematic tune is Michael McDonald's soul classic "I Keep Forgetting":
Here is the needle drop on the "Aja" album, track one, "Black Cow":
And our title track, deconstructed by the Offspring:
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