The Doobie Brothers
Minute by Minute

This time I'm dealing with an album that, while not bad at all, I find quite annoying because, along with three other albums, it marks the soft and seasoned phase of this band that I had adored for all the previous gritty and volcanic releases. The period of their career that I disliked spans from 1976 to 1980 and includes four studio works (this being the third, as well as their eighth in the discography, year 1978). The cause is the arrival and establishment within the band of blue-eyed soul singer and pianist Michael McDonald.

With him, and with a drastic change of the main guitarist due to health reasons, the Doobies shifted from their driving funky rock blues soul country gospel (!) crossover, carried on since the beginning, to a jazzy, soulful pop with a much more laid-back and much less spirited rhythm, with the instruments being nibbled at with the tip of a fork, never taking a proper bite: a diversion towards Steely Dan, one might say in another way.

In yet other words, from a lively rock and roll groove perfect for motorbikers, they moved to a classy but sly soul pop, perfect for the unsatisfied housewives of the era for whom 'this McDonald became a source of languid impure thoughts. To achieve this, from guitars as guiding instruments the command was passed to piano and keyboards, always courtesy of McDonald. Therefore, the Doobies became almost his backing group, happily placing themselves in his hands because they considered him an unbeatable ace for them in terms of creating hit singles.

Among the singles contained in this album, there's one of great success; it's titled "What A Fool Believes" and contains a killer hook, a deadly catch in the refrain, when the shaggy and bearded singer launches into a completely captivating falsetto phrasing, absolutely memorable.

Of course, but I was upset at the time. I missed the stormy rhythm, both acoustic and electric, of Tom Johnston, his cheerful and clear, slightly nasal voice, and then a suitable dose of Pat Simmons' skillful acoustic arpeggios, his contaminated and virtuosic country. And again, the two lead guitars together, harmonizing or exchanging the spotlight, creating a ruckus. In conclusion, I missed the very Californian soul rock of the original Doobies, round but bubbly, replaced by this cold jazz soul for adults.

Fortunately, McDonald left to pursue a career under his own name, the band went on a reflective pause until Johnston returned fully healed from his ulcer, getting back to being the voice, guitar, and main composer, pushing them to put together another decent string of punchy and exhilarating songs in the nineties and two thousands.

Their first five "motorcycle" albums I keep as a relic in my record collection, I don't even need to listen to them again because I've internalized them and they resonate in my head on command, note by note. Unfortunately, for most people, the musical image of the Doobies that revolves in their head is that of this period, not knowing the delicacies cooked before and even after, which go far beyond the mere "Long Train Running" and "China Groove".