Almost six years have passed since the excellent Dan left this world, defeated by a terrible illness that he sadly realized only when it had progressed to an incurable stage. He began in 1972, with this album that, in the manner of Joni Mitchell (one of his reference points), also sees him as a self-portraitist, in a melancholic expression that will characterize, and perhaps make a tad cloying, a significant part of his music.
Fogelberg, born in Illinois, was fortunate to have as his university mate in Urbana-Champaign a certain Irving Azoff, still today one of the most successful American music managers (Eagles, Van Halen, Alter Bridge...), who in one of his early career initiatives sent him to Nashville, putting him in the hands of the up-and-coming and still affordable producer Norbert Putnam (a former bassist for Elvis Presley), financing this debut record.
Son of a pianist and a band leader, Daniel from a young age handled guitars, keyboards, and singing with equal skill. And it shows... it doesn't seem at all that a twenty-one-year-old is making his debut: a mature and well-controlled voice, a velvety touch on the acoustic guitars and piano. Putnam sets up the arrangements, oscillating them between country rock and singer-songwriter pop, delivering both styles with the highest technical standard of the Nashville studios, probably still the best in the world today.
The grand orchestra is involved in three of the eleven tracks, adding a touch of magnificence to the more romantic compositions, the most successful of which opens the album and is titled "To The Morning" and has an unusual and reprehensible connection to our bumbling country: the exquisite melody and delicate piano of this song favorably impressed a certain Nicoletta Strambelli, who fancied herself as Patty Pravo (or perhaps her producer at the time, a certain Gianni Nocenzi an eminent pianist of Banco del Mutuo Soccorso? Oh, to know...).
An Italian lyric was commissioned to songwriter Franca Evangelisti, and with nonchalance attributing the music of "Pigramente Signora", the diva plagiarized the song in front of the vast audience of the Sanremo Festival 1987. Like a good arrogant, assuming her ignorance was widespread across the country, she had calculated she could get away with it... instead, someone who knew the song was outraged. And denounced: Patty was warned, accused, and discredited, had to pay damages to Fogelberg, and was shown the door by her record label.
Speaking of the opening song, other notable numbers are the arpeggiated "Stars", the lush "Hickory Grove", the romantic "Looking For A Lady". There is very little rock attitude in this debut work, just the concluding "The River", otherwise too protracted beyond seven minutes. The change of producer, from Putnam to Joe Walsh for the second album "Souvenirs", will introduce a bit of beneficial electric fire into part of his compositions. Fogelberg will know how to wisely range in the continuation of his long career, eventually recording works completely dedicated to country ("High Country Snows", 1985), decidedly pop ("River of Souls", 1993), even instrumental ("Twin Sons Of Different Mothers", 1978).
The record in question, of tepid success at the time of its release, over the years has benefited from the momentum generated by the more fortunate subsequent works, eventually selling over a million copies. In Italy, it is known by very few... perhaps they become eight after this review.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 To the Morning (06:11)
Watching the sun
Watching it come
Watching it come up over the rooftops.
Cloudy and warm
Maybe a storm
You can never quite tell
From the morning.
Chorus
And it's going to be a day
There is really no way to say no
To the morning.
Yes it's going to be a day
There is really nothing left to
Say but
Come on morning.
Waiting for mail
Maybe a tail
From an old friend
Or even a lover.
Sometimes there's none
But we have fun
Thinking of all who might
Have written.
And maybe there are seasons
And maybe they change
And maybe to love is not so strange.
The sounds of the day
They hurry away
Now they are gone until tomorrow.
When day will break
And you will wake
And you will rake your hands
Across your eyes
And realize
That it's going to be a day
There is really no way to say no
To the morning.
Yes it's going to be a day
There is really nothing left to say but
Come on morning
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