The year 1970 was a fascinating pivot point in music history, a time when the airwaves buzzed with a vibrant, almost chaotic, energy. It was a period of rapid stylistic evolution, where established artists grappled with the emergence of new sounds and the very definition of a "hit" seemed to be in flux. What makes this era particularly intriguing, from my perspective, is how easily the lines between original creation and inspired reinterpretation blurred, often to the point where the public might not have even realized they were humming along to someone else's melody.
The Carpenter's Unforeseen Triumph
Take, for instance, the Carpenters' iconic rendition of "(They Long To Be) Close To You." Most of us associate this smooth, yearning ballad with Karen Carpenter's inimitable voice, a sound that became synonymous with the early 70s. However, what many people don't realize is that this gem was first brought to life by Richard Chamberlain, the very actor who captivated audiences as Dr. Kildare in the 60s. His 1963 recording, while a noble effort, failed to capture the public's imagination. It's a powerful reminder that sometimes, a song simply needs the right interpreter and the right moment to truly shine. The Carpenters, with their masterful arrangement and Karen's emotionally resonant vocals, didn't just cover the song; they unearthed its soul and propelled it to the No. 1 spot, transforming it into an enduring classic. Personally, I think this illustrates how a song's destiny can be profoundly shaped by the artist who breathes new life into it.
Diana Ross: Ascending to Solo Stardom
Another track that often evokes a singular artist is Diana Ross's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." This song, a powerhouse of emotion and determination, is indelibly linked to Ross's post-Supremes career. Yet, its journey began earlier, penned by the legendary songwriting duo Nickolas Ashford and Valerie Simpson. Their vision was to place it with Motown, and indeed, Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell had already charted with a respectable Top 20 version in 1967. But when Diana Ross decided to make it one of her inaugural solo singles in 1970, she elevated it to an entirely new stratosphere. What makes her version so compelling, in my opinion, is the sheer dramatic weight she imbues it with. Her ethereal vocals glide over an arrangement that amplifies the song's inherent grandeur, ultimately securing her first solo No. 1 hit. It's a testament to her artistry that she could take a beloved song and make it unequivocally her own, a feat that often requires more than just vocal talent; it demands a unique emotional connection.
Rare Earth's Rocking Reinvention
Then there's "Get Ready," a song that has become a cornerstone of rock-infused soul. While we now often associate it with the electrifying energy of Rare Earth, it's crucial to remember its origins with Smokey Robinson and The Temptations. When The Temptations released it in 1966, it was a respectable hit, but it barely nudged into the Top 30, a somewhat modest performance by Motown's high standards. The story of Rare Earth's take is particularly fascinating because it highlights Motown's willingness to experiment. Berry Gordy Jr., seeking to broaden the label's sonic palette, signed this Detroit rock band. They had been performing an extended, live version of "Get Ready" for some time. When tasked with recording it, their initial take was an astonishing 20-minute epic. Edited down to a radio-friendly length, their powerful, rock-driven interpretation became a Top 5 smash. This transformation from a soulful pop tune to a hard-hitting rock anthem showcases the incredible adaptability of great songwriting and the power of genre-bending.
Three Dog Night and the Art of the Unsung Songwriter
Finally, we have Three Dog Night's chart-topping "Mama Told Me (Not To Come)." This band had a remarkable talent for taking songs from lesser-known writers and turning them into massive hits. In 1970, Randy Newman was still a figure largely operating in the shadows of the music industry, a brilliant songwriter whose work hadn't yet reached widespread recognition. He had actually written "Mama Told Me (Not To Come)" for Eric Burdon & The Animals, who recorded it in 1967, and even recorded a more understated version himself that same year. What Three Dog Night achieved was nothing short of alchemical. They introduced a subtle, insinuating musical hook that wasn't present in the original and tweaked the refrain's structure. But, from my perspective, the real magic lay in Cory Wells' lead vocal. He perfectly embodied the persona of a frazzled party-goer, delivering a performance that was both captivating and darkly humorous. This cover demonstrates how a band can not only interpret a song but also imbue it with a distinct personality and narrative, turning a cautionary tale into a darkly comedic hit.
Reflecting on these examples, it becomes clear that 1970 wasn't just a year of new music; it was a year where the past was constantly being re-examined and revitalized. The ability of artists to take existing material and infuse it with their own vision, their own experiences, and their own sound is what keeps music alive and evolving. It makes me wonder how many other incredible songs are out there, waiting for their perfect moment and their perfect interpreter to be discovered by a new generation. What other hidden gems from that era might be lurking just beneath the surface of our musical memory?
